Bob's Memoir: 4,000 Years as a Free Demon Vol. 3
Copyright© 2022 by aroslav
Chapter 75: Jail Break
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 75: Jail Break - "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
IT’S A LOT EASIER to break out of jail when you are led by an FBI agent than it is if you are all on your own. I’d had that experience a few years ago. I was on the street just minding my own business when police rounded up everyone they could see and carted us off to jail. Ali was with me and when she protested physically against the treatment, I had to step in to protect her and things got a little out of hand.
Now, let me tell you that I am not a person who just naturally dislikes police. Most are good people who are out there doing a very difficult job, sometimes under less than proper orders. That goes for every level of law enforcement. But they have a very high profile, and when one abuses his position, often all of them suffer.
That’s what happened a few years ago when what should have been a routine arrest in Minneapolis turned into the murder of the suspect, protests, and nationwide riots. It was exacerbated by a quarantine during a pandemic, shortages of supplies, a constant flow of disinformation from leaders through the media, and a new epidemic of racism and fascism.
I don’t speak ill of the police in this instance because there was a riot in progress and they were doing the best they could to restore order. And I couldn’t just unleash the priestesses because there were no clear good guys and bad guys. Some of the people arrested deserved to be. I didn’t think Ali and I deserved to be. We just happened to be there.
Okay. We happened to be there on purpose. A number of years ago, I’d built a church in a community that displaced a lot of people. They were people I created low-income housing for in the neighborhood. When the people of the church realized they had not managed to completely eradicate the poor from the neighborhood, the church gradually died. I funded a local group to buy the church and it became a neighborhood center that happened to have church services on Sundays. Good people. I wanted to be sure everything was okay in that community, so Ali and I went into town.
The neighborhood appeared to be safe, though tempers were as hot there as anywhere else in the city. In their instance, they wanted to protect their community, just as I did. When a local news report indicated the riots were spreading in their direction, they mobilized and created a human barrier between the riots and their neighborhood. The human barrier included blocking off the streets with parked cars and lining up to meet the rioters if they got that far.
They did get that far, chased by the police. Trapped between the community’s barricade and the police, things got violent and the police loaded everyone they could into vans and buses with their hands zip-tied behind their backs. I had to struggle to reach Ali and get tossed into the same bus.
There wasn’t anything I could do there because of the number of people jammed in the bus. We were shuttled to overcrowded jail cells and then processing began. That was when the police suddenly realized I had a leather bag under my arm when they thought they’d removed everything like that from the prisoners. They decided to take it.
I decided not to let them.
I didn’t have many options. First of all, Ali had been with me for around seven centuries. She didn’t have any ID. My ID didn’t exactly look like me. I’d made a few subtle alterations to my appearance when I visited the community, darkening my skin and making my features look a little more like Ali’s. Not like my driver’s license at all.
There was a spell I’d only used once years before that caused temporary paralysis on all it affected. Unfortunately, the more people it was used on, the shorter its duration. Then they resumed whatever they were doing before. I spoke the spell and everyone in the room froze, including Ali. I shoved her into the bag. One problem solved. I quickly moved to the exit, just as people in the room were beginning to stir. I changed my appearance as I walked out so I was a white guy no one noticed as I walked down the street.
It was a near thing. I managed to get back to my car and drove out of the city. Then I went into the satchel and joined my wives and concubines in Areola.
We stayed in quarantine for the next several weeks before I came out and started the construction business up again. I was pretty tired of city living, and that was about the time Peninnah’s email arrived for me. I was sure I had a way out of the Midwest.
In LA, a decade later, twenty-five of us followed the female FBI agent down a few flights of stairs to a waiting school bus. As soon as we were all aboard, it started moving. It came out of a parking garage a block away from the FBI office and headed us toward our mansion. I wanted to ask some questions, but I had family, crew, and contestants all over me.
“What did you do?” I finally got to ask.
“It was Sally,” Mia said.
“Sally?” I was momentarily confused until the little researcher’s head popped through the crowd.
“I did it, Bob!” she proudly announced.
“How did you get here?”
“I was in the mansion to meet Mia when she arrived. When all the Fibbies busted in, I used a sleep spell I’d been practicing. It worked great. They all just collapsed where they were standing.”
“So did any of the rest of us who were near them,” May said. “I still don’t understand how you did that.”
“Well, we woke you up right away,” Sally said. “Then we just stacked the agents up outside, got in a couple of their vans, and drove down here.”
“By that time, Doug had already uploaded the video of the whole incident and when we reached the FBI building, we started the protest. It didn’t take long to gather more people,” Peninnah said. “Doug’s still at the mansion handling the phones and the stream of our rescue. Not all of it is going online. We got some great footage for the show.”
“And you all worked together to come and rescue me?” I asked.
“Amazing where a pram will get you,” Amy said. The single mom from Australia had her little one in her arms. “When I told them I wanted to see my man Bob right now, the whole place got chaotic.”
“Mia had the entire Catholic Diocese flooding the phone lines with demands for your release,” Ranisha said. “I’m going to design and make her a new cross. I have just the right jewels to do it.”
And so the conversation went. It wasn’t quite as daring an operation as raiding sex traffickers (or as bloody), but my new contestants had combined with the family and crew to bring together a protest and a rescue.
We got to the mansion and the bus let us off in front, then drove away.
“Darn it! I didn’t get a chance to thank that woman agent and find out who she was,” I said as we crowded back into my study. I started to feel like I was in an episode of The Lone Ranger in the last scene. Who was that masked man?
“I’m right here, Bob,” she said. “Don’t tell me it’s been so long you don’t recognize me.”
I’m just not omniscient, omnipresent, or omnimnemonic. Remember that last word I coined in Volume 1? Probably not. It means all-remembering. I’m not. I have over four thousand years of experience crammed into a very modest amount of memory space.
I once forgot the name of that mischievous god who runs around playing tricks on people and messing up plans. I’ve had a feeling lately that he’s been tormenting me lately because I still refuse to remember his name. It would be just like him to manage to delay construction of my space ship.
Where was I? Oh, yes. In Areola, I don’t have a problem remembering people because they mostly don’t change much. Yes, I think Sally lightened her hair and made her boobs grow a little, but she was essentially unchanged from the time back in the second decade of this millennium when I found her in a game.