Bob's Memoir: 4,000 Years as a Free Demon Vol. 3
Copyright© 2022 by aroslav
Chapter 80: Finale
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 80: Finale - "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 WAS DONE. There was an official recognition of Areola by the United States Government. And with that recognition came a Presidential Pardon for Lacy White. She sent a note of thanks to the President and an official resignation to Lacy’s boss at the FBI. Then she and I went to bed together for the first time since her reappearance.
“You know, I can’t complain about our first time together,” she said as I filled her welcoming vagina. “But I hope this time we can take a little longer and really enjoy the experience. Thirty minutes was just too short a time for our first time together.”
“Not to mention less than ideal circumstances,” I said. “I was not expecting to engage with you in quite that manner when we went into the private room at the club.”
“I wasn’t sure I would have the courage to do it. Other girls talked about the fucks they’d had in the private rooms, but I’d never done it. It all seemed more commercial than what I wanted our first time to be.”
“You are a beautiful woman, Lacy. You were then and you still are. I came to love you during our time working together.”
“And look! In just the short time I’ve been in Areola—you’ll have to tell me if it has been a day or a thousand years. I honestly can’t tell—my boobs have gotten firmer. They’re almost what they were when I was nineteen and trying to convince myself that being a stripper was a valid way of serving my country.”
“Did you know that Nimia is 4,000 years old, by natural world reckoning? And she has the same difficulty telling time that you do. It’s irrelevant here. The priestesses have been with me 400 years and all still look like the gentle beauties I baptized on their first day here.” I was a little wistful, I guess.
“Oh, Bob, I’m so sorry your priestess was killed. She was so beautiful and so devoted. What was her name?”
“Well, that’s one of the unusual things about the priestesses. None of them has ever spoken her name. They all declare themselves simply ‘Priestess of The Bob.’ I can’t even go into their temple unless I am in full demon persona and not a trace of human in me.”
“Perhaps not tonight, but soon, I’d like that full treatment. For now, just love me some more. I am so happy not to be living under cover for the FBI.”
Lacy was not the only person wanting my time in the wake of our rescue and the recognition by the government. We were sent an ambassadorial committee of four women who, of course, wanted a tour of Areola.
It was very funny. They came to the mansion—by appointment—and were shown to my study. I opened a portal to Areola and they took a deep breath and stepped through. The first thing they did upon arrival was undress! The president had carefully instructed them on protocol. Indeed, everyone around the pool was naked and I stripped off my clothes for the tour as well. They were only a little uptight, but they relaxed as we continued through the buildings and they got used to seeing naked people.
They didn’t get the whole infinity room tour. They were shown the palace and grounds, the pool and temple, and the libraries.
They were impressed that in what looked to them like a non-technological society, we had a form of television and telephone. They were all a bit disconcerted, however, that their cell phones didn’t work in Areola. Perhaps most impressive of all to them, however, was their tour of the Library of Alexandria and the story that went with it.
“This treasure that you have collected may be worth more than all the alien technology you can offer,” Erin Flynn, leader of the delegation said. Sometime along the tour, she had taken my arm as we walked. “We would definitely like to arrange a repatriation of the volumes of this library to the new Library of Alexandria in Egypt. It would go a long way in cementing relations of Areola to the rest of the human world.”
“I think we can arrange that,” I said. “However, like other things, I believe the process should be undertaken over the course of a number of years. The sheer volume of historic information contained here would overwhelm most libraries. Our librarians have had many, many years to come to grips with what is here.”
I did not mention that some of the librarians were from the original Library of Alexandria. They had no desire to return and I had no desire to paint Areola as an eternal fountain of youth. There were already applications coming to our office in the mansion for tourist visas. I didn’t think I was going to allow tourism at all.
And, of course, the committee wanted to interview some of the women who had elected not to return to the natural world after their ordeal. When they departed, none of the committee members had dry eyes.
“Bob,” Erin said as we neared the end of their tour. “We don’t know all the customs of your world. We’ve all seen your interviews this season on To Boldly Go, though. If it is customary to seal our friendship with sex, I am willing and available.”
I was not really sure if that was an official offer or her own spur-of-the-moment suggestion. I rather thought she was hopeful.
“While Areola is a world with a lot of sex in it, no one is ever under obligation. It is not a transaction and is not expected of residents or visitors,” I said. “We even have a temple to Aphrodite here and the priestesses there make it their mission to physically comfort and entertain anyone, male or female or other, who feels in need. There has never been a case of rape in Areola. If there was, the perpetrator would have been unmade.”
“Killed?”
“More. Completely disassembled and returned to the primordial mass,” I said. She shivered and pulled herself closer to me. She was as close as we could get and still be able to walk.
“We would like to establish an embassy here. Can you tell us how to acquire land on which to build so we can have a full-time ambassador here? We’d also like to establish your mansion in LA as an official embassy of Areola to the United States. Of course, we would welcome your establishment of an embassy in Washington, DC.”
“Things don’t actually work that way here,” I explained. “No one acquires land. No one owns any. People have homes they found that are perfect for their purposes and just moved in.”
“But how do you collect taxes?” she asked.
“There are no taxes in Areola.”
“How do you fund things like the raids on the slavers?”
I led her to the pool and as if I called—which maybe I did—the fifty-one priestesses of The Bob filed out of the temple and into the pool. I shifted my form to the goat-legged demon they loved. Erin gasped at the transformed body she was still holding onto.
“Every person who participated that night was a volunteer. Our force was the fifty-two priestesses of The Bob. There are now fifty-one. One of my precious priestesses was killed by a trafficker and I will mourn her forever.”
“You did all that with these girls?” Erin asked.
“There is no force greater than these women,” I said. “You will see it in our finale.”
Erin hugged herself to my demon form and inhaled deeply. I escorted her to her clothing before I took them back to the mansion. The other three women in the delegation—the president obviously knew who to send—had scarcely said a word, but they all huddled close to me and inhaled my scent.
At the mansion, we agreed that the US embassy to Areola would be established in a mansion next door to our LA home. And we were now an official embassy to the United States.
“I still don’t believe you’re a demon, Bob,” Sonia said. I had been one hundred percent truthful with her about my nature since the day I met her and she still wouldn’t accept that I was a demon.
“I don’t know what I could possibly do to convince you, my love. I’ve been completely honest with you.” She’d even been present when I was in full demon mode and carried the lifeless body of my priestess into the pool.
“Don’t try. I know you believe that is your nature. But I have seen more since becoming one of your women than any demon could possibly hope for.”
“What is that?”
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