Allison Lange and Adam
I staggered in late, or rather early the next morning, stinking of alcohol and my head buzzing like an angry wasp which was drunk. On numb feet, I tottered into my room and saw that all my girlfriends shit was gone. Damn. I choked down my last two ecstasy tablets and logged onto the net and searched for fake celebrity bondage porn, pretty soon I found a site with some blatantly faked up pictures of Michelle Trachtenberg tied up. I imagined myself rescuing her, murdering anyone who stood between me and making her save, I imagined her being so grateful as I cut the ropes and set
her free, the fiends who did this to her already broken and crumpled on the floor like trash…
I felt my dick get hard, but then got guilty all of a sudden. “Dude! That girl’s on 15 years old! I told myself as I passed out and my forehead smashed against the keyboard and crashed the site. I couldn’t believe that my girl has dumped me like this, but on the other hand, I could hardly blame her – look at me, drunk as hell still when I woke up, stinking of BO, dressed like a fucking wino… I took brandy all day long, and also popped more pills. I passed out at about 8, while watching a trashy horror movie with an attractive female lead, called “Christina’s House”… somehow right then and there a connection must have been made…
That night Allison Lange, the movies pretty and talented young star, had a nightmare that while she was sleeping, a ghost walked into her room and masturbated over her. All the while she was paralysed, as the ghost furtively jerked off, turned away from her so she couldn’t see his cock, but gazing over his shoulder with a sick leer in his mucky eyes…When Allison awoke the next day, astonished by the staying power of her bad dream, she looked pale and drawn, a little less pretty than usual maybe – although still beautiful of course.
For the next two months, Allison had this bad dream almost every night, sometimes the ghost would walk over to her, and reach out as if to touch her with a shaking spastic hand. And while she would shriek and cower internally, she could not move away from his dirty hand. But the ghost was hesitant, as if he did not realise that he could do whatever he wanted with her in this world. Yet each day he moved less uneasily, his eyes met her’s more often… Allison began to fear for her sanity. She would have gone to a therapist, but first of all she wasn’t some dippy Hollywood bitch, she was a smart and sassy young women who didn’t believe in all the self-absorption in her industry. Second, she somehow felt ashamed of the ghost. He never touched her, but in his eyes… in his eyes she would see all sorts of perverted and gymnastic contortions and positions shining behind his sick fizzing eyes. He looked drunk and ill and craven, yet at the same time burning inside with lust and power. In her dreams the ghost made her feel so dirty – and she was ashamed of what kind of a person she must be to dream such things as him.
Yet her work was suffering, she had lost an audition to some far less talented actress just the other day for a good role. Just when she was seemingly at the end of her tether, a funny thing happened. I was on a business trip to LA, and I happened to see Allison Lange filling a scene for Roswell. After my break up with my girlfriend, I had spent hours searching for internet porn with this beautiful young actress in it. Although, to my eternal shame, I liked sites with fake up pictures of her in bondage best; I also thought she seemed in real life to be a sweet girl, and also with a good head on her shoulders. Plus, how could she know the truth about me?
Hesitantly, after the scene was shot, I walked over to ask her for autograph. Allison looked at me, and with horror I realised that she recognized me! She screamed because when she looked up expecting nothing more than some fat spotty fan boy, she saw the ghost. Instantly some security guy was upon me and hit me on the head with a cosh! I went down hard… in my mind I saw myself leaping up and ringing the big goon’s neck right in front of the hottie, but instead I laid there and groaned like I was really hurt.
“Oh My God! What have I done!?” screamed Allison, as she bent down to see if I was ok. “Are you ok?” she asked sounding concerned and cradling my head on her lap. “ug!” I whimpered, and sneaked a look at her long tanned legs as I laid there.
That night Allison took me out to dinner to make up for her terrible mistake. She tried as best as she could to offer some half assed explanation, and obviously I didn’t push it. I was tolerably sober, having only drunk 5 beers and 10 whisky chasers before we met at the restaurant, and having only taken 2 bottles of wine with our meal (of which Allison, cautious of her weight perhaps – although not in an obsessive way of course, as she was too smart for that- had 2 glasses). Of course, as she was an American chick, I played on my English accent and talked all night like I was Hugh Grant, which seemed to impress her. I ate spaghetti and sausage in garlic sauce, while Allison went for some dish with vegetables and pasta and stuff. I had to get back the next day, but I walked her back to her apartment, and gave her a peck on the cheek before I left. I realised, of course, that even if I could worn my way into her affections for one night – armed with the guilt she felt about the guard beating me – I was not in this girl’s class. She deserved to be dating some hot Hollywood actor, not someone, or something, like me. I didn’t deserve to be with her, and I couldn’t give her what she needed. I wasn’t good enough for her.
Feeling frustrated all the same, I went to some dance club, got drunk as hell and picked up Christina Aguillerra. She was pretty wasted too, and we ended up going back to her place and I banged her. She was pretty hot, but she seemed no better than any normal chick to me. I started off eating her out, until she almost ready to cum, then I flipped her round and started humping her in the doggie style. I performed every sexual position I had ever heard of on her, one at a time, then all at once, then one at a time again. The sex lasted SIX god damn hours, and she was constantly in the thrall of a multiple orgasm for the last FIVE and a half hours. DAMN!
The next morning I told her I had to go back to the UK, she started to cry and told me that I was the best at all sex positions. In an effort to comfort her, I told her she was a really pretty young girl, with a great voice. I told her she shouldn’t be so insecure about herself and try to lose any more weight, and shouldn’t dress like a clown to get attention at parties because she looked pretty anyway. She slapped me in the face and called me a pervert, and threw me out. I only just made my flight!
That night Allison had a different dream. She dreamed that the ghost without my face stood outside her apartment, his sick boy features set in a surly and aggressive scowl, ready to beat up any other ghost that tried to get in. She slept soundly that night… One night about a month later, Allison’s old boyfriend came down from Up North and they went out on a date. They got pretty drunk, and I guess Allison was home sick a little perhaps. Anyway, they ended up going back to her gaff and getting it on. Of course, Allison made sure it was safe, which reassured me as I hid in her bedside draw and peeped out of the keyhole. He was bigger than me, in more ways than one, and they really seemed to have a good time. At the same time as he was pounding his cock onto her like a jack hammer, he managed to gently lick and nibble at her proud nipples and luscious breasts – a feat of concentration and agility I found astounding. Allison thought she saw the ghost lurking around the apartment a couple of times, but was too busy to notice that she only ever saw the ghost in her dreams before.
A few weeks later some weird shit went down, no doubt. Allison was half asleep when her door burst open and a huge demon broke in. She screamed in fear, and in a sudden realisation of shock, she heard her own voice, realised she was really screaming! This was really real! I suddenly realised what I had been called for after all – I thought it was me, but of course it was her, always her… From 3000 miles away I charged at the speed of light when I heard her scream inside my head. I stood between the demon and her. Toe to toe with a seven foot tall 350 lbs demon king. He looked at me dismissively, imagining he could silence me with his magic powers. He reached his evil inside of me, but there was nothing there, nothing at all he could touch. He looked into my eyes and started. I strode forward, but I had not counted n his physical strength…
For literally fifteen hours this demon beat me and tortured me. For the last five he had his claws shoved inside me chest and every spasm of his hand caused me the most intense agony. All the while Allison helplessly screamed and begged the bully to leave me alone. Finally, he did as she asked and turned to her, she tried to run and he back handed her into the wall. She lay their, trying to get up, her lip was bleeding and she was holding the too big sleeve of her baggy night shirt to her face. All of the rage and pain inside of me exploded. “DAMN YOU!” I screamed, the demon spun around shocked just as I grabbed his throat and hoisted him in the air. He hung there for a few seconds like a condemned man, and then I earth slammed him. He tried to rise, but when he looked in my eye he knew he would die. I slammed my hand into his chest and ripped his reverse soul clean out of its hole. I ripped it in half right in front of him…
I rose my feet, I was badly hurt, but the bruises and breaks healed themselves by the second. In wonder, Allison reached her hand out and touched my face. I felt her hand against me and my heart hammered. Slowly, she dipped her face to mine and tried to kiss me, but she went straight through my body. Suddenly I was translucent, fading away. She stared at me looking totally freaked, but I knew that when she woke up she wouldn’t remember tonight, or me, or a single episode of this sordid tale. And I was happy for her.