Chapter 1: Darren

In my previous life, I was Darren Peter Hornsby. I was a forty-two year old American History professor at a small, private college near Annapolis, Maryland. I was married with three kids. I drove a seven-year-old Hyundai that was too small to fit my six-foot tall, nearly three hundred pound frame but my wife bought it for me as a gift so I was required to drive it until the wheels fell off.

It was a gift all right, a gift to her.

The damn thing got me to work and back for two weeks without needing to fill up on gas allowing her to spend more money at the local mall, her favorite hobby. I resented my wife and barely knew my children. That all three of my children were losers does not excuse my distance from them, but telling you that makes me feel a little less guilty.

It was a cold, rainy Thursday in November. I was on my way home from work and dreading my arrival.

My wife, Charlotte, I was no longer allowed to call her Charlie like I had while we were dating, had called me between classes and told me that she had been summoned to the high school to pick up Sean, our middle child. He had been suspended from school for a month for carrying a knife and possessing narcotics, enough for the principal to call the cops and get him charged with possession with intent to distribute. Like I said, losers!

I knew Charlotte would insist I go upstairs and talk to him. "The drugs could not be his. Sean would never do such a thing," she would say. "The principal must have set him up. Or maybe it was one of those other kids he's been hanging out with." Just for emphasis, one more dig, she would add, "I told you we shouldn't buy this place. The schools here suck!"

Charlotte lived happily in her lovely, rose-colored world of denial. Charlotte was the only reason we had bought the house. I had hated the layout and the neighborhood from the moment I saw it. The kids complained that the bedrooms were too small and it was too far away from all the friends they had had in the old house we had been renting for ten years. I had warned her she would not like going into the unfinished basement to do laundry but Charlotte heard none of it. She wouldn't consider any other house, or, at least, not one we could afford on my salary.

So, we bought the house and we moved in. Within two weeks, Charlotte was no longer taking credit for choosing the house. It was now my fault. The kids' rooms were too small, the neighborhood sucked, the layout of the house was "just strange," and she hated going into the basement to do laundry. "I shouldn't have to put on shoes to do the laundry." The concrete floor was too cold and hard for her tender little toes. Boo fucking hoo! So, for last few years, I had been doing the laundry after a full day at the college.

I digress.

I was on my way home, dreading my arrival on this cold, rainy Thursday in November when I heard what sounded like a horn blaring. Because of the rain, it was already dark, so everyone already had their headlights on. In my rear view mirror I could see these headlights coming right at me, the reflection blinding me. I remember a sudden jolt, metal screeching, and then nothing.

I was dead!

A semi literally ran over my Hyundai and me.

I hope Charlotte didn't spend all of my life insurance money on Sean's defense. The boy was guilty as sin. Anyone who was looking could tell the boy had been doing drugs for at least the last two years.

Next thing I know, I am standing in this foggy place. I can't even tell you whether it was inside or out because I couldn't see anything but fog. I was standing on something, so obviously there was a floor but I couldn't see it.

I was me but not me. It was as if I was an idealized version of me. I was me as I had always thought I should look. I was also twenty years younger. I once again had a full head of dark brown hair. My thick mustache was nothing more than a bad memory and I was young and svelte which I had not been since ... well, since never.

I was just about to start panicking when I saw a light right in front of me. The light just hovered there at chest level. I was blinded at first, but it seemed to dim, or maybe my eyes adjusted. A loud, baritone voice that sounded like a church bell ringing spoke.

"We are in need of an agent. You are noble and brave. We ask that you be our agent."

I swear to you, there was no one there but the light and me. "Who are you?" I asked. It seems rather stupid to me, too, now. So go ahead and laugh if you want, but what would you have said?

"We are known by many names. Jesus, Yahweh, Jehovah, the Alpha and the Omega, Allah, Krishna, Odin, Zeus, God, The Almighty, and hundreds of others, and that is just on the Earth. We are in need of an agent. Will you be our agent?"

"Me?" I asked stunned, pointing a finger at my chest. "Brave and noble? What makes you think I am brave and noble?"

"We have watched you your entire life. It is true you have grown fat, lazy and resentful in recent years. But it is not your true self.

"Your true self, at fourteen, aided a young girl who had lost her mother in the mall. You missed your ride home and had to walk three miles and face your parent's wrath at your tardiness. Your true self, at sixteen, dove into traffic to push a woman you had never met from the path of an oncoming car. Your true self gave a paper you had written to a friend in need of a good grade while you were a sophomore in college. Your friend received the A, you took the F. While serving in the military, you often aided other young servicemen in learning to survive military life., something you were never asked nor required to do. After your marriage, you worked two jobs so your young family could live in a better neighborhood, while your wife was able to stay home with your young children. These are not the acts of someone fat, lazy and resentful. These are the acts of a brave and noble soul. This part of you may have been hidden recently but we know that brave, noble soul is still within you."

"What kind of agent?"

"You will act to ensure that certain situations are resolved, situations in which we can not be directly involved," The voice boomed.

"What kind of situations?"

I think he/she/it/they laughed at this question. After a second though, they spoke.

"Many and varied situations. Do not concern yourself. We will make sure you are well prepared to deal with any situation in which you find yourself. Will you be our agent?"

What do you say? Do you tell God no? I shrugged.

"Sure," I said weakly.

"Abby"

I awoke on a bed in a cheap motel room. I was naked and there was a very pretty, very young, blond girl on her knees between my legs sucking my cock.

'Now that's a miracle, ' I thought. I cannot tell you the last time any female put her mouth on my cock.

I had no idea who she was, why I was in bed with her, or how I got there. Wherever that might be. I didn't even know my name, I realized.

I don't know how long she had been sucking on me before I woke up but the girl was good at cock sucking and brought me to the edge quickly.

"Darling, you better stop. You're about to find my creamy center."

She giggled at my joke, then wrapped four pretty little fingers and a thumb around my enormous cock, which was significantly larger, in both length and girth, than I used to be, and began to jerk me off as she sucked at the head and ran her tongue over my cock slit. Her tiny little fingers were painted with pink fingernail polish that matched the pink lipstick stains on my cock. I decided she wanted me to cum in her mouth. Who was I to refuse? I thrust my hips up off the bed and shot my load into her mouth and down her throat.

"Damn! That felt good!" I gasped when I was able to breathe again.

While I recovered, my pretty little cock sucker crawled over me and laid down beside me, wrapped my arm around her shoulders and rested her sweet little head on my chest, her tiny rock hard nipples pressed into my side. I could feel the heat from her pussy against my thigh. I looked down at her and all I could see was her shiny blond hair. Instinctively, I raised my head and kissed her gently on top of the head.

"What's your name?"

She looked up at me and I was dazzled by her flashing blue eyes. "Abby."

That was the last thing I heard. My head fell back onto the pillow and I was asleep.

I woke up to Abby shaking me awake. "Your time's almost up. Are you going to fuck me?"

I opened my eyes, lifted my head and looked at her. 'What the fuck have I done?' I thought as I looked at her. She looked like she was twelve years old. I was then hit with a flood of information about the young girl lying beside me. It all just seemed to appear in my head.

Her name was Abigail Thorson. She was a young looking fifteen year old. She had run away from her home in a suburb of Rexville, where the cheap motel I was now in is located, and she had been living on the streets for the last year.

She had been driven from her mother's house by an abusive stepfather who was beating her and her mother. He had already begun molesting Abby and had promised that he would have her as soon as he could get her mother out of the picture. Abby had told her mother what was going on but fear of her husband kept Abby's mother from acting. Choosing not to wait around for her stepfather to rape her, Abby had run.

Abby managed pretty well on the streets for a while. Only in the last three months had she turned to prostitution. She had been conned into that. A friend had told her about a woman who let young girls, runaways, stay with her for a while. Abby had gone to the house and knocked on the door. She had gone to the house because she had been suffering with the flu for more than a week and wasn't getting better.

The woman, named Ms. Crystal, had taken Abby in, gotten her medical attention, given her a warm bed, and introduced her to some very nice girls, all about Abby's age. Abby had been fed, clothed, sheltered, hugged, and cared for. She was beginning to think of Ms. Crystal as a second mother. When Abby got better, she was put to work doing household chores like vacuuming and laundry. Ms. Crystal and the other girls were even teaching her to cook.

Abby could not help but notice that men would come to the house, which was the biggest house Abby had ever seen, would take one or two of the girls and disappear into one of the bedrooms for a while. When the men reappeared, they would give Ms. Crystal some money and leave. When Abby asked one of the girls, what the girls were doing with the men, Erin told her they were working.

It was a couple months before Ms. Crystal came to Abby asking about the future. Abby had shrugged. "You need to figure it out. You cannot stay here forever. You're not going to school or making any money."

"Can I go to school?" Abby asked, excited at the idea. She liked school. She had always made A's and B's.

"Not unless you go home. You have to have a legal guardian sign the forms," Ms. Crystal explained with a shrug.

"Can't I just keep washing dishes, doing laundry, and vacuuming?"

Ms. Crystal shook her head, sadly. "I took you in and let you stay because you were sick. You're better now. Unless you can bring money into the house, I'm gonna have to put you out. Other girls would love to have your bed. Girls who would bring money in."

"What kind of job can I get? I'm only fourteen."

Ms. Crystal had looked at her as a farmer examines a turkey at Thanksgiving, sizing her up, judging her. "I think I can find something for you to do around here. Do you wanna work for me?"

"Doing what?"

"Making people happy. That's what we do here. We make people happy. Mostly men but some women too. You're a very beautiful young woman, Abby. I think you could do quite well here."

Ms. Crystal was patient. Over the next two days, she and Abby had numerous little talks, each short, and each time, Ms. Crystal avoided telling Abby exactly what the job was she had for her. Then, one Saturday, Ms. Crystal came to Abby's room and woke Abby up.

"Abby," Ms. Crystal said, looking sad. "I'm afraid it's time for you to go. I have a half dozen girls who want your bed and can bring in money. You need to leave today."

Abby was in tears. "Please don't make me leave, Ms. Crystal!" Abby cried as she threw herself at the woman and wrapped her arms around Ms. Crystal's neck. Abby hugged Ms. Crystal tight and tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'll do it! I'll take the job. Please, don't make me leave. Please? I'll do anything."

Abby could not see the smile on Ms. Crystal's face. Later that day, Abby went to work in Ms. Crystal's high-class bordello of young girls. Except for Ms. Crystal and her two lieutenants, no one in the house was more than sixteen years old.

Ms. Crystal was the boss. Her lieutenants, both of whom had aged out of being whores, kept the girls in line. Normally, the two girls, India and Janet, were friendly, playing the part of big sisters to the younger girls. Only if a girl got out of line, refused a john, or tried to run away, did they get nasty. When India and Janet got nasty, someone got hurt.

All of this flooded into my mind. I could see it all as clear as I could see Abby kneeling beside me on the bed. It felt like I had just lived a year and a half of Abby's life but it had all taken less than three seconds. I also knew what I had been assigned. It was five fold:

1)I was to keep Abby safe. Someone, I wasn't sure who, was going to try to kill her sometime in the next twelve hours.

2) I was to convince Ms. Crystal to shut down her bordello. The bordello was to be closed one way or the other, whether by choice or by force.

3) I was to find safe haven for all of Ms. Crystal's girls that I could.

4) I was to avenge the abuse Abby and her mother had taken from her stepfather.

5) I was to return Abby to her mother's custody once the stepfather was no longer in the picture.

I also knew a few other things. My name was now Adam Knight. I still had the idealized body I'd had when I was "recruited." It seemed designed so that I could pass for a guy from seventeen to twenty-five. My body was almost super human with Olympic level strength, speed, agility and dexterity. The date was November 27, 2006, just slightly more than a year after I had died as Darren Hornsby. I had been staying at this fleabag motel for two months and was a regular at Ms. Crystal's establishment.

People believed I was a former factory worker from Pittsburgh who, after being thrown out by my wife, had relocated to Rexville in hopes of finding better luck. I had taken a job as a bouncer at a nearby Gentleman's Club known as "The Beaver's Lodge."

Only VIP customers get one of Ms. Crystal's girls to come to them. Normally, a guy has to go there. For VIP customers like me, Ms. Crystal would arrange for the girl to come to you, if you had the money. I couldn't help but wonder how Adam Knight, a bouncer, managed to get VIP status at Ms. Crystals. Maybe all you had to do was pay enough money. Either India or Janet was probably sitting downstairs waiting for Abby to come out.

I also knew I would not be in trouble with my "employer" if I enjoyed my time with Abby, or the other girls if the opportunity presented, as long as I completed the assignment.

Comforted that I was not going to be in trouble for having sex with a minor, I looked around for a clock. I found one on the nightstand. The clock read 1:20 A.M.

I had arranged for Abby to come to my motel the day before. I had gotten off at eleven from the Beaver's Lodge and Abby had been waiting when I got here. I had asked for three hours with her.

"We've got forty minutes," I told her and pulled her down to me. "We got plenty of time yet." I smiled and then kissed her.

I did not feel guilty about having sex with this young girl. Darren would have felt guilty. After all, Abby was only a few months older than Darren's youngest child and only daughter. As I saw it, even if I was supposed to save Abby, for the moment, I was nothing but another paying customer. I might as well enjoy myself. I had put out good money for her time, even if the money technically was not mine, and it is not as if she were a virgin or anything. This was nothing new, nothing special to her.

I slid my hand into Abby's beautiful, shiny, blond hair, pressed her lips hard against my own, and pushed my tongue into her mouth. We played a quick game of tonsil hockey. I pushed Abby onto her back and rolled on top of her. When I pulled my lips from hers, she smiled. "Think you can get it up again, old man?"

"Old man?" I asked. In my new body, I was not more than ten years her senior. "I'll show you what this old man can do!" I said.

I quickly kissed her again, then moved down to one of her small breasts. They were not much more than buds. The nipples were huge in comparison. I licked at one and then the other, sucked the nipple into my mouth, and then slowly sucked the entire breast in. I flicked the nipple up and down, then left and right with tongue as I continued to suck. I moved back to the other tit and did the same. Abby moaned and ran her fingers through my hair. She relaxed and seemed to be enjoying what I was doing.

I stopped playing vacuum cleaner and used the tip of my tongue to circle the base of her pointy little nipple. I slowly made larger and larger circles until I reached the base of her tit, making sure to lick every square inch of her small boob. I repeated the process on the other breast before kissing a trail down her belly to her little inney belly button. I circled it with my tongue, pushed in and swirled my tongue around, playing lint inspector.

I moved down a little more and laid myself between her spread legs. I know what you are thinking, you don't eat out a hooker! It just isn't done! Apparently, Abby thought the same thing. She grabbed my hair and made me look her in the eye. "You don't have to do that."

I nodded as best I could with her still holding my hair. "I know I don't have to, but you're the prettiest and youngest girl I've been with since I was in high school, back when the dinosaurs still roamed the Earth. This might be my last chance to get a taste of teen aged pussy. I've sorely missed it." She gave me this cute little smile, blushed, and then released my hair. I looked down at her little pink pussy lips and inhaled deeply. "If you taste even half as good as you look and smell, it's gonna be incredible."

Abby had only a small, thin patch of puffy blond hair on her mons and none on the lips covering her secrets. I blew some cool air onto the swollen lips, used my nose to spread them apart and pushed my tongue in. She lifted her legs, placed her heels on my back and allowed her knees to fall to the side, relaxed, just like I like them.

My tongue found her little clit and I flicked it up, then down, then right, then left and then started over again. She was already beginning to moan. I used my fingers and spread her pussy lips as far apart as I could and took a quick look at all the pretty pinkness. I ran my tongue around her clit once more before taking a huge lick up her entire slit. This really got Abby moaning, so I did it repeatedly until she convulsed from her first orgasm of the night.

When she settled down again, I speared her hole with two fingers. I went looking for her G-spot and found it right where all the dirty stories say it is. I tapped it with my fingers a few times, Abby clutched at the sheets, and her hips came up off the bed. I kept finger fucking her, making sure to hit that one sensitive spot as often as I could until she screamed out another orgasm.