Host Hunting Ch 02

This is chapter 2 of Host Hunting. I am sorry it took so long to continue... Hope you enjoy the story... And before you tell me to find an editor... I have tried... gave up after no one responded.

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The first phase of the new moon finally arrives, opening the gateway back to my George. Marking him allows me to open the gate near him, no matter where he may have gone since I saw him last. Centuries of experience has taught me to open the gateway slowly and look before I just leap out. My host may not always appreciate my timing. As it is he has company, and it doesn't look like they are playing very nice.

The General and his Stooges, Moe, Larry, and Shemp, seem to be upset with him. That stiff armed creep is yelling something at George and he just sits there taking it. Moe and Larry leer him down from behind the General. Shemp sits in the open window blocking his escape. When will they learn that they are the ones that need to escape if they keep picking on my host.

Tearing the opening of the gate wider I stretch it until I enter their world from the fire-escape. The buffoon is so absorbed in his boys threatening gestures he never hears the minuscule pop as I step through the ether fabric. My wings spread wide and then sweep around Shemp as I step up close and cover his mouth. Stepping back I drag him with me as we tumble over the edge of the fire-escape.

Opening my wings my decent slows, but with my wings gathering air for lift, there is nothing holding him to me any more. Looking down I see him collapse onto the dirt drive with an unhealthy thud. Giving a strong flap, my wings my decent stops and I rocket back to the fire-escape as I hear a moan from beneath me. Getting back to the window I lift myself higher and hang in the air near the next floor up. Just as Larry and Moe stick their heads out the window.

They both look out the window to the sides for their compatriot. Not that they probably even know what that word means. So they never see anything as I swoop down and grab them both by their hair. My feet strike the railing and with a push up and out I am again escorting some bad boys to the ground landing beside their fallen friend. My wings slowed my downward fall so when they hit they fared much better than the first did, but they don't seem to be in a hurry to come back up.

My wings again rush me upward. As I flash past the window I see that General Custer is loosing it quickly as his troopers are no longer there to back him up. George is pushed down to the bed and that idiot boy is standing over him with balled fist looking around the room for his crew. As my feet touch the grating on the edge of the fire-escape, out of sight of those inside, I transform to the woman that he first saw the other night. Scantily dressed with curves to kill. Appearing in front of the window I raise and waggle my finger before me as I step into the room.

That vicious, little, ass, seems to be struck stupid. His mouth waggles as incoherent noises rumble out of it. Standing upright he balls both fists as he starts to take a step toward me. As he does, George blurts out, "Tom, you don't want to do that." Instead of heading him General Tom takes a swing at me that never reaches me. It does stagger Tom though. The sleeve of his jacket has a long slash from wrist to elbow. The slash of cloth is slowly beading droplets of red.

George tries one more time to stop him by grabbing his arm only to get himself knocked back down by Tom's vicious back handed slap. In that instant Tom disappears from George's sight behind a set of black leathery wings, as the room is filled with a loud hiss. Oh, but I can see him, though as his face pales as the wings squeeze and my tail snakes over his manhood. My mind begins to search into his as I hear the word "No" echo about the room. I loosen my grip upon him both physically and psychically as I await George's verdict of thumbs up or down.

The thumb points sideways as he says, "Make him forget and get him out of here, but do not hurt him further. People know he was here. I can not let you have him, only to have someone find him later for someone to find him dead. I can't give my aunt a reason to worry. Leave him somewhere that he can recover and get his feet under him. Then come back, I missed you."

Unfolding my wings from around this General Tom was not a happy moment, but it was per my George's request. What he didn't do though is limit me as to where I left him to recover. The "Get his feet under him." that brings a smile to my face as I unwrap my wings from around him. George blanched a bit at my smile, but then he does seem to know a lot about what makes someone from my side of the ether barrier smile.

My arms remain wrapped tight around him, even though my wings have folded behind me. Lifting Tom slightly I walk him to the window and turn thumping he head against the window framing, to look back to my George as he stands beside the bed. My eyebrows rise up slightly as my eyes roll with a slight smile as I say, "Oops." Blowing my George a kiss I jump up the to fire-escape sill and then launch myself over the edge. I hear a gasp from below as I lift the General skyward.

Looking back I see George leaning out the window looking down at the stooges that I removed earlier. As I clear the top of the neighboring building I start looking for a place to let the General think about what he had done. It isn't long before I find just the place. It is a bit tricky sliding him down the flag pole in the park, but I am known as a vindictive demon for a reason.

The General looks a lot like General Custer would have at the Little Big Horn. He rests leaning forward, with head slumped, a massive spear holding upright. It was tricky sliding him down the flag pole so that it slid between him and his shirt. His feet dangle from the flagpole base, a couple of feet short of reaching the ground. Guess it may take him a while before he gets back on his feet.

Unlike Custer this one is going to stand up again. It will be interesting to to see if he will ever try to lead again. Hopefully I will never find out. Walking up to him I lift his face up to make sure he is still in one piece. His eyes fluttering, pants stained, but he is still in there. With that I spread my wings wide and enter his mind and grip tight as I say, "You will never again strike him." With that I break the link and let the gust of wind from my wings pummel him as I launch into the air.

As I soar upward the tiny sliver of the moon does little to light my way, but it also keeps others from seeing me. Letting my wings spread wide to catch the wind currents I soar upward away from the surrounding windows as I make my way back. There is no chance of forgetting where to go, fore my George has set a beacon for me to home in on. Where did this innocent learn to do and give so much.

Taking a long glide down to the building I land on the roof top beside the beacon. Glancing down upon the beacon I see a black circle with a series of scratches with a spec of red blood at each of the tips. It is identical to the marking I left on his back the night we met. My claim on him as my choice. How did he know to make this and place it upon his dwelling. There was not enough time at our last meeting to tell him to do this, if he ever needed me.

As George sits up a little taller on the cornice as I look toward him as he says, "They wouldn't have truly hurt me. They were trying to find you. They thought you would be fun to play with." As he spoke I take in the can of black spray paint and a small skinning knife. The knife still showed blood on the tip as it lay on a small scrap of stained cloth.

A pity you told me not to hurt them further, I would have loved to play with them. Especially the one that back handed you. George's lips gave a slight upturn at that, and as I was watching the cloth flutter in the breeze I feel the beginnings of a mental stirring. My eyes snap on his as it grows in strength. A mixture of violence a sexual desire are being mentally pushed from him to me. It is so clear I can smell the fear and sex permeate my senses as the images flash before me.

It is then that I see the image of General Tom sitting upon the flag pole base. An almost orgasmic rush accompanies the image. The same with each of the Stooges as they fall the remaining feet to the ground. With each of the stooges images a sexual gasp is overlain. During the moves all I thought of was that my George was being threatened and they were not going to hurt him. There was no sexual drive behind my attacks. It is as if someone saw what was happening through my own eyes and got sexually excited by it.

They are my own actions. As I relax and absorb more, I can feel another point of view not my own mixed within the images. As if a voyeur watching me. Getting off on my actions. Then having the chance to show the observed what they had witnessed and how it excited them. George is the voyeur, but how was he able? He is doing things I have never seen done before.

He must have known that he went to far by grabbing my own visions and enhancing them to send back to me. With a smile on his face the connection faded as he asked, "To soon, huh?"

Instead, I walk over and sit beside him as I let one of my wings wrap around him to break the wind. It amazes me when he looks directly into my eyes and with a smile leans forward to kiss me. Another first, of all the men these lips have kissed, his were the first that I didn't have to shape shift or manipulate his mind to receive. Even my other hosts had a woman of perfection, that needed to appear before them, and not a succubus demon.

This boy, man is a paradox. A virgin, yet a willing Submissive that can project love, lust, passion with such strength at will. He created a beacon that I could not resist, drawing me back to him. Where did he get the knowledge to do all that and pleasure me in such physical ways. All without giving of his psychological self, that I normally have to reach in and rip out.

Looking into his eyes I ask the question that has hounded me from the first moment I met him. "Who are you?"

Without breaking eye contact he says, "I am yours as you are mine until the end of my time."

With that he leans into me and nestles up to my breast. Curls up upon my lap, and begins suckling my nipple as he closes his eyes and falls into a relaxed, light, sleep. My wings wrap around him cradling his body. One hand holding his head to me the other holding my breast to keep the nipple where he needs it. I will find out one day. Just not today.

Standing I carry him down the fire-escape to his shuttered window. A gentle push with my tail allows it to swing open. Ducking slightly I step inside his room and laying him down on the bed, I stand over him for a moment looking at him. Then using wings and hands together I remove each piece of clothing. Shirt, pants, socks and boxers. Folding each as I go. As the boxers come I see a scar hidden within his pubic hair. Faded with time, but still there.

Pulling the sheets up and over him as he snuggles deeper into his pillow. His mouth still suckling as it now rests against his pillow. Collapsing my wings until I am clear of the window and find myself standing out on the metal works of the fire-escape. Looking back at my George my wings snap open and with a leap soar up and over the rooftop.

Lighting upon the rooftop where I stare at the beacon. My tail flicks out. The tip scratching the surface of the elegantly made beacon. Each of the tail needles slash at the beacon and as they lift the disk before me has not changed at all. Except for the newer deeper scratches each are superimposed over the existing ones that George had created. The stained cloth catches my eye as it flutters in the wind.

Walking over to it I reach down and pick it up. Opening the cloth up I see the blood stain pattern that he used to create the beacon. His own blood from where he laid upon his sheet that first night after I marked him. Picking up the knife I look at the simple steel blade, then twisting it I look at the warn wooden handle and see that it is also scratched. Only this has a different pattern, similar but definitely different. He has had another.

Taking the spray can and the other items, I let my wings spread wide and step off the roof of the building. I do a gentle descend to fire-escape beside his window. From there I stand outside as I watch him sleep in his bed. The marking was old with many years of healing. It is so faint now that the other must have left years ago. Why did the other leave?

Stepping inside the room, I reach into his mind, searching for the most recent moments. Through his eyes, I watch as I leave with Tom. Almost instantly he drops to his knees and reaches under the bed. Feeling around the underside, until he touches a couple of rolled bundles. Touching each he finally grabs the one holding the knife rolled within the stained cloth. Then opening his closet he rummages for the spray paint before bolting for the window.

Rolling the knife back into the cloth I kneel beside the bed and reach around until I feel the tear in the box springs. Reaching up my hand touches three other rolled bundles. Knowing that at least one other had disappeared from his life it is best to leave them where they are. Adding the one that I recovered from the roof I withdraw my hand, and standing, walk over to open the closet. In the corner there are a few other spray cans to which I deposit the black one in the open space between them.

As I straighten up I feel a presence in the hall outside. Stepping into the small closet I turn and close the door just before the bedroom door opens. An elderly woman by the sounds of her voice as she says, "Get up George. Time for church." With a loud double clunk the wooden shutters must have been closed because she continued with, "How many times must I tell you to keep these closed and the cross in place while you sleep. I am not going to lose you like I did your father." As the bedroom door reopens she says, "Now get up and move." moments later the door clicks shut.

I hear him crawl out of bed and open his dresser drawer. The bed springs bounce as he sits to put on his clothes. He opens the closet door, as I pull a shirt off the hanger and hand it to him. Momentarily surprised he says "Thanks", and starts to close the door before he realizes what just happened and catches the door and says, "We need to talk. Come out."

Stepping out of the closet I see that the windows are not only shuttered, but barred with a wooden cross. Light shone along the edges of the window telling me that it is long past the shadows of darkness. It is just as well she closed the shutters. Turning I watch as George puts on his shirt. With each button he does up, I send visions of me biting them off. He just smiles and continues. Undoing his pants he spreads the gap wide as he tucks the clean white shirt in place then licks his upper lip as he closes it back up.

Oh my he is such a tease. Giving back as much as I am trying to give him. George starts talking in a low quiet voice saying, "I am twenty and that was my Aunt Vera. If there were any jobs that paid anything worth having I would be out of here already. She is a danger for you and must never suspect you are with me."

Reaching over he touches my cheek and smiles at me as he says, "She knows enough to hurt you if you are not careful. So be careful, and I will try to keep you well fed so you have the strength to take what she could throw at you. Do not touch the cross there is more to it than just wood." Leaning into me he kisses my lips and as he slowly backs from me says, "I never expected to find you this soon. I would have prepared for you better." My George turns and stands with one hand on the door knob. "I have to go to church, but I will be back as soon as I can."

As he steps out and closes the door, I walk to the door and from within I draw a fine line in the air from the door jamb to the bed as I climb onto the bed and crawl up to the corner above his pillow. Without breaking the line I gather my arms, legs together as my wings wrap around me like a cocoon. From within I let myself relax and soon the world around me fades.

Not long after he has gone a tingling vibrates along the edge of my wings, warning me that something pushed through my line. Reaching out I sense someone moving about the room. A second person joining the first. Women. They are opening the closet and searching through the dresser's drawers. under the bed and along the edge of the mattress. Even pulling out the dresser to look behind and under. When done they straighten the sheets and even refold the socks in the drawers as I sit wrapped within my cocoon.

Pulling back into myself I wait patiently for my George to get back. An interesting place this place that my host calls home. When next I feel the tingle along my wings I again reach out, only to find my host has returned. Within his mind I feel one word only, "WAIT!" so with that I remain still as I expand my feelers to outside the door. Within the hall only inches from where I lean against the wall his aunt stands quietly.

Soundlessly she waits, listening for a noise that shouldn't be. George shakes his head as he unbars the shutters, yet leaves them closed. Sliding the cross into place behind the dresser. Making sure to create a screeching noise as it slides into place. This seems to be the trigger for within moments the door is knocked on and then opened as George stands beside the shutters.

Standing just inside the room her eyes seem to scan everywhere before locking back on George at the window. With eyes wide she says, "I heard a noise, and wanted to make sure you were okay. What are you doing?

Smiling at his aunt he says, "Just opening the window for some fresh air." With that he opens the shutters just enough to push the window open. Closing the shutters to dim the room he smiles at his gaunt faced aunt and waits for her next move.

He didn't have to wait long before she lead in with the, for your own good, assault. "After your father died you became my responsibility, and I will not let whatever Satanic ritual that took him away from us, happen to you."

George should have known better, but I could feel the pressure building within as he shot back at her with, "Yes he drank a lot after Mom died, but then he started to get better. Stopped drinking and was smiling more. He even made sure I was taken care of and they, I mean he, made me what I am today. So don't worry, I'm going to church like you ask."

Aunt Vera's eyebrows knit at his slip, but seemed to relax with the mention of church. She forced a smile and said, "Yes, church is good for you, but I still worry." She gives my George a hug as she looks around the room. She has a worried look on her face, but with one last squeeze she walks out of the room. Leaving the door open behind her.

George sits on the bed and holds up his hand toward me, yet out of view of the doorway, and sits still. After a long pause he slides off the bed and walks over to the door. Closing it softly, he turns back to the bed he smiles at where I remain hidden. The light rays are angling upward through the shutters heralding the setting of the sun and the coming of the dark rays. Until then I stay within my cocoon and watch as George lays down to take a nap.

As the last of the light fades from the shutters, the gate opens its doorway back to his world. He looks so yummy laying on the bed beside me as I sit cross legged at the head of his bed. Watching him sleep I reach forward to lightly stroke his head. My fingers barely disturbing his hair as I slip into his mind. His dreams are scattered.

They flicker between scenes he has witnessed in the past. In one he stands beside on open grave, another he is dragged away screaming, by a woman, his aunt. All the while a figure dances in and out of the edges of his thoughts. Pleasure, pain, happiness, and sorrow, flicker about as the figure tries to come into focus. Suddenly, it is there. In the forefront of his thoughts. A smiling face looking down at him while he lay in bed, a tail flicking back and forth behind. Then as the tail swishes forward to brush his face gently, that same burst of lust, longing, love floods my thoughts as I am thrown back against the wall.