Camilla Ch 107

Unconscious Camilla was now reliving a memory from a year before the aquarium incident.

She was thirty-six at the time, and wearing a tight-fitting dress, high heels, and heavy makeup. She was at home, sitting on the sofa in the living room one December afternoon after having just finished teaching at McGill University. She'd heard some unpleasant news earlier that afternoon: Alain had killed himself.

She sat there for several minutes just musing his death. Though sad about it, and feeling more than a little responsible for passing Nigrovum into him, something she knew had expanded his sorrowful feelings, she was confident Alain wouldn't attack her as a ghost. After all, she'd been kind and comforting to him after their one sexual encounter; she would learn in the not-too-distant future how wrong that assumption was.

After a few more minutes of contemplating Alain, Eros came home. He was seventeen and a half years old now. When he walked into the living room, she got up, suddenly all happy to see her son.

"Hi, sweetie!" she said with a grin, and went up to hug him. She had to look straight up at him as they hugged, for her face was level with the huge boy's chest. "How are you?"

"Oh, better now that I'm with you," he said, sitting on the sofa.

"What happened now?" she asked, sitting on his lap. "Did the other kids give you a hard time again?"

"Yeah," he said. "But I didn't fight with any of them."

"Good boy," she said, kissing his cheek. "Remember, Mommy likes nice boys."

"Oh, please don't call yourself that. Especially not in public. I'm not a baby anymore. I'm almost a fully-grown man now."

"You sure are big enough to be, my adorable giant. Still, you are, and always will be, my baby."

"I wanna be a man, Mom."

"Don't rush adulthood, sweetie," she said, hugging him close. "Jesus once said that if you're not like a child, you won't get to heaven." Then she felt a most unwelcome sensation from his lap, where she was still sitting. "And you won't get to heaven thinking like that, either."

"Like what?" he asked, pretending not to know what she was alluding to.

"You know what I mean. Make him go to sleep."

"But Mom, it's just an automatic--"

"Baby, nice boys don't think that way about their Mommies. Make him go to sleep."

"Sorry."

***************

Suddenly, 37-year-old Camilla woke up, frightened from knowing what memories were soon to be relived. Her eyes focused, and she saw all those lecherous men on the ledge with their cell-phone cameras still getting video of her with her spread-out legs. She would have only frowned at the sight of all those cameras aiming at her gaping pussy and asshole, had she no invisible cock sliding in and out of her wide-open mouth.

Alain's ghost's invisible cock was pumping in and out of her dripping wet cunt.

You seduced me, then you left me wanting more,

he mentally told her.

Sure, you were compassionate when I complained about my abusive father, but I'd fallen in love with you, and even after your husband died, you wanted to be only my friend, no longer a lover. You put this alien intelligence in my blood, and never warned me about the dangers. You selfish bitch!

She couldn't psychically reply to that. After all, he was right. Her only response was to come a huge wad into the water over which she was hovering, since, though his words didn't make her feel good, his ghost-cock sure did.

Danny's ghost-cock was sliding in and out of her damp asshole.

Alain's right,

Danny said in his thoughts.

You got us in bed, but didn't tell us about Nigrovum's dangers. And, oh, how I degraded myself for you! I wish I'd never met you.

Chris's invisible cock was all the way inside her mouth. Her fingers flickered by her chin, for she was tickling his balls.

One of the lechers, on the ledge that was level with her hovering naked body, noted how she was sucking. "Is she deep-throating a ghost's cock?" he asked his friend, who stood beside him.

"Looks that way," said his friend. "If you're right, she has good control over her gag reflex. I can't believe this porn marathon we're watching here!"

The ghost of Vera, the former waitress at

Club Ritz

who'd had the hots for Camilla back in those days, was sucking on her left tit. Akemi's ghost was sucking on the right one. Her breasts bobbed up and down with each suck.

I'll never forget the night you finally let me lick your pussy,

Vera mentally told Camilla.

If only you'd told me what was in your come, I'd never have had you, and I might still be alive today.

"It has been about a month now that Dr. Camilla Mennon-Fox has been hovering naked over a water tank here in this aquarium," said a female reporter for CBC's

The National.

"Now that the truth is known, that Camilla and many other naked young women in countries all over the Western world are being gang-raped by Muslim ghosts, and being made to foul rivers, lakes, and aquariums just as Camilla is here, the Green Parties of Canada, America, England, Germany, and many other Western countries are forming a coalition willing to fight the Islamo-fascist menace. The emergency laws the Green Parties have enacted are facilitating the quick and easy capture of all these Arab men who've mysteriously acquired psychic and telekinetic powers in a new wave of terrorism, of environmental terrorism. This reporter can confidently assert that she's not alone in feeling grateful for the ascendancy of Green Parties in Western countries over the past decade for so; for only the Green Party has proven themselves able to protect our women and our natural resources from degradation."

The gang-banging continued: Camilla showered more come and piss into the water tank. The large ghost-cocks of Alain and Danny continued poking at her A-spot and massaging her G-spot and rectal walls, giving her a pleasure so great that it almost made her forget how humiliating the whole experience was, with all those people watching her. Chris's invisible cock then came out of her mouth; he slapped his rod against her cheeks a few times, then he went away. Finally free from sucking, she looked down to her left, and saw all the mesmerized people below in the observation area watching her through the glass, glass that the spirits of her father, Don, and Candice were still psychically trying to keep from breaking. Camilla shuddered when she saw a masked man among that hypnotized crowd below.

She then looked up in front of her, where all the men were getting video of her gushing pussy, and cheering with every gushing. "When will this end?" she wondered.

When you give up your life,

Dr. Singh mentally communicated from Vancouver.

"I'm too scared to die," she said out loud.

We've done all we can,

Don told her in his thoughts.

When will you do what you must do?

When I'm ready,she mentally answered.

And when will that be?

Agape asked.

We can't keep that glass from breaking forever,

Candice added.

There's still more I need to know,

Camilla told them.

Stuff I have to find out for myself, about Eros.

We can tell you that right now. Eros is in--Agape began, but the masked men blocked him, preventing him from telling her.

Camilla, no longer able to communicate with her father and friends, looked at the men in front of her. She noticed, among the lechers, one man who had no camera, a man who instead looked at her with concern and love in his eyes--Armand.

She sensed that he was the man who'd almost freed her from the gang-bangs before. Feeling his love for her, she said, "Thank y--"

Suddenly, however, she was interrupted by the feeling of a pussy being shoved in her face, the pussy of the ghost of Clara, the lesbian owner of the Toronto clothing store in the Eaton's Centre. Camilla was compelled to lick the invisible clitoris and suck on the labia. Then she had to stick her tongue deep inside the hole and flicker it. Clara's ghost enjoyed the sensations, but was as mad as the other ghosts at Camilla for tempting them to their destruction.

"Alright!" shouted a man standing beside Armand. "I'll bet she's licking a lesbian ghost now. Yeah!" He brought his cell-phone camera down for a close-up of Camilla's cunt.

Armand, desperate to end Camilla's humiliation, closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Hoping to succeed where he'd failed before, he summoned all of his will not only to visualize the ghosts floating away from Camilla's body, but also to put psychic barriers around himself and Camilla, so neither the masked man down in the observation area, nor the living and dead masked men controlling this spectacle from elsewhere, could stop him.

He and Camilla could each feel a glowing bubble of blue light surrounding and protecting themselves. Soon after, the ghosts of Danny, Alain, Clara, Akemi, and Vera all felt themselves slowly floating off of Camilla.

She relaxed her whole body, her limbs lowering to the point of almost touching the surface of the soiled water. "Please," she panted. "Let it be permanent this time."

The men watching her, however, had a different reaction. "What the fuck?" one of them said.

"Not again!" said another. "Get the ghosts back! Pronto!"

"Could this be it?" the reporter asked. "Is Camilla's ordeal finally about to end? We know that many members of the Green Party have developed psychic powers in their counter-terrorist efforts. Have the Green Party finally prevailed against the Muslim psychics? We'll soon see."

Armand is succeeding!

Candice said with a thrill of hope.

I'm afraid I doubt it,

Dr. Singh told her.

As gifted as Armand is with Nigrovum, the many masked men out there are much more powerful.

Indeed, Singh was right, for the masked men focused all their efforts on Armand. Within seconds, they broke through his and Camilla's psychic barriers, leaving them vulnerable again. Camilla's legs were spread out wide and made to go back up over her head again, exposing her pussy and asshole. The masked men caused Armand to be thrown against a wall, knocking him into a few of the men who'd been recording the ghost-fucking.

"Hey, watch it, fuck-head!" one of the men shouted. The men Armand had knocked into were ready to fight with him, but he had been knocked unconscious.

"Hey, the ghost-fucking is back!" said another man. All the men pointed their cell-phone cameras back at Camilla's spread, and resumed getting video of her.

The invisible cocks of Alain and Danny quickly slipped back inside Camilla's pussy and ass. Vera's and Akemi's ghost-lips wrapped themselves around Camilla's nipples again, and Clara's cunt was pushed against Camilla's mouth, with her tongue slipping deep inside and tickling Clara's invisible vaginal walls. Camilla's agape pussy and asshole were expanding and contracting with each pump of the ghost-cocks inside.

The lecherous cameramen licked their lips as they continued with their video recording, their cheers getting especially loud with every gushing of Camilla's come, and every pouring out of her piss.

"Oh, this is so disappointing," the newswoman said. "It really looked as though The Green Party had succeeded against the Muslim terrorist psychics. But unfortunately, victory remains elusive, for now. Still, this reporter has faith that the Green Party will ultimately defeat these environmental terrorists. We must not lose hope."

As scary as my more recent memories will be to relive in my dreams, I need a break from my waking horrors,

Camilla thought in her most bitter frustration.

Who is that man helping me? I can sense that he loves me, and he's kind of cute, actually. Still, there's no way I'm going to fuck him as long as I'm stuck here. Besides, he'll just end up like all of my other lovers: dead and mad at me. Speaking of being in love with me, I've got to face those memories of my 18-year-old son, and hope that--behind all the horror of watching him fulfill his desires--I'll find some insights that can help me get free of the masked men forever. Oh, Eros, why did you have to fuck me?...

With that thought, Camilla bravely allowed herself to lose consciousness again, and relive her most horrifying and shameful memories yet...