Bob's Memoir: 4,000 Years as a Free Demon Vol. 3
Copyright© 2022 by aroslav
Chapter 65: The Exorcist
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 65: The Exorcist - "Hi! I'm Bob and I'll be your demon tonight." But Bob is not your ordinary textbook demon. He was not imbued with any traits of evil. He's just your everyday, slightly horny, happy-go-lucky (mostly lucky) demon with 4,000 years of history as his teacher. This is the way Bob remembers it happening and he was there! (Tell that to your history prof!) It's a romp through the annals of time from a unique perspective. A little bit spooky. A little bit sexy. A lot funny. Vol 3: Current Era (Mostly)
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Paranormal Demons Polygamy/Polyamory
LIZ AND PENINNAH, of course, were always with me when I was out in public talking about the show. Doug was usually nearby, but he had responsibilities that took him to other offices or studios as he got us geared up for production. We had to verify that we were using union employees and were paying union scale, or we couldn’t be broadcast. Our contacts at HCEN told us they’d had to comply with the union standards eventually, though they’d managed to fly under the radar for several years as providing educational internships.
We were usually pretty friendly with people. Police and security services made sure fans didn’t get too close to us as we went from the studio to the waiting limo.
As we made it to the limo, I became aware of a man on a step stool with an amplified megaphone preaching to the crowd about the evils of my show and the perversion of Bob. I paused to listen to him as he railed on. As loud as he was, I was sure he was breaking some kind of noise ordinance. No one moved to stop him, though.
“Women boldly go into his lair and are never seen again. He preys on the dreamy-eyed, making them victims of his perversions. I tell you, he is an emissary from hell and has possessed those women. Do not render yourselves into his devilish lair. Stand firm upon the word of God and resist this temptation.”
I was thinking about replying to him, but Peninnah grabbed my arm and pulled me into the limo with her. We headed back to our hotel and ordered dinner sent to our suite. We always did that rather than simply stepping into the infinity room and eating. Hotels became suspicious if you never ordered food or ate in their restaurants. This week it had been much easier to book a downtown hotel than to commute out to the hills to the mansion.
As soon as dinner had been delivered, I opened a gateway and half a dozen others came out of Areola with additional food to join us. Peninnah and Liz went back to the palace for the night. That, too, was typical as they did not like to spend the day in the natural world and then the night, too. They were concerned that they would start aging. I believed the room had a rejuvenating effect on them as they looked as young and fresh as the first day I met them.
We were finishing dinner when I decided to tune in on the television for the evening news to see if we were mentioned.
“At the bottom of the barrel for entertainment news tonight, Bob is causing quite a stir as he announces plans for casting the coming season of To Boldly Go,” said the news announcer, Delilah Samson. “According to an interview and press release from Bob’s Studio, the entire second season will be done candidly, with Bob in disguise and secret cameras recording every interaction as he travels the world looking for additions to his harem crew. But not all reactions have been positive. Here’s a report from our woman on the street, Lily Lalane. Lily?”
“Thank you, Delilah. It’s hard to tell if Bob’s announcements about how to behave with a new man, his threats against men who try to imitate him, or the denunciation of his entire being by Rev. Ronald Richards of Bethany Consolidated Church of the Holy Grail is at the top of the news tonight. Rev. Richards preaches regularly to crowds nearing three thousand people at his megachurch, but has taken his ministry to the streets to reach out to the people who throng after Bob.”
“I tell you, this Bob is the devil incarnate,” Richards said in the interview. “He thinks the world has sunk so low into depravity that it will sit idly by as the flower of humanity is plucked and destroyed. Oh, we can all get a little wistful about the promise of wealth, sexual gratification, abundance, and gluttony. But down that road lies the gates of hell. Bob must be stopped and the women he has captured must be freed from this cult that has risen around him.”
“So, you believe the women have not gone willingly to be on his show and compete for inclusion in his space journey?” Lily asked.
“I believe they have been bewitched, enchanted, and possessed,” Richards said. “They might think they have entered his lair of their own free will, but once there, like a fly on a spider’s web, they discover there is no return—no way out. They must have the devil within them exorcised.”
Maya grasped my arm and buried her head on my shoulder. She was shaking and sobbing.
“Don’t let him near me, Bob. He is like the Spanish priests of so long ago. They exorcised demons by burning people at the stake or cutting their heads off. Don’t let him, Bob. Please don’t let him near us.”
“I won’t, my sweet love. You were given into my care by the god Kukulkàn and the goddess Ixchel. You asked me to possess you and I entered every fiber of your being. But that is a two-way street. At that same moment, you entered every fiber of my being and we became one heart. I will protect and defend you to my last breath.”
Over the years, I’ve met various priests who practiced exorcism on people mostly possessed by the priests. Nor were they all within the so-called Christian religions. It seemed in every religion, there were those who felt anyone who disagreed with them must be possessed by an evil spirit.
I’m not saying no one ever was. I’d met people possessed by demons. I mean people other than the women I possessed. Most seemed to be living in a mutually satisfying relationship. There were some who had been possessed by demons ordered by a conjurer to torment them. I know Issa had encountered some like this. In fact, he cast Maureen out of a fellow she’d been confined to and she fled from the area as soon as she was free. She didn’t enjoy it any more than the guy who’d suffered from her.
But most of the people exorcists practice their rituals on aren’t possessed at all. They simply disagree with the exorcist’s peculiar brand of religion. During the Spanish Inquisition, when I was traveling as a priest, the majority of those burned as demon-possessed were simply Jews who refused to convert. That doesn’t mean there were never Jews who consorted with devils. The Kabala has instructions in it. Solomon was dead before I made my way to Judah and was taken to Babylon, but it is said that his wisdom included how to tame a demon.
Experience told me, though, that the loudest denouncers of evil were those who practiced it. Pick any preacher or politician who makes a stand against homosexuality, child abuse, adultery, trafficking, or any of the deadly sins or ten commandments, and you will find a practitioner or a person wishing he was and lying in wait for his opportunity.
Take Ahman, for example. I ran into him in Southeastern Africa, sometime after I finished my time working for Ninra and Namri. In general terms, I was still pretty much an innocent in the ways of the world. I knew there were good people and there were bad people, but I didn’t expect them to affect me much. Nobody would care about me.
Ahman was nobody.
I was a stranger, just wandering through the world, but Ahman saw me as an opportunity.
“Bob is a danger to our children and our women,” he whispered. “Why is Bob always alone? Where does Bob go at night? Why is Bob so secretive?”
It was a primitive area and an even more primitive time. There was always the possibility of a raid by one village or sect on another to get something the other had—food, animals, women, children. There wasn’t much commerce that used tokens, though occasionally a gem was discovered that inspired a certain amount of lust.
Anyway, when a young woman of the village disappeared, most people mourned her a little, but assumed she’d been stolen by another village in the night. Shit happens. Sometimes, they’d mount a raid of their own and steal a woman or a child to replenish their village.
But Ahman whispered just a hint.
“It might have been Bob, you know.”
Most people shrugged it off as unlikely, though some amount of interest was shown in where I went at night. I had to be especially careful where I hid the satchel and crept into it to spend time with my precious Nimia. We tried to spend a lot of time together because otherwise she was almost alone in the bag. I say almost. I recall that she’d enticed a couple of other women into the bag with her, but over the course of a century or so, some would stay and some would go. I was never sure how many she’d attracted.
When another woman went missing, Ahman whispered again.
“Why would the other village want another woman so soon? It must be Bob. He’s too secretive.”
Then a few men from a neighboring village showed up one day and demanded their women back. They accused the village of stealing too many of their women and would kill all the men in the village if they didn’t return some.
“We haven’t been on a raid. You took two of our women!” an elder declared.
“We’ve taken no one!” the elder of the other tribe protested. “Who else is there?”
“There’s Bob,” Ahman whispered. “He might be behind it.”
It didn’t take long before Ahman was no longer whispering. He was speaking out loud about the evils of abducting women and each time, he would point at me as if I was the perpetrator.
I could have just left. Then, a thousand years or three thousand years later, the story of the demon who stole women in the night would still be told and used to explain abductions and all kinds of other atrocities. I waited and watched. And then I saw Ahman creep away in the middle of the night.
He made his way to a cave. It was so difficult to find I wished I’d discovered it to hide the satchel in. Inside, Ahman had nearly a dozen women, tied with vines so they couldn’t escape and gagged so they couldn’t cry out. Of course, they couldn’t eat either, which didn’t make much difference. Ahman wasn’t feeding them. They were getting weaker by the day and one lay dead in the back of the cave. All Ahman did was use them. When they became too filthy or starved to satisfy his desires, he stole another woman from one of the villages.
I went full goat. I stormed into the cave and knocked Ahman out. I didn’t kill him. It wasn’t my injury to revenge. I untied the women and they fell upon the unconscious man, tearing and disemboweling him. He awoke only long enough to understand his predicament and scream. When they had completely butchered the man, they sat, weeping. I had Nimia and her women bring out food for them and minister to them.
When morning came, I showed the women the way to the village and they dragged the remains of Ahman and the body of the dead woman to the center of the village. There, they began to wail.
The village awakened and rushed to see what the uproar was about.
At first, they thought Ahman and the woman had died rescuing the others, and swore to hunt down Bob. But it did not take long for the women to set things straight. The village sent a runner to the next village and asked them to come and witness the return of the women. One young woman was selected to tell the story, and she was quite a story teller.