Chapter 18: The Rescue

Detective Aaron Bilson woke up to find himself in bed. He felt weird, like he wasn’t all there. A female form rose from a nearby chair and approached him.

“Mom?” he asked, confused.

She sat next to him. “You’ve finally figured it out, master.”

He snapped back to full consciousness. “Eudora. You ... why do you look like...” Upon smelling her perfume, his mind flashed back to a defining moment from his childhood: He was sitting on his mother’s bed, looking at an old photograph of her. “You’re so pretty, Mommy,” he praised her.

He returned to the present. “ ... like my mother?” He looked Eudora up and down, and then recoiled from her. “I fucked you, and you look like my mother!?”

“Your greatest fantasy, master,” she replied, stroking his face with her gloved hand. “Trust me, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands. “No ... no...”

She stood back up. “Bad news: the doctors couldn’t do anything for your penis. Your co-worker chewed it up good before I could stop her. I told the doctors it was an attack by a stray dog; a shepherd.” She grinned at the joke.

Eyes wide, Bilson lifted the sheets. He could see bandages around his crotch, but nothing to indicate that he had anything left down there anymore.

“NOOOOO!!!!”

I told Demie about Dianna’s visit, and her warning for us to stay away from her.

“Yes!” Demie performed the fist pull of success, and then saw me looking at her. “She was going to be a problem otherwise,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“Time to celebrate!” she said as her clothes disappeared. Soon she was riding my hard cock to a shattering mutual orgasm.

My life, as crazy as it was, settled down to a dull roar. Demie was home sometimes, away others, and Kate filled in as my anal sex girlfriend during the latter times.

Monday and Hepzibah were still an item, and he was looking better, not that he had ever looked healthy in the first place, holed up in that stinky apartment playing video games all the time.

A couple weeks later I got a call from an unknown number. As usual, I let it go to voicemail because fuck those fucking robocalls. After a minute my phone notified me that they had left a voicemail. I entered my password and waited for the usual robotic voice telling me the IRS was coming for me if I didn’t give them my banking information.

“Hello? Hello, Tom?”

I sat up. That was Eudora, Demie’s mother.

“Damnit, I heard your voice. Why aren’t you answering me? Tom! This infernal gadget ... Look, I’m at 4356 Kent Avenue, apartment 304. Please come as soon as possible, and bring Demie. I’m ... not going anywhere ... also, please don’t call this number back.”

Luckily, Demie was home, watching TV. She just couldn’t get enough of Friends re-runs. She said Joey and Chandler reminded her of her brother. She paused the show and I replayed the voicemail for her.

She looked serious. “Let’s get going.”

We didn’t know if we should buzz for entry, but Eudora had given instruction not to call her back and we didn’t see any other way in. Within a few seconds we heard her through the intercom: “Hello?”

“It’s us,” Demie replied.

“Oh, thank Satan ... come up.” Then the door buzzed and we were in.

The apartment door opened as we approached and I was surprised at how old Eudora looked. When I had met her she didn’t look much older than Demie, although I didn’t really know how old either of them were. They had both looked in their twenties, in the prime of their womanhood, but Eudora now looked around maybe fifty. Still voluptuous, but sagging in places, with lines creasing her demonic face.

“Mother...” Demie moved forward, touching the older demon’s face.

Eudora moved her daughter’s hand away. “He won’t let me go out to eat, and he has nothing for me anymore. I’m starving.”

As if on cue, a voice boomed out from the bedroom. “Eudora! That the pizza? Bring it in here, woman!”

Eudora looked uncomfortable. “Just getting it ready!” Then she whispered to us conspiratorially, “I had to lie to get his phone to call you ... had to charm the operator into connecting me to your number, Tom. Please, I need your help.”

“EUDOR--! Oh, there you are,” said Detective Aaron Bilson from the bed as she glided into the room. He had not only noticed her getting older by the day, but hadn’t been quiet about his dislike for her looking even more like his mother as she degraded. She had said that it was because she was starving because he wouldn’t let her go out, but he knew her tricks. She was trying to go out to see MEN, to do unspeakable things to them behind his back, leaving him alone ... just like his mother!

“Where’s the pizza?”

She jumped onto the bed and clamped her hand over his mouth. Then her flesh and clothes rippled, revealing another demonic woman wearing a half-top and jeans. “MMF!” he shouted into her hand. He struggled, but she was too strong.

Then the real Eudora, in her human form, entered the room, followed by some guy. “WHTHFH!” Bilson shouted into the other demon’s hand.

Eudora’s gloves and dress vanished, leaving her in only pumps, hose, and garters. She concentrated, and her youthful appearance returned as her breasts and thighs firmed up. “Ughh ... I can hold this for a bit...” she said, and bent over the bed in front of Bilson, a lustful look on her face ... but not for him.