The Lust that Sleeps (closed for WeaverofWorlds)

[brandijade]

Brandi was blindfolded, and every time the car hit a pothole, she was thrown. Frankly, it sucked, and she thought the whole "Surprise Party Initiation," was way out of hand. They hadn't been on pavement for a while now, and Brandi was starting to get nervous. But it was Heather, and if Brandi wanted to join the tri Chi sorority, she had to put up with Heather's bullshit. The way she was giggling wasn't making Brandi feel any better about it, either. When Heather giggled, somebody was screwed.

"You know about the The Murder House, don't you Amy?" Heather said.

Amy was riding in the back, next to Brandi, making sure the Freshman didn't pull the blindfold down.

"Oh yeah," Amy said. She had a Appalachian twang in her voice, and liked climbing mountains and outdoorsy shit which Brandi could pretty much live without. Brandi was pretty much interested in partying and fashion. She already had a line of bikinis that was doing ok, and she was ready to make the next move. That was where the connections she could make in a national sorority would make a difference. Tri Chi was the one. There were alums with influential positions in every facet of the fashion industry. So, Heather's bullshit.

"Well, tell her, dumbass," Heather said.

"Oh yeah," Amy said. "So... the Murder Mansion was built, like five hundred years ago or something, and it used to be, like, a whore house, right? And one day there was this guy who came by, and he had no money, but he offered to work? And the place needed to be fixed up, cause it was so old, right? Anyway, this guy stays in his truck at night, until it gets cold, you know? Then they let him stay in the basement. And that's where he found this ancient statue. It was this old sex demon, from like, ancient Middle Earth...."

"The Middle East," Heather interrupted. Brandi did not want to switch places with Amy right then.

"Right right," Amy said. "The Ancient Middle East. And this statue, like, possessed him, and made him go crazy. Because like, he was like, super Christian or something. All those ladies kept trying to get with him, and he was so guilty about wanting to do them that he cracked."

Brandi was sure she had seen this movie, but the name was escaping her.

"But because they were just whores, nobody did anything about it," Amy said. "They say he died there. They say that he's still there, and anyone who spends the night there is gonna get killed."

The car stopped.

"Unless?" Heather prompted after a long pause.

"Unless she's a virgin," Amy said. And pulled the blindfold off Brandi's eyes. The last light of dusk illuminated an old house, crumbling, deep in the woods.



"Well, I'm shit out of luck, then," Brandi said.

"With those sex dreams you're having, I guess you are," Amy said.

"They're not sex dreams!" Brandi protested too much. They were absolutely sex dreams, and she'd been having them every night since she came to college. Except the nights when she had actual sex, which wasn't as much as everybody seemed to think.

"If you want to be a tri Chi, you stay inside until Amy comes to get you," Heather said. "At dawn." She led the three of them up the creaky front steps.

Brandi knew the story was bullshit. It was just a hazing thing, to scare her, to make her prove... whatever this bullshit proved. But it was dark, and the house was old and abandoned. Who knew what kind of wild animals or degenerate rednecks might come by in the night. She couldn't help shivering with fear as she looked around. It looked like nothing had been in here for years.

"This place is filthy," she said. "I can't believe you let me wear this dress."

Heather giggled again. "But you were feeling so cute."

Brandi sighed. She had been feeling cute. No wonder Heather was enjoying this so much.

"Have fun!" Heather said. The front door closed. The lock turned. She heard the car turn around and drive away. There had been a candelabra on the hearth, and she made her way there. She could just make out the shapes of things, and she stumbled and nearly fell on something. There were candles. And matches. She lit a match, and lit one of the candles. There wasn't much left. Of any of them. She would have to make them last. She took the matchbox and looked inside. Just a few.

This was one of those times when she wished her dress had pockets, but she brushed the matchbook off as best she could and tucked it into the front of her dress, trusting to her cleavage. She made her way through the house. There was a bathroom she didn't dare investigate upstairs, and three bedrooms. Downstairs was a kitchen and a living room, a dining room. There were stone fireplaces in all the rooms. They were furnished, but the furniture had been moldering for ages. She didn't trust any of it. There was also a door in the hall that was locked. It would have led under the stairs, either to Harry Potter's cupboard or a basement stair. Neither was very appealing, so she left it alone.

Before the first candle went out, she found a broom and swept the wooden bench in the front hall. It looked sturdy enough, and nothing would be living in it. She sat down. The candle went out. It was darker than anything she had seen.

The fear was almost better than the boredom. She would doze off, and then snap awake because something creaked inside the house. She lit two more of the candles out of fear, searching through the house for whatever imagined threat had woken her, but there was nothing.

Eventually, she must have fallen really asleep. She thought at first she was having the sex dream again, because she heard the voice calling her by name. Everything was the same strange pastiche of pale light and deep shadows, and then she realized it was the moonlight, finding its way through the trees to find the busted out shutter and shine straight into her face, waking her. There were other patches of moonlight, and they very clearly showed the prints of bare feet in the dust on the floor. They looked fresh.

She had kept her heels on, rather than step on something awful and die of some horrible infection. And these feet had to be a size fourteen, men's. She wore a 5. But they reminded her of the sex dream and dammit, she was horny. And bored, and confused. She followed them into the hall, not needing a candle because of the moonlight, bringing the candelabra anyway. It was heavy wrought iron, and if it was Heather here fucking with her, she might just bash the girl's head in and claim self defense.

The footprints ended at the door, but the moonlight fell on the lock. There was a key in it. There definitely had not been a key there before. She had checked. Or had she? She was sure she had. But there was a key there now, and someone with very big feet had walked through here. She turned the key, and the lock clicked smoothly. She turned the handle, and the door opened. There was a warm glow coming from down the stairs.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

Doctor Jason McCallum would readily admit to any that asked that he was not at the forefront of his field. While he was a good psychiatrist, excellent even, he was not an innovator or a master of the human mind. While he has his license to practice, he had not done so in years. Rather, he'd taken up a position teaching at the local college, a relatively small campus if still well respected. Some of his colleagues had of course told him that old adage of "those who cannot do, teach" but even that hadn't been much to dampen his spirits. He'd done well for himself, and a quiet life in a decently sized town, without any of the crowds of the big city would do him just fine. That quiet existence had even managed to hold for a good number of years.

Then the police came knocking at his door.

At first he'd been confused as to why they would even need his presence at all. Surely there were criminal psychologists who could better provide some insight into whatever criminal mind they'd want him to ponder. When they'd brought him to the patient however, he suddenly understood. The young man, a student he recognized from one of his classes, laid out in a hospital bed, seemingly healthy yet entirely unresponsive. Every medical test done came up with nothing, no rhyme or reason as to how or why the man had almost no brain activity beyond the most basic necessities to live. Everything suddenly made sense then, Jason's thesis has been upon cognitive issues with a focus on the comatose. From a psychiatric view of things, of course, but then that was why he'd been called.

The patient was Phillip Grayson, an above average student. Despite the reputation of frat boys, he'd actually been something of a stellar student, putting just as much effort into school work as partying. A shame then, that no matter what Jason attempted, he remained entirely unresponsive. Despite attempts at some manner of response, subtle poking of the man's psyche through suggestions, words, even the application of pain as doctors neared desperation. Everything they tried ended in failure. There's was absolutely no indication of anything at all that could be wrong, and the police could find absolutely no evidence at all of any psychological problems.

But Jason was nothing if not persistent, and even if there was no obvious signs of anything wrong, it was clear something was. There had to be something somewhere. The police had released him, thanking him for his help, but he couldn't quite bring himself to simply let the matter go. There had to be something more to this, had to be something they weren't seeing.

 

[brandijade]

It was just like the dream. The stairs were dusty, and those footprints were there. As Brandi descended, the moonlight faded, and the warm glow seemed to spread out and welcome her. She knew what she would find. Candles burning, the flagstone floor. The platform. The door. Him.

She felt dizzy, remembered to breathe, gasped. She was tingling, everywhere. Had Heather slipped her molly? But it had been hours. It wouldn't just be kicking in now, would it? It didn't feel like that, anyway. This was more like... like a date with a guy she really liked. The anticipation, the excitement, the hope and the fear. Was she dreaming now?

Really, did anything else make sense? As jumpy has she had been, could some giant of a man opened the front door, which was locked and creaked like the cheesiest of haunted houses? Could he have snuck past her, and then come down here, leaving the key in the outside lock? Who had lit the candles? How was this so familiar, if it wasn't a dream?

But in her dream, she never wondered if it was a dream.

As she came to the bottom of the stairs, there it was. The floor was actually wood, not stone. The candles were in empty wine bottles, the wax pouring down the sides. The platform was covered with a thick, soft cloth. Sunk in the fabric was an old book, an antique, maybe? But there was no gilt lettering on the spine, no nothing at all. And the cover seemed crude, as if someone had made it by hand. She opened it to the first page. Hand-written, in some obnoxiously elaborate calligraphy that made it nearly impossible to read.

"N... Nunc... optimus fellatrix venit a fanum?" she finally made out. "What the fuck is this, Greek or something?"

She shut the book, a bit harder than necessary, and the slapping echoed through the basement. She was trembling with that strange, dreamlike arousal, and she realized she had been waiting for him. The doors were there, but they did not burst open.

The book opened again. She looked at the page it opened to.

"Viam aperi? Fellare? Flecto? What is this?"

Then she heard a noise. Something behind the door. She thought of her dreams. She saw the cushion on the floor and knelt.

"Viam aperi," she whispered. Open the way. "Veni ad me." She wasn't sure how she knew what to say, but the words came pouring out. "I osculari te. Fellat te Dominus." As she spoke, she felt the tingling grow to a feverish heat. She had to swallow before she started drooling.

She repeated the words, like a chant, like an incantation. Like a prayer.

The door handle turned.

"Gratias," she moaned.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

It was something only half-remembered from the day before. Some fragmented comment, not even something would have stuck out to him normally, that had him waking at near four in the morning. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, eyes wide in confusion, yet still somehow so certain that it would lead to an answer. The comment couldn't mean anything at all, couldn't be more than a muttered set of words. But all the same it stuck out, like a light bulb turned on that could not be turned off.

Something like this had happened before.

It wasn't often he called into the college, cancelling all his classes for the day. To the point, he hadn't once done so before, showing up half-dead to his classes to, at the very least, attempt to teach. He did it that morning, as he tossed on something casual and headed out into the morning air. A half hour later, he was standing in a dimly lit archive, searching through articles of the local paper. It took him nearly the entire day, working without rest for hours, before he found what he was looking for, among faded articles printed decades before. Among the headlines and proclamations of the Great Depression, he found mentions in the local paper of strange happenings, of young men becoming unresponsive, wasting away in the homes and hospital beds. It was enough to have him grinning at the sudden revelation, even though he wasn't certain what exactly it all meant. But if there was a record of this happening before, maybe there was some hope for Mr. Grayson.

Still, there was only so much he could do, and with the police no longer needing his input, Jason was left with little to go on. But... perhaps there was still an avenue he could pursue. His own personal investigation, though he'd have to keep things as quiet as he could. If the police caught wind of it, it's likely he'd be warned off, or at least told to keep his notes out of a police investigation. Neither was appealing, but he doubted the police would take the news that this had happened before and do anything useful with it. If the old newspaper articles were to be believed, this first young man wouldn't be the last, Jason couldn't allow the investigation to conclude without doing something.

Besides, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to be the one to make a breakthrough, to crack the case as it were. To satisfy his own curiosity, this strange yearning to dig deeper into whatever mystery this was, and of course help solve the problem plaguing his student. But there wasn't much to go on. Even the articles made little mention of cause for the strange occurrences. There had to be something more, and even as Jason lay awake in bed that same night, he couldn't place his finger on it or for the life of him find a single thing connecting anything.

Then, just after midnight, the call came in again.

 

[brandijade]

The door opens, and Brandi holds a hand up to shield her eyes. In the dream, he's impossible to look at. Like the sun, there is just warmth and brightness and beauty. Like the sun, heat radiates off of him. In the dream he comes to her, so hot she is afraid to touch him but now....

The door swings open, all the hear is inside her. She squirms, horny, keeling, and lowers her arm. The statue has no face, just a headish lump on a neck, broad shoulders, but crudely sculpted. As her eyes follow the form of the body down, it becomes more and more lifelike. The statue is not quite anatomically correct. It's cock is too big. It's a porncock. Not even, a comic cock. Maybe a foot and a half long, thick as a beer can, with a lifelike head, and veins that almost seem to throb. She reaches out. It's hard, unyeilding stone, but...

Hot to the touch. She slides both hands around the shaft, and more than half is still exposed. In the dream, he fed her his cock. Now, she stares at it, breathing hard, wondering at the head, aching for it. If only there was a guy here. A real guy, instead of this statue of her dream lover. Her hands fell to her side.

Will you give up so easily?

The voice was unmistakably in her head. But it boomed, it seemed to echo through the room. She looked up at the faceless statue. She imagined it staring down at her, wanting her.

Who had opened the door? She had been sitting here. The handles had turned. She had been chanting in Latin. She had understood what it meant. Come to me. I will kiss you. I will suck you, Lord. Just as she had done in the dreams. She had sucked that magnificent cock in her dreams. She bit her lip and looked at it again.

It was beautiful. It wasn’t just huge, it was perfectly formed. And, she narrows her eyes. She reached out and touched it again. It was hot, and it was smooth. It was clean. There was dust everywhere, the dirt of years settling onto everything, but the statue was clean. She leaned towards it and her tongue touched it.

It was unlike anything she had ever tasted. There was the salt, meatish taste of a guy’s cock, but there was a deep musk, a kind of unfathomable sweetness that seemed to warm her body like a shot of whiskey on a cold night. She felt a pressure in her pussy, and she licked again. She let out a moan. She reached between her legs to make sure that there was nothing there, and when she slid her lips around the head of the monstrous stone cock, she felt the pressure on her g spot, though there was nothing there.

The statue started to glow, just like in her dreams, and she felt her head moving up and down, only taking the smallest fraction of the sculpted organ, but moving it in and out.

I have been waiting for you, the voice said. You are my Chosen.

The light from the non-face grew brighter, and the pressure in her pussy grew deeper.

Prepare a place for me in the mortal realm. Collect their ecstasy.

She felt the stone cock hitting the back of her throat, and she swore she tasted precum. It was brighter and brighter, and she was cumming, but it was more than just cumming. It was a spiritual awakening. A Becoming. She was the Chosen of this God, who only wanted her to collect ecstasy.

She imagined herself on her knees, sucking on a man’s cock. The glow was in her now, and her God made the man’s pleasure hers.

The statue grew hotter and brighter until she was sure she would catch fire, and then she was burning, and glowing, and all there was anymore was the light and heat of endless lust.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

He'd made his way to the hospital before one, was gazing thoughtfully at the newest addition to the comatose before two. Doctors were already repeating the tests they'd performed upon Phillip, but Jason had chosen to excuse himself. He'd no reason to try to get a response of the newest, dare he say, victim. Everything he'd found so far suggested they wouldn't ever respond again. He'd half hoped that this little problem would be constrained to only his former student. He would never admit aloud that the continued mystery was exciting to behold.

He'd brought his discovery to the police who, quite unsurprisingly, had taken his work and dismissed it almost as quickly. Something that happened nearly a full century ago was apparently beneath their attention. The doctors had been a bit more keen on it, sending someone to dig through their own records in search of anything that might be useful. If anything had even survived that long, or been kept within the hospitals records. Jason didn't hope for much in that regard. Instead he'd poked and prodded the police for whatever details he could garner, and had come away with something at least somewhat useful.

The newest victim was David Lord. A prestigious sounding name for a rather dull man, married, no children. Known, apparently, for being somewhat of a unfaithful man. They'd found him in a local motel, the staff having tried to get the man to leave his rented room before finding him as he was. There was sadly no evidence that he'd been there at all, something about the security cameras no working. The police hadn't been too keen to give more than that. But Jason knew the local motel they were speaking about, one known for being out of the way and a common place for infidelity.

It would seem then, that he'd have to continue his own investigation into the matter. Someone had to know something, and he doubted that the staff had missed the man completely. If there was someone with him, as he suspected there was, then one of the staff would have had to have noticed. Why they hadn't said anything was a mystery as well, perhaps one that would answer a number of questions, but first things first. Jason had headed home than, taking a short nap before rousing himself once more. He didn't have any classes today, luckily, freeing him to focus on this newest interest. A quick breakfast, followed by getting himself ready for a day of questions and, hopefully, answers.

He gazed at himself in his hallway mirror, taking a moment to catalogue his own appearance. He was not a young man, not anymore, but some of that youthfulness seemed to have returned in the light of this mystery set before him. Dark hair was dusted with gray, the lines of his face marking the frowning brows of thought and the gentle smiles of life. Green eyes, alight with curiosity, with life, gazed back at him, giving him an almost wild look to his own reckoning. He was dressed business casual, slacks, a dress shirt, a suit jacket. It was his usual look, and it looked suitably professional enough that he hoped others would simply not think to question why he was poking his nose around.

Then he was away, to start the day and to visit the motel, seeking the answers he hoped would lead him to the truth of this seemingly random occurrence.

 

[brandijade]

The sky was pink in east, a bit darker in the west. Amy yawned and bounced down the road to the Murder Mansion. It wasn't exactly what she wanted to be doing on a Saturday morning, but she remembered her night locked in there, last year. She had nearly pissed her pants with fright. Since then, she had learned it was best to stay on Heather's good side. Give her what she wants, help her play her pranks on the Freshman pledges, the prettier the girl, the crueler the prank.

She knew this Brandi chick was going to get it bad. Not only was she smoking hot, but she had an attitude of indifference to Heather's leadership that couldn't help but provoke. Amy understood her perspective. Heather WAS a bitch. She WAS conceited beyond comprehension, and petty and malicious. But she was also President of the Sorority, and if she took shit from a freshman, anarchy would reign. Still, Amy wanted everyone to get along, please.

She parked in front of the house. It was run down and old, but in the morning light, it was less terrifying. Not that she wanted to stay any longer than it took. She got out and went up the front steps. She undid the padlock on the front door, and pushed it open. There was no sign of the girl.

"BRANDI!" she screamed. "GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!"

-------------------------------------------

The lights went out, all at once, and Brandi fell to the floor, trembling with pleasure, exhausted, panting. She lay there, trying to catch her breath in the darkness. She could just barely see a glimmer of light coming down the stairs. Everything had changed. She was Chosen. She was to be His bride, but first she would be His priestess, collecting the seed to bring him to this plane. She reached between her legs, finding her panties drenched and her pussy throbbing and sore from cumming again and again... or was it continuously? while she bathed in the light of his presence.

But it wasn't even his presence. It was just the tiniest bit of him that reached out through untold time and space, and touched her.

"BRANDI! I'LL FUCKING LEAVE YOU HERE!" came the voice from above. She clambered to her feet, slowly. Her legs like rubber.

"I'm coming," she called. She smiled, and began to drag herself up the stairs.

Amy stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the pink light of dawn, a cheap copy of the glow Brandi had been basking in below.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Amy said.

"I found the statue," Brandi said, grinning.

"What fucking statue?" Amy said.

"I thought you were here last year, weren't you?" Brandi said, puzzled. "The statue in the cellar? Your fucking story?"

"It's a story," Amy said. "There's no cellar."

Brandi just smiled the kind of smile only a girl who has spent the night making love to an actual God could smile.

"Whatever," Amy said. "We have the party with Sigma Alpha Epsilon tonight, and Heather wants all you little freshmen ready to pregame by eight."

"Right," Brandi said, not even remotely interested in the frat party.

"Are you ok?" Amy said again, concerned by the younger girl's state. It was like she was high, but not quite. More like she found Jesus or something.

"I'll be fine," Brandi said. "I just need to get some sleep."

Yes. Sleep, and then gather the ecstasy of these men.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

"Are you sure you're allowed to be asking me question?"

"Of course. I'm just trying to put the pieces together. Maybe you remember something that will help us figure out why he's in a coma."

Jason was silently exasperated, but kept up the genial smile and relaxed body language. It had been a bit of luck and a bit of patience that had him managing to catch one of the staff that had been working the night Mr. Lord had been here. All the better, it had appeared to be the one working the front desk. Less helpful was that the man seemed uncertain if he should be answering questions from a random man. But with a bit of prodding and poking, gentle assurance that he wasn't accusing anyone of a crime, he got the man to agree to some questions. A white lie, really, but surely the investigation could only be helped by his own questions.

"If you say so..."

"Try not to worry, this is purely for medical reasons."

"Right. Well... maybe make it quick. I have to get back to work."

"Of course. Now, do you remember anything odd about the night Mr. Lord came to the motel?"

"Um... not really. He's something of a regular. You know, he brings women around all the time. Enough that we even know him by name. He's got a preferred room and everything. The manager says it's not our problem what he does, so long as he pays."

"Indeed. You said he brings women with him. Did he bring one with him that night?"

"Yes. She was a bit younger than his usual, but he brought a woman along."

"Younger?"

"Yeah, maybe college age? Usually it's women closer to his age, you know, thirties or so. Now that I think about it, she seemed way more into him than they usually do. It's mostly just women trying to lose some stress, or a one night stand. The lady that night was weirdly into him, hanging off him, practically always touching him. Mr. Lord seemed just as surprised by it."

"You say it's odd that women are so physical with him?"

"Most women are just here to... uh..."

"To fuck?"

"Yeah..." The young man flushed red at that, perhaps not expecting someone to just come out and say it. For Jason though, it was just easier to get to the point than dance around the issue. "It's always Mr. Lord doing to the touching, and the women usually just put up with it. Lot of us here think the women are mostly those he pays. This woman though, she was way more keen to do the touching herself. Oh, she was hot, too. I was real jealous of Mr. Lord that night. Well... least till I found out he was in the hospital."

"Hm." This was the first mention of a woman being involved, at least possibly. Then again, he hadn't been given access to the police reports. They'd decided the investigation into what was happening had little impact on his medical diagnosis. Perhaps they'd assumed incorrectly. "Did either seem to have been doing drugs, or otherwise acting oddly beyond the... unusual physical contact?"

"Eh... no, I don't think so. The woman seemed like she knew what she was doing. Mr. Lord was just really into this woman."

"Did you happen to catch her name?"

"No. Just a lot of 'beautiful', 'sexy', and 'hot stuff'. Mr. Lord was just being his usual pervy self."

"Right. Well, thank you for your time."

"No problem."

Jason stepped away then, idly glancing at the room sealed off with crime scene tape. As much as he'd love to poke around on the off chance he'd notice something helpful, he doubted the police would have missed anything, nor would they let him in regardless. But he'd come away from this little jaunt with a bit more information then he had before. Perhaps even a crucial piece of the puzzle. Mr. David Lord had come with a college girl, and Phillip would definitely have the chance to run across similar women. He suspected some new form of drug, a psychadelic perhaps, and there was only one way to confirm his suspicions.

It was time to pay a visit to the frat house young Phillip belonged to.

 

[brandijade]

"Alright, sluts," Heather said. It was 8:20 pm, and the twelve new pledges were lined up in the sorority house's kitchen. "Drink!"

The vodka burned as it went down, but this was the fourth shot in twenty minutes, so Brandi was pretty numbed to it. There was no way to beat Heather, not right now, and the sixteen girls were lined up wearing heels and nothing else. They were going to be given outfits for the party. Brandi looked down the line. None of the girls was happy. Most were blushing at the snarky comments Heather had made about their bodies, humiliating them while they were vulnerable. Typical.

"Are you part cow, or something?" Heather said, zeroing in on Brandi's tits, again.

"Yes, Mistress," Brandi said. It was the only acceptable answer. Even so, Heather slapped her.

Then she wandered back to the door to the dining room.

"OK, sluts," Heather called. "Come on in and get dressed, we have a party to go to!"

Brandi was stumbling along with the others as they filed into the dining room. Spread out were the worst kind of fruit and vegetable costumes imaginable. Fully shaped, obscuring any femininity of the figure, brightly colored and ridiculous. The peach and tomato were already taken by the time Brandi was even in the room.

"Here you go, sweetie," Heather said. "You'll make a great potato."

"No...." Brandi said.

"Get dressed," Heather said. "Don't want to be late!" Then she smirked at Brandi. "I hope nobody mistakes you for a piece of shit."

Brandi scowled, but what could she do? She had wanted to be tri Chi, she wasn't going to back out now. Heather was a bully, simple as that. Of course some kind of humiliation was expected. The pledges had to prove that they could hack it before they were admitted to the sorority, but even the other seniors seemed afraid of Heather. Brandi would just have to take it until she found a moment to get her revenge.

The potato costume didn't cover her face, though, and it left her legs bare. That was enough, apparently. The first guy to hand her a red solo cup full of beer smiled at her, sympathetically. He was decent enough looking.

"Phillip Grayson," he said, holding his hand out. She could almost see his attraction, like a dim version of the statue's glow. Naturally, though, he was a little confused. "So what's the story with the outfit?"

"Heather George," Brandi said, and he chuckled. She heard her voice slurring. There had been two more shots before they left the sorority house to come here, and the last thing she needed was to drink beer. But that's what there was, and she was thirsty.

"Tri Chi?" he said. "And she's what? Trying to get us to go vegan?"

"She's just trying to show us what a bitch she can be," she said.

"Wow, I thought it was bad when we had to run the campus loop with socks on our dicks," he said, smiling sympathetically.

Collect his ecstasy. Prepare the way.

Brandi looked at him. She was usually pretty passive when it came to flirting, letting guys come on to her. Usually it was enough. Tonight, though, she was dressed as a potato. Tonight, she was drunk enough that standing was hard. Tonight, she had a God whispering in her mind, telling her to get this Phillip Grayson off.

"I think there's only one way to make this costume work," she said.

"Take it off?" they both said together. She laughed like it was the funniest thing ever, all the way up to his room. He helped her off with the potato costume, and she helped him take off his pants and soon he was thrusting between her legs as she lay helpless under him. It was good to get laid, but once he was in her, she felt Him. The glow seemed to fill the room. Phillip was just a horndog happy to get off with a drunk sorority girl. He was certainly no great lover, but He was there with her.

Bring him to the edge, He told her. Show him what real pleasure can be.

He was thrusting harder and faster, and she moaned, squeezing him and holding him. Then he started to jerk, and she knew. He poured into her, and everything disappeared but ecstasy and light.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey," she said, nudging him. "I'm stealing your Spice Girls T shirt."

He didn't budge. She was sort of relieved. She was badly hungover, and she didn't want to negotiate the t shirt. It fell far enough to cover her ass, and she wouldn't have to make her walk of shame in the potato costume.

"OK, well, see you later," she said, and then she left. She vaguely remembered kissing the guy before he was pushing her down on the bed, mounting her. Not that she was putting up a fight or anything, she'd been as horny as he, but it was what had happened after that stuck in her mind. The God From the Cellar had been there, and this time, it wasn't a dream. It wasn't a statue. There was an honest-to-God, flesh and blood cock inside her.

It had been a revelation. She could fuck anyone, she thought. Even the least interesting dude in the world would be a mind-bending sex God, as long as she had her connection to her real mind-bending sex God.

She grinned as she walked up the steps of the sorority house. Things were looking better and better.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

Jason's arrival at the frat house was, unsurprisingly, almost entirely unnoticed. The police had moved on by now, taking the investigation in other directions, and the fraternity members were somber yet surprisingly content to continue on with their lives. So content to continue on with their lives that apparently another party was in the works, or so the young man he found himself talking to divulged to him.

"You think it's wise to hold a party when one of your own is in the hospital?"

"Ah, you don't understand, sir. We're having a party specifically because he's in the hospital. Gotta keep the spirits up!"

The young man in question being Anthony Noverro, one of Phillip's various friends, and a bit more of the stereotypical fraternity member, largely concerned with partying, drinking and women. Jason didn't think much of the man, but it wasn't truly his place to pass judgement, nor could he honestly push the frat house of Sigma Alpha Epsilon to do anything they weren't going to do. A shame that half the members were already drunk, and therefore useless when it came to gathering information. Anthony was no better, clearly already indulging in a bit of day drinking.

"Listen, I've a question I'd like to ask, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course, prof. Watcha need? Drink?"

"No, thank you. I wanted to ask, the last party that Phillip was at, did you notice any drugs being sold?"

"Ah, no. Course not, sir. We don't have drugs around here." The sudden switch in demeanor, cagey and nervous, told him all he needed to know about that particular lie. It also wasn't his primary concern. The drugs they did have were probably just weed, and Jason had no interest in that. "Why would you think that?"

"Young man, I don't care about whatever recreational drug you might have squirreled away in the house. I want to know if there was any particularly hard drugs, something you haven't seen before or seemed out of place even at a party. Perhaps a young woman was passing them around or selling them?"

Anthony seemed surprised at the question, but also seemed to give it serious thought despite already being a bit tipsy. Jason couldn't hope for much, what could he truly remember from a party where he was probably drunk and high, but a longshot was better than nothing. Sadly, his fears were answered in the affirmative.

"Noooo... I don't remember anything like that. Just, you know... the usual stuff. Don't think any of the girls could if they wanted to, Heather wouldn't let something like that happen without taking a cut herself, and she isn't really quiet about stuff like that."

Jason knew Heather, most of the college did, faculty and student body. The unofficial ringleader of all those "popular", and likely one of the wealthiest trust fund students. Her father was an alumni, a real estate magnate, and donated a staggering amount of money regularly. It generally meant that, fair or not, Heather got away with just about anything she'd ever want to. The administration treated her with velvet gloves, anything to keep the money flowing, which meant punishments were light, if they happened at all. That the mover and shaker of the students was involved in drugs wasn't exactly a surprise, though he doubted she'd be involved in anything more dangerous than marijuana. Too much risk of daddy cutting her off otherwise.

Jason sighed and waved the man away, who happily darted off back to this most recent party. He could go talk to Heather, but honestly he'd rather not. She was an entitled young woman who'd likely demand something in return for the answers he wanted, if she knew anything useful at all. That lead to a stall in his personal investigation, the possibility of a new drug not gone, but somewhat lessened. Usually someone would try to spread that around as much as possible, make it known so they could sell as much of it as they could... unless they were testing it, refining it into something that wouldn't send people into a coma... but what possible chemicals could do something like that without simply killing someone?

Frustration, and Jason had no clue as to where to go from here. He supposed he could stake out the party, hope he spotted something out of place, but that seemed a long shot even to him. Another visit to the city's records then, to those old articles, to see if there was something he'd missed, some clue he hadn't picked up on the first time. Maybe that would be the break in the investigation he could finally take to the police with some certainty that he would be listened to.

 

[brandijade]

It was noon when Brandi woke up to Heather George twisting her hair and pulling her head up.

"OOOOWWWWWWW What the fuck?" she squealed.

"Watch your mouth, slut," Heather said. "When did you get back to the house?"

"I don't know," Brandi said, the abuse and the hangover combining to make this the worst day ever, ten seconds in. One look at Heather's glare made her dig deep. "It... the sun was just coming up."

"What are you wearing?" Heather snapped. It wasn't like she didn't give everyone shit for what they wore, but she didn't usually bother about what they slept in. She'd never, to Brandi's knowledge, woken someone up for this type of bullshit.

"A t shirt?" she answered. Was it not obvious?

"Where did you get it?" Heather snapped.

"From... the... the guy," Brandi said. With anyone else, she would have told the whole story, but Heather would never take an interest in her unless it was to dig for dirt.

"What guy?" Heather shook Brandi's head like she was going to wring her neck.

"Phillip!" Brandi yelped/ "Phillip Grayson, what does it matter?"

"Give it to me," Heather said. Her tone had changed. Still nasty, still full of malice, but there was something else. She was worried about something. She let Brandi sit up.

Brandi sat up and pulled the tee shirt over her head, and she heard a soft whistle. She was so hungover and focused on Heather she hadn't even noticed there was someone else in the room. Stratton Anderson, president of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, and Heather's boyfriend, was smirking at Brandi and eyefucking her naked body.

"God you're an asshole," Heather snapped at Stratton, who just gave her a wide, politician's smile and held his hands up, the picture of innocence. She turned back to Brandi. "Well, put some fucking clothes on, slut. What the fuck is the matter with you?"

Brandi stared at her for a second, and then looked around. There was no point in telling Heather she was naked because Heather had practically torn the Spice Girls tee shirt off of her. Stratton was leaning against her dresser, so she grabbed a tanktop and a pair of shorts from the dirty laundry and pulled them on. Heather was wondering how such a stupid whore even got into college, and Brandi just clenched her teeth.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Stratton said. He seemed more serious now that she wasn't naked.

"What happened when?" Brandi said.

"With Phillip," he said.

Brandi shrugged. "I... I mean, I was pretty drunk, so I can't really give you a blow by... uh... blow." Stratton grinned. Brandi flushed, and steam started coming out of Heather's ears. "Sorry. I just mean the details are pretty fuzzy. But, we hooked up. Why, is he off-limits or something?"

"Do you remember anything unusual happening?"

"No," Brandi said, but she felt the warmth inside her. The Lust from the Cellar was with her.

Prepare the way.

"We just... you know... did it," Brandi said. "What's going on?"

Stratton looked at Heather, who growled in frustration.

Taste his pleasure. Collect his release.

Brandi looked at Stratton. He was definitely hot in a silver spoon way. He surely used Summer as a verb and had stock portfolios and a trust fund. He had skin that had probably never seem a pimple, teeth that glowed in the dark, and eyes that made her want to get naked again. Also, he was so far off-limits she was risking her life even thinking about if he was attractive or not.

"If anyone asks, you only talked to him for a minute, and then you came back here, ok?" Heather said. It obviously wasn't a question.

"OK," Brandi said. "What's going on?"

"Just don't answer any questions," Heather snapped.

Then Stratton smiled and dumped her potato costume out of a shopping bag onto the floor. Heather handed him the t shirt which went in the bag, and they left.

After she showered and put on clean clothes, she knocked on Ana's door. Ana was about her best friend at tri Chi, another freshman who Heather picked on at least as bad as Brandi.

"You are like, the greatest slut that ever lived," Ana said, grinning and shifting over to make room for Brandi to sit with her. She had a cup of tea and had been doing something on her phone, but she zeroed in on Brandi as soon as she walked in. "You, like, literally fucked that guy's brain out."

"What guy?" Brandi said.

"You need me to tell you who you slept with last night?" Ana teased. "Phillip Grayson."

Brandi bit her lip. Technically, though, Ana wasn't asking her anything, so she wasn't technically breaking Heather's commandment.

"OK," she said. "But... what's up? I just had Heather AND Stratton Anderson giving me the third degree."

"You don't know?" Ana said, and leaned in close. "He was supposed to go golfing with his Dad this morning. His Dad shows up and he's passed out. So, he tries to wake him up, right? But he's like, totally... cataphonic?"

"What does that mean?"

"Like, he's non-responsive," Ana explained. "He's awake, but he won't say anything or do anything or... well, anything."

"Shit," Brandi said. And she felt a sudden rush of pleasure. Her God was in her, and it was all she could do not to moan. "They don't think...?"

"They're trying to keep it quiet, but, you know, they took him... somewhere. They're probably doing a blood test, and if there's anything in his system,"

"Right," Brandi said. If he had overdosed on something, it meant everyone from the President of the College to lowly freshmen were going to be stirred up. And if it came back to tri Chi, Heather wasn't going to be her normal cheerful self. If it wasn't an overdose though, if it really was Brandi....

This time, she let out a little gasp when He touched her. It was like he was sliding into her, except there was nobody, and nothing there.

"You ok?" Ana said, looking at her, worried.

"Yeah," Brandi said. Then she sighed. "Can you keep a secret?"

"You know I can," Ana said. "Spill."

"OK, remember the other night they made me spend the night at that Murder House?"

"Yeah," Ana said, a little puzzled.

And Brandi told her.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

It was nearing closing time at city hall when he finally ran across the clue he needed, one he'd hardly have thought to even count but for a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was an old newspaper clipping, at the height of the Great Depression, speaking of a raid conducted on a house on the outskirts of the city. Even Jason knew about it, it was a fairly common story around the college.

The Murder House.

There were dozens of stories about the place, and none of them really made much sense to him. Rumors of prostitution, assassins, a mafia hideout, a CIA safehouse, the list went on, all of them more outlandish than the last. There was little proof of any of them being true, or even remotely accurate. Still, one thing that all of them agree on was that someone had died there, and that something about the place had made it seem off putting. He'd never been to the place himself, there was little call to go out to an old dilapidated building on unkept private property. He knew too that many of the college kids went out there, the young men trying to impress young women with displays of courage. Some of the staff were sure as well that tri Chi used the place as a proving ground for new members, the hazing considered normal, mostly because rumor had it that Heather's father held the deed to the house and the land it sat on. If that were true, that would be a lot land to own and do absolutely nothing with.

Why?

Suddenly, things started clicking into place. What if Heather, and perhaps her father, were the ones making this strange new drug? It would make sense then that the students wouldn't be too keen on talking about it. Heather wielded quite a bit of influence among her peers, she'd easily be able to convince a vast majority of the student body to keep their mouths shut. She could also easily use the Murder House as a production facility, no one went out there unless they had a reason to and it would be perfect to hide an illegal drug farm. It made so much sense!

But he had no proof, and if the police were going to believe him, and going to move against the daughter of a very rich man, Jason would need something more than theories. So, it was another night of restless sleep, and waking up once more to the sound of his phone buzzing insistently. He picked up blearily, knowing he wasn't at his best and somewhat annoyed he was being woken up at four in the morning.

"Jason McCallum speaking... how can I help-"

"There's been another victim. Another college student."

Jason was suddenly wide awake, all thoughts of sleep banished in the face of yet another possible piece to the puzzle.

"Who?"

"Stratton Anderson."

Another well known name around the college. The president of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, the nominal leader of the influential boys around the school, and perhaps more famous for being the boyfriend of tri Chi's head of house. A mistake? Had Heather tested her experimental new drug on her boyfriend? Or maybe he'd stolen some of it, thinking it was harmless? Perhaps he'd found out too much, and this was just an easy way to tie up a loose end. Ideas swam in Jason's mind, but he'd little doubt that there was a thread here now, a trail he could follow. He just needed to find out more.

"I'll be heading to the frat house. I've a few questions I need answered. I promise I'll get to the hospital once I've checked in on a few things."

 

[brandijade]

David Lord was a grade A creep, but that's what Brandi had been looking for. She and Ana had come up with the plan together, and He had encouraged her with moments of bliss as they worked out the details. Then Ana had driven her to the mall. Dropped her off and then drove around to the food court and parked. Brandi walked to the food court, grabbed a grand milk bubble tea and sat at a table by herself.

She sipped her tea, checked her phone, sent texts that went unanswered, and sighed, in apparent frustration. She was wearing a cute miniskirt and a tank that showed off her body. She was texting Ana, but Ana wasn't texting her back. Her frustration grew. The tea was only half gone when David asked if he could sit.

"How late is he?" he asked.

"Late," she said, staring at him wide-eyed, a sullen pout on her lips.

"He must be out of his mind, letting a girl like you slip through his fingers," he said, giving her an appraising look that was probably supposed to be smooth. He leaned closer, whispered. "What was the plan?"

"He was going to take me to see the new Top Gun," she said, and sighed.

"Really?" the guy said. "I'd have thought you were going to a party. You're dressed so nice, nobody's going to be looking at you in the theater, you know?"

She giggled. He was a fucking scumbag. At the same time, there was no mistaking his intent, and it aligned perfectly with her own plans. She bit her lip and shrugged. "I guess I don't know where there is a party."

"We could party," he grinned at her. "I think we could have all kinds of fun together."

"Yeah?" she asked him.

He nodded. He stood. "Come on, baby."

"OK," she said, standing up, offering him her hand. "I'm Brandi."

"I'm Tom," he answered, and kissed her hand. The God in the Cellar send a surge of energy through her that made her blush and gasp. Tom grinned at her reaction, and probably that was when he decided to skip the preliminaries. They went out to his car, and he took her straight to the motel.

"You're such a beautiful girl," he whispered at a red light. Then he kissed her until the guy behind laid on the horn to tell him the light was green. The last few blocks, his hand was making its way up her thigh. She just giggled and oooh-ed and played the little bimbo.

When he led her into the lobby, she stopped.

"Is this a motel?"

"That's right," he said. "You wanted to party, didn't you?"

She snuggled up to him, running her hands over him until the desk clerk gave them the key card and told them to enjoy their stay. As soon a s they were in the room, she made her move, pushing him down on the bed and climbing on him. She cut off his laugh by kissing him.

Prepare the way! the voice in her mind told her, and the pleasure she felt was beyond kissing.

When he put his hands on her ass, she slipped off the bed, opening his pants. He looked down at her, smiling, a little uncertain. Maybe not that many girls actually took the initiative with him. She slid her hand into his pants, closing her fingers around his cock.

"Is it ok if I just suck it the first time?" she asked.

As long as you gather his climax.

"The... the first?" Tom said.

"Yeah, it's for my sorority," she said. "I have to finish a guy with just my mouth. Is that cool?"

He chuckled. "Oh yeah. That's cool."

She knelt in front of him and took him in her mouth. He was sweaty, funky, the way older guys get when they don't take care of themselves. It didn't matter. The Lust that was Waking made his cock the sweetest thing she had ever tasted. She slid her lips up and down his shaft, and she was rewarded with waves of pleasure that made her moan.

In a few minutes, the glow was filling the room, filling her soul, and Tom was filling her mouth with his cum. Finally, she sat back on her heels. She was still panting, and she saw him staring off into the distance.

"Tom?" she said softly. Nothing. She shook his knee. No reaction. She stood and waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked, and then kept staring. "Will he be alright?"

He is better than alright, the answer came. He is in a place of bliss. The joy you felt in that brief moment, is all he knows right now, but this is his choice.

Brandi left the room. Ana was waiting to pick her up.

"What happened," she said.

"It happened to him, too."

"Shit, dude," Ana said. "You better be careful."

Brandi nodded. Ana was right, she did need to be careful. At the same time, the joy He sent her was addictive. Even now, with the taste of cum still in her mouth, she was fantasizing about her next. And she had an idea who it might be.

"Are you about ready to get Heather back for all her bullshit?" Brandi said.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

Jason arrived once more at the frat house looking perhaps more disheveled than his normally put together appearance. But the trail of questions was right there, and he needed to know the answers, to find the truth of this whole affair as quickly he could. Even if it would ultimately lead to nothing, at least for him, the idea that the cause behind these comas would go unanswered for was somehow abhorrent. It was his luck that the police were too busy combing through Stratton's room to bother with keeping him away from the house, or even stopping him from questioning the college students loitering around on the front lawn and holding hushed conversations between themselves. As it was, there wasn't even any police keeping an eye on anyone, simply trusting they'd stay put as they searched the house themselves. Jason managed to grab the attention of one, someone he couldn't remember, but then there were so many over the years. He didn't bother introducing himself, jumping instead to the most important matters.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Uh, we were having a party, you know, the usual, trying to keep things going since Phillip went all... blank faced or whatever. Invited all the other frats and sororities, had all the drinks we could want. People hooking up with people, nothing crazy, just a little fun."

Jason made note of the fact that the police had apparently rounded up everybody who'd been at this party, which seemed to be nearly everybody who was somebody. He noted a number of different houses, each huddling up among themselves and holding whispered conversations. Perhaps most telling was tri Chi's little huddle, Heather seemingly snapping orders at her little contingent of young women, though the sheer panic on her face was near palpable. Popular or not, daddy's girl or not, there were some things that couldn't be pushed under the rug without pissing off someone.

"Yeah, then maybe an hour ago Kent went up to check on Stratton, since you know, he'd scored with some chick, and found him. We tried waking him up, the dance floor was getting pumped, but... well, he was all strung out. Didn't respond to anything."

"I remembered Phil was all mindless like that, so I dialed the cops. Figured if they were worried about Phil being like that, maybe Stratton was in a bad way."

Jason absorbed the information without comment, eyes narrowing in concentration. So the younger Anderson had a run in with another college girl, and had ended up the same as the previous two victims. That meant little on it's own, but there was now a common link. Twice was a coincidence, but three times was a pattern, a pattern that perhaps could be made concrete.

"You said Stratton had gone up to his room with a girl. Who?"

"Oh, I don't know, she was hot though. Really bangin, like..." The young man leaned forward, as if Jason cared to keep whatever he said a secret. " Better than Heather even. Must be why she was so willing to go for Heather's man."

"And Phillip, did he hook up at the party the day before he was found?"

The small group of men all went near blank in the face as they combed their drink addled minds for some recollection of the night in question. Jason almost gave up until one suddenly brightened, mouth forming into a oh of recognition.

"Hey! Yeah, now that I think about it. Which one was it... the potato I think, right?"

"Yeah, the potato! Phillip was real into that girl!"

"Potato?"

"Yup, potato. Heather makes the girls dress up as vegetables and fruits and whatever whenever she's feeling challenged. Kinda lame if you ask me, but a lot of the guys hook up with em anyway. Cause you know only the hotties get into tri Chi. Now that I think about it... wasn't the girl Stratton had from tri Chi too?"

Jason had heard enough to jump to some conclusions, and he was just as quick to realize that he had enough to at least threaten the ringleader of tri Chi sorority house. He spun on his heel than, stalking towards the group of young girls with all the determination of a guided missile. The boys behind him went deadly quiet, as if suddenly realizing the shit they'd just called down on their sister house, a hush that quickly spread among the other groups that clung together in groups. Heather saw him coming, started to shrink away before steeling herself and instead standing tall, putting some of the pride on full display despite the panic he still saw in her eyes.

"Hello, Doctor McCallum, what can I do for you?" Ever the polite young woman, when facing someone with real authority. He'd heard from multiple students that she wasn't nearly so proper around her fellow students.

"You can start by telling me what you know about young women leaving men comatose. After that, I might have more pointed questions."

"I don't know anything about that, sir. If I did, I promise I'd-"

"Heather Williams. I promise you, if you don't spill whatever secrets your hiding right now, I will personally drag you to the police, ensure that they arrest you for whatever charges can be brought against you for hiding information during a police investigation, and then make absolutely sure that you father can't save you. So I ask again, what do you know?"

He saw her hesitate, saw her eyes darting around to the other girls that stood with her, and saw her note that none of them were keen to come to her rescue. It was only a moment more before she clearly decided that her own skin was worth more than whoever she was covering for, because the next moment she was spilling her guts. Everything she knew, about a newcomer to the sorority, about what she'd done.

"-and that fucking slut backstabbed me, after everything I did to help her! She fucked my boyfriend! MY BOYFRIEND!" Heather was red in the face, rage and panic clearly leading to her forgetting her normally prim and proper mask. "And then she leaves him a fucking vegetable! What the fuck am I supposed to do with some braindead moron who'd stick his dick into crazy!"

"Who, Miss Williams?"

"That fucking slut Brandi!"

"And where would she go?" He didn't recognize the name, but he usually took a month or two to identify the ones whose names were worth remembering, or to memorize the names of those who came to him for mentoring. The final pieces were falling into place regardless. He didn't know if Heather was the true ringleader and just throwing someone else under the proverbial bus, or if this new girl was the source of all this. In the end, he would have his answers, then he would drag what he'd found before the police and have them handle cleaning up the mess. With the drug in hand, the doctors might even be able to find a cure.

"I don't fucking know! She took off before I could get my hands on the little slut!"

It was the flicker of movement that gave the young woman away. Another member of tri Chi, huddled with her "sisters", clearly uncomfortable. She'd started at the question, withdrew further into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. She might have gotten away with it, if she didn't fling every time Heather opened her mouth to snarl angrily about this Brandi. This one he did know, Ana Kendricks, smart as a whip, and even though she was a freshmen, the science faculty were having a field day with her. Apparently she was something of a prodigy, when she could be bothered to care about anything other than her social status.

"Miss Kendricks? Do you know where Brandi is?"

She shrunk even further in on herself as all her sisters suddenly stepped away from her, attention suddenly on her. A moment of quiet, so still that one could hear a pin drop, and then Ana broke, practically babbling the information that Jason needed most of all under the scrutiny of so many others.

Telling him where Brandi had gone to hide herself from the aftermath of the party.

 

[brandijade]

Ana was horrified about a lot of things.

She was supposed to be studying biomechanical engineering, not dressing up as a banana and getting plastered at frat parties. Joining tri Chi had seemed like a chance to be popular for once. Guys who would have fled from a girl with an IQ like hers were moths to the flame of the greek letters she almost always wore. It was what made her endure Heather.

And Brandi was different. Brandi thought it was cool that Ana was smart. She thought it was sad that Ana had to act dumb just to get a guy. Even the other science geeks found Ana a bit intimidating, as if being smarter than they were made her somehow unfeminine. Yes, Brandi could be a bit of a slut. Yes, she was maybe as vain as Heather, but she wasn't malicious.

All that was tolerable. But now, she believed she was the chosen of some sex god in a haunted house. Even that was ok, but she had apparently put three guys into some kind of catatonic trance just by fucking them. No, the one guy she had just given a BJ. And Stratton... fuck, he was sexy... Stratton she had gone after on purpose. To get at Heather.

It had worked like a charm, but it scared the crap out of Ana. She was a scientist at heart, and she believed the world answered the laws of physics, chemistry and biology. She did not believe in statues in the basements of old houses giving people magic sex powers, any more than she believed that supreme executive authority was derived from a farcical aquatic ceremony. Yet, the fact was that the last three men Brandi had sexed up all fell into the same sort of trance. And while the second had been as an experiment, the third had been to hurt someone.

So when Dr. McCallum called her out personally, she froze. And when he said Brandi's name, she broke.

--------------------------------------------------------

Brandi was bent over Stratton's desk, panties around her knees, his cock pounding into her like a jackhammer.

Gather his ecstasy, my love. That was a new element. My love.

"I love you, too," she moaned.

"You're crazy, bitch," Stratton groaned, not seeming to mind. The light was almost blinding, and she shut her eyes as Her God flooded her with almost unbearable pleasure. Then she felt the hitch in Stratton's thrust, the gasp as he saw the light. She felt his cock swell, and burst, shooting into her.

The way is opening, my toy. Come to me.

--------------------------------------------------------

After spending most of the day wondering how she was going to separate Stratton from Heather and from his boys, she had gone to the party. The whole Greek system was there, and everyone was getting wasted. She felt his eye on her. She had dressed to draw attention, to show everyone that Heather was no longer the hottest of them all.

So when Stratton was looking at her, she smiled, and walked up to him. Let them see. Let Heather know exactly what she had done. Heather had a rich family and her sorority, but Brandi had a fucking God backing her up.

"I feel dizzy," she told Stratton. She hadn't had anything to drink, but frat boys responded to drunk girls. And He was making her knees weak with lust, the throbbing glow in her pussy telling her he approved.

"Come on," Stratton said, taking a quick glance around. Heather was busy haranguing that smart chick about something, so he and Brandi slipped away without Heather noticing. The half dozen or so of his bros who saw it go down could keep their mouths shut.

------------------------------------------------------

Stratton's cock slipped out of her, and he sat heavily on the recliner he had in his room. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he sat there, pants around his ankles, cock still stiff, but starting to droop, covered with their mingled fluids. He stared through her, his mouth hanging open. She pulled her panties up, catching her breath, looking at him. A vegetable. She giggled. Too bad she didn't have the potato costume.

Come to me.

She gave a little moan as He prodded her. She had barely finished cumming, but his touch still made her ache. He was turning her into a proper slut, she thought. But it was the best thing she'd ever experienced.

Stratton's car keys were on the desk, and she kissed him once more. He gave a soft moan, but he didn't come out of the stupor. She headed back down, and ran into Anthony Noverro on his way up with some girl from a different sorority.

"Hey," she said. "You should check on Stratton. He seemed a little out of it."

She was willing to bet Anthony would screw the girl he was with before he checked on Stratton, but it didn't matter. Two minutes later, she was behind the wheel of a Jag, adjusting the seats and the stereo, cum leaking out of her onto the pristine upholstery. She felt a throb of pleasure and smirked. Then she put it in gear and tapped the gas.

It wasn't exactly the car she'd have chosen for the long dirt road that led to the House where her God Slept, but it was what she had, and she'd make do.

Forty minutes later, she was in the basement. The car was parked in front. The doors had been unlocked. In the basement, everything was the same, but somehow not. At first she thought the difference was her, but then she noticed the statue had moved. The doors of its closet could no longer close. Not quite. As if something had dragged it forward, just an inch.

She touched the magnificent stone cock, and the glow overwhelmed her.

Prepare the way, my Chosen. My Queen. Together we can bring this pleasure to the world.

How long was she there, pleasuring her God? How long was she submerged in the light and bliss of his touch?

She couldn't begin to guess. Had the candles burned down? Had a minute gone by? An hour? A century? She was trembling, barely able to think. She felt sluggish and weak. Was this how her lover's had felt?

"I can't serve you if I'm a vegetable," she whispered, and felt a soft throb.

Then she heard a board creak upstairs.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

The drive to the Murder House had been an interesting ordeal. His car was by no means meant for off roading, and while the road to the building did exist, it was so overgrown and unkempt that it might as well have not. Some idle part of his mind wasn't surprised, the house had been abandoned for decades if rumor was to be believed. The perfect place to hide out, which one might suppose meant it was a terrible place to hide. Surely the cops would have figured out the same, but in his experience forethought and panic didn't often pair together. His first sight of the building didn't inspire confidence, and Jason couldn't believe anyone would want to willingly go into it for any reason, college pranks or otherwise.

It was dilapidated and rundown, making it a miracle of some kind that it was standing at all. The loud creak of the wood under his shoes spoke to the rotting of the wood, the fragile nature of the house. Yet stepping through the door, Jason swore he felt some sort of the strength within the building, as if it stood the test of time for some greater reason than mere good architecture. He could see the signs of recent disturbance, as if someone had moved through the room recently. By all accounts that was accurate, given the Jaguar parked outside, but there was no sign of the so called Brandi within the entry hall, or even the entire bottom floor. But there was a door ajar, the dimmest of light coming from the opening, leading to what he could only guess would be the basement. The brief thought of calling out was quickly dismissed. There was no telling how dangerous the young woman was, given the things she'd apparently done.

Instead Jason took the moment to center himself, to take a deep breath, button the suit jacket up, straighten his appearance. Confidence, surety, the need to present a figure of authority to someone who was likely panicking. Then it was opening the door, taking that first step down the stairs, then another and another. Then emerging into the room, eyes taking in the sight of that young woman, kneeled in front of a stone statue whose features seemed deliberately vague. The candles in the room burned low, sending an eerie dance of shadows across the whole space, leaving even young Brandi an almost sinister air. Yet all the same, Jason couldn't help the small smile, the sudden rush of excitement and satisfaction. Here it was, the answer to all his questions.

"Miss Brandi, I assume? I'd have used your full name, but I'm afraid I don't think I have you in any of my classes."

 

[brandijade]

Brandi tried to pull herself together, but her mind felt sluggish. Was she hungover? Drunk? She had been down here, with Him, as long as she could remember. The rest was just preparation. It was like being caught in a tide, wearing herself out trying to fight it instead of letting it carry her. And someone was here. She could hear footsteps above, moving around. Had the police come already? Or was it Heather? Or some of Stratton's frat brothers, come to take some sort of horrible revenge? Fear made her heart race. Her breath quickened, her senses sharpened.

Later, she would wonder if fear was what saved her from drowning in the Sleeping One's lurid glow. She seemed to snap back into herself as the footsteps began to descend. She looked around frantically for a weapon, and when she heard the voice, she turned to see. Not Heather. Not a cop, or a frat brother. An older man, soft, simply dressed in that way that passes for professional in academic circles, and generally... comfortable. She frowned. Why was this comfortable man here? Who was he, and how did he know her name?

A professor. He taught classes, but none that she took.

"Brandi Jolie," she said.

Prepare the way.

She smiled and held out her hand. She was still wearing the tight tank top and tiny skirt that she had put on to seduce Stratton. She still had curves and moves. Surely she could tempt this soft, comfortable, older man with her body. And when he succumbed to temptation, he would be in a trance, like the others.

"What brings you all the way out here?" she asked, curiously, her body moving sensually, slow as a snake uncoiling, stretching herself, giving him a preview of what lay beneath her skimpy clothes. "How did you know my name?"

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

"Miss Jolie, then. Doctor Jason McCallum, a pleasure to meet you."

The young woman seemed remarkably calmer than he'd expected. She was dressed in a manner that suggested she'd been at the party, and certainly a manner that would suggest she'd seduced Stratton. He found himself pausing at the sight of her, noting the way her clothing hugged her frame, showed off the curves of her body in excellent detail. Almost immediately he found himself frowning at the thought, how had that gotten there? Not once before had he ever thought of a student in that manner, hadn't even considered it. Why would that start now with someone who was more than likely a criminal, and apparently eager enough to put someone in a coma without restraint? Still, he managed to avoid losing track of his thoughts, realigning upon Brandi once more.

"I think you know what's brought me here. As for your name, well, it seems you're causing quite a stir around the city, aren't you?"

He took her hand, perhaps an inadvisable course of action given the circumstances. But as skin touched skin, he felt a sudden warmth flood through him, felt his breath hitch in his throat. For a moment his vision seemed to swim and sway, only to focus once more. This time, though, as he regarded the woman before him, he found himself fixated upon her. The way her breathing pushed against the tank top, the way she seemed to stretch seductively towards him, the smile that seemed almost like she was suddenly very interested in him. But that couldn't be the case... could it?

"I didn't expect you'd still be around, if I'm being honest. Nor why such a... pretty, young woman would involve herself in something like the drug trade..."

There was the curious lack of drug paraphernalia, no way to produce anything remotely like a drug within the basement. That was enough to have him peering more deeply around the room, noting the odd book that seemed to have been left in pride of place upon some sort of pedestal. It was a struggle to drag his attention from Brandi, the subtle movements of her chest, the slight sheen upon her lips, but he did so regardless, humming slightly as he brushed passed the woman to step closer to the strange tome.

"What's this? Is that... latin?"

 

[brandijade]

Dr. Jason MacCallum looked at her with desire, but there was more to it. There was suspicion, there was restraint. She had only dealt with men whose lust was almost their entire being until now - Phillip, Tom and Stratton had all been more than eager to have her, but Dr MacCallum was holding himself back. It wasn't that she couldn't see the glow of lust in him, but that it was murky. Even the candles seemed to dim.

She gave a gasp as the Lust poured His light into her. She breathed hard, her chest rising and falling under her skimpy top. She bit her lip as she looked at him. When he spoke, her brow knit in confusion. Why would she know why he was here? What kind of stir was she creating around the city? Then her eyes widened. He knew. How could he know? What did he know?

She looked back quickly, at the statue, as if it might hold some answer for her, but it had no face. It wasn't any man, it was every man. In the mind of the Lust that Slept in the Cellar, she was to pleasure ALL men. Who they were didn't matter, so long as they came inside her, one way or another. It was revolting, but at the same time, thrilling. And while it made everything simpler, she knew it would make things much, much harder.

The next thing he said confused her even more.

"Drug trade?" she said. "What are you talking...?"

Then it hit her. He thought she was selling drugs, and that her lovers were in comas because they had overdosed or something. But he was a psychology professor, not a policeman. And he was walking towards the book, which had been left open since her last visit. She slipped between him and the altar, closing the book behind her. She was practically sitting on the altar, and almost touching him.

"Please," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

As she placed herself between him and the book, leaning back against the strange plinth it was placed upon, he found it hard to drag his eyes from her. He found his lips suddenly too dry, absentmindedly wetting them as he stopped to deal with the young woman blocking his path. Was the book somehow personal to her, some secret she didn't want to share? Perhaps she was an artist in the strange, given the statue that seemed adorned with some phallic ornament. There was some Freudian remarks he could make about that, some fascination with the sexual nature of humanity. Or it could just be an odd choice in artwork. Who was he to truly say?

"I'm sure you didn't, Miss Jolie. Yet the matters remains that you did hurt people."

He'd meant to place his hand comfortingly on her shoulder, provide an easy smile, and maybe have her confess her crimes. Then he could escort her to the proper authorities and the whole matter could be dealt with. What he didn't expect was the sudden wave of heat that shot through him, seemingly coming from her to him. He could almost feel himself hardening as his mind suddenly filled with images. Of hoisting her onto the altar, plunging himself into her as she moaned in pleasure. Of her kneeling on the ground before him, mouth around his cock as she eagerly tended to him. Of her bouncing upon him, impaling herself on his shaft as she cried out in pleasure, breasts bouncing free of her tank top.

Then he was pulling away, breathing heavily, blinking away the sudden rush. He realized he'd snatched his hand away, had taken a step back in surprise and increasing the distance between them. Another moment before he noticed how that might look to her, yanking away from Brandi without any warning after barely touching her.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me. I'm feeling rather... strangely..."

 

[brandijade]

Brandi frowned as he pulled his hand away. For a moment, her mind had been flooded with images of his fantasies, and then it stopped, leaving her breathless.

"Don't fight it," she whispered. He was feeling strangely? Maybe he had just forgotten what it was like to feel horny. She stepped closer to him, taking back the distance he had put between them.

"Who is it that you think I hurt?" she said. "And how? What drugs do you think I'm selling?"

She caught his hand again, put it back on her shoulder.

"I don't know anything about drugs, or hurting people," she whispered. "All I've done is give people what they want."

Then she knelt in front of him. She looked up at him, and her eyelids fluttered in ecstasy as He rewarded her. She shivered, whimpered softly, and then looked back at the professor. She smiled a sultry, sweet smile at him. She pulled her to up to just below her nipples, giving him a glimpse of her bare underboob. Her fingers played across her chest, her nipples visibly stiffening.

"What do you want me to do, Doctor?" she purred.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

"Don't fight it."

Her whisper was almost a command, a resonate tone within his skull, a beckoning pull at something base deep within himself. Her words right after... he could see her lips form them, knew she'd said something but for the life of him the sound never came. His eyes stood transfixed instead, seeing her bridge the gap distance between them, felt her take his hand once more and place it upon her shoulder. Felt the rush of heat, but now there was not fantasies to flood his mind. Instead, it was like the world shrank around him, until all was her. She knelt, and only then did he notice his hand was on her shoulder, and was it just his imagination, or did it feel like HE was pushing her to her knees?

Was he? The lines in his mind were blurring, this strange cloud fogging his mind.

"What do you want me to do, Doctor?"

The purring of a cat that had caught the canary came through in her voice. Something told him he should be wary of her, he should break away, keep her far from himself and reject any of her brazen advances. But he was no longer thinking clearly, logic and reason giving way to the sudden desire that like lightning surged through his body. If he hadn't already grown hard at the fantasies that had assaulted him, the strange warmth that clouded everything, he would have then. The sight of her, the salacious young woman who so eagerly displayed herself for him, hinted at her form, tease and tempted with her every action.

"I... I don't..."

Still, his mind was reeling, uncertain, yet no longer resisting the possibility.

 

[brandijade]

Brandi couldn't help smiling as the professor stared down at her. He already looked like he had almost broken, and she had barely touched him. Sure, there was a touch of fear there, a healthy serving of confusion in his open mouth. But mostly, it was lust. He glowed, and behind her, the statue glowed. And any doubt that he was into this was dispelled when she looked straight ahead and saw the tent in his slacks.

"Oooh, Doctor," she cooed, not having to fake her excitement. What the professor had in his pants would be nothing next to His, naturally, but for a mortal, he was blessed. She caressed him through the pants, feeling the heat in it, and the hardness, straining against fabric. She moaned again as He touched her inside.

Gather his ecstasy. Prepare the way.

She was breathing fast and deep, her chest rising and falling.

"Please, Doctor," she moaned. "Take it out. Let me see it."

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

What she was saying was nonsense. It had to be, there was no way she should be acting the way she was. Yet still, he could find nothing insincere in her mannerisms, no falsehoods in her seeming excitement and desire. The feel of her, fingers sliding along his length through the fabric, sent shivers up his body, sent a newfound need into his mind. He could see the desperate rise and fall of her chest, the moaning caress of her voice against his ear. Logic was swiftly falling to want, want of a forbidden fruit, want to this woman kneeling before him in servitude.

"If... If you insist."

Something was screaming at him again, screaming at him to push from himself away from her. But it went ignored, dying away with a whimper as his fingers fumbled with his belt, the buttons of his pants, and finally, blessedly, freeing his turgid member from it's prison of cloth. Far from a relief from the pounding in his blood, it only fueled his want of the woman before him, only made him realize that he'd had to remove his hand from her shoulder to free himself and he somehow found that distasteful. He wanted to reach forward again, grasp her shoulder once more, feel that pleasant warmth spread through him. All the same, his eyes found her lips, and once more a burst of fantasy, the image of her lips wrapped around his cock, bobbing back and forth until he spent himself upon her tongue.

His breathing was ragged, eyes feverish as he stared down at her, and it almost felt like he heard someone else's voice as he spoke.

"Is that what you want, Miss Jolie? Do I excite you?"

 

[brandijade]

Brandi watched him opening his pants with fascination. She was breathing hard already, having done literally nothing to exert herself, but her God, the Lust was so close. He was glowing, the doctor was glowing. Between the two of them she felt like she was going to burst into flames.

"Is that what you want, Miss Jolie? Do I excite you?" he asked her. Her eyes jumped to his face, wide, and her lips parted. Had that been the Dr McCallum or Him? Or was He speaking through McCallum? Did it matter?

Prepare the way. She felt His touch inside her. It was impossible to ignore. It drove every other thought from her mind. All that mattered was that there was a cock in front of her, a flesh and blood cock. There would be time to figure out what had just happened later. Now, she only needed to serve His purposes.

"Oooh yesss, Doctor McCallum," she moaned. She leaned towards him, her lips parting. The tip of his cock touched her lip, and her tongue slipped out to caress it. Her eyes didn't leave his. "I get so horny for older men. And you've got such a beautiful cock."

She slid the head of it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back with pleasure as He rewarded her with his touch. She whimpered with giddy excitement as she started to bob her head, slurping on McCallum's cock.