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 Serious Witchcraft using freaks......A tale of the Evil Fag-Hag...

   'Girls night out' was how Filly described it.  Stallion Freddy's
committed cross-dressing black queen and consort.  The Fag-Hag even
sanctioned their relationship.  Some Wicca rite and ring ceremony,
performed with her suburban coven of space-cadets awhile back.

   Filly is athletic looking, tall and muscle toned, a looker but with an
ex-convict edgy attitude showing sometimes.  A strong-arm queen bee and
enforcer, amid Stallion Freddy's live in posse.

   Those healthy handsome young vegan dudes, robust and openly gay jocks,
who comprised the gay stallion's warehouse staff.  Besides the man's other
new-age business ventures, is Stallion Freddy's devoted life mate.  This
ebony skinned Amazon warrior princess, and often seen with the boyfriend's
latest sexual conquest.

   This time a smaller, suburban white youth, formerly this eighteen year
old male redhead and party buddy.  For this band of edgy bearded, older
drug-dealing bikers.  Now blushing at me and some other (openly gay) party
creatures; the patrons of a certain occult bookstore (and party scene) who
knew him from before.

   An experienced femme now wearing leggy nylons, girly shorts and sandals,
this most radical redheaded pussycat, 'She' was walking now manicured hand
in hand.  With the boyfriend's muscle toned and devoted black queen.  I
figured those two were sexually active a month ago.  Filly appears to be in
cahoots sometimes, with the witchy on steroids Fag-Hag.

   In the black queen's sanctioned relationship with the gay stallion, it
was understood that Stallion Freddy was free to roam.  Pursue his greater
sexual needs, while Filly was entitled to check out the new guys.  Like a
library, probably, because the gay stallion's made over girly, redheaded
pussycat fell head over (higher) heels into love.

   A wickedly complicated gay one, and way out of his league!  A turned out
femme displaying 'her' newly pierced, tongue and ornament the last time I
noticed them two 'girlfriends' together.  "It helps our pet when it comes
to performing oral sex." The athletic and foxy dark princess purred to
explain.

   "Because Filly loves to cream me!" Our nylon leggy beet top in sandals
spoke up excitedly.  In soprano voice and naughty ass proud, one most
satisfied teen-age femme, that was last week.  Now the two were sitting
kissy close again.

   This regal and tall looking, muscle toned and handsome black queen,
wearing mid calf length woollen skirt with metallic sandals.  Filly was
sporting this exotic 'Cleopatra' hair do.  Displaying a salon fashioned
array of tasteful white beads with longish black corn-rows.

   'She' begins sitting on this single kitchen chair first, with darker
manicured hands in control again.  Powerful queen arms steering this
delightful beet-top pansy around, a foxy tart with tight spandex shorts.

   Perching atop the ebony she-he's lap, our pretty pansy redhead settling
down - on the wild horns of forbidden love.  "Care for a drink?" I offer,
knowing full well neither was allowed to.  Because their mean 'old man',
Stallion Freddy despised the use of drugs or alcohol.

   But we all knew, the (formerly macho) boy-toy got high before.  "I
better not." This top-knotted ponytail redhead proclaims, in nice soprano
voice and girly sweet.

   As a skirt-chasing male delinquent, he seldom refused a beer before. 
Not while hanging out with his macho gang, now this emerging gay fruit is
seriously hooked up, has rules.  ""YEA!  You BETTER NOT!" The sitting
strong and dominant queen bee scolds:

   "I remember when my wild love pet used to party macho with the LOSERS!
Sucking up to them bearded ugly, older hoods - and pretending to be a MAN!"
And soon our pretty lover boy begins blushing, a pansy in blossom and
wilting on the lap of romantic destiny.

   Cheeky firm pink shorts squirming on the wild horn, of 'her' sensational
butch she-he and black mistress, who was saying to the rest of us: "My
clueless naughty ass love pet.  'She' needs to date other boys - and soon!"


   "You just wanna dump me!" Filly's shorts and sandals wearing hottie
moans.  Swinging 'her' girly tight buns atop this dominant lap to utter
face to face, with most radical pierced tongue showing off in sexual
frustration:
"And right after Stallion Freddy pushed me off of our bed!  Telling me
to act more like a groupie - for his other boys!" "You NEVER put out for
THEM!" This ruling warrior princess growls, while showing off reptilian

snarl.  This enraged cross-dressing bully, displaying his venom:

   "Your tighty buns only wiggle around for tease.  And coming on to our
nakedly cute jocks - right in the showers!  Our live-in posse calls you
'The Ice Queen', Get it?" And the cowering ponytail pansy begins looking
downward, top-knotted longer red hair bouncing on the seat, of harsh tranny
butch authority.

   I was thinking that Filly could be rather assertive.  Probably due to
his need for control, Stallion Freddy's live-in tribe of mostly gay vegan
warehouse staff.  An occult-savvy businessman, the gay stallion's ability
to seduce the younger, emerging gay males was remarkable.

   Becoming his cadre of healthy handsome college-age youths, who shared
living inside the man's clubhouse in the far suburbs.  "You'll still be my
bedroom pet, darling." Filly breaks the silence to reassure 'her'.

   While our perching pretty one perks up at once.  As if eager to repair
any relationship damage and totally relieved.  "But NO MORE 'Ice Queen!' Do
you hear me?" "yes" Our emotionally beat up little pussycat meekly answers,
with lovely red ponytail pointing submissively downward.

   This made over pretty lap doll, still reluctant to do other boys it
seems.  That seldom happens in Stallion Freddy's live in tribe.  This
youthful former drinking buddy of ours, who once lusted after the girls
while he partied with the macho edgy crowd; Now a very much in love and
intensely deflowered sissy, is yet a shrinking violet when it comes to
branching out.

   Usually it only takes a matter of days, for the latest Stallion Freddy
(same-sex) romantic conquest, to do the other, high strung and insecure
lover boys.  This peachy faced little pansy in blossom, perching on the lap
of romantic destiny, as the powerful tall ebony queen explains:

   "I really do need my man sometimes, hunny.  And my man believes you
should find one for yourself.  Or should I?" "But Freddy's boys are SO MEAN
to ME!" The perching redhead begins to whine.  A most soprano voice of teen
angst.

   Filly's loyal girly sidekick was feeling pressured, with cheeky pink
shorts on the horns of a dilemma.  "Listen Pet!" This imposing ebony
mistress explains as if to scold.  With annoyed skirted loins, jolting the
pansy wallflower upwards.  Filly laying down the law:

   "You only get ONE more chance - to make out and fit in with our posse,
of available hunky guys.  Or else you can pack up your make-up bag and go!
What's it to be, girlfriend?"

   "I think I know your type." Filly accuses, more soprano voiced and
friendly.  "You always used to laugh and hang with the meanest, of bearded
older fuckers.  And you've been locking horns here, with our larger and
more hairy of muscle bears.  Who's that hunky hairy older guy in the gym,
the one who's teasing you all the time?

   And now I heard you've really been teasing him back - like inside the
naked shower scene!" "He pushed me there!" Filly's perching pantywaist
teaser exclaims.  With pinkish lips fluttering in denial, "Him and some
other guys."

   "But you were wagging your tail at them." An amused ruling queen
interrupts.  "The muscle hunks tell me everything, you know?" "Ox" some
boozed up faggot at my party laughs...  "NO!  I mean I just tease them -
cuz ... ..They tease me....honest!"

   The passive aggressive little pansy fruit, didn't like Filly's line of
questioning.  I was almost impressed though.  Because our made over lovely,
beet top girly one was having cold feet.  But reluctantly, our totally
subdued cross-dresser comes out in surrender.

   "I'll do anything to keep you!  You know I'd do anything, right?" 'She'
begins to beg.  With much wider red lips in evidence, smacking in sweet
'blow job' pout.  "I'm sure you will, pet darling." Filly answers a little
sweeter, dark manicured fingers stroking this top knotted red ponytail in
comment:
"But back at the house, Freddy and his boys are becoming fed up.  Nobody
there wants to argue with your teasing naughty girl ass, get the picture?"
One pansy doll sitting on relationship woes, and probably wanting to
protest, about how the dominant ruling mistress was treating him, but even

he knew it'd be a losing argument.

   And now we notice the muscular skirted, Afro warrior princess taking out
'her' cell phone.  While the perching love pet begins blinking up
nervously. An intensely deflowered missy, but still reluctant about fitting
in.

   "I'm not calling Ox for you, darling." Filly remarks calmly.  "That
older jock has class, and that's more than we can say for you." With
painted fingernails keying on the phone, the ruling dark queen seriously
adds:
"You should be giving our boys exactly what you'd expect from any girl.
Flirting up those sweaty, hard muscle hunks working out at our gym - then
copping a feel!  And coming on to your well-hung naked bullies - right

inside the showers!"

   "I didn't....they really pushed me...." "You're lying, aren't you?"
Filly accuses, in angry girlfriend style.  With 'her' ex-convict background
showing: "Are you telling me you never blew hot - then cold at them?  My
foxy little wallflower - and ICE QUEEN!"
And the lovely pansy redhead was blushing again.  This girly styled
ponytail fox, busted for playing spunky with the well hung handsome, openly
gay muscle jocks.  I thought it was so cute, this adorable beet top sissy,

wiggling over the gun of hard tranny girfriend questioning.

   "Your shrinking violet....My pretty gay wallflower, is going out with me
for the night." Filly reported over the cell phone.  Saying to the restless
sitting, perched pansy pet: "Here, Auntie Irene wants to speak to you."

   The Fag-Hag of course.  A devotee of the goddess of forbidden romance,
the witchy on steroids old crone looked seventy if she was a day.  The
occult always did attract a certain fan base of faggots and freaks, but the
Fag-Hag actually knew the spell book!

   Our zany but twisted occult party sister, it was all too easy to blame
it on the Fag-Hag.  For her magic spells, since lately inside our new-age
party scene, was this girly gay outbreak of fierce romance.  Between some
younger and sinfully cute (formerly rogue) males, and this posse of hunky
handsome, openly gay gym jocks.

   For these younger macho bucks, 'getting some' now meant something else,
hooking up on radical sexy dates - as bambi!  "How could she conjure up all
them harsh muscle fags?" Their bearded older (former) drinking buddies
lamented to me afterwards.  "I'm not going anywhere near the
Fag-Hag....Man!" One of the more solid, homo-hating biker goons actually
told me.

   Flexing his bulging arm and tatoos for emphasis, putting down an empty
beer on this seedy looking bar rail to explain: "Fruits and nuts like you,
Allan.  Can crash her kinds of parties, but anyone else is targeted - and
destroyed!"

   Not exactly.  But the twisted old witch probably wanted it all along. 
For the criminally minded, bearded drug-dealing outlaws to exit, her
beloved new-age party scene.  Mostly because, some troubled young men the
Fag-Hag happened to meet, probably needed 'romantic guidance'.

   Maybe that's why Filly just telephoned the Fag-Hag.  While we notice the
ponytail redhead cringing just a little, with sexy dangling nylon toes
shivering foxy off Filly's dominating skirted lap.

   But our sitting edgy femme relaxes completely, the moment we hear
squacking over this held out cell phone.  Even while cackling 'mumbo-jumbo'
from afar, the Fag-Hag's words manage to inspire certain romantic changes.
A ponytail cutie smiling now towards the ruling black queen, a girly styled
fox posing erotically at attention with cell phone in hand.

   'Her' baby blues begin lashing more radiant on this lap of joy, with the
enthusiasm of a cult follower.  Sleek nylon toes and sandals dangling a bit
more warmer too, rubbing cat like against taut-muscled and shapely, black
mistress feet.  Just another perky in love, emerging gay hottie, one not
about to make any rogue male trouble.

   Ever since the Fag-Hag decided, some wild teen males needed love flipped
for a spell - Oh Boy!  But dressing up girly 24\7 had to be a chore.  And a
young man does not acquire a taste for loving cock overnight.  It had to be
some kick-ass spell.  Even the village idiot could have figured that out by
now.

   I'm Allan Sheppard by the way, just a thirty something loser in life who
happens to be openly gay.  Another typical (almost minimum) wage-slave,
with typical crappy inner city apartment to match.

   Not really exciting, but I do get to be a drinking buddy with the
Fag-Hag.  You could learn a lot, just by listening to the Fag-Hag.  Now I
have sources, inside her coven of frustrated suburban witches.  Not exactly
sources, more like mutual friends among the Fag-Hag's beloved, occult
bookstore party scene.

   It was about the time I began hearing whispers, about this potent new
spell.  Not new exactly, but a spell from the ancient pagan priesthoods of
Mesopotamia.  Rumored to unleash this unworldly primeval force, lying
dormant for untold centuries.  Some spell never chanted nor performed
properly, since inked on this scroll in old Babylon.

   Until the defectors (and the Fag-Hag) got a hold of it, I guess you
could call them defectors.  More like this young, upscale European couple,
as the Fag-Hag's first houseguests in years.  Refugees actually, from this
demonic New World Order religion.  But I never understood any of it at
first.

   The Fag-Hag let this couple stay with her awhile.  Both were males about
age twenty-something, but one was actually a lovely male cross-dresser. 
Some fashionable brunette doll, 'She' was always sporting expensive outfits
and jewelry.

   Speaking English with a Germanic/Swiss accent, along with 'her'
boyfriend, Horst.  A ruggedly handsome young man, with blond hair closely
cropped and a physique carved through many hours of weight training.  He
could have played the role of the bad guy in a Nazi war movie.

   The occult groupies in this town fawned over the two like old world
royalty.  'Grand Druids' was a term I kept hearing whispered, whenever the
pair were introduced to insiders.  Mostly at our occult bookstore sponsored
gatherings, just a party really.  The witchcraft insiders must have thought
I was drunk at the time, not always.

   Witches can speak in English, but their words may sound confusing to the
rest of us.  'The Marduk scrolls" was supposedly a gift, from these
'Enlightened Pagans', formerly 'serving in the Grand Druid.' The insider
mumbo jumbo actually did have meaning.

   Our European visitors probably did come from the original pagan
priesthood.  With each boasting a family tree, supposedly going back to
ancient Egypt and Babylon.  It also meant the Fag-Hag wasn't the only
skilled witchcraft mason in this town, not anymore.

   But our world has legions of skilled witches.  My occult drinking sister
told me more than once, that many thousands of occult crazies really do
rule (secretly) over our fractured world.  Well organized cultist too, not
exactly fans of God nor humanity.  Those ultra rich, secretive and powerful
characters, of course.

   Misusing their stranglehold of control over central banking cartels, Big
Oil, corporate 'news' media and even education.  They enable liars and
misfits to become our national 'leaders.'

   Mostly for war, profit and world government empire-building, I'm not so
sure.  About what the Fag-Hag truly knows of our modern world - but she
DOES know about occult crazies!  I can vouch for that.  And now our local
coven has a potent new spell, is it any wonder?

   That a few little boy handsome, confident male skirt chasers are
becoming easy prey, maybe there was a new spell book in town.  Introduced
locally by the defectors, from the cabal of shadowy world overlords. 
Former Witch High Priests, misusing an ancient scroll of demonic knowledge.


   With more than enough occult firepower, to enchant some would be male
hustlers into wearing girly makeup, nylons and footwear.  Strange romantic
magick, but it was for their own good.  According to the Fag-Hag, some
wayward teen males really needed 'romantic intervention.'

   Their relationships with males before 'revolved around addictions and
criminal gangs.' Pretty faced smaller youths, with their 'emotional lives
immersed in turmoil and conflict.'

   Youths 'going through the motions' of 'mating with the opposite sex',
especially ' while 'more worthy romantic mentors' were 'very much
available.' The Fag-Hag uttered to me and more, during drunk talk.

   She seemed to approve of Stallion Freddy's live in posse as some new-age
dating pool.  Them young and robust male jocks, who happened to be openly
gay, those handsome dudes who worked out at the gym and had a real job.

   Stallion Freddy's younger male cohorts, who actually took an interest in
further education, the Fag-Hag actually believed hunky gay suitors 'could
inspire' her 'problem boys.' I guess some did.

   But what to do about it?  Serious witchcraft using freaks were active in
our town.  I wasn't going to do anything.  One reason, the Fag-Hag really
is a drinking buddy of mine.  Besides that: Few guys I knew were in favor
of a witch hunt - Not smart against the Fag-Hag!







   The end for now......over and out...  Reporting to you from the front
lines...of our local witchcraft problem.....  ......yours truly

   To be continued........













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