0 comments/ 6018 views/ 6 favorites The Misbegotten By: talarian This is my first submission here, though this story has been published elsewhere. It is first installment of a long series of erotic stories following the life and times of, Estefan Ernando, who will one day be the solar system's most-feared, master criminal. They have been taken out of their original formats and placed into chronological order. This is a detailed, novel-length story. The sex is there, explicit and detailed, but so is the raw emotion, the characterization and the romance. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. * ~ Chapter 1 ~ (Fall -- 1988 thru Summer - 2018) Scourge I can't sleep. I have too much on my mind. I don't even know why I'm typing my thoughts. Isn't there anything else I could be doing? Though, the love of her arms and the warmth of her body usually eases my mind and lulls my body to rest, sleep isn't finding me this night. The constant vibration of the 'Unit's ultra-quiet mechanisms have nothing to do with it. Neither does the newness of my surroundings. I am restless. My thoughts continue to wonder -- subject after subject. My mind will not stop. I can't find solace in anything. I can't stop worrying. I keep seeing my wives and my family, and I can't shake the fear of losing them. This fucking Shadow Spark business has wound my ass up tighter than a first year felon locked in a maximum security prison. We haven't faced anything like this in recent memory. I keep wondering if we're up to the task. It is true, we have the tech and the training, and of course, the years and years of wisdom. Still, it has been so long. Are we ready? I'm not certain even I am after my ridiculous tirade yesterday. I have always been capable of controlling my emotions -- always! My long dead uncles taught me how to master myself centuries ago. I know better than that. It was foolish. It was reckless. I can't explain what came over me. I never knew my memories were still so raw, so unexpressed. It has been such a long time. And yet, I find myself asking, why do I miss them so much? Why does it still hurt? Why am I still mourning their deaths? Maybe my one-time, step-sister, Flavia is right. Maybe I should explore the sick thoughts in the corrupted gray matter in my head. Maybe... I should use the Delving program. The idea of beginning a journal and recording my sordid past seems like the thing to do, but will it work? Will it matter? How is sifting through the past going to stop anything from happening to my wives? Why am I so afraid...? ***** It has been the better part of an hour and, still, I can't sleep. I'm using the program now, but only on its shallowest setting. I need to explain some things first. A deep Delve makes true narration impossible. I need to be able to speak with the full capacity of my mind, so I can build the scene, the setting, the feel of the twenty-first century. None of you, have known it like I have, you need the background, some detail and a rather large dose of history. I'm not talking about the bullshit you read on your holo-screens or from storage decks. You need the real McCoy -- the smells, the tastes and raw emotion from the time of my birth. Later, I will dive deeper, but for now... I will narrate. As I have already stated, I'm uncertain, by writing this down, I will see any real benefit come out of putting memory to word. I do believe though, as Flavia has mentioned, I have nothing to lose. Because of this, I have come to the decision, it couldn't hurt. She has convinced me of that at least. Maybe on some basic level, this will help me understand some metaphysical part of myself, which, in turn, will help me comprehend some of the import in the present. Though it sounds like hocus pocus to a man such as me, am I not the fucking Keeper of the Peace or what? Why are you stalling? Ok, ok... well, here it goes. Let me say this before I go any farther with this project, before you attempt to make heads or heels of what I am trying to write. I must confess. I have never done anything of this nature before. I'm not one to sit still, in one place, and jot down thought after thought. I am not a writer. I do not want to be a writer. I have never had dreams of one day putting ink to the quill and letting the world know of the wondrous things within my brain. This is due, for the most part, what goes on in my head isn't typically very nice. I'm almost always enraptured in one quest or another, eagerly trying to figure out who will be in my bed next. Flavia was right, you know. I am always in the mood. Now, I see where some of you may be as perverse as me and, therefore, interested in such pornographic musings. Nonetheless, I'm sure a majority of you wouldn't like to peruse such topics in detail. So, there you have it. I'm not a writer, and yet I am writing, because I can't shake the notion what my wife has told me a few hours ago. Apparently, this is something I must do, even though the very idea of resurrecting the old me makes me want to puke. But, I don't like sitting and doing nothing. I never have. I have been restless ever since the summer of 2018, though I know the reason why. I don't like to think on it overly long, because makes me angry. I tend to hurt things when I'm angry. Being a Heavy isn't always roses and freshly washed pussy. As you might have ascertained by now, I'm not a role model or even a particularly good person at that. I've done so many bad things over the course of my long life. I don't have the time to numerate them here. You'd be bored to death and throw this tomb aside in frustration. Let it be sufficed to say, I am crass, uncouth, and insatiable, and I'm not -- in the least -- a nice guy. What can I say? I am loathed. I am depraved. So, if you are squeamish or covetous of your religious beliefs or easily offended, I beseech you -- STOP HERE! You will not be pleased or enlightened by what I'm about to put to pen (or Neuro-Nanoswarm, whatever you prefer). The things you will read, though based in the solid foundation of truth, will offend, since I have no intention of sugar-coating any aspect of my past. Lying or glossing over events would defeat the purpose of this mental exercise. Therefore, you will be forced to consider such subjects as teen sex, teen drug-use, incest, addiction, group sex, murder, rape, child abuse, genocide, prostitution, molestation and countless other horrid conditions of the human existence. I have lived through them all. I have experienced more than a few and held others under similar yokes. Many of them, I have made my slaves. You will not be pleased... ...Yet, if you have heart and the bravery necessary to broche these topics, then I say to you, reader of my story, continue and learn what has gone before, during the lifetime of Estefan Ernando. He is me, a one-time, careless, rich kid with too much time on his hands, too much money in his pocket and too many little girls vying for a swing on his jock. ***** Much has happened since the heady days of my youth, a whole barrage of historical events many of you may not recall in detail, because history is typically written by the victors or, at least, the ones who have the most to gain by hiding as much of the truth of it as possible. Since I am of neither group, I will give you the benefit of reality, though I'm not going to sit here and lecture this point or that like some university professor. Rather, I'm going to give you a list of highlights, detailing the most important events occurring from the very first days of my birth until the summer of 2018 when the shit hit the fan and, it seemed, the entire world tipped on its' ear. Below is a brief historical timeline of the correct past. Don't be too alarmed by what you might learn. You should recall knowledge is power. What I'm about to give you can free you of the shackles of your past; because they aren't real... they are manufactured. ***** The Historical Definition of the Shadow Seed •Nov. 1998 -- Amateur Australian Astronomer, Frank B. Zoltowski, creates a computer program that can guide electronically controlled telescopes automatically, making it much easier to track celestial objects in the sky. He calls it CCDTRACK. •Dec. 1998 -- A side benefit of CCDTRAK discovered -- Astronomers unveil that the software program can track the movement of a given body and with time eventually plot the objects trajectory. •January 13th, 1999 -- Using the Linear Telescope Survey and CCDTRACK Software, Mr. Zoltowski discovers that asteroid 1999AN10 has a 1:40,000 chance of striking the earth on August 7th, 2027. Later calculations push the change much higher, but the world's interest is peeked as the search for other rogue celestial doubles, funding of such projects quadruples. •Oct. 2001 -- The LTS (Linear Telescope Survey) discovers Comet2001ct2 and CCDTRACK determines that the huge ball of ice will pass earth within the orbits of the GPS Constellation on July 17th, 2015. •Dec. 2007 -- NASA, using improved tracking software, is able to recalculate that Comet2011ct2 will not pass by earth; rather it will strike earth over the Pacific Ocean on October 29th, 2014. This news is not shared with the public and the entire project is militarized. •Sept. 2008 -- Feb. 2009 -- The government of the United States of America deliberately sabotages its own economy, issuing two enormous "stimulus" packages to counter the so-called economic crisis, effectively covering up a massive space-based mobilization. •June 2011 -- NASA shuts its own publically acclaimed Space Shuttle Program, while it secretly initiates Operation Global Shield with new Spacecraft, using multiple forms of propulsion. The age of the Solid rocket booster comes to an end. •August 2011 -- Russia deliberately crashed its own resupply jet carrying provisions for the International Space Station and halts all publically acknowledged space activity, formally entering into Operation Global Shield along with China, Japan, India, the European Union and the United States of America. The International Space Station is abandoned the following month. •March 2nd, 2012 -- Amateur Astronomer, Jessie Montgomery of Montana, spots Comete2001ct2 and reports his findings to college professor. Word explodes around the world that the comet is on a collision course with earth and with hit in the summer of 2014. •Apr. 2012 -- The United States withdraws from Iraq and Afghanistan within a week, leaving chaos in its wake. •Summer 2012 -- Civil war breaks out in seventeen African countries. •July 2012 -- Iran invades Iraq and takes control of the country within two months and unites both countries under one flag and calls itself the Islamic Confederation and vows to destroy Israel. •Oct. 2012 -- Brazil goes public when it is denied inclusion into Operation Global Shield. •Nov. 2012 -- Mexicans overwhelm U.S. Border Patrol all along the border as nearly four million illegal's cross into the U.S. •Dec. 2012 -- Feb. 2013 -- The Islamic Confederation invades a war torn and weakened Syria and obliterates all democratic resistance. The world does nothing more than slap the newly formed country with sanctions. All eyes are still looking skyward. •Mar. 2013 -- In North Korea, famine spreads across the entire country as China stops sending oil and other aid. •Mar. 2013 -- Israel vows unilateral action (nuclear weapons not ruled out) if the Islamic Confederation does not withdraw from Syria by June 1st, 2013. •Apr. 2013 -- Members of the Global Shield sign formal treaties of peace and economic unity as they from the Northern Intercontinental Alliance, incorporating NATO and the militaries of India, China and Russia as its military wing and declare that any further aggression by any foreign power against any sovereign nation will result in invasion by the NIA. •May 2013 -- The Islamic Confederation begins troop build-up along its border with Jordan. Israel reiterates its unilateral position, while the NIA mandates that retaliation with be swift and thorough. •June 2013 -- The Islamic Confederation does not withdraw from Syria, but does pull back its troops and says it will no longer be an aggressor, but will be open to any nation of Islam that wishes to come under its protection. NIA places Peacekeepers in Jordan at the request of UN. •Sept. 2013 -- At a joint British Petroleum and Exxon Mobile press conference, the companies unveil a deep drilling research operation project that has discovered a new element, what they term Diatainium. It lies at the edge of the earth's crust very near the Mohorovičić Discontinuity (or simply called, the MOHO), which comprises the uppermost reaches of the Mantle and lies at an average depth of 7 km (4.3 miles) beneath the ocean floors, and 30 to 75 km (18 to 46 miles) beneath the continental surfaces. They have determined that Diatainium can be smelted into a super-strong, radiation resistant metal and be used as an energy source as well. When its atoms are smashed together at ultra-high speed, they produce a huge amount of energy at nearly 0.1 of a kWt per atom. This has given the NIA an unlimited power source. •Oct. 2013 -- OPEC dissolves. •Nov. 2013 -- NIA announces that it had made a super-high yield Diatainium infused Fission Bomb that it will use to destroy Comtet2001ct2. •Feb. 2014 -- Saudi Arabia seeks entrance into the Islamic Confederation, which causes a windfall and within months Qatar, Oman, Kuwait and Dubai follow suit. •Apr. 2014 -- North Korea, pushed to the brink, asks South Korea for a formal ceasefire and truce, coupled with a new Free Trade Agreement. •May 2014 -- Jordan and Afghanistan seek entry into the Islamic Confederation. •June 2014 -- Israel granted entry into the NIA. •July 15th, 2014 -- The NIA's stockpile of Diatainium Fission Bombs successfully explodes Comet2001ct2, which falls to earth in a shower of a million, million microscopic fragments. (In Later Days, this event is termed: The Shadow Seed) •Aug. 2014 -- With the threat of the Comet gone the NIA solidifies into a more permanent organization by unifying economic ties between North America, Europe, Asia and Indo/Australia, designating them its four regional zones. •Oct. 2014 -- The United Korean Peoples Republic emerges from the ashes of war and famine and immediately seeks aid form the NIA and gets it. •Nov. 2015 - A new, heretofore unknown disease begins to surface in just about every corner of the world. •Dec. 2015 -- By the end of the year chaos rages across Africa once again as civil and regional wars erupt in Indochina. •June 2017 - The NIA revamps its charter to include an overarching paramilitary component with unlimited jurisdiction within the borders of its chartered members. China, India and Australia object to the draconian change, and drop from full membership to that of associated members with strong economic ties. The true Northern Intercontinental Alliance if formulated, which includes the U.S., Canada, Mexico, Britain, Japan, Israel, the Nations of the old European Union and Russia. It designates its' world-wide capital at Houston, Texas and with regional capitals in Moscow, Paris and Tokyo. The NIA gives favored nation status to its former members -- China, India and Australia to keep trade strong. The NIA then declares war against this new disease, combines the CDC with all of its member nation's medicinal assets. The World Health Organization is crippled by a 72% drop in funding. •Since June 2017 -- The Disease continues to grow, unabated, but it's what it leaves in its wake that begins to change the world... The NIA, desperate to get an upper hand, begins to resort to ever more drastic measures to eradicate it form the face of the earth. ***** Now, with your history lesson over, you can begin to understand the setting within which I, and a few of my closest friends, lived in the summer of 2018. But, if you really wanted to know where this story truly begins, I will have to begin in the proper place. I will have to begin many years earlier... and not with myself. It began with a girl. She was rambunctious little rebel, who, from the very first day I met her, stole my heart. I think it was because she loved to get into trouble. Boy, did she ever, it was like a hobby to her. She excelled at it. Yes! If you want to know the true beginning of this story, then I will have to tell you the story of her - Katie Lorraine Chaz... the first love of my life. ***** [His fingers dip to touch the Intrusion Dial. He finds himself sinking deeper into his own mind. The software is amazing. Fuzzy reflections solidify, become tangible. He is ready. His fingers fly, the words are formed.] Katie Lorraine Chaz, from the moment she hit puberty and her breasts began bud into something more than just tiny bumps on her flat chest... well, she became something of a wild child. That was sort of expected, though. Even at an early age, she was promiscuous and talked dirty all the time. Every other thing she said was "eat my pussy this" and "eat my pussy that", way before any of us really knew what it meant to "eat pussy". She had undoubtedly heard it from one of her older siblings, who were, at the time, already in their middle teens. It was well known even to us younger kids that her oldest sister was sexually active. She already had one abortion by the time she was fifteen. So, I guess the blame could be piled on them to some degree. Although, I'm not really sure what Katie was thinking when she said things like that. I was a curious little scamp. I often wondered if she really did want someone between her little, tweenie labia's slurping up the juice. She could say it so dirty sometimes. I remember getting semi-hard every time she uttered such nasty things in her child-like voice. Her eyes were so direct. You see, I was born a pervert. Back then, Katie had light brown, wavy hair, very thin. It always wafted in the play of the wind. She didn't have the synthetic shit she has implanted upon her scalp today, capable of changing color on a whim. She was much more natural in those days... before the hiding and the running... Anyhow, she had wispy hair and a light complexion, harboring good skin. Even through the hormonal ravages of her teen years, she never really developed a whole lot of pimples or blemishes on her face. She was more on the small side when compared to other girls her age, but medium-sized when compared to the females of her family. She was thin and well-proportioned even as a child. As womanhood descended upon her, Katie's hips formed nicely and her butt rounded; she transformed from a girl to something I could barely look away from. Back then, to me, the most desirable feature about her was her breasts. They were perky, a large "b-cup" or a small "c", depending on the designer of the bras and clothes she wore. They were pointed slightly upward and firm. In my eyes, they were perfect, just enough to fill your hand and not waste a single bit of spongy flesh. At least that's how I imagined they would feel like. She had big hazel-colored eyes and a long thin nose that tapered to a point, almost as if she had plastic surgery inside her mother's womb. Her face was more angular than broad, her cheekbones set high on her face, her chin chiseled to a dainty point. She was beautiful, in every way, even with her bad mouth and her surly disposition toward anything that reeked of authority. The Misbegotten Thus, as she aged and her body changed, Katie went from being flirty and foul tongued to experimental and eager. She would try anything and everything new, which of course led her down the road to sex, drugs and unfortunately to grand theft auto. (I'm not referring to that god-awful video game franchise of that bygone era either!) No, this was an action, through a serious of mind boggling events, landed her on my doorstep and later, my ward, in the summer of 2018. This was before the world collapsed around us and we found ourselves fugitives from the very government we believed were sworn to protect us. So fucking naïve! [He dives deeper.] Nonetheless, in order to paint a more precise and exact portrait, I must digress a few more years. I must put aside the colossal forces at work during that summer in '18 and explain from whence Katie Lorraine was sprung. From this explanation, you will begin to understand how and why Katie did things the way she did. Her mother, Giselle Agave - coining the perfect phase of an older generation -- was a knockout. There is no other way to describe the woman, other than to say, she was a stone-cold fox. From the earliest onset of maturing, she attracted men of all ages just about everywhere she went. She was not a particularly smart individual nor did she possess much depth of personality or wit or humor. But, she did understand one thing and it was the only thing she ever needed in life -- she knew she was beautiful. Unlike Katie, her mother, Giselle, was taller and longer of leg. She had black hair with just the hint of a bend to it at the top of her shoulders. She had brown eyes and an aquiline face with smooth pink cheeks and a long sweeping, but very delicate jaw. She had a thin neck leading to a slender, voluptuous frame complete with broad hips and equally impressive breasts. She was a sight to behold indeed. In high school, Giselle, not particularly athletic or physical in any way, played the role of the girly-girl. She dressed nicely, was impeccably groomed at all times, and often she pretended to be afraid of the tiniest little insect or speck of dirt. Sometimes a modest warming in the weather would illicit alarm and in a flash there was an awestruck boy willing to assist her during her moment of distress. Despite their numbers and varying types, she was not a slut. She didn't sleep around, or at least not a lot. Not once did she take on the whole offensive line of the football team or get caught in your friendly game of "Let's Gangbang the Drunk Girl". I heard, although she did have more than a few boyfriends, she never had more than one at any given time. Truth be told, though, she really didn't care about any of them. Her sights were set on a dashing, debonair, suit-wearing, disco-biscuit, named Ricardo Charon. He was that dude. He was the one who knew all of the latest High Energy dance moves and twirled on his feet like a Hispanic, pompadour sporting Fred Astaire. He was a fast talker, sly of wit and always seemed to have an ulterior motive. It was typically concealed at the corner of his eye when he looked at you, as if he were listening; giving the impression he was paying attention. But the topic of conversation never seemed foremost in his mind as if he were thinking of something else, something hidden and private. It was a creepy sort of gaze, if you caught it at the right moment. It made you wonder if he was thinking about you in ways you'd rather not know about. Anyhow, as was normally the case, when Giselle set her mind to something or someone, she almost always got her wish. True to form, she landed Ricardo Charon even though he was two years older than her and used to going out with girls closer to his own age. Now, Ricardo Charon, like Giselle in a way, was really only interested in one thing in life and nothing else - Ricardo Charon. He was tall, considering he came from Mexican stock on both sides of his family. He was nearly five foot, ten inches tall with jet black hair. He had a strong square jaw and piercing amber colored eyes that used to make the cha-cha's¹ swoon. His wide mouth boasted thin lips, very pink. His skin was only a few shades darker than the slightest tanned Caucasian. He was nice to look at, from the female perspective, as one could imagine. But Ricardo wasn't really interested in any one girl, because deep down, he was certain he was destined for much more -- the dazzle and pomp of the Big Screen. Ricardo wanted to make it big in old Hollywood. And he wasted little time pursuing it. It was only a week after he turned eighteen, he filed paperwork, without his parents' knowledge, and had his name officially changed to Ricky Chaz. Within months following graduation from High School, he went to a college for the performing arts to study acting. The only thing he ever cared about. Of course, Giselle was dazzled with thoughts of the glamorous life she would no doubt lead as the off-screen wife of a famous movie star. So much so, she made sure their destinies remained concurrent, and begged Ricardo (now Ricky) to go with her to Grad Night, a plan set firm in the back of her mind. Back then, this Right of Passage for High School Graduates consisted of an overnight visit to Disneyland, which would provide Giselle with the perfect opportunity to keep Ricky in her life, forever. After a lot of pleading and convincing (which most definitely involved a nice, long blowjob and swallow) Ricky relented to Giselle's wiles and said he would accompany her to her last High School event... to his detriment. It was on the bus ride back to school where she made certain her future would be forever tied to Ricky's and vice versa. She had bribed her friends to reserve the backmost seat on the bus. Then, she promptly dragged a very tired and pliant Ricky to it. Once there, she made him sit down. She had sat down next to him, unzipped his fly and quickly got him hard with one of her patented spit-n-palm hand-jobs. Next, she secretly wriggled out of her panties and, with the grace of a gazelle, sat upon the young man's lap. With a gasp of shock, Ricky slipped inside of her. Giselle writhed like a pro. Ricky, not about to let this moment go to waste, got with the program and ground his cock into the teenage girl. It didn't take long and soon he was about to cum. He began to pull out of her, but Giselle would have none of it and squeezed his prick as tightly as she could with her young vaginal walls. Now that she had him, she wasn't about to let him go. Ricky found he couldn't resist such a welcoming tightness, and pumped into her furiously for a few more seconds. With wild abandon, he busted his nut deep into the girl's womb without the regret he should've felt. Giselle, even then, was good enough to make him forget himself. That was just the way she wanted things. Two months later, Giselle told Ricky she was pregnant. Three months after that they were married in a quickie wedding as lavish as Giselle's parents could afford at the time. This was no more than a nice ceremony at the local Catholic Church and huge gathering in their backyard. In the old, faded pictures I have seen, as a child, it looked like a fun day, the entire family was in attendance, old and young faces alike, some of which I haven't seen for a long, long time. Anyhow, they married, lived with Ricky's parents for a few years. Then they bought a house in Pasadena, a bit away from both of their families. As Ricky saw it, no hot-shot actor could associate too close with his ethnic past, right? So, a little distance was prudent, if not necessary. Eventually, Ricky graduated from acting school and spent day after day going to auditions. He landed a few commercial spots, a quaint, but recurring skit at the Egyptian Theatre in Westwood, but not much else. By then, he and Giselle had two children, Ricky Jr. and Caroline. Giselle, as fertile as ever, was already cooking the third in the oven. It was to be yet another girl, who they decided would be named Marissa when she was born. They also had bills and a mortgage, car notes and credit card payments. That was about the time it was becoming quite obvious to Giselle, and maybe even moreso to Ricky, that acting might not be the career to get their family were it needed to be. Ricky grudgingly made a career change. He got into real estate. It would be a field that he would flourish. And why not? Think about it, what better sort of salesman could there be, than one who was trained as an actor? Jesus H. Christ, he had his clients eating out of his palm on the drive over before they laid eyes on a property. None of them stood a fucking chance against the persuasive will of Ricky Chaz. At the same time though, there was a distinctive downside to his newfound success. Real Estate made him feel phony. Over time, from that festering sense of falsity, Ricky began to resent those around him and bleed negativity wherever he went. It got so bad; it wasn't long before he felt like he couldn't do anything without telling a lie or bending the truth. His entire life was a lie. He should've been an actor, not a realtor. It was Giselle who held him back from his dreams, his impending greatest. He began to rot from the inside out. He took to the bottle to cleanse that putridity in the middle of his gut, which inevitably led him down even darker paths. Soon it was cocaine to stave off the effects of the alcohol, then speed to keep up the pace of his rigorous days - and nights... By then, he and Giselle were weekly attendees at special "couples only" parties held around town. Anything was the name of the game now. What had started out as experimentation, an attempt to try new things, to spice up their love lives, had become something else. Every time they did it, they liked it more. The separation was welcomed. Until, it became more enjoyable to watch the other screw a stranger, than it was to do the act together. Their passions altered, twisted, as did their marriage. Only the money and sharing their bodies with others seemed to keep them a couple. For this too, there was a price. It led them down the road to deeper reaches of desolation and destruction, because on so many different levels, they weren't emotionally prepared for the gulf that grew between them. Neither of them was mature enough to know how to handle a sudden lack of conflicting emotions and desires. Feelings they brazenly expressed with others, but struggled to find within their relationship. The spark had died and was eventually forgotten in the midst of their wild, sexual escapades with people they didn't know. Their indifference grew, annoyance became to norm as they hallowed out and turned to nothing more than husks of the people they had once been. They spread malcontent discord to everyone around them. They were like a disease, that annoying outbreak of herpes -- always surfacing at the wrong time, embarrassing, painful. [He rises a few levels.] I know this is a harsh description of people none of you know, but it is the truth, and we should never shy form the truth... besides, they were cancerous. [He dips back down.] Katie Lorraine Chaz was born into this twisted, feral free-for-all. It was the climate she that almost doomed her. Like her older siblings, it affected her on many levels. So many, in fact, it would take forever to point them out here. It's safe to say, she was irrevocably damaged by them. It also didn't help that her father would scream at her when she brought home bad grades, yelling that she would never amount to anything in life. To him, she was stupid and brainless. One of the last things, he had told her, before she had run away and came hurtling back into my life, was she would never amount to nothing more than a cock hungry whore like her mother. One day, he prophesized, she would wake-up to find two dicks up her ass and that act alone, would be the pinnacle of her life's accomplishments. It would be the highlight of her pathetic existence in this world. When she had screamed at him to fuck off, he had slapped her so hard across the face, she had fallen to the ground in a heap. At that point, there was little else to do, but run away and she did. All because she'd come home two hours late that night. It was the beginning of the end between Katie and her parents. They would never again live in the same house. I could see why Katie wanted to get away. I understood why she wanted to lose herself in drugs or in the pleasures of sex. She wanted to hang around people who talked nice to her, even if they were faking it, because, to her, at least they were making an effort. This was more than either of her parents ever had given her. I understood the anguish and self-loathing she sometimes felt, because I had felt something similar with my father as well, but that was a milder tale, not nearly as severe as what Katie had to live through. My father was just a skinny, immature sack of dried up shit, no bones about it. Because of his demeaning diatribes, one could say that, in the very least, I got the gist of some of what Katie had gone through. I understood some of the truth of her life and what it was doing to her. I think that's why I could always read Katie so well. Because of our tiny connection, she was an open book to me most of the time. Anyhow, by the time, Katie jumped into the front seat of that stolen car and got herself into a heap of trouble, she was living in another state. Her family had moved from Pasadena to Glendora a decade earlier. Then, they moved to Corona a couple of years later. After that, it was a move to Temecula, almost five years ago. Ricky believed it was critical to get his family out of the urban sprawl of Los Angeles, a city that was corrupting his children right before his eyes. There was no telling him, he was the root cause of their anguish, because, in his mind, he could do no wrong. Thus, he did what all raging alcoholics would do, the inconceivable, and moved his entire family to Oklahoma City, Ok after only a brief stay in the Inland Empire. Under the guise of a fabricated real estate boom in the city, he yelled to the heavens above, "I will not pass up this opportunity!" He couldn't let it go untapped by his family. There was a fortune to be made! By moving his five, floundering children to a boring, regional town with one-tenth the 'things-to-do", when compared to Los Angeles, the effect was exactly opposite the one he'd envisioned -- it changed them all for the worst. The boys became inverted. Katie's oldest brother, Ricky Jr. had thrown himself into running long distances and hardly ever talked, preferring solitude to the company of his family. Her baby brother James stayed in his room reading comics and books at all hours of the day. He seemed incapable of relating to anything real. Cartoons and drawn characters were all he could fathom. All else was too confusing, too painful to endure. The girls... well, they did whatever the fuck they wanted, and there was none worse than Katie. Caroline, Katie's oldest sister, was the spitting image of her mother, gorgeous, leggy, a man magnet. Unlike her mother, she was conniving and avaricious -- a ball-busting bitch that made sure her men knew she was in charge. This was rumored to extend to the bedroom as well, but I was never certain. Strangely enough, though, Caroline did display a degree of restraint and only dabbled in drugs lightly. Her preferences were the more carnal pleasures than psychedelics. She never went down that road toward inevitable implosion, though, she did enough to hurt herself in other ways. She was self-centered and quite able of forcing herself not give a shit about any of her family members. She had an uncanny ability of tuning them out. She'd flip on MTV or jump on Facebook or listen to her MP3 player and ignore the lot of them. By the time Katie had run away, Caroline had gone through many, many boyfriends, four abortions and was as hard as stone. She was as cold as stone too. Marissa, Katie's sister who was only a year older than her, was a female reflection of her father, light skinned, black hair, thinner, shorter than her two other sisters. She was more docile by nature and tended to talk quietly and slowly, making sure you understood what she was saying. She was an unassuming girl, who got below average grades, liked boys, but not enough to fuck them. She only smoked pot, but even then, she only partook on occasion. What Marissa did do though, was simply stay away. She was more than adept at finding parties to attend or boys to ask her out on a date. She was always at a friend's house, having dinner with, staying overnight. She shunned her own home constantly. She loathed watching her father constantly ridicule her mother, witness, as her mother swallowed every insult. She was sick of seeing her father sopping drunk, sprawled unconscious in the hallway with his fat ass-crack showing over his overworked bikini briefs. She stayed away and quietly longed for the old days before all the money her father was making had messed everything up, before he had mangled her childhood. It was Katie, as you might have guessed, who turned out to be the most self-destructive. It was Katie who stole from her Dad's stash of cocaine. She snatched his uppers, his downers, and his genetically enhanced marijuana. She took just about everything his stupid, drunk ass left out or hadn't bolted down or locked behind a vault. It was Katie who took the most risks. It was Katie who cared the least. It was Katie who had run away... ...And that's what led up to the summer in 2018 when Katie had run from her father's rage and contempt. This was the night she had texted her latest fuck-buddy, a loser dude named Chad Bennings, telling him, she was running away. She had typed her message in typical Katie fashion. If you wanna keep fucking this pussy, you better come and get me! Chad had showed up at the park where all the teenagers hung out, where Katie waited. It was dark by then; the park had been empty for hours. Katie's cheek was still stung from where her father had struck her, after he'd foretold of her dual-butt fucking future, after she had screamed at him to fuck off. It had been almost three in the morning when Chad had asked what was up and Katie replied simply, "Take me away". Wanting to keep his desperate girlfriend happy at the same time, he had done what every able-bodied stoner would do when they don't own a vehicle of their own - he stole one. Yeah, I know fucking brilliant. He had come back with the car, picked her up at the park and said promptly, "Baby, I will take you wherever you want to go, but first we need some supplies." Katie had merely nodded. She wasn't even all that surprised when the above mentioned "supplies" included picking up his cousin Mike, his skanky-looking baby-mama and one of Chad's other friends - a guy Katie only mentioned, but never said his name. Or maybe she had and I just forgot it. Once their posse was fully formed, they had made a pit stop at the very same convenient store Chad had boosted the car a few hours earlier. They bought a shit load of junk food in the process and they were finally on their way. Of course, by now, an APB had been issued for their arrest, because the clerk behind the counter had watched as his car drove away... for a second time that night. It's funny how even a lowly clerk can sometimes have a photographic memory, isn't it? As it was, Katie had told Chad, while they pulled away with the now infamous shit load of junk food; she wanted to go to California, to Los Angeles specifically. She had told the idiot she wanted to see the ocean again. Chad had given her a big kiss and said her wish was his command, and off they went into the starry night. My mother, Patrice, got a call two days later. Apparently, Chad had crashed the car on Interstate 10 just outside of Palm Springs after a California Highway Patrol officer noticed its five passengers fit the ABP and had run the plates of the car. When it had come back a positive match, a short car chase ensued, about fifteen miles long from what the CHP officer had written in his report. Back then that would have been considered an afternoon stroll of a car chase for Southern California. This had been a part of the old United States notorious for high-speed chases, some of which went on for hundreds and hundreds of miles. The Misbegotten Giselle had asked my mother if she could drive to Palm Springs and pick up her daughter for her. My mother had agreed at once. Then Giselle asked my mother - and this always made me wonder -- if she and our family could take care of Katie for a few months until she and Ricky could figure some things out. Now, when I look back at it, I think Katie's actions were the straw that broke the "camel's back" in their marriage. I think they needed time, without Katie distracting them, to figure out how they were going to divide Ricky's the multi-million dollar real estate business and who was going to live with whom. I believe this, because things between them were never quite the same with them after those last few months of 2018. Even though Katie never went back to live with them, they were forever changed, especially in those last few weeks. I know they felt Katie was too much of a nuisance. I know they felt like they needed time to figure out how they were going to handle her. But I also believed they secretly hoped my mother and father, our family, could help Katie in some small way. Since none of my brothers or sisters had found themselves any in any sort of serious trouble -- no one was pregnant or got anyone pregnant. In our family, we had no serious druggies or anyone in trouble with the police. We all managed to get decent grades in school, despite being well-off and more than a little spoiled. In truth, I think I was probably the only one who did anything remotely off the beaten path. Back then, I did smoke pot here and there, usually garnered from my crazy cousin Jacob. But, I didn't do it for the high itself, mind you. Rather, I liked to wank-off when I was on the edge of being high, because my orgasms blasted through me like a geyser whenever I was under the influence of marijuana. It was my practice to toke-up at night, all by myself, just like Green Day sang about. Then I would watch some porn, get nice and hard and jerk-off like a motherfucker. I always got the biggest hard-ons and came with the thunder. Yeah... I was born a pervert. Well, anyhow, my mother had agreed to take Katie in for the entire summer and made plans to go bail her out of jail, planning to leave within the hour. It was a bright, late May morning, when she pulled me aside just before I was about to head out for school and she was about to go get Katie. She asked me then, if I felt I was responsible enough to help Katie, to show her around and make her feel at home. She told me Katie was going to be living with us for a spell and she was going to have to count on me to help get the girl under control. I remember smiling broadly and nodding, telling my mother she could count on me, all the while, I kept thinking about the last time I had seen Katie, the year before. The personal question she had asked had rung in my ears for the past ten months and still, I couldn't shake free of it. Ten months prior, the world had been more normal. This was right at the initiation of the Northern Intercontinental Alliance's declaration of war on genetics. This was before the disappearances first began, when the public executions had yet to start. The mass slaughter of people had yet to come, but the Shadow Seed had. Already, it had begun to wreak havoc upon the human population all across the globe. This was before we began to change as well. All of the above was commonplace now, but it didn't stop the fact that Katie's question still burned in my mind all this time later. I needed to know. I looked my mother straight in the eye and said I would help Katie in any way possible. Inside, I couldn't wait to see her again. Maybe this time, we could finish what I think would've been something very, very special. { ¹Cha Cha's: a female, generally of Latino descent, who goes and socializes with club-going, drug-using crowd. They are said to dramatically gossip about everything and anything, to anyone, around them. ~ Chapter 2 ~ (Summer -- 2017) 20 Questions [He can't believe he's brave enough to try this, especially after feeling so much doubt, but he does all the same. He sends a verbal command this time. "Full Immersion, please..."] It was hot that day, real sticky and muggy one too. I remember, because I had taken off my shirt, wearing only some knee-length, cotton shorts and nothing else. Still, I was sweating. We were in my bedroom on the third floor of my parent's house with all of the windows open. I was sixteen, a sophomore in high school, lifting weights like crazy, and trying, with all of my will, to put muscle my body. It wasn't meant to be though; I didn't possess the necessary mass to work with in the first place. My efforts only made me smaller. I was rock hard and lean, so in the mirror I had all of the proper cuts and definition of muscle. They merely weren't as big as I would've liked them. I had shaved off all of my hair on my head the year before, deciding that was going to be my look for the remainder of my high school career. Katie, I recall, was rubbing my scalp, which was slippery from the thin layer of perspiration. I remember I was looking into her eyes and got the impression I was falling into them. I had shaken myself free of them at the last possible moment, making her smirk. I ignored her and began looking over the rest of her face, thinking she was pretty. I knew in the back of my mind she would follow in the footsteps of her sister Caroline and her mother. Both were beautiful women, a pleasure to gaze upon. She had her hair up in a bun, keeping it off her shoulders, because of the heat. I could see her sinuous neck as it glimmered with a similar sheen of perspiration reflected in the sunlight. My eyes trailed down to her collarbone, then to her blouse. It was made of very thin cotton, opened enough to reveal the top of her bra and the upper swells of her breasts. She must've looked at my eyes then, because she tightened her grip on my head and made me peer back into hers. "You like the view?" she asked in her seductive Katie voice, the one that could tie me in knots in seconds. There was no immunity to that tone, especially with us being so much older now. Both of us were sexually active, so I couldn't help, but feel the full effect of her voice from the nape of my neck to the base of my nut sack. I shivered imperceptively. "Sorry," was all I managed at the time, feeling my throat constricting in embarrassment. Fuck, she had caught me ogling her tits! She stared at me for a time, her eyes boring into mine. I refused to look away; though I was a little nervous she might be mad at me. Then, she let her wrist fall to my shoulder, though her hand was still loosely touching my neck. I was sweaty there too, but she didn't seem to care. "So tell me more about the little whore you've been messaging about for the last few months. You've been boning now for what... like a year now?" The question came so far in left field, I moved away from her startled. Her hand fell beside my hip to my bed where we both sat. I laughed self-consciously, although I unconsciously placed my hand atop hers. "What do you want to know?" I asked, hoping to throw the ball back in her court, not sure if I had. "What she like? I mean, you've been fucking her on the side for the past year, hiding her from all your other girlfriends. I mean, if she's worth all the effort, she's gotta be good then, right? So, I want to know about her," she explained intertwining her fingers in mine and moving our hands over the surface of the comforter covering my bed. We supported each other's weight, while, at the same time, we moved closer together. I fell into her eyes once more, trying to figure out where she was going with this. I hoped to divine an answer within, but failed. I let my thoughts stray to Reyna Munoz, the girl who lived around the corner from my parents, whose mother and father had gone to school with my mother. This was the girl I'd been having sex with off and on for more than a year now. In my mind, I reconstructed the sight of her. She was five foot five inches tall with long, dark brown hair, as straight as an arrow, cascading down to the top of her butt. Her shoulders, back and hips were narrow. In sharp contrast to her full breasts, giving one the impression she was top-heavy, unbalanced. She had a v-shaped face with prominent cheek bones as equally sharp as her chin. Even from memory, she looked like she'd been carved out of marble. Her skin was so perfect, even its' color was the right shade of brown. As flawless as it was, it wasn't even her best feature, not by a long shot. It was her eyes that could stop a man in his tracks. They were the purest lime-green ever visited upon a person -- crystalline, endless. I could almost see them now, impossibly large, captivating. "I don't know, Kat, she's... uh... eager, I guess that's the word I am looking for," I explained somewhat lamely. "Eager?" began Katie. "What the fuck does that mean? Is she foaming at the mouth for it or what?" That made me laugh out loud. "No!" "Well, then what are you talking about?" "Well shit, let me think, ok?" I demanded, uncertain if my descriptive ability could accurately depict the girl in my head. "Ok, ok, sorry...," she replied trailing off with an imploring look on her face, though her eyes were still delving deep into my own. "I don't know... she kinda keeps us on the down low, you know. She acts all secretive and shit. She doesn't show anyone she's remotely interested in me. But when we're together...," I paused to squeeze her hand to make sure she understood my point, "...she goes like crazy, like whatever she's been suppressing, she's letting out all at once. It makes her do some crazy shit." "Like what, she let you hit it doggy?" wondered Katie with a sly smile, turning to the side, so she was looking at me from the corner of her eyes. "Yeah," had been my sheepish reply. "Face down, ass up?" I nodded. "Does she swallow your shit?" "Yup." "Hmmrph!" she sputtered knowingly, then, "Does she give up the ass too?" I bounced with sly giggles. "Yeah." "She gives you anal?!?" she queried with a large slice of incredulity. "Yeah, Kat, she likes it that way, that's the only way I can cum inside her," I conveyed more vehemently than I wanted. "God damn bitch is crazy... and in heat for you," concluded Katie. I just gave her a look of agreement. She returned it with a curious cast to her face. "Why, though?" she asked after a time. I pulled back with a frown. "Why what?" "Why is she all gonzo for you, Eff? I mean you've told me before that she isn't in love with you and you're not with her, so what's the deal? Why does she keep coming back for more?" She looked me up and down, as if she were taking stock of me, which made me feel uncomfortable. I had known her for so long. We had become close over the years, but in a more platonic way. I wasn't used to her looking at me like a piece of meat fit for consumption. "I don't know!" I exclaimed too forcefully, agitated. "I mean, I have always sort of liked her, even when we were little kids, when I first moved here. We used to play spin the bottle with her and some of my other friends. I liked her eyes. They shift from blue-green to green-blue, depending on her mood. I have always thought she was pretty," I iterated, hoping it would make some semblance of an explanation she could comprehend. She seemed to consider this for a time, but the longer she thought about it, the more she began to shake her head from side to side. "No, Eff, there's something more, I know it!" She mulled over the situation almost as though she was chewing on it. Then, "She doesn't really spend time with you, right?" I nodded. "And you guys don't talk on the phone all that much, right?" She got another nod from me. "And yet, every few days or so, when she has the time, she texts you that she wants to fuck you and then you guys go at it." It was a statement, but was framed like a question, her raised eyebrows conveying comprehension. "Yeah, that sounds about right," I said a bit confounded. I held my hand out to either side of me, palms up in supplication. I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know what else to tell you. It is what it is, Kat." She stared at me for a long time. I squirmed like an earthworm in the hot sun underneath her consideration. Until, it seemed a new, vastly different sort of thought had entered her mind. Her facial expression melted into a knowing one -- one that confused me even more. She released my hand. I hadn't felt her grab it again. She placed it back on my neck. Her wrist was once again resting upon my shoulder. She leaned in close and pulled me to her. Our foreheads were almost touching. "I don't want you to freak out, ok?" I nodded non-committedly, completely unsure of where she was going with this. My stomach was tied up in knots. "Let me see it." It was so vague a question, so lacking in description or specificity, I was immediately taken aback. "See what?" I asked through a creased brow. "Come on, Eff, don't act lame. The girl is obviously sprung on something and if it isn't your face or your body that tells me it is something else. That's why she keeps you in the closet, but keeps coming back. And I think I know what it is... Show it to me, ok?" she clarified with a smile growing on her face, despite her expression - determined, set. I frowned at her, hoping she didn't mean what I thought she meant. Then, at the same time, I was hoping it was exactly what she meant. I had to find out either way, right? "You want me to show you my junk?" She merely nodded, satisfied I'd finally understood, blinking her eyes rapidly. "But, Kat, don't you think it's... I don't know... crossing a line we shouldn't cross?" I asked, but I was still of two minds. So, there wasn't much weight to my words. I know we'd been friends for many years and I didn't want to tarnish our relationship in any way. At the same time though, another side of me, centered at the base of my manhood, wanted something more between us. She stayed quite contemplating the situation. Then, "Think of it as a medical procedure. I am just your doctor checking for abnormalities with your 'stuff'. How does that sound?" She used her index fingers to physically bracket the word "stuff". I mulled it over. I couldn't find any fault in her logic, especially since my dick was about to burst out of my shorts already, which was undoubtedly clouding my reason. I couldn't think past the urges surging through my privates back in those days. "Ok," I mumbled as I tried to pull down my shorts, but they got stuck on the tip of my cock. I had to stand in order to pull the fabric free from the engorged head of my penis. I pulled down the only garment I was wearing to my knees. My dick sprang free and bobbed for a bit in the hot summer air, free of constraint -- harder - since a beautiful, teenage girl was scrutinizing it with the eyes of a hawk. I pushed the blood toward it and made it swell even more, loving the sensation of feeling so solid, hard. I was still relishing the feeling, when out of nowhere - Katie grabbed it, forcing it to stop moving. I glanced down at her in shock. I saw her lean in, so she could inspect it in greater detail. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull. "Damn, Eff, your cock isn't the longest I have ever seen, but fuck it's thick like a tree trunk," she said somewhat breathlessly, squeezing me from the hilt and making a small dab of pre-cum bubble out of the slit. "Now, I know why she keeps you around." I never really thought of my penis as having substantial girth, because I figured that's what most guys had swinging between their legs. My younger brother, Johan, was hung just about the same as I. I had seen him many a time as we grew up through the years, so that sort of solidified my conclusions on the matter. "Why?" I asked hoping to gain some feminine insight, though I really wanted nothing more than for her to put her lips around my shaft. I wanted nothing more than to cum like I had never cum before down her... But I flung those thoughts aside, trying to clear my mind. My cock was aching for attention, so the effort needed to do so was gargantuan. "You fill her, Eff, completely. She can feel you throughout her vagina. I bet she can orgasm on your shit with only the slightest of movement... Damn, what a thick cock!" she said as she began to lean even nearer toward the head. I was barely listening. Why was she slowly stroking it now? I try as much as I can to remember what happened in the next second or two, but I am never one hundred percent sure if she really did lick her lips and was about to take me in her mouth... ...Or if I have added that little tidbit to the memory over time out of pure wishful thinking. What I do remember next was the yell of my step-sister, calling us to lunch, her feet stomping loud upon the stairs leading up to my bedroom. Katie released me at once as I yanked up my shorts and stuffed my aching dick back within them as fast I could manage. I sat back down on the bed to hide my hard-on, searching for my t-shirt, which was on the other side of the bed, so I had to stretch for it. All the while, Katie had stood, walked over to the open door of my bedroom and met my sister at the top of the stairs. She made as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, asking some mundane question I fail to recall at the moment. My step-sister answered her. Then looked at me expressionless and said, between a breath or two and a hardening about her eyes, we should all go down to the dining room and eat. I think she knew. I think, instinctually, she knew she had walked in on something, only she had no clue what it might've been. If she had known, she never would have let Katie see the end of it. For some funny reason, she was very protective of her step-brothers -- both of us. ~ Chapter 3 ~ (Summer -- 2018) Reunion Those images flashed through my mind when my mother asked me if I could help make Katie feel more at home in Los Angeles. She was wondering if I was mature enough, if I could keep my head about me and help the girl not think about Oklahoma as much as possible that summer. No problem, mom, I got this one, mom. Yeah right... Had Katie wanted to suck my dick? I couldn't think straight. The entire day at school I was distracted. I only half-heard and saw what was happening around me that day. I knew the school year was winding down and all my friends were ecstatic summer vacation was about to begin. Despite the fact most of us wouldn't be going anywhere far during our time off, the governments' restrictions on travel would see to that, but there were other things to look forward too. The late nights, the parties and the partying were more than enough to assuage our sense of freedom from our rigorous routines while school was in session. It seemed like forever to get through the day. We didn't do much, mostly talked or passed notes, but my mind was elsewhere. Even making out with my girlfriend hadn't helped much. She had whispered something like, "I can't wait for school to end, so we can make love every night." Still though, her enthusiasm only partially registered. My mind was preoccupied. There was only room for Katie. I managed the best I could. While I was at school, my mother brought Katie home and told her she would be staying with me, up in the third story Loft. She would have her own private bed and share a bathroom with no one but me. None of the other children in the house, or adults for that matter, would bother her in case she felt the need for privacy. The Loft, as we called it, was really a large room with a partial view of the second floor below at one end. In truth, it was a walled-in portion of the attic with two "bedrooms" screened off by curtains and a walled in half-bath with a toilet, a small sink, and a shower. Up until her arrival, the Loft had been my domain. I had moved up there a month after my step father contractors had built out the attic, adding the electrical and plumbing, turning it into a small apartment of sorts. It was a place I safeguarded against intrusion with zealous fervor. It was my little sanctuary away from my siblings, my parents, even the world sometimes, when things proved difficult and I just had to get away.