tagNonHumanCamilla Ch. 105

Camilla Ch. 105


Unconscious Camilla was now reliving a memory that had occurred three years before the aquarium incident, so she was thinking back to when she was thirty-four and lecturing in McGill University in late October.

She was discussing two passages in Moby-Dick. "'In Chapter 35, 'The Mast-Head', Herman Melville writes of how we can be lulled into an opium-like, listless, and unconscious reverie, and in the blending cadence of waves of our absent-minded thoughts, we lose our identity," Dr. Camilla Mennon-Fox paraphrased. "A person may take 'the mystic ocean at his feet for the visible image of the deep, blue, bottomless soul, pervading mankind and nature.' Here, Melville is comparing the seeming infinity of the ocean surrounding a sailor's ship to the pantheistic notion of an infinite spirit permeating everything."

As she was speaking, several of her male students, all in their early twenties, were too busy staring at her open shirt and exposed, braless cleavage to think much about what she had to say.

"Remember that Moby-Dick was, in part, Herman Melville's critique of the pantheistic philosophy of Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose essay 'The Over-soul' was clearly influenced by the Hindu concept of Brahman," she continued. "Now, most pantheists tend to think of divine nature as peaceful and beautiful; they daydream this way when they take a pleasant walk in the park or in the woods. Melville's nature, however, is in the stormy seas on a boat; and there, nature is terrifying and cruel. If that's God, He's much scarier than He sounds in the Bible."

Still, the young men--as well as one lesbian--just stared at her tits, wondering what they looked like in their entirety. Though Camilla the widow was normally happy, and now free, to fuck her students, none of these ones--hardly any younger than she looked--were of any interest to her, and she was more than a little annoyed at how they weren't listening.

"Here's another quote," she said. "'But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror.' You see, the pantheist believes that the absorption of his identity, atman, into God or Brahman, is blissful. But it isn't: fall into that infinite ocean of Brahman, and it's terrifying, for your individual self stays with you always. Entry into the All, or Over-soul, isn't heaven; it's hell, and when you're down in hell, you stay there, never to rise again. Melville tells the pantheists to heed this warning."

Her students looked at her a little strangely, not understanding why she was criticizing pantheism so emotionally, and with such visible fear. She sensed their reaction, felt a little embarrassed, then continued.

"Let's look at another passage," she said, flipping the pages of her book. "In Chapter 50, 'Ahab's Boat and Crew. Fedallah,' Melville makes some interesting comments about the Parsi Fedallah, a fire-worshipper who has an evil influence on Ahab, making many prophecies about the hunt for Moby Dick. Fedallah seems a devil in human guise, with his other-worldly knowledge. As Melville says, 'according to Genesis, the angels indeed consorted with the daughters of men, the devils also...indulged in mundane amours.'"

One young man leaned over to whisper in the ear of his male friend, "This horny devil would sure like to indulge in mundane amours with her--Dr. Foxy." They both snickered.

Finding it harder and harder to control her annoyance with the disrespectful attitude she psychically sensed from them, Camilla continued. "The angels Melville was referring to are called 'The Sons of God' in Genesis chapter six. They came down from heaven and had sex with the women of the world, just like Zeus and all the virgins he ravished. The children that resulted from these unions were the Nephilim of the Bible: giants, men of renown, or the heroes of Greek myth. Such an unholy union of the divine and human worlds, however, is dangerous: it led to sinful excesses, and God destroyed the world with the Flood. Such is the bad influence of semi-divine people like Fedallah over madmen like Captain Ahab. Then again, maybe Fedallah's father was a devil, as Melville seemed to be suggesting in my last quote."

"This horny devil would like to father her kids," that impertinent young man whispered in his friend's ear.

"This teacher would like you to pay attention!" she snapped at him suddenly. Everyone looked at her in shock. She took a deep breath, and continued. "Anyway, so Melville is saying that those who imagine they're one with the gods, be it from a spiritual or a sexual union, they're really at one with devils, who are constantly screwing with our minds and bodies--"

This last reference to devils was a cue for the masked men, who suddenly used their psychic powers to release the spirits of Marcel, Carl, Ms. Callahan, Alex, and Cameron.

The invisible hands of these spirits grabbed Camilla and started undressing her right in front of all of her students. Marcel undid the buttons of her black dress shirt, to the delight of the male students and lesbian. Her shirt was pulled off quickly, with a wiggle of Camilla's tits and an agape look of terror in her eyes and mouth.

The young men all cheered. "Whoa!" one of them shouted. "Dr. Foxy is so saucy!"

Carl unzipped and pulled down her beige slacks, revealing pink lace panties. The lecherous students licked their lips and got out their cell-phones, setting them either to video or to camera for still photos.

"Oh, what beautiful undies!" another of the young men shouted.

The women students, all except the lesbian, tried to stand and go up to Camilla to help her get dressed, or at least to cover her: they were psychically forced to stay put in their seats and say nothing.

The invisible hands of Callahan's spirit removed Camilla's high heels, and got her feet out of the leg-holes of her pants. Alex pulled down her panties, revealing her 'Goth' black pubic hair. Those four spirits then made Camilla lie on the floor with her legs spread open wide and raised up, so everyone could see her dark purple pussy and black asshole. The spirit of Cameron just stood by and enjoyed his Candaulism.

The lecherous students, always getting pics and video of their naked prof, just looked in amazement at her body. She was 34, but--inexplicably to them--she looked ten years younger. Her smooth, pale 'Goth' skin and black hair fascinated them, as did the terror in her wide-open, black eyes.

The spirit of Marcel got behind her and slid his invisible cock in her asshole. Her mouth was as wide open as her asshole was, and she wished she wasn't enjoying it. Carl plunged his cock in her pussy, while Alex fed his ghost-cock into her mouth. Ms. Callahan's ghost sucked on one nipple while pinching the other; soon, both mouth and fingers would trade places.

Camilla's students stared in amazement at this bizarre spectacle: it was so shocking, and yet so titillating, to have their professor's exposed asshole and pussy widening before their very eyes.

What is happening? one woman student wondered. Are a bunch of ghosts gang-raping her? I don't even believe in ghosts. Anyway, I wish I could help her. This must be so humiliating.

One young man watched her wide-open mouth, with its bulge going in and out of her cheek. He thought, It's like the poking tongue of someone jokingly miming fellatio. But this must be real: is it a ghost's cock? Anyway, Camilla's tongue was flickering away, and her wet lips slid up and down the invisible phallus.

The lesbian was fingering herself as she saw what seemed to be saliva on one of Camilla's black nipples; then there was saliva on the other. Something's sucking her tits, the lesbian thought; But what?

The young men continued with their getting video and picture-taking. Some tried to get up close to feel her up, but they felt a psychic barrier stopping them. They could look, but not touch.

"This is so going online!" one man yelled. "Yeah!"

Camilla squealed and squealed as she felt all those invisible cocks pumping in and out of her holes, faster and faster. Though this whole situation was a nightmare for her, it was a thrilling nightmare, for her pussy was dripping wet. Soon, she came in several gushing arcs on the floor, inspiring more cheers from the young men. Then the spirits, with Cameron's help, turned her over so she was on all fours, with her legs spread and her ass pointed out so both holes were staring at her students, like the eyes of a tilted head. The ghosts resumed their gang-banging.

Now Callahan's invisible pussy was in Camilla's face, and Camilla was psychically forced to lick and suck on the labia and clitoris. Carl's invisible cock slid inside her asshole, while Alex shoved his cock aggressively inside her pussy. She felt no pain from his ramming, for she was as wet as could be without orgasming again. Marcel squeezed her breasts around his invisible cock; Cameron just watched contentedly, as usual.

At least now, with her ass pointing out at her students, and facing the blackboard, Camilla didn't have to see the eyes of the people before whom she was being degraded. The one good thing she could always rely on from the masked men, or from the incubi and succubi who attacked her--once in her sleep, now in the daytime--was a good fuck. Since the spirits' and masked men's collective psychic powers dwarfed her own abilities, there was nothing she could do to stop the gang-bang from reaching its conclusion; but she figured she'd might as well at least enjoy the sex.

Those cocks rammed in and out of her pussy and ass faster and faster, as was Marcel's accelerating cock wrapped between her tits. Camilla slid her tongue inside Callahan's invisible vagina, reaching for her G-spot and tickling it as frantically as she could, in the hopes of getting the bitch's ghost off as quickly as possible.

After several more minutes of intense fucking, Camilla came again, splashing all over the floor between her legs. The men cheered one more time. The spirits disappeared as abruptly as they'd arrived.

"That was in-fucking-credible!" one of the young men shouted.

"The Fox is a better sex slut than I could ever--" another young man began, before being jerked up from his seat.

Suddenly, all the students were psychically compelled to get up, go over to where Camilla was, and get down on the floor on all fours.

"What the fuck--?" said the lesbian as her head was psychically forced to move closer to Camilla's pussy. She soon stopped worrying and just enjoyed what she was being forced to do: lap her professor's pussy clean of all its come.

The other students were compelled to bend down and lap up all of Camilla's come off the floor. They all just kept on lapping and lapping, until all of the come was drunk up, replaced by everyone's saliva.

As all the licking and lapping went on, everyone in the room except Camilla could hear voices chanting these words, over and over again: Support the Green Party, always. Camilla still couldn't move a millimetre; she couldn't even cry.

Finally, when all the come was lapped up, the students were made to get up and return to their seats. Naked Camilla was then freed. Immediately, she began using her own psychic powers. She visualized those screaming, tiny stars in her students' ears, the ones she'd used to subdue Mrs. Holland many years before. Everyone except Camilla covered his ears in agonizing pain, and wondered when all the witchcraft would end.

Then, a few seconds later, Camilla used Nigrovum to freeze everyone within earshot in a tableau. No one in the classroom could move or even perceive what was happening except Camilla. The same was true of anyone outside the room who was within earshot: the surrounding classrooms and hallways were full of people in suspended animation; and if anyone walked into that area, wondering why everyone had frozen in his tracks, those entering people would also be as motionless and as temporarily without perception as everyone already in it.

Now Camilla was safe to express herself. "Why?!" she screamed. "Why are you torturing me like this?! Who are you?! What do you want?! Why won't you leave me alone?! Just...leave me alone." She curled up on the floor in a fetal position and sobbed for several minutes. "I can't take this anymore," she wept softly. "I wanna die: forever sleep." She could feel those invisible boulders of despair weighing down on her, as they had done Cameron and Candice.

'To die, to sleep,' said a voice in her head. 'To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub.'

If you let yourself die, said another voice, you'll be in hell, an eternal nightmare, we assure you. Gang-bangs like this one for all eternity, with a large audience to watch you and have no sympathy for you. You don't want that, now, do you? At least here, it's only temporary, and you can make all your students forget what happened and erase what's on their cell-phone cameras. Come, come, Camilla: pull yourself together, get dressed, and carry on as usual, as you always do.

Realizing that the masked men were right, Camilla psychically imagined those boulders of despair slowly disappearing, one by one. After the last one was gone, she got up and put her clothes back on. She got a Kleenex from her pocket, blew her nose, and dried her tears. Then she visualized everyone in the classroom forgetting everything that had happened just after she'd said, "...devils, who are screwing with our minds and bodies." She also visualized all the cell-phone pics and video of her nakedness disappearing forever.

She took several deep breaths and pulled herself together, visualizing that emotionally numbing psychic dome she always used to remove her feelings of trauma. Next, she surrounded herself with a psychic barrier that she hoped would be even stronger than the one she'd made after her incident a year before, when invisible fingers had masturbated her to orgasm, and she was forced to strip naked for two of her male students. She hoped, in spite of what seemed utter futility, that this barrier would be strong enough to keep the masked men out of her life for much more than a mere year.

Finally, she unfroze everyone, and resumed her lecture. As the students listened to her, they couldn't understand why they had the taste of someone's come in their mouths.

Whatever their political opinions had been before that day, though, they now all feared Muslim terrorism so much, they'd support the Green Party's ongoing wars with the Arab world for 'as long as it would take'.


That night, Camilla was at home, and she went up to see her son in his bedroom. The large boy, now fifteen, had just finished painting a picture of his mother, and was signing it 'Eros Neville M'.

She knocked on his door. "Sweetie?" she asked. "May I come in?"

"Sure, Mom," he said, opening the door for her. "Actually, I want you to see a new picture I painted."

"Oh?" she asked as she walked in his room. "And is your homework done?"

"Oh, yeah," he said. "It was easy, as always."

She walked over to see his painting. "That's my genius boy; always the academic star--" She gasped at the sight of the picture he'd painted. Her photographic memory ensured she'd have no doubt about what she recognized.

Eros' painting looked exactly, stroke for stroke, like the first painting Carl had done of her back in Vancouver, when she was eighteen! All of it was anatomically accurate, the only changes being that of her blonde hair, blue eyes, peach skin, et cetera, now changed to the 'Goth' look Nigrovum had given her. Even her fingernails and toenails were pitch black.

"What do you think?" he said with a proud grin, too intoxicated by her beauty to scan her feelings and sense her shock.

"It's...really good," she stammered. Now he could feel her negative reaction, and was frowning. "A little too good, actually. Sweetie, nice boys don't paint pictures like this of their mommies."

"Well, I, I thought you'd like it," the sensitive boy said, holding back his sobs.

"I know you worked hard at it, baby; but we can't show it to the public. It's indecent. Please cover it and hide it." She left the room, still blushing.

"Sorry," he said, softly crying.

She went into her bedroom and sat on her bed. Well, he does have Carl's energy in him, she thought. I wanted him to have Carl's talent and genius when I used Nigrovum to create Eros in my womb. When he was born, he was perfect...a little too perfect. I guess my one oversight was--apart from making him too big--in using the energy of all my favourite lovers to create Eros. I forgot that their energy was all of lust for me. I'll have to watch my boy more carefully, psychically blocking him more and more, to make sure he never acts on his desires.

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