The Unnamed adventures of Roger Weaver

The Unnamed adventures of Roger Weaver

Chapter 7

     The Story The Authors
So through the underground passageway Jake ran giggling. The Toothbitch ran after Jake, screaching and waving a cat o' nine tails. Dr. Smack ran after the Toothbitch, laughing maniacally and flapping his raincoat. Mr. Tickles ran after Dr. Smack, dragging the Iron Sausage with him. The vortex closed itself quietly. Meanwhile, Thing One and Thing Two had led Anita, all crusty with dried lemon curry sauce, to the the cell where Roger, the Cat Without a Hat and Old Mr. Boar were still awaiting a rescue. And just when you thought you could not keep track of anymore characters, who should show up out of the blue but that toothless old psycho hillbilly, Grandma Pearl! cuddles

Now... Lest the dear Reader (that's you, sweetums) suspect us of so overwhelmingly cold and savage an act as the forgetting of Anita, let us return to her predicament. Our shapely heroine stands currently beneath a Mr. Neptune brand custom showerhead, scrubbing vigorously away at every squasre surface inch of her well-tanned epidermis, as the last of the deadly lemon curry swirls harmlessly away down the drain.
Outside the bathroom she's so conveniently found (it's Cardinal Richelieu's private bathroom, of course, replete with a bidet full of holy water), that tender emembrane, i.e. the meningile wall between reality and Jake's nightmare (in all it's ill-directed lust) has finally been rent in twain...
Dirty old men in raincoats stalk the underground passageways of Inquisition Central, goosing altar boys and exposing themselves to pious nuns...
Persons old and young find new sets and unimaginable combinations of sexual organs sprouting randomly from all over their bodies, the backs of their heads, the crooks of their knees, the cavernous interiors of the what used to be nostrils, between their toes even...
And with this bounty of new equipment, so to speak, comes the urge to learn how to use it, which takes practice, lots and oodles of practice, and so....

And so it is amidst the ensuing orgy that a breathless Jake burst in on Anita as she was towelling herself off after her shower.

The funny thing about Anita was that she had alot of strange little phobias and anxieties. One of her worst fears was to be walked in on while towelling off after a shower. So profound was her fear that she kept a twelve gauge shot gun on a gun rack near the shower. When the uncouth and unsuspecting Jake burst in on her, Anita had grabbed the gun and shot Jake dead before she even realized who he was. cuddles
She walked towards him crying as she came her eyes blood shot red she touched his arm hoping he would awake but he lay there dead his flesh white as a ghost. Modesty Ashbeck
Jake felt himself leave his body and hover over it, every detail of the room crystaline in its brilliance. He could hear the last gurgle of the last few drops of lemon curry infused water slither down the gold plated drain. Every uneven grain of the tile. The play of the light from the cherub sconces on the sink fixtures. The weave of the fabric of Cardinal Riechlieu's majestic purple bathrobe hanging on the door by a nail from the True Cross. He could make out every tiny hair and pore on Anita's naked back as she cautiously examined his blasted carcass.
Carcass? YIKES!!!
It was then that Jake began to become aware of his own weightlessness. The ethereal nature of his being. He sent careful tendrils of his consciousness out to the places where his body had been and came up empty. He was free. He was free from his mortal bonds. Unleashed from his prison of flesh. He could do anything now. With a quick exertion of his will he passed right through the door and out into hallway. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! Jake shot himself through the walls of the caverns. Without any effort at all he could see all and be everywhere at once. And so Jake once again returned to the Cardinal's private bath. Anita was sitting on the floor leaning on the bidet. She was crying. A thick pool of hardening blood was forming out from underneath the corpse that had once encased and entrapped him. He was free. Anita was sad. He wanted to comfort her. Anita was crying. Anita was still naked.
Every heaving sorrowful sob caused the pert little nipples of Anita's breasts to quiver slightly. In his hyperaware state Jake could feel every tear as it slid from Anita's cheek to her belly and down to tropics of his still as yet unfulfilled desires. The week spent under the Tooth Bitch's nefarious tutelege had not been utterly in vain. And there was still onething he needed to do before he shuffled off this mortal plane and into the light. He grinned inwardly. Anita was unclothed and unaware. He had no body for her to resist. This has possibilities he thought.
Pulling his consciousness up to its full height Succubus Jake drew himself back to pounce on his helpless prey. Without a tongue, without a voice he threw up a hearty laugh and sprung on Anita.
Only to misjudge the distance and his own lack of corporealness to pass through Anita, the imported Italian tile and the floor itself.

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