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Wendy, My Brother's Wife Ch. 01

By: Stultus





Wendy, My Brother's Wife Ch. 01



**********

I tried one last time to explain things on the plane flight together to New England.

"Wendy, you just don't understand. My older brother has literally slept with every girl and woman that I have ever so much as even looked twice at, let alone kissed. He's incredible at it; it's almost like magic watching him work. In five minutes he can take a girl who hates his guts and she'll soon be on her knees with his cock in her mouth. Every single time! I tell you now, that if he is home, and he's bound to be, he will try and seduce you - and he will probably succeed... and you will end up hating me afterwards."

Wendy was outraged at this suggestion, and she had a minor snit for the remaining thousand miles or so of the flight, berating me for having such a low opinion of the morals and willpower of my fiancé. She swore that she would never leave my side during the visit and we could indeed leave 'if things start to get ugly' and she would try to avoid my older brother, and certainly not ever fall onto her knees to worship his far superior cock.

********

The visit indeed didn't start out too badly. Only mother, father and Tanti were home that first day. The conversation at dinner was kept extremely neutral and mostly concerned the weather (it had been quite hot), and their health (not good - father had a recent stroke and mother was coughing fairly non-stop at all times and it was suspected to be lung cancer). My Aunt seemed the only one not particularly happy to see me, and to the best of my memory she never uttered a word to me, and only a few even to Wendy.

We shared my old bedroom together that night but did not make love together. I was lost in old memories, few if any of them good of happy ones. Wendy could tell that the atmosphere was extremely strained, but thought things hadn't gone too badly, and she expressed her hopes for an even smoother day tomorrow. My hopes for this were dashed when we saw Dragos at the breakfast table the next morning.

He complimented Wendy repeatedly, often gently touching her hand or her mostly bare shoulder with his ringed right hand. Wendy seemed much taken by him, right from the very start, and she seemingly had forgotten all of my warnings to her as she began returning his polite banter. I nearly had to tow her out of the house forcefully for a late morning walk around the grounds of the estate to get her away from him.

She maintained she was just having harmless fun with him and didn't know why I'd be so upset. Another minor snit ensued and we soon ended up walking back to the house, angry and not speaking to each other.

I said I was going to check out the closets of my bedroom to see I had anything remaining of my 'old things' and she said she'd soon come up to join me, but thought she'd have a word with my mother in the kitchen, and maybe try and help her with preparing lunch. Wendy didn't come upright away, and after about half an hour I went downstairs to find her. She was not in the kitchen either, but she had mentioned something to my mother and Dragos about wanting to take a swim before lunch, and my mother had told her that there were likely some swim suits in the pool house from some of Dragos's old girlfriends that would probably fit her. Alarmed, I ran, not walked, to the back of the house and outside to the pool in the back yard and I saw Dragos just entering the pool house. Running now around the side of the pool to an open window on a side corner of the pool house, I could hear what was being said and even see a little bit, although most of the view was partially obscured by a thin curtain.

"I see you have picked out my favorite!" I heard my brother say with a laugh. "It was the smallest one that she could find, but she still never ended up wearing it much, as she usually preferred to wear even less. Turn around for me and let me see you in it!" He commanded, and she obeyed.

From what little I could see, it was indeed the tiniest bikini I had ever seen. Wendy's nice firm tits were nearly completely exposed and the tiny thong bottom displayed all of her ass and just barely covered her mound. I think I could even see some of her pubic hair outside of the thong as she didn't normally shave much of her top bush, as she normally wore a much more conservative one-piece swimsuit.

"What was her name?" Wendy huskily asked him, and what did she like to do for you?"

"Her name is Annabelle, and she's a total slut and always kept her hair all nicely shaved away for me. She likes best to suck my big cock, and she'll do it for hours anytime and anywhere I ask her to do it for me. You fill out her tiny bikini better than she did; but can you also suck cock better than she did?"

Wendy never answered but dropped to her knees in front of him as he dropped his shorts, and she took his cock without hesitation into her mouth and sucked loudly on him. After a few moments her bikini top was taken off and he started to play with her tits with one hand and caressed her head and hair with his jeweled ring hand. Soon he let out a loud grunt and filled her mouth with his cum.

"Not bad," He told her, "but you need a bit more practice and I'll make sure you get it this week. Now drop your bottoms for me like a good girl and go sit on that counter top over there and I'll reward you with some nice hard cock right where you want it most."

Her tiny thong hit the floor nearly instantly as she obeyed him, spreading her legs widely for him to enter her, making no resistance at all as he did.

"Oh yes..." She hissed, as he started to fuck her, first slowly and then quite fiercely.

"It's bigger and nicer than that tiny boy-cock you've been getting lately, isn't it?" He asked her, and she croaked in agreement.

They fucked for a good while and then I heard him hiss, "Beg me to cum in your cunt, so that I can mark it being mine, and so that your ass and cunt will belong to me - and only to me! Beg to become my fuck bitch!"

She loudly begged for all of those things, and more. I couldn't stand to listen or watch for even another second, and I quietly turned to walk away, but not before hearing his loud roar as he filled my fiancés cunt full of his sperm load.

**********

I spent the afternoon upstairs in my old room. It was exactly like old times all over again. First my girlfriends and lovers, and now my fiancée were just meat puppets for the amusement of my sadistic older brother.

I heard them playing in the pool naked together for most of the afternoon, and even took an occasional look out of my bedroom window to see them cavorting, hugging, kissing and sometime screwing. I felt like I had died inside, and I just wanted to curl up in a corner and will myself to die, but I resolved to force one last final family confrontation instead.

Heading downstairs close to dinner time, I saw my mother and father sitting in the large living room. Mother's coughing, if anything, seemed to be worse. Neither would meet my eyes, and my father for the first time in his life, seemed embarrassed and stared continually at a rug on the floor as if he were inspecting a stain. My Aunt on the other hand, seemed enormously pleased with herself and her smugness could barely be contained. Her eyes were bright and happy and her chin was raised in a self-satisfied manner and her smile only got bigger as she saw me witness the scene in the dining room, that quite obviously she approved, and perhaps even encouraged.

Wendy was still nude and being ass-fucked by my brother while being bent over the dining room table, the table being already set mostly for dinner. I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Wendy! We are leaving right now immediately! Come with me now, or I will leave without you."

"I can't go now" she whined in sort of voice that implied my request was childish. "I need Dragos to finish cumming in my ass first so I can then completely belong to him."

Her face made it blatantly clear that she didn't want to go or now really want to have anything further to do with me. She turned her head to face away from me and allowed my brother continue his full hard driving use of her ass. All of my worst nightmares had once again come true.

My fury could no be contained and I spun to face my Aunt and in the best of Romanian tradition, cursed her sincerely from the very depth of my soul. In her native tongue naturally, in over 30 years of living in the US she had never bothered to learn more than a dozen words of English. She could tell my curse was serious, and her smirk was replaced by shock and horror at the fate I invoked God to bestow upon her.

Like the best and most dire of complicated Romanian curses, they never translate well into any other language, so I shan't describe it detail, but it did involve a creative use of a vast quantity of flaming pig manure that I hoped would be her new residence when she got to Hell (and hopefully soon).

For my parents, I bestowed no curse, but still they would not meet my eye.

"I do not know what evil part of Tanti's plans are so important that they are worth even five minutes of the misery you have allowed Dragos to make of my life. I no longer even care, and I think nothing but unhappiness and misery will be your lot in fate for the rest of your days. This will not be my curse upon you; it seems to be already entirely of your own doing. Go to your graves and ask yourself then if it was all worth it, but do not bother to ask for my forgiveness, because to me you are both already dead to me."

With that I left, and drove back to the airport to return to school. By the time I got there I had missed the last flight of the day to get back to the city nearest our my college, and so I spent a long sleepless night in the airport terminal, hoping and expecting to see Wendy returning to join me, but of course she didn't ever appear. I flew back home the next day, alone.

**************

I can be stubborn and can't easily change mental gears sometimes, but by the time the plane landed I had figured out at least one thing. Dragos was not that good of a seducer, especially for the extraordinary power that he could wield over a woman and utterly overpower every ounce of her self-will. It had to be magic, real old-world Magic.

Somehow, Tanti ended up being the guardian of an honest-to-goodness genuine and powerful 'Magic Ring' that could bend other peoples wills to his at the very minimum, and perhaps even perform total mind control. Parts of that strange and incomprehensible fifteenth birthday party started to now make a lot more sense. Somehow, through some long chain of ancestry, my mother and aunt were descendents of some uber-barbarian leader or Khan who had rampaged back and forth across Eastern Europe, sometime in the last 2000 years.

This ring had probably once commanded a horde of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, all willing to kill and die for its wielder. Today it was in the hands of a nearly brainless idiot (he barely got 'gentleman's 'C's' at college and even those probably required writing some fat Alumni checks), who used it mostly to seduce other men's wives and enact petty schemes of revenge. His political ambitions to follow in his father's seat in Congress had recently been resoundingly rebuffed, and even the voters of our local hometown declined to admit him to even the minor position of Alderman.

It would have been laughable, if I hadn't been personally hurt by it so many times. Tanti had apparently seriously miscalculated to even suspect that my brother was even remotely 'superior' or 'special' in any way.

I still had time for late entry into summer school classes and I took both sessions, expecting Wendy to return back to college each day. Now that I had figured out the magic trick with the ring, I had reasonably decided that I could forgive her, and that we could probably move on past this episode together. Dragos had always tired of my girls quite quickly, and I figured that he would soon grow tired of her also, and move on to his next sordid conquest and abject love slave. His attention span was quite notoriously short. But as the start of the fall semester began and she still had not yet appeared I began to become more and more concerned.

Finally, two days before the final deadline for late fall registration, I phoned her father in his small town near St. Louis. He had not heard from her in over a month, but last time she called she said she was 'staying with a new boyfriend in New England and might drop out of school for awhile.' I think her father sort of liked me, and I had met him a few times the previously year for short holidays from school with Wendy.

I gave him a few carefully sanitized facts, that Wendy had become infatuated with my older brother earlier in the summer, and that the two of us were at the moment 'separated' and that I was now completely estranged from my family. I did offer him my old family home phone number in the hopes that Wendy could be found there, so that he could speak with her.

He phoned me back at the college the next day. Yes, Wendy was still staying at my parent's home 'with Dragos'. Far from being tired of her yet, they were now engaged to be married next spring. She would not be returning to college at all, and even had no plans to visit her family at home anytime soon.

"Dragos needs me with him, here, now." She had repeated this phrase to her father often. He pledged to keep me up to date on events and I said I'd give him a call after I took early graduation at the end of the fall and moved on to a permanent job elsewhere. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to speak to him again for some years.

**********

I received my diploma, but it gave me little comfort. I had numerous job offers, despite a weak job market for print journalists. I would go and have a good interview and be offered the position, only to get a terse announcement a few days or weeks later saying that that the 'situation had changed' and that they had to terminate my position. After the third move to a new city in three months to be laid off immediately or fired for no reason, I began to smell my brother's handiwork. It was apparently still not enough that he was going to marry my fiancé, but that my life and happiness still had to be destroyed too.

Brooding late into the night in my poverty, I devised sort of a Plan 'B'. Well, it wasn't a very good plan really, but it sort of did work for awhile. I would take menial jobs that didn't have a whole lot of paperwork involving my real name or my social security number, and then quit and move to a new city about a month or two later and start over again. It was hard to get a good apartment that way, but my plan was to reduce the amount of paperwork I generated so that no matter what PI firms my brother used, they would have their work cut out for them to find me. I even toyed with the idea of getting a fake ID entirely and starting an entirely new life that way, but I hoped after about a year of this hassle he'd get bored and then leave me alone for awhile, so that I could actually use my degree that I had spent 3-1/2 years of my life acquiring.

*********

Instead, I was the one that got bored first and became lazy. I stayed three months at the same job in Phoenix doing local trucking deliveries. The job didn't pay all that well, but the fringe benefits were spectacular - I was sleeping with one of the dispatchers. She was extremely cute and a lot of fun in bed. She didn't have a brain in her pretty little head but she was a marvelous diversion at a time when I needed a little bit of fun in my life. We weren't serious and neither considered the other to be marriage material, but every time I started to kick myself to get moving on the road once again, she would happen to show up on the doorstep of my tiny rent by the week efficiency apartment, and I would get 'distracted' for another week or two.

Definitely a week or two much too long. I woke up one morning to find that I was being arrested for 1st Degree Murder.



Wendy, My Brother's Wife Ch. 02



I'm not quite sure of all of the details of exactly what happened to this very day. I had to work a bit late to handle an evening delivery, and when I got to my apartment Suzie (the cute dispatcher) was there and greeted me at the door with a drink and only wearing a smile.

That alone should have warned me of two things. Suzie had never done anything remotely 'domestic' before, and if I had looked harder, I probably would have seen that she was already well fucked and I had interrupted her fun. I then made a bigger mistake, I drank the offered drink and was woozy and disoriented even before I ever made it to the bedroom. One of Dragos bully boys helped me collapse into a chair while I watched my brother and three friends repeatedly have sex with a very willing and complacent Suzie for the next hour.

"I can't be spending all of my time looking after you." Dragos said to me, later as he was zipping up his pants. "You're really not very interesting anymore, and it's just too time consuming now to be constantly having to chase you down all over the country. Fortunately there are nice tax-payer funded places that are perfect for keeping you miserable, and out of my way for the rest of your life. If you should happen to drop the soap in the shower, just smile and think of the kindness of your big brother for yet another wonderful opportunity to get screwed."

I saw Suzie being given some money as she was escorted out by Dragos and one of his goons. Two others remained behind and I was given an injection and remembered nothing more until the next day when two uniformed police officers were trying to slap me awake, and I knew then that I was in one serious pickle.

On the face of it, the entire setup was such a complete and obvious 'frame-up' that all the case needed was a big bag marked 'swag' and a fake confession with me offering up a "it's a fair cop, guv'nor."

Dragos had spent his bribe money well; there were dubious calls from non-existent neighbors complaining about sounds of fighting and me 'threatening to kill her', despite the statements of the nice little old lady next door, who was an insomniac and stated she never heard me utter a single sound all night.

The bed was drenched in blood (her blood type) and a bloody knife with my fingerprints on it was found under the bed. More blood was found in the back of my small delivery truck at work. Ergo, I had killed her in a drug fueled rage and stashed her body somewhere out in the desert. The fact that my trucks odometer had not changed since I had completed my delivery at 7 p.m., when I turned in the keys to dispatch, was considered somehow irrelevant.

As a frame, it was so sloppy that I became increasing angry with the Police and the ADA's in charge of my case for falling for it. Seeing that no one cared about my defense, or had been paid to ignore it, I eventually just shut up and refused to cooperate entirely. My young overworked legal aid attorney had a caseload of at least thirty-five other pending cases and she spent at least half of her time with me trying to get me to accept a plea deal (it was obvious by her attitude she believed I had done it). She never even bothered to obtain any copies of the DA's sloppy lab tests that probably would have gotten my case dismissed right on the spot.

Even my Judge seemed to think that the DA's case against me was beyond circumstantially weak, until the wind changed three days into my trial, when he began to openly wish that he could just hang me. (I found out years later his 'change of heart' coincided with a $50,000 campaign donation made by my brother).

In a state of utter disbelief, I found myself sentenced to serve a total of eighty-seven years for the crime of 1st Degree Murder, and a few other minor offenses. When I joking apologized that I doubted I would be able to serve the entire sentence, the Judge just looked down on me and said, "Well son, then you'll just have to do the best you can." And he laughed.

**************

The next 3-1/2 years were spent in a ultra-modern 'SuperMax' facility where I never saw the sun at all and twenty-three hours of my day were in solitary with one hour of solo 'exercise' in a little concrete dog-run. Frankly, it reminded me a lot of being back in Junior High, so I'd just sit on my one stair step and read one of my books. Exercise? Why on earth did I want to be healthy?

I stayed quiet, except for 'Yes/No" with "Sir and Ma'am " for the guards. I got the impression that I was expected to be trouble for them, but after a long while I think even the most bull-headed of the lot figured out that I just wanted to do my time in peace, and if I was left alone I'd sure as hell leave everyone else alone.

**************

About three years after I arrived there, I was brought in for my annual psych visit. I hadn't liked the guy I had spoken to my first two years and he had seemed to resent the fact that I was so 'passive' here. I had claimed I was innocent, hadn't I? Why wasn't I complaining, protesting, or doing 'something or anything' to draw attention to myself?

"What was the point?" I would always say. "If I could find an attorney that cared and was willing to agree that the grass was green or the sky was blue, my brother would pay for ten other experts to claim the exact opposite. If I wasn't happy here, then at least I wasn't completely miserable - I had been treated worse, I assured him.

My new shrink was a married gal just about my age who was a sloppy dresser and wore no makeup (probably on purpose so as not to be 'attractive' to a lot of very scary and mostly crazy men, many of whom hadn't seen a good looking woman in a very long time.

Obviously, she would be (or should be) nervous of me as the last woman I supposedly was in a room with had been carved up. Fortunately for her, she also had a pair of guards behind me willing and very able to make me piss blood from my kidneys for the next month, if I even looked at her sideways. She spent ten minutes rereading my file, looked at me again, and tossed her file folder in frustration ontop the table that divided us.

"I don't think I've ever read this much contradictory bullshit in one file since my grad school days." She said, looking at me. "In your own words, tell me why you are here today?"

"There are any number of things I could say to start with, namely that the great, glorious and sovereign State of Arizona fell for the most obvious frame up job, composed of weak and ridiculously circumstantial evidence I've every heard of, and that my brother, the son of a former US Congressman, has the will, the money and the political power to make sure my ass will never leave these lovely hallowed halls until I've assumed room temperature, and my body starts to stink. Well, I could also mention that he also has a magic ring that mind controls everyone around him, but that would just make you check the "batshiate nuts" box in my records."

"Did I kill the woman I was convicted of murdering?" I added. "No, and as a college graduate with honors from my school, I should hope that in the extremely unlikely event that I would ever have been forced to commit a murder, that I would have done it in by far the stupidest method I've ever heard of? Do I like it here as an inmate, trapped for life? No, not really, but what good would complaining do? Do I blame my parents? Not particularly for my being here today - I blame them for many other things, but not this. Did I miss anything? Or is there any other topic you'd like to discuss with me before the nice gentlemen behind me take me back to my quiet little cell, but not before thumping me a good few times for being impertinent to you?"   

She was speechless, and two minutes later I was back in my cell and counted myself lucky that I only pissed blood for a few days instead of the expected week. A few weeks later I learned from a guard that I was being 'reclassified' and would probably soon be transferred to a lesser security prison.

This actually took a few months to arrange, and I supposed I owed it all to the new psych shrink who actually could be bothered to do her job herself, instead of just following what everyone had written or said before her.

************

The next 4-1/2 years were in a lesser security facility, not quite technically 'low security' but not really 'medium' either. I had a cell mate, but I guess I could have had a much worse one, and I even had a job now (actually two) learning diesel truck repair by day, and working an actual real journalism job, handling the prison staff newsletter for this unit and three other nearby sister facilities. I wasn't quite a trustee (they didn't have any), but I was allowed to live virtually non-stop otherwise in the prison library. Like most prison libraries, it sucked, but it suited my tastes pretty decently. What it lacked in modern works, it more than made up for in the classics, Dickens, Sir Walter Scott, Kipling, etc. By the time I was done with them they were nearly worn out.

I half expected to have some 7 foot giant with gravel for a voice grab me by my throat to introduce me to his friend "Mr Johnson" and his foot-long cock, and make me his bitch, but instead I was surprised to find that my new roommate Pablo was rather short in stature, and had other physical shortcomings that fortunately were of no concern to me either. He was an excitable chap who was pretty much liked by everyone and was often used as an emissary between the various prison factions.

Being half-Hispanic, and one quarter each white and black, he could belong to none of the gangs, but he was largely tolerated by each. Outside, he had been an 'Introducer'; he knew people in low places that could handle all of your problems, both simple and complex, and would take his percentage in return for an introduction. He knew murderers, pimps, drug dealers, forgers, safe crackers, thieves, smugglers and their mules, and even forgers. I was particularly interested to learn that his cousin Leon, in Del Rio, Texas, excelled in providing high quality forged identification papers, so I filed the name carefully away for future reference. If I ever got out, my own name would be poison, and I'd a completely new identity to hide with.

For the next three years or so, before Pablo was paroled, I was able to make myself useful enough to him (usually just standing guard while he did some other business), that he even offered me the some of the time of his own personal paid attorney, who was most definitely not another over-worked kid from some legal aid or public defenders office. I gave him all of the 'facts' of my case for him to investigate, but I warned him under no circumstance to ever contact my brother, other family members or let them know of his work. It took him some time, but even under gentle and quiet but probing analysis the case against me began to soon fall totally apart.

DNA testing was now out of the research laboratories and approved as solid reliable science, and available to all. The copious blood evidence that had framed me didn't even all belong to a single blood donor, and none of it was even Suzie's blood type, let alone a match to her DNA. A cursory search revealed that Suzie, naturally was alive and well and still living openly under her own name in Seattle.

Other more penetrating searches revealed that key witnesses against me had suddenly made large and unusual bank deposits before and after their testimony, and even a former police officer was now willing to testify that he and his partner had received bribes to fabricate or cloud the evidence, assumed that he could receive immunity... and keep his police pension.

I could have made a fortune, suing everyone that had put me into jail, except that the publicity would have attracted my brother's attention. All I really wanted now to get out of jail, and hide myself immediately with a new identity, and make something out of the rest of my life.

*********

You would think that finding one's alleged murder victim alive and well would be immediate grounds for an instant appeal and a hasty pardon, but the process of getting me free seemed to take forever. Even Suzie admitting under oath that an old boyfriend had put her up to this 'joke', didn't seem to get my prison doors opened any faster. I soon began to fear that Dragos would learn of my slowly impending release and arrange some sort of a new roadblock.

None too soon, and without any apologies from the great State of Arizona, and a small but suitable check to cover my earnings while an involuntary employee of the State, I hopped the first Greyhound bus heading towards Del Rio.

Even with the instructions I had, it still took me a couple of days to find Cousin Leon, but he was indeed just the man I needed. He acknowledged that my case would be handled at no charge, as a favor to Pablo, and forty-eight hours later, 'Charles Scott Kipling' made his non-literary debut, complete with a real Commercial Texas Drivers License, and a 'genuine reproduction copy' of my new Birth Certificate, from a central Texas Courthouse that had suffered a convenient fire a few years after my alleged birth, with a friendly county clerk always eager to help out his old friend Leon, for a slight fee. There was even a pre-paid credit card that had a $500 balance.

I had a new identify that could stand up to nearly any possible challenge, and I set off to find myself a new home.

**********

Desperate for news, I risked calling Wendy's parents from a payphone right before I left Del Rio. My conversation with her father had been very brief and he did all of the talking.

"Wendy is doing alright and she is safe for the moment... but you are not. This phone is probably tapped and he has well-paid and experienced people that are already looking for you everywhere and won't ever stop. Please, do not call us again."

Click, end of conversation. Her father just sounded sad and there was no anger or animosity in his voice. Probably they rued the day that I had met her daughter, and had then allowed Dragos to steal her away from me, but I didn't hear any hint of this in his voice. He just sounded tired and perhaps sad. I couldn't blame him, as I was more than a bit mentally tired of this as well.

I'd had years alone, or mostly so, in prison to think about what I had done... and more importantly, what I hadn't done. Alright, so I didn't figure out the 'Magic Ring' trick until it was too later for either of us, but still, before I left Wendy alone at my brother's mercy, I still should have done something! Instead, I'd reverted back to being the scared and hurt boy of my childhood and had run away from the problem once again.

If given another chance to fix this old wrong, I swore as I boarded the Greyhound for El Paso later that evening. I didn't want to take the first bus heading out of town after my phone call as I suspected that Dracos' private investigators would especially check out the destinations of the first couple of buses. I got off at the first stop, Fort Stockton, and then waited a bit to take the random 4th bus that left next.

I pulled this random selection of destinations act three more times until I ended up in Oklahoma City. Once there, I risked staying for a day or two while attempting to lay down a nice false trail. I applied for several jobs and even checked into national chain hotel using my real name. I had a nice casual conversation with the desk clerk and a waitress at the diner next door when I checked out, giving her enough of a tip for her to remember my face. I told them both that I had received a good job offer for a caretakers job up in the Rockies, near Denver, Colorado.

I hoped this area was large and remote enough to keep my hunters busy for a good long while, or at least long enough for me to settle down some root with my new identify.

**********

My next bus trip brought me back into Texas to San Antonio, but I didn't stay for very long as I had a hankering to see the Gulf Coast. Heading next down to Corpus Christi, I tried to see if I could find a journalism job there, but without my degree (in my old name), it was about impossible. I was advised to seek out the local remote County newspapers to start my career there. Fine, that seemed as good of an idea as any. Fine. I preferred to be able to write, but if necessary I could take a diesel repair job nearly anywhere as well.

I bought some camping supplies and started hiking up the beach highway north. My plan was to go to Refugio and then Victoria, but I somehow made a wrong turn, because two days later I ended up in an odd sort of town not quite on the beach called Lovett. My first clue that I was not quite in Kansas anymore, figuratively speaking, was when a pair of young lovely ladies (and quite topless) pulled over to offer me ride in their jeep into town. With the view as it was bouncing over these horrible country roads, how could I refuse?

They dropped me off in the town square close to sundown, but it actually wasn't a real town square, like I'd seen everywhere else in Texas so far. The town centre was actually a pentagon, with a small central park with a black stone spire stuck right smack in the center. It made for extremely confusing directions, as nothing in the town was on a true north- south/east-west street grid. I was given directions for a local bed and breakfast (there didn't seem to be any real hotels at least in this part of town), but after three tries to find it I gave up. It wasn't really in my limited budget anyway.

The local grocery stayed opened fairly late, so I got a sandwich for my dinner and a screw-top bottle of wine to wash it down it (nasty stuff!) and settled in on a park bench to wait for morning to see if I could find some work anywhere. Like most small towns everywhere, the old part of town shuts down right at dark and I didn't seen anyone for hours.

I had my dinner, and spread out my sleeping bag on the grass near the spire. I figured sooner or later the Sheriff or some local Constable would be along to roust me up and guide me to where I wanted to get to anyway - a proper but cheap bed. I had means of support so I wasn't worried about a vagrancy charge, but I did not sleep well. I kept adjusting my position and I soon had my back leaning against the stone pillar in a vain effort to find some comfortable position. I got a little sleep, but I also had the worst dreams of my life - no understatement, and woke up at midnight screaming, to find that someone was already trying to shake me awake.

He gave his name as Father Alex and said he was the minister of the local church, and said I obviously needed a much better place to spend the night, to which I wholeheartedly agreed. Already I had forgotten my bad dream, but I remembered it was worse than any I had suffered while in prison. I was soon led to a much nicer accommodation in a small guest room in one of the annex buildings of the church and my dreams for the remainder of the night were distinctly improved. It was a shock the next morning to find that my host, in fact, runs his church in the middle of possibly one of the largest nudist colonies in the country.

***********

When I stepped foot into The Church that early Sunday morning I realized I was quite badly overdressed. In fact, I was the only person in the entire church wearing even a stitch of clothing. Out of politeness for the gentleman who had rescued me from a bad night in the park, I was more than willing to be polite and strip myself and find a back corner seat out of the way and listen to what my host had to offer for my spiritual welfare. I was used to seeming rooms full of naked people in prison, but this was quite different.

It wasn't really even sexual, it just came over as folks wearing their 'inside clothes on the outside' was how someone later described it to me, and quite accurately. There was little mention about God, and much more emphasis on truth and honesty. Alex was a superb speaker and his talks were filled with humor and displayed an obvious care for the folks he ministered to. I would have traded in a heartbeat the thousands of stupid prison sermons I'd heard over the years for just five minutes of Alex's gentle words.




Wendy, My Brother's Wife Ch. 02



Immediately after service, Father Alex made a beeline to me and steered me around the fellowship hall to 'meet a few people' - more like hundreds of them. Within minutes I had two jobs, a day job maintaining and driving a tired old truck to handle some local and regional deliveries, and a night job assisting the elderly solo-proprietor and Editor of the Lovett Starry-Beacon (with a circulation of 'dozens').

Another senior citizen member offered a room for lease at a rate that seemed more than reasonable and before I knew it I was all set and established in town.

The Church 'Fellowship Hour' actually seemed to continue long past noon and much of the afternoon was spent with a large church luncheon and picnic on their vast grounds. Children played in a large well-equipped park, teenagers swam in the local pool or played a dozen other sporting games and the adults chatted, socialized and enjoyed the sun - all without a stitch of clothing. The more I learned about the town, the stranger indeed it seemed to become.

The rather enormous Nudist Colony that ran a bit to the east of the town center and then down onwards to the coast was the bread and butter industry of much of the township and county of the same name. There was some minor tourism for the beach, but ranching and farming were the only other traditional industries, and both were rather depressed economically. There was a bit of a harbor in a bay to the southwest, but it wasn't an especially good one, surrounded nearly on all sides with shallow mudflats and hardly any deep water for landing boats. Also the very bad local county road made getting anywhere outside of the old town in poor weather problematic at best. Much of the land to the west and especially southwest near the bay tended to be worthless salt marsh, but there was an old WW-2 era airfield to the northeast that had a minor charter service business and a fledgling aviation corporation that had just moved down here from New England. There was also some talk of a local computer software company that was starting to prosper a little bit, but the overall tone was of a small rural economy with very few opportunities for growth.

I settled into my new jobs easily and the next Friday late afternoon, with a paycheck in my hand, I was greeted by the good Father Al, as he preferred to be called. He jokingly asked that, "Since I was now a man of means, would I enjoy sharing a glass of wine and a beach walk with him to discuss my week in town and perhaps share a bit of past history?" All three ideas sounded good to me.

We took his jeep down to the beach area, and I splurged for a pair of tall icy-cold Pinot Grigio wine glasses served from a beachside saloon called Phil's Cantina and we enjoyed a bit of a walk. We were the only ones clothed at all on the beach, but I wasn't in the mood to strip down and my tippling priest and confessor followed my example.

I had resolved that I would mention nothing of prison, let alone my framing and under no circumstances discuss my brother Dragos whatsoever. This firm resolution held fast for least 1/4 mile, and by the time forty-five minutes later when we had reached the end of the beach inside the bay, near the Marsh-King's fishing pier, I had pretty much confessed everything there was to be confessed.

We walked back to Phil's, which was apparently a very well regarded local beachside watering hole that was a favorite place for young couples enjoying their weekends, sipping a frozen margarita or two and splashing about nude on the nearby well-lighted beach to either watch or be watched. I splurged for another round of drinks, the famous frozen hard lemonades this time, and I continued to confess until my 'insides were now my outsides' as a local expression went.

Father Al just sat in silence. The scary part was that I knew that he had believed, really believed every single word that I had told him. I had tried lying to him earlier, and he had detected it instantly, and even the slightest shading of the truth had brought a gentle correction from him. He believed my real story - but now what was I to do?

"Charles... Scott... Kipling..." He muttered, "as in Dickens, Sir Walter and Rudyard, right?" He asked me with a smile. Damn, I hate smart assed priests! I had to buy him another drink just to wipe the smug look off of his face.

"Father, do you believe in magic? Real 'wave your wand and the Prince is turned into a frog' kind of magic?" I asked him a few hours later when he dropped me off at my boarding house.

"Oh, yes. Absolutely and without a doubt!" He said with a faint smile before driving back on to the Church.

************

I settled into a routine with my jobs and soon decided that I liked the town (and especially its people) enough to want to stay for a good long while. I found a small abandoned house that I could rent for about what I was paying in rent that was near my day job, and I bought a used 10-speed bike cheap to ride into Towns Centre, where the small newspaper office was. I needed the exercise anyway.

Alice Grumley, had to have been at least seventy-five years old and was bitchy and cantankerous, but she had also worked for this newspaper since her grandfather took it over in the late 1920's. Lovett had a bit of a revival in those days before the Great Depression, but had collapsed enough that even the minor benefits of a local Army Air Corps Base during the war had not much improved the economy until the arrival of a large number of hippies and 'free-spirits' during the late 1960's, and the start of the Nudist Colony. Alice had seen it all, and I actually learned more from her in a few weeks than I had learned in an entire semester in some of my college journalism classes.

Her eyes were bad, quite terrible in fact, and the printing press we used was straight from her grandfather's era, using metal type that had to be painstakingly selected a single character at a time. Naturally, with her bad eyes, there were a lot of mistakes being made, and I soon did all of the typesetting duty on Tuesday nights, the night our press rolled. Technically, the newspaper lost money every time a page was printed. Theoretically, there was a subscription fee and there was some minor advertising, but it didn't come close to paying Alice's actual production costs, let alone my time. I was working now as an Assistant Editor (there were only the two of us) for virtually free, as even the minor expense of buying a new can of coffee for the office sometimes became a major problem.

We couldn't afford to pay even the local kids to deliver the papers, so Wednesday morning they were just taken to all of the remaining open businesses in the Towns Centre, for them to hand out free to their customers. About noon, one of the Church Ladies would come and get a great stack to be kept at the Church for most folks to pickup on Sunday.

It was an odd system, but it worked more or less. We both knew that nearly every dime from her pocket went to feed the printing press and that some day its expenses would exceed her small pension (what she ate or lived on I have no clue), but that final day always just seemed another month or two away. Somehow we survived. If she ever noticed that I sometimes slipped a ten or twenty dollar bill of my own into the petty cash, it was politely never mentioned.

*********

The time just seemed to flow, and a pleasant stay of a few months soon turned into a few years, and I will be honest - I hardly thought of Wendy or Dragos at all. I was safe, secure, and happy. In fact I was the happiest I could ever remember being in my entire life. I had friends, co-workers at both jobs who respected me, and I even had no particular lack of female companionship, albeit this was mostly 'just sex'. There were no indications of any of my casual relationships would turn into more permanent companionship. Things just never seemed to work out in that direction.

I can remember paying a brief visit to our local printing shop one Monday. They made the engraving plates for photos or the advertisements used for our vintage printing press and we also got our cheap paper stock from them, only to find a lady I knew casually from Church by the name of Marsha there. She worked for the resident computer genius, Warren Black, and I saw something that just about stopped my heart. Yes, she was very pretty, but it was common knowledge she only really had eyes for Warren - who being a total git, was clueless as to her love for him.

She said it was called desktop publishing! On her Mac computer, she had created a newsletter brochure for their customers that looked 100 times better than our old vintage mechanical press could create. I begged her to show me how it was done, and I then spent the next two hours in awe of how easily in theory a newspaper could be assembled on a computer screen, edited and then printed on a laser printer complete with glorious photos and scrolling details far too delicate for anything we could otherwise print with our old heap. I had seen the future of publishing, but I knew that neither Alice nor I could afford any of the expenses of setting this equipment up, even if it would save us a fortune in other costs each and every month thereafter.

I seemed also to spend an evening at least once a month with Father Al, but we rarely discussed my past now or even Dragos, Wanda and the Ring, until one evening walking down the beach anticipating our rendezvous with Phil's Cantina and Ice House for something pleasant and frozenly alcoholic he casually mentioned this bombshell.

"You know your father died last month just after Christmas, I saw it in the New York Times and Wall Street Journal. He'd been sick for quite a long time they said, and his eldest son and heir had been selling off most of the family businesses a piece at a time for many years. I hear Jeff Wallace has a container load that needs to be taken up by truck up to Delaware, not too far from your hometown. Why don't you ask to handle that delivery and then stop by the grave and say goodbye?"

Why not, I soon talked myself into it and resolved by the end of the evening to do just that. I also made one other more secret resolution. I was tired of living a false life under another name and I was really feeling the urge to be "Me" instead of "Kip" as I was known around town. Since I couldn't take a medieval crossbow to shoot down the evil Wizard from the safety of a nearby rooftop, I'd do the next best thing.

In one of my last stops before leaving the area, I bought a deer hunting rifle with a scope and a case of .30-06 slugs that would make any further operation of a 'Magic Ring quite moot. I was long past time, I decided, that I fought back!

***********

I don't know when this idea to finally eliminate my brother occurred to me, but I know it had been in the back of my mind for some years. Maybe even since my final weeks in prison once I realized that I would be at last escaping the trap he had set for me. He had stolen most of my life, and certainly my only real hope for romantic happiness. Sadly, every woman I had met since Wendy seemed oddly inferior to her somehow and I could never figure out exactly why. Undoubtedly, he had totally destroyed her life too somehow, and I just couldn't picture them as a normal happily married couple. I just felt a growing and burning need to destroy the ogre, to put him down like the insane and diseased creature he obviously was.

This single thought occupied my time for the entire three days of my drive, quite insanely, until I finally found myself for the first time in over a decade, parked unobtrusively as a truck can get, right in front of my old family home.

I had no clue what kind of car Dragos now drove, or if he had a chauffeur as my father often did in his Congressional days. I resolved to just watch the house and wait. I parked the truck further down the road closer to the main road in an area where a big diesel truck cab wouldn't look too out of place and I waited in the woods for two days with my scope trained on the front door to watch and nail the bastard if he ever walked out.

Instead, late on my second day a small two-seat sports car at length pulled into the drive from the other direction down the main road and I saw Dragos get out of the car and walk (seemingly a tad unsteadily) towards the front door. I hardly recognized him, he had gained at least fifty pounds, and perhaps even a hundred, enough for his gait to waddle, even if stone cold sober, which Dragos didn't at all appear to be. I thought he had been drinking fairly heavily, and his unsteadiness made the adjustment of my rifle scope on him difficult. His lurching steps made it nearly impossible for me feel certain enough about hitting him, and I reluctantly held my fire.

Just when I thought I had a good shot (but was still hoping for a better one) the front door opened and a little boy of about six ran to greet his 'Papa'. In the doorway, with her hands folded in front of her chest was the scowling form of Wendy!   

This changed everything; my thoughts of shooting down Dragos like a rabid dog were now evaporated. Wendy and Dragos were still married, although they did not appear to be in love, and they did not kiss or touch each other or show any signs of affection as he entered the house, but his son appeared to love him nevertheless.

Alone, I am sure that I could have murdered my evil brother, and in cold blood without the slightest bit of remorse... but I couldn't make Wendy a widow, or assassinate a little boy's father right in front of his eyes.

**********

I cried in the woods until long after dark and cried nearly continually for most of the non-stop drive home, stopping only for fuel and to throw my unused rifle into a nearby river. My world was once again shattered, seemingly beyond any and all hope of repair.

*********

I had assumed that my moronic brother would eventually tire of her, his attention span had never been very long at best, and he usually tired of most of his women partners within a few months. I had prayed that Wendy would now hopefully be safe somewhere, and with Dragos out of the picture I could maybe safely 'reappear' and find her again. My feelings had not changed for her. She had been trapped by a sadistic bastard with all of his alleged magical power at his disposal - what could she hope to do to evade this? The answer was 'frankly not much'.

But now, over ten years later, she was apparently still his prisoner, and my heart began to utterly despair. This was worse than being in prison; these walls and bars seemed so much stronger and higher and I could see no way outside.

**********

I returned the truck to Jeff's small trucking yard and muttered that I needed a few days off. Before going home to brood, I'm afraid I bought quite a few bottles of liquid refreshment to enjoy (or not) for the next few days. I don't make a good drunk, I just get weepier and sleepy, so I'd drink, cry and sleep, in a repeating cycle. Somehow, it wasn't quite as therapeutic as I thought and hoped it would be, and after a few days Father Al came banging on the door and brought my private little grief session to a close, and dragged me off to a noontime walk on the beach (sans more alcoholic beverages).

"I'm glad to see you decided not to kill your brother." He said without much of a preamble before continuing.

"How did I know? Assume that I might also have a magic ring of my own (waving his large antique blue sapphire ring that he always wore at me casually), or being a priest, I am especially good at detecting when people are 'up to something' and especially something that they shouldn't be doing. Or lastly, I could have just noticed a box of deer slugs in your house right before you left and I know you don't hunt, and it's isn't even the right time of year to go shooting Bambi anyway. That left just your brother Dragos."

Damn he was good. That was the main trouble with his Church that preached nothing but living honesty. You are expected to be totally honest!

I confessed my sins of thought, but not of deed and I think I did feel a bit better afterwards, although I didn't know quite why.

"My penance?" I asked him.

"Just meditate, if you can, and try and get all of your very tangled feelings straightened out." And one other tiny little detail.

"Sometime soon," he added, "I will be asking you to do something very hard that you will feel not at all capable of doing, but I will ask you to do it anyway. You really won't like it, but I'll ask you to do it anyway. Understand? Of course not, but you will later."

With that we walked back towards town, it being a lovely early spring day with the walk was more enjoyable than the short drive would have been.

********

The spring and summer seemed to crawl by slowly, as if each day was about forty-eight hours long instead of just the normal twenty-four. I kept feeling that I was waiting for something to happen, but things just remained normal and my life slowly got back into its usual routine. I sometimes felt that if I could have climbed the next tallest building or hill, then I might have been able seen it coming, but I never did. I think when the envelope arrived one Saturday afternoon it was more of a relief than anything else, I knew the period of waiting that I had been enduring was finally over.

The envelope had Wendy's married name and the return address of the family home in New England. Inside was a printed notification of the time and date of my brother's funeral. At the bottom, below the time and date of the internment ceremony at the graveyard, was a doubled underlined phrase in Wendy's delicate handwriting saying, "Please come!"

I brooded on the letter all evening and night, but I saw no way to raise the money for the plane flight (my own savings were now being eaten to keep the paper alive for yet 'one more issue), and a drive would take too long to get there, even driving non-stop. I had seen The Church work at least thousand 'miracles' in my few years there with them, but I had never seen anything like what happened right during church the next morning, when Father Al rose up to speak as the offering plates were being distributed.

"Kip has received notice of a critical family emergency out of state that needs to respond to fast, and could a few folks please make some minor contributions to help him get there and back."

This started an avalanche of cash, mostly single dollars, but sometimes five's and ten's. Everyone was poor then, but still they donated what they could spare, and when the collection was counted up I had enough for a round trip commercial plane flight from Houston. A local bush pilot from the County airfield even donated his time and gas to get me there.

There was no hint or discussion of 'repayment' - if the Church ever helped you, then you made sure to help others in equal need later if you had an extra dollar or two. It was a barter system that always worked and even earned interest.

"Was this the unpleasant thing I was going to have to do?" I asked Father Al later.

"Not even close." He said with a laugh.

***********

The next day I was 'home', or rather at the closest inexpensive hotel I could find near the cemetery. I even had enough cash left over for an economy rental car so that I would not have to contact any remaining family members for transportation to and from the airport. I had my own plans for honoring my brother's funeral and I was pretty sure they would not be entirely welcomed by my remaining relatives.

I needn't have worried; my Wendy always did have a sense of humor and style.

I did not approach anywhere near the family during the actual service, even though frankly almost no one was there. There was a minister of some sort and a representative from the funeral home I think. Aunt was tending to Wendy's son and Wendy was dressed for a sunny day on a tropical beach in a very bright floral and short Hawaiian sundress, despite the fact that it was late fall and quite cold and wet. That was it for the mourners.




Wendy, My Brother's Wife Ch. 02



I did not want to see Aunt or speak with her at all, so I remained a bit distant until after the service was over and his casket was placed into the grave, but I still think everyone had noticed my presence, as everyone kept looking over to where I was not so successfully trying to hide.

When the service was over, Aunt took the little boy back to the car and she left, without looking at me. This was better than I had hoped or expected, I had really never wanted to utter another word to her ever again in my lifetime. Like I had said so many years ago when I left home for good on that dreadful day, she was indeed already quite dead to me.

Wendy was alone at the grave and she nearly immediately sent the undertaking crew off and as they probably had not wanted to work in the rain themselves, were happy to leave the 'merry widow' at the graveside, and the widow was very merry indeed!   

Wendy had apparently not stopped drinking champagne since the very first notice of her husband's death and had a very special send-off indeed planned for him. After taking a swig straight from a champagne bottle (she appeared to have about a case on ice in a large ice chest) she hiked up her skirt, aiming over the casket below and took a great long and very satisfying piss directly onto her late husband's coffin.

"Great minds think alike" I told her as I moved up next to her to unzip my own fly from my Hawaiian shorts. I hadn't brought champagne for this party, but instead I had a couple of six-packs of beer in a cooler of my own. I tend to recycle beer faster than I do other drinks, and I thought this would create a 'frothier product' when dispensed upon his coffin. We laughed while we finished draining our bladders and drank a toast to the late and unlamented William Dragos.

She offered me a fresh cold bottle of champagne to drink and the taste was really much better than the cheap beer I had bought. She had come well prepared with a full case of a dozen bottles of very good expensive bubbly, perfectly iced down, intending to have a very long and productive latrine session before this grave got covered up for good.

"How did the bastard die?" I asked her, and the answer was almost predictable. The fucker never did have much of a grasp of reality and anyone doing constant heavy drinking and then driving on northern icy roads can discover that very bad things can happen and that mother nature is extremely unforgiving. His last thought before he plowed his car into a tree (the tree won) was probably wonderment at why his magic hadn't saved him.

As I suspected, his death was mourned by literally no one, surprisingly not even his formerly doting Aunt.

***********

We spent a great afternoon and evening there and by a heroic effort we had put a pretty good dent into the case of champagne and the skies unloaded and the rain came down in buckets. At some point, to save time while pissing, Wendy just stepped out of her soaking wet dress and I was treated to a very interesting shaved view of her privates I had never seen before. Wendy had quite furry pubic hair when we were together and now she was completely shaved, and she also had multiple vaginal piercings. I was none too sober myself and had also probably neglected to zip back up my shorts at one point.

I sobered up fairly when I realized that we were both now lying naked on the rainy wet ground by the graveside with Wendy sitting on top of me just starting to mount herself over my partially erect cock. For lack of a better plan, I grabbed a pierced nippled breast in each hand and held on for dear life. It took me awhile to cum, I've never been a good fuck when drunk - it really hurts my concentration, but Wendy seemed to come quite a few times while riding me. At last I filled her cunt with my cum for the first time in about fifteen years.

We laid together soaking wet in the now pouring rain and decided that we had recycled enough good champagne into a very poor hole in the ground and called our revenge pretty much complete. Later I got the distinct idea that Wendy had plans to heavily salt and poison the grass so that nothing would ever grow on his grave, but I thought that might happen naturally anyway.

********

Sober the next morning while waiting for the family lawyer to arrive, we realized that awful lot of water had passed under the bridge since we had been together as lovers back in college. A lot of very sewage filled water.

We had a hard time meeting and holding the other ones eyes and our late breakfast together was memorable only for what was not said rather than what very little was.

The will reading was quick and simple and probably didn't need to involve me at all because my late parents had left everything to Dragos, now everything in turn was left to Wendy for the care of their son, Victor. There had been a couple very minor bequeaths to me, but I verbally declined them all, and willingly signing a prepared statement that I refused acceptance of even a token $ .01 from the estate. I wanting nothing from my brother, and I willing passed any claims I had upon any part of the family holdings to Wendy and to Victor, their son.

My old room had long since been utterly cleaned out a very long time ago, and there was not one single item in the entire house that reminded me of any good times or that I desired to take back home with me. I had a 5 p.m. flight from the regional airport and it would take me awhile to get back there and return my rental car, etc, so I started making my excuses early. I told her that I needed to leave soon, then very soon, and then finally 'now', but still I just couldn't leave yet. For some reason, the opportunity to have little Victor sit in my lap seemed far more important than my scheduled plane flight.

He seemed a cheerful and happy child and frankly I could see nearly nothing at all of his father in him. He had manners and knew exactly how he was expected to behave at all times. Even with Wendy's motherly presence, I had feared that my brother (under Aunts baleful influence) would try to create another inhuman monster.

Wendy and I tried to say goodbye, but we didn't do a very good job of it. We each gave the other vague hints that we'd call or write soon and Wendy indicated that she was going to liquidate everything from the family estate, sell the property and probably move back to her family's home near St. Louis for a while. They had not seen her much these last years and they had met their new grandson only once before.

Like a very similar day about fifteen years earlier, I sat awaiting my flight home in the terminal, and spent every minute bobbing my head up to look around to see if she had at last decided to join me on the flight. But just like the last time, I made the flight home alone.



Wendy, My Brother's Wife Ch. 03



Father Al picked me up at Lovett County Field and asked me how it went.

All that I could think of to reply was, "Better than I had expected, but not as good as I had hoped." He asked me no further questions, for which I was very profoundly grateful.

The next three months went fairly quickly. It had been a mild winter, and the town had a very good crop of snowbirds for the season. The spring showed signs of having equally nice and pleasant weather, and the local businesses seemed to perk up just a little bit. The local software company was now growing by leaps and bounds, and Alice even received a small grant from a private foundation to help keep the local paper afloat for yet another few months.

Once again, I began to fall back into my regular routine of weekly life, but thoughts of Wendy and Victor were still with me constantly.

**********

One day I returned home late one evening to find a small box from Wendy sitting on my doorstep. Inside there was a short letter on top and the contents were twenty VHS home recording tapes labeled #1 to #20. I didn't have a good feeling about this at all and her note confirmed it.

"Dearest Claude,

It would do absolutely no good whatsoever to apologize now for things that happened between us those many years ago. However, I do wish now to apologize specifically for not treating your concerns and worries on that last plane flight with the seriousness that I should have. I was very wrong indeed to belittle your quite valid concerns, but frankly, as we both observed in the end, no warning would have been sufficient enough to have prevented or even delayed what occurred.

You were right, we never should have gone in the first place - that would have at least delayed our fate and given us a little more time together.

While we both seem to clearly understand the reason behind some of the increasing 'extreme actions' I have found myself engaged in these recent years, and while you suggest that this is just 'water under the bridge' to you, I would prefer that you get a closer and hopefully better understanding about the exact nature of the water. I doubt you can.

I have selected these few tapes (less than 1% of your brother's exhaustive library) to provide a few specific examples of the vast sewer your loved one has waded and even willingly swam into. I assure you, these are not even remotely the most extreme items in his vast collection starring me as it featured performer. Watch these please in sequence, as they are more or less chronological, and I'm certain your observant eye can distinguish certain facts that will help you more easily make your future decisions...

There is another note inside Tape #20's case, but do not read it until you have finished with #1 through #19 first, please.

This seems cruel, but like your warning on the plane to me, this is now my warning to you - please treat it with the respect that I should have given yours."

Love, Wendy"

I had been afraid of this and she had hinted something about his video collection after the funeral. Before we could even attempt to pick back up where we had left off, she wanted me to know - really know, just what life with my insane mind-controlling brother had been like, and just what he had forced her to do... and even enjoy.

I had been prepared to 'forgive her' - for everything. Could I still do it after seeing exactly what I had intended to forgive her for doing?

I put in Tape #1, and it was a plain boring amateur film of my brother fucking Wendy, not particularly well in my opinion. His only concern seemed to be exactly how fast he could cum himself. Wendy was young, just as I last remembered her from college. Her actions seemed nearly robotic as she eagerly did everything that Dragos asked of her. No problem - it was just about what I had expected.

Tapes #2 & #3 were a bit more interesting visually to watch as Dragos sought to expand all of Wendy's boundaries and she willingly participated in threesomes with another woman (Dragos's pool friend Annabelle?) and one of Dragos male bully boy friends. Again, about what I had expected.

Tapes #4-10 continued exploring those themes, and more... with Wendy always in a very submissive role being bound, spanked or whipped and used by multiple partners. This was disturbing to watch, but I hadn't seen anything that I hadn't already imagined being done to her while I was by myself in the dead of night alone in bed.

Tapes #11-15 seemed on the surface to be much like the previous set, albeit with more kinks and fetishes included, but I soon noticed a few subtle differences. Wendy seemed to be more or less 'herself' and less 'controlled' in these scenes. Dragos was also almost never an active participant himself and from the sound on the tapes he seemed to be the main cameraman and was constantly looking for better angles to film his wife's debauchery. Wendy's later performances, if anything, resembled a tired porn star or whore that was just going through the motions, and she seemed to be relieved when everything was over at the end of each video. There may have been a few genuine smiles at a few pleasurable erotic moments with her partners (especially with a particular one lady who was in many of the group scenes with Wendy), but there was little 'love' for what she was doing expressed. I began to feel better about seeing the last few tapes.

Tapes #16-19 were mostly from a new venue and not filmed in their bedroom or some hotel room. These seemed to feature heavy group activity in a professional or private sex club of some sort. The camera work was of professional quality and very high detail. There was no mistaking that Wendy now loved nearly every moment of her sexual antics and she was a very willing and enthusiastic partner for nearly every sex act imaginable. Dragos was nearly nowhere to be found in the action and he mostly appeared to play the role of the voyeur while in the club. The few scenes I saw of him he was invariably drunk, very overweight and looking pallid and unhealthy in general. He appeared to have great trouble getting or maintaining an erection, and if he could perform he'd blow his load in just three or four strokes. Undoubtedly he had little or no will left to use his powers to control his wife, or probably anyone for that matter.

I had to stop with this tape as I was so disturbed. Wendy, now apparently mostly or totally free from Dragos' control, seemingly now loved every bit of sexual excess that she could obtain. She delighted in double and triple penetrations and pulling train, where as soon as one partner completed their ejaculation into her she would call for another to take his place. Wendy was also now starting to accumulate a complete collection of erotic body piercings and now displayed a distinctive colorful 'tramp stamp' on her lower back. I didn't think that this new version of 'Wendy' could ever again be satisfied with just a single lover, such as me.

The note taped to the top of the final tape #20 just said, "Watch this tape non-stop, repeatedly, until you either have to throw it away into the trash and burn it, or else you can masturbate to it. Then call me and let me know what your decision is.

Tape #20 was an especially long tape that was nearly three and a half hours long that featured one long orgy with Wendy being multiple penetrated and fucked by over 100 different men and women. She never looked happier, and her only cries were for "More!" There was only one very short scene showing Dragos sitting in a chair next to where she was being gang-banged scowling in obvious displeasure, naturally being drunk and abusive in the process. It was apparent that he was now a pathetic fat fool that was obviously the butt of many of the club's jokes as each member would mount and use his wife in turn, to her ecstatic pleasure.

I sat on my front porch holding this tape in my lap for at least an hour after I viewed it, just inches from the trash can. I saw no way that I could possibly 'forgive' this. She didn't want me anyhow, anymore, I reasoned. Undoubtedly now that she had the family wealth and fortune, she could afford to remain at her Club, with all of her gentleman and lady admirers. She didn't need or really want me.

*********

I had nearly made the decision to throw the tape away when Father Al came along and sat on my front steps with me. I could see what was going to happen next all the way down Highway 59, with its bright lights on.

"I can't do it." I told him. "I just don't see how I can accept it and sleep next to her every night for the rest of our lives."

"I never said you would want to make this decision, that's why I said it was going to be very unpleasant. But still the same, you must forgive her, and at least hear what she has to say in her own defense. If she didn't think that she still wanted you after over fifteen years, she would never have bared herself completely to you, leaving no defenses. She knows she is at your utter mercy now, and has much to answer for. Will you at least give her the same respect and let her complete her confession to you? These tapes are the act of a woman who loves you, but knows she cannot start back in the past where you left her."

"She was right..." I muttered. "There has been too much water under the water. I just can't accept that even after he lost his control over her, she remained with him and did as he ordered her to do!"

"You must accept this, and see instead if an entirely new relationship can be built from where you both stand today as adults, and not kids still in college. You can make the honest and right decision now, or you can look back instead to all the events of your terrible past and make new, equally bad mistakes that will haunt you then forever. The choice is yours."

With that the good Father left me. As always, he was right, and I knew what I had to do.

Tape #20 stayed on auto-play for the next six weeks and was my constant companion until one fine summers day I could actually see past the technical acts of penetration and see the sheer happiness in her face, and as more and more men climaxed inside of her orifices I unwillingly found myself wishing that I was there as a participant and it was my semen that she was so lovingly swallowing while begging for more. I had my masturbatory orgasm at long last, but I still waited another week to give Wendy a call at her parent's home near St. Louis.

"Wendy, I still love you, when can I see you so we can talk?"

"Silly, I've been packed for weeks waiting for your call, I will be there to see you the day after tomorrow!" She said - and she was.

***********

The next Tuesday evening, Wendy showed up at the newspaper office while we were trying to put what would probably be our final edition to bed. The printer shop across the Towne Centre finally had a terminal breakdown to their photo-engraving machine (also very obsolete), thus we could no longer print pictures or even add new advertisements easily. Alice seemed ready to throw in the towel.

Wendy's arrival changed all of that. She had seen a photo that a private investigator had taken of the inside of our newspaper office but still couldn't believe that we were still making this antique run. No matter.

"The new computers and printers are supposed to be here by this weekend!" She cheerful announced to all after we had embraced and introductions had been made. The Lovett Starry-Beacon was finally going hi-tech and was getting a complete suite of commercial desktop publishing tools and hardware. It was going to cost a fortune though, but as it was all Wendy's money, I didn't care to complain, and it was probably the first good use any of my family fortune had ever been put to. Alice sold the newspaper to Wendy for a token payment of one dollar, but she still stayed with us as our editor-in-chief.

Wendy didn't think much of my old two-room shack, and pointedly mentioned that a growing boy and a 'still fairly young bride very much within her childbearing years' were both going to need some growing room. She had an eye on a suitable house in a nice row of large old semi-Victorian houses just south of Towne Centre, and she wasted little time and was a very motivated buyer indeed. We made Victor a comfortable bed on my tired worn out sofa and promised him something better 'soon'. Before we knew it and without any other preamble, Wendy and I found ourselves in bed together.

Our lovemaking that first night was very gentle and slow, almost like both of us were examining the boundaries of each other, like a gentle test lap of a racecar the day before the big race. It was comfortable, like we were still sleeping with each other years ago back in the dorm at college, and more importantly when I was with her and holding her, I didn't feel the ghosts of the hundreds (or thousands) of men and women who had held her since I last had.

"So," I joked with her while we were snuggled up together, "are you ready for me to make an honest 'one-man' woman out of you yet?"

She wanted that very much, but knew that her past had some very large shadows and she admitted that she had 'certain fondnesses' and sexual desires now that would be very difficult to satisfy within the bounds of a strictly monogamous relationship. She admitted it would be hard, but she would devote all of her effort to making our relationship work, and we would just take things slowly one day at a time, for as long as it took.

I did have one other really burning question to ask. "If Dragos kept gradually losing his power, from drinking, mental weakness or whatever, why did you stay with him as long as you did, especially once you got some sort of control back over your life? That was the hardest thing for me to forgive, that you didn't run away the very first moment that you could!"

"It wasn't quite as simple as that for several reasons." She replied thinking deeply. "First, his control was always very iffy, but if he could concentrate, he could lay down some firm short time instructions that I had no choice but to obey and follow. Especially in those early two years before we were married. I think I had become his absolutely favorite plaything, and just my being around him gave him pleasure at the way he had stolen me from you, and then framed you into a life in prison. When that thrill wore off after the wedding, I began to have more 'independence' but what could I really do? You were now in jail for life, where could I run? Home? He'd find me there too, and maybe cause dreadful things to happen to my parents, or other people I loved. I couldn't take the chance."

"There must have been something that you could have done?" I insisted.

"Murdering him? I certainly considered it, but I think I had been programmed by him not to be able to. I couldn't even hold a knife in my hand and think thoughts of killing him, without my hand going limp and I'd drop the knife every time. Then there was your father. Believe it or not, after your mother died, he and I became quite close (but not in that way!). We would talk together many late evenings if we knew Dragos was safely out of the house. He had made a great many mistakes in his life and he admitted most of them before he died. He was too concerned with money, influence and power and he allowed himself to be seduced by your Aunt's vision of your brother becoming even greater and achieving far higher political office. It would be start of another great American political dynasty, just like the Kennedy's, they had believed, but something never did seem quite right. Even Aunt herself realized not long after our wedding that she had made a tragic miscalculation and that Dragos was not the 'Chosen One', or whatever she had expecting. Father wrote you a very long letter just before he died, but Dragos found it and burned it. He wanted just a little of your forgiveness and he hoped that you and I would be together sometime in the future. With me gone from the house, there would have been no one who could protect your father. Without my presence, I'm certain he would have died a few years earlier than he did, and perhaps not of natural causes. Once you got out from prison and 'disappeared', he knew that something would soon happen, and Dragos days would be numbered."

"So, if Dragos was a mess, and mostly now impotent, who was the father of your child?"

"Yes, your brother was the father. I know exactly the weekend he was conceived, as I was tied up unable to move all weekend or take my birth control pills, while he repeatedly drunkenly raped me. Also Dragos later had a DNA test done on him, to make certain that Victor was his heir. With the birth of my son, I had another potential victim that had to be protected. Fortunately, once Victor was proven to be his, he did dote upon him. This also made it harder to grab him and run, as now he had even further reasons to want to recover me."

I had to admit that this explaination made a great deal of sense. A mother's first responsibility is to protect her child, and there at my old family home, with her hated husband becoming ever more enfeebled, there was little reason to rock the boat, so to speak, and awaken a sleeping but vicious beast.

"Then you got your sudden release from prison," she added, "with all of your charges dropped and your name cleared. This caught Dragos completely by surprise and it drove him nearly insane while he tried to find you and 'finish you off for good'. He was convinced you would soon appear and gun him down, and no matter how much money he spent he could never find a trace of you - even after he had your ex-cellmate tortured and killed, while trying to find a clue as to where you had gone. This successful escape made him even more paranoid and unstable. He drank all of the time after that and sometimes did other drugs to alter his moods. His mental control was now 'iffy' and light at best, but he was still a large, angry, and unstable man with all of the normal tools of violence that could be used to keep a woman and a small baby in line."

Dragos was certainly not beyond using pure single physical violence. Like many other battered women, she felt it was safer to remain in the abusive relationship. If she had run, he really would have very likely killed her, or done something nearly equally terrible in response. In this instance, her waiting paid off.

"In the end, I accepted your father's advice and to wait and see." She continued. "You could appear, or our own investigators could find you... and we did a lot searching that Dragos never knew about. I was fairly certain you were somewhere in Texas and would somehow be working for a newspaper, but probably a very small rural one - well out of sight and mind. In the end, we had agents gather up nearly seven hundred small regional papers and we began a very slow process of elimination. In the end, I identified a blurry photo of you taken through the newspaper window only about a month before Dragos death and before I could establish a plan.

"Finally, for my final excuse to you, there was the not insignificant matter of my membership at an elite international sex club for millionaires that I will just call "The Club." It has other names, and different branches everywhere where there is money and power, but all you need to know about it is that I spent a good deal of time there, and in time grew to love and prefer the place to my own home.

Dragos obtained our memberships, and it cost him a lot of money, but he hoped to obtain backing for another run at your father's old congressional seat or to obtain an Ambassadorship, particularly to Romania. I was just another 'means of payment'; with the tattoo above my ass, I was marked as being a slut, and common property of the club, and used, often and repeatedly, by all of its members and special guests. Dragos, never achieved a single one of his political goals - everyone hated him far too much. The Club did however enjoy fucking me, so they strung him along, dangling little carrots before him that would never materialize. After a few years, Dragos came to hate The Club, as he finally saw they had essentially cuckolded him, but he was now powerless to stop anything."




Wendy, My Brother's Wife Ch. 03



"You did seem to be enjoying yourself." I muttered, taking in turn and kissing each of her pierced nipples.

"I was! Frankly, the unhappier I saw him become, the more I began to enjoy the sex. You've watched those last few tapes - I was loving every second of the fun usually, mostly now because it make my husband furious to be made to watch me perform, when he usually could not! I even developed an emergency plan where if I needed to run away in an emergency there was a woman lover with political power and enough wealth to probably be able to protect me. Her name was Paula, and she was a hot young naturally slutty thing, and she'd hit a sort of Anna Nichol Smith style jackpot herself when she married a septuagenarian Wall Street brokerage firm partner who already had one foot in the grave but wanted to die in the saddle a happy man. He made her enact every one of his filthy fantasies at The Club, among other places. I think she did love him a little, but she certainly loved his three hundred million he willed her when he died recently even more. She and I were often lesbian partners at the club, and you probably saw many scenes of us eating each other's cunts in the last 4-5 videos. I think for the last five years of my life while I was 'waiting' she was my closest and best friend."

"Do I regret the sex at The Club?" She whispered, as she slid down in our bed to stroke and kiss my cock back into life. "No, never. It served to fill the very large hole in my heart and made me feel, even for just a short time, "wanted and loved. When Dragos drunkenly piled his Jaguar into the tree, I became free at last! Now I could contact you and shut the door on my entire sordid life on the upper east coast. I hope there was nothing you wanted saved of the family empire, because I've cashed it all out. I'm a very fucking rich widow, and I'm just in the mood to shop for the right sort of 'boy toy'. Fortunately, I find the smell of printers ink extremely erotic!"

Well that started round 2, which lasted a very long while indeed. I did find out later who had bought all of those far northern Maine woods where I spent my teenaged summers. Knowing Wendy's taste for environmentalism in the past, it was no surprise that she had sold them off for a considerable sum less than she could have gotten, but chose a very 'eco friendly' forestry management company that would ensure the forests remained a safe and wildlife rich habitat for at least another generation or more. Dracos had sold many of the other family businesses to fund his expensive playboy lifestyle and repeated failed attempts at winning public office, but the leftovers when sold did amount to a very tidy sum that was more than enough for our future needs.   

**********

I wasn't at all in the mood to work that Wednesday morning. The paper was on official 'hiatus' until the new modern computerized publishing equipment arrived (and we learned how to use it). I decided I could also fairly safely give up my day trucking job now since my new sugar momma most definitely wanted me home every night. We had a late breakfast and decided to get the house hunting part over with. In the end, there were two old Victorians (with a heavy Gothic twist), that were both on the market this week and they each seemed quite alright for the needs of a hopefully growing family. There was a blue one that seemed in a bit better condition and a green one that definitely needed some TLC, but I thought it had more long-term potential. The decision was made for us while we were sitting in the small Towne Centre park, the three of us eating ice cream we had gotten from a street vendor, when there was a loud girlish shriek of delight and a very tiny atomic bomb by the name of Lucy exploded out the door of her grandmother's Quilt and Fabric Shop and practically mugged a surprised Victor with her hugs and kisses.

"Vic, my best friend! At last you have come, and I've been missing you so! We're going to be the very closest of friends and now we'll always be together now, isn't that right Grandma?" The girl's grandmother Sarah, just nodded her head and I knew much better than to argue.

As the song goes, you don't tug on Superman's cape, spit into the wind, or pull the mask off of the Lone Ranger, and if little eight year old Lucy says that something will happen - it will. Trust me.

I had not mentioned any of this to Wendy, and I thought now would be a really good time for some sort of explanation. Compared to 'my evil brother has a magic mind control ring', I thought this conversation would be a cinch, but it wasn't and I couldn't get my mouth open in time. My moment passed, and Lucy turned her glaze upon Wendy. Thank goodness the fates were relatively gentle upon her... you never know what Lucy is going to say... God, or the gods or goddesses have granted her a ten million candle-watt searchlight into all that is unknown, and never gave the poor girl an off-switch for it.

"Mother Wendy, I want to thank you so much for bringing my friend down here to live from the northeast. We are going to have lots of adventures together when we get older! His daddy really was a very bad man and I think poor Victor's life has been very sad, but we're together now and soon I'll make him smile, plus he has a new daddy now - and he's a much nicer one. I like him and he'll soon be just like another daddy to me too."

Phew, ok... mostly harmless, I thought, and then saw Lucy's spotlight into the future lock onto something... oh... shit, I could see this one coming...

"Victor's Ring, you do have his ring don't you? Oh, yes - it's in your purse. You need to guard and protect it, Vic's is going to need it someday, and he and I are going to have to have it to do some things that must be done, so you have to keep it very secret and hidden. Some bad people know about it already and want it, but they don't know where it is yet, but they will try to find it and never stop, so you have to keep it safe for him for awhile longer. They will want all of the rings, all of the Magii ones, the ones they don't already control, but this town will keep them all safe. Oh, and don't buy that icky blue house, the gas line isn't at all safe and there might be a fire! Also the view is much nicer from the green house, alright Wendy Mommie?" With that Lucy gave Wendy a hug and grabbed Victor's hand to lead her over to meet 'Lorrie Mommie' and Grandma Sarah and the rest of what would be part of her new extended family.

Wendy had dropped the rest of her ice cream uneaten onto the pavement and was in quite a bit of shock and needed to sit awhile while I arranged things with Sarah. Certainly, she was very willing to watch Victor today for us, and we privately agreed that if Lucy had said that they would be best friends, then that meant they would be utterly inseparable and we would have to work out a schedule to 'share the children' after we got moved into the new house.

Very definitely the green one, then. It didn't surprise me one little bit when the blue house we didn't buy caught on fire one night about a month later and while the damage was repairable, anyone inside the still vacant house could have been in dire peril from the smoke.

Wendy needed a drink. Badly. So did I for that matter, as I still needed to explain the unexplainable, so we headed out to the happiest bar I knew, Phil's Cantina and Ice House, where the beers and frozen margaritas were always cold and the beach red hot with action. After the shock Wendy had received, even the sight of a couple of dozen naked young men and women frolicking along the shore didn't start to perk her up until after her third strawberry margarita. By then we had another guest also at out table, Father Al.

He joined us for a round of drinks and then suggested we take a long private walk down the shore a ways. The subject was also the ring. He asked to see it and Wendy handed it to him without even blinking an eye. He looked it over and handed it right back and told her to keep it where no one would ever find it 'until Victor was of age'. That summed it all up in my mind fairly nicely.

Wendy explained to me that Aunt had taken it from Dragos's body shortly before burial and had handed it to her right before she left on a plane back to Romania.

"It was for Victor!" She said, over and over. "He will be the one! Tanti has made bad mistakes, but Victor will fix everything right!" It was undoubtedly the longest conversation my Aunt had ever had in English.

I certainly hadn't wanted the ring for myself, and I would have just thrown it into a drawer (or even the ocean) and forgotten about it, left to my own devices. Obviously this would not be nearly safe and secure enough. If Lucy and Father Al both said something, there were no grounds at all for laxness, and we decided upon a perfect hiding place for it that should last until Victor's sixteenth birthday in about eight more years.

"Why is such an evil thing necessary to make? And why was it tied to us?" Wendy really wanted to know, nearly in tears, as she took the ring back from Father Al.

"A car and a steak knife do not leave their factories either good or evil, and both can be put to evil uses for many a long year, but equally serve good causes thereafter. The Majii rings are just things and while they have power, and everyone knows power can corrupt, they had no personal leanings to it. Your ring cannot think or feel - it can only act. Let us teach Victor well, that if/when he commands this ring to once again act, that it is done to preserve or protect those people and things he loves. Why you? Who could be possibly better to teach a very smart and soon to become very powerful young lad about what evils and wrongs this ring could be made to do in evil hands. You have both been terrible victims of it, but you did not seek revenge, only justice. I can think of no finer example for your son... or should I now say your son and your new semi-adopted daughter!" He said with a wink.

Father Al left us there alone on the beach and we stayed looking at the ring in our hands alone until the last sunlight rays of that early fall disappeared, and we vowed together that we would guard and protect the ring, our son and daughter and each other, the very best we could. We were once again apparently playing for time. We needed time to rebuild our love stronger, and meld our lives together and hopefully give Lucy and Victor enough love and direction that when their time of danger came they could just possibly be prepared for it, even just a teensie-weensie bit.

"May you live in interesting times!" I said to Wendy, repeating that ancient and true Chinese curse, as we walked arm in arm back to her car at the Cantina. Each of us now was with the one we most loved, and I thought just maybe this would be enough to see us through to the end. It was only much later that the idea of other similar rings being hidden in Lovett began to disturb us, particularly since Father Al's own rather antique looking ring sort of glowed in the afternoon sun when he held ours, which seemed to glow for a moment as well. An odd but perfectly natural sunlight reflection or two other ancient friends saying hello?

"Adventures! Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!" Or so a wise man once wrote, and if we didn't hurry along we would be late for our dinner, but we stopped a few times for extra kisses under the beach lights anyway, before we returned to have dinner with Sarah and our kids.

The End