2 comments/ 8163 views/ 3 favorites The Familiar Ch. 00 By: blackfire13 Prologue: Enthrallment He had no family -- no one of his kind could trace their genesis to any other thing than the brief coupling of power as it rubbed and melded with a piece of Earth. Rock or soil -- it did not matter, as long as it had once been churned and turned liquid in the flowing center before returned to the outer edges, imbued with great potential. Despite his never having had a family, He recalled what the great Mother whispered to him, as he came, fully formed, from innards the split rock that was filled with those jagged teeth of quartz. "Beautiful one, I have only one thing to teach all of my children, and it is that even the proudest bends to the will of Love." After all that he had gone through, in his short five years of immortality induced by the three small drops of liquified plants that were dripped on the quartz, ("Aloe, Basil, Caraway -- A-B-C," the girl had once told him with an embarrassed giggle, followed by a luxurious moan) He had no pride to speak of that had ever been endowed to him. He had been ordered to crouch with his back against the corner and to not look away. He had given it all -- even the part that was his, by the virtue of him being born of the Power -- to the one slithering, unspeakably entwined, betwixt the three men who had no knowledge of his presence. Even if they could see him, would they have lifted their attentions from the unnaturally beautiful woman they all embraced, supported and mounted in turn? His kind fed on emotion and power, and grew their personalities and senses of selves from whatever they were given. Prior to that dark night, He was privy to warmth and, if not exactly love in return for what grew to become unwavering devotion, kindness. As He sat on lean haunches, the tears sticking his ragged hair to his face and his elongated claws bringing forth a harvest of blood from the hands they buried their tips into, He felt a transmutation of his very being taking place in countless explosive conflagrations taking place in his chest. The flames ate everything they touched, and even in the midst of the sort of unnameable horror that took Him prisoner, he feared that he would burn in that horrible room and take her with him. Moments later, watching with dreadful clarity as the Mayor slid his mouse's cock from her glisteningly wet, perfectly shaved (did they know just HOW immaculate she could make herself? And through what means she did it?) cunt, He found that the thought of burning her alive -- the screaming, the transformation of creamy, warm flesh into so much slough and blackened bone -- left a pleasant aftertaste in his mouth. In the theme of taste, He then watched as the farm hand -- the only one of the three men chosen for the pendulous cock that almost looked laughably ridiculous, attached to the thin frame of the boy -- jerked, and with a loud cry came with the reddened tip of his penis stuck in the plump, sucking lips of His Master. The butcher, who held the slender body of the Master above his own stout and heavily muscled own, panted, dog-like, as he pumped his own stout, thick, meat into her perfectly curvaceous ass. He did not seem to falter in the least, as the Mayor awkwardly moved from off top of the Master and brought his cock to her face for a spirited exploration of her mouth. From the moment that He had laid burning eyes on the older man that night, he had hoped for his body to give out, as he filled his Master with his unworthy and far from adequate penis. If he were found dead in his Master's bedroom, what would the village, already just barely tolerating her presence, do to her? Stuck by her command as He was, he could not test out this theory for himself. All he could ever do, now, was watch. The one thing that his Master had no power of in him was the mounting rage that was left in the smoldering remains of what he felt for her, now. The only question which remained in his mind was what he was to do with this newly discovered darkness that lay, coiled, in that pit within him. As he watched the mayor, who looked grotesquely ridiculous with his red face and his powdered wig just barely clinging to his eggs-shaped head, as he coated the Master's face in a thin layer of cum, He smiled with his too-large, elongated lips with no remnant of cheer in it He believed that as the men pulled away from her, he could see his Master glance over at him, and, seeing his disturbing smile, she frowned, as something deceivingly human and frail (a remnant of the girl who had made him a crown of wildflowers, only four summers ago?) appeared, for a moment, in her eyes and expression. The Familiar Ch. 01 The Familiar Ch. 02 The Familiar Ch. 03 Chapter 3: Gimmie Shelter The Familiar Ch. 04 Chapter 4 -- In the Flesh The Familiar Ch. 04 She had wondered already that night, what a priest's reaction would be to her claim of being hunted by some sort of a demonic angel with an over foot-long dong. God, what would her mother do, if she heard that her daughter, who she already figured for being a closeted lesbian with her short hair and her art major, claimed that she was being hunted by some monster with a desire for her? For the first time since Scratch had spoken to her, Catherine smiled at the thought of what her mother's face would look like, if she explained what she was being followed by. Although she would look outraged, there was no doubt that the woman would envy her, even if Scratch was a demon -- since before her father's demise, her mother was always looking for the next hot, young cock to jump onto. Once she got home, Catherine put the first of the ten horror movies that she had got at the only rental place in town in the little DVD player and began to play a web game on her lap top. Every once in a while, she made a point to aggressively chug at one of the energy shots that she had bought. Around four movies later, even with all of the caffeine running at full speed through her body, Catherine began to feel symptoms of fatigue. After throwing the bottles of energy drink against the wall, Catherine began the process of making some black coffee. Two more movies later (sometime around six in the morning), Catherine began to feel her body kicking at her, demanding sleep. The television screen seemed to take on a blurred, unreal look, and the computer screen felt as though it was burning into her eyes. Memories of when her insomnia had been really bad came back to Catherine, as she worriedly recalled that the last time that she had had intensely bad insomnia had been years ago. Since then, she had managed to fall into a normal pattern of sleep almost every night. Forgot about that fact, when you boasted about being an insomniac, didn't you? Catherine moaned, and was in the mental process of thinking that she should go for a walk when she felt her consciousness slipping away. Some unknown amount of time later, she opened her eyes with a start, realizing that for however much time it had been, she must have fallen asleep. Fear and shock came over her, and she searched her room, her eyes darting to the ring on her finger, to the lit bathroom, every corner of her room, and then, finally, to the covered window. A sigh of relief gusted out of her, when she saw the sliver of weak sunlight the poured from the small crack in the curtains. She had won, and whoever -- whatever -- Scratch was, she may have gotten enough time to get help to deal with him. There had to be a church in town, somewhere... Pushing the hot, sleeping lap top from off of her, Catherine slowly tried to get up, and came to her feet as she realized that the movie on the television was still, despite however long she must have been out for, playing. "When we sleep, that's when he can get us. Whatever happens in the dreams... they become real. But, as long as we don't fall asleep," One of the characters in the movie said, slowly, "then the boogeyman won't get us." "Yeah, but we'll all fall asleep, eventually." Another one of the characters said, regretfully. When the television suddenly shut itself off, and when the loud sound of a man's laughter boomed off of the walls in the hotel room, Catherine realized with cold horror that she had not just woken up from her sleep. She had just fallen asleep, and, now standing in front of her, just close enough so that his massive erection could brush, hot, against her stomach, was Scratch. The Familiar Ch. 05 Chapter 5: Control "Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power." --- Oscar Wilde Catherine was standing in front of a creature who introduced himself to her as Scratch -- who, incidentally, looked as though he could be the most handsome man that she had ever seen. His face was inhumanly beautiful, and just the thought of what he intended to do sent her mind into a panic. She wanted to speak, as she looked up at his grin, and realized, then, that she had never noticed before that his canines seemed longer, sharper, than a normal human's. His smile seemed to seethe with corrupt, raw sexuality, and looking at it, Catherine found that she could not think of a single word that she could say to this man, his smile or his body. She had the feeling, after everything that he had done to her, that reasoning and pity were beyond his comprehension. He continued to stare, mercilessly, into her eyes, as he engulfed her small hand in his own and carried it down until he had her hand wrapped around the beginning of his thick shaft, just beneath the mass of its head. She hadn't actually held the thing before then; she had felt the soft, hot skin on the back of her hands, but until now, she had never cupped it. God, weren't these supposed to be made of flesh? In her wonderment over the weight and the hardness of what she held, her hand had begun to drift ever so slowly down it. She felt shocked, to her very core, when she heard Scratch let out a ragged groan. Unaware, at first, that she was doing it, she began to rub the central part of his cock up and down, then nearly jerked her hand off of it when she realized what she had been doing. Before she could fully rip her hand away, his came down, capturing not just the one hand that had been holding onto his erection, but also her other hand, as he met her wide eyed gaze with his. Something started to burn inside of Catherine, when her gaze drifted from those dark eyes to see the slow, steady panting that puffed out of his lips and made his chest rise and fall, rapidly. Catherine, who always had a feeling of general powerlessness casting a dark shadow over every part of her life, felt something inside of her that she had never before, truly, felt. In one moment, she saw the very exact connection between her touch, and the struggle that Scratch had to control his own body. Channeling both what she naively thought were tricks she learned from the porn she had watched, as well as deeply imbedded instinct, she continued to stare up at Scratch's handsome face as she gently trailed, gripped and suctioned her hands over his erection. As his face spread into a blush, and the hardness in his eyes began to, ever so subtly, waver, Catherine soon managed to avoid looking down at his massive penis and losing her will. Staring into Scratch's face and seeing his strength and pride ebbing away into acceptance emboldened Catherine. When she began to feel as though her hands were beginning to chafe the shaft, a bit of her earlier fear returned to her, as she felt indecisive over what, if anything, she should do next. A flicker of his earlier smile returned to Scratch's lips, and Catherine realized, in an instant, that she could not afford to give back a piece of whatever she was gaining by doing what she was doing. Catherine shot down to her knees and, softly, first pressed her lips against the unbelievably massive head of Scratch's penis and then snaked her tongue out. She heard him gasp. It was the first time that she had tasted any part of his skin, and it sent a shudder through her body. No longer thinking consciously as she did it, she felt her hands reach up to encircle around base of his penis as her mouth opened around the head to suck it in. She tried to swallow as much of the thick, straining flesh as much as she could in one go, but when she quickly tried to dislodge his cock from her throat, she felt a large hand press against the back of her head, pushing her further forward, nearly choking her. After five seconds, Scratch stopped pushing her head forward, and Catherine pulled her mouth loose of his cock, taking in long, ragged breaths. "You're certainly eager." Scratch said, sounding as though he was having trouble getting enough air to breath, in between long shudders. Staring at the tip of Scratch's penis, Catherine watched as a small dribble of pre cum came out and began a lazy trickle down the monstrously thick, bulbous mushroom head. Leaning slowly forward, she slipped her tongue over the drop and dragged her tongue over the plump flesh of his cock head, following the path that the drop had come from. In a blink, Catherine felt herself being tossed back onto the bed, and, following the quick fall that took the breath from her lungs, she felt Scratch's large hands roughly pulling, and in some cases, ripping her clothing loose from her body. When he finished, all that she wore was her white bra. And then it felt as though Catherine had been walking on a high wire and had suddenly looked down. Looking up into the still face of the creature who pinned her, she felt herself let out a scream. Scratch smiled, and it was both horrible and wonderful -- and Catherine knew that whatever she had afforded herself, she had just lost in a moment of panic. She seemed to be watching from a distance outside of herself as Scratch spread her open without a single protest, and, with almost cruel slowness, began to push himself inside of her. As his head entered her fully, Catherine felt herself seem to reawaken, and she began to struggle, attempting to extricate him from her. As soon as he sensed her struggling, Scratch grabbed onto her thighs with bruising strength to keep her still as he pushed more inside of her. The pain was fire, spreading her inside further than she previously believed that she wad capable of. As she opened her mouth in a choked cry, Scratch bent down so that his mouth was pressed to her ear, and, as more of him pressed inside of her, he began to chant something in a strange language that frightened Catherine deeply. As he pushed more inside of her, his voice seemed to take on a quality that suggested that he was struggling to keep up his chanting, panting some of the words out instead of whispering them clearly. At some point, Catherine realized that her own voice had joined his, and her mouth moved and slid around the same language that he had spoke to her in. Without realizing it, in the fog of fear and pain, Scratch had managed to slide as much of himself inside of her as he could fit, and in one slow, fluid motion, he was sliding out of her. Catherine's relief at having the hot, massive flesh outside of her body was momentary, as her and Scratch's chanting became louder, and she saw his body jerk towards her, and suddenly he was filling her past capacity anew. As he completely filled her, he broke off his chanting to suddenly shout, his body going stiff on top of hers, and with the chanting gone, Catherine suddenly and for no imaginable reasons became acutely aware of the nearly tearing pain that came with the massive penis buried deep inside of her. As she began to cry at the pain, she suddenly heard Scratch yelling over her crying in the same chant that he had been speaking in before, and just like that, the pain dulled into vagueness. As be began to remove himself, again, from her suction, she realized that under the dulled pain that she began to feel a pretty intensely-growing pleasure radiating from the inner flesh that still clung to his cock. When he fully removed himself, and was poised to push himself back inside of her, Catherine had the sudden realization that she was beginning, whether she liked it or not, to experience the same pleasure that caused the large creature atop her to struggle with his chant. He pushed back inside of her, and a ripple erupted from all of the pleasure centers inside of her, and she felt herself clench around Scratch, and the ripple of pleasure carried back to Scratch, as he tossed his head back and howled. As his chant ceased, Catherine had to catch her breath as she felt a wave of pain come up to meet the pleasure that shook the lower part of her body. For a moment, her eyes focused on the straining muscles that knit and unknit themselves loose in his shoulders as he pulled himself loose of her body, and, in a voice that sounded as though it resonated from somewhere deep in his chest, Scratch resumed his earlier chant, his voice reminding her of the noise of great rocks sliding against another. As he pushed himself back inside of her, she felt as though her body was somehow being filled with the words that he chanted as well. Something akin to horror struck her when she felt as though something inside of her responded, in a soft and muffled voice, back to his chanting. After Catherine had assured herself that he had not heard whatever she had inside of herself (how could he?), she felt Scratch grow suddenly still on top of her. After a moment, he rose his head, until he stared deep into her own eyes, looking as though he were searching for something in her face. His voice never fully stopped its chanting, but as he looked at her, his voice had shrunk to a soft murmur. After a pause, he fully extricated himself loose from her, laying his penis lazily against her stomach. Even after all that had just happened. Catherine was still shocked at the size and weight of it. "Tell me true, and tell me, now," Scratch suddenly said. "do you know of the language I spoke to you in?" Catherine's mind spun as she tried to decide the best way to answer him. As she fought for what she should say to him, she felt Scratch's thick cock spurt a large amount of hot liquid just below her rib cage. "I -- I don't know the language you were talking in, earlier." Scratch sighed and pushed himself up and partially off of her, paused, then looked down at her stomach. In one fluid motion, he lowered two of his large fingers to brush the liquid that his cock had pumped onto her, and, as he stared at her with an implacable look in his eyes, he brought the fingers to Catherine's parted lips and pushed his fingers inside, rubbing them against her tongue. As he removed his fingers, wet with her saliva, from her mouth, Scratch said, "I thought you knew better than to lie to me. I am newly disappointed in you." Catherine sensed that beyond the rape (oh, but was it rape when you still felt a residual longing, and when you forgot who that boy with kind eyes and long hair was?), there was something yet more dangerous being promised in Scratch's implacable voice. Frightened, all that Catherine could do was shake in fear of what was to come next, and murmur, "No.", softly under her breath. "Oh no," Scratch said with a loud sigh, moving so that he was positioning himself to press his cock back inside of her, and, with one effortless push, he entered her anew. "you speak to me now, and recognized what I said, in the old tongue. Now," He winced, shuddered, and began to slowly thrust his way in and out of Catherine, and she felt herself high on an itching desire to meet his thrusts with a meet of her hips. Her hands reached down to grab onto his hips, and Scratch looked at her hands for a moment before raising his eyes to hers. "I believe that the preparation rite has settled in, and your body is able to -" His strong voice faltered, and he thrust, harder, into her, and somewhere, deep inside of her, Catherine felt something embrace something besides the enormous member inside of her that should have sent tearing pain wracking her body. She reached up, with no hesitation, to grab, hard, onto his shoulders. Somewhere in between his thrusting and loud moaning, Catherine saw Scratch raise his eyes to look into hers, and she recognized the look of panic that flashed for just one moment in them. It was, after all, a feeling that she herself experienced, and experienced often. The understanding, that she had come so close to grasping earlier but had lost in a flush of fear, returned with hot inspiration. Somehow that enabled her to look past her intense fear of him, and she raised her head so that she pressed her face into his neck. She more felt, in the thick, strained cords that lay on the left side of his neck, than heard him moan, "Noooo." Somewhere, pressed against his neck, she felt something threaten to throw apart every fabric of her sense of being and sanity, and only when she reached the summit of the feeling did she realize that she was cumming, and she was screaming wordlessly over Scratch chanting the word, "No," over and over. And then she felt as he tried to pull himself loose of her, and, instinctively, she closed her thighs as tightly as she felt him weakly struggle. He cried out, "Noooo," louder this time, and then his voice turned into something else, as he convulsed and let out the most inhuman moan that Catherine had ever heard in her life. For a moment, hazy in a feeling that she wished never would end, she believed that she had, somehow, through the most unimaginable sex act that she could ever imagine taking part in, managed to turn luck in her favor over the monster above her. Then she felt the heat that built up inside of her steadily, and realized that he was ejaculating inside of her. Trying to summon up all of her strength, Catherine tried to push him from off of her, and heard Scratch moan, "Noooo," again, and, for the first time since she had heard him say it, she agreed with his dismay. Instead of trying to struggle off of her, Scratch pressed down on her with immense strength that should have hurt Catherine, and choked out loud gasps. And then Catherine believed that she was watching as Scratch, the hotel room and, indeed, all of Rock Garden, Idaho, fell away from her, and she floated up and towards the surface of some great body of water. Below her was the utterly dark place that she knew too well, where, circling in a frenzy, were the creatures who existed when the first oceans were awake with life. She could not look down at them, or she would lose her will, and oh, she wanted to reach the surface more than she wanted to live... Her arm shot up to feel the wind of the surface, and she became aware, as she opened her eyes, that she was not floating on the surface of some ocean, but was, instead, lying partially naked on the bed in her hotel room. As she tried to rise her mind from its rest, she jerked awake when she saw Scratch, who sat facing away from her on the far end of the bed, hunched over so that it looked as though he were resting his elbow on his knees. The thought -- to try to get to her feet so that she could escape -- came and went with the understanding that she could not escape him now. She felt as though her body was weak and will-less. "Save your worries for another time, dearest," Scratch said in a voice that was smooth as smoke, the bitter sarcasm buried so deep in it that it was near-impossible to sense. Near-impossible, but still perceivable. "the boogeyman is busy thinking about how best to torment you when you least expect it." A thousand thoughts fluttered past the outstretched hand that attempted to grasp them in turn, before finally grasping one. "Am I -- are we -- still dreaming?" Tired, but with the same almost sinister edge to it that his voice seemed always to possess, Scratch said, "Near every moment is a waking one for me. Oh, but you do dream vividly." And then he muttered, so low that Catherine almost did not catch it, "I could not have imagined how brightly you dream." "What are you?" Scratch was so still and quiet for so long that Catherine almost thought that he was never going to speak. Then, finally, he said, in a hard voice, "Although I find myself wondering what to do, I am by no means done with you. I think you need to squirm for a while longer. Squirm, and wonder what I am and what I mean to you, until I am ready to reveal this knowledge to you." Indignation, finally, then. "You -- tell me what you are; you did what you wanted to me!" Even in the state she was in, Catherine could remember every nuance of their earlier intimacy. Scratch sighed, a heavy sound that came from deep in his chest. "You are in no position to order. Or to barter. I'll give you some advice, and if you are as smart as you put on, you'll follow it unless you relish the idea of them finding you dead in this bed one morning from a, uh, particularly intense nightmare." He paused. And the weight of the silence seemed to bear down in full on Catherine's chest. "You don't have nearly the amount of tenacity -- or time -- that I have to fight me. Give up, do what I want." "And what do you want?" A downright diabolic chuckle. "Taking this playing beyond the realm of harmless -- well, nearly harmless." "Playing? Playing?!" Catherine shouted, forcing herself to try to move so that she could sit up on the bed. "You raped me!" Scratch sighed once more and shook his head. "You make it sound as though this is some sort of a human relationship. No, this is more complicated than you could imagine -- ah, but that's hardly important. I'm sure that you are going to wake, any moment now. "Bastard!" She spat out, angrily. And then finally Scratch turned around, revealing his utterly -- infuriatingly - calm features. "Hush, now. Would you rather I give you none of that narcissistic hope that you humans always possess, even when they know what they truly face? Yes, I can see it in your eyes," His lips turned in an awful, frightening smile. "your anger. Funny, though, because when you get the chance to see me, your mouth waters at the sight. How does it feel enjoy a hate fuck as thoroughly as you obviously did?" And then her eyes blurred with tears as a hopeless feeling settled in her throat, which made her voice come out in a strangled croak. "Why do you hate me?" She sat there, wiping tears out of her eyes, waiting for an answer, before she realized that she was no longer sitting up on the bed, but was, instead, lying down on it. She quickly realized that she was not only waking up from sleeping on the bed, but she was also fully clothed and curled up against her laptop. As she unfixed herself from the laptop, she quickly realized why she must have wound herself around the thing, as the cold in the room seemed to bite at her skin as she gained full consciousness. The way she felt reminded her of the night she had gotten drunk, that one time, with her roommate -- pathetic, cold, aching and somehow, immeasurably lonely. As she struggled to her feet, she realized that she was still wearing the ring, and, beginning to cry, she wrenched the ring off and threw it across the room. Somehow satisfied, Catherine went into the bathroom and began to shower, wanting the water to burn away the block of ice in her chest and that hollow feeling that told her that as dark and frightening as his presence was, Scratch had at least been someone that she could speak to in personal terms. She had not been able to speak anyone outside of small talk or assurances that she would try her hardest to make school work for years now. And then, as she reached down to turn the water coming out of the shower head off, she felt the water turn itself off and her blood froze hard in her veins. For a moment, all she could do was stare at the hot and cold water taps, as she envisioned Scratch turning them off. No, some instinct told her suddenly. this is not him. As she waited for him to make himself known, she felt an insane urge over take her reasoning, and she stared down at the taps, and, with a timidly shaking hand, she motioned towards them, in her mind the intention to turn them back on a focused thought. The Familiar Ch. 05 With nearly aching slowness, the hot and cold knobs turned themselves back on. The Familiar Ch. 06 Chapter 6 -- Power "Sex: the thing that takes up the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble." -- John Barrymore "-We're still short o' all the wood we'll need to get this fuck fixed." Danny beckoned Catherine over to look at the floor in the kitchen -- what of it that was left, after most of it had been ripped up, leaving gaping holes in the floor. Since she had entered the Bed and Breakfast, the only good news that she had gotten was that the basement of the place only had some minor structural damage that would require that they just be set back an extra month, instead of the three months that they thought it would take. Everything else was just bad. "How long will it take to get all of the wood?" Catherine asked, rubbing at her temples with her fingers. Was it possible that she felt worse than she did last night, even with the threat of rape over her head? Danny scratched at his head and looked around at the kitchen thoughtfully. "Weather's bad." Well, duh. "About a week. Don't worry, though, we got other stuff we can focus on while we wait for the materials for the kitchen. 'Cause you managed to give us some idea of what ya'll are wantin' in the foyer, we can get started on that. Before we do, though, we want you to look around and point out what ya'll want done, specifically." Danny gestured vaguely out of the kitchen. "Go find George and show him what's gonna get done, an' he'll tell you if it'll work." Catherine did just that, yelling in the echoing foyer for George. When he finally did, she was not surprised to find that he was a crotchety old man wearing paint stained work clothes. Catherine walked from one point to the other in the the foyer, telling the man what she hoped sounded like good ideas and not complete crap. What bothered her was that no matter what she said, the man only quietly nodded, or, on occasion, grunted at what she said. Eventually, when she ran out of things to point out, she awkwardly told the old man good bye, and he walked back towards the hallway on the opposite side of the first floor, where the first floor rooms were. Once again Catherine got the feeling that she had fulfilled what little role she played, and had been left to her own devices. To go back to the hotel room. Although she had not wanted to, her eyes instinctively went to the staircase as she stood in the center of the foyer. The more she thought of the ring and all that it meant, the more certain that she grew that this place definitely had something to do with it all. And now... Looking around for any of the workers, Catherine began to climb the staircase up to the second floor. As she ascended to the floor, she began to feel the gently throbbing headache behind her eyes begin to feel as though it were compressing, before it shot out where she was intently focusing -- the wall to the right of the window. Something felt as though it had come out of her with a force that left her feeling sick. She thought that she heard something knock, softly, against the wall that she had focused on, but other than that, there was nothing else left of all of the pressure that Catherine had been gathering since she had left the hotel room. She sighed and reflected on the way that she had been able to focus and had been able to make that penny slide off of the mini fridge earlier. Baby steps, whatever it meant. As much as it made her stomach twist, she reflected that this recent change could only be attributed to last night. As much as that fact bothered her, she had decided, upon coming straight with herself with the fact that she now possessed some sort of mental powers, that she could try to find out how to make them stronger. For the first time, she glanced around the corner to look up the staircase that lead up to the third floor and she walked up the stairs. A quick glance up and down the hallway showed Catherine that the only difference on the third floor from the second was that there were some rather creepy looking bed frames that were piled up on the right side of the hallway. With a glance to each new floor that she ascended, Catherine made her way up to the top floor. As she rounded on the last flight of stairs, she found that at the top of the stairs was a closed door. A creeping feeling started somewhere at her shoulders and spread up to the skin of her scalp as she walked up the door and, hesitating for one moment, threw it open. The inside of the loft that made up the last floor was a complete, albeit utterly abandoned and almost completely destroyed, apartment. Although she did not know it for a certainty, she felt that this place had been the home of her apparent ancestor. No furniture was left in the room, which gave Catherine a foreboding feeling, not helped in the least by the effect of the yellowed newspaper that had been stuck to the two windows in the large living area. The place made Catherine feel as though she shouldn't have gone into it. She, somehow, did not belong here. As she walked up to the windows due a curious part of herself, wanting to see what the view from the top floor must look like, she felt a cold chill cross her body. As she shivered and drew her coat closer to her body, she remembered the analogy about the feeling you get whenever someone or something walks across your grave. -------------------------------------- She was pulling those newspapers loose from the windows -- the bizarre act of that fat realtor thirty years ago. He had managed to make that idiot trip on his way down the stairs, and after that, he had not returned to the Bed and Breakfast. Well, until very recently, that man had been the last person with any legitimate reason to go into the building. Seeing her in that room -- pale and shaking from the cold and, more than likely, her body's unconscious reaction to recognizing his presence -- brought him back to older times. For a moment, he could have believed that the girl under the thick coat (she could not classify as a woman, as naïve and how full she was of false bravado) was the one who gave him life. Then took away everything that made him feel alive. The comparison made Him angrier than he already felt. He was well aware, as he watched her gingerly peeling those papers loose from the window glass, that he had fucked up. The cardinal thing in the traditional sense was the process of giving semen, which their bodies turned into something new and powerful. To him, what he had done was tantamount to dangling the keys to her cell just an arm's length out of reach. Although she may not be able to do it -- and this was likely, if she was unaware of its existence -- it would be only a few more steps, if she were to have the upper hand in this. She had gotten the best of him -- it was no real surprise to him, really, that a woman -- any woman -- could get the upper hand on him in the midst of sex. Nothing could be done, save to prepare for the next time. Leaning back against the door frame, He gave her body a cold sweep with his eyes, and came once again to the conclusion that the last thing he wanted was to give over power -- to her. One good thing to come of what happened last night was that he had gained a tether into the physical world, as she had gained a taste of Power -- and, as luck would have it, it was in this room that his ability to interact with the human realm was at its strongest. As luck would have it. Something dark swept across His features, as he leaned over so that he could push the opened door shut. ---------------- As she glanced down at the front of the building through what ruined paper that she could peel off of the glass of the window, Catherine felt her blood freeze as she heard the sound of the room's door slamming shut. Even as she began to turn around, an excuse was already in her mind. It was probably just the wind- As she turned around to look at the door, she saw it -- him -- out of the corner of her eye, leaning lazily to the right of the door's frame. When she turned to look at him full-on, the image of him disappeared. Memories of the night before snapped her body immediately into fight or flight mode, and she began to dart her eyes all over the dilapidated apartment, hoping that there was any other way out of the apartment that was not the door she had come in. Quickly realizing the obvious -- that there was no other way out of this large room, besides through that door -- she straightened her posture, squared her shoulders, and, in the most commanding voice that she could manage, said, "You need to leave me alone. You're just a -- a -- ghost or something, and I could go and get you exorcized so fast that it'd make your ugly head spin!" Instead of any sort of a voice, it was silence that answered her. Somehow, the pure silence of the empty apartment frightened Catherine more than the sound of his self-congratulatory voice ever could. The cat and mouse part was over, she could sense, and unless she got out of the room, she could sense that something was building in that room... She bolted for the door, praying that he was indeed only trying to frighten her. Her hand almost connected to the door knob before some unseen, massive arm reached under her, and, in one clean movement, dropped her two good feet from where she had stood before. "Let me go-" Unless they think to look outside to see your car, Scratch said in her head in a voice that was worryingly stronger than it had been yesterday. They'll likely think that you've left. She felt herself being picked up by two large, unseen hands. "Oh God, let me -" No letting. No; not for you. Scratch sighed, and she felt his breath on her cheek, each breath spreading out so that it warmed the right side of her face. You are a foolish little -- little -- sheep. And now you don't need to fall asleep for me to do what I do to you. Catherine felt a hand go to the zipper on her coat, and she choked out a, "No!" as she felt the hand pulling the coat loose from her body. Stop me now if you can; stop me from taking off your coat, then the rest of your clothing... And the rest of the movements stopped, but Catherine could feel his presence, his body, pressing up against hers. Already feeling herself cry a little, Catherine tried to tug loose of the unseen body, only to find that something unspeakably stronger than herself were holding her without any difficulty, as she flailed. What chance did you think you had against me? I could fuck you right here, if I wanted to. He pressed himself, hard, against her, and pulled her coat loose of her body. Yell, and even if those men could hear you seven stories up, I could be gone the second they come through that door - he leaned in and nuzzled his lips against her ear, causing Catherine to nearly jump in surprise. - and you'd be left, naked, in this room. Or would you like it? Hands on her shirt, and he pulled away for a moment as he pulled it off of her body before he began to work at her bra. Would you like it, like how you loved showing your breasts -- as quickly as he had the bra off, Scratch was holding the flesh of her small breasts in his oversized hands. Pleasured quickened in her abdomen as her nipples, hardened by the cold, pressed into his palms. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from letting out a breathy little moan at the touch. His smell, too, was starting to affect her reasoning. - to all of those men? Forcing herself to think straight, Catherine choked out, "No, please, don't do that..." Scratch tightened his forefingers and thumbs on the tips of her nipples, then, gently, pinched them. Catherine had to try to control her own squirming. If you're comforted by the thought that I couldn't do anything more to you than what has already been done, know this; a hand escaped one of her breasts to go down, where Scratch pulled the button and the zipper loose on her jeans, before he pulled them down her legs in one quick, hard flick. The hand immediately went for the spot between her legs, one large finger protruding through soft flesh. Nothing, and I mean nothing that we did as you dreamed was done to your physical body. To her shock, as she listened to him, Catherine felt herself let out a horny moan before she could stop herself. As she froze, horrified to betray what she was getting out of his attention, she felt Scratch go completely still. After one long moment, she heard him say, in a voice that seemed to have, somehow, dropped its earlier velvet-over-steel nature, What was that? Before Catherine could think of any way to respond, his voice returned to its earlier intimidating nature, as he said, You did enjoy me, every time we were together. Why, you came just by me -- And the finger, pressed, hard, inside of her, thrust up in one clean motion, and she felt him slide inside of her. - touching you. Another moan, and her fear began to become very seriously drowned in her own horniness. No, no more like this, she thought to herself, trying, desperately, to remember why she could not do this. She felt herself fall back against him as her eyes shut and she felt her legs spread themselves further apart. ---------------- He had not considered before that her desire for him, asleep, would fully carry over into her body, fully awake, accepting him like this. Unlike the previous encounters that he had with her, he forced himself to disregard the wonderfully, horrible novel reaction that her body had to his attention. To his shame, a shadow of his old self reacted to her squirming against him. Pleasuring her, he tried to remind himself, was not the point here. And although he tried his best to disregard it, his penis reacted to her as though it recognized her body as its rightful plaything, and turned his thoughts towards hot sex. Hot sex, he reminded himself, he could not fulfill right now, even while in the place where his physical form was strongest. Trying to focus, He shook his head, trying to displace that drunken, needing feeling from his mind as he tried to recall what he wanted to say. Oh, but the way she allowed him to touch her drove everything in his instincts into a boil. She wants and so I provide. That disgusting adage that had made him an undignified, crawling shadow of himself brought him back to sanity and made him regard the way her ass practically clung to his stiffened erection with cold disregard. "Remember -- I make all of this as pleasurable to you as I wish." She moaned, and he wondered, faintly and with hidden surprise, if she had heard him. After a pause, she shook her head and moaned, "Noooo." "I could, right now, if I wanted to." He lied smoothly. Without meaning to, his eyes traveled down to look at her little breasts, which heaved and moved with each of the ragged breaths that she dragged in and out of her lungs. "Please -" "Please what?" He had nearly forgotten his entire reason for doing this. Surely he had already made his point. If so, why was he continuing to do this? "Oh please, just fuck me or let me go." Catherine gasped out. Before he let go of her, as though she were on fire, His hands had froze on the parts of her warm body as though they were permanently stuck there. He opened his mouth, wanting -- needing -- to say something, but had no idea what to say. How could this have happened? He had learned, from the culture in the area, what people were apt to be most frightened of -- horned, massive men were supposedly the most loathsome of forms to the people of the local culture. He must look absolutely frightening to this virginal girl, and although he was aware of the fact that her body would naturally react to his smell, he did nothing but try to use his body as a tool of intimidation. After a moment, in which he had stopped touching her, Catherine seemed to suddenly realize what she was doing. After a beat, she shot down to the ground as she tried to gather her clothing up, trying to put everything on in one rush as He watched her in a state of frozen surprise. As he opened his mouth, thinking to say, "What do you think you're doing," he heard a voice coming up from behind the door to the apartment. -------------------------- "Hey! Are you up there, Miz Mollinson?" As she hurried to snap her bra back on, Catherine recognized the voice coming from the stairs as Danny's, and she felt a rush of horror and relief shoot through her, for the moment blotting out the desire that still lingered, heavy, in her body. "Yeah -- yes, I'm in here, Danny," Catherine yelled, struggling to pull the shirt over her and thrusting her arms through the sleeves. "We saw yer car parked out back, we didn't want something to fall on your, or you to get trapped somewhere," He laughed. He was at the door now, and she could sense his hand at the door knob, turning it. "last thing we need is someone to get injured in here." As she turned to grab her coat, she saw, once more, out of the corner of her eye, what appeared for a moment to be Scratch, standing in an intimidating pose, his legs spread and his arms crossed over his large chest. Even in that brief flash, her eyes went down and lingered on the sight of the large limb that bobbed in one upwards movement. Her mind flooded with images of tongue-kissing it, and she knew that she did not need to see the look on Scratch's face to know that he was either smirking or grinning at her. As she pulled the coat on and zipped it up, Danny came into the room. As he saw he zipping the thing all the way up, he gave her an odd look and told her that she shouldn't wander too far, with nobody with her. Catherine nodded a bit too hard and wondered if that look on his face had something to do with a distinct scent of sex that was coming from her body, as she followed him down the stairs. She could practically feel his eyes burning holes in the back of her head as she left.