

### Leaked  
The Grey Files:  
Angry Brothers V1.

Copyright December 2016 Ash Nom DePlume

Published with permission of the legal copyright holder in this edition.

ISBN 9781370773954

Editing and review by Jack Angry of the Angry Brother's, whose characters appears in the book are used with his permission consent and assistance as he owns all rights to his characters and those of his cast of players.

All Rights Reserved, so no part may be used, reproduced or story characters without permission of the copyright holders of those characters. Contact can be made through contact information found at the end of this work, or email ashnomdeplume@yahoo.com is also available to reach the copyright holder of this work. Jack Angry can be contacted through his various distribution methods directly for those who want to make use of his materials, and subscribing to his YouTube channel is a nice way to show him support, and Egor at Ultra Toxic Television who stopped by for lunch is also available for a visit.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is a work of adult or mature audience fiction and not intended for young readers consider this a PARENTAL ADVISORY of unsuitable for young and/or impressionable minds, or those easily offended. This work contains Aliens, Zombies, Paranormal, and sexual situations, and a host of other topics unsuitable for younger readers, and such.

Table of Contents

Prologue Angry Brother's Vol. 1

Dear Journal, I should bring you up to date.

Dear Journal, had to thumb a ride.

Dear Journal hanging at my first HorrorCon.

Dear Journal I turn the tables and arrange an interrogation of some otherworldly beings.

Dear Journal, no good deed goes unpunished. Now to get the demon girls out.

Dear Journal – I survived Saturday at HorrorCon – a walk on the weird side.

Dear Journal – packing boxes, repairing/driving an RV and getting a drunk to talk is the order of the day.

Dear Journal: Shoveling everything from B.S. dirt, ice, and snow.

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other books by this Author

### Prologue Angry Brother's Vol. 1

This is the borrowed, purloined, leaked, or do I dare say the honest phrase, stolen private Journal of Ian James Salvador Grey Dragonovich. For those who have read his other Journals (so don't expect poetry or perfect grammar) he is a special person and if you look at the same source, you obtained this Private Journal you should be able to obtain his other journals. James, as he goes by, has a 30-year gap in his life with no apparent aging or memory during this time is a bit paranoid about losing more time, he is a prolific journal writer. Then he has been abducted by aliens and now is hunted for religious nuts from both ends of the spectrum and the governments, all looking for something from him. Luckily for me and you the reader of this and the other series, I have purloined that I am able to beat the security of this online storage service, enjoy.

It's all good as long as I don't get caught, so enjoy your voyeuristic view into his life.

Sincerely yours,

Your Secret Hacker
Dear Journal, I should bring you up to date.

You are the latest installment in my journal collection, you're not the first and I hope not my last. My name is Ian James Salvador Grey Dragonovich, James Grey for short. I ran out of pages in the last Journal, so now I continue with you. First, why do I write my life into your pages? The answer is rather simple; I need to assure myself that I will not suffer another gap in my memory. I crashed in the ocean off the coast of Vietnam in September of 1965. I find myself over 30 years later, not having any memory of the time that passed.

A magazine called Bizarre Strange & Magical that is really a government front to discredit UFO, and paranormal phenomenon currently employs me. John Grey an ancestral relation that makes him loosely an Uncle is in charge of the operation. The two of us are the only ones who know the entire story. BS&M tells its stories in such a way that all credibility is removed from the subject matter.

Uncle John has lived since the time of the 5th crusades, which makes him over 700 years old. Members of our family have an unusual genetic trait, that some family members when under prolonged stress develop Herculean abilities. We enjoy having a life span that is 10 times normal length, with abilities in strength, speed, and injury recovery equally accelerated. Pheromones are also increased, which can be very entertaining, as is appetite. I eat about 3 times normal amounts of food, which makes me a walking ecological hazard. Too many of our family members with fully active abilities and a plague of locus would look like a good time. Naturally, we seem to find ourselves facing superior problems than "normal" people.

We are playing "the game" for who decides the fate of the human race; them, or us humans. The biggest problem is we don't know the rules, who or how many players are playing.

### Dear Journal, had to thumb a ride.

Yes, it's true I am running again. I am really thinking I should just wear athletic shoes and save myself some trouble. Then I would have to consider body armor as normal undergarments, which is hard to hide, though I could just dress as Darth Vader, Boba Fett, or a Stormtrooper which would kill any chance at stealth, or getting a seat at a good restaurant. On the road, again, except I don't have wheels, and this time I think the government wants to chat first which puts airports, trains and anything else requiring the use of an ID off the menu. I found a payphone, yes, there are still some, near FAO Swartz at 3rd and 60th for those not familiar with New York City, and called John's cell phone, going through the whole ring once hang up, ring twice hang up, before he would pick up on ring three, from an outside number. "Unsecured line, so don't tell me anything you don't want to appear on an official record somewhere. How can I help you?" John said with a bit of a laugh. He does love the paranoia, is just good thinking routine jokes when he can get them, and the readers of Bizarre Strange & Magical get a charge out of things the government denies. Which means it must be true, since they denied the existence of Bigfoot, the whole tribe must be secret shock troops to protect Area 51.

"How much time can you spare for a chat?" I asked, which is code for how long until I am doing my track star routine.

"2 to 5 minutes, before I need to run. I am sure the infamous THEY know my exact location it is just a question of how long it takes to get someone to pester me," he replied. Code for they know my location, so just spill it and get ready to put on my boogie shoes. I am currently catching up on my music and am in the 70s era working my way through KC and the Sunshine Band's materials.

"FAO Swartz in NYC is where I am using a phone booth. Suggestions?" I replied. "Buy some toys, use their on-site bank and get some cash. You might want some bloomers and anything in a blue box would be wise and hit an ATM or two to be cash rich until you reach safety. I will see if Tiffany is able to do a pickup, but if she is busy, you will have to make like George Washington and hoof it," John said. Which I translated as get money shop and Bloomingdales, and Blue Boxes and the name of Tiffany must be Tiffany's & Co. If I miss a pick up get to George Washington Bridge and missing that make my way to another safe spot to make another call. I am guessing whoever monitors these calls are not as fast as the TV experts who are always decoding things in real time.

The bank in FAO didn't bat an eye when I asked for ten thousand dollars in various denominations for a gift. The bank teller had a clerk help me find a Teddy Bear backpack designed to be a container for a gift of large amounts of cash. The bank even had cute gift ribbon wraps on the money.

Tiffany's prices required I use the credit card for the items I got there. Instant advertisement of my location, but part of this game is letting boys think they can get close. Bait is a bitch of a job. The delightful Tiffany's clerk even arranged for delayed deliveries of my shopping list throughout the year so I will never be late again with a gift. For what I got and the price it was not as painful as it might have sounded. They even arranged for me to have twenty little gift boxes with their free giveaway items. They were even hip that I just wanted to toss them into the air to give away to whom ever I meet. I think they think I am joking, but you never know when you might need a distraction and a signal to whoever was my ride out of this mess. I even got myself a key-chain with forwarding mailing services if I lose my keys, again. It has been a rough few weeks.

Being that it is two hours from my last conversation with John, I hit the door with my packages. By the bus stop was a white rental car with obscured plates on it, and a plump undead monk in a white waving for someone. I waved my bag of Tiffany boxes and he opened to door. As I ran towards it, two men in black types made a move in my direction and reached into their coats. Stupid, telegraphing their moves, not to mention, they obviously don't know who or what I am. "Trick or Treat I yelled as I tossed the bag with 20 or more little Tiffany's boxes into the air while throwing a couple at the boys in black like a fastball. With my ten times, normal strength a sweet innocent, one might even say sexy Tiffany's box, becomes a painful projectile.

The passengers on the bus that was unloading in front of my ride, seeing the free Tiffany's boxes in flight, started moving. For those who don't know it, most ladies in NYC wear tennis shoes on the bus and put the heels on at the office. Professional football players do not move as fast for a football with a million-dollar contract as an NYC woman seeing a free Tiffany's box. As I got in the car, I am sure that both of the boys in black have suffered a pancake sacking for the crime of coming between a New York Shopper and a Tiffany's box. It might have had something to do with the 100 or so little packages of anal lube that had been thrown out by the door opening undead looking monk. I am guessing that sidewalk is going to be slippery with anal lube with and without menthol for sensitivity. Usually, I think I am working for the kings of kinky and then I get a reminder that it can always go lower.

"Ride Mister," said James Angry who was driving like a demon from Hell towards the FDR. "Yes, a great idea," I said as I pulled the Teddy Bear backpack off my back and put it more comfortably on my lap. "James," James said. "Yes, I am, James. A unique way of identifying yourselves to me. Interesting costumes," I said.

"I am James," said James. "I am Jack," said the doorman passenger. "So, you are the favor that Johnny boy needs a quick ride out of town," said James. "Things happen," I replied as this was stranger than my normal, which considering I investigate UFO's and magic, is saying something.

"You owe me a night of drinking and whoring, which I am missing out on," Jack demanded.

"Never mind that shit, did you get rid of all those misbegotten bad anal lubes?" James asked.

"Two packets of the extra sensitive mentholated ones got caught in my pocket but I am sure we can find someone who will want that for their butt toys," Jack replied.

"The dick numbing ones are gone, right!" James shouted.

"YES! YES! YES! And double YES! I tossed the nob numbing once first. Talk about products designed from the pits of hell. What good does it do to pound ass to deliver a good PAINAL for the mistress if you cannot feel when you are doing it and she does get the pain she demanded? You definitely want a good condom between your pecker and that shit," Jack said.

"Sorry about the unusual weaponry, dude, but John said you would be in a tight spot and we needed to be ready to grease anyone who was in your way. I have been so wanting to get the ass end of bad products out of my life and this seemed a perfect way, and we didn't have to shoot anyone. One damned product number off on an order and you get butt numb instead of boner enhancing," Jack said as we turned up the FDR.

"Slow down, you're going to get us in trouble with the coppers again. You know what happened the last time we were in New York," Jack said angrily.

"Was that when John showed us about buttering her ass?" James asked.

"That was during the articles of confederation. Just because you're undead doesn't mean you can forget important things like there are more of them than us, and they have a lot of guns," Jack shouted back.

"Hey, one of you have cash for the Bridge? We don't want any hold ups, while we fish for change," James said.

"You have all the cash oh I am in charge of the money and buying the pussy," Jack shouted at the driver.

"How much?" I demanded.

"Looks like a 20 will cover it," James said.

"What about the plates?" I asked.

"Fuck, I'm on it," Jack said while the car pulled over to the side of the road. A moment later and a trunk slamming later, we were back on the road, and James handed me a cold beer for after we cleared the bridge.

About five minutes after we cleared the Hackensack River, I reached for the beer, to find it was some sort of spiced rum drink, and then asked, "Ok, guys what is with the get-up, not exactly on the QT."

"He doesn't know," Jack said.

"We better tell him," James replied.

"First, we have a few stops to make on the way. One it will keep you off the radar, and two, our fans expect us to appear at the HorrorCons," Jack said.

"More important is that we already have arrangements to have our brains fucked out and balls sucked dry each night of this trip," James gleefully stated.

"John asked us to pick you, up. You will cover the cost, and we are to hide you in plain sight if possible. That way he knows where you will be to send reinforcements," Jack said.

"Unless you would rather skip, willing sex partners, a woman who swallow and loves a good slap and tickle, for the opportunity to be shot and killed. Trust me. Being killed by a gun is no fun, and Hell is a bitch. They have lube, but you don't get any. After all, it is Hell, and they do transform you," Jack said as he did the check out the body routine with his arms.

"So, what is your back story and am I to assume you will be in character the entire trip," I said.

"First, here is your bullet from Tiffany's, and you owe me a new cloak," Jack said as he handed me a 9mm hollow point that he dug out of his chest.

"How far back do you and John go?" I asked. Are these two oddballs family or something else? The digging of bullets out of flesh is usually my act. Whatever is going on, different is definitely part of the description.

"Late winter of 1773 or early 1774, is when we first caught up with John in New York, we got sent out to represent the monastery in The First Continental Congress after the crown seized our liquor, for the soldiers needs instead of our own, one time too many," James started.

"No, the Congress wasn't until September, remember that was when we got to break in the little debutante'. You remember the oral one who likes to suck and be licked but didn't know how to swallow," Jack said.

"Oh yeah, it wasn't until we pointed out that it if she spilled a drop it would stain and rich men she was looking to entice to marriage would know, and she would be shamed," James remembered.

"Why does the winter of 1773 come to mind?" Jack asked.

"Travel and arranging a meeting of thirteen competing and uncooperative colonies takes too much time especially back then. It started around the Yuletide season, and we had to get some barrels from the farms in New Jersey to sell in Philadelphia to make up for the money the British drank." James added.

"We were winning the dice game until John figured out the dice were loaded," Jack recalled.

"That was how we met him. Had to bribe him with lots of liquor to get the barmaid drunk enough that we didn't need to pay her to have him not kill us or tell everyone. The things we did to protect the honor of the order," James joked.

"You are saying you have been alive for over 200 years and so has John," I replied. Even though I "knew" John's age it is another thing to have it given third party confirmation.

"No, we are dead or undead, went straight to Hell. Where else would you send a couple of monks who fornicate more than a whore in heat and can drink a brewer into bankruptcy on a slow weekend? This is where, Inferna our buxom blonde mistress is either kicking us in the balls or milking them to exquisite dryness, has been keeping us. We just recently got paroled to the Omaha house, to do our little bit for Hell on earth. But as usual we are as reliable to Hell as were to the 18th-century monastery," Jack said. James almost moaned with pleasure when Inferna's treatment was mentioned. I think he has grown to like it. Roberta and crew have competition on the kinky competition.

"I think I am going to need a few drinks for this story," I said, especially if Jack and James were going to make porn sounds every time being maltreated by Inferna came up.

"Fine you fill the tank up, and we will get some ice for the drinks and reload if they have the right supplies," James the lush of the group said as he put his hand out for money as we stopped in front of a gas pump.

Jack was driving (so only a small gin), James poured himself a big and stiff wild turkey on the rocks, and I had a rum and coke, while they explained to me.

The Angry Brothers are a pair of undead monks who were members of an obscure monastic order that existed in the northeastern portion of the Colonies during the American revolution in the 1770s though the order goes back to its origins in Sleepy Hollow.

The Brothers Jack and James were on hand for Benjamin Franklin's signing of the Constitution in 1787 but had to sit in the back of the room because of Jack's rude comments to Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson; James was intoxicated and kept screaming he wanted a rematch with the British. Apparently, they were buying the rum and ladies that night as an apology.

Brother Jack being a degenerate con man and schemer ran afoul of the leadership of the small Benedictine monastic order that he called "The Brothers of Preputial Procrastination, the most notable of his transgressions was the running of numerous floating card and dice games out of the basement of the monastery. Though almost as notable is he also was running a home for unwed mothers out of the nearby convent, that he called Our Lady of Eternal Frustration.

James being hopelessly addicted to drink and a love for fine European jewelry, clothes, and footwear was Jack's gambling debt collector and enforcer. Jack and James despite their many moral failings provided a fully stocked schoolhouse to the children of the town by "liberating" many Religious Relics from both the monastery and the convent and replacing them with gold plated copies. When asked why he and James would go to that trouble Brother Jack Replied "It wasn't any fun to con people that were so poorly educated that they could not appreciate the subtlety of what was going on around them" James just thought it was more fun that way.

The Brothers ends came within days of each other in the winter of 1778 when Jack after running one con too many on the local magistrate and seducing both his wife and daughter (something requiring a lot of butter which was got him noticed), Brother Jack Angry Died of a Pistol wound to the chest and expired on the floor of the monastery.

Brother James being given the sad task of seeing to his brother's burial turned to EXCESSIVE (they meant really excessive) drink staggered over the side of a bridge and drown in the Charles river although there were whispers of suicide thus The Angry Brothers were buried in unhallowed ground and their names were stricken from any church records.

Brothers Jack and James Angry awaken not really knowing where they were but do remember their deaths upon their initial joy of being reunited discover they have quite literally died and gone to Hell! As if any of would think they were going to end up anywhere else? As they described it, when we looked up all they could see was very buxom blonde woman holding a LARGE pitchfork "Greetings, boys, I'm Inferna and I am in charge of making you miserable until the boss decides what to do to you." Inferna then proceeded to rain blows on the brothers with the obligatory well-placed knees in the Balhoogies for good measure for the next two centuries.

Fast forward 233 years The Brothers are released from Inferna's tender care and installed in the Monastery of Mayhem a decaying relic of a church in Omaha, Nebraska. This is where Jack and James are given the task of doing everything and anything they can to aid the devil and his minions, in their quest to jump start the apocalypse and bring about the fall of civilization. I do manage to hang out with the most delightful of people. Some days my so-called life takes a twist for extra twisted.

Brother Jack being an obedient servant of darkness as well a monk, for the good guys, has other ideas being somewhat of a secular humanist found he liked life in present-day Omaha, and with the help of James do their work to stop (or at least slow down) Hell's plans to start Armageddon. They tell me that Inferna is getting wise to the Brothers, so has arranged for herself to be assigned to the monastery of mayhem as their HR director, to keep them on the "Straight and Narrow" as it were. She thinks they are out to promote their Cable TV show which she thinks is aiding in her boss' plan. The reality is these two have found a way to get paid to go around the country and get blown, rimmed, pegged, or do the same to every woman who is willing to go down or have them go down for a good cause. A good cause being defined as the pursuit of pussy.

As near as I can tell we have three weeks of HorrorCon's to attend on the way back to Omaha, and somehow their booth is next to the whips, chained and battery operated boyfriend distributors at each one of these events. Journal, does the phrase stepped into this time mean anything to you?

I am sure my special la natural aroma will make things interesting in this environment, that the boys in black are too straight laced to look for me at Horror movie convention/BDSM toys proving ground.

As we pulled up to the hotel with attached convention center for the HorrorCon in Smallville New Jersey, I asked the fateful questions "Looking at the different signs, what are the different types of subgenre of Horror? And tell me I get my own room."

"We have a suite with a few beds and a couch, but how much do you know about swinging? We remember your great whatever granduncle and how he always put the ladies in a good mood with his smooth talk and presence." James said with an evil grin.
Dear Journal hanging at my first HorrorCon.

James is a greedy and tight ass lush, but he does know how to schmooze and book a nice room. The adjoining set of suits near the emergency exit and only 3 floors up, is a sweet setup. The tub is big enough for an orgy and comfortable enough for a nice warm soak. I hate the cold and caught a bit of a chill so a hot toddy and a soak was right on time.

"Jimmy me boy, need some help to set up some booths, the favor credit is usually good for a hummer later," Bother Jack said in his best imitation of a character called Finnegan from the Original Star Trek, as the Brothers are series sci-fi addicts.

Doing my best letch imitation, or not so imitation, "Did you say a hummer?" I replied as I am newly warmed up, I grabbed an extra fluffy towel while checking to see how much time was left on the heat lamp timer.

"Here is a mortician's costume, but you will have to get it bespoken at the booth by Taylor, who will spend as much time feeling you up and getting the look just right. You owe her $200 for my new costume and this one is $500 including the blowjob," Jack said as he pointed me towards an outfit he has tossed across the bed, as he headed back into his suite.

"Bespoken?" I asked as I found my way to the outfit on the bed.

"Sorry old man, every now and then my dated vocabulary shows up. Tailored or custom made, but tailored by Taylor seemed too much of a pun. We need to get moving quick as there are about 20 booths we are on the hook to help with before the midnight orgy and it is already 4:30, on the Thursday eve of HorrorCon," Jack said.

I was about to say what the fuck at the prices. The heavy fabric tuxedo ala morning suit, with a long vest, and the stylized overcoat of heavy woolen cloth of black and gray-tones was looking gorgeously warm. It was also looking like it was worth a lot more than $500. "How much?" I asked as a question towards Jack's door.

"Jack hit her with a feeble mind, so while I got a quickie, we talked her into something for materials cost. Nobody has been taking an interest. As you do have a model look, and you will be covering the TOY booth, everyone will see you. Hiding in plain sight and you will look gorgeous. We will get you a lot of drinks and a fan as that looks like it is a roaster of hot amount of cloth. Then I like the more bling look while Brother Jack loves a bit more of the grungy look," James answered from the connecting suite door.

At this point a 40 to 60-year-old woman, with too much breast overflowing over the top of the black over-top corset, and red top and mini skirt over a FULL figure posterior with garters and stockings, and come fuck me now platform stiletto heels, pushed her way into the room with an armload of clothes that she threw on the bed. "What a waste to bury a bed on clothes at a time like this, BUT, we are rushed so we will just have to be quick. You two get out, I will ravish you later, in the meantime, I need to get his sweet piece of meat ready," she said in an over the top phone sex seductress voice. Roberta would be impressed with the whole set up.

Mind you I have only an oversized fluffy towel between me and naked as a jaybird and quickly working on thinking no boner, no erection, tax returns, politician talking. While the goth horror queen looking for a servicing is come onto me with let's put clothes on you seduction routine.

"Well, nobody has lied. You will showcase my work well. Usually, when I have me a special tailoring job, it is to hide the package for a Tranny, so armor and weapons are semi new. Usually, the HorrorCon crowd want the armor and weapons to be seen," she said seductively while staring me right in the crotch, as she held out a pair of black silk boxer-briefs.

"A moment," I said, looking for a little privacy while I got less naked. There is a time and place for getting one's balls drained, but a moment to know what the situation is and is not is needed. I have two possible zombies, no, I don't believe in that, but could be another alien modified set of humans. With witnesses in the mix, I really don't all my adventures being coming home as it were. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, should apply to all my travels as far as I am concerned.

In full dominatrix character, "DROP that towel!" and a softer more seductive voice, "everything needs to be taken into account for this outfit. I need to know which side you dress towards naturally and such. It has a Texas style external catheter so you don't have to rush the John, as this is not an outfit you can peel out of quickly," Taylor said.

Thirty minutes later, I was in a wicking silk set of underwear, long underwear, with flexible armor fabric, and a modified British Thermal Suit (BTS), to regulate temperature, a Morticians suit, complete with a coat-clock (with cowl) ala Sherlock Holmes, and pockets for money and weapons throughout. It was a bit over the top, but for HorrorCon is/was almost too classy, and low key, for the streets it is highly stylized and high-end expensive fashion. The armor, hidden money pockets and padding, and such might even last. The black on black, looks was interesting, and the old English gentleman riding boots look good and provide some decent traction as well as more weapons options.

"Horror Steampunk, I like it, and the coat to a robe with cowl is something I may want," Jack said to Taylor.

"Yes, he is good enough to eat, speaking of which you owe me booth setup, dinner and a spanking and a serious endurance fuck. He owes me fuck and facial as a minimum," Taylor said while pointing to me.

Jack said something, which I did not quite catch, and I suddenly felt buzzed but not drunk. Taylor, on the other hand, was all but passed out and on her knees, begging "Give it to me," and looking totally stoned and mentally entranced like in a bad porno version of a horror film. "I'll take it from her. Feeblemind is so useful, and you are immune. You are definitely related to John," Jack said as he was lifting his robe aside, as I was heading towards James' suite door. I heard a slurping sound as the door closed.

"Leave it to Jack to be collecting a hummer and she swallows, while you and I get to do the physical work. Time to see if that getup is too stiff to move and work in, or is just for looks," James said as he directed me towards the elevator.

The full outfit weighs about 40 to 50 pounds, but with my strength, was like wearing a heavy set of sweats. Speaking of sweat the thermal suit had a small pouch for dry ice, and reservoir for the hot radiator gel, a small but powerful rechargeable battery pack to circulate hot and cold liquids in the closed loop to regulate my temperature. Despite the 5 layers, I was a little cold. The controls were simple, and I could see the temperature was set to keep a normal person comfortable at 70 F or 21C. I adjusted it for my temperature of 90F or 32C preference. Which should also extend the life of the battery. Taylor's day job was designing specialty environmental suits for private space industry. It uses my body movement to circulate the heat and recharge the battery. When she wasn't trying to get me to pop an erection for the prick tease routine that the entire HorrorCon seems to have as the underlying purpose of the woman's clothing choices, she spoke in my kind of science languages. If this BTS does the job, I need to buy out her company or as much interest as I can to keep, John, Julia and myself in comfort. Even in a full winter parka, a New Jersey winter can put me into hibernation in about 10 to 20 minutes.

"Time to slave in a non-fun way," James said as we hit the convention floor. There were about ten professional crews doing set ups and being bitched at by the booth owners trying to save money. The corner we were to be located had about 20 booths and a bunch of less than happy ladies in different combinations of HorrorCon come fuck me outfits, and a few men one step from a heart attack heavy in sweats using tools with a look of I do this once a year whether I need to or not level of skill. I peeled out of my layers of coats. Carefully putting them in the Brother's Angry booth area, as there was close to ten grand stuffed in the pockets and several less than legal real weapons in the special pockets. My show weapons in the vest were legitimate knives and deadly, but there for the show, and not so much for the go. James for an undead Monk obeyed simple directions of lift and hold this as it became obvious to everyone I can use a powered screwdriver and set the booths up with great speed. Then being able to move displays that normally take 4 people with heaving grunting like so much cardboard helps. The music collection from the Top 100 Billboard songs from the 50s to today helped keep things flowing smoothly.

At ten to twenty minutes a booth, I was through fifteen of the twenty by 9 pm. I was not sweaty or cold, I am so loving this BTS. At which point, Taylor with my sensitive nose, smelled of semi-fresh orgasm and ready for more, arrived. "How are the clothes for flexibility and comfort?" she asked, with a more seductive follow-up, "anything needing adjusting, or to be handled?"

I looked at the battery life on the BTS and saw that it was still at full charge as my movement was powering the fluid movement. The dry ice was half gone. She looked at my settings and told me that lower is better, but this is good for saving the battery and ice bath. That there was the option to increase the locations for the dry ice, for a price.

"I have a proposition for you," I said.

"Yes, but you already owe me one facial and a serious fucking, but if you are good, I will spank you drain you like you have never been drained before," she said while licking her lips. "Jack always gets me so distracted, we never finished, but less figured in the extras on the prices. You know you are to show off this outfit and compete for in the SteamPunk and Mortician categories, and I get credit for the creation. Not that the prize money will pay the sales tax on all the toys you are wearing," she said sobering businesslike. I will need the Thermal Suit back at the end, that is not in the deal, as you don't want to know the cost.

"One more time with feeling, my proposition again. How much for the Thermal suit and to invest in the company?" I said in all seriousness.

"The thermal suit in its current configuration is five thousand dollars, with the extended cold packs and liquid nitrogen system, and support equipment is ten thousand and I don't think you have a cool half million to cover my debts much less buy into the equity.

She did not know about some of my exploits providing income once I got the hang of it, much less my investments.

"Do I need to look up the valuations or can you name a price? I can call my business friend Raven to get on it," I asked with the irritated tone of someone who has been told if you have to ask the price of a yacht you cannot afford it.

Raven as in their friend from BS&M out of Frisco," Taylor said as she nodded her head at the Brothers.

"YES!" I said with emphasis.

"50-50% with me keeping final say on design and company direction and philosophy, a silent partnership, was offered to the last suitor at 2.5 million cash deal," she said with a tired sound and body language of someone who has been beaten up by the finance negotiation process one time too many times.

"Tell you what. I will buy this suit with all the trimming right here right now, and a five-year warranty plus repair for cost of parts, if you can run the credit card from a different location as I don't want the finance people to know where I am playing right now," I said, as I reached for my wallet.

"What happens at HorrorCon stays at HorrorCon, provided you get my booth up, and finish helping me with my once a year cum slut games, which means you will get it up and off on my face and down my throat, now, and same time next year and anytime, I have to repair the suit," she said as she put her tongue in my ear. Which does have an effect on my dominant brain, which is not involved in speech.

I handed her the card and started setting up the BDSM, toys, and customs clothing booth adjacent to the Brother's Angry booth. the equipment was heavy but not too much to move, but for once, I actually felt like I was lifting some weight. The St. Andrew's Crosses are heavy as she has her collection made from real lumber and steel. That is where I meet her daughter who was all of twenty and fresh out of rehab again.

At 11 pm, Taylor and Moon explained that the Cross for use in the Brothers main suite needs to be taken upstairs and set up. At this point, my dry ice was out and Taylor was adding two more dry ice packets, and giving a safety lecture about the nitrogen dewar. I explained that I had been playing with dewars since before Kennedy was shot. Oh yea, I am that guy out of time, recognition, which allowed her to believe I was in her age group, though well preserved. My date of birth was over 70 years ago, but I wasn't going there if I wanted her to go down later, or sooner.

During our freight elevator ride to get the 500-pound cross up to the room, Taylor explained how she was jealous at my visual preservation, and she put two and two together as I who I was from my previously published books on the religious serial murders. Did I still have issues with the religious nutcases trying to kill, me, and how bad her menopause was going? A couple of ovulations a month, plus a daughter who is going through that now which caused her to get an instant opioid addiction, which is hard to treat when you get doubled over in pain, still want to have offspring so won't get the operation to remove everything and live on artificial hormones for life, with early osteoporosis, etc. Not to mention two women with a high sex drive living in alternating states of in HEAT, and there isn't enough lube on the planet to get a pencil in it, much less an erect penis. The situation for long-term personal relationships was not being helped by the fact that both mother and daughter were bigger than most NFL linemen, at over six feet and 250 pounds and most of which was not fat. Journal have I recently mentioned my pheromonal effect on putting a woman in the mood also can cause confessions and diarrhea of the mouth, as in everyone tells me way too much information.

Considering our relationship has started with more almost sex than most couples get in a year this was a bit much. Then I remembered she has been adjusting my clothing after I have been doing exercise, and thermal suit or not, I must be in extra high pheromonal chemical voluntary date rape fantasy drug production time. Which means with the noticeable increase in her pheromonal production which I was smelling I was going into my hyperspermia mode. I guess she and her daughter are both going to get the feeding they are begging to receive.

When we got to the room, Moon was waiting for the tools. "We are never going to get this up in time," she said to us.

"Yes, we will I am stronger than I look," I said.

"You do that then you can be the first to be drained, and fully serviced by a real mother-daughter team, and not one of the porn fakes, but the real deal," Moon said in full heat. As we just spent over an hour doing heavy lifting and sweaty work, I was not surprised. But I could smell both of them get excited and wet with that statement.

"I am the senior Dominatrix seductress in the house and this slave needs to cream-pie me first, and on command. Get it Up Now Slave," she said at me as the three sets of pheromonal reactions had these two in a combined seduction heat act and I was not unaffected.

I lifted the two heavy beams like they were nothing while the ladies attached the heavy bolts and hardware to hold them in place. Which placed both of their faces in my crotch. A bit of sexual innuendo joking later and visual wet spots later found myself strapped to the cross, while Taylor mounted me and Moon was stripping out of her work clothes and buck naked to start licking me and working her way to a rim job. As you can imagine at this point, the Brothers arrive with the entourage for the Midnight orgy. The extra audience, with all the woman starting to masturbate while the Brothers and a few of the husbands/escorts starting mounting the woman in an instant orgy, was the quickest start to the Midnight orgy in the history of this HorrorCon swinging groups memory.

Having a ten-times normal healing rate and recovery time, plus being in my version of pheromonal heat, as this a two-edged sword of a chemical weapon had me in hyperspermia, and blowing a load in Taylor for her demanded cream-pie. She begged for more as she could feel herself ovulate during our mutual orgasm. Being tied to a St. Andrew's or Catherine's Wheel in this configuration, with daughter Moon, sucking me clean and getting me hard again in the five minutes it took for me to be ready to blow again, did not give me a lot of options. The Brothers Angry were doing their feeble-minded spell routine again which left me a bit drunken but thinking. The rest of the room was just willing sex slaves. When mother Taylor was, a dripping collapsed mess at my feet. Daughter Moon dragged her aside, sucked me hard in two minutes flat and proceeding to get herself cream-pied three times before she was laying a cum dripping mess next to her mother.

James and Jack were on the phone with someone named Inferna telling her how they were busy undermining monogamous marriages and promoting mindless fornication, so she could report to their dark master that they were on mission.

They gave me a thumb up and three other women took turns getting a cream pie from me. While I heard, the Brothers working a team action on what sounded like willing volunteers, and them doing a lot of the command suck it clean. With my pheromonal presence and Jack feeble-minding, those who talked when they should suck, I cannot speak for how much anyone's higher brain functioning was in use.

Hearing this set of commands of suck it clean and rim me, from the brothers to their slaves, my possessive mother-daughter team became motivated to unstrapped me, and dragged me to my room to strip me and proceeded to lick every drop of sweat off of my body, while the other woman came in from time to time to give a cleaning cunnilingual experience. At about 3:30 when I was pausing for a quick snack of a box of protein bars, and some cola, the girls managed to get the door locked and we were alone. The Cross/Wheel and other toys were still in obvious use in the other room, so we should be alone for a while. Having two women take turns milking you off into the other woman's vagina, is worth remembering. Taylor passed out first, with daughter Moon losing consciousness, during a protracted unstopping orgasm. For the first twenty-five contractions that I counted, it was 1,2,3 slamming it home and her squeezing and twitching with a crying moan. When Moon was out, it was 1,2,3 slamming home to the cervix, a squeeze, involuntary squeak, for another twenty-two contractions from her vagina for me to be finally drained.

I stumbled to the shower for a rinse as we needed to put a slowdown on this. Hung up the clothes, check the setting on the dewar and such. I went to grab by my definition an instant snack, consisting of a jar of peanut butter. When I noticed that Talyor and Moon who both have large breast were lactating and leaking their milk. Taylor was half conscious, mumbles that both of them starting lactating since Moon finished puberty, but that the milk helps the neonatal unit at the hospital and the money has been good. Moon has been supporting herself as a nursemaid to pay her medical bills before she got her opium derivative addictions. Then she begged me to help her with the pain. By the time, I had finished my liquid snack and drained them temporarily dry. At this point, I passed out next to the women feeling mission accomplished at see them unconscious and dripping my donations from their well-fucked pussies on the sheets. The nice thing about going into hyperspermia mode is at 100 ml a shot I put about 700 ml into both of them. Which despite their menopausal issues are serious physical and mental specimens of humanity. Having to accept that I am the driven by the reproductive drive of being a member of a very small subspecies of human, it is my duty to my genes to get them out there. Not like I have a choice when there are so many females begging to be bred.

Six a.m. arrived all too fucking early in the morning. "Hey Dude, it is time to get up and get some food not to mention getting the pussy up and at it, we have booths to man in a couple of hours," Jack said, with James doing the chop chop get in motion hand gestures.

"They might get offended at being referred as pussy," I said quietly as I headed to the toilet for a serious morning piss, after pulling my penis out of Taylor's mouth that was busy sucking on it like a pacifier. Nice way to wake up, which doesn't really make up for seeing Zombie waiting on you to get moving at the door.

"They should still be in feebleminded, mode. If you move your ass fast enough, they will awaken and not know who fucked them into oblivion. Saves on paternity suits later. Can't do a test if they aren't sure who to test and with two guys plus the escorts for 15 other women, if any of them come up pregnant, unlikely as they all are on the pill or otherwise sterile as part of the swinging game, that is too many to test," James said rather smoothly. I could tell he liked this part of his evil duties.

I quickly got showered dressed and out of there, ordered five breakfast and make use of Jack's internet enabled pad to send a message via a safe channel to Raven to finish up the buying of the Thermal Suites, and armored mesh tailored suits by Taylor. The armor mesh is designed for micrometers, so will not stop the bullets dead but stop them with minimal penetration for vital areas, and directs them towards non-lethal locations. As a micrometer is much faster than a bullet, the technology is even better than small arms protection. The redirecting of the impact is a practical application as a micrometer impact could slam you hard enough to put you beyond returning to a space vehicle, as well as impractical for space velocities. Taylor's idea of redirecting to a recoverable injury seal the suit and get medical help was a practical alternative. As I heal 10 to 50 time normal depending on the situations, less than instant fatal was enough for a band aid so this was acceptable. With the Thermal Suit, I could be armored and comfortable, instead of too damn cold or melting, with never a moment in the middle.

Space technology seemed oddly correct considering me and mine have most likely been altered by another type of space technology, so time to embrace the horror as it were. I kill me sometimes as this is a HorrorCon.

Raven wrote back she thought I was out of my mind. I got her on a chat with John and explained the Thermal suit politely told Raven to shut up and do it. I have enough on my credit card to do it from here, without her input, but I would like the legal parts right to start with, and I am supposed to keep the three letter boys busy for how many weeks?

After being told no idea but they would send more cash and I am to stick to the Brother-like glue as if push comes to shove their benefactors would have to protect us all, and while not exactly friends were not lethal hostile towards each other. Just usually not the closest of buds, but then use earthly times have been buds for two centuries even if they have memory issues.

"Watch out on drinking with these guys, you might find yourself in an orgy or something with whom knows what kind of tail end things to deal with later," John said with all intended puns and implications. Like he is one to talk as has fucked anything in a skirt for 700 years and is only slowed down for a couple of decades as he has Raven to keep him serviced.

"They have little memory, other than thinking you owe them both a hot load," Jack said as he sat down and politely demanded coffee from the waitress.

"Rough morning?" I asked them and assuming he is talking about Taylor and Moon.

"Night never ended for us undead types and now we have a full day of looking like we are corrupting the world. Our mistress will be checking up on us later. You might even get a slap and tickle out of it. If you are unlucky, or lucky," James said tiredly.
Dear Journal I turn the tables and arrange an interrogation of some otherworldly beings.

After breakfast, I found myself manning the booth for the Brothers and covering the toy store booth. While the money is good, the upselling of autographed photos is disgusting to the booths of the newbie corner booths. The funny thing is the newbie corner has more booths with characters and vendors with more tenure than the old-timers. The old-timers are still on the ComicCon business model of selling photographs that have made certain sci-fi bit actors disliked and relegated to bit parts as no studio wants to take a risk that stain will follow them on a big money picture.

I cannot blame my playmates from last night as I have ten times the recovery rate of a normal person and I was feeling the muscle and friction burns in places. As this was Friday, and the HorrorCon doesn't get into full swing until about 10:30 or 11 am on Saturday, now what the time to hang loose and learn the game. Never know when a bit of knowledge will prove useful.

"Don't mention John, or anything with BS&M around the bitches from Hell, if they ask you are on loan to us from the toy booth and since we all showed up at the same time, the hotel put us in mutually joining suites. The girls are smart but not completely with it, on rules of modern human society," Jack said as he slid into the back of the booth behind the curtain.

I quickly jumped into the chairs of the toy booth nearest the Brother's booth to cover theirs from the other direction.

Not a moment too soon, as I saw Brother James bowing and scraping for four women who were actively berating him, on the way to the Brother's Booth. A six-foot-tall formidable bottle blond with dark roots, a red dress, and lace corset and the all-important big tits needed for this look. With a what did you fuck up and not tell me look on her face. The look is the same on you see permanently etched on a jailer's face when they are watching a prison yard of doing a body cavity search near the visitation room. I am assuming this sour puss is Inferna who reportedly has been in charge of the Brother's torture for the last two centuries and no promotion during that time.

Next to them was two other six-foot tallish women sporting body-mod horns, and expensive ones at that, who had the look of two competing sisters. The first would be described by a British person as having ginger hair with highlights. A black and purple dress and extensive tattoos on her sizeable left breast. She was politely smiling because she is not on the hook for anything but gets to kick some ass if someone is found out to have screwed up. Therefore, is happily awaiting the opportunity to kick someone when there are down and biding her time. I am assuming this to by Syn, who has an aura that lives up to the label. Truth in advertising is a good thing.

The other woman adjacent to James must be Ash, less than six feet but with the high heels is hard to tell. All in black, with an under supporting corset and a large lace brassiere covering overly augmented breast, a thin waistline, boudoir stockings, and undies one step from a thong that shows a fresh bikini waxing was working the room extra hard with the swing of her hips, and oh so sweetly telling James that he wasn't worthy to lick her feet much less a ball gag and pissing on that he deserves. A bit over the top on the put-down dominatrix routine if you ask me, but it is their theater, not mine. This has got to be Ash.

Last in a kind of tow, was someone looking more human, was a BBW dominatrix with whip and knee high vinyl boots, who was hanging back quietly until she saw the toy store. I could almost smell her excitement in seeing the custom shopping opportunity. With her reddish-brown hair and blue eyes, she was making her way towards me in a hurry. Morticians hat in place, I was in character.

We did the meet and greet while I showed her the caskets and body bags, as the first offering of sex toys. After all, I am a Mortician, it seemed the natural place to go with her, and to distance myself from the three women who did not smell exactly human. I have a highly developed sense of smell, not quite as good as a drug dog, but, I don't miss much.

"Never been into the Necrophilia thing myself," Torrid said with a dismissive air.

"I don't think it is a real thing, for the actual dead, yew, but more the confronting the fear of death and being totally helpless. Gathering a sense of power and control by embracing the horror of it all," I said as an opening come on towards a dominatrix on a buying spree.

"Confronting fear and submitting to actually be in control, now that is something I know a little about," she said sweetly to herself. While she was checking out the newest in autoerotic chocking leashes with the safety features. After a couple of notable accidents, choking leashes have been developed with memory metals and surfaces that require a good amount of active force to be applied. That way if you do pass out from the desired asphyxiation while you are mentally being preoccupied with your orgasm, it will allow air and blood to resume flowing. A cool high-tech version has a nitrous oxide feed, biomonitors, and positive air pressure to cycle off and on. Therefore, short of full on cardiac arrest will resuscitate you. We also have one with an AED, but putting on the shock pads has been shown to be a bit of a mood killer for the medium to casual autoerotic masturbation crowd.

I could smell Torrid's excitement as she looked at the leashes, collars, and whips. She kept fingering the safety leash collar. We have a money back/testing policy on non-gentile contact items, but if you break or stain it otherwise reduce the ability to sell it as new you bought it. As you are will the Brother's, you want to take it in the back of the tent or to your room for testing. The thought had she was almost ready to drip on the floor right there. I can also extend the merchants discount on the strap on and vibe you have been eyeing. But those are non-returnable, as you can understand, will that be cash or card?" I asked while bringing the charge machine towards her hand. Assuming the sale was an old trick I learned in while in university when I had to move a few used cars for party money.

"I cannot afford it, but how much for the heavy duty inlaid wood stocks with the spanking bench?" she asked in a voice one thrust away from a squirting orgasm into my ear while rubbing her very real breast against my hand. She had managed to get it to make contact, though I was trying to be gentlemen. I am working an S&M sex toy booth, and I haven't figured out this is the wrong crowd for prudish manners. A little slow would be how Roberta would describe me at times like this.

"$5,000 but it is already reserved for the Midnight Orgy. I believe you are the hostess," I said with a seductive tone in her ear. By now my chemistry was having its effect on the unaltered human, as he nipples were fully erect.

"Let me look it over and become familiar with it workings," she said with a husky voice and now visibly moist camel toe.

"Excellent idea, I will be right over here, when you are ready to check out, your minor purchases," I said, not letting my assumed sale off the hook. I smiled while withdrawing as she started pressing her crotch against the body of stocks. If there was someone to bet with, I would have put her down as less than 60 seconds from her first orgasm contraction of this visit.

This put me in a position to hear what was going on in the Brother's booth. Jack and James were trying to make the argument that while corrupting adults won't bring the police and church types down on them, trying to promote promiscuous behavior on an underage crowd and sexual repressiveness on the of age crowd was not going to fly any better in New Jersey than the failures they experienced in Nebraska. I realize that these two believe they are level four zombies rebuilt by the devil, but I am working on the theory that non-human aliens, which would include demons, but I am thinking UFO type, have taken to using these poor bastards as eternal slaves to try to create social issues that are beneficial to that species of UFO alien's agenda. I am also getting the impression from Inferna, that when these guys were recruited for their moral quality, the demon/aliens did not realize that they were Monks, just not very good Monks even by the standards of their very questionable monetary that was in the business of creating alcoholism. I mean customer demand for their fortified liquor products. I am not sure if Inferna recruited these guys, but she has these immortal and rather immoral Monks to attend to as her damnation.

"Hey, we have our hooks into the masturbation webcam service, we will show the young ones how to bypass the age verification, and just think of all the politician that we will bring down who will be watching our little darlings. Especially the bi-curious ones. A little time with use and we create havoc along the East coast. Hell, our poster boy of righteous denial has made it to the top. When he falls, it will be glorious with upgrade horns for everyone," Ash said with too much satisfaction.

"No, no, no, stay away from anything near the legal age even if it is over the age of consent. The last thing the boss will want is the human law taking a hard look at us," Jack pleaded.

"Let us stick with our corruption of the swinging crowd, they are easier to recruit and will spread the word. Also, they will not bust us out to the cops, as that would mean confessing their sins," James added with a bit more smoothness.

I half listened to the rest of the debate as large pre-paid customer group arrived to pick up their order.

"We are here to pick up the Manga order," said the small effeminate T-girl of the group.

"Is that the snarking gang, one?" I asked trying to be low key.

"It is the gang rape snarking gang bang the little T-girl, the snarking gang is the two actors category, we are in the six and larger category," said the T-girl.

"I was trying to keep it short as some people are offended by the gang rape of small helpless people, myself being among those offended. This is a business, and we need to make it clear that this is all just cosplay," I said trying to walk the legal line and not puke on them. I never could really get into anything looking like a real rape role play. Which is a lot different from 'please no don't stop'," seduction joke, with the punchline of 'I said, Please, No, Don't, Stop!'

"Fair enough, sorry, a bit testy had to wear straight close coming in, and feeling stifled," T-girl said, with her entourage of seven very youthful looking males. As, I looked and smelled they all have had a lot of peeling waxing and hormone treatments, but still human, bi-sexual or metrosexual at best. Not my crowd, but I had an idea. Got to go with luck and what comes your way.

"You have a lot of money tied up in this performance. If you win, you might break even," I suggested.

"First place still has us down a couple of thousand, but the number of times we get to perform gets us off, and we are bringing awareness to the true violation that snarking and rape is to the victim. With all the kids, here, we want to make an object lesson they will not forget," the tallest and thinnest of the snarking rapist actor boys said.

"Thin line to walk, it could go all sideways. How about I get you onstage, let you role play it all out as disgusting as you like, with everyone knowing it is just fantasy and cut the price in half? But wait there is more. You all look like you are somewhat adventurous (a polite way of comparing sexually twisted to missionary straight as a corkscrew can be substituted for a straight nail). Would you be willing to help four bi-sexual women I know do a role-playing game of their own in private? Remember, happens at the hotel at HorrorCon stays in the room of the hotel at HorrorCon," I said.

"They cannot be kinkier than we are," said the T-girl with confidence as she showed that her male anatomy was of a size to make a horse blush as the equipment reached to her knee.

"If you still think you are kinkier than the Four Bitches from Hell I have lined up after this is over I will refund the other half of the money," I said. While I did not check, I suspect that I got half an erection out of all them at that moment.

They mumbled with themselves and I then pointed out that Torrid who was still rubbing up against stocks and sucking on the knob (penis head looking protrusion) on the whip she was buying, was one of the Four Bitches from Hell it was unanimously agreed.

I pointed them at their cosplay costumes and went next door to finish bailing the Brothers out.

"Jack, James, we have some opening ceremony items to clear up," I said loud enough to interrupt their moral debate, which wasn't going anywhere as the three demons don't have any, without them knowing that I know.

Jack trotted over in a hurry and said, "Dude this is a bad time. The Mistresses are up to bad, and it is looking bad for all of us." I quickly explained that if we can get the rape gang on stage to do a public service spot, as part of Ash and Syn's plot to corrupt the world, I can get the girls to be occupied as these boys will need her personal ministering and instructions on how to do anything outside of cosplay sex, which should keep them out of the way for the day. While we come up with something more permanent. "It has got to look like it is the girls' fault, or we will be back in Omaha or the pit and you will be on your own. Not to mention I don't want to go back to the pit," Jack said with a desperate tone.

"Anything else I should know about the demon girls?" I asked

"They are a bit stronger than your average professional football player and therefore can go for hours on sex so if your plan is to outlast them, you better bring a half dozen friends and they love their alcohol, nicotine, and weed really knocks them for a loop. It was their idea to make it illegal since they kept accidently getting contact highs from the artistic types they were corrupting for the purpose of leading to early deaths. The love the THC way too much, makes them helpless cum sluts on a light dose and anything heavy they may try to do the entire Marine Corps and every Nun on in the country in one afternoon," Jack said quickly.

I went back to the rape gang boys and told them they were good to go. I could smell one of them had enough vials of liquid concentrated THC to be considered dealing in Ecuador, much less New Jersey, I let him know that the demon girls would rock his world beyond his kinkiest fantasies if he slipped them some. That their whole act has them to start as the poor helpless victim who was just doing some cosplay pseudo-innocent act before they would switch over to cum slut, trying to be a shop vacuum. He said something about the price and he was to deliver it to a paying customer. Five portraits of a famous scientist latter, he was more than happy to confine his distribution to the four ladies in a cosplay format of secretly rubbing it into their skins with other fragrance oils. This caper was getting expensive as the illegal weed oil was cheaper than the legal fragrance oils. It was a good thing I was buying out half of Taylor's company because her stuff was overly priced expensive. No wonder she was going out of business, but at these prices, you cannot afford to have anything in warehouse stock accruing interest charges and depreciation.

James came over with Jack's computer pad which had Raven on the chat program. The call was for me, and she was pissed. I better be right, about this investment, and if I could get some tissue samples, and interrogate the demons all might be forgotten. Recordings of their native language, and any mention of their long-term plans hierarchy etc. would be worth the money if I was wrong about the business part of this deal.

Stoner boy was already getting Torrid high as a kite, and she was shopping with T-girl for pegging toys and supplies. I hope someone besides me was paying for the collection of unreturnable items, and a mid-range automobile had the same monetary value at this point.

Taylor and Moon arrived at this point. Hobbled in would be more accurate as they were in their cosplay outfits, the camel toes showed swelling and they moved stiffly. Their breast seemed to be back to nearly full of milk. Better than a jar of peanut butter in the middle of the night, but during the daytime, I needed a couple of steaks.

Taylor and I had a quick chat about she was the senior partner, and I would be covering the huge amount of money in merchandise the rapist boys degenerates were playing with if they could not cover the bill. She also told me that she still expects to be fed my special sauce since I stole all her milk. As soon as the back of the toy tent was clear, she explained the expectation of delivery time too. She then checked the heat levels battery and nitrogen and dry ice levels. At this point, Moon arrived to show me how to make spooky mist on demand to go with the cosplay expectation of the Mortician. It also had a remote app for smartphones to control if I wanted help with the effect when I am on stage, and I also owe her for my middle of the night snack, and thank you as they would have hurt like hell by morning, as she has to pump them out every four hours whether the neonatal unit needs the milk or not. The new artificial stuff was almost as good and more consistent with supply and demand that being a wet-nurse was a dying business. Especially as there are also a lot of free volunteers.

The demon girls have been introduced to their young impressionable soon to be corrupted victims. I suspected that a couple of them, especially T-girl has more mileage on their colons and sucked more pipe than the combined efforts of the Amsterdam brothel industry cumulative total. But as the boys were playing their parts to perfection and I suspect the demon girls were so stoned at this point they thought their anus was one and the same as Uranus.

"James, how are the mistress of mayhem fixed on money? They have some expensive taste and already have created a purchase of tens of thousands of dollars of materials plus want to try before they buy even more money. You are bailing me out of a jam, but?" I asked as James interrupted.

"Money is money and the bitches of busting my balls, oh they hurt, two direct shots, have more gold than I have pain right now, and I have a lot of pain. Just make them sign the check, please, send it to Inferna and she will take care of the bill. Don't forget the dealer discount," James said with a lot of discomfort as headed back to his booth while adjusting his abused self.

I passed the information onto Moon that Inferna or one of them has plenty of money and to just let her know to pay. Next thing I know Taylor is finishing the billing, while Moon is having two of the demon girls drain her breast for her to the delight of the audience in the back. Even T-girl was squeezing a drop out for a return of the flavor favor.

"I was getting a little worried that the bill part of this was going to pooch the deal, I said to Jack.

"Why is that? I haven't seen them this stoned since the Rolling Stones played Omaha. They never did forgive the girls for getting them arrested, either, never came back," Jack said.

"How much money do they have and would overspending get them in trouble that benefits you later?" I asked very slyly. I think Jack and James would have twisted one off then and there at the idea that their Mistresses could get into that much trouble if there wasn't an audience; and they didn't have to be in character and in their HorrorCon mode and not post sexual glow mode.

At this point, I arranged for each one of the three girls with the demon credit card account to buy 50% of our stock with the back-order stuff to be delivered later. That way we could sell the stuff on the site again and empty the all too full warehouse that the senior partner had. Raven was so going to have to advise Taylor on streamlining supply and demand, large warehousing was so 1960s and trust me I am dated and still playing catch up.

While everyone did their cosplay and public service projects to show that snarking, raping, and other forms of abuse and treating others as different and or as a piece of sexual meat was unacceptable outside of mutually agreed upon cosplay situations, I was upstairs setting up cameras, and building a dungeon in the three rented suites. Moon, arranged for me to have the one adjacent to her and her mother's suites upstairs, as a little distance would be good right about now. We were sure the cops would be eventually part of this show and this was only Fri-dull, warm up to work out the kinks Day, of HorrorCon.

While I was setting up the dungeon I did my best to feed the girls what they craved. By two pm I was in the restaurant, watching the streaming sex show of three demons servicing the train of non-stop sexual penetrations and humiliations, complete with confessions, begging bragging, and occasion talking in tongues to each other. John and Raven were watching and recording online and were very impressed with the amount of useable data. The Brothers and I had a few chats which were recorded about the hierarchy of hell as they understood things.

I meet the YWCA ladies who were manning a booth for donations, and yes, all the merchants were donating 10% to the good causes. With half a million dollars in confirmed sales. All in thanks to the soon to have their ass in more of a jam than their current gang bang with 8 kinky actors at a swinger's convention worth of hard dicks (about 20 on a slow Friday early afternoon) looking for a free and willing piece of ass could get into, for spending a lot of money on the girl's purchases. The YWCA was very grateful for the donation, which was now all in the hands of credit card companies, banks and other merciful agents of commerce. Even the servants of Hell were not getting out of this bill, which already cleared the debit cards. No refunds on merchant discount cash equivalent purchases. I am thinking it will be best if they never find out the exploitation of the female form that was involved.

The Brothers stopped by now and then to check on their safety and the girls gave the safety word that they were happy and willing participants. Dropped a few leading questions for the girls to start their recorded attempts to seduce what they think are underage minors into a life of debauchery. The horse-dicked Tranny girl was especially good at eliciting damning statements. If any of these recordings got to the police, they demon girls would have to go and hide in the pit for a long time, which would make the Brothers happy.

I must say, Ash, taking a strap-on from Inferna while getting spit roasted by two real ones for the all holes are filled show, while confined in the stocks, was better than the BDSM porn I had seen for free online. When the boys were finally done, she was legitimately begging another three of the swinger men to mount her. Syn was demanding servicing from the women, with Torrid alternating between using a strap-on and making Syn lick her to squirt and suck her dry.

By this time, I was sitting back at the booths covering and having a triple set of burgers delivered. When one young lady looking 20 something, but smelling teen something to my nose, asked how long her friend was going to be away? Apparently, one or more of the rapist snarking boys was her friend. She had expected to be taking her turn in the cosplay performances throughout the day, as lunch had been promised. Since I had screwed up her deal, I offered a burger and asked the attendants who keeps the merchants in food and drink to get a lot more food. Amazing what food will get you for information and offers. Someone was really wanting a toy but for some reason could never obtain one and was settling for hair brush handles and longing for something more. The breed them all and let nature sort out the Darwinian mess was almost interested, but my base instincts are driven, a biological need and even that has limits. Jack and I talked with her some more about the nature of horror films and how they are an artificial and safe way to confront one's fears. That in the real world you call friends and get help.

I am not sure if it was James of Jack who eventually put together that her ID that says 20, was her older cousin, and she was living on the streets as much as she can to avoid incest at home. After the huge donation made that day from the toy booth, you would not be surprised how fast the call to help an abused girl was answered. For a couple of minions of demons, these two zombies are not bad guys.

"When Inferna gets back, we are in a lot of trouble if they find out we not only let one get away, and we arranged for the get-a-way car," Jack said.

About the time, you think it cannot get worse, it does. "James Grey keep your hands where I can see them," said the uniform and badge behind me. Not being stupid I followed directions. James and Jack were also being very obedient, thought the Brothers who may be my favorite con men and zombie friends, were quick on their mental feet.

"Officer, the legend of James Grey is part of the Steampunk cosplay and our actor friend here is one of the leading contenders. Mind you the last photographs of James Grey are over ten years old, and looks more like James Grey than James Grey, but does he really look like his 70 plus years old pretending to be 35 looking.?" Jack said with the cool calm of an experienced con man.

Moon without missing a cue came over to fawn on me. "Easy on the makeup until after the contest then you can climb on me all you want," I said getting into character.

"Nice try, but the YWCA called in the molestation rescue as they needed someone to pick up the alleged abuser, and the FEDS call you a person of interest," the policewoman said.

I just needed to buy enough time to see if she would become a little less rigid ala my chemistry. "Do you know how many three letter agency badges are descending on this place as we speak?" she asked.

"Well, this is going to be difficult. What about the fourteen other James Greys running around this room at this time?" I asked. Brother James is smoother under pressure than Jack and having a microphone called for all the James Grey cosplay participants to assemble, as well as any female vampires, all zombies, and slave girls for a miniature prize giveaway contest. Having bought some time while the James Greys assembled all of which had fake ID, some of it good enough to get you drinks good, all claiming to be James Grey, I lost the contest for the $100 gift certificate to a woman based on the crowd's reaction. I think Moon, Taylor, and James might have rigged the voting as Moon and Taylor did a lot of breast cupping action at the right times to cause the girl version of me to get the vote for the gift certificate from the toy store. Though as runner-up, I did win something called a fleshlight. I am not sure what that is, but I don't think it is a flashlight.

At this point, the officer was doing some fast talking on a cell phone, about confusion as the rules of the HorrorCon have everyone in cosplay claiming to be their character and part of the contest is not breaking character. That the information crediting James Grey with the donation to the YWCA might be that of a cosplay character and not necessarily the person of interest. She was brighter than I expected for a non-ranked street officer, in that she asked what legal effect and level of support is to be given to a label of a person of interest, by a non-law enforcement federal agency.

But we did have a consolation prize as a couple of the boys and a couple of the swingers came down to express their concerns that they think the demon girls are really trying to seduce underage participants into immoral and illegal acts. During this time, I was translocated before any three letter types with the ability to check my identity could get near me, while words like The MAN ACT and attempts at statutory rape, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, pedophilia was being debated by a lot of heavy badges with real guns, in the direction of the hotel elevators leading to the rooms, where my video showed the girls demonstrating how to masturbate on the webcam and pretend to be underage or fool the age checking process with pre-paid credit cards and such. Considering that demonstrators all looked 35 to 40 trying to pass as 25, I wasn't buying the show.

The Brothers Jack & James and I were having a very expensive bottle of liquor in the hotel's gourmet dining room as we hide in plain sight waving to the police as they dragged three of the four very unhappy females down with nothing left to the imagination on their bodies in multiple sets of flex cuffs, Tasers, polled cable restraints, like you use on vicious animals to keep from getting bitten were in play on three of them. The fourth Torrid was on a gurney stoned into another realm of reality. We and the twenty other sets of Brothers Angry were just sat there being a part of the crowd watching the show from the restaurant on a now crowded Friday night. It took three hours stop the orgy and subdue the girls. I am betting I have a lot of broken paid-in-full adult toys to collect to ship to BS&M for the physical sampling of genetic materials and other samples.

Jack and James were doing their best, what do you expect me to do, we are public celebrities and cannot bust you out of a fight with half Jersey state police, and they are unpaid helpers volunteering for the sake of art, look.

"Do you think they will call for you to try to get them bail?" I asked.

"THC takes three times as long to wear off a demon as a human, they will be drugged out and helpless until after the weekend. In the meantime, don't admit they are our Inferna, Ash, Syn and Torrid until someone can prove who they are. There are a lot of everyone here at HorrorCon, enjoy the anonymity.

You do know the bad news," Jack said.

How can you think anything is going to be bad?" James said incredulously.

"The midnight orgy room is probably covered in crime scene tape," Jack said.

"I got my own suite one floor up, when their party started," I replied.

Jack's smile was big enough that it might have done him damage if he was still fully human.

At this point, Egor Blasphemy, another horror host from Texas with an international following arrived. Naturally, we had room at the table for a friend of my zombie tablemates, or whatever. Jack and James were having a great laugh about some of his favorite artwork and pictures. The one about, "No matter how big your house is, how recent your car is, or how big your bank account is. Our graves will always be the same size. Stay humble." was generating the laughter. A good introduction as far as I am concerned, and a nice touch of realism. Egor made all the appropriate sounds about it not being necessary to buy dinner until we showed him we had a coupon, so it was free.

It was easy to see how this very human person had worked his show into an international audience while my two zombies with extra abilities, were only a regional or national talent. Then he was on a social issue soap box, while the brothers were about having some fun with the schlock put out in the name of horror entertainment, and bump and grind jokes with their attractive female co-host. Then they do work for the demon girls who purportedly answer to the pit which does put them at a handicap.

Egor did very accurately point out and discuss at the dinner table without ruining anyone's appetite the top 1% problem. I think I got the quote correct thanks to my phone's habit of recording everything, "I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God, damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war. Our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off."

Now he is speaking for a different generation than where I came from, but, it was not all that far from some of the feelings we had in the 60s, we had the Cold War against the Communist, and Vietnam wasn't exactly giving the moral high ground we allegedly went there to claim. Then finding out 40 some years later that the Gulf of Tonkin incident was incorrect and the North Vietnamese didn't do it, kind of takes the wind out of one's sails on the value of what we were trying to defend.

The dichotomy between the TV host who pushed exploitation, grindhouse, and horror and a liberal social and political stance was interesting. Listening to the dialog as I am in observation mode, not knowing the man, being a mere cosplay participant, is a nice way to stay out of a nasty conversation. I think he might be one of the 'sane' Satanist, who argue that it the labels of good and evil are name calling, and marketing and that is about actions. Normally this is where I find a reason to get off the social bus, but discussion about why are the first of the ten commandments about whom to worship first then, getting to human behavior is not new, but some people sell it better than others. The other is that there is more than one set of gods out there, which now puts him in my UFO alien's competition for control of the world. Then affirmative statements about not hurting animals except as part of making lunch, and whatever you do, never let a child come to harm, was a good argument for me to listen to the end and even order a few cold drinks. How can anyone think protecting children is a bad thing?

The discussion did shift for a while into all the nasty and some could even call it evil, things that have been done in the name of religion, with almost all them having some dirty laundry. It is also hard to argue that killing in the name of God, as a way of promoting love and peace doesn't pass the smell test of hypocrisy and bullshit.

I am also guessing he is not overly thrilled with the political shift of trying to control free speech, but then he is in the free speech business. The brothers waxed on and on about how this is the same sort of arguments that lead to the revolution, though the freedom of religion part would not have provided protection for anyone not worshiping the God of Abraham in one form or another.

After promising we would keep in touch and try to get together for round two, next weekend, he was off to chase his wife, Satanas Blasphemy, who I am told is an outstanding artist in the horror genre. Hard to object to cutting a sex, religion and politics conversation short, which is usually the fastest route to a gunfight, to go and chase your spouse, as a bad thing.

A long conversation does give food time to digest, so I am going to have some dessert before heading up to bed. James was talking about the midnight orgy, I am hoping for a short nap first.
Dear Journal, no good deed goes unpunished. Now to get the demon girls out.

Cell phones are a mixed blessing. There needs to be a way to make it so they do not Cell phones are a mixed blessing. There needs to be a way to make it so they do not interrupt dessert. A hot fudge Sunday with lots of whipped cream should not be interrupted with an internet call to have to do something unpleasant. John needs us to get physical possession of the Mistresses of Mayhem before the government gets any real data on them. So, go and get them, then deliver them to John's friends, and do so without the demon girls knowing that they have been studied and such. "Would you like fries with that," I said as the call ended.

"He is right, but it would have been nice to let them sweat a while, but the science has gotten advanced enough we really cannot leave them there for the Boys in Black to play with," Jack said with frustration.

"If all of this saw the light of day, pawns from different sides of a twelve-way game of chess are teaming up for mutual support," James said.

"Well friends come and go, and enemies accumulate," I replied.

"John would be our oldest non-demonic friend," Jack answered.

"Brother Jack, part of the definition is the demons are not your friends. James and John may be our only friends if you don't count Torrid. Does one count one's dominatrix as a friend or does that count as medical servicing," James replied.

"I guess you can be friends with your dental hygienist, but if you only see them for business and no other time, it is usually just business," I added.

"Once a year sexual partners? Naw, not looking good, James, we need to expand our social interactions," Jack said.

"Well we are consigned to hell, so it should be expected that some parts of our undead existence are less than ideal," James quipped.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked.

"Not a clue, first we need to find out," Jack started to say.

"I will go and ask the hotel which hospital they got hauled to on the way to jail," James said.

"Try not to get us evicted," Jack answered.

"Look fans from the floor, who knew they were more psycho than the normal. They did know we rented it as the love shack. Charged extra so, part of the deal," James said.

"If you get in a Jam, let me know and I will be up for the Whammy," Jack said as his parting shot as we headed to the floor to get Taylor to cover for a bit longer and see if we got an inspiration on the way. We hit the main floor, and all I saw was dozens of Brother's Angry and Mistresses of Mayhem all over the place.

"I have an idea. By the way outside of THC sensitivity, didn't you say something about nicotine having a different effect?" I asked.

"Yes, it is always a heavy hit, but it wears off all too quickly, but lung cancer is not an issue for demons and undead. If this was a smoking venue, I would not have to carry twenty boxes of patches to deal with my cravings," Jack said.

"Are the girls patched up, or do they not smoke?" I asked. How to keep them in line was an issue, and an idea is forming.

"Demons are not physically addicted they just like it a lot, so no patches. Why?" Jack replied.

"Between the THC and nicotine, I am hoping to keep them compliant during more sensitive moments in this transaction. It is not like they are cooperative, or we wouldn't have this problem,": I said.

"It is why they are called demon bitches," Jack said.

"Can you cause an allergic reaction in humans? We need a distraction. How much nicotine do you have with you, or do we need to make a store run," I said.

"Hmmm four, four-ounce bottles of Cannabis extract and two four ounce bottles and six boxes of stage one patches of nicotine," Jack said as he felt under his robes. Mental image not needed, but, a lot of chemistry. I paid how much, for an ounce or so to get them stoned and he has enough to get us life in jail casually in his robes.

"I can do a couple of things, what are you looking for?" Jack asked.

"Latex allergy, or something similar just this side of anaphylactic shock but enough that convincing a group of the Mistresses of Mayhem that they need to let us help them to the hospital for a bit of confusion and distraction while we work on how to bust them out," I said.

Jack went to work, and I stopped by the toy booth said hello and get a multi-tool, nail punch, rock hammer (handy but no idea why it is in this toolbox for building S&M toys) and bastard file. Checked my hidden guns were ready for action, and a couple of knives were handy and without any fingerprints on them. Gloves on, and ready to work. The Morticians costume has a few other perks as a cover. Full up on dry ice and nitrogen. Even have the control button for the special effect of almost instant fog mist effect, if I need a short-term distraction or magic trick effect. There is even a smoke generator gun in this outfit. Glycerin bottle is full, so can fill a room with smoke and mist in a short amount of time.

Not sure if it is useful, but cannot hurt to have a trick or two. Bullet resistant strong fast and temperature control present, so I can go full out without overheating and won't get chilled in the winter. While I like it hot, like all primates if I get too hot, I lose strength and endurance. A thermal suit allows someone to run at 100% for hours with calories and oxygen being the limiting reactions, thought he lactic acid build up later can be a bitch. But even that is reduced by not getting overheated.

James arrived on cue and in a few minutes later we had four sets of Brothers and Mistresses of Mayhem sets half a step from anaphylactic shock. See what happens when you sneak food into the HorrorCon and not pony up for the overpriced crap they sell at these conventions.

Jack handed me a "burner phone" and a magnetic electronic shield bag, like you, get when you buy computer chips and said, "Put any electronics you like to keep in the bag, use the burner and headset to stay in touch,"

"I hope the controls on this Morticians suit are shielded. I take it you have a magic trick that does a number on electronics," I said.

"Did you think all of our BLING was for show," James said. I am thinking alien tech and John will want some later. But that is later, this is now, so we roll.

James, Jack and I helped the stricken make their way to the front of the hotel with the on-site medical helping and debating the use of epinephrine auto-injectors, as it looks serious but not over the line requiring a shot.

The shuttle bus driver for the hotel and front desk manager were trying to say get an ambulance, but with the numbers, we needed the bus right now. The command voice one learns as pilot and command officer does motivate people to get moving if used properly on the correct people. Two blocks later we were at the county hospital where they have the jail and psycho wards.

A quick survey of the place showed that the lab was on the fifth floor, so any sample should be there, complete with corrections officer guards on the county jail and mental health ward. The lab doors are on the inside of the security layer. The emergency room has multiple sets of all the players all on gurneys and lots of drama. You think HorrorCon cosplay participants are drama queens when at the Con, you have got to see them in the hospital to get the full effect. The nurses were semi-bored, but not liking the volume, which was making things interesting. The three letter agency types had a couple people still in the emergency room area.

James was at the hotel covering things there, while Jack was controlling the communications on the conference call, as Jack and I have our hands full.

"Well as near as I can figure all the access points inside the hospital are passed armored doors so doing feeble minded Jedi mind trick stuff isn't going to get people to open the doors, as they are controlled from the inside.

At Jack's end of the world, he could hear Inferna and Torrid telling the three-letter agency person to go fuck themselves. Something about them busting in on their sex party attacking them while they were in the stocks causing the glass dildos and butt plugs to get broken off in them and how they are going to so fucking sue them. Even the doctor was telling the badge heavy types to shut up and interrogate them after he has removed all the glass from the girl's pussy and ass. That everyone can debate acceptable sexual fantasy storylines and such later, but that if the man did not give the women their privacy and get out of her way, or she was going to insert this broken glass sex toys up their asses without lube. The hospital security guards did not care about the federal badges but did want the doctor happy. The local cops are asking why did a voluntary gang bang need a SWAT team. I am thinking there is so much confusion here, that this just might work.

I asked James if he could pull up and plans for the building on the internet or something. He less than politely explained that was TV and movie Bull Shit. What I see is what I get. Walking outside to look around and see if any inspiration comes to mind. Locating the jail wing and which window goes with the lab behind the locked fire doors, an insane idea comes to mind. Putting my coat into cloak mode so I have a cowl over my head to hide from easier identification. Putting on my balaclava, ski mask thing and put my cloak up, I am in full cat burglar mode. Having ten times normal strength gives me a few options that the security people would not have defended against.

Using the nail punch and rock hammer I worked the sharp end into the mortar of the bricks to pull myself up half and arm length at a time. It felt like forever, but that is from my point of view. This is not how I envisioned spending my Friday night. Even with my special extra heavy think outfit and thermal suit, every not and then a cold breeze works its way up the sleeve of down the collar of my shirts. Jersey during a Nor'easter storm really blows, or the wind does. The freezing icy rain is about as miserably cold as it gets. I do love this thermal suit. The battery good is and is cooling mode as I am working up some heat dead lifting myself up the building. The sixth floor is farther than it looks from the ground when you are climbing.

Naturally, the damn window was fully sealed and locked up as it should be. I hate it when my opposition is not incompetent. Then it is so cold out, it may be Darwinism by just keeping the window closed because it is fucking cold out in the middle of winter. Jamming the nail punch securely into the mortar, I had a place to stand. I was also now appreciating the pilots or Texas style catheter as all that climbing will make you want to piss like a racehorse.

The damn building was built with smooth walls, hard concrete bricks, and good mortar. Whoever says the government buildings are poorly built has not seen this concrete armored behemoth. Working the file and hammer end on the mortar it I eventually was able to cut enough of an area free that I can pull out a section of wall. It helps to be ten times stronger than normal, and able to grind out the mortar as fast as a power tool. It was a long hour of hard work. Pulling out the section a brick sized section at a time, I was able to see where the camera was. A bit of smoke and fog later I was able to get to the camera and point it where it cannot see me. No alarms, that I can detect. I retrieved the nail punch from the perch point outside. Keep evidence to a minimum and might need it again. Jack was creating confusion, so when the time came getting the two downstairs free, it would be easier. Periodic episodes of feeble-mindedness have everyone in a state of confusion was frustrating any efforts to calm order on the ground floor.

James is guessing that the demonic sisters are in the psycho or jail ward as they did not have anything broken off in their ass. More the shame was the sentiment from the Brothers and they both would love to break it off in their asses. I found the blood samples which had not been processed, along with about twenty drunk driving samples. Picked all of them and put them in a container designed for transporting this kind of biological materials safety. Jack has worked himself up to the sixth-floor security door and was getting the attention of the guard, so when I opened the lab door behind her, she never knew what happened from the rabbit punch. Thirty seconds later she was flex cuffed and had one of her socks stuffed in her mouth. James has suggested a different clothing item. Jack vetoed it for time reasons, saving me the need to vote on this bad idea.

A moment later we found the room where the screaming bitches from hell were strapped to gurneys were being held. The nurse at her station around the corner was happily ignoring them, and just making notes on the psychotic behavior. Opening the door, I spot the camera pointed inward from the door so I can move the camera to look elsewhere without having to be seen. The girls were still in their fuck-me clothes, and strapped face down, spread eagle and held as helpless as it can be done on a gurney. Considering the show, we saw at the hotel on the way out, it was for the police and medical personals safety, not the kinky factor.

I looked back at Jack, who was at the nurse's station, picking up all the records on the girls and leaving the nurse with a blank look on her unconscious face as she was now tied to her workstation with what I assume was the other clothing item being used as mouth gag with hosiery tied around it to hold it in place.

Jack got somewhat of a thrill as he pouring enough cannibals extract to be a lethal overdose for a human into their anal cavity and covered their asses with liquid nicotine, and a few time-released patches for good measure. A few second later the screaming and bitching became the happily stoned sounds, with a chaser of higher than a kite on the nicotine pleasure moans. Who would have thought that these two would be cooing and giggling?

Covering with a couple of layers of blankets over the head like a corps, as well as hiding that they are gagged.

Bolder than a politician looking straight at a camera telling everyone that they are the liars, we wheeled them into the emergency room area and parked them behind the nurse's station while Jack befuddled them all. Being very strong, it did not take long to swap out some innocent cosplay girls for Inferna and Torrid. As both were already unconscious for the final process of removing a glass dildo from their privates. I hurt thinking about it. It was easy enough to substitute two of our distractions. Taking out the cameras and having Jack blow the computer system, we should have removed all the records of what happened. I will have to see if I can get some of Jack's magic jeweler at some point. As the girls, had not been fully booked, there wasn't any fingerprints or photographs that are truly identifiable. What they had was with the evidence box I have on Syn's gurney. Inferna got the same treatment as the devil sisters including the anal insertion. Jack as the thing about giving them anal treatment. A lot of unresolved issues in this twisted mess. I collected the names and phone numbers of all the badge carrying people in the emergency room. Not sure but intel is intel, and when Jack gets about 50 yards away, the fog should clear, so we put those two with the first two and pushed our purloined gurney's the two blocks to the hotel. We left the gurneys in the old-timer's section of the HorrorCon which was in full after hours' party mode.

James had a full party going in the rooms, as in all the confusion even the hotel forgot they were less than happy with a SWAT team visit. It does help that the floor was all rented by swingers group.

We placed the demonic girls in my room upstairs, and poor passed out Torrid was in the tub so she could clean up when she woke up. Fortunately, the doctor got the foreign objects out without her getting cut up. Don't know or care about the demon girls.

However, before John could have temporary use of the Mistresses of Mayhem, The Brother's had a price to extract.

John had arrived in person to transport the little pains in the ass, get his data, and then deposit them back in Omaha so when they recovered from the drug cocktail, they could have the joyous occasion of the ultimate morning after a drugged and alcohol induced blackout nightmare, of what happened and what did I do. Though their physical conditions and the state of their clothes and hair should suggest it was more than just too much party. It is not like they can call the police and say we escaped from the New Jersey hospital before they could identify us, and stole all the records, assaulted several people," he said with a dry humor tone.

John and I had a quick snack in the all-night café in the hotel. During our second steak and eggs dinner, I had to ask, "What are the packaging instructions for the demon girls?"

"Put them on the beds, nice and safe. Leaving them in their current and rather sexually fouled clothing, though James wants a can a spray whipped cream inserted and squirted into their anal and vaginal cavities, so they wake up with their underwear on and all sticky from the sweet leaky mess and smells and feel of dried sexual, whatever.

"A little payback on the part of the Brothers. How much do we know, that we didn't know before, and how long do I have to keep playing decoy?" I asked.

"Hazmat suit is what I am thinking for handling the demon bitches. I should never have introduced the Brothers to the lubricating uses for butter back in the 18th century. Then, they did have good rum and can be counted on to have your back. It isn't like we haven't had to return used whores to where they belong before," John said in a tone of remembrance.

"What do we have on our hands, besides some really kinky X-rated shit? Also, how long am I on the run? Sleeping in my own bed would be a nice change, I re-asked.

"We have at best two altered humans Jack and James, three differently altered female humans, though until we get genome analysis, don't quote me on that. You need to keep everyone in innocent play for a couple more weeks. The funny thing is playing yourself in cosplay builds the whole case you weren't even hiding just playing along with some old friends," John said. We discussed the thermal suit and micrometer clothing acquisition until about 1 a.m., which makes this Saturday. Taylor has already arranged for a slightly less stylized version of my outfit to be delivered next week for John. Taylor also has an upgrade on the nitrogen dewar so they are mounted inside cargo pants pockets instead of the steam-punk clipped on boots or belts. Liquid nitrogen has a lot of cool uses.

I went to the Brother's party room to find that there were three boxes on wheels. Torrid was up and at it, though looking seriously stoned.

"Good people it is the time we have all waited so long for. Our chance in exchange for a donation to help the sexual abused and exploited treatment services so needed in our society. In exchange for your most generous donations, you get to punish our volunteers for their crimes. As the Mistresses of Mayhem, they have done so many vile and disgusting things. But today, they suggested that not only should the youth engage in the normal behavior of masturbation, they should bypass the age restrictions and show themselves while underage. Which they thought was an acceptable cosplay role-playing. It is time draw a line in the sand.," Torrid said to the cheer of the audience.

"In each of these pleasure boxes, is one of the Mistresses of Mayhem. Each has been specially gift-wrapped, in sensory deprivation hoods complete with pass through gags for those of you who have a need to deep throat the demon bitch and make her swallow whether she loves it or not," Jack said to fifty couples who all were wearing paid for admission wristbands.

"But wait, there's more! To further atone for their sins, which are many, so they need to have the ultimate surrender. They are stockaded so any and all cummers get to anally take them. While they enjoy a deeply mounted horse sized dildo rammed all the way the way home with an internal magic wand super vibrator. That way there is enough vibe for her to properly services whoever is penetrating her hungry ass.," James said as he approached the first box in preparation to lift the covering wooden box off.

While I was finding this very much over the top, I didn't have over 200 years of sexual abuse and frustration to work out either.

Torrid then reclaimed the microphone, but to the highest bidders go the priority after the bukkake games, is the other water sports, Ladies, have you have wanted to squirt down the throat of these high-handed dominatrix bitches? Then here is your chance, no holes barred humiliation, and our demon cunts from hell knowing they have it coming, are hooked up to oxygen, and IV's so they can cum for you longer than you can cum for them. Let the depravity reach new lows," she said as the brothers lifted the heavy travel crate from the pleasure box with stockade set up.

In each box was the three participants in their slut wear, deprivation mask, unable to speak, with their arms and legs plastic wrapped to the supports so there was zero movement of arms and legs. I noticed the EKG monitor and control boxes for drugs and oxygen feeds.

Later the boxes get put back on and the crates are loaded for delivery later, without having to deal with the demon girls until delivery time. The materials looked strong enough to keep John, and myself contained. Note to self, don't piss off Moon, or she may make a box for me.

"Why would our bitches from Hell humiliate themselves like this," Torrid shouted out.

In unison, the Brother's said, "Nobody human or otherwise should be treated like a piece of shit, or meat used and abused for sexual pleasure without their complete consent. In honor of and to raise money for those who have been sexually abused, LET THE EXPLOITATION BEGIN. As each of the three flipped the power switch on the vibrating dildoes, which caused the heavy stoned and sedated participants to start to moan and squirm.

I went to my room upstairs to write this and get some sleep as the ten-a.m. startup of day two of HorrorCon was going to arrive all too soon, and I was tired. The biohazard mess of the amount of sexually created body fluids that was going to be soaked into the clothing, hair, and orifices of these female- demons, painted a most disgusting and smelly mess image. To be a fly on the wall and see their reaction as they regain consciousness on the morning after might be worth it. I wonder if they will have any memory of how this all happened or if that will be part of the mental torture for them. To awakened fouled and safely awaken in your bed like nothing happened. I cannot image the dried urine, semen, vaginal juices and I don't want to know what else, can smell good after; a few hours in a wooden box after medical probing, an unceremonious dumping of their unconscious, and exploited bodies into their assumingly clean sheets. The Brothers have a lot of pent up frustration. The bonus is later, the girls still have to live with the, I told you so part of this.

I need a shower and to wash out the inner wicking layer of the clothes. The rest look good and don't smell so should be good for another day. Then, I am not sweating into them but the thermal suits changeable wicking layer. Also, I need to check for any damage from doing my imitation of Spiderman.
Dear Journal – I survived Saturday at HorrorCon – a walk on the weird side.

It should not be surprising that Saturday at anything with Con at the end of the name is going to weird, in a good way. I enjoyed the assistance of Taylor in checking for damage and maintenance tips on the thermal suit. Yes, I tipped Taylor, twice. We even got the circulation and power recapture generators improved, so when I walk the pressure of walking on my feet moves the liquid and charges the batteries for later. I am thinking this should become a separate product. People walk around all day, charging batteries for things like cell phones and other portable devices. In places that have extreme weather, the thermal suit is very nice, especially if you feel about the cold like I do. With all the alien manipulations of society to arrange for a climate shift denier and his 200 closest sellouts to be in a position of power, we may all need our own climate-controlled clothing to survive. Now if we could preserve the food supply, as if the environment changes or shifts too much, starvation may become the new normal.

I did learn a few things about the Horror genre of books and movies. The Brothers hosted an interesting discussion on the different types of sub-genre.

There is:

Slasher

Kaiju horror (giant monster horror Godzilla)

Zombie/Vampire or supernatural creatures

Mad Scientist horror – pick your favorite disease gone wrong or Frankenstein creation

Suspense horror / Hitchcock's birds

Alien / Sci Fi this is how I have been elevated to a movie character status, though everyone sorts of remembers my name goes with a real human trying to stay one step ahead of everyone. They call it going viral, which somehow makes me feel a little like an opportunistic disease, except I do take the opportunistic sexual experience whenever she is of age.

Alternate reality Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Magic where normal humans are just food/entertainment for the torture pits

The amount of psychological studies and reflection about the Horror genre was very enlightening as well as the crossover into the BDSM genre. The short answer is a coping mechanism to facing our primordial fear of death and the unknown in the afterlife. Some people turn to religion, some turn to adrenaline junkie entertainment, provided we all agree it is a fantasy for our amusement. It is all about surrendering ourselves to our fears to become empowered if I followed it all.

BS&M sponsored a discussion on Alien SciFi Horror, as well as the James Grey trivia contest played by the cosplayers. Along the way, interpretation of my clothing choices has become, The Game, Do You Play T-shirt, or a Tuxedo ala James Bond, which is now moving its way into the Steampunk Mortician's outfit since I am walking death to the religious extremist and evil aliens. Now a lot of this is from the telling the tale from BS&M, but I have never hunted down and killed an alien as far as I know. Now a few religious nut cases who have tried to murder me, are now finding out if their expectations of the afterlife are correct. Funny about the James Bond crossover, everyone always knows the great spy 007 is around, and he survives, and I seem to be following his footsteps. At least I have a physiological reason to survive and get the ladies, he is just written that way. I try to avoid all the things I have in common with Captain America aka Steve Rogers, though I am grateful I have been saved his painful shyness that would keep him from getting laid in a whore house with hundred-dollar bills taped to his forehead. Then he was written for a young adult audience during WWII, whose job it was to kick Hitler's ass. I think I have one of the collector's editions of that comic book, or should I say graphic novel, as everything must be upgraded into an artistically and aesthetically pleasure label.

The damnedest things can happen at these things, and I really did not want to be on stage pretending to be someone else pretending to be me. There I am losing the contest to a 50-year-old, who looks like I would if I aged to 50 because I looked too young to be me. He had the tuxedo thing going and when I age out to that point, I hope I pull it off as well as his honorable James does. To add insult to injury, I am losing the trivial pursuit part of this contest (BS&M Judge Raven is cheating, duh) to a 20 something almost anorexic ally thin woman, in The Game T-shirt without a bra with erect nipples for the crowd. Emily did have every fact ever published by BS&M down perfect. I just submit the actual story, not write the fictionalization of the truth to be more truth than the truth.

It was when a few of the 3 letter agency types showed up to try to find me, thanks John for using me as bait to keep them busy or whatever, that things got interesting. The spokesman for this group wanted to do a biometric and ID check on all of us. Including the Emily who whose camel toe and nipples, should have excluded her from consideration. She did ask, the question, "Excuse me, as there is no criminal investigation in progress, and you are not with a criminal agency, but some sort of Intelligence whatever's, why do I have give you the time of day? There is that little thing called a Constitution, and the Un Patriots act, doesn't apply as James Grey is not a terrorist, he is an alien hunter, and possible mutated human but his alien contact," she said with that tone that a teenager or twenty something who thinks they have nothing lose attitude. It is amazing the teenagers survive, tigers do eat their young.

When the plastic card carrying idiot, grabbed her ripping her shirt halfway off her body, the crowd came alive and the local cops even called them down. Especially as the elder version of me, James was a local Judge and his granddaughter said, "Grandpa, are you going to let the federal government sexually assault her and stomp all over the Constitution?" When it was over, and it was ugly, the police had the moron with a plastic id badge in cuffs, with words like assault and battery, and abuse of authority. Something about Washington should not expect a lot of unfunded reciprocity pickups and detentions in the future either. Something about those damn shirts getting ripped by me or my alter egos faster than I can say yes to a blowjob from a pretty woman. A pretty woman being defined as of age, not smelling too bad and having brushed her teeth, if she still has them. All women are attractive, some are just more so than others, and a light switch is a great equalizer.

It did not help that Emily who has Multiple Sclerosis which leads to her being so thin and frail, as well as migraines to the point she cannot be trusted behind the wheel of a motor vehicle; went down scream in pain when their maltreatment set off both conditions. Jack and James, were the first to get the convention people to get a gurney over, and we all squired her away to Moon and Taylor's booth. Naturally, they had to take it to the sub-basement on acceptable behavior, but their hearts and logic were in the right place. They were prescribing as they called it the two M's; marijuana and masturbation for the combination of conditions, as the endorphins help the migraines and the marijuana makes it so you don't mind the MS, and might even do something for a lot of discomforts. I think they just wanted to see thin and built for speed fucking, naked and putting on a show, and as she was 28 and looking 14, goes with their marching orders from the demon bitches.

When it was over, the deal was, we i.e. me, or I, whatever, this is a diary, not a grammar lesson, is going to be driving her RV back to Rural Pennsylvania, as her driver bailed with his snarking gang buddies. She cannot drive, which puts me driving as James is in full party mode and will not be sober before Tuesday, and Jack will have to drive the rented car. Emily is out of money for shipping the RV and herself back as she was also stuck with the bills when snarking boy was supposed to pay in exchange for her getting him/her and on the team. Somewhere along the way she ended up with the most expensive and most featured remote operated masturbation vibrator set on the planet, but able to have her climax almost on command. Which apparently has a business value as she picks up money doing webcam shows and she has been wanting this item for a long time.

We will be all staying for a few days until we need to run to the next show, at her Bed & Breakfast, which is why she must be back by 8 a.m. Monday as she has bookings and needs to money to stay in business.

During all of this, Jack got a call from a very angry and still stoned Inferna. I could hear things like getting even with and you are going to pay. Jack and James calmly explained, we told you not to try this tactic with the humans, we got you out without anyone even looking for you, as you have an alibi. We are continuing our corruption of the youth as you commanded. At which point, Emily in fully helpless mode between the MS, marijuana and multiple orgasms from the something body remote vibrators in her ass and pussy, was a convulsing, sweaty, wet delicious looking mess.

As part of Emily's payment, she has to do the following follow-up activities on camera for the Angry Brothers show, though it will be edited to be R rated.

While fully restrained in some sort of sexy clothing forced to watch:

Panic In The Year Zero

Creature from the Haunted Sea

The Thing with Two Heads

Then, she needs to be doing her cam show for the boys Midnight Masturbation Mayhem party and follow-up bukkake the three of them being the stars while watching Reefer Madness, while fully stoned on Reefer.

I managed to get two more extended orgasm convulsing rounds with Taylor before I took her to the airport so she can be in Texas early Sunday to get back into Dr. Taylor mode. Raven had the papers for her as the convention and a contract for several more of the prototypes of the thermal suits as well as an interview for a contract with some government and space companies to upgrade and reduce the mass of their thermal suits.

While Emily was putting on her very vocal show, Moon and I tried to match Emily's orgasm set for set. Sunday afternoon I get to pack up anything not sold at closeout prices into the truck for her to take back to Texas. My contributions and selling all the stock to the demon bitches means she has two months of rush production and orders to fill. I should be back my investment by the end of the year, and I am sure whenever I am nearby I will be able to get quality servicing.

BS&M's headlines were about how the Feds and State of New Jersey have no comment about the hospital with a missing wall and three missing suspects. They denied everything, that it was an arrest but it was just a polite conversation about making too much noise in the hotel. I am guessing that not having any physical evidence and then losing injured suspects chained to the furniture that is attached to the building is embarrassing. It doesn't help they also had and possession of 5 sets of matching cosplayers who are all innocent of wrongdoing, but they ran them through the interrogation process for the crime of getting sick, caused some real butt covering.
Dear Journal – packing boxes, repairing/driving an RV and getting a drunk to talk is the order of the day.

Moon and I had sex until 3 a.m. I am a wreck, as I miss my sleep. Ten times strength comes with prices, like a lot more food, daily manicures and pedicures, almost daily haircuts and shaving 2 or 3 times a day, as well as the need to twist one off twice a day, minimum, if not otherwise getting serviced. She is hoping she is pregnant so she can have a baby before she finishes her early menopause, as twice month ovulations and tossing multiple ova at a time, does take a toll. I wonder if I will have more kids running around than King Solomon or a Chinese emperor as they 900 wives, and I am trying to catch up with 900 sexual playmates. Most of the time I am really careful, but I get this breeding urge with some woman that have some sort of attribute that my genetic imperative kicks in. Both mama Taylor and daughter Moon are built like linebackers with genius IQ's, so if kids don't get the early menopause thing, they will be both mentally and physically substantial people. Then by the time they grow up, there could be a cure for the premature menopause conditions.

Raven was telling Moon all about fertility spells before she pulled out with an essentially empty panel truck. Then, Raven and I exchanged high-tech phones with me and telling me that Natalie says I will see her in a month or so, and she would bet on a boy and a girl with the Taylor and Moon. I would so like to think I have some free will in all of this. I have at least a month of running with the Brothers, and Emily's place will be a good hideout as it is off the grid as it were. Julia's Little Johnny, like I didn't know who he was is over six feet tall, and likely with the double reinforcement of the genes to be like Julia and me. Julia is on the pill saving ovum for my next visit, as she is a much a slave to biology as I am. Except she is not being hunted all the time as like all woman not as limited on climaxes possible each time. Then I don't spend 40 weeks pregnant and have years of diapers and formative years with child-rearing duties. Part of me wishes I had a stronger bonding with the children. Julia and Raven live for this, and every other year, I actually get to spend a month at my home, and maybe every six months get a week in with Natalie, which also has the predicted results.

"What is with the rumors of a security breach and some of my files being on the Darknet?" I asked Raven. I am not happy with the idea that my private journals might have leaked. It kills my advantages, puts me and my brood in danger, and might result in one of the other alien factions getting the upper hand and the human race or the part I am a member of, being like the Neanderthal, extinct or breed back into the population and out of business.

"John is working on it which is why you are playing cat and mouse with everyone who might be involved if it has happened. It might be all mind game to get to us," Raven said.

"Have we got our own team in a little league with all the kids in the combined household?" I half joked.

"Nope, too many of them prefer basketball and karate, baseball is too slow and not enough contact for your overly aggressive offspring. By the committee above, I wonder how I bought into all of this, and your harem is the one pushing this mad agenda. By the way, when you hide the weapons thereby losing the Steampunk look, that outfit works for you and the extra protection and environmental controls means my grandbabies will probably get to visit their daddy a bit more. Taylor should have another change of clothes for you by the end of the week," she said.

"What do you know about the Zombie twins?" I asked.

"You are going to be telling us. John thought they died again in WWII, which they don't seem to recall. See what you can illicit. The phone will record it all, and you should have better communications. You are off the grid, but the offices are monitored. Change burner phone card whenever you call any of us, and you know email is right out of there on privacy. I would send up another new RV, but you have run the liquidity down for a month or two. Damn, if you don't always pick a money maker, but it is always about 6 months later than my old heart can take. How you keep the 20 RV's you have squirreled away around the country off the radar is amazing. You might want to pull one out of mothballs if I go shopping they will notice," she said.

"Old Heart, not since we figured out how to extend thing with a little blood magic," I replied.

"Delays the inevitable, and I am not built with the survival drive you two are. Julia isn't either, though she will probably be having babies for the next hundred years if she keeps controlling her ovulation for breeding purposes only, I am on borrowed time, I am only a few years younger than you, and I didn't get a 30-year nap," Raven said, with the voice of a sixty something year old and the ass of thirty-something.

The RV was one step from being non-operational and looks like it is being used more of the home that the B&B pictured on the website Emily advertises on. The medical bills have been taking their toll on things. She just inherited it from Grandma, who tried to keep it up, but two medically heavy bill creators and a limited income property off the beaten track. Is not a good combination, which has me wondering if I am rebuilding another business? I shouldn't complain, as I was making good money on all my charity cases. Many of which are supporting the little bill makers I have been doing my part towards creating. At least I am welcome to come and visit, as the bills are paid, the women were willing, and they know I have a good reason to stay on the run, so the occasional visit for birthdays, a wam bam, thank-you mam, is fine by them. My poor mother would not approve, and generally, I don't when I take a good hard look at things.

Natalie, my ultimate lover, and hand-fasted partner, since she will not accept term wife when she is not in a coma with her Mental-Net surfing, is the one who keeps telling me I have no choice but to go forth and breed. Then when she is around, the complete joining and truly mind-blowing and sharing sex puts the rest of my breeding actions into an ejaculation is an ejaculation, sometime some place warm and wet and the rest of the time needing a shower. I wish the battle for humanity on the Mental-Net battlefield would get to a point that I could just stay home and be with her until the morning light, every night. Charlie Elk told me all those years ago, that there is nobody more blessedly cursed than the man who loves a spirit walker, as some legends are based on truths.

We all met at the nearest Walmart as the Feds would be watching for me and expecting my usual get-a-way vehicle to be an RV. So. James and I took the rent-a-car, for the usual spy tactics for the avoid the tail routine drive. While at Walmart I made the semi-good mistake of asking them to look over the RV while we got some other supplies and some clothes. I cannot wear the Morticians outfit all the time. The thermal suit with its armor, on the other hand, does fit under regular clothes.

I think two of the tires gave out as the technician put the RV on the rack. Sunday night emergency shopping trips are a bitch, as was the bill. I am so tempted to call on one of my many bolt hold locations to reclaim one of my many old by functional RV's. My friends appreciate having a weekend getaway, and I always have a crash pad, and wheels if I need them. Good thing they are built to be stored for long periods of time. The one woman run on Walmart was less than entertaining for my assessment of the bill, but I said that already. Let me say it again, but it was shopping for four.

The first items being cleaning supplies at Emily's request did make me feel better about the potential that this B&B would be cleaner than the RV and went a long way to improve the condition of the inside of the RV. Fresh sheets, cleaning, and a long visit to the dumpster to remove the float-some that collects. Many years of experience makes me an expert in rotating out the contents of an RV. A few collapsible trash bags, and a lot of disinfectant sprays later the place was habitable. The boys proved their resume, as these Monks can clean. I would bet they were always on the cleaning detail considering their language during the process. The periodic flashbacks to old English during this process should have been recorded for comic posterity.

Emily was stuck in thee thou thine thy, mode throughout the later second dinner, with her mostly commenting on how I must be the real deal as I just put away more food than her friends could on an extended munchie weekend. My mood improved when she told me that she was halfway through having some dome home cabins assembled. Halfway, and yes, I grabbed a tool kit, and a chain hoist and support pipes and connectors that can be modified for geodesic dome angles. I am sure my need to revisit to my childhood obsession with erector sets is about to reappear with an oversized version. Here is to hoping Emily is good with my erection set later.

Emily made it clear Jack is not allowed to drive the RV. James was avoiding a hangover by staying drunk. So, in an undersized and underpowered mini sized RV, are on our way to a remote part of Pennsylvania.

Time for some fishing. "James oh drunken one, why is it you two are choosing to look like the zombie thing and what have you been doing for 200 years? I am up to my ass in alligators on my much shorter lifespan," I asked.

"We have been in the pit, being tortured for most of that time. Believe me, we would rather be running for our lives like you seem to be doing a lot of," He slurred back at me.

"Why the zombie gig?" I asked.

"Not really a gig, or is it gag? The real deal. Ah, you don't know about zombies. We are not those diseased eating brains and mindlessly stopping around crap you see on TV and the movies we roast," He said.

"Okay, what are you?" I asked while making sure my phone was plugged in as its constant recording mode kills batteries and warranties.

"Calling me a Zombie is like calling you a Vampire. Remember we knew John a couple of centuries back, and maybe during a couple of our drunken whoring party between then and now my memory it is all fuzzy when I am drunk and missing when I am not. Like the song, I drink to remember and sometimes I drink to forget. Some abilities crossovers, to give you the appearance, but unlike you, we do have supernatural deities that we have to answer too. Seen them on both sides of the fence, and even the good guys are not all that concerned for any one individual, we are all just tools made out of meat. Spent my life trying to serve the light and ended up a slave to the dark," he said as he sucked on his wild turkey straight from the bottle.

"My stomach hurts watching you do that, can you use a glass and make it look like you are pacing yourself?" I asked.

"In this pit of a thing, I might catch something. Good call on trashing this thing out and the clothing run to clean Emily's world up a bit more. Did I mention I can be OCD on cleaning things? Who do you think taught Florence Nightingale how and why to clean? Not that I got any credit. I appreciate you doing you bit to piss off The Pit. Where was I?

Class 1 zombies are the virus and bacteriological reanimations, and yes, they do exist. But a shot to the brain pan or decapitation does them in nicely, otherwise they die off from starvation in a week to a month. I suggest a good Scottish Claymore or machete, otherwise, the blades don't last long.

Class II, reanimated with some brain functioning but more Frankenstein, with a limited lifespan, though they can eat simple meals which grants longer functionality. It all depends on how long before reanimation; and we tried to wipe her memory of what she saw but it didn't take. Usually, a Class II is a Class III that was dead too long.

Class III are good for a couple of years, as foot soldiers, or standing guard or doing construction as simple lift this carry that is their limits, no rotting but no healing or regeneration so the cumulative damage adds up.

Jack and I are what is called a class IV Zombie, we were dead and fully rebuilt, with full mental functions. Even able to learn and perform certain aspects of simple magic. We eventually can heal from anything, which is why we can be tortured for an eternity in hell, and have things cut off and grow back. We feel all the pain. After a while, you miss the pain when it is gone. Probably why we haven't killed off the demon bitches since we are stronger than they are.

The demon bitches are something else. I am not sure they were ever human. They never have a period, but always have what you call PMS. If they do enough bad shit, they earn their horns which amplify their ability to weaken the emotional stability of humans so they can be tempted to do stupid shit and get killed and go to hell.

But we do what we can. Like MS, that is one of the girls' creations, in that they created or bred for a susceptibility to the virus that activates the gene. Working on having a human race that can be blackmailed into servitude. Do as we command or else. One of the reasons marijuana was made illegal, is that it can treat the nasty effect of this and many other human chronic conditions," he said.

"I thought they caused it to be illegal since they are so, susceptible to it," I said.

"Half right. They are all about enslavement and making life miserable. A miserable population is easier to control with fear and such. Think about it, they are the ones that got sex to be considered sinful. Since they are evil and like sex, the good church types went the other way with it. Prohibition with outlawed drinking, whoring and leaving the homos to themselves out of sight out of mind, was another victory that the Inferna and the demon bitches pulled off. Getting the good church going to outlaw and prohibit the behaviors that are the pressure release valves for society. With everyone drinking and whoring anyway, law and order has become separate from society, and the jackboot that politicians and the powerful use to beat down the population. The best part it is self-sustaining and everyone blames the enforcers, instead of the fact that the victims are perpetuating the mechanism of their oppression. If people just left it alone market conditions would regulate it without effort.

Have you ever noticed in places where porn, prostitution, recreational use of drugs, alcohol, and honesty about sex, such as letting kids know that masturbation is normal, just don't do it in public, have a very low sex and other violent crimes rates? Check the stats. You have fewer unplanned pregnancies, so children are a blessing instead of a duty. One of the demons, you know, nonhuman intelligences, biggest victories were encouraging good sexual moral values, you know suppressing sexuality. Be fruitful and multiply, and all that crap has done more to keep the population compliant, miserable, now with antibiotics, vaccines are pushing the population to be miserable and poisoning the place so the human race will be dead, and or enslaved. If they human race makes the place enough of Hell on earth there is a loophole in the rules of the game that allows them to oust the humans, subjugate them and take over the place.

It is getting harder and harder to derail this train. Internet porn is probably our greatest victories. The demons think we are corrupting everyone, while the renewed talk about sexual honesty and normal behaviors. The demons or as you think of them aliens because they are not human have their agenda in mind and it is not good for man. The problem is people are gullible and dumb. Just tell them that the message came from an angel and they will kill off each other in the name of love and peace with more ruthless hatred and torture than any demon has ever been accused," he lectured with increasing slurry and drunkenness.

"It does seem one extremist on any end of any religious extreme can make the other 99.999% be unacceptable, and that 99.999% will close ranks to protect them in the name of heaven while they make a hell on earth. So how do we do anything to derail the evil demon type aliens?" I asked.

James replied by being passed out stinking drunk. Then I don't think I would have gotten as much as I did as fast if he was sober.

As for an experience, driving an RV through a blizzard with a passed-out Zombie in the back is a new one.
Dear Journal: Shoveling everything from B.S. dirt, ice, and snow.

Finally made it to B.F.E. Pennsylvania, yes, I am being unfair, but it was a long day, and it is not looking good for a night's sleep, so I am cranky. If you missed anything in the middle, I was driving in an icy blizzard on gravel roads heading for the Bed and Breakfast. Almost getting hit by a snow plow did nothing good for my calmness levels. When we arrived to find the entrance road to the B&B has been buried in a weekend's worth of snowplowing that was also seriously iced over, I was less than thrilled. When Emily went on and on about this being the fault of the SOB, she dated in high school that is the poster boy for a stocker whose brother is the senior deputy sheriff, I just knew this coming week was going to have a bitch of a start. I realize we are in Amish, Mennonite, and Quaker country and I should be turning the other cheek and all the crap, but when I was digging through 20 by 30 feet of iced in snow that is 30 some feet thick, with a broken hexalogy sign made of real heavy wood mixed in for good measure, my thoughts were more about digging a grave for the SOB who did this than clearing the snow. Shoveling with a spade 12,000 cubic feet of ice or 711,600 pounds of snow will piss me off. Yes, I know Dr. Wilson would demand that I use the SI system and say 323,454 kilograms, but I am not in the mood.

I almost killed Jack and James, when I found the heavy, and I mean a heavy wooden sign, with Wilkum and a couple of love birth looking things on it. The dense hickory wooden planks made up the scene where 4x6 and I mean the full four inches thick by six inches long tongue and grooved to join them into one huge ten foot by ten foot billboard. The math works out to be 16.5 cubic feet and dense hickory is 59 pounds per cubic foot, so about 970 or more pounds, or 442 kilograms. Apparently, they recognize this sign, and they build it in 1769 when they were monks in good standing. I am not sure Emily heard all of that, but she if was in a state of distress before, she was near having an apoplexy at the thought that this hunk of old wood, that has been with the family property since before the revolutionary war was further damaged. I knew then and there that was going to be a week of one fucking construction project after another, that are not my idea. Yes, it is all going to be in the middle of damn ice blizzard with me freezing something or another off. The thermal suit was so earning its money at this point. Normally this kind of cold has me incapacitated in a short amount of time, unless I am doing nothing but heavy exercise, like now. Even I cannot keep this level of effort up long. The suit keeps me from overheating, which sounds funny in a blizzard but if you experienced working in the snow you get hot, then you stop and you freeze worse than before.

Shoveling the snow with very little help is no fun and trying to pull a hunk of wood out of it without damaging it, is just right out of there on no fun scale. In fairness, the boys did get a couple of snow scoops from the B&B and were moving the snow all the way out of the driveway into the tree areas on the side, so I did not have to dig it twice, but, at the time, burying all of them and calling it an act of nature was tempting. The act of nature being, pissing me off while I am shoveling, causing me to bury your annoying ass since I am doing all the heavy work. Yes, I am should have remembered I am ten-men worth of strong and a backhoe and snow plow would have found this to be a challenge. Almost 3 hours later, or 4 a.m., I got that damn sign safely by the B&B and the snow cleared nice and flat for driving the vehicles into the property.

At this point when James and I who had been doing the last of the work on the sign while Jack muscled the sign into some configuration that pleased him, James and I found that the snow plow had put a 5-foot-high four-foot deep pile in front of the drive again. Now my pudgy friend moving the sign around is demonstrating he is about the strength of your outstanding lineman on a professional football team, and I know James is stronger from how he moved the snow after I chipped it loose and moved it with the now worn out spade. Ice does nothing good for tools.

The offending snow plow was nowhere in sight as I shoved all the snow back onto the road and mostly to the ditch on the other side as we need to drive on this damn road. The white car was totally missing in the mounds on the side of the road and the RV was buried as it could be on three sides, though I could not tell if the snow plow hit it or not. At this point, Emily is taking pictures and calling the state patrol to report the snow plow driver, again. Calling the local sheriff is a waste of time and the department of roads having all of her other complaints on file wants to hear directly from her via the state police.

At this point, the snow plow shows up, driven by Emily's least favorite person, Brennon Mallory, who blocked the entrance with his plow blade and shoved a new mound of snow for me to climb over in the process. I was filming all of this with my phone's camera when I came to the top of the mound near the plow blades edge on the driver's side when I saw him strike Emily to the ground and point a gun at me. The camera caught him shooting me, in the protective plates of my body armor build into my regular coat. Just because I play be bait on a regular basis and still have a bunch of religious nut cases out to kill me does not mean I am not going around unprotected. The camera does not see much after it hit the ground. One second later Brennon put the gun in his own mouth and pulled the trigger on the 45-caliber model 1911 semi-automatic. That is my story and I am sticking to it. Obviously, I could not get up and travel 50 or more feet in heavy snow grab the six foot six, three-hundred-pound snow plow driver who shoots first and ask questions later, control his hand with a gun put it in his mouth in about a second. That would mean I am stronger than ten men and can move faster than even an outstanding athlete.

As you can imagine Emily's week long booking for the B&B showed up at 9 a.m. to the police convention that was occurring and felt the need to cancel their booking for cause. Jack was busy showing the evidence of the snow plow damage to the sign which could only have been done by a deliberate act on the driver's part. Apparently, he also ran into it by accident when he was sixteen and dating Emily. This accident which cost him his truck and his father to pull his license was about the same time, everything in Emily's life started to go to shit, but that is another story. Once again, this sign, while cool looking is a pain in my neck, or two feet lower.

It is all okay I should expect the three letter types any time now. I did film a battery and attempt on my life, and almost caught the suicide, but I dropped the phone when I was shot. The battery on my thermal suit is out of power and having a paramedic poke you in the bruising from being shot with body armor on does not keep you warm in a blizzard, even if the ambulance's heat is on high. Emily is sedated on the gurney next to me, while the other paramedic is trying to get all of Brennon's brains and other skull fragments and fluids off her. His corps fell on her unconscious body as he had hit the 105 pound overly thin woman with enough force to have killed.

I was making a fuss about having to give up my phone as evidence, as to be expected. My phone sends all of it data to be stored in the cloud, so I used the special app on my phone to delete all the sensitive information like this journal, VPN, and other clandestine means of being tracked electronically on this phone. I know I am going to lose this one, but I have to put up the fight, so everyone will be so busy going through the phone that they will give me wiggle room if I need it. Brennon's twin brother was nice enough to visit and pay his compliments, which the nice state police made a note of, even as they tried to make excuses for a badge brother. I am guessing that Brone Mallory will want to continue this conversation in private later.

About noon the FBI and other three letter types arrived, somewhat miffed that the video was posted online, as my phone sends every picture to BS&M automatically, which is why I don't do selfies or let my lovers make me private inspirations videos with my phone, but some do email some to me later. It is good to have the 1st amendment protect you from the cruel cold world in a blanket of warming freedom from oppression. Not that a lot of politicians wouldn't like to change that, in the name of protecting the dignity of the country. I fought and arguably died for the freedom the flag stands for, even to burn it, though I consider anyone who does that an asshole, they have the right to be an asshole, and I will continue to defend their right to be an asshole, but I might be tempted to knock them on their butt.

I do have to thank Jack for taking one for the team, as his born again pagan shirt, was guaranteed to set off the assembled crowd. But it did get Emily and I the distraction to go to B&B for a warm shower and head to bed. She pointed me at a shower and told me to climb into her old bedroom bed, as the more masculine rooms were booked. I was so tired it slipped my mind to tell her I think all of her bookings are dead. I hit the shower sucking down two protein shakes at 5 minutes to noon, and would not bet I was still conscious at noon. The sheets smelled of rose petals, as darkness fell.
Acknowledgments

Every person who has helped me along the way, especially my family for not killing me as a child and my wife and kids for not helping with an involuntarily assisted suicide while I created this.

Ash Nom DePlume is obviously a Pen Name listing the real names of those I owe an Acknowledgement is problematic. I hope they know who they are and don't think I forgot them. Considering some of the places this fiction went, they should be happier I did not thank them in a public forum.

However, Jack Angry who you can contact via the Web is out there and in the story so I should be safe in some public thanks. He did get me off of my ass to get my long stale very much copyrighted manuscripts out in the world instead of on a hard drive. His assistance in creating this story, editing and such is appreciated, as is demonstrated in the special price offered the fans of the Angry Brothers. Don't forget to thank Jack and James aka Angry Brothers, Torrid, Syn, Ash and the infamous Inferna. If you are seeing this after you paid money when there was a coupon available, I/we tried to put this part in the free preview, description and other promotional materials in a good faith effort to provide those fans a special treat. If you did pay money, think of it as a tip to keep me in beverages so I may continue the naughty work of entertaining you with more stories, but I did try.

I feel it necessary to thank The Smashword publishing and distribution system for making it possible for you the reader to have affordable access to, do I say literary, entertainment. For anyone who ever thought of writing a story to see if they could provide a little entertainment and amusement to the world you know, there is a lot of this looks good BUT and for a small investment of JUST you can get your work out to the public. So, the value of Smashword should not be undervalued.

Your patience as this work while edited and passed through many hands to avoid annoying errors and mistakes. If you are offended my "occasionally raunchy and some might even call X-rated to offensive content, don't pay money for this and be offended. This fictional, yes, I said fictional document is just some good not-so-clean naughty fun, with a theme of science fiction, aliens, paranormal, demons, a few characters who are little too much into S&M, and the protagonist who is telling you about his day and trying to keep some of his so-called sanity.
About the Author

The real author is an eclectic scientist/teacher/sometime writer (who maintains all rights reserved for copyright) which might explain why I make use of an over-the-top Pen Name. Also, a Pen Name gives the freedom to let the sometimes-disturbing aspects of a character or story go which every which way (or the random dice roll) takes it.

About the author, too little hair on top rapidly heading to my toes, too much waistline in the middle. An enough experience to get into trouble in things ranging from jewelry and leaded glass window making, military, law and enforcement thereof, business and some finance (don't ask me how to make money in the markets if I was successful at it I wouldn't be worried about a pen name to keep my day job) and an endless curiously about all things science including things that are not studied but should have a good hard look.

Yes, global warming is real, so get over it and do something useful to help.

No, I don't know if UFO's are real or not, but maybe we should support efforts of MUFON or some other legitimate scientific research even if that comes back they are not real, but what if they are, and then what are we going to do.

Yes, I am a serious Science Fiction Geek and will not wear Star Trek TOS Red Shirts just in case.

Yes, Star Wars and Battlestar Galactica rock and I will not take sides as to which of these shows or universes are better.

Yes, I want a TARDIS, but who doesn't

If you are not too offended feel free to contact me connect to the author page, contact info or you can try ashnomdeplume@yahoo.com. Sorry if I am slow to get back to you as I still need my day job. Check out other works I have done, which can be found below. Hopefully, I will make enough of a refund of expenditures to buy more coffee so I can write more stories to add to the list below. Look for coupons, free offers otherwise you might have to pay a dollar or so to buy your own copy of a title you like. I do make every effort to keep the price at a level of recovery of expenses and less a cup of designer coffee at [insert name of your favorite place here] chain or restaurant. I also like good tea, too though the purist out their will not like the amount of honey or whatever sweetener I find that day.
Other books by this Author

Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to discover other books by Ash Nom DePlume:

The Leaked Journals Series

The Psionicist Guild Vol 1

The Grey Files: Life and Times of James Grey

Shades of Grey (no relationship and predating 50 Shades of Grey) Journal #1  
Grey Haunting Journal Set #2

The Grey Files: Angry Brothers Vol 1 of __ (feedback is demanding more) #483

The Grey Files: Angry Brothers Vol 2 of __ (feedback is demanding more) #484

The Grey Files: Angry Brothers Vol 3 of __ (feedback is demanding more) #485 –

Leaked: The Grey Files The Journal Series 1, 2, 483, 484, 485 A Combined Collection

The Grey Files: Angry Brothers Vol IV of __ (feedback is demanding more) #486

Rules of Magic Journals Series –

The Hospice Chaplin's Confessions Journals –

Easter egg write in and ask for a free book if you say you are a Angry Brothers fan, and tell us what you thought of the book you just read.
Connect with Ash Nom DePlume

I really appreciate you reading my book! Here are my social media coordinates:

Friend me on Facebook: <https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100014846021654>

Follow me on Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Ash_Nom_DePlume>

Email is ashnomdeplume@yahoo.com, though I am slow to get to this one.

