Girl, There’s A Better Life For Me And You
Mr Mortimer Harbinger
5th of November, 1975 — The Adversary
Mr Harbinger was exhausted. He had intentionally worked until late the previous day and took a taxi straight to his hotel and deliberately bypassed The Anniversary. His work had absorbed him, once he managed to get his head into it. It worked, at least during the day. There were dreams in the night time though. Dreams he didn’t want to remember.
His work extravaganza the night before left him with nothing else to do when he closed up the shop, ready for its big opening tomorrow. The shop was ready, the staff were all in place, even the last-minute ones, and the advertising was already out. He was not expecting anything to go wrong tomorrow.
But now he had nothing to do. There was a big fireworks display on the town moor later and he decided to go there and enjoy himself. He definitely would not go back into The Anniversary although he would walk the route again. He needed to show himself he wasn’t afraid of passing the pub. It was important to his self-esteem. Also, the streets were full of young women, all still looking amazing to his tired old-fashioned eyes. He wanted to watch them as he walked. That would pass the time nicely. The idea of doing some surreptitious bird watching cheered him up. So, with uplifted spirits, he went on his way. He remembered to avoid looking into the art shop.
There was a tranny playing halfway down the next block. He recognised it as a tranny. ‘What’s a tranny?’ he immediately thought just before the answer came fully formed in his mind—that voice again—as if from an encyclopedia. ‘A tranny is short for transistor radio’, he heard himself think. ‘Weird,’ his normal thoughts thought. ‘Maybe I should retire? After this place is up and running I’ll look into it. I’m sure Vivian will be pleased.’ That thought reminded him he still hadn’t been able to contact her. Her phone just rang and rang each time he tried, until he gave up. ‘She must be out at one of her classes,’ he rationalised as he continued his walk. He wasn’t too worried as this sort of thing had happened before.
He couldn’t work out where the tranny was but it was playing a song he liked. ‘It must be goldie oldie hour,’ he thought as the ten-year-old song caught his attention as if it was the first time he’d heard it.
‘Oh my girl you’re so young and pretty:And one thing I know for sure:’He mouthed the words to the next line before he realised what they were…‘You’ll be dead before your time is due:’
Mr Harbinger laughed to himself. ‘Looks like someone up there’s playing tricks on me,’ he thought. He focused again on his main pursuit as the song died away in the distance.
At the next junction, he turned his head to investigate a particularly beautiful and fashionable young girl across the street but his attention was immediately drawn to Death floating across the road one street along. He stopped and stared, causing the people around him to swerve. He didn’t care. This wasn’t some coincidence forcing his mind where it didn’t want to go. There was no way that was somebody in a mask. He floated across the road, for God’s sake. The people around Death seemed to give him a wide berth so they must be seeing him as well but what were they seeing? He wouldn’t just give Death a wide berth if they passed in the street. Death didn’t have a scythe though. Was that a good thing? He didn’t know.
Death crossed the road and stopped. It was too far away to see properly but it looked like Death then turned to stare directly at him. He felt something in his brain. Death’s upper face was hidden by the shadow from his hood but the lower part was visible. Even at this distance, Mr Harbinger could see it was bone. He was looking at Death’s skull.
He castigated himself for being stupid and quickly resumed his paces. It was something innocuous, it must be. After all, Death was too far away to see clearly. He was obviously seeing him wrong.
Death was lost to view after the junction. At the next one, he looked left again and gazed at Death standing on the far side of his junction staring right at him. He felt the stare before Death swivelled and resumed his own journey.
He looked left again at the major tee junction but Death had disappeared. Relieved, he started to cross with the lights and felt Death’s stare again when he was half way across. He looked ahead and there he was, far up the street looking back at him. It was still too far to make out any details but he could feel his curiosity. He didn’t want Death to be interested in him so he put his head down and concentrated on getting to the other side without tripping and causing a scene. Once across he looked up again. Thankfully, Death was gone.
After a while, he saw The Anniversary across the road and stopped. Seeing Death had affected him badly, even if his mind told him he was mistaken in some way. Besides, surely his memories of the past couple of times he’d been in there were also wrong. Things like that just don’t happen. He did need a drink, so he decided to go back in and face his fears.
He crossed the road and walked towards the entrance. There was something strange about it though. People were not passing by the entrance today. Somehow they, as a block, crossed the road to the other side to avoid the path in front of the pub. He stopped to watch and confirmed his impression. Some were even crossing back to this side one they’d passed the object of their disdain. He wondered about that. Perhaps the pub had topless staff on tonight and the locals were offended? He’d heard that had been a thing in London for a while now. It made his destination more desirable.
While watching the people across the road, he saw them detour away from the entrance to a tiny road. Maybe it was an alley? That was strange. He made a point of looking once he was parallel and there was Death, standing stock still, just out of sight from the main road. He was staring at the pub. Now Death was a lot closer and he could see it wasn’t Death, just a man in a cloak. A cloak that totally wrapped itself around him and swept over his shoulders down to the ground. He couldn’t actually see his arms or legs but he now knew they must be there. His brain immediately corrected his false interpretation and dialled back the panic that had automatically resurfaced. He still couldn’t see his face as his hood was large enough to cover the top half of his head in shadow, but what he did see was a very pale skin.
There was something wrong with his lips. He looked ill, not frightening.
Death, for want of a better name, turned his head to stare directly at Mr Harbinger and immediately he felt something in his brain, a pressure of some sort. A pressure of curiosity? He needed a pint. Now.
There was a loud cawing screech above his head just as he was about to enter. He looked up and saw a crow on the rooftop. No, there were two of them. Looking at them caused him to read the pub sign again. He’d misread it. It wasn’t The Anniversary but The Adversary. He smiled to himself. ‘I’ve been calling it by the wrong name for days. Maybe I really should retire? Anyway, that’s a better name for a pub’.
Inside, he saw the normal pub layout he remembered. The waitress from his second visit was there. He sat down by the window and had the table all to himself.
“Hi, Luv. IPA?” asked the waitress soon after.
“Please.” He smiled at her.
“Sure. Good to see you again,” she answered as she turned to leave.
He frowned before he realised she must be referring to his visit here the other day. But she did say that then, didn’t she?
Soon enough, she returned with his pint. “Keep the change,” he said, causing a smile of gratitude.
This time he asked the question.
“I’m sorry, but where did we meet?”
“Don’t you remember, luvva? We met in Yorkshire, some thirty-odd years back. I was running from home and you gave me a lift away from there.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for that. I still remember it.” She turned to the bar as he slumped back in his seat with images searing through his brain. He drank his pint in record time. A new pint was on his table soon after he finished but he never noticed how it got there.
He had given her a lift some thirty-odd years ago. But this wasn’t her. How could it be? She would have been in her teens back then and she was still in her teens now? That’s impossible, isn’t it? He’d just seen her close up minutes ago and there was no way she was the same girl. He accepted he could mistake a girl’s age, sometimes by as much as ten years. But not, he calculated it this time, by thirty-eight years. She would be, what, fifty-six at the youngest, now. No, this waitress definitely wasn’t fifty-six years old or older. There was absolutely no way that could be true.
He watched her as she went about her tasks. She was good. Really good. She flirted with the men just enough and they loved her. She was efficient and seemed to be full of energy. He thought she could have the pick of any man here. Who was she, really?
Time was getting on and, despite the mystery, he started to stand to get back to his hotel when another woman entered and went behind the bar and through to the rear room. ‘It can’t be,’ he thought. He decided to wait and make certain so sat back down again. The waitress immediately saw this and came over.
“Want another?” she smiled.
He nodded. Somehow he couldn’t speak.
She winked at him. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked as she left.
His new pint was there in good time just as that other woman entered the bar again and began to help. It was her sister. He was certain of that now his old rusty memories were reactivated. What were their names again? It took him a while before Jo and Gertie struggled into the foreground. There was Mrs Even as well. Did he ever get Mrs Even’s full name? He couldn’t remember it if he had. The new waitress was Gertie? Well, she looked the spit of the Gertie he remembered and she had served him five days ago as well?
He supped slowly as he studied the two mysteries from his deep past. They were efficient together. More than efficient. They complimented each other so much so they could each serve more customers than is generally expected. Just as well, he thought, as the place was filling up. He automatically would have put at least three waitresses on here, probably four, but these two were killing the job. Hold on, how was the place filling up if the people outside were avoiding it? He decided to check the outside out when he left. Checking the waitresses again he decided if he was the owner he would give them both a thirty per cent increase in wages. That would be well worth it for the owner and make it harder for them to leave.
Mr Harbinger sat and wondered. The longer he sat and watched the more frightened he became. He was old now. Sixty-six is too old to be dealing with something like this.
For the second time, he decided to leave. This was a mystery, he decided, that was best left alone. Neither of the waitresses tried to stop him rising and walking towards the door and he was glad about that. It opened before he could get there and Mrs Even entered.
She immediately saw him and smiled straight at his face.
“Mr Harbinger. I’m so glad to meet you face to face at last but you mustn’t leave our happy house now.” She advanced a step and grabbed his arm forcibly escorting him to a seat in the middle of the room. As he was sat down he saw Jo and Gertie turn to stare at him. Their smiles now gone as was the noise in the pub.
He looked around to see the whole clientele frozen in place. All the men and women still as statues in whatever pose they happened to be in when whatever it was froze them. He tried to rise but Mrs Even stood behind him and simply held his shoulders. She was far too strong for him. He stayed sat as the two daughters approached.
Their smiles were back. Smiles of triumph, now. Cruel smiles. Evil smiles. His fear increased. He was going to die here, soon. This he knew. Mr Harbinger had seen movies and read stories. They were absurd but, despite that, he looked carefully at their teeth. There were no outsized canines on show. He was absurdly relieved at that but still petrified.
He tried to focus. The last thing he wanted was for them to know he was afraid. He didn’t rationalise why. It was simply something important to do.
“When’s Mr Even coming?” he asked when the daughters were but a step away.
Mrs Even laughed. “He’s not here any more. You got him demoted and I inherited his post. You’re dealing with me now and I won’t let you go like he did.”
“Why not?” He was disgusted with the way his voice trembled and the sweat poured from his skin but he couldn’t help it. The two daughters were fondling his thighs now and Jo was loosening his belt. Somehow he couldn’t use his arms to even try to stop them.
“I’m going to succeed,” came the answer from above his head.
He squirmed under the slow administration of touches along his upper thighs. His trousers were pulled off as he responded—somehow.
“Succeed in what? What have I ever done to you?”
He could feel her breath directly on his ear now. “You escaped. That’s what you did, Mr Harbinger. Our mission was to take everyone into our Lord’s service and you escaped. That’s not acceptable. Stephen was in charge and failed, so he’s gone now. I’m not going to fail.”
“But this isn’t a hamlet out in the middle of nowhere. Why are you here?”
“Interesting you haven’t asked how we’re doing this, isn’t it? Do you know how it’s happening?”
His fear levels rose further, making him wary of speaking so he shook his head instead.
She nibbled his earlobe before whispering the answer, sending warm breaths to sensually tickle his ear. “We’re controlling every mind in the area, Mr Harbinger. They’re all easy to control but you’re not. Even now, when you’re old and decrepit, you’re the most difficult one here. But you are old and decrepit. Not as strong as you once were. We’ll get you this time.”
Mr Harbinger’s cock was erect but right then he felt it expand more, painfully, as Gertie had placed her mouth over it and had started to lick and suck. Mr Harbinger was too scared to look down, so he stared straight ahead. Gertie’s teeth started to scrape over his skin. She had sharp teeth.
Jo left her post and took over from Mrs Even. Mr Harbinger took the opportunity to try and wriggle free at the changeover but he wasn’t nearly strong enough.
Mrs Even went in front of him and stared into his eyes. “You’re too weak, now, Mr Harbinger,” she said as she captured his will. Not his mind, which was still functioning, but his will. And with his will, she controlled his body. He felt the pressure leave his shoulders but he couldn’t do anything about it. He just sat there, staring into her eyes.
“On your knees,” she ordered. He felt intense pain when his rheumatic knees slammed onto the ground. But that was, somehow, of no consequence. He was conscious Gertie should have been there but she wasn’t. There were too many impossibilities happening for his overwhelmed mind to concentrate on any one of them.
“Look down,” she ordered.
He looked. Somehow she had removed her skirt and knickers. He saw them on the floor but he couldn’t work out when that happened. Her vagina (Mr Harbinger had never used dirty words and wasn’t going to start now) was there for all to see. He could easily see her slit through her triangle.
“Look into my eyes,” she ordered again.
He looked and fell deeper into her control. He felt his mind going. It was still there but free-floating, like those astronauts, slowly twirling around, not attached to anything. He could think but he had no control over anything. His body did what she wanted and all he could do was fight desperately to stay conscious. It was the only thing he could think to do.
All three laughed at his plight. He heard their cruelty and knew he wasn’t going to get out of this, whatever this was. Who was their Lord? He hadn’t asked that. Why hadn’t he asked that? It might be important.
“Look down again” came the unignorable order.
He looked. She had an enormous erect cock. He just accepted it. There was nothing else he could do.
“You’re going to suck it, Mr Harbinger. You’re going to suck me off and swallow all of it. Once you do, you’ll be ours and stay forever in our happy house of fun. Begin.”
That was an order. His body immediately obeyed and wrapped his lips around the bell end. The pre-cum was abundant and burnt his mouth. What would the ejaculate do to his throat? His lips started to slide down the shaft, burning as they did so. There was no way he could take all that in his mouth but that’s what was going to happen.