Summary: mind control, incest, Mf, minor ff
Mix a girl as pure as fortified whole milk with a boss as nasty as
maggot-riddled rancid flour, and what do you get? Well, I'm still not entirely
sure, but it's kind of fun finding out.
See No Evil: Contains sexually explicit and politically incorrect material. If you shouldn't be reading this, or if it might offend you, simply stop now.
Legalese: All actors and actresses are over the age of consent. Proof of age is on file. Any similarity of any character, event or place to any actual person, event or place, is purely coincidental. This is all fantasy, and the actors are all professionals -- do not try any of this at home.
Archiving: You are welcome to discreetly repost or archive this, just do not change it, steal from it or claim credit for it.
Author's Ramblings: I wanted to do a slow one. The sex doesn't really pick up until chapter 4 -- sorry, folks, not even a first chapter "hook" for you this time. Why would anyone write such a story? The higher you build 'em, the farther they can fall (although ... I'm not sure our heroine ever really falls in this story).
Live well!
You are now leaving the realm of the known and well-lighted and crossing over into a realm without stability, a world with only potential, a shadowy landscape with--
Oh, you get the picture. The chapter below is a draft chapter. It is subject to change, revision, rewrite or even total deletion (though drastic changes are unlikely). There may even be ungrammatical half-thoughts or notes included below. All this is still copyrighted by Jafar. These draft chapters are given as a courtesy so that those interested in this story can peek on where the author is currently thinking of taking it.
I hope you enjoy the draft(s) and the story as a whole.
(Sunday afternoon)
"Mr Smutogler ... I need to use the bathroom."
"Again?"
"It's been a hundred miles since our last break."
Smutogler sighed. Why God would give women a bladder the size of a thimble -- it had to be some sort of divine act of twisted humor. But he just didn't get the punchline.
"Sir?"
"Yeah, I know. You gotta go now. I could pull off the side of the road and stand guard while you tap a kidney." He grinned. "I won't even peek. Promise."
Bethany crossed her legs in the passenger seat and squeezed. "No, sir, I can't do that. It wouldn't be proper."
"Well, then, it's twenty miles to the next town. Can you hold it?"
"I'll have to."
Smutogler pursed his lips. She WOULD have to. He just couldn't get another speeding ticket. He wouldn't be driving for a year if he got one. She'd just have to hold it until town.
Five minutes later, his passenger was wriggling in her seat, sliding her butt to sit on the other hip every half minute.
"Look, I can pull over. And I'm serious: I won't peek. You're ready to burst. Let me stop."
"No ... just get us ... to the town ...."
"Bethany--"
"Please ... just hurry."
Smutogler cranked the speed up 5 mph.
Five minutes later, her fists were pressed at the top of her thighs, and her upper lip was white with a line of sweat across it.
"Bethany--"
"Just hurry!"
Ah, fuck it. Smutogler goosed the car up to 85 mph, keeping his eyes strictly peeled for cops. "God," he thought, "I'm doin' a good thing here. And she's one of Yours. You owe me one. Just keep the way clear of cops."
He lightly pressed the brake to bring them down to 64 mph as he crested a hill. When he saw no police cars ahead, he pushed it back up to 85 mph.
"You doin' okay?"
"Yeah ...." Her voice was strained.
Five minutes later, Smutogler had to bring it down to 50 mph as he entered the small town. His eyes spotted a diner and he screeched to a halt in front of it.
"Go pee. I'll park the car and be right in."
Bethany opened her door and started to stand up out of the car, but couldn't quite do it and also keep her bladder from releasing, so sank back down in her seat. She leaned a little further forward and tried a second time, making it now. She made her way to the door, walking fragilely.
Smutogler saw her go inside, then started the car forward again. Some asshole pulling out of the parking lot almost hit him and blew the horn, and Smutogler flipped him a bird. He parked the car, then headed into the diner and took a booth to wait.
A few minutes later, Bethany came up from a back hall, looking a lot less bunched up and walking with a much more natural stride.
"Thank you," she said and sat down. "Much better."
"Geez, Bethany, next time ya gotta tell me sooner. You shouldn't wait 'till you get all doubled over like that."
"I know, Mr Smutogler. I've ALWAYS been like that, though. I go along fine, then suddenly I just have to go. Really go."
"Yoo guys ready tuh orduh?" a waitress with unintentionally pink hair asked.
Smutogler looked at Bethany. "Well, we're already here and stopped. We might as well stuff our holes."
"Sure, I could use a bite too."
"You're just not allowed to drink too much," he grinned.
Bethany smiled. "Yes, sir."
"Oh, that's so sweet. I'm gettin' a cavity hee-uh. So knock it off. What'll you have?"
"Well, what've you got?"
"Aw, geez. Ya ain't got menus yet?"
Smutogler shook his head. "Nope."
The waitress walked over to a shelf beside the cash register and brought back two menus. "Yoo guys figure out whatya want. I'll be back."
They looked over the menus, then set them down. "A whole week," Smutogler commented. "I may go stir crazy. Maybe we can go out and catch a couple of flicks."
"I don't get out to see movies often, Mr Smutogler. Most of them today aren't wholesome enough to be worth watching. No, I brought along five novels. I'll probably be spending most of my evenings reading them."
"Oh."
After ten awkward, silent minutes, the waitress came back. "So whatcha want, sweetie?" she asked Smutogler.
"Ah, that's easy. One greasy hamburger smothered in onions, fries, a dozen little breakfast sausages, and a chocolate milkshake."
"A man after my own cholesterol-clogged heart. How 'bout you, sweetie?"
"I'll just have two toast and a glass of milk."
"Okay." She took the menus. "It'll be up in about ten minutes."
"Where did you grow up, Mr Smutogler?"
He gave a bitter little chuckle. "Would you believe I grew up in southern California? Used to be a blonde, muscular surfer dude. Sort of a Beach Boys type. Then I went to New York. I got fat and hairy, except the hair on my head grew dark and fell out. I shrank six inches because indigestion from the spicy foods curved my spine. Oh, yeah, and now I have permanent halitosis."
Bethany was shaking her head. "Gosh, really?"
"No, of course not. How 'bout you. Where'd you grow up?"
"Would you believe I was born in a Brooklyn slum, sort of a juvenile delinquent type. Then I moved to the midwest, my hair got blondish-brown, the bridge of my nose shrank, and I grew six inches because of the milk I was drinking. Oh, yeah, and I found religion."
Smutogler's jaw was hanging open.
"Not really," she giggled.
"Bethany! You just made a joke!"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I did! I do DO that occasionally."
Smutogler shook his head. "I never woulda thunk it. I mean, you're always so ...."
"God doesn't punish us for humor, Mr Smutogler. In fact, sometimes it's the best way to reach people."
"I always thought the Old Boy liked a good one myself. I mean, look at the world! He's gotta have one hell of a sense of humor, right? Otherwise he'd do us all in and start over."
Bethany shrugged, then they sat there a couple minutes until the meal came.
"That's not much food, Bethany. D'ya want one or two of my sausages?"
"I don't eat meat, Mr Smutogler. I haven't for ten years."
"Don't know what you're missing." He began inserting the burger into his mouth. It was like watching someone attempt to stuff one dufflebag too many into the overhead luggage compartment on an airplane.
"I do know, actually, and I don't miss it."
"Mrgh khmft mng ngmtmd."
Bethany kept her eyes firmly averted from his mouth while he chewed. "I'm sorry?"
After a minute of gnashing and devouring, Smutogler swallowed hugely. "I said, how could you not miss meat?!"
"I just don't. In fact, I think I'd get horribly sick if I tried to eat any."
Smutogler shrugged, then lit into his sausages.
Ten minutes later, they paid for the meal, and started the car towards their MDG center again.
Ninety minutes later, they arrived at the Shady Oaks hotel, the message above the vacancy sign greeting them, "Welcome MDG attendees!" The seminars would be taught in a set of conference rooms in this hotel, but it looked like there were two shopping centers across the street in case they wanted to get out some.
Smutogler parked the car, then they entered to check in. Their rooms turned out to be across the hall from each other on the twelfth floor. Smutogler drove them around to the nearest stairwell/elevator, then they unloaded their luggage and took it up on the elevator.
"MDG is hosting the introductory dinner at 6:00. They said it was mandatory," he reminded her.
"Why don't we meet here in the hall fifteen minutes before then?"
"Sounds good."
Bethany took her luggage into her room, unloaded some of her clothes into the drawers, steamed and hung the rest, then set out her toiletry items in the bathroom.
She checked the clock -- another two hours before the dinner. Plenty of time to relax, meditate and gather herself. She sat down, took a few slow, deep breaths, and imagined the beautiful golden light of Jesus Christ enveloping her.