Charmed: Harmed Part 5 (M/FF,ncon,demon,fist,racial,viol,mc?)
by Pred

"So you never told us," Prue spoke to Leo as she stood in the center of the
pentagram drawn on the attic floor. "How does this cloaking spell work?
Will I look different? Talk different? I'm not going to become a man again,
am I?" Prue joked, making a reference to a previous identity-changing spell
that had given her masculine features... with all the attachments.

"This spell will be similar," Leo didn't look up from the Book of Shadows.
He'd been studying the verses for the last few minutes, committing every word
to memory. Everything needed to go smoothly, perfectly. "Your outward
appearance may be altered slightly. The spell will give you a cloak,
effectively covering your previous identity with a new one. It will change
the way you talk, how you carry yourself, your outward attitude and behavior.
Behind the cloak, though, you'll still be the same person..."

"In other words it won't effect my thoughts," Prue half-asked.

"Not inwardly, no," Leo replied. "When the spell takes effect, it will be
like you're watching yourself in a movie. Just go with the flow. Don't
think about what you're doing or saying, no matter how... disturbing it might
seem. Remember, while you're wearing the cloak Prue will cease to exist. By
all outward appearances, you'll be a different person."

"And what kind of person will that be?" Prue couldn't help but ask.

"For this spell to really protect you, we'll need to make you the EXACT
OPPOSITE of the person you are. Where you're kind, the cloak will make you
cruel. Where you're moral, the cloak will make you immoral..."

"Fun..." Piper chimed in with a half-grin. "Kind of like a vacation from

"Exactly," Leo nodded. "Let the spell guide your actions, Prue. If you
start trying to control the cloak, you'll tear through the fabric of glamour,
and the cloak will fall off. When that happens, it's gone. You can't put it
on again."

"Okay..." Prue still looked a little confused.

"The most important thing to keep in mind is your purpose... to get those
files and find out what Destiny's power source is," Leo explained patiently.
"WHO you are doesn't matter, just the task at hand. The cloak will allow you
to do and say whatever you need to accomplish your mission, as long as you
don't start questioning it. Remember..."

"Let the spell guide my actions," Prue finished the White Lighter's thought.
"Okay, I get it. Let's just get this over with."

Prue straightened her stance in the pentagram's center. Leo and Piper stood
at her front and back respectively, clasping hands, their feet just touching
the circle circumscribed around the perimeter of the five-pointed star.
Taking a brief moment of silence to collect their thoughts and wills, they
all exhaled in unison before Leo began the incantation:

"Under darkness, inside night,
Let this cloak hide from sight.
One is gone, another appears
Opposite in every sphere."

As Leo and Piper repeated the chant over and over, Prue felt everything
inside and outside her body begin to swirl. It was like simultaneously
standing in both the throes and the eye of a violent hurricane. The world
around her was exactly the same, yet drastically altered. She found herself
wrapped deep within the folds of reality while at the same time dangling on
its periphery.

"Prue?" Piper asked, she and Leo stepping back from the pentagram. Already
they were suspiciously eyeing the woman smirking back at them through a coat
of jet-black lipstick. She was Prue, yet she wasn't Prue.

Instead of the tasteful, albeit low-cut black dress Prue Halliwell had
been wearing, the woman standing in her place was dressed in a red leather
jacket, black leather mini-skirt, speckled fishnet stockings, and stiletto
heels. Only a sheer, black sports bra covered her ample, tattooed breasts,
and through the translucent material one could easily detect that her
nipples were scored with multiples piercings. In fact, she had piercings
everywhere - her nose, her eyebrows, her lower lip, her cherry-red tongue.
All this was capped off by a sleek, close-cropped bob of jet-black hair and
Veronica Lake-style bangs that dipped low over her left eye.

Getting no response the first time, Piper tried again. "Prue?"

"I don't know who the fuck you're talking to, bitch, but it ain't me," the
cloaked Prue spit. "And what the hell kind of name is Prue anyway? Sounds
like Prude or something..."

"I'm sorry," Leo spoke calmly. "We were mistaken. What is your name?" he
asked matter-of-factly.

"Rue," she sneered at him. "What's yours? Sally?"

"Leo," he replied, playing along.

"Is that Leo, as in Leo the homo?" Rue shot back.

Piper snorted, unable to stifle a giggle.

"You think that's funny, bitch?" Rue glared at the middle Halliwell sister.

In a second, Prue's doppelganger was in Piper's face, looking down on the
shorter woman and leering. Before Piper could back off, Rue reached out
and grabbed at Piper, pinching her face between her blood-red, talon-like
fingernails, squeezing until Piper's lips puckered out.

"How 'bout I shove this giggly little mouth of yours in my shaved cunt and
wipe that grin off your fucking face?" Rue jeered at her shaking prey. "Huh,
slut? How'd you like a mouth full of hot wet pussy?" With her free hand,
she now sliced her sharp fingernails down Piper's quivering cheek, drawing
a thin sliver of blood. "Mmm, cherry," Rue sneered, scooping up a drop of
blood on the end of her middle finger and sucking it between her painted
black lips. "Want a taste?" she snickered, catching another droplet of blood
on her middle fingernail and thrusting the digit into Piper's mouth.

"Uhhlll..." Piper blubbered unintelligibly through her scrunched-up mouth.
In horror, she felt Rue start licking her cheek again, shuddering as Rue's
mouth worked down her chin and settled on her alabaster neck.

"You have such a pretty little mouth," Rue whispered between sharp nips
at Piper's exposed throat. "Fuck the pretty little mouth." she giggled,
thrusting her sharp, blood-spattered finger between Piper's lips. In a
second, she was screwing her middle finger in and out of Piper's mouth,
building up the rhythm as Piper instinctively slobbered and suckled.
"That's it..." Rue cajoled her terrorized victim. "That's a good little
slut... suck it, just like you suck a cock."

Frozen in terror, Piper could only shudder as the fingernails on Rue's other
hand began to rake across Piper's flimsy white blouse. "Uh... L..Leo..?" she
whimpered when Rue withdrew her finger from Piper's mouth with a 'pop!.'

"Did I say you could talk, slut?" Rue scolded Piper, then slapped her mouth
over Piper's mewling lips.

While Piper tried to fight her off, Rue mashed into Piper's teeth with a
snarling kiss, snapping down on Piper's tongue with her sharp incisors.
Drawing blood, Rue snickered, then spit a glob of crimson-tinged mucous into
Piper's bleary eyes.

Realizing now that Leo wasn't coming to her aid, Piper could only bawl
helplessly as Rue continued her assault. With one hand, Prue's doppelganger
continued mauling Piper's pert tits. Meanwhile, Rue's other hand tore at the
snaps of Piper's jeans. Squirming in Rue's embrace, Piper tried to fight
back, but her attacker was too strong. Rue yanked down Piper's zipper and
tugged the denim over the smaller woman's hips.

"Nice fucking ass, slut!" Rue hissed, jabbing her studded tongue in Piper's

Piper felt Rue's fingernails shred her cotton panties like gossamer, then
dig into the meat of her ass, pricking her soft flesh like five, tiny,
razor-sharp daggers. Still trying desperately to push Rue away, Piper's
struggles only seemed to arouse her assailant further. In another second,
one of Rue's fingers sliced up into Piper's pussy, which was surprisingly
and embarrassingly wet.

"That gets you all wet, doesn't it, cunt?" Rue baited Piper, finger-fucking
the smaller woman and ramming her tongue-stud into Piper's ear. "Doesn't

"Please..." Piper gasped. This was the single most horrible ordeal she had
ever experienced, even worse than being raped earlier that day. Whereas Dan
Gordon had been a trusted friend, Prue was her sister... HER SISTER. * Why
doesn't she just stop?! * Piper wailed to herself. "Please... just stop...
please... "

"Not until you get down on your knees and eat my cunt, you little slut!"
The cloak around Prue had turned Piper's older sister into a carnal monster.
Impatient with her small, shivering victim, Rue grabbed a hank of Piper's
hair, wrapped it around her hands and wrists like a leash, then dragged Piper
face-first to the ground. "You heard me, slut!" Rue's stiletto heels
stomped on Piper's toes, forcing the younger Halliwell off balance until she
collapsed to her knees. "Now come and get it, bitch," Rue ordered.

Piper shook her head frantically, but to no avail. Prue's doppelganger was
going to show her no mercy. She yanked Piper's hair again, then delivered a
swift kick to the smaller woman's stomach.

Her eyes now crazed with tears, Piper looked up helplessly between Rue's
legs. "No... stop... God please," Piper sobbed. But her attacker, her own
sister, just smirked, lifting her black leather mini-skirt to reveal a
shaved, pierced, pantyless pussy.

"Noooo..." Piper protested pathetically, trying to tear her eyes away from
the glistening gash that hovered inches from her bawling mouth.

"Yes!" Rue spit in Piper's eye again then yanked up on her hair, driving
Piper's sobbing lips into her slick, wet cunt. "You know what to do, slut!
Now eat that cunt," Rue hissed, humping and mashing her clit into Piper's
sobbing mouth. "I said EAT IT!" One hand was now around Piper's throat,
strangling her, coercing the middle Halliwell sister to lavish her tongue
across every inch of pussy she tasted. "That's it, slut. Eat it! Come on.
Lick that pussy, lick it all up..."

As she verbally abused Piper, Rue continued humping her victim's mouth
furiously. By now, Piper had guessed that Leo was going to do nothing that
might cause Prue to drop her cloak. He would let nature run its course, and
when Rue was done with Piper she would move on with the task of getting into
Destiny Enterprises, finding the files and locating the demons' power source.

This meant that the sooner Piper made Rue cum, the sooner Rue would move on.
And the sooner Rue moved on, the sooner Piper could go find Jenny, and the
sooner they could save Phoebe and the whole world from plunging into the
Abyss. Tears streaming down her face, Piper tried to gain her composure,
fighting the nausea heaving up inside her. * Just do it, * Piper told
herself. * You can do this... *

It wasn't like Piper Halliwell had never gone down on a woman before.
Actually it hadn't been a woman, but a girl... her own younger sister as a
matter of fact.

Piper's one and only lesbian experience had happened well over ten years ago
now, back when she and Phoebe had been in their early tens. They had both
gotten carried away during one of their beddy-bye "storytime" sessions.
Piper had buried her memories of the event back in one of her dark corners,
but they now surfaced across her consciousness in living technicolor.

It had all started innocently enough. Phoebe had somehow managed to shoplift
a bottle of Boon's Farm wine from the grocery store, and giddy teenage
rebellion the two had proceeded to get bombed. Lying next to each other on
Phoebe's bed, entertaining each other with dirty stories told in hushed
whispers, they guzzled the apple-flavored alcohol while their frantic fingers
strummed their ripe young pussies.

Drunk on cheap vino and adolescent hormones, neither considered what they
were doing or how far afield they were venturing. Lost in lust, their private
passions spilled over the sheets until they found themselves locked together,
joined at the lips. In another instant, they were exploring each other's
curves and crevices -- first with anxious fingers, then with trembling

Phoebe, ever the wild one, had been the first to venture "down south," as she
had called it. Piper could vividly remember lying back in a drunken swoon,
the cool soft pillows soothing her hot, sweaty flesh, her nether regions
savoring every lash from her younger sister's curious tongue.

The memory was so lucid now. Piper swore she could feel her hands coursing
through Phoebe's tumbling curls. In her mind's eye, she watched again as her
eager little sister lapped at her burning clit like a mother cat cleaning her
kitten. Then there was the climax, a writhing swelter of liquid passion,
and suddenly it was Piper's turn to repay the favor. She could feel the
butterflies swarming in her tummy, her brow burning, her face lowering into
Phoebe's peach-fuzz privates. * It's happening... happening again... * Piper
acknowledged to herself.

Her face buried in Rue's shaved, soupy snatch, Piper was overwhelmed with the
onslaught of her repressed memories. It was all coming back to her now - the
heady aroma, the tangy flavor, the unquenchable thirst, the uncontrollable
desire. Yes, she had tried to resist Rue's advances, just like any "good
girl" would. But her efforts had proven feeble, downright pitiful. Now she
knew why.

Consciously, the thought of performing cunnilingus on her own sister had been
revolting. Subconsciously, though, that night with Phoebe had stayed with
Piper Halliwell all these years. In the dark corners of her mind, the
unspoken desire had festered, waiting for the opportune moment to arise.

Rue's assault had resurrected that dormant longing. Prue's transformation
suddenly gave Piper Halliwell not only the chance but the excuse to feel a
kind of closeness she had only experienced once before. Her thirst for her
own sister now rendered Piper not only helpless, but compliant.

* Oh, Prue... * Piper sighed into her sister's womb. * Sweet, sexy,
scrumptious Prue. * The tears with which Piper now watered Rue's cunt were
tears of joy, of total bliss. She nuzzled into her older sister's slick slit
and worshipped every fold and groove, smearing her face with the copious flow
that puddled in her sister's pussy.

"Fuck... YEAH!" Rue hissed, twisting Piper's hair into another knot. "Take
it, slut. Suffocate on that cunt!" Holding Piper's head motionless, Rue
bucked her hips forward, slapping her steaming snatch into Piper's blubbering
mouth. "You like watching this, don't you, fag boy!" Rue suddenly took
notice of Leo again and sneered at him.

Leo did not reply. He stood his ground stoically. His eyes were fixed
intently on the scene before him, but his face expressed no emotion. For the
second time that day, he was witnessing Piper Halliwell, the woman he loved,
succumb to her darkest most perverse desires. Her weakness disgusted him;
her enthusiasm both enthralled and enraged him.

During their short time as lovers, Piper Halliwell had NEVER exhibited such
wantonness with Leo Wyatt. In fact, despite the love he had felt for her,
their sex life had been somewhat of a disappointment. Once he had even joked
that he was going to legally change his name to "No, Leo," since that was
always how Piper seemed to address him when he was feeling even mildly
adventurous. Needless to say, she hadn't thought the comment very humorous,
and it was shortly after that she began questioning their relationship.

Aloud, Piper had always maintained the issue revolved around their respective
roles. According to the "Rules," White Lighters and their Witch charges
weren't permitted to form romantic entanglements. The relationship was
supposed to be strictly business, saving the world from Evil and all that.
Still, Piper had been quite willing to risk defying the Powers at the
beginning, which made her sudden change of heart even more exasperating.

Leo had always suspected something else lay at the bottom of her decision to
leave him. Now he believed he had figured out what that 'something else'
really was.

Leo Wyatt hadn't satisfied Piper Halliwell sexually. Judging by the looks of
things, he hadn't even been close. Their souls may have been attuned to one
another, but their bodies, their urges existed in two different universes.

Simply put, Leo hadn't been MAN enough for Piper, nor woman enough for
her, so it seemed. And now he was forced to watch as she once again
enthusiastically degraded herself in pursuit of her baser instincts. Rendered
inert by his seething rage, Leo didn't know whether he wanted to ram his cock
down Piper's throat or cave her skull in with a baseball bat. Instead of
doing either, however, he just stood by and impotently watched his ex-lover's
continuing defilement.

To assuage his guilt, Leo told himself he was doing the right thing. He
was allowing Rue to continue abusing Piper in order to protect the cloaking
spell. Keeping Prue cloaked was their only hope of securing access to
Destiny Enterprises. The fate of the universe depended on Prue maintaining
the cloak. Once she discarded it, the spell could never be duplicated again.

Deep down, however, Leo Wyatt, White Light Spirit Guide, knew the dark truth.
This wasn't about Good triumphing over Evil. Leo Wyatt wanted to see Piper
Halliwell debased and dehumanized, lowered to a state far below the emotional
ruin she'd visited upon him. So he watched... and watched... and watched.

"Take your dick out, fag boy," Rue's voice snapped Leo out of his grim
reverie. He looked at her and coldly shook his head. "I said TAKE IT OUT,
fag boy!" Rue hissed. In a second, her arms were cradled tightly about
Piper's neck. "Take it out, or I snap this slut's fucking neck!"

"L...Leo..." Piper gurgled, unable to breathe.

"You think I'm fucking kidding, faggot!" Rue challenged him. She gave a
sudden jerk, and Leo saw Piper's face contort in agony. One more crank, and
Rue would kill her sister.

* This is getting way out of hand. * Leo snapped out of the daze that had
settled over him, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation. His first
impulse was to bring Prue out of the spell, make her drop the cloak. Then he
remembered what was at stake.

Rue was the only one who could get inside Destiny Enterprises. Prue wouldn't
make it two feet inside their doors. Rue's actions were all part of the
spell taking effect. With every cruelty and depravity Rue inflicted, the
cloak wrapped tighter about her, adding layers to the glamour, making her
true identity virtually undetectable to even the most powerful demons.

Leo and Piper needed to play along with Rue for the moment, no matter what
she did. Despite her inhuman behavior, Prue was doing exactly what Leo
had instructed her to do. She was letting the spell guide her actions.
Ultimately, any sacrifices he and Piper made, any pain they suffered would
be worth it. Once Rue finished 'playing' with them, her cloak would be
impenetrable, and she would move on to the task at hand.

* Well, here goes nothing... * Biting his lip, Leo unsnapped his trousers
and tugged down the zipper.

"Woo, baby," Rue chortled. "Let's see that thang. Rip it out, big boy.
Let's see that little fag-boy worm cock." Rue released her grip on Piper's
neck and once more grabbed her hair. "Get back to work, slut," she snarled,
pressing Piper's face back into her sopping wet sluice.

This time, Piper needed no encouragement. She attacked Rue's pussy like a
ravenous she-wolf devouring a fresh kill. Her tongue was everywhere, tasting
every morsel of Rue's tangy twat. Then, her lust-drunk mind suddenly sparked
by inspiration, Piper began to work her mouth across the underside of Rue's
cunt, her sucking lips traveling back along the crack of Rue's toned,
tattooed ass.

When Rue felt Piper's tongue slip into her sphincter, she threw her head back
and howled. "Look at her, fag boy. Look at this little slut lick my ass."
Rue reached out her hand and clicked her fingernails together, centimeters
from where Leo's palm now cupped his hard, four-inch dick. "You call that a
dick, faggot ?" Prue baited him. "Huh?" Suddenly she batted away his hand,
forcing him to let go of his short, pink pecker.

Before Leo could react, Rue pinched his puny prick between her middle finger
and thumb. Her sharp fingernails bit into the veiny shaft right below Leo's

"Let's see if we can get this any longer," Rue cackled. With a savage tug,
she yanked on the White Lighter's four-inch dick, almost ripping the
genitalia from his body, balls and all.

"Ahhh," Leo blurted, tears streaming down his face as Rue continued pulling
his paltry pud like taffy.

"That's it -- CRY, you fucking faggot," Rue jeered at him. As Leo Wyatt
wept, she kept at his cock -- pulling it, pinching it, slapping it. "Fuck,
you've got a small cock," she berated him. "Doesn't he have a pathetic
little dick, slut?" Rue asked Piper. She tore Piper's head out from under
her ass and shoved Piper's face into his abused member.

"Yes," Piper suddenly spat on Leo's dick, spite glaring from her eyes. "A
pathetic, disgusting little worm dick. Just looking at it makes me want to
puke." She spit on it again.

"Suck it, slut," Rue commanded. She gripped Piper by the hair and shoved her
face down over Leo's swollen stub. "Come on, whore. Show me how you suck
cock." Standing behind Piper, Rue began ramming the smaller woman's head
back and forth over Leo's tiny tool. "Come on, cunt, you can suck better
than that," she raged at Piper. "Get that puny pud down your fucking throat.
ALL OF IT!" She ignored Piper's muffled squeals, giggling as Piper gagged
and puked over Leo's dwarfish dick.

Leo started bucking his hips forward to Piper's rhythm, sweat dripping from
his sneering lips. "Is that what you want, cunt?" The words escaped from
lips before he had a chance to stop them. Caught up in the moment, Leo
discarded his stoic self-righteousness, and just let his pent-up rage go
free. "Is that how you fucking like it? Huh?"

"SILENCE, fag-boy!" Rue spat in his face. In an instant, her sharp
fingernails were slicing into his bloated balls, threatening castration with
a mere click of her claws. "Did I fucking say you could speak, worm?" She
increased the pressure on his swollen scrotum while he yelped in agony. "You
will speak ONLY when I command. Is that clear, worm?" Her talons bit even
deeper into the soft wrinkled folds of his nut sack. "Is it?"

"Y...Yesss," Leo stammered in a high-pitched squeal. "God... yes..."

"That's 'Yes, Mistress Rue', to you, fag-boy," she leaned over and bit the
tip of his nose, hard. "Now fucking say it RIGHT, or I'll tear out your tiny
testicles and shove them down your fucking throat."

"Y...Yes, Mistress Rue," Leo blubbered.

"Fucking queer-ass, worm-dick faggot!" she continued ranting in his face.
"You need to learn proper respect. Don't you?" she sliced into his ball bag

"Yes, Mistress Rue," he moaned.

"Are you my bitch, fag-boy?" she baited him.

"Yes, Mistress Rue," he sobbed.

"Say it, cock-sucker!"

"I'm your bitch, Mistress Rue," Leo whimpered.

"You're both my bitches," Rue spat. With one hand she was still driving
Piper's head up and down Leo's swollen stub. Her other hand, however,
left Leo's scrotum, her fingernails now sinking into his tight, muscular
ass-cheeks. "Beg me, bitch," she nipped at Leo's nose again. "Beg me to
ram my fist up your ass. Come on, queer!" With no warning whatsoever, she
jabbed her fingers into Leo's shit chute, her razor-sharp claws raking the
tender flesh inside his tight ass-pipe. "Tell Mistress Rue what you want!"

"Fist me, Mistress Rue!" Leo howled. He had no idea where the words came
from, but suddenly they were there. And they felt so natural... so right.

Out of the corner of his eye, Leo saw Piper pull free of Rue's grip and
stick her head between his legs. He could feel her mocking eyes as she
watched Rue twisting her entire hand up his broken, bloody ass.

"Keep sucking, whore!" Rue snapped at Piper. She wrenched Piper's head
back between Leo's legs and then pounded her face back down around his cock.
"Suck that little worm dick while I fist his queer ass."

Sweat poured down Rue's face now as she manipulated her human puppets. With
one hand, she forced Piper to choke down Leo's cock, and with her other hand
she pounded a crater into Leo's bloody butt-crack. "Now CUM, faggot!" she
screamed in Leo's ear. "CUM now, or I'll rip that puny pud off and shove it
up your ass."

"Fffffuuucckkkk..." Leo's entire soul shuddered as he surrendered to Rue's
will. He bent his back, relaxed his urethra, and dumped a load of
spirit-spunk deep into Piper Halliwell's gurgling throat.

Drowning on his dick juice, Piper tried to jerk her head free of Leo's
spurting cock, but Rue pinned her head against the White Lighter's stomach.
While Piper squealed in protest, Rue forced her to choke down every last drop
of the Leo's seething spunk. "You take ALL that cum, slut," Rue commanded
her. "I see one drop on your lips or anywhere else, and I will ram my
fucking fist down your throat. Do you understand, whore?"

"Y...Ysggll, Mggstrsss Rggg," Piper coughed around the dick lodged in her

"You both make me sick," Rue spat. "Fucking freaks." Suddenly she released
both Leo and Piper and stepped away from them. "I've got better things to do
with my fucking time than waste it on a couple of pathetic pieces of shit
like you two." She whirled around and headed for the attic door, turning
back to them as she stepped onto the staircase. "Lick his ass clean, cunt.

"Yes, Mistress Rue," Piper bowed her head obediently.

"Bend over and stick your ass up in the air, worm," Rue ordered Leo. For
some reason, he felt compelled to comply, just as Piper felt compelled to
bury her face up his bloody butt crack. As Rue closed the attic door, she
could still hear both of them - Piper slurping and sucking, Leo moaning and
groaning - as she strutted down the staircase.

* * *

"Maybe you'd better follow RUE for a bit and make sure she doesn't get into
any serious trouble," Piper told Leo when she was sure her cloaked sister was
safely out of earshot.

"Oh... okay..." Leo groaned, trying to straighten up and push himself away
from Piper.

"Not yet, silly," Piper smacked Leo's ass hard. "You've got
to give her a head start, or she'll know you're there. We don't want
her lowering the cloak, do we...?" Piper grinned wickedly.

"No," Leo agreed, still trying to break free of Piper's hold.

SMACK!! "I'll tell you when you can go," Piper snapped at him. "Now hand me
that candle over there."

Leo reached over from his bent over position, scooped up one of the flaming
candles from the ground and handed it behind him to Piper. She grinned, then
tipped the candle sideways, letting the melted wax drip from around wick into
Leo's ravaged butt crack. The White Lighter howled like one of the Damned.

"Cool..." Piper cackled, lowering the candle and letting the flame singe the
curly hairs lining Leo's scrotum. Leo shrieked even louder. "Oh, quit your
whining, fag-boy," Piper snarled. "When I'm through, you can wave your magic
hands, transfer your healing power to me, and I can make all those burns and
cuts disappear. For now, though, let's have some fun. That is what you
always wanted, isn't it...? To see me get wild...!"

"Piper," Leo bawled. "The Dark Side... you've touched it again... it's
taking control of you... making you think things... do things... you have to
fight it."

"Fight this, faggot!" Piper hissed, suddenly driving the candle, flame-end
first into the White Lighter's blasted asshole.

"AAHHHHHHHHHHH!" Leo's howl shook the rafters of the Manor.

"Piper, NO!" Phoebe's voice suddenly cut through the blinding agony of Leo's
personal Hell. After a short struggle, Phoebe managed to yank the candle
from Leo's ass and wrest it from her older sister's firm grasp.

"CUNT!" Piper lashed out her little sister, claws flailing at the air.

Despite her weakened condition, Phoebe's martial arts mastery still made more
than a match for her smaller sister. She adroitly sidestepped Piper's lunge,
and sent her tumbling to the floor.

Dazed, Piper rubbed her head and looked up at her sister and then Leo.
"Wh..what came over me?" she asked meekly.

"The Dark Side," Leo hissed. "I tried to warn you. It's all around you.
You can't let your... lust out. You'll be consumed."

"Oh look at poor Leo," Phoebe pouted. "Look what you did to him, Piper."
She scolded as she moved over to Leo, her eyes gleaming. "Let Phoebe help
you, baby. Let mommy make the pain all go away." She closed in on Leo and
sank to her knees. "Oh, it's soooo cute," she cooed over Leo's stub, which
was still shamefully swollen after his extreme abuse.

In a second, Phoebe's wet, luscious lips were sliding down the four short
inches of Leo's erect cock. It felt so good that Leo could do nothing but
stand there, knees buckling as Phoebe bobbed her mouth up and down his puny
pud. "Oh," he sighed. "Yes... don't stop, Phoebe, don't stop..."

"Phoebe, NO!" Now it was Piper's turn. Although she could feel the Dark
Side coaxing her back into clutches, she resisted its tug and grabbed hold
of Phoebe's head. With a jerk, she yanked Phoebe back by her hair. Leo's
slimy stump slid out of Phoebe's mouth and slapped across her face.

"LET ME HAVE HIS COCK!" Phoebe snapped as she desperately tried to reclaim
Leo's tiny truncheon. This time, however, Piper had leverage on her side,
and despite Phoebe's strongest efforts the smaller sister managed to pull
Phoebe off Leo.

Barely able to stand, Leo summoned enough strength to stagger away from the
sisters. He had to get away from them... FAST... NOW. Their fierce struggle
had sparked their animal natures again, leaving them both susceptible to the
Evil Forces vying for their souls. When they turned to Leo now, their eyes
were twinkling with infernal passion.

"Fight it," he gasped. "You have to fight it. If you don't, the Abyss will
claim your souls... for ALL ETERNITY."

Both sisters started when they heard those words. Phoebe tensed and grabbed
Piper. "Fight it, Piper. You have to fight it."

"I... know..." Piper stammered before she crumbled into her sister's arms.
"Oh, Phoebe... I'm so scared..."

"We're all scared," Phoebe whispered as she hushed Piper's sobs into her
soft bosom. "It's going to be all right... all right." she repeated. "Pure
thoughts... remember...? Just like Leo said... pure thoughts..."

"It's so hard..." Piper wept.

"I know... " Phoebe soothed her sister's burning scalp with a tender,
sisterly kiss. "I know..."

"I've got to get after Prue, make sure she doesn't do anything too bad on her
way to Destiny," Leo spoke after he caught his breath. "You, too, need to
find out where Jenny is..."

"I had another vision," Phoebe cut in. "That's what I was coming up here to
tell you. I know where Jenny is." She grabbed Piper and pulled her up.
"You have to get to her, Piper. You have to stay strong. We have to save
Jenny. It's... horrible."

"We'll save her, Phoebes," Piper managed a weak smile. "We always save the

"You two should get to work," Leo interrupted. "I can follow Prue's movement
from the Spirit Plane. Once she's inside Destiny, I'll look for that woman."

"Amy..." Phoebe reminded Leo. "Her name is Amy Wagner."

Leo nodded and then vanished in a swirl of white light.

* * *

* Now that was certainly... different, * Prue Halliwell thought to herself
as she headed out the front door and walked down the driveway to where her
car was parked. As she slid into the front seat, she found herself digging
through her purse. * What am I doing? * she asked herself, observing her
fingers and hands go about their motion like she was watching a movie. * I
need to get Destiny Enterprises. Why don't I just start the car and drive? *

But she was digging in her purse instead, looking for something. * What? *
She stopped and drew out the business card Phoebe had given her, the one with
the strange handwriting on back. Prue watched herself read the card, then
caught a glimpse of herself smiling in the rearview mirror.

Finally, she started the car, put it into gear and pulled out of the Manor's
driveway. With one hand, she clipped the card up to her sun visor and read
it again. "Campton Place Bar, 7:30PM. Aleister..." Obviously, she was
going to the Campton Place bar. Why, she had no idea.

* Let the spell guide you, * she told herself, recalling Leo's words. She
wondered if the White Lighter regretted giving those instructions given what
had just occurred. * I can't believe they... DID that! * Prue didn't know
whether to be appalled or amused. * Piper was like... oh, my GOD... She's
a freak. Piper is a freaky little nympho. Phoebe I could see. But Piper?

Prue watched herself accelerate the car faster than she ever would have
dreamed. All around her, the headlights and taillights streamed through the
arteries of San Francisco's evening traffic like red and white blood cells.
She punched the accelerator again and looked up at the card again.

Campton Place Bar, 7:30PM. Aleister

* * *

* What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck was I DOING? * Inspector
Darryl Morris stared into the bottom of his glass, a trace of Chivas Regal
still pooled around the melting ice cubes. A second later, he tipped the
glass back into his mouth, then placed it back on the bar with a resounding

The bartender looked down from the other end of the bar where he was chatting
with several very wealthy-looking, very WHITE businessmen. Through the fog
of expensive Scotch clouding his brain, Morris thought they all looked
exactly like Michael Douglas's character in Wall Street -- $100 silk ties
twisted into crisp Windsor knots, tailor-made suits with creases so sharp
they could cut diamonds. Interrupted, the bartender flashed Morris an
annoyed look while one of the men muttered something under his breath.

"Yo, homeboy...!" Morris pointed to his empty glass, his voice and
mannerisms affecting an exaggerated street tone. * May as well play to the
stereotype, * he laughed to himself. * That's what they're all going to
think anyway... all of them... * His mind flashed back to the stark images
of the blonde beauty he had just raped and probably killed not even six hours
ago. As he recalled the look on her face, his stomach heaved and his cock
got hard again.

* FUCK! What the FUCK is wrong with me? I just raped a girl, maybe even
killed her. I'm a cop... a married man... I'm supposed to be protecting
people. What the FUCK is wrong with me? * He stared down at his
still-empty glass and noticed a conspicuous lack of movement on the part of
the bartender. "Yo, my man," he rolled out his best Raider Town posture.
"You hard a' hearing or something?" he snapped, his booming baritone echoing
like a thunderclap across the quiet ambiance.

The bartender shared another round of whispers with the power-suit convention
at the other end of the bar, then slowly strolled over. "Don't you think
maybe you've had enough, sir?" he asked, a cold smile on his face.

Grinning like an ape, Darryl pointed to the empty glass then nodded towards
the gold detective shield propped up on the bar before him. He'd set his
badge down there almost six hours ago when he'd first pulled up a chair at
the Campton Place Bar and detected a certain reticence on the bartender's
part to serve "his kind." Grudgingly, the bartender had taken Darryl's
order and started a tab on his Visa Card. But with each passing round, the
situation grew tenser, especially when Darryl flashed Susan Richley's
photograph and started asking questions.

Now Darryl had been isolated to one corner of the bar while every other
patron... meaning every other WHITE patron... gathered in a ku klux klatch at
the opposite end. He felt their suspicious eyes boring into his café au lait
complexion, the men sizing him up and silently flexing their muscles, the
women avoiding his eyes directly but following his every movement in their
peripheral vision.

One set of eyes in particular had caught his attention. They belonged to a
stunning young redhead. She seemed to be studying him even more than the
rest, and every once in awhile he caught a glint in her emerald eyes that
seemed feral, almost carnivorous. She was obviously checking him out, her
gaze tracing his every movement. Her motive, however, still remained a
mystery. She, like the rest of the Campton Place patrons, seemed content
just to sit across the room from him and watch.

Nothing he did seemed to shake their attention. If he tried staring them
down, they stared back. If he tried ignoring them, he could feel their eyes
peering across the quiet expanse of the lounge. Darryl Morris felt like he
was an attraction in a zoo, a panther on display in a cage. The crowd of
eyes fixated on him, hovering just beyond the imaginary fence drawn between
them. They were poised, waiting for him to pounce, to strike, to do

* If they only knew, * he grinned to himself, watching the bartender pour his
Scotch over ice then set the glass back down next to his shield. * I just
raped me a white cunt, you bunch'a pink-assed crackers, * he laughed to
himself. * I raped yo' fucking daughter til she was beggin' fo' my big black
bone. Then I capped that blonde-haired, blue-eyed bitch. Done set her pink
ass out on the curb like a bag a' white trash, aw'right...? *

He started chuckling to himself, and he could feel the daggers shooting his
way from every white eye in the joint. Why he was still sitting there
drinking he had no idea. He'd put the photo and the questions away hours
ago, realizing his investigation into Karen Dunham's and Susan Richley's
disappearance was officially over. HELL, his little performance this
afternoon, his whole fucking career was over.

You couldn't do what Inspector Darryl Morris had done to that stuck-up white
cunt, Nicole, and get away with it - * Not unless your name is OJ fucking
Simpson. * Darryl chuckled at his witticism. * The Juice... Now THAT is one
righteous brother, * Darryl admitted to himself.

Being a cop, Darryl Morris had been forced to act outraged when OJ walked out
of that courtroom a free man. On the inside, though, deep down in the dark
corners of his soul, he had envied the brother. He'd always wondered what it
would feel like to TAKE one of those blonde-haired, blue-eyed, trust-fund
cunts. Now he knew.

Sure, Inspector Darryl Morris was horrified at what the future held in store
for him, but he had to admit -- Raping that white cunt had been the single
greatest experience in his life. Never had he felt so powerful, so
masculine, so ALIVE. He had finally learned the Truth, the BLACK TRUTH, and
it was both exhilarating and liberating.

* If they're gonna treat you like a nigger, you may as well act like one, *
he told himself as he took a hearty gulp from his glass. The Scotch tasted
good, numbing him all over - Novocain for the soul. * I should have realized
this shit a long time ago, * he castigated himself. * Instead of beating the
street for chump change, I could have been out there with my homeboys,
swimming in green and pink. Now look at me, stuck with some fat-assed,
Oprah-watching, self-proclaimed "Diva" for a wife, a fifteen-year mortgage,
and a dead-end career that's about to blow up in my face. What the fuck were
you thinking, Darryl? What the FUCK were you thinking? *

"...she was a goddess," the redhead's voice rose above the buzz in the bar
and caught Darryl's attention. She was locked in conversation with a trio of
pink faces in suits, each one of them trying to look the most interested in
what she was prattling. "A fertility goddess," the redhead added

* What the FUCK is she talking about? * Darryl eavesdropped further and tried
to figure out what the redhead was babbling about.

"So you were named after a fertility goddess," one of the men tried to pick
up the conversational ball. "You know I was reading this book once, "The
Power of Names." It was all about how certain names make people act a
certain way."

"She was also Queen of the Dead," the redhead quipped.

"That's weird," one of the other men tried his hand. "Why'd your parents
name you that anyway?"

"Who knows?" the redhead answered with a giggle. "I mean does it really

"Not when the girl's as pretty as you," the first man saw his opening.

*Jesus, you white boys are pathetic, * Darryl laughed to himself, but
suddenly stopped short. The redhead had resumed staring at him, and her
throng of lapdogs had certainly noticed. Frozen in her gaze, Darryl acted
on reflex and smiled.

She winked back. One of her attendants noticed, tapped a buddy on the
shoulder and whispered in his ear. That white-boy then told another
white-boy, and he told another white-boy, and so on... and so on. In less
than ten seconds, every white eye in the place was glaring at Darryl.

* Well, FUCK this shit.* The detective could feel his anger rising to
dangerous levels. Normally he would have picked this moment to withdraw.
But this evening was different. Instead of playing Uncle Tom and
step-fetching out the door, he let his anger flow and mingle with the
Chivas Regal warming his bloodstream.

Looking up from his drink, he now stared directly into the collective eye of
the white wolf pack. * Come on. One of you mother-fucking crackers make a
move, or just SAY something... Anything! Just GIVE me an excuse... *

Now that he had dispensed with all the 'discretion is the better part of
valor' bullshit, Darryl found he was actually getting off on the hatred and
fear in their white eyes. His 10-inch dick felt like the steely barrel of
a 347 Magnum stuffed into the crotch of his trousers.

He scanned the herd of white faces, looking for pink prey. He watched the
movement of their pupils, followed their nervous gazes like a panther
prowling a water hole. A flicker ran through their collective eye. Necks
and heads craned to one side. Their focus had suddenly shifted from where
he sat to the entranceway behind him.

Reacting on his policeman's reflex, Darryl spun around as well.

* PRUE?! *

The woman entering the bar locked lasers with Darryl and flashed a twisted,
wicked smile. * My God, it is Prue...? * Darryl was beyond dumbfounded.

He'd always known Prue Halliwell was a knockout. He'd often joked about her
luscious body and 'cum hither eyes' with Andy, back when his partner had been
alive and fucking the oldest Halliwell sister on a routine basis. But this
evening, she had superseded anything beyond even his most depraved fantasies.

Prue Halliwell looked downright ungodly, like a wild force of nature trapped
inside the succulent, alabaster skin of a once-human woman. * What has she
done to herself? * Darryl finally remembered to breathe as he picked his jaw
up from the floor.

Every eye in the Campton Place Bar was both undressing and crucifying the
brazen Jezebal who now strutted into their midst. The red leather coat,
sheer sports bra, black leather min-skirt, spangled fishnet stocking,
jet-black fuck-me pumps - every piece of clothing she wore shimmered with
an unearthly glow. Combined with her sleek black hair, head-to-toe tattooes
and plentiful piercings, Prue Halliwell's entire ensemble... her entire being
screamed TROUBLE.

Whereas every white-faced suit in the place, male and female, would have
maxxed out their American Express Platinum Cards to spend just one hour
sampling Prue's ample charms, in the public arena the power elite was forced
to put on airs of outrage and condemnation. Whispers started hissing and
steaming like ice-cold water thrown on a hot grill.

Funny, no one at the Campton Place minded bellying up to the bar with
corporate raiders, Colombian drug-dealers, chemical-weapons manufacturers or
corrupt politicians. But a woman dressed like Prue Halliwell...? Hitler
would have stood a better chance being served a vodka martini, shaken not

Like one of the Praetorian Guard, the bartender now stepped out from behind
the bar, crossed the floor and blocked Prue's path before she could reach the
inside perimeter of the room. "Ma'am?" he asked, as if that one word would
convince her turn around and march right out of Campton Place.

"Cock-sucker!" she snapped back.

Darryl Morris snorted in laughter. He had NEVER seen Prue act this way, not
even remotely. He was fascinated, to say the least.

"Yo, cream," Morris's voice cut through the silent tension like a straight
razor. "She's with me." The bartender scowled and turned to face Darryl,
almost ready to challenge the detective. "Official police business," Darryl's
face darkened. "Now, unless you want me to start rolling every ofay
motherfucker in here, I suggest you STEP OFF." He watched the bartender
flinch. "NOW!" The bartender swore under his breath and moved slowly back
to his place behind the bar. "Get her WHATEVER she wants," Darryl pointed
to his badge again, "FAST!" he added.

The bartender had no choice but to look up at Prue and await her order.

"Tequilla," she commanded. "And you can skip the lemon and salt." She
watched as the bartender poured her a shot and placed it on the bar before
her. She lifted the shot-glass and disposed with the liquor in the twinkling
of an eye. "Again," she hissed, licking the alcohol residue off her lips.
The bartender paused, Darryl nodded, and another shot was poured and drained.
"You can go now," Prue shooed the bartender away. "Go on, scat..."

The bartender went back down to the opposite end of the room, and the
whispers started all over again. Daryll basked in the white rage seething
all about him. As he heard words like "prostitute" and "shake down" filter
through the murmurs, he flashed the crowd his best Will Smith aw-shucks
smile. It was obvious that Campton Place crowd didn't like the thought of
a white whore and her black pimp daddy infesting their fern-decked watering

* One a' you pink-skinned motherfuckers just try it... * Darryl laughed to
himself as the white-boys bristled. * I'll pound a mudhole out all your
sorry white-asses. *

He turned to Prue. After polishing off her Tequillas, she'd slid into the
chair next to his. Her back was turned to the white mob grumbling over her
shoulders. When she leaned forward slightly, Darryl couldn't help but take
a whiff of her perfume.

The scent emanating from her body stormed his nostrils. Part musk, part
hashish, part pussy - he found his mind clouded, intoxicated, insensible.
His every sense - sight, smell, hearing, touch, taste -- swam in a sea of
a raw, charged sexuality. He was instantly aware of every nerve ending in
body freezing and catching flame. Calm and tempest raged through his being
simultaneously. "What... are you doing here?" he barely managed to choke,
his throat soaked with passion.

"Looking for this," she reached out and placed her hand confidently, wantonly
in his lap. Her fingernails drummed across the tight crotch of his trousers,
bouncing along the pent-up bulge beneath his zipper. Although her body was
completely blocking their actions from the probing white eyes that surrounded
them, Darryl Morris couldn't help but feel they were performing before the
entire bar. His heart raced with a combined rush of titillation and terror.

* What the FUCK has gotten into her? * Darryl couldn't move or speak. Every
cell in his body was now completely petrified. Utterly insensate, he could
offer no resistance as she grabbed his wrist with her free hand and pulled
his arm between her own legs.

"I need some BLACK, baby..." she whispered in his ear so no one else in the
room could hear. "Now..." she licked his light-brown cheek, then quickly
drew away from him as if she were suddenly terrified of his presence.
"I..I'll make you happy, daddy?" she stammered aloud, her voice now quivering
as it carried across the bar. "Please... I promise..." she whined, like she
was desperate, frightened. "I'll be good. Just don't hurt me." Her
movements still invisible to the crowd behind them, she forcibly jammed
Darryl's hand beneath her black leather mini-skirt.

For the moment, Darryl Morris was too blown away to pay any attention to what
she was saying. So he let Prue guide his hands between her legs with no
objection. * This is fucking unbelievable... fucking unbelievable... * he
kept repeating to himself. Here he was - Inspector Darryl Morris -- sitting
at what was arguably the Golden Gate City's most exclusive, upscale bar with
his hand shoved up Prue Halliwell's cunt... PRUE HALLIWELL, Little Miss
Untouchable herself.

Where Darryl expected to find panties or a patch of pubes at the least, there
was nothing. Not one single strand of fabric or hair stood in the way of his
black fingers as they sank into Prue's hot, wet, white womb.

"Yes, daddy..." she mewled like a frightened schoolgirl while she scooted up
in her chair and repositioned her bottom.

This new posture gave Darryl Morris's strong digits even better access to
Prue's sopping, shaved privates. Before he could even process what was
happening, his long middle finger went sliding up into the groove of her
slick, snug sphincter. * FUCK, I'm finger fucking Prue Halliwell's asshole.
Shit is she primed! * In a second, his index finger followed his middle
finger up Prue's tight yet inviting shit chute. Unable to control himself
any longer, he dug his thumb deep between her pussy lips. Suddenly he was
gripping her cunt and ass like a bowling ball.

"Please, daddy, not here..." she sobbed, fidgeting in her chair and
pretending she wanted to run away. "Not in front of all these people.
Please don't make me... please..." Large, wet crocodile tears poured down
her cheeks as she flashed him quick, malicious grin.

* What the FUCK is she doing? * Darryl suddenly snapped out of his
lust-crazed haze. * Is she trying to get me lynched? * Regaining his
senses, the detective tried to jerk his hand away from Prue's pulsating
privates. But he was too slow. In a split second, she'd closed her
muscular thighs around his wrist and clamped down HARD.

Of course, no one else in the bar could see this or anything else Prue was
doing. They could only hear her pitiful, plaintive squeals. To every pink
ear in the place, it appeared that Inspector Darryl Morris, the "nigger with
a badge," was abusing the authority of his public trust, smacking his pimp
hand down on one of his white bitches right in their Caucasian faces.

"Prue... please... stop..." he whispered. "This isn't funny. You have to

"Don't make me do that!" she bawled in reply. "Not here. I'm sorry. I'll
get more money next time. I SWEAR. Just don't make me." She broke down
weeping. Then, before Darryl's shocked eyes, she lowered her head and leaned
into his lap, her lips kissing the stretched linen of his trouser crotch.
"You p..promised," she blubbered, her fingers quickly and skillfully snapping
his buttons and running down his zipper. "I..I'll do it, just don't hurt my
daughter," she snaked her hand in the fly of boxer shorts and withdrew the
milk-chocolate slab of his stiff, thick dick. "You promised..." she pouted
before her lips encircled his bloated brown warhead. "You promised you
wouldn't hurt her, she's only eight-years-old. Please... I'll do it... I'll
be your good white bitch, daddy. I promise... I swear..." She continued
pleading between slobbering slurps, the loud smacking of her lips hanging in
the air.

* SHIT! * Darryl pushed Prue away with all his might, every muscle in his
body telling him to zip up his pants and run like hell. He overestimated the
power behind his shove, though, and he sent Prue spilling to the floor. She
flashed a quick, imperceptible smile, then began wailing at the top of her

"I'm sorry, daddy!" she howled. "I'll suck it better. Let me suck it,
please. PLEASE, don't hurt my daughter. I'll suck it good. Please let
me suck it. Please don't hurt my baby ..." she bent over and sobbed
hysterically. Only Darryl could see the big, wicked smile plastered
across her black, painted lips.

"Aren't any of you MEN going to do anything?" The ravishing young redhead
who'd been studying Darryl all evening was suddenly standing up in her seat.
"My God, that nigger is RAPING her."

* FUCK! * Darryl raged to himself. * This is ALL I fucking need. * Darryl
glared over at the redhead, his mind reeling with rage and terror.

Something about her had seemed suspicious from the moment he'd first laid
eyes on her. She certainly wasn't some Ann Taylor-made executive from one of
the surrounding Union Square offices. Dressed in a short, tight black dress,
matching black blazer and knee-high boots, she could have been a fashion
model or movie star. He had assumed, however, that she was just some rich,
white trust-fund cunt looking for a new daddy to spoil her.

Still, that didn't explain why she'd been sitting there for the last several
hours watching him, her intense eyes focused on his every movement, like she
was waiting for something to happen. Like very other guy in the place he'd
been eyeing her, too, trying to figure out what the hell her game was. Now
he knew. * This sick little bitch wants to see something go down here... a
fight... blood... something... *

Standing there now, in all her righteously indignant glory, she was
absolutely bewitching, her red-hair cascading over her shoulders like a mane
of fire. "Jesus," she taunted the crowd, her emerald eyes aflame like some
ancient Greek prophetess. "You call yourselves WHITE men?! No wonder all
your wives and daughters are out there sucking big black dicks." She glared
at the men in disgust, and several started to rise from their seats. "You
don't give a fucking shit, do you?" she continued jeering at them. "Let some
jungle-bunny plant a black baby inside your wife! So what if your daughter
breeds with them and you have a bunch of mongrel grandchildren! As long as
the Dow keeps going up, who gives a fuck that the niggers are polluting the
white race out of existence?"

"Prue?!" Darryl reached out his hand desperately, trying to help her up.
"Come on, tell these people this is all a joke, and let's get the hell out
of here."

"Someone help me, please..." Prue wailed. "H..he b..busted my husband for
discrimination b..because he wouldn't rent apartments to a bunch of drug
dealers and hookers..."

* What the FUCK is she talking about? * Darryl looked at the crowd of white
faces rising from their seats and closing ranks on him.

At the front of the throng were the men, all fifteen of them. The four or
five white women among them hung back slightly, their curious eyes peering
over the shoulders of the men. Darryl had seen such mobs before, people who
would never even think of committing crimes were capable of unspeakable acts
when caught up in the blind hysteria and faceless anonymity of a bloodthirsty

* This is getting WAY out of hand! * Darryl thought to himself as he
searched wildly for an escape route. "Listen, please..." he tried to calm
the group down, to inject some reason into scene. But he was greeted with
nothing but blind white rage. Suddenly Detective Darryl Morris was in fear
for his very life. "You have to listen to me..."

"H..he told me he'd have my husband RAPED in prison by niggers if I didn't
start turning tricks for him," Prue continued, raising her voice and drowning
out Darryl's pleas. 'He told me if I don't bring him $1,000 a night, that
he'll... TURN OUT my eight-year-old daughter... sell her to some niggers in
Oakland for a... bachelor party..."

"SHUT UP, Prue!" His hand came out of nowhere. He watched helplessly as it
collided HARD against the side of Prue' jaw, snapping her neck back and
sending her groveling to his feet. "Oh, my god, what have I..." He started
towards her, but the mob had closed around her fallen body. Immediately
sizing up the situation, he shrank back against the bar, desperately reaching
for his badge as the crowd closed in. "I'm a cop," he shouted frantically,
waving the badge impotently in their faces. "I'm a fucking cop..."

"No," one of the white men spit in Darryl's eye, "you're a fucking NIGGER."

* Okay, that's it! * Darryl had no choice but to go for his gun, but before
could even reach the handle his arms were pinned behind his back. A second
later, his shoulder holster was torn form his torso. Suddenly, he was
acutely aware that he was not only defenseless against the mob, but that his
hard brown dick was also fully exposed. * Shit! * he cursed. Unable to
cover his black manhood, it jutted forth from his belly like a slab of raw
meat dangling before a pack of hungry wolves.

"You're pretty proud of that ape-dick, aren't you, boy?" a second man
snarled. Darryl tried to throw them off and run, but there were too many of
them, and they were too strong. "You answer me, when I speak to you, boy!"
the second man kept at him, pulling Darryl's head back by his kinky hair and
eyeballing him.

A second later, a hard fist ripped into Darryl's stomach. Three more blows
landed, one catching the detective so hard in the kidneys that he felt
himself blacking out.

"You're gonna stay awake for this, boy," another voice -- the bartender's -
jeered. Moments later, a pitcher of ice-cold water dumped down on Darryl's
head. "See?" the bartender howled. "We do so SERVE niggers here."

The white mob burst into a fit of laughter. Another pitcher of ice water was
thrown in Darryl's face, catching him off guard. Fighting for air, he found
himself choking on the frigid liquid. "You... don't... understand..." Darryl
sputtered. "Please... please..."

"Not so tough now, are you, nigger," a third man delivered a kick to Darryl's
balls, doubling the strong black detective over in a heaving fit. "Are you?"
The kicks continued for another ten seconds or so before Darryl's head was
yanked up again.

"You didn't answer my question, boy." The second man was now once more
eyeball to eyeball with Darryl. "You're proud of that shit-brown ape-dick of
yours, aren't you?"

Darryl gritted his teeth, refusing to answer and incite the mob to any
further violence. Maybe if he just shut up and played along, kept waiting
and watching for an opening to escape.

"Here you go, Dominic." The bartender reached over and handed the second man
a serrated paring knife. "Maybe that'll loosen the nigger's tongue."

The man named Dominic smiled, and showed Darryl the blade before he lowered
it out of the detective's sight. Darryl could feel the cold blade of the
knife slice through the linen of his shirt then skim across the tender skin
of his nut bag. "You still haven't answered me, boy," Dominic snickered,
tickling the serrated blade across Darryl's balls. "Now speak!"

"You... you're making a b..big mistake," Darryl stuttered, trying to restore
some semblance of sanity to the situation.

"No, I think YOU'RE the one who made the mistake, nigger..." the bartender
baited. "... the second you sat your filthy black ass down in OUR bar."

The mob burst out into applause, and the bartender exchanged high fives with
the men. Meanwhile, the women in back were now standing on chairs and
peering down at the action like they were watching a cock fight. Their eyes
were as wide as saucers as they drank in the scene - the sharp knife, the
surge of white testosterone, the rock-hard defiance of Darryl's 10-inch brown

"You got one more chance to answer my question, boy," Dominic threatened.
"Now tell us all. You're proud of that big monkey cock of yours, aren't
you...?" He poised the knife against Darryl's scrotum and held his breath.

"Wh..what do you want me to say?" Darryl begged. "What do you want hear?"
He was crying now, like a big black baby. "I'll say whatever you want me to
say, just don't... please don't..."

"We want to hear the truth, boy," one of the white women finally spoke,
emboldened by the mob. "Answer the man's question..."

"Yes," Darryl sobbed, willing to say anything to avoid the slice of Dominic's

"Yes, what?" a fifth man joined in. He struck Darryl across the face with
his open hand. "Tell us all about you and your filthy ape-dick, nigger.
Come on, where's your black pride?" The crowd joined him.

"I... I don't know what you want me to say," Darryl bawled. "Just tell me
what to say, and I'll say it... just tell me."

"Why don't you guess, you fucking mulie?" a sixth man taunted him from the
safety of the throng. "Guess right, and you get to keep it. Isn't that
right, Dom?"

"That sounds fair," Dominic sneered.

"Please..." Darryl whimpered. "I... I want to keep dick." He listened
to the mob start hooting. "Please, don't cut it off. Please, dear god, just
let me go..."

"You think you got a big dick, don't you?" Dominic badgered him.

"Y..yes," Darryl stammered, still not sure what the men wanted to hear him
say. For the moment, he decided to play along with them, to agree with them.
"It's... pretty big."

"Bigger than any white-boy's dick, huh...?" Dominic pressed.

"," Darryl pleaded. "I know all that stuff is ... it's all just a big

"You don't believe that, though, do you?" Dominic baited him. "Come on,
nigger, tell us the truth. You think your ape-dick is bigger than any white
man's, don't you...? Don't you?" He pressed the blade back into Darryl's
nut sack.

"No... I swear... no..." Darryl mewled.

"That's not what you told me!" Prue suddenly rejoined the miniature race riot
she'd fomented. "He's always telling me how no white man can ever compare to
his big black baby maker. That's what he calls it, his maker. He
likes to fuck white woman and make them pregnant. He says all white women
want black dick because no white man's cock can ever compare to a black

"Is that right?" Dominic sneered. "Now we're finally getting some straight
answers around here..."

"She's lying!" Darryl shrieked.

"Who do you think we're going to believe, nigger?" the bartender laughed.
"You or her?"

"He has this... photo album with nude pictures of all these white girls he's
fucked," Prue went on. "Some of the girls are just... babies... BABIES," she
repeated while the crowd grew even more bloodthirsty. "He makes videos, too.
He forces us to fuck him and his black friends. All they do is make fun of
white men... call them little pink worms. You should hear them."

"Lynch him!" the redhead suddenly spoke for the first time in minutes. "Hack
his dick off and lynch him."

"Yeah, do it!" Prue joined in. "If you don't, he's just going to go back out
there and rape another white girl."

"There's some rope in the maintenance closet," the bartender announced. In
a second, he and several of the men were pushing back through the crowd.
Every white mouth in the room was jabbering now. Darryl couldn't even
process what they were all saying as he was pushed, poked, prodded and
eventually herded to the center of the room.

"My father saw a lynching when he was a little boy in Mississipi," a woman's
voice cut above the cacophony. "He told me it was the most beautiful thing
he ever saw."

"I hear their dicks get real big when their hanging," another woman jumped

"That's when you slice it off," a third woman added. "When it's all big and

"Then you stuff it down the fucking nigger's throat," the redhead spurred
them on. "Make him choke on it for a change."

The women all broke into peels of laughter. As Darryl was forced to stand on
a chair, he caught Prue's eyes. She was standing back from the mob, leaning
against the bar. Her black leather mini-skirt was raised, and she was
furiously stroking her shaved, sopping-wet snatch. When she caught Darryl's
eyes, she's grinned maliciously and licked one of her dew-drenched fingers.

"You FUCKING BITCH!" Morris screamed at her, but his voice was lost beneath
the catcalls of the mob. "You DID kill Andy, didn't you...? You sick,
fucking perverted cunt!"

It all made sense to Darryl now - the rash of inexplicable crimes and
gruesome, cult-like killings that seemed to surround Prue Halliwell. She
wasn't the woman she seemed. The nice-girl/high-school sweetheart Andy had
loved didn't exist. THAT Prue Halliwell was all an act, a LIE.

Prue Halliwell wasn't one of the "good guys." Shortly before his partner
died, Andy had hinted that Prue was "different." Darryl had even heard Andy
refer to Prue under his breath as a "witch."

* That's got to be it. * Suddenly the fog over Darryl's mind cleared.
* Prue Halliwell is some kind of psychotic, sociopathic satanic witch. * The
pieces were all starting to fit.

All the grisly murders in the last year and a half, they must have been
Prue's doing! She wasn't fighting the Evil; she WAS the Evil. Andy must
have finally learned the truth, which was why she killed him, just like she
was now going to kill Darryl Morris. * But why? What did I do? * Darryl
searched his mind desperately for an answer.

* Destiny! * The solution came to him in a flash of inspiration. * She was
lying to me this morning. She did know what that symbol meant . She must be
involved somehow. The missing women must be cult sacrifices or something. I
was getting too close, and she had to stop me from uncovering it all. She
knew I would come here. I told her this was the last place Susan Richley was
seen. Campton Place must be involved in the operation, too, just like

Darryl stopped, another revelation coming over him. * That blonde bitch
on the elevator today! I was set up, maybe even drugged somehow. They
brainwashed me into attacking her. It was all part of some plan to get me
off the investigation. But I came here, kept asking questions. * Now he
understood. * That's why Prue came here, to finish me off herself. Phoebe
was in the parking lot. She must have followed me here and told Prue.
They're all in this together -- the Halliwell sisters, Destiny, and fucking
Campton Place. It ALL makes sense now, every last FUCKING piece of it. I'm
not a rapist or a killer. I'm a pawn... a FUCKING PAWN for Prue Halliwell
and her sick satanic cult. *

"You think you've won, CUNT!" Darryl shouted at Prue. "But I'll stop you,
and so help me God I'll see you fry!"

"Those are pretty big words coming from a nigger with a noose around his
neck!" The bartender had reemerged brandishing a thick rope with a slipknot
dangling from the end. While Darryl struggled, a dozen strong white hands
forced his head down while the bartender slid the noose over his forehead.

"Strip him naked," one of the women chanted, tugging at Darryl's trousers.

"Yeah," another chimed in, tearing at what remained of his shirt. "The only
thing this big black buck should be wearing is a necktie."

The mob responded with a collective chortle as the woman tore at Darryl's
clothes with glee, ripping every last stitch of clothing off his hulking
brown body. As they stripped him, their small white hands lingered over
every bulge and muscle. Despite the horror of his impending death, Darryl
couldn't control the iron-hard erection protruding from below his waist.

SMACK! A small firm hand struck Darryl's ass, then gave his tight buttocks
a slight squeeze. "BAD NIGGER!" the woman spanking him scolded, pointing at
Darryl's immense and very erect dick before she issued another firm blow.

"Bad Nigger!" the other women joined in now.

"EWWWW!" another women shrieked. "The filthy nigger's exposing himself to

"RAPE!" a third woman joined in. In another second, all the white women
began following suit, their voices raised in a banshee-like chorus of: "RAPE!
Nigger Rape!"

"God damn, nigger!" Dominic hissed as the noose was finally fitted around
Darryl's neck. While Darryl flopped about in their furious white arms like
fish out of water, the mob lifted him up. Someone took his feet and tried
to force him to stand on a chair. "This will teach you to respect our
women," Dominic grunted as he helped to work Darryl into the proper lynching

"Yeah, nigger, stay with your own kind!" one of the men piped up.

"This is what happens to niggers who mess with white woman," another man

"Who's the worm now, nigger? Who's laughing now?"

Exhausted and utterly broken, Darryl could no longer fight the mob. * Maybe
it's better this way, * he allowed himself to think. * Brainwashing or no
brainwashing, I did rape that girl... maybe even killed her... * His mind
flashed back to Nicole's face, her blank white eyes, the blood pooled in the
corner of her mouth. * I'm exactly what they say I am... a filthy animal
nigger... *

For the last seconds of his life, Darryl Morris was overwhelmed with the
images and sensations from earlier that day - the look of Nicole's succulent
pink body as he battered and broke it, the feel of his cock as it tore into
whiteness with the seeting DARK rage of a millennia's oppression. He felt
the chair kick out from beneath his feet and his feet begin dangling, dancing
in mid-air. The noose gripped his neck like a vise and the rope cut into his
throat while swung back and forth like a pendulum.

"Look at that nigger dance," one of the white men joked. "They all got
natural rhythm, you know...?"

The white mob howled with laughter, various voices, male and female,
squealing with delight.

"You were right, Connie" one of the woman chimed above the din of celebrating
voices. "His dick is getting bigger. Look at that thing!"

"Cut his nuts off!" another woman screamed. "Geld that big black stallion."

* Oh GOD... PLEASE! * Darryl wailed, but no words could come out. The women
were right? He was strangling to death, and his cock was bigger, harder
and BLACKER than he had ever seen it. It bobbed back and forth below his
stomach, almost as if it was taunting the white mob, defying them to
extinguish its dark potent power.

"What do you think of your big black dick now, nigger?" Dominic taunted,
waving the serrated knife before Darryl's bugged-out eyes before he lowered
the blade to the detective's bulging balls.

"Let me hold it while you cut him," one of the white women beseeched, pushing
her way up to the head of the throng. The men stepped aside and let her
grasp the shaft in her tiny, pink hand. "It's as hard as a rock," she
giggled. "You just have to feel this, Trish!" She offered Darryl's engorged
bone to one of her upper-crust, alabaster-skinned friends. The high society
bitch eagerly grabbed Morris's dick, gasped and began stroking it.

"His orgasm should be quite intense if you continue stimulating him such a
fashion," a nerdy white man observed. "This is the phenomenon commonly
referred to as autoerotic asphyxiation."

"What are you, a doctor?" another man laughed.

"Yes, I am," the nerdy man fired back.

"I want to jack him off while he swings," the woman told the crowd. "Then,
as soon as he cums, you cut those fat black balls," she instructed Dominic.

"How do you like white women now, nigger?" one of the men baited Darryl.

"Come on, you big black buck," the white woman jeered as she pumped his
raging dick. "Cum for your white mistress. CUM, God damn, you, CUM!"

Darryl tried to prolong his ejaculation as long as possible. He knew that
when he climaxed he would die. But the oxygen deprivation had sapped his
last bit of self-control, and a second later he felt his balls explode.

Every neuron in Inspector Darryl Morris's brain fired. Every synapse and
nerve ending in his body short-circuited. Through the haze of agony clouding
his brain, he could hear the white mob raise a cheer.

"Look at that nigger go!" someone yelled. "Dance nigger! Dance!"

"Go, nigger... go nigger..." the white women began to chant, mocking the
dance-club call popularized on countless hip-hop records.

Finally surrendering to the inevitable, Darryl stopped his last feeble
struggles and let the rope take over. While he swung, he was aware that his
whole body was convulsing and contorting in a series of violent, herky-jerky
spasms. Suddenly he tasted blood and realized he'd bitten clean through his
tongue. A second later, he felt the sharp, serrated blade dig into his
bloated scrotum. There was a tearing sensation and then a sharp tug before
a cheer erupted from the white mob and Dominic presented them with their
hard-fought trophy.

The last thing Darryl Morris saw before the world went pitch black was the
bloody pulp of his testicles dangling from the end of Dominic's knife. He
was aware of hands prying apart his jaws and then the taste of his own raw
genital flesh...

* * *

"Jesus, mack, you weren't fucking kidding," the uniformed officer exclaimed
as they entered the Campton Place Bar. "They're fucking lynching that poor

Four more uniformed officers entered the bar behind the first policeman and
Leo Wyatt. "Shit, that's Inspector Morris!" another man yelled. "Fuck! Get
him the fuck down from there."

The contingent of cops pushed their way through the mob. As soon as the
white patrons saw the law officers, the cheering suddenly stopped. In less
than a minute, the festival atmosphere turned into pell-mell dash for the
doors. Amid the fleeing lynch mob, Leo spotted Rue running alongside a
ravishing redhead. Leo's demon-sensitivity kicked in immediately. * The
redhead. Prue's made contact! *

Leo realized now why Rue had come to Campton Place. The missing woman,
Phoebe's card -- Rue must have instinctively known this was where she'd find
demons from Destiny. Instead of trying to breach their defenses head-on, Rue
was going to get in through the backdoor. There was no way, given Rue's
performance over the last half-hour, that any demon would EVER suspect her
of being a GOOD WITCH.

Leo had observed most of what had transpired from the Spirit Realm. Every
instinct in his body had told him to step in and break up the lynch-mob
before it went too far. But that would have rent Prue's cloak. So instead
the White Lighter had chosen to wait until the last possible moment before
materializing, flagging down some beat cops and playing cavalry.

Only this time, the cavalry had been too late. Detective Darryl Morris was
swinging peacefully now. The amputated genitals stuffed into his twisted
death mask cut a stark contrast to the limp calm that hung throughout his
once-vital brown body. As the officers cut Inspector Morris down, Leo
stepped up.

"I'm a doctor," Leo told them. "I can help him... save him... but you have
to give me space." He looked around. If he was going heal Darryl, he would
need to do so in the next few minutes with total privacy. "Clear this room,"
he barked. "All of you. Seal the exits and let NO ONE in here until the
ambulance arrives. NOW!"

The police officers looked at one another.

"Do you want this man to die?" Leo barked. "He's a cop, for God's sake."

"Do as he says," the officer who had entered the bar alongside Leo spoke up.
"DO IT!"

Leo nodded his silent thanks to the man as the cops scrambled out of the bar.
In another few seconds, Leo and Darryl were alone. * There's got to be a
spark... * Leo told himself as his hands probed the air above Darryl Morris's
corpse. * There's got to be. * Suddenly a faint whisper of light hummed
along Leo's fingertips. * Life force... that's it, man. Stay here. Stay
with me, damn it. Stay with me! * As Leo worked his hands through Darryl
Morris's dissipating energy field, the sensations grew stronger... warmer.
* YES! * Leo almost screamed.

Darryl's body suddenly went tense then jerked up in a coughing, gasping fit.
As he spit out the genitalia stuffed between his lips, air flooded back into
his lungs and blood pumped through his heart.

Leo reached over to where the black man's testicles now lay in a bloody
puddle on the floor. Not even hesitating, he scooped them up and pressed
them back into the gaping wound below Darryl's waist. Using all his powers,
he reattached every sinew, every nerve ending, every tissue. Not even a
minute later, he was holding Darryl Morris's thick, 10-inch black dick in
his trembling hands.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" the detective coughed as he
regained consciousness.

"Saving your life," Leo smiled. An instant later, the doors to the hotel bar
slammed open, and a team of paramedics stormed inside.

"What... took you guys so long?" Darryl gasped as the officers crowded around
him and the paramedics began to work on him.

"You're alive," one of the cops shouted. "Jesus, you're fucking alive..."

"And your... dick...?" another officer started. "It was..."

"We need to get him to the hospital stat," Leo barked at the paramedics, his
previous life as an Army Medic allowing him to smoothly assume command of the
emergency situation. "I'll ride with him," he ordered as Darryl was loaded
onto a stretcher and hustled out to a waiting ambulance.

"You... you're Piper Halliwell's friend, aren't you...? Darryl managed to
gasp through the pain. "I've seen you at her club..."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Leo shook his head. "Now just
relax and take it easy. You're going to be all right..."

* * *

"That was FUCKING AWESOME!" Persephone shouted at the top of her lungs as the
car sped away. She was riding in the passenger. The woman she'd just met
was driving. "FUCKING AWESOME!"

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it," the woman grinned.

"You FUCKING ROCK!" Persephone squealed. "Can you believe it?! They lynched
that fucking nigger. Those idiots FUCKING LYNCHED HIM! Did you see those
fucking ladies jacking off his big black dick while he was swinging? That

"Glad you liked it."

"Who the fuck are you?" Persephone asked.

"Name's Rue," the woman smiled.

"You, my sister, ROCK! I mean I thought I was good, but that... that was
FUCKING AWESOME! You played those fools like a fucking puppet show. I still
can't believe it."

"You weren't so bad yourself," Rue commented. "That little speech you gave
was sheer brilliance."

"But you...! Your performance ROCKED the fucking world. What was that
nigger to you anyway?" she asked.

"He busted me last year when I wouldn't go snitching for him. Spent nine
months in lockup scrubbing toilets and eating some fat nigger dyke's FOUL
cunt. I told him I'd get even someday. I guess I did, huh?"

"Even? Darling, that black bastard PAID... in spades!"

Both women laughed uproariously at Persephone's witticism. "So what's your
name, sweets?" Rue asked.


"Cool name," Rue replied. "I have no idea what the fuck it means, but it
sure sounds cool. Persephone..." she repeated. "Very cool." She paused.
"You hate niggers, too, huh?"

"I hate the whole human race," Persephone cracked. She reached into her purse
and drew out a joint.

"Me, too," Rue grinned, extending a lighter.

Persephone sucked on the doobie, coughed, and handed it to Rue, who took it
down to a roach with one long, strong draw. When she was finished, she
poised the butt between her middle finger and thumb and flicked it out her
window. Then she turned back to Persephone and smiled.

"I can only stand to be around people when I'm fucking them," Rue revealed.
"They're all right, then, until I get off. When I'm finished, I just throw
them away." She ran her index finger across her throat, twisted her neck,
and stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth. Persephone laughed. "It
eliminates all the complications," Rue explained.

"You're fucking kidding me, right...?!" Persephone squealed in delight.

"Do I look like I fucking kid around?"

"You mean to say that after you fuck a guy, you kill him?"

"Guy... girl... it doesn't matter," Rue smirked. "I mean it's all good,

"Like how many people have you killed?"

"Including my mommy and daddy?"

"You are one SERIOUSLY FUCKED-UP bitch," Persephone howled. "And I love
EVERY FUCKING MINUTE of it." She paused. "You still in the mood to play?"
she suddenly asked.

"Depends what the game is?"

"I know this place..." Persephone paused. "It's where I work. It's one of
those agencies, you know, where lonely ladies come in hoping to find the man
of their dreams..."

"Sounds pathetic."

"Oh, it is, but it's just a front."

"A front?" Rue asked.

"Yeah, a cover. There's lots of nasty shit that goes on there. I know
because I do most of it. We've got everything there, anything your perverted
heart desires - whips, chains, animals... and oodles and oodles of slaves."

"A bondage club?" Rue shook her head. "Sounds pretty lame. Sorry..."

"Oh, it's not lame," Persephone shot back, her voice taking on a slightly
defensive tone. "It's definitely NOT lame."

"I don't know," Rue wasn't convinced. "I like to snatch my prey. Half the
fun is the hunt."

"Oh, we can hunt. We can definitely HUNT. The cows who come in think we're
there to help them meet a man. Actually, we're there to take their souls."
Persephone paused a moment. "Tell me, Rue, what are you REALLY into? I mean
what really gets you off? No matter what it is, no matter how sick, twisted
and depraved, I can get it for you. I swear!"

"And what the fuck's in it for you?" Rue asked.

"Your soul," Persephone answered her seriously.

"What the fuck are you talking about?

"Anything you want can be yours for a price, Rue, and that price is your
soul. I'm a demon. In fact, I'm the Queen of Hell... I mean I was until I
got free and came here."

"Get the fuck out of here."

"I'm not kidding, Rue." Persephone opened her green eyes wide, and they
suddenly blazed with emerald fire. A moment later, a blast of green flame
shot out of her pupils, zipped past Rue, streaked out the open car window
and blasted through plate-glass store front.

"Now THAT was fucking awesome," Rue laughed. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"I'm a demon, Rue, and I work with demons. We make women's deepest darkest
fantasies come true. In exchange, they pay us with their souls."

"You mean it's like selling your soul to the devil?"

"It IS selling your soul to the Devil. In your case, he's already got yours.
So it's like you'd be getting everything for free."

"So why even bother with me?"

"I like your style. I think we can have oodles and oodles of fun together.
So you haven't told me. What is it you really REALLY want to do? Maybe it's
something you've always dreamed about, but never had the chance to do."

Rue grinned. "There is something..."


"First I want to check this place of yours out, see if you're on the up and
up. Then, if I think you can deliver, I'll tell you. Otherwise, I'd just be
wasting my energy, getting my hopes all high for nothing."

"Oh, we can deliver, Rue. We can DEFINITELY deliver."

"We'll just see about that," Rue grinned.

"You wanna kill a kid, Rue? Huh?" Persephone questioned her. "Rape and
snuff a little baby, maybe eat it alive while it's mommy watches...?"

"Been there, done that."

"What then? Whaaat?" Persephone whined.

"I told you. You'll see."

"Tell me, Rue! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"I'll tell you this much," Rue grinned. "I'll bet it's something not even
one of you demons has even dreamed of before."

"Cooomme on, Rue, tell me..."

"NO!" Rue barked. "Not yet. Now tell me how to get to this place of yours.
If everything checks out, I'll fill you in. And I guarantee you, demon or


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