The New Order: Epilogue - Time Flies...
mg; mg+; gg+; oral; tf; preg
We couldn’t stay on Long Beach. That much was obvious. And though there didn’t seem to be any formal discussion, we all knew what we wanted – we wanted normalcy. We wanted to go back home. We wanted to return to the Towers in Jacksontown.
Stupid, I know… but it’s what we all wanted.
We ended up leaving Long Beach after three days of preparation. The girls acted as go-betweens between me and Ricketts, and I have to say that I was grateful for their determination to keep us apart – frankly, just the scent of him on Leslie and Conchita was enough to raise the hackles on the back of my neck and put me in a foul mood for several hours. It worked, though… Between Lillian’s organizational skills, Megs grit and determination, and Malinka’s pseudo-watch over our end of the island we managed to get through our tasks without me going batshit crazy and attempting to smash the blonde teenager into the ground like I so desperately wanted to do…
Fortunately, I did have an outlet for my aggression in the form of a tiny secret agent from a vague, ill-defined Eastern European nation who was trapped in the body of a drop-dead sexy six-year-old girl. I never really found out how she did it, nor did I think that I really wanted to know – but somehow Malinka managed to make peace with both Lillian and Rachel. I knew that the President simply waved her apology off, mumbling something about time healing wounds and all that. But my little blonde lover was obviously much more problematic… Between the torment of not being able to orgasm for three days combined with the forced lesbian mouth-on-pussy action the brunette put her through, I knew that Rachel’s forgiveness would be tough for Malinka to get. But somehow she managed to pull it off, and one evening after a particularly energetic bout of lovemaking Rachel broached the subject. “You’re gonna have to fuck her, y’know,” she gasped as she curled up in the crook of my arm, her nude flesh gleaming in the moonlight coming in through the open window.
“Fuck who?” I muttered. Frankly I wasn’t really thinking along those lines at that very moment, having just emptied the contents of my balls into the lithe little body of a tiny blonde pre-teen nymphomaniac. God, she feels SO good…
“Millie,” she replied. Idly she traced some figure on my sweaty chest with her fingertips, resting her cheek on my shoulder. “I mean, finger stuff and girly stuff is okay, it’ll get the job done,” she explained. “But we girls aren’t our best unless we get a regular dose of Mike.”
“It’s nice to know that I’m loved so much,” I chuckled wryly as I kissed the crown of her head. She smelled so good, a post-orgasmic girl-funk that seemed almost intoxicating… “But what about all that stuff she put you through? I mean, I could see Lam or Lil telling me this, considering what we’ve got ahead of us. But you…”
“Don’t worry,” she replied a bit stiffly. “We worked it out.”
I raised my head as she did the same, and I caught her gaze. She had a strange, neutral look in her eyes, almost Lamian in nature as she met my stare with one of her own. “What did you do?” I asked suspiciously.
“I said you don’t need to worry about it,” she repeated as she distracted me by dropping one tiny hand down to my still large, still semi-firm, Rachel-sticky cock as a distraction – one I was only too willing to take. “We’ve worked it out.”
The next day Malinka finally got the taste she had been so desperately wanting for far too long, coming into the bedroom as I was getting ready to take a shower. She was dressed simply in a pair of panties and a babydoll tee, her stiff little nipples poking through the fabric and looking oh-so pinchable, while a faint flush colored her neck and cheeks. “I coming to see if I help you,” she said with a tiny little smile, shutting the door behind her.
I finished pulling my tee up over my head and tossed it in the vague direction of the dresser, regarding the sexy little brunette with a hint of suspicion. There was something different about her, something almost… submissive? That’s not it… “Help me?” I asked curiously. “Help me with what?”
“Help to get off.” She took a deep breath and exhaled, and for the first time I noticed just how nervous she was. Without further dithering she slipped across the carpet, dropped to her knees, and began to work the buttons on my jeans. “I use mouth,” she simply said.
“Just your mouth?” I asked with a grin as she jugged my pants and boxers down. “What if I want more?” I added as I took a seat on the bed.
“I only use mouth,” she insisted as she nestled in place between my knees and took my stiffening cock in her tiny hands. “I not allowed more yet.”
Not allowed… I had a sneaking suspicion who in particular was granting her permission to do what, but honestly it wasn’t any of my business what arrangement she and Rachel had ultimately made, so I let it slide. The blowjob was… Okay, it was terrible. She gripped my shaft too tightly as she pumped, she just flicked the tip of her tongue against the head of my cock as if she were afraid it would burn her, and clearly displayed that while she might have the will she certainly didn’t have the talent as she gave me the worst oral attention I had ever received. If I had any doubts that she was a lesbian before, her performance that evening proved the truth of her claim – she was that bad, her inexperience that apparent. Still, she was tiny and cute and sexy and she smelled incredible, a combined flowery/little girl scent that instantly snapped me to attention, and to paraphrase the old adage bad sex is still pretty good. When I came it was in a great fountain that sprayed up past her somewhat shiny forehead and into her hairline, six long, pearly lines painting her face. “Shit, sorry,” I mumbled as vaguely I basked in my post-orgasm contentment.
“It okay,” she said. She worked one knuckle across her left eyelid, clearing away enough of the sticky sperm to open the eye, and gave me a smile. “They right, you taste good.”
“Thanks.” As she rose to her feet I added, “Do you need a towel or something?”
“No, thank you,” she replied. The look on her face was odd, something I just couldn’t place, but it seemed to speak volumes. “I show proof,” she elaborated as she padded out of the bedroom.
I didn’t know what sort of proof was needed, and I didn’t want to know – so I just ignored it. Rachel seemed inordinately pleased later that day as I plowed into her, using my cock on her and my fingers on Lillian as the pair double-teamed me, and I’ll admit that the curiosity was burning inside of me... but everything seemed good, so I simply let it slide. The next day Malinka gave up her ass, and finally on the third day she surrendered her pussy to me, but she was still very uncomfortable, almost stiff as I slid inside of her. I chalked it up to her newly-minted heterosexual status and tried to help her deal as best I could, and after a few weeks she was actually beginning to respond to my attentions in the way a little girl should.
Of course, that situation finally resolved itself when we had already made it back to the Towers… but at the time of my bad blowjob we were still trying to figure out how to go home. The plan we hatched was actually simplicity itself. As a result of the Event there were more than enough abandoned boats sitting quietly in their slips just waiting for someone in far greater need to come along and take what they needed – so we did. We found a state-of-the-art cabin cruiser that was more than large enough to house all eight of us, packed it full of canned goods and fuel from empty stores and powerless gas stations around the island, and mapped out a route. On the third day Meg somehow managed to wheedle some ammunition from the other group, who actually proved to be far more willing to share than I expected. Several cases of shells and bullets were added to our nautical transport (more than enough to allow ourselves to handle most anything that might come our way) in addition to a few spare M4 rifles that Ricketts and his girls had scavenged from the long dead, long missing National Guardsmen. Before I knew it we were ready to go, and Ricketts’s girls and mine said their teary-eyed goodbyes on the docks while my counterpart stayed far away. As we pulled out into New York Bay he rejoined the five waving goodbye, and I actually managed to wave myself. I was never happier to see someone vanish over the horizon…
I was worried that the trip back to the Towers was going to be a non-stop, hellish nightmare of fighting and terror, but to my vast surprise (and very profound relief) it was rather anti-climactic. Once we managed to cross over to the New Jersey side we simply went south, making sure to keep the coast on our right and dropping anchor only twice. The beaches were largely abandoned and showed absolutely no signs of life, be they survivor or Feral – a development I was only too happy to take. We were silent as we passed by Atlantic City, all of us saddened by the dark and silent skyline… but we were only too happy to dart across the small bay separating the state from Delaware, trying very hard not to think about the angry gray smudge on the horizon that almost seemed to hint at the dark place Philadelphia had become. Down south, past the Maryland peninsula until we cut north into the Chesapeake Bay, we made our way to our mid-point destination – Annapolis.
We were triply-careful as we got ready for the second leg of our trip, but even that proved to be nowhere near as problematic as we feared. Meg and Malinka stood guard while I actually swam to shore and set out in search of some wheels… and almost instantly stumbled upon yet another Hummer, this one an electric-blue and simply sitting there with the keys in the ignition, a crumpled and dusty suit occupying the driver’s seat. A few minutes to scrounge some gas, another few minutes convinced that an army of Feral was just waiting for me to turn my back and focus in on refueling the Hummer before they attacked, and then I simply drove to the small harbor just outside of town where we had dropped anchor. The girls managed to maneuver the boat into a slip, we unloaded in record time, and I took the keys to the cruiser – just in case.
Of course our luck couldn’t last forever, and we did have a couple of rather scary encounters. The first hit us when we were trying to negotiate our way out of the city and I was attempting to squeeze the Hummer through the clogged streets to reach the highways. A trio of Feral charged from a darkened, burned-out storefront that at one time might have been a hipster coffeehouse. I cursed and tried to move the vehicle faster, but I needn’t have worried – a single gunshot from above and a hot shell casing landing on my shoulder warred with a shot to my left, both of which followed by two more simultaneous shots that actually drowned out the startled squeaks of both Paisley and Rachel. “Got two,” Meg smirked as she dropped back into the passenger seat.
“No, you one,” Malinka shot back. “I kill second.”
“No,” Meg said in a voice dripping with sweetness and light – although a glance into her face allowed me to see that her smile was somewhat strained and her good humor didn’t seem to reach her eyes – as she turned and peered over the back of her seat. “I got the second one, straight shot to the head.”
“No,” Malinka replied in a voice just as sunny, “I shoot heart and kill, you knock down.”
“Does it really matter?” Lillian grumped as she worked a tiny finger into one ear in an attempt (I assume) to try and alleviate some gunshot-induced ringing.
“Why, I’m just tryin’ to make sure proper credit is given when it’s due,” Meg stated in a voice that practically oozed southern charm.
“Yes, and I kill two and you kill one,” Malinka insisted firmly.
“You don’t know how to count,” Meg fired back.
“You bitch!” Malinka hissed.
“One kill each,” I growled as I punched the accelerator for a split-second and tore through the blockage with a screech of metal, “and one shared kill. And if you don’t stop fighting I’ll give both of you a spanking so hard that you can’t sit down for a week!”
Of course, I shouldn’t have planted the idea in their heads – because naturally both of them came to me when we holed up for the night in a random motel just outside the city, insisting that I keep my promise. Meg squirmed her backside delightfully under my swats although, if pressed, I have to acknowledge that Malinka certainly faked her discomfort at the swats much better than the redhead, so I was forced to declare a tie between the two once more. But I’d like to think the big winner of the night was myself, if my cock buried in the sexy brunette’s pussy and my fingers plunging into the redhead’s hairless slit were taken into account – and after three orgasms (two shuddering little things that reduced the girls to mewling, shuddering blobs of sweat and girl-flesh and my titanic spurt inside the sneaky little spy), I’d have to say that I was triumphant, especially considering the kittenish, almost loving post-coital snuggling the pair insisted upon. We dozed off sometime in the night, neither one of them complaining about the ties binding their wrists behind their backs… not that I was in any great hurry to give them their freedom.
We pushed ourselves the next day to make it home, and were once again mostly lucky. We did run into a small knot of Feral on the outskirts of a small town with the appropriate name of Savage, but between Meg and Malinka’s incredible accuracy and the front bumper of our purloined Hummer we made short work of the half-dozen things. I have to admit that I got a bit excited as we turned down the last road leading home, and a strange sort of peace settled over me as the Towers hove into view. After being on the road for almost two weeks, after four days worth of travel, after feeling unconnected and out of place for so long, settling back into the temporary apartment on the second floor never felt better, and in our rush to rest in familiar comfort we decided to push the unpacking until the next day.
Of course, that was the day that the universe decided to teach us a lesson in planning for every event. I had literally just finished up a session with Paisley – who seemed even more determined to prove to me just how big a girl she actually was, given the maternal state she just seemed to realize she was suffering from – when there was a knock at the door. “Yo Mike, you decent?” Meg’s snarky question floated through the thin wood.
“Never,” I snarked back. I rolled off the still gasping, still trembling little girl (and tried not to wince as my cock made a truly disgusting wet, sucking sound as I pulled out of her stretched-wide, cum-soaked pussy) and sat up on the mattress. “Everything okay?” I asked as Paisley blushed a bit and tugged the sheet up over her sweat-slicked body.
The door opened and the redhead poked her nose into the room. “Good thing you’re done,” she said as she glanced at Paisley and smirked (which naturally caused the pigtailed brunette to blush even deeper) before fixing me with a direct stare. “We’ve got a visitor. A rather bitey, nakedy visitor.”
“Crap. Where?” I stifled a sigh as I stood, grabbed my jeans, and began to redress.
“Parking lot.”
“Okay, I’m coming.” I leaned over and kissed my sweaty playmate (who wriggled a bit happily and whimpered in pleasure) and then followed the redhead out into the hall. Lillian, Rachel, and Malinka were clustered on the balcony, looking down into the parking lot below – and I could hear the Feral’s snarls drifting in through the open door into the living room. “Everything okay?” I asked as Meg and I joined them outside.
“Just fine, Mike,” Lillian replied with a small, loving smile as she sidled up next to me.
“He can’t get us up here,” Rachel stated with certainty. “Hello!” she exclaimed brightly as she smile leaned over the railing a bit, waving as if greeting a friend – an action that caused the snarls to grow even more fierce. “How are you?”
“Don’t do that,” I admonished as wormed my way to the railing, given the tiny blonde girl a firm swat on the backside as I took my position.
“Why?” she said with a shrug as she rubbed one cheek. “We’re fine, we’re up here and he’s down there.”
“Tempt fate,” Malinka said sourly. I glanced over as she shot a glance in my direction, and then turned her attention back down as she tapped the side of the pistol she clutched against her slim thigh. “Bad idea to stick tongue at God.”
I looked down into the face of madness… He might have been white at one time, but after spending about three months running around naked in the summer sun his skin had a blistered, dark-burned quality. His hair was an indeterminate mud-brown color and bits of filth and dried blood covered his front. He was focused in on the girls above him dangling just tantalizingly out of reach, and with a truly titanic heave he leaped four feet straight up and strained to reach us. He came nowhere near close, but still… “I think Malinka’s right,” I opined. “Why tempt fate?”
“Why be stupid?” Meg muttered in agreement as she placed a hand on my shoulder blade and pointed. I looked past the Feral below us and saw a second racing up the hill, intent on joining his buddy trying to reach the succulent morsels clustered around me. “We gotta end this quick,” she added softly.
“I shoot.” Malinka didn’t hesitate but merely brought up the pistol and fired two shots in rapid succession, not even seeming to take the time to aim. The first shot shrieked down and drilled our visitor squarely between the eyes while the second raced out to drop his friend before he could get more than a few feet into the sea of cars in the parking lot, killing both within the space of a single second. “Problem solve,” she added with more than a hint of proud smugness in her voice.
“Holy…” Rachel whispered.
“Whoa!” Meg tore her gaze from the still slumping bodies and regarded the sexy brunette with a calculating look. “Nice shooting,” she remarked in a neutral tone.
“Eh,” the Eastern European girl replied with a dismissive shrug. “What I do.”
Our visitors reminded us of our situation, and beginning that day we started doing what we all needed to get done. After getting ourselves organized we began our work. First on the agenda was getting us back up to the tenth floor – though she couldn’t be sure, Lam believed that the higher off the ground we were the better we could avoid attracting any unwanted attention. By the time the sun went down we were back in our home, having replaced the destroyed glass door to the patio with one we salvaged from another apartment. As we settled back in (and I got ready for some master/slave time with Lam), I looked around at my girls and knew, just knew, that we had to move faster, we had to get everything ready for a time when the girls would no longer be able to help and I would be on my own.
The construction equipment from the interchange by the highway provided the mechanical muscle that we needed, and over the next few weeks we built some makeshift fortifications around the Towers. Well, in truth I did most of the work… even though Lillian worked with both Meg and Malinka to design something that actually looked like a frontier fortress with high concrete walls, given the Feral attraction to their tender, pre-teen flesh it was usually me hopping up and driving and lifting and wiring and digging and dropping and planting and securing and working to install some salvaged highway noise barriers in a semi-circle around the Towers while the Marine and the Eastern European spy kept watch with rifles, the open end of the fortification at the river behind us. I was concerned that maybe we should secure that end as well, but Meg pointed out that between the current and the lack of swimming ability in the Feral we should be safe. I was doubtful, but she seemed so sure that I decided to let her have it – besides, at the end of the day I was usually too exhausted to do anything more than simply lay on my bed. Nadia surprised me by displaying some truly incredible massage skills of which I took full advantage… although in truth she might have been just trying to use her skills to steal more Mike-time with me. I didn’t keep an accurate count, but for some reason I have the impression of spearing into a painfully skinny, almost bony little girl much more often than anyone else during my time as an amateur construction worker. I didn’t mind, though… and if the gasping, trembling, wincing little girl shuddering through her own orgasm as she impaled herself on my cock was any indication, neither did she. If there was any question as to her possible pregnancy before those few weeks of labor on my part, after there certainly wasn’t after I had spurted what felt like gallons of my seed into her little-girl womb.
Next on agenda was to secure both the grocery store and mall. Malinka and Meg were invaluable help in the first – one morning the three of us ventured to the store and, in a flurry of gunfire, managed to kill most of the dogs calling it home while driving off the survivors. After securing the doors we then performed the uber-disgusting task of tossing out all the rotten fruits, vegetables, and meats. It was horrifying (and I believe that if I never smelled spoiled milk again, it would be too soon), but after a couple more days we had a self-contained source of food. From that point on we would haul a few carloads of canned and dried food back to Towers, and within a couple of weeks we had packed the apartments on either side of ours with enough canned, preserved, and dried sustenance to last us until the next apocalypse. Securing the mall was even easier, although it was a task that I had to undertake on my own – after scrubbing myself down in a multi-hour shower using a rough soap that felt as if it were taking off a layer of skin and left my flesh a bright pink, I ‘liberated’ another car from our fleet of vehicles below, drove over, locked the doors, and then wandered through the halls sniping at Feral until I was literally the only living thing left inside besides the roaches. I found a lot of equipment and weapons which I took back to the Towers, and then I locked up everything else to keep until we might need it.
One piece of equipment I salvaged from the long-gone mystery people at the mall was a short-wave radio which, after much trial and error, we managed to get set up. This proved to be a godsend as it gave us contact with the outside world. One of the first people that we managed to connect with was Ricketts and his girls – it was staticky and not totally reliable, but it was good enough. Far from him, with no chance of face-to-face contact, I actually found him to be pretty cool, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor and a truly kind personality that seemed almost totally focused on the care of his young ladies, something that actually surprised me a bit. Lam proclaimed that it was because we were no longer under the influence of each other’s pheromones that I could actually see the ‘true’ Donald Ricketts, and after a few conversations with my New York counterpart I had to admit she was probably right – but honestly I didn’t really care all that much, given that I now had someone to talk to who wasn’t female, wasn’t consistently horny, and didn’t seem intent on either worshiping me or making me do more work.
Ricketts held the same attitude, so one day I made an official ‘because I said so’ decision and declared that Saturday nights would be a regular, routine time to talk to my fellow survivor. We ended up calling them Midnight Howls, and though they didn’t really do much to help secure the Towers or provide for our twisted little family they did help my sense of stability and made me feel better. Best of all, once Ricketts and I began speaking on a regular basis we found other survivors scattered around the eastern half of the continent. One evening our discussion – I believe it was more like gossip, as we tried to determine if there was some common factor that produced an anal fetish in our girls (Rachel, Malinka and Lillian for me, Jennifer and Leslie for him) – when a southern twang broke into our Howl. His name was Dickie Nixon (“Yeah,” he drawled good-naturedly, “my parents did love that president.”), and he was hunkered down in Eastern Kentucky with four girls named Lisa, Shayna, Mollie and Holly. He showed up on the air the next week as well, and soon he was part of our clique. On another night we made contact with a very staticky voice that cut in and out but let us know that someone named Simon was still alive and kicking in Chicago, and twice we heard a voice speaking rapid-fire Spanish – but we never really heard back from them and I’m not sure what their ultimate fate actually was.
The contact helped us all in general, and helped me in particular. Considering…
We all knew it was coming, but none of us actually wanted to admit it. We had settled into a life in the Towers which, by mid-October, had come to resemble something more approaching a Medieval frontier keep than anything else, a secure little outpost of civilization with high concrete walls topped with barbed wire and a heavy steel gate that looked strong enough to stop a charging rhino that protected us from the decaying, hostile world outside. Every one of us simply lived life, pretending that what was going to happen… simply wouldn’t. I don’t think that we were in denial, but rather that we were all consciously aware of the metaphoric death sentence that each of the girls was facing – and none of us wanted to admit it out loud, for fear that our acknowledgement would bring it forth that much quicker. Things were tense though, as tempers seemed to float at the very limit of civility, the laughter was a bit louder and a touch more hysterical than normal, and the lovemaking with the girls carrying an edge of desperate, brutal passion as each almost subconsciously tried to prove that they were still who they believed themselves to be, were still in charge of their own fate.
It began one afternoon in late October. The sky was a leaden, sullen grey and tiny little driplets of rain, more a mist than anything more substantial, cut wet streaks down the windows and smeared our view of the cool, rust-colored terrain outside. Fortunately I didn’t have to worry about conditions outside as I was indoors, seated in my nice, comfortable easy chair in my bedroom – with a tiny, sweet-smelling, adorable eight-year-old on my lap. It was Nadia’s turn to ride the Mike merry-go-round, and the Serbian girl was clearly more than eager to take a ride. “I… Want…” She gnawed her lower lip for a moment as she wracked her brain, trying to remember the appropriate words while her fingertips lazily drawing a pattern on my cotton-covered shoulder as she self-translated in her head. “Fingering… Asshole?”
I gave her a warm smiled, leaned forward, and planted a little peck on her lips. “Yes, good,” I said easily as I slipped my hand down her back to her bare ass. The painfully-skinny girl was naked, and as my palm settled in onto her warm, flat backside I let the tip of my middle finger worm between her ass cheeks. “Like this?” I asked with a wicked grin.
“Da!” she squeaked as my probing digit found it’s mark, bouncing up a little bit with a giggle of surprise – which only served to be her downfall when she settled back down and slid onto my finger to the first knuckle. “O!” she whimpered, “O Bože, tako je dobro…”
“English…” I warned sternly with a mock-frown on my face as I reached forth and tweaked one of her stiff nipples, a punishment that wasn’t if her surprised squeak of pained-pleasure was any indication.
“Nadia… bad,” she whimpered as she squirmed, the roll of her hips, working another fraction of an inch of my finger into her way-too-tight asshole. “Filthy… ass… slut… feel good!” she finally managed to blurt out in halting, unsure words. Her tiny hand flashed up to mine, and she pressed my palm firmly against her chest, almost as if inviting me to abuse her already stinging nipple even more. “Fuck… whore… up butt?” she asked in a tiny voice, her eyes hopeful as she gave her hips a little wriggle and ground her tiny, hairless slit against the bulge in my jeans.
For the briefest of seconds I resolved to have yet another talk with my wicked little blonde troublemaker – it was fairly obvious that Rachel was taking the opportunity to teach Nadia some inappropriate English during their mutual masturbation sessions. But the feeling couldn’t possibly last very long, especially with a very warm, very horny little girl wriggling on my lap. I gave her nipple one last tweak, slid my hand down her bare body (and pausing just for an instant over her slightly puffy tummy, proof of a consequence of our previous playtimes), and moved down to the cleft between her legs, my fingertips instinctively seeking the little button that I knew would make her feel so good…
A commotion outside in the hallway pulled my attention away from my ready and eager sex kitten and to the door, my brow furrowing as I glanced over Nadia’s slim shoulder. Before I could do anything the panel burst open and Paisley dashed in, a panicked, worried look on her face. “Daddy,” she said in a fear-filled voice, “Lam is crying!”
“What?”
“Lam is in the back bedroom, ‘n she’s crying. She threw a book at Lilly and screamed at her!” The pigtailed brunette glanced over her shoulder nervously, and hitched up the spaghetti strap of her tee as she turned back to me. “She’s shouting weird words,” she added in a nervous whisper.
“Crap.” I gave a confused-looking Nadia a kiss on the forehead, patted her bare ass, and lifted her off my lap. “I’m coming,” I said as I stood, pausing only to readjust my rock-hard cock in my jeans to allow me to move.
The hallway was filled with both shadows from the gloom outside, the panicked sounds of Lam through the open door, and a gaggle of worried, fretting girls. My gaze flicked from face to face, taking in their nervousness and indecision. “You okay?” I asked Lillian as I passed by, but the little Latina didn’t answer except to nod and stroke my arm. “What’s going on?” I added, directing my attention to the pair at the door.
“Dunno, Mike,” Meg replied. She poked her head around the doorframe and quickly jumped backwards as a rather heavy-looking book crashed into the wood near where her crimson mop had been a split-second earlier, followed by a tiny shriek of Vietnamese words. “She’s freaking out, won’t let anyone near her,” she explained as she fixed me with a concerned look.
“I just opened the door to see if she wanted to… y’know,” Rachel added. She blushed as I scanned her up and down and took in her skin-tight panties and babydoll tee, instantly aware of what she intended. “But before I could say anything she screamed and started throwing things!”
“I… I’ll take care of this.” No, fuck no, c’mon God, don’t be a dick… With a sinking heart I forced my leaden feet forward and slipped past the pair, taking a tiny step inside the room. A few weeks ago Lam had taken the opportunity afforded by a rainy fall afternoon to have me rearrange the furniture within, pushing the bed up against the wall and set up the other half of the room as a home office for her research. I pushed the door half-shut behind me with my heel as I scanned the room, knowing that there was no way I would be able to keep the other girls from trying to eavesdrop so not even attempting to try. I couldn’t see her at first… and then I did, hiding in the small little nook between the wall and her desk and peering over the edge with wide, luminous, terrified eyes. “Lam, sweetie, is everything okay?” I asked in what I hoped was a soothing voice as I took another tentative step inside.
For a second I thought she wasn’t going to respond… and then she darted out of her hiding place, scrambling across the carpet on tiny, bare feet and throwing herself into my arms. The Asian girl was trembling as she pressed her tear-stained cheeks into my abdomen and sobbed. “Sư Phụ!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled by my body as she clung to my waist. “Cảm ơn các vị thần ở trên, tôi rất sợ hãi...”
“It’s okay, sweetheart, really,” I replied lamely as I patted her back. I pulled myself free and knelt before her, bringing her face on a more even level with mine as I stared into her eyes. “What’s going on?” I asked. Lam didn’t respond, but instead just stared at me with blank, almost confused eyes as she gnawed on her lower lip for a moment, and then threw her arms around my neck and sobbed piteously.
“Mike,” Lillian said from the doorway. I glanced over to see the Latina pointing towards the desk. “Over there, I think.”
I turned my attention to the desk and shuffled across the carpet on my knees, dragging the clingy Asian girl along for the ride. The desk looked Lamian… everything was neat and organized, from the piles of books lining the edges to the stacks of folders stacked squarely to her pad neatly placed just-so. For a moment I couldn’t see what Lillian had seen and spent a moment scanning the surface – and then my eyes fell upon a sheet of paper sitting squarely in the middle of the wood surface, prominently all by itself. I leaned over, hugging Lam with one arm as I turned the sheet so I could read…
It was a note from her, a note that sent a chill up my spine. Master, I can feel myself slipping away, she had written in her neat, almost formal script. When you read this, I will be gone. Know that I love you with all of my heart, and exist only to worship you. You are my Dragon Master, and shall forever be as such!
I beg of you, treat me with kindness and love, for my very life shall be within your hands. If my theory is correct I will not understand anything that you shall say – I did not learn English until I came to the United States, and though you have not pressed me I have noticed that I am forgetting the language.
I have jotted down some appropriate phrases on the back of this, my first and last love letter to you, to aide you in communicating with me. Please, my lord, teach me! Use my body as you see fit, I belong to you fully, body and soul. I shall forever worship you, my beloved Dragon Master.
Your slave in eternity,
Doctor Lam Tran
I quickly flipped the page and saw them, simple phrases in English that either I had said or would say to her, anything that she could think of, along with corresponding translations written out in phonetic Vietnamese. “Oh, God damn you, you wonderful little bitch,” I whispered to the girl clinging tightly to me with tears in my eyes as I gave the crown of her head a little kiss. “All the way to the end.”
“Tôi không hiểu,” she whimpered in reply. She looked up at me, her terror-filled eyes wide and tears flowing down her cheeks, and added “Xin vui lòng, những gì đang xảy ra?”
I had no idea… but I had a thought. I quickly scanned down the translation page and found something similar to what I wanted, and then turned my attention back to the tiny Asian in my arms. “Ban la tin yeeoo cua toy, Lam” I said, knowing deep inside that I was mangling the pronunciation but praying that the message got through to her. “Toy se may may bao ban coy soo doo. Dung so.” To my ears it sounded lame and totally unintelligible gibberish, but my words seemed to have the right effect because the little girl calmed slightly – although she still clung to me and trembled in fear, her eyes darting around the room and resting for a split second on the half-open door before she buried her face in my shoulder and clutched me tight.
“What did you say to her?” Rachel asked from the door, her voice containing more than a hint of sadness.
I looked over and saw Meg, Lillian, and her peering inside, and in the shadows behind I could sense Malinka, Nadia and Paisley straining to see past the trio. “I told her that I loved her, and that I would keep her safe,” I replied as I gave her a gentle squeeze. “She… told me what to say,” I added lamely.
Lam didn’t leave my side for the rest of the day, and indeed insisted on sleeping with me that night. We didn’t need to communicate verbally under the covers as her nude body and warm, passionate kisses let me know exactly what she wanted, and we made love, a gentle act that reduced her to tears of joy and pleasure even as she was impaling herself on my cock. I spent the next day with her, using the phrases she had jotted down and an English-to-Vietnamese translation book that she had gotten from somewhere to open up a rudimentary level of communication, and it was a testimony to her raw intelligence that she managed to learn everyone’s name and a couple of rudimentary phrases in English by the time we went to bed that next night.
Lam’s experience naturally freaked the rest of the girls out, and over the next few days things were tense as any little thing touched them off… which is why when it was Meg’s turn to go we didn’t even notice. I was in the living room with Lam trying to teach the innocent little Asian girl more English, rewarding each correct answer with a little kiss. They were totally unlike the deep, tongue-heavy kisses that a pre-innocence Lam used to give me – instead, she would pucker her lips and kiss mine lightly, almost blushing in embarrassment at the feelings such an intimate, non-sexual contact brought up in her. Of course, clad as she was only in a tiny, skintight pair of panties and one of my grossly-oversized tee shirts (that, for some reason, she insisted that was unwashed – I guess my scent helped her feel brave or something), I have to admit that it wasn’t exactly torture on my part. “A… is... for… Apple?” she said haltingly, her brown eyes wide and hopeful as she peered up at me.
“Very good!” I replied. Lam beamed, and leaned forward for her reward kiss, her eyes fluttering shut and her lips pursed. I half-leaned forward to receive another sweet little-girl kiss… when a commotion from the hallway gave me pause. Both of us turned and watched Meg stomp into the living room with a deep blush and an almost scowl on her face, followed closely by both Rachel and Lillian skittering after her.
“Don’t you storm away from me, Colonel!” the President snapped, her face a mask of stormy rage as she barreled after the muttering redhead.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Mikey, Meg’s being a bitch!” Rachel hissed. “She was digging in my stuff, and then she lied about it!”
“Fuck you,” the redhead grumbled as she threw herself into a chair across from the couch.
“No, fuck you!” the Latina snapped back as she ground to a halt and glared down at the Marine, her body stiff and her fists planted on her hips in an authoritarian pose. “Mike, make her apologize!” she added in my direction, her words containing just the barest hint of a whine.
“Lil,” I began wearily. Beside me I could feel Lam stiffening, her newly-minted innocence causing her to feel the tensions in the room and to sidle just a few inches closer to my much larger, much more masculine form as if in search of protection.
“I thought your stuff was pretty,” muttered Meg. The redhead slouched low in her chair and drew her lower legs up under her, almost shrinking into the oversized lounger as she sulked. “I just wanted to see what all was there,” she added petulantly.
“I didn’t say you could!” hissed Rachel. She glared down at the Marine and mirrored Lillian’s pose, stiff authority with her fists on her hips. “Just keep your fat, ugly face out of my stuff!”
I was about to step in and play peacemaker… when to my shock Meg suddenly burst into tears! “Meg!” I exclaimed in alarm as left the couch and moved over to the girl, waving the other two back with my hands as I knelt next to her. “Meg, what’s wrong?”
She raised her face, and my heart thudded in my chest. I could see it in her eyes when her gaze met mine – the confusion, the blank nothingness, the sheer innocence that seemed to tell me that she thought the world was far too big and confusing in which to survive. “Mikey, they’re all so mean to me!” she sobbed as she wiped her eyes with her forearm. “They keep pickin’ on me ‘cause I’m so ugly, ‘n I’m fat!”
“Back off,” I quietly tossed over my shoulder to Lillian and Rachel before turning back to the redhead. “You’re not ugly, and you’re not fat,” I quickly replied as I placed a gentle, calming hand on her forearm. “You’re really, really pretty,” I added somewhat lamely.
“Oh, fuck,” I heard Rachel hiss quietly behind me, the two words filled with horror.
“Nu uh!” Meg disagreed with a violent shake of her head, her gentle crimson curls whipping about her skull and a few stray tears spraying off her cheeks and onto my tee shirt. “I’m all fat, ‘n have buck teeth, ‘n all these icky freckles…” she sobbed. “It’s no wonder all anyone wants to do is pick on me!”
I felt a sick sensation in my stomach, almost as if I were in freefall. “Meg, you’re not, you’re really pretty…” I stammered. Oh fuck, not her, not now…
The redhead lunged forward and wrapped her arms around my neck tightly, buried her face in my chest, and sobbed. “You’re the only one who thinks so, I’m fat ‘n ugly ‘n nobody likes me, they’re all so mean, I’m so glad that you like me ‘n I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll even do it in the butt, ‘cause you’re my boyfriend ‘n I love you ‘n you’re the only one who likes me, I’ll do anything you tell me to do…”
It took me close to an hour to get her calmed down enough to the point where she was actually vaguely willing to be apart from me – but unlike Lam (who showed some surprising courage and refused to leave, instead opting to sit next to the fragile redhead and hold her hand in a comforting manner) I now had an opportunity to find out just how far this vanishing had gone. A serious of questions reveled that most of what made her Megan McCrea was no longer there – she only remembered that she loved me, that we were sleeping together, that I was her boyfriend, and that she was going to be the mother of my child. The Marine was gone, and in her place was a very scared little girl named Meg who believed that she had just completed the first grade. She was so insecure that I spent the next two days with her close to me, just in case she needed a bit of kindness and comfort. I don’t know what freaked me out more… the fact that the snarky, hard-driving redhead I had grown to know and tolerate was totally gone, or that her true self was a shy, insecure little girl with low self-esteem and body issues – and who was embarrassed to admit that she loved the color pink. Needless to say I avoided getting too aggressive with her when we played our bedroom games, instead showering her with positive reinforcement and reining in my desire to be rough and force her to take my cock. That was… before. For her part Meg responded to both my touch and my praise, although she blushed furiously when forced to be totally naked before my hungry gaze in the light of day and started at any loud noises or angry emotions in her presence. She was truly gone.
My frustration only grew as, one by one, each of my charges faded away. Lillian was the next to go as she too vanished from the world, this time under my direct gaze. She was naked and bound and impaling herself on my cock, taking every inch of me inside of her as she whimpered in agonized-ecstasy, her caramel-colored skin slick with sweat as she rolled her hips. She had twisted her hair into a pair of pigtails that lay draped over her bare shoulders and moved in time to her thrusts, and her chin was pressed against her collarbone as she worked to please her sexual master (me). We both reached the edge and came, me with a growl as I pressed deep and soaked her baby-filled womb with yet more of my seed and she stiffening with little gasps and mewls of helpless pleasure as she shuddered through her orgasm, and then she sagged against me – and when her chocolate eyes met mine I could see it, see that she was gone, see that she had slipped away sometime between lowering her hairless slit onto my thick cock and when she shuddered through her climax. Malinka vanished sometime in the middle of the night four days later, and the only reason that I could tell that she was gone was because she couldn’t communicate in English anymore. She was followed quickly by Nadia who evidenced the same thing – and it was only through the foresight of the long-gone Lam that I found the English-to-Russian dictionary among her research, proof that she had been planning for this time for what must have been weeks. In each case I didn’t want them to go, didn’t want them to lose what made them unique – and in each case I could simply stand there and grind my teeth, as there was absolutely nothing I could do.
To my infinite surprise, the truest heroine of this dark time was Paisley. I think on some level she instinctively knew that something was happening to the others, something that was taking away small women who acted like her parents and authority figures and had replaced them with immature, confused, scared little girls, and she took it upon herself to become a combination of teacher, mother, and big sister. If she wasn’t completely innocent herself I would have suspected her of manipulating the situation to garner even more time with me – after each girl faded, the first time I was intimate with them the little brunette would insist on joining us to ‘help out.’ “I just want to make you happy, Mister Mikey,” she insisted one evening after I had used my cock and fingers to get Lillian, Meg, and Malinka off at the same time (an accomplishment of which I was secretly proud of) while my partner in crime availed herself of the former President’s mouth. “They’re all…” She paused for a second as she thought, and then simply shrugged. “They aren’t the same,” she concluded.
“No they aren’t.” I raised my head to regard the freshly-fucked trio – the Latina with her wrists still bound behind her back, the redhead who had instantly scrambled to pull on an oversized sweatshirt to hide her body the second that my fingers slipped out of her hairless slit, and the Eastern European brunette who was fast asleep with her thumb firmly planted in her mouth – and lay back down, snuggling Paisley closer. “And you’re doing great, I’m so totally proud at how grown up you’ve been,” I added as I gave her a little kiss on the forehead. The pigtailed girl preened… and then used her hands to get me hard once more so that she could steal a proper reward. As I clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her from waking the dozing trio I took advantage of her – and her shuddering orgasm proved that she was more than amenable to my attempt at discretion.
Finally, at the end, there was only Rachel left. None of us guys could determine a pattern as to what would trigger the ultimate fading away – there seemed to be no rhyme or reason, no quantifying factor that we could detect. Ricketts said that his girls were all gone, reduced to the level of ignorant, sex-crazed little girls and totally dependent upon him for even the most basic of survival, while Dickie claimed that his Lisa was still hanging in there but he was afraid she’d go just like the others, at any time and without warning. We tried to be discrete, but we needn’t have bothered… with the exception of my tiny little pigtailed blonde, none of the other girls inhabiting the Towers could understand the content of our discussion except maybe that we were talking about them. We felt frustrated and helpless to stop it. There was nothing we could do except prepare ourselves for the moment and try to be as kind as possible to our newly-minted innocents.
And then one night in early November Rachel and I were in bed together, making fierce, almost primal love. If it wasn’t for the emotions coursing through our souls it might have been rather perverse – to our left Lam and Lillian slept in each other’s arms, the Asian girl and the Latina clad in tiny little panties only and clinging to each other with their puffy bellies pressed together. To my right Nadia was out of it, lost in the throes of what I assumed was a sex dream (if her little subconscious gasps and moans were of any indication) while she sucked on her thumb, her other hand under the covers and buried in what I assumed was her pre-teen pussy. Rachel was balanced above me, nude and gleaming in the crisp, clean moonlight flowing in through the window, her pre-teen body flawless and her own tummy bulging slightly from our baby growing within. She propped herself up with her palms on my chest, rolling her hips forwards and backwards as she rode my cock, her face an intense mask of concentration as she whispered in time to her thrusts. “My… Name… Is… Rachel… Gillespie!” she gasped.
“You’re Rachel Gillespie,” I whisper/growled in response. I slid one hand from her shoulder down to her chest and gave a tiny, stiff nipple a little tweak, an act that tore a gasping whimper from between her lips.
She bore down on my cock so hard that for a moment I thought she was trying to tear herself open, but then she rolled her hips once, twice, three times, and started thrusting with wild abandon, each move of her hips impaling her fully on my rod. “I won’t forget!” she chanted. “I won’t forget… I won’t forget… I won’t… I wo…” She stiffened above me, her entire body going rigid as her pre-teen pussy clamped down on my shaft, and her eyes half-rolled into the back of her head and a thin, almost desperate keening issued from between her gaping lips as she crashed over the edge into a truly titanic orgasm. The sight and feel and smell of my little pigtailed blonde girl lost in the throes of her pleasure was the trigger I needed, and I tensed as I spurted jet after white-hot jet of jism into her already-fully-packed cunt.
Beside me I heard Nadia mutter something in Serbian as Rachel and I rode out our twinned orgasms, but my world consisted of only my little lover as she trembled, sagged, and collapsed onto my chest. “I won’t forget,” she whispered softly, her words filled with an aching misery. “I won’t forget.”
“I won’t let you forget, Rach,” I said quietly. I slid my arms around her shoulders and held her close, squeezing gently as she trembled and sobbed atop of me.
“I don’t want to go,” she sniffed. She raised her face to mine and fixed me with a terrified gaze, her cheeks wet with tears. “I don’t want to leave you!”
“I won’t ever leave you, my love,” I replied. I raised my head slightly and gave her a kiss, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips. “I’ll take care of you forever, you and our beautiful child.”
“I know Mikey, I love you, I want to have a hundred babies with you,” she whimpered. She folded her hands on my pecs and rested her chin on them, her eyes filled with misery. “I was born in New York, I moved to Virginia with an ex-boyfriend who was a douche, I wanted to be an actress!” she whispered, as much to herself as to me. “Michael Doyle is the man I love, it took forever to find him, I can’t leave him, I won’t leave him!”
“I know,” I replied softly as I stroked her hair, wishing that there was something, anything...
“I don’t want to go!” Her voice was tiny, terrified, small and helpless and full of desperate need.
“I won’t let you go.” I tightened my arms around her and held her close as she softly cried. “I love you Rachel, I won’t let you go.” In the dark of the night, it was a promise that I made, a promise I wished I could keep. A promise that, deep down, I knew that I couldn’t make come true. I wanted to, but it was impossible. I couldn’t… and I hated myself for even believing that the lie could be true. All I could do was to hold her, hold my little blonde lover, hold one of the mothers of my children in my arms as she cried.
When I woke up the next morning, she was gone.
Fall ultimately turned into winter... and it was a nasty one. I never realized how appreciative I should have been, and how much I missed, our basic civilization infrastructure. In late November a series of storms rolled through which ended up dumping feet of snow on top of us, something that was both good and bad. On the plus side it turned the entire landscape into a beautiful winter wonderland, a rolling field of brilliant white that seemed to go on forever – but on the minus side, there was now a two foot layer of snow on the roads that was pretty much permanent until the spring thaw, meaning that any expeditions away from the Towers was a true odyssey. I was glad that we had worked so hard to prepare for our isolation during the summer and fall, because if we hadn’t we would have been in deep shit. Well, to be more accurate I would have been in deep shit… by the time mid-December rolled around I was the only adult left, and thus the responsibility fell upon my shoulders.
By far the most problematic thing was the risk of boredom setting in. Not for me, of course… but rather for the lovely little morsels in my charge. I quickly discovered that, unless given an outlet for their energies, the girls ran the risk of falling into bickering little cliques that were in a state of near-constant warfare. I could never get the actual membership or rules of the twisted little game straight, but there always seemed to be a group led by Rachel (which usually included Lam) versus another group led by Lillian (with Meg as her lieutenant). Malinka and Nadia independently seemed to switch sides on a near-constant basis based on some unknown factor, and though she tried to hold herself above such childish things Paisley too would sometimes be drawn into the orbit of one faction or another. After being forced to intervene between two groups of hissing, spitting little girls screaming at each other three times in a single week over some slight (real or imagined, I couldn’t tell… not with six little girls all yelling at me at the same time), I decided that I had to lay down the law.
After plumbing my creative depths, I managed to come up with something that both served to keep the peace and the girls entertained… and naturally they somehow turned into some perverted and rather hot sex game. I called it Empress for a Day – after breakfast the girls would all draw cards, and the highest one would get to wear a tiara I had salvaged from a jewelry store in the mall (and, if the price tag was accurate, would have cost about thirteen thousand dollars, before) and rule the roost. For the first couple of weeks I worked to make sure girls didn’t go too far and encouraged them to merely play make-believe… but of course, given their new sex-kitten mindsets the Empress frequently ordered the others to perform sex acts that only occasionally bordered on the lewd and degrading. Fortunately the girls mostly behaved themselves, but did notice that Rachel would make Malinka do some truly perverse things when the little blonde girl was in charge, not the least of which was to force the brunette to use her tongue to wash every inch of her body (including cunt and asshole). The Eastern European girl didn’t seem to mind all that much, though – so I let it continue.
As Christmas arrived I realized that I had an issue growing into a major problem… well, to be more accurate, the girls had a major growing problem. All seven of them were pregnant, and all of them were truly beginning to show. Maybe it was their tiny, diminutive sizes, but for some reason I took definite notice of their swollen bellies. It first hit me one morning as I was preparing breakfast for my harem and Lam wandered out to the dining room (late, as always) to join her sisters. I froze in the archway to the kitchen, my eyes growing wide as I took in her tiny frame, her thin arms and legs, the flowing silky black hair and wide, innocent brown eyes – and the apparent basketball she was attempting to smuggle under the old dress shirt she was wearing. She noticed me staring, and her face split into an almost beatific smile. “Master… Like?” she asked in her halting, almost guttural English as she twirled – and subconsciously framed her very pregnant tummy with her forearms.
“Uh… yes, you’re very pretty,” I managed to somehow stammer as my cock stirred in my pants.
“Am I pretty too?” Meg asked. I tore my gaze from the preening Vietnamese girl and focused in on my emotionally-needy redhead, focusing in on her wide, doubt-filled emerald eyes as she worried her lower lip with her teeth.
She had yet to pull her seat up to the table and as she sat there, her palms planted on the wood between her splayed thighs as she swung her feet so that her bare heels bumped against the chair legs beneath her, I was struck by just how swollen her belly was – and just how unbelievably hot she looked with her dress shirt falling off one shoulder. “Of course you are,” I quickly said, gratified that the simple words from my lips instantly made her preen. “You are the prettiest little red-haired girl I ever met,” I elaborated. I forced myself to move forward (a difficult task, considering just how painfully hard my shaft was in that moment) to serve my little lovelies some reconstituted dried scrambled eggs. Of course, my rock-hard state was not lost on them, and there was a general argument over who would be the one to enjoy a Mike appetizer before their main course. Lillian won the draw and almost purred as she used her tongue and two tiny hands to get me off. Most of my issue ended up in her mouth, but the gleaming, pearly-white splash that lay across the bridge of her nose like a perverted nasal strip was rather distracting as we tried to eat. She seemed happy with her badge of honor though, so I didn’t say anything.
Christmas was wonderful… well, as wonderful as it could have been in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. One day I slogged through foot-deep snow to hit up mall to get presents for girls – I had decided that they all could use some new clothes (which every single one desperately needed, considering their swollen bellies), some books, toys, dolls, and DVDs to keep them entertained. Christmas morning was a treat for them, especially considering that I gave them a reward for being good in anticipation of Santa’s arrival and treated them with chocolate. I quickly decided that giving them a full bag each might have been a mistake on my part, not the least because the stuff almost sent them into cocoa-induced orgasms. They hid it from me, but I began to suspect that the girls started using their stashes as some subtle, relatively legal form of black-market currency to get things from each other – one day I noticed that Rachel was doing some extra chores that normally Lam and Lillian did, while Malinka seemed much more willing to be oral with other girls than usual. After a few hours of dithering I ultimately decided not to intervene – after all, their personally-created capitalist system didn’t seem to be doing anyone any harm, and was actually kind of amusing. Ricketts certainly got a kick out of it when I let him and Dickie know, and hinted that he too had discovered the glorious bribe potential of chocolate.
The New Year came and went as we settled into a light, easy routine of survival. I spent our snowed-in time tracing the wiring of the solar panels of the Towers and figured out where everything was, and made a note to try and find some engineering books after the spring melt just in case I had to fix the damn things. There was a bit of an issue when the pipes froze during an especially cold snap, but the river provided us with some water once I hacked a hole in the ice – although the girls definitely didn’t like their lukewarm baths! It had been months since I’d seen a Feral, and we three guys theorized that they might be hibernating like bears… but honestly I didn’t really care, as long as they weren’t around. I don’t believe I fired any of our weapons for about three months, which was just fine by me.
The girls grew steadily more pregnant as the weeks passed, their bellies growing to truly enormous sizes as our babies matured. Almost instinctively I held myself back during our non-stop sexual playtime – maybe this change had altered my mind as well, considering the almost gentle way I treated my tiny, fragile charges. Even though they were gone the girls still held little bits of their old personalities… Lillian insisted that everything was neat and orderly, Rachel was still clingy and needy when she felt weak, and an almost sneaky gleam floated in Malinka’s eyes when she was being bad (which, fortunately, wasn’t too often). Still there were some truly monumental changes in the way they acted, based on what I assumed was their original childhood personalities. Rachel didn’t seem to care what she wore, and if it weren’t for the snow outside I think she would have simply run around naked; Meg turned out to be a tiny little fashion plate, insisting that she only wore the prettiest of dresses; and Lam displayed truly horrendous taste in the most ridiculous of videos, playing some low-quality piece of crap DVD featuring animated flying ponies (I think – sometimes they were girls in high school, but they always had magic powers) over and over and over again. I simply did the best I could to roll with the punches, playing kind big brother most of the time, stern father when needed… and loving boyfriend when their sexual desire got too much and they needed release.
In mid-February (just shy of Valentine’s Day – which prompted another run to the grocery store for more chocolate and the mall to find some size zero lingerie, both of which the girls loved, even if they were far too pregnant to actually use most of the frilly, lacy gifts I provided) Ricketts vanished for about two weeks and I began to get worried… until he came back and told a tale of a nor’easter that only dropped another inch of snow on us but had pounded Long Island. In the middle of the night he had been forced to gather up his terrified, pregnant charges and move across the island to a new house when the waves began to erode the beach. Everyone survived, but the ocean-ward side of Long Beach was trashed. I have to admit it, I felt more than a bit smug but fought the urge to say ‘I told you so!’ as he started making noises about attacking Long Island proper when winter ended. Dickie started teaching both Ricketts and I about hunting and trapping wild game, and I was lucky enough to bag a deer that had wandered too close to our defenses one wintery day. I passed on what little knowledge I had about the solar panels in the Towers to the other two, while Ricketts taught us about auto mechanics. (Who knew?) All in all things were quiet, the sharing of advice helped, and we simply waited nervously because we knew what was going to happen, even if we didn’t know how exactly it would go down…
It was about a week or two until spring. Well, when I expected spring to start – outside the glass door of our apartment the countryside was still locked in under a blanket of snow, a brilliant white carpet that dazzled the eyes when you looked out for too long. I wasn’t looking out over my domain, however… I had a far more important task in which I was engaged. One part hygiene, one part sexual playtime, I was in the large shower with three tiny, adorable, and far-too-pregnant pre-teen girls, getting wet and soapy and receiving some oral attentions.
“It’s my turn!” Meg whined as she gave Lillian a little push to the shoulder. The redhead’s crimson hair was plastered to the back of her head and upper back as she knelt before me, one hand supporting the bloated weight of her swollen belly and the other indicating her annoyance to her sister. The Latina ignored her, concentrating as she was by trying to force as much of my rock-hard cock into her mouth as possible. It wasn’t really happening, though… my tool was far too thick for her to get more than half of the head past her wide-stretched lips, and she actually gave a little growl of annoyance as she worked her tiny hand up and down the length of my shaft. “I wanna suck Mikey off!” the ex-Marine added in frustration.
Lillian pulled her head back, letting the tip of my prick leave her lips with a wet smack. “His boy-thing is too big!” she whined in annoyance as she brought her other hand up from her swollen belly to my cock. “I can’t fit it in!”
“Maybe…” Meg gnawed on her lower lip, trying to problem-solve their dilemma, and then shrugged. “Maybe if we both lick the head at the same time we can get Mikey’s stuff to shoot out!”
The Latina smiled and nodded, sending driplets of water spraying from her forehead. “Okay!” I simply just leaned on the waist-high shower ledge and smiled as the pair of them went in, each with a small, little-girl hand working the length of my erection and both of their tiny pink tongues washing my cock’s bulbous head. It’s nice when they share their toys…
“When is it my turn?” Rachel whined from the other side of the stall. “I wanna eat some of Mikey’s yummy stuff too!”
I couched my face into a stern mask. “You know the rules, sweetheart,” I explained patiently. “Dirty little girls don’t get to play until they take a bath…”
“But we’re not in a bath!” she pointed out.
I had to fight to hide my smile – my little blonde lover had become an expert lawyer when it came to consistent bathing. “A shower counts,” I replied. “You didn’t wash at all yesterday, and the day before you only did your hair, so you got all dirty. When you wash clean, then you can play with me and the other girls.” She pouted but obeyed, picking up the soap and running it over her body. Her belly was swollen as well, and as she ran the sudsy bar up and over her stomach I was struck by how it looked like she had a beach ball lodged in her tummy. I watched her as she bathed – doing a half-assed job, if I had to be honest – and wondered if I could last long enough to have her join our playtime. After all, Meg and Lillian were doing a truly excellent job with their tongues, and if I wasn’t careful I might pop off too early and cause a situation that would necessitate the pair having to wash their faces once more…
“Mister Mikey?” Paisley’s voice cut through my sexual fog, drawing my attention to her silhouette through the steamy glass. “Mister Ricketts’s on the radio!”
I felt myself frown – this was definitely not our usually scheduled time to chat, and the fact that he was calling out of the blue meant that something had happened. “Okay, I’ll be right there,” I replied. Gently I disentangled myself from both the redhead and the Latina – and it was hard to ignore their whines of disappointment, especially considering just how hard I was in that moment! – and stepped out of the shower. Paisley was there, clad only in a somewhat worn dress shirt that did nothing to hide her belly, and the pigtailed brunette smile as she handed me a towel. “Did he say what he wanted?” I asked as I wiped most of the water from my hair and body.
“Nuh uh,” she replied with a shake of her head. I noticed that she noticed my hard state, but unlike her sisters she actually exhibited a bit of self-control and didn’t instantly leap on top of me but instead merely blushed and stared. “He just said he needed to talk to you.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” I smiled as I wrapped the towel around my waist and gave the little girl a peck on the forehead (which, if her blushing smile was of any indication, she was truly happy to receive), and then slipped past the tiny little girl and into the bedroom. I had set up the radio on the desk I had moved into my lair, and as I took a seat I glanced at Nadia, Malinka and Lam on the bed. The three were in various states of dress – evidently the call had come right at the beginning of an informal pregnant pre-teen lesbian gropefest (and I only felt the faintest bit of discomfort at how normal that phrase actually sounded then!), and they smiled at me as they watched me take a seat.
“Mike, you there?” Ricketts’s voice sounded crackly and staticky – with the snowy conditions outside, I guess the winter weather was playing havoc with the reception.
“Hey, Donnie,” I replied. “I’m here. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” he said, although there was a strange tone in his voice. I didn’t have long to wonder… after a short little pause, he simply stated it. “Jin went into labor last night. She gave birth to a little girl this morning. We named her Misumi.”
I have to admit it… the news stunned me, and I spent perhaps far too long simply sitting in the chair with my mouth hanging open. “That’s…” I finally managed to choke out. “That’s wonderful! Congratulations!”
“I’m a father,” he stated in an almost whisper, his astonished voice so low that I had to strain to hear him over a wash of static. “Holy shit, I’m a father!” he repeated, his voice growing animated.
His excitement was contagious. “Congratulations!” I repeated. “What does Misumi mean?”
“It’s Japanese,” he explained in an almost reverent tone. “It means ‘pure beauty.’ She is beautiful,” he added, his tone filled with reverence. “She’s perfect.”
“How did Jin do?” I asked as I spared a glance at the girls clustered around me.
“It was rough,” he admitted. “She was in agony, and we didn’t have anything to give her beyond some aspirin to help her with the pain. But she was determined, she insisted up on it, and she made sure that she brought our daughter into the world.” He was quiet for a second, and then when he came back on the air he sounded a bit more like his old self. “She’s resting now, and all the girls are going nuts. They love the kid, and she’s healthy and cute and adorable screams like a banshee! They’re already calling themselves ‘Aunt Jenny’ and ‘Aunt Leslie,’ and they’re all excited about who’s going to have a baby next.”
“How are you doing?” I asked. I felt a presence next to me and glanced over into Paisley’s wide, dancing blue eyes. I gave the little girl a smile and slipped my arm around her waist, feeling the stretched-out surface of her pregnant tummy under my palm as she snuggled in close.
“I’m doing…” He fell silent for a moment, but was back within seconds. “It changes everything, Mike,” he said in a reverent tone. “You’ll see when it happens to you. I didn’t really take it seriously, but it does. You’ll see,” he repeated.
I glanced again into Paisley’s eyes, and felt my heart almost skip a beat as she smiled at me. A glance over my shoulder took in tiny little Lam, sexy little Malinka, and skinny-little Nadia, all half-cuddling, half-bonding on the bed behind me. In the bathroom I could hear a tiny little bark of amusement as fiery Meg laughed at something, and as I glanced through the open door I could see her, Lillian, and Rachel through the fog-shrouded glass of the shower. All my girls were pregnant, all ready to pop at any second, and in that moment I knew, I knew, that I too was going to be a father. “I’m sure I’ll see,” I replied to Ricketts. “And soon, too,” I added as I gave Paisley a little one-armed squeeze. For her part, the pigtailed brunette draped her arms around my shoulders and nuzzled the side of my neck, purring contentedly as hugged me tight.
I finally felt myself fall into an easy smile as my tension left my body. I would indeed soon see – and I realized that I was totally okay with what was to come. We’d tackle what would come when it came. Until then, I would just take every day that came one at a time. After all, time flies…
THE END
