The Bureau of Extra Normal Affairs - Sex Stories

The Bureau of Extra Normal Affairs

To the massive majority of people, the address on the corner of a less than salubrious warehouse district even though in the greatest city in the world was entirely unknown; just an anonymous little polygon to fill a void in the map. To some – mostly river folk or dock workers - it was the oddly located little shop that obviously didn't see any passing trade. To a small amount of people; ageing sportsmen and dedicated bibliophiles who had actually been inside, the sign (Of pealing gilt and a colour that would one day be known as “British Racing Green”.) above the door pronounced it to be “Cavendish Sporting Books”. To a tiny amount of people, who on entering the establishment knew to ask; “Perchance do you have anything on fencing?” and who were led through the stacks which smelt of athleticism gone to seed and fishing tackle not sufficiently dried before being packed away forever. It was a front for department X (A nominal though that no-one was entirely sure represented the letter itself or a Roman numeral.) of; Her most Britannic Majesty’s Secret Service. To almost no-one though it was “the Bureau” or to give it it’s full name; “The Bureau of Extra-normal Affairs.” If you were born the seventh son of a seventh son, (Or indeed a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter.) with different coloured eyes or more than the required number of digits or became a remaining twin. Someone, somewhere in a nondescript office would know about it and a telegram would be sent here to say so. ...

... Then somebody else somewhere else would be detailed to monitor you until they were entirely sure you were a danger to no-one least of all yourself. If someone went missing in the fog, was reported to levitate, or claimed to have seen any one of a number of an extraordinarily long list of obviously imaginary creatures from boggarts to sylphs, eyebrows would be raised but quietly in the background someone here would be informed about it. This was the place you came when no-one else could help you, or when f***es other than the numerous enemies that the empire already had were raised against it. Their operatives worked beyond endurance to keep a population, entirely unaware of their guardianship safe from all manner of threats real and imagined but all, serious and potentially fatal. Rachel was a girl of striking beauty and quick and dexterous mind but it was her lot to have been born poor into a society that like none before it determined success with wealth and permitted those without it scant opportunities for advancement. As a c***d her mother and her six c***dless s****rs - who Rachel loved as her aunts - had doted upon her as the youngest, though this was not to say that her b*****r and five s****rs went thus neglected. She too though, as all here siblings had been, was expected even required to leave the crowded f****y home – where she had had to share a bed, as well as other more intimate things with two of her s****rs… – to look for work as soon as she was old enough. ...