The plane ride was the easy part... but what came next was the hardest part of Brody's entire life, thus far. While taking a rainy smoke break on a steep hill, Brody slipped down wet grass and hit her head on a stump. The left side of her skull was immensely damaged, and her brain began to bleed. She lost consciousness, and in her dreams, could scarcely remember her own name. Soon, she dreamt...

...that she was sitting in her armchair, reading news articles on her phone. Everything was going to hell, and the GOP was sipping a cool, refreshing Pinebrew to the flaming screams of Californian citizens and Texan inmates. Suddenly, and without warning, a green hogman manifested like an angry spirit within her, and showed her visions inside her own vulva – as if on a television inside her. It was Aurson Wumpet, colluding with a hooded figure she recognized from Space Battler 3. Then the hogman climbed out of her body, and tried to mate with her – she fought it back with her mind, but it was too late, and it took her. There, in her armchair, she was raped – as real as if she'd been awake. She sat there, waiting for it to stop, unable to believe it. And when it didn't stop, this ghostly intrusion, she left off the chair and shook her head – it was gone. Terrified, she looked around. There was no one. Feeling ashamed and unclear, she went for a shower, and found herself watching in horror as an orange hogman walked from a portal in her wall, and into her shower, and groped her breasts without so much as a hello. She yelled, and it grabbed her belly. She closed her eyes, and prayed – and it was gone. But not the memory, which now stained her. Frustrated, but without rescue, she lay in the tub and tried to masturbate, only for a blue hogman to interrupt her at the moment of climax, and ruin it. She got out and found it trying to lick her vagina from behind, like a dog. It got her once, in one stomach-dropping lick, but only once. She tried to use the toilet, and a head rose up from it – it was her father, Krinjec, but with skin as red as Satan. She flushed him down and pushed out her shit as fast as she could before he came back, then went to wipe – but the paper was imprinted with Lista's face, in dots. Not wanting to treat her girlfriend like shit, she turned it around to use it, and left. She felt safe outside the bathroom, and took a deep breath... she, wrapped in a towel with wet feet, started to wonder if it was all a hallucination; only to see Maslaina Wipestain in an adult diaper and nothing else, standing in the kitchen, groove-dancing and demanding to be seen. To irritate the observer, and for no other reason. Celebrities stood around her, faces Brody knew from TV and movies, eating pizza, ice cream, and hot-dogs. Small children played at their ankles, holding balloons. Maslaina puked on herself, and the celebrities took turns making out with her, and puked all over each other in unerotic malecstasy. Then they disappeared, all of them, in a flash. So Brody went to sleep... and woke up in Wipestain Manor. It was dark, and there were bright white lights above her... but somehow, it was still so dark. And she was nude, with her hands tied in front of her. In front of her was a mirror – she was someone else, blonde as well, with a different face – and scared blue eyes. Then, her dream went from nightmare to night terror. Within minutes of being examined for 'usefulness' by the Prince of England, Narrty Boykens, who pressed her cheeks together, flicked her nipples, and then squeezed the tip of her cock, she was left in the cold. Somehow, in her stupidest thoughts, she felt a sadness that she hadn't been 'chosen'. But where the hell could such a feeling have come from? Then, a hand on her head. She turned her head in horror to see a younger Aurson Wumpet, of thirty years old, behind her. To his credit, he'd been a looker back then. But she knew how his story ended, and didn't want to be a part of it. Jiffy, naked as the day he was born, walked by and waved, girls on leashes behind him. He wore a collar himself, but it was unchained. Before she knew what was happening, she was being raped over and over by Aurson, then passed on to Prince Narrty – who preferred sloppy seconds, for he liked the feel of removing another man's cum with his cock. The rape seemed to go on for days, as she was passed between men, and each encounter she wore a different face – some light, some dark, some young, some old – some huge, and some so tiny. But none who could speak for themselves. The horror went on, and on, and she saw from their eyes and felt their bodies as they were taken onto couches, made to fellate their enslavers under a desk, and then beat over the heads with belts, fists, and the mere likeness of the men and women who'd brutalized them. She recognized some of them, yet again, including a blonde-haired dyke with a talk show. When they were bruised and demoralized, Jiffy would jump at them and shout, demanding his massage and berating them for having free will.
"What do I keep you worthless whores for, anyway?! You think you matter to me? Get over there."
And his wife, back then more commonly seen in an elegant gown, would gag and beat them for nothing, while they squirmed and moaned. And though the children cried and screamed, those too young to understand, those older did not. And the worst part was: they loved it. It was what they were there for, aside from what was promised to be money, and was then imprisonment. And Brody was learning something about humans she wished she hadn't: men crave violence, and women crave sex. And men will take sex to do violence, as women will accept violence to give sex. Worse than that, Brody's own body within theirs was betraying her. It wanted what was happening, even though her mind and romance didn't. And that was a betrayal of the self, to mere urge. Brody could see plain as day what people were, when left in a private barn: squealing pigs, rutting each other's backs. And the biggest ones got the smallest mates, to tight themselves pleased. And the smallest ones cried for the biggest, to break themselves open with harm they couldn't help but beg for. Those who were not able to be torn below were considered 'unripe', and tossed in a pile for later. Brody's last nightmare was after she'd run from the rape, to a secluded part of the manor, and was herself again. She found herself reading a book, clothed once more, in a waiting room. It was the bible, grabbed from an end table. But as soon as she opened its leather cover, something was wrong. Every page was stained with blood, shining leaves of paper too red to read, and every mention of Him was scribbled over in black pen. A blank page next said only these words: "DO NOT TRUST IN THE LORD. LORDS ARE NEVER GODS." On the back was the numbers 666, and a ring with a star, which slowly rotated around. Brody turned the book around, trying to keep the star upright – but it wouldn't go, even when turned. Then it was a pentagram, and 999. The nines morphed into g's, and soon it read: 'god's gambling games'. On the front again was not the words 'HOLY BIBLE', but 'HOLE BABBLE'. Again to the back, and it said, 'Godless Genesis Grasp'. Then the book bled, and from it reached two eyeballs on tendonous strands, which looked her up and down. Then it summoned a mouth of eel's fangs and a hog's face, to try and fellate her through her jeans without so much as a 'hello'. Looking up at her was some kind of sow, biting at her pants. She wretched with sickness at the sight, and tore away from the chair, throwing the book on the ground where it landed with a sloppy, bloody 'squelch'. Then, standing in the doorway, was Breton's Asmodeus; who in a flash, was then Aurson Wumpet himself, now around fifty years of age. He got on his knees and crawled over, and attempted the very same thing, while mumbling:
"Please don't take my tower, please don't eat my food, please don't tell them the story about the p-"
She grimaced, and turned away, with a cold shiver – but he took her from behind, tore off her pants, and took her from behind. And inside her screamed horror.
"This is WRONG!!" she shrieked. "This can't be- why isn't anyone HELPING ME?!"
But then his mask came off, as did his disguise. And it was a black reptilian man, with great yellow eyes and razor-sharp teeth, and a long, spineal tail.