Take Me Home Tonight

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Janice finds a demonic statue in a second hand store.
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JukeboxEMCSA
JukeboxEMCSA
3,754 Followers

It was frankly the ugliest thing Janice had ever seen. Not that she really thought of herself as an appreciator of sculpture, but this really was grotesque. She caught sight of it while on a shopping expedition to help furnish her new apartment, squatting in the middle of a small display of pottery in a second-hand store and looking as if it was giving serious thought to breaking the other statues. Despite herself, she stopped to take a closer look.

She'd never seen anything quite like it. It looked like some sort of gargoyle, a leering, demonic figure with a bulbous, corpulent body carved out of dark gray stone. It was just over a foot tall, although the statue was posed in a slouching, frog-like squat with its belly (thankfully?) hanging over its crotch. Its face was twisted into a knowing, lascivious grin, with eyes made out of some kind of glass or polished red stone that almost seemed to glow under the fluorescent lights. It had sprawling, gangly limbs that seemed too long for its body, enhancing its unnatural appearance. Its right hand rested on its knee, while its left hand was extended in a beckoning gesture. Incongruously, next to it someone had hand-written a sign that said, 'Take Me Home Tonight! Only $18.99!'

Janice shuddered. She felt a little bad about doing it-someone had very clearly worked hard on this thing, getting definition on the ropy muscles of its arms, sanding the swollen belly down to make it look just right, working for hours to give the face that perfect contorted leer. All their hard work had wound up in a second-hand store, marked down to under twenty bucks, and even then people like her only gave it a second glance because it was eye-catchingly icky. Even so, she couldn't help herself. Every time she looked at it, she got the creeps all over again.

With a final shiver of revulsion, she pulled her gaze away from the hideous little gargoyle and started to roll her shopping cart past it. As she drew level with it, though, she felt an absurd, superstitious urge to keep an eye on it as she walked past. Like she didn't want to turn her back on it. It was stupid, like that Facebook thing about the walking statues on that British show-the ones that could only move when you weren't watching-but all the same, she stared at it out of the corner of her eye all the way until she went around the corner. Then she watched the corner a bit longer.

Janice wound up buying an old oak dressing table that was a steal at ninety dollars, and a handful of blackout candles (her new neighbors had warned her about the antiquated power grid in their apartment building, and she wanted to be prepared). She most emphatically did not take home the statue.

*****

The rest of the day passed in that peculiar kind of exhausting boredom that comes from setting up a new place. Janice unpacked dishes and put them into cabinets, she shifted furniture around until her arms ached, she scraped her shin on door frames carrying boxes and she bruised her elbow assembling bed frames. By the end of the day, she was so hot and sweaty and exhausted that it didn't even matter to her that she couldn't figure out how to get the hot water going in the shower. She washed off the grime and sweat, toweled off her naked body, and collapsed onto her unmade bed without even putting on pajamas. She'd never been so tired in all her life, and all she could think about as her head hit the pillow was eight solid hours of deep sleep.

Which is why the dream surprised her. It was intensely vivid, the kind of dream where you're convinced you've woken up out of a sound sleep in the middle of the night and the only thing that tips you off that it's a dream is that impossible things are happening. For Janice, the dream started when she opened her eyes, suddenly wide awake and awash with adrenaline, and saw the gargoyle sitting on her new dressing table.

Her dreaming mind remembered it perfectly. It squatted there, hunched over and reflecting in the three-way mirror as if it was the vanguard of an infinite army of stone demons, its hand beckoning her closer. Janice shook her head at the wordless invitation-she had no intention of getting anywhere near it, waking or sleeping. She tried to make herself wake up, knowing that if she could just wake up then she would look over at the dressing table and see nothing on it but a few tubes of lipstick, but telling herself that she was dreaming didn't seem to help.

Then it stood up. Janice felt an icy chill crawl across her naked skin despite the June warmth as it slowly unfolded its gangly limbs and raised itself up into a standing position. Its belly still hung low, but Janice could see its balls dangling between its legs now that its squatting hunch no longer hid them. It looked at her looking at it-at him, she realized uncomfortably-and his leering, twisted smile widened. Then, with a single frog-like leap, he cleared the gap between the dressing table and the bed and landed right between her feet.

Janice tried to push herself backward, but her limbs were gripped with that horrible paralysis so common to dreams. The gargoyle stared her down, as if daring her to move as he crept along the mattress towards her, his eyes catching the light of her bedside lamp and reflecting them straight into hers. Movement of any kind felt strangely impossible under its gaze. A night terror, she realized. I'm having a night terror, I've heard of these, you feel like you're awake but you can't move and there's something in the room with you, it's not real none of this is real it's just a night terror it's not real it's not real-

The creature reached out and touched her thigh.

His hand felt smooth, like polished stone, but it also felt warm in a way that stone almost never did. Warmer than her own body, warmer than the night air. It felt like the statue had been sitting out in the hot sun all day, soaking in that warmth until he almost burned with it. He slid his hand along her thigh, brushing across her skin almost carelessly, until he made his way to her pubic mound. He held his hand there for a long moment, and Janice could feel his long, slender fingers tangling in her bush. She couldn't move at all. He held her in his gaze like a snake pinned a mouse. His smile widened. She could see his belly slowly lifting up as his cock stiffened, revealing a massive, priapic erection almost as long as he was tall.

He giggled. It was a strange, high-pitched sound, like someone breaking a dozen tiny bells with a hammer. Then Janice felt his long, thin fingers slowly sliding into the entrance to her pussy.

His hand slid in smoothly, effortlessly, and Janice realized she was unbelievably wet. Somehow, that made sense. This was all a weird, sexual panic kind of dream, the kind of crazy anxiety thing that happened on your first night in a new city less than a month after a bad break-up, so of course she was horny and terrified all at the same time. It felt weirdly natural to watch a grotesque, leering demon slowly slide his hand into her cunt all the way up to the wrist, then his arm all the way up to the elbow, wriggling it inside her as he went. Absolutely horrifying, but strangely natural.

Then he was inside her all the way up to the shoulder, and Janice could feel him pressing his slender fingers against the walls of her vagina, probing one spot after another. Involuntarily, she felt her hips begin to roll in time to the motions, her paralysis loosening just enough to allow her to respond to his touch. Janice felt guilty for a moment for enjoying the intrusion, then she remembered that she was only dreaming. It wasn't real. He wasn't real.

But it felt real. The pleasure felt incredibly real, like she was being fucked and fingered and fisted all at the same time. The creature's arm was just thick and muscular enough to give Janice something to clench around, and his fingers kept finding new places to touch that she'd never felt before. He found one spot after another to stimulate, making Janice gasp openly each time his thin, rock-hard fingers pressed against her inner walls.

Soon, she fell into a rhythm of shuddering gasps and jaw-clenching bursts of ecstasy. The demon smiled, showing his dagger-like teeth as he played her pussy like a violin, and Janice was startled to hear a voice coming from her own throat as he fingered her.

"I. Am. Your. Puppet," she heard herself saying in a strange, guttural moan, as her mouth opened and closed in bursts of pleasure. "I. Am. Your. Cunt. Puppet. And. You. Control. Me." The voice was his, she realized. He was throwing it like a ventriloquist, timing his words to match her wordless moans of desire. It was so bizarre that she would have laughed if she could have spared any breath.

"Yes. Master," she heard herself saying. She could see herself in the dressing table mirror, croaking out the demon's words in a parody of speech. "Your. Cunt. Puppet. Loves. To. Obey." It was so strange to see herself, naked and moaning obscenities as she writhed on the bed, but it was also perversely hot. Janice couldn't help herself, she ground her body against the creature as it fisted her.

"Cunt. Puppet's. Body. Is. On. Strings," she saw herself saying in the mirror. It seemed so easy now to relax into his control, to take her cues from the pleasure and let herself be guided. "Cunt. Puppet. Moves. To. Master's. Commands."

Janice whimpered, but it was lost under the gargoyle's voice coming from her lips. "Cunt. Puppet's. Hands. Move. To. Her. Titties," she said, and no sooner did she say it than she watched her arms move seemingly of their own volition to caress her breasts. "Cunt. Puppet. Loves. To. Obey," she saw herself growling out. Janice watched her mirror self obey with an almost hypnotic fascination.

"Cunt. Puppet. Wants. Cock," Janice saw herself groan out. "Please. Master. Fuck. Cunt. Puppet." She didn't know whether she meant it or not anymore-her pussy felt like a slick mess, and any fear had long since been subsumed into a dreamy arousal that left her legs spread wide and her nipples tight under her fingertips. "Fuck. Cunt. Puppet," she heard herself chant, "Fuck. Cunt. Puppet," and she knew that it didn't matter what she thought anymore.

The demon slid his hand out of her with a single smooth gesture, and extended a long, serpentine tongue to lick her juices off of his fingers. Then he shifted his body and thrust all the way into her in one long, intense motion that almost left Janice cumming right then and there. He was just so big, bigger than he had any right to be, bigger than even made sense. She tried to remind herself that she was dreaming, but then he pumped into her again and she lost track of thought.

He pounded her pussy, almost running back and forth on the mattress in order to thrust his entire length into her. She felt his long arms reach out to caress her bush again, finding her clit with casual ease and flicking at it over and over again as he fucked her. Janice pinched her nipples hard, knowing that her orgasm wasn't far away, knowing that she couldn't stop it now if she tried.

"Fuck. Cunt. Puppet," she heard herself saying, no longer even sure if it was the demon's voice or her own chanting in ecstasy. "Fuck. Cunt. Puppet. Fuck. Cunt Puppet. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Janice's head rolled back and her eyes fluttered in bliss as she felt herself slip over the edge into orgasm.

Janice knew it had to be a dream now, because she could actually see the pleasure now, rushing out of her mouth in an exhalation of reddish-purple smoke. It poured out of her like a volcanic eruption, swirling around the room as she came and came. She could feel him inside of her, fucking every last gasp of pleasure out of her body, leaving her drained and weak and deliciously sated in a way she never imagined possible as he sucked the smoke into his mouth until it was all gone. Only then did she feel his cock twitch and spurt inside her. By then she was too exhausted to care.

He pulled out of her, his massive cock already softening. She strained to watch him, but her eyelids felt so heavy, and the blackness of deeper sleep once again claimed her before she could see him leave.

*****

Janice woke to the lazy sunlight of the late afternoon, and to the heady smell of sex permeating the room. The mattress was absolutely soaked with her juices, and her pussy was a sticky mess. She wanted to take a shower, but something new deep inside her told her not to just yet.

Instead, she stood up. Her body felt wobbly in a way it shouldn't after sixteen hours of sleep, a way mere exertion couldn't explain. Janice had a sudden flash of memory from her dream, the smoke issuing from her mouth in an orgasmic rush. She remembered the way it was consumed, every last wisp of it.

Still, she made herself move. She went into the kitchen and found the blackout candles, still in their plastic wrapping. She wondered briefly how much of that decision had been her own. Had she been chosen the instant she locked eyes with him? Or even before that-had she ever possessed a will of her own, or was even her decision to come here just another link in the chain that bound her soul?

It didn't matter. If she'd ever possessed the strength to escape, she'd given it up willingly last night. She grabbed a pack of matches and returned to the bedroom, reveling in the animal stink of lust that still clung to her body.

She lit the first candle, using it to drip hot wax onto the dressing table in five places. She used the hot wax to stand the other candles in place, lighting them so that their drippings would help cement them into position further. The finish would probably be ruined, but Janice didn't care.

She reached for one of the tubes of lipstick. Working carefully, she inscribed a pentagram in cherry red on the surface of the dressing table, drawing sigils whose meaning she didn't understand inside the circle. She watched the candles carefully. Only when she saw the wax cease its flow at the circle's edge, as if stopped by an invisible wall, did she recap the lipstick and set it aside.

She reached down between her legs, pushing her fingers deep into her sticky pussy and swirling them around until they came away slick with fluid. She reached into the center of the pentagram and daubed it with the liquid. An electric shiver ran through her body as she felt the wood grow warm in a way mere temperature could never describe.

Janice knelt down in front of the dressing table, prostrating herself to the floor until her breasts rubbed up against the carpet fibers. "With my desire," she whispered, "i consecrate Your altar. With my arousal, i consecrate Your altar. With my obedience, i consecrate Your altar." She chanted the words again three times in a language she did not recognize, then straightened once more.

Once Janice had concluded the ritual, she finally allowed herself to shower off the smell of sex and pull on some clothes. She grabbed her purse and drove back to the second-hand store. Every so often, she would glance at the rear view mirror and catch sight of her glassy, vacant eyes staring back at her. She'd need another shower when she got home.

The same clerk was working the counter, and his eyes widened a bit when he saw her coming up to the counter with the statue carefully resting in her cart. "Have to say," he said, his Vermont accent thick with surprise, "Never thought I'd get rid of that one. Fella fast-talked me into buying it, and I figured I'd sell the store before I sold that statue."

Janice smiled beatifically. "What can I say?" she replied, a chuckle in her voice. "It just...called to me."

THE END

JukeboxEMCSA
JukeboxEMCSA
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7 Comments
StCyprianStCyprianabout 1 year ago

This is your best story, and that is saying a great deal.

mindcaptivemindcaptiveabout 6 years ago
Long time fan

As the subject line says, I've been a big fan for quite a while. You did a great job here mixing the seduction with the darkness and the innocence of the victim. Makes me hope I never see any gargoyles in second hand shops. Or is it that I do? Scary cool. Thank you for sharing your gift with us.

chifighterchifighterabout 8 years ago
nice

Would like to see this continue

AnonymousAnonymousabout 8 years ago
@Anonymous1

All of the stories are named after songs. That's why the username is Jukebox.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 8 years ago
Interesting

This story was, like the others, superbly well written but was also very different from the others. It made for an interesting read. However, this comment is to remark upon a separate curiosity. Why are a whole mess of your stories named after old songs? Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by ACDC; Closer to the Heart by Rush, Come on Eileen, etc…

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