The New Order: Chapter 2 - Bend or Break
by The Pediatrician
mg; mdom; tf; mast; viol
“This is the Emergency Management System,” a crackling, deep-basso male voice recited at the other end of the line. “A state of emergency has been declared in the city of Richmond. All citizens are asked to stay off the streets and not interfere with emergency personnel in any way. We will keep you up to date on the situation as it develops. Again, a state of emergency has been declared in the city of Richmond. Thank you.”
Through the crack in the curtains I peered out over the neighboring buildings. Overhead the sky was dark – not the darkness of an intense storm, but rather a sullen, almost annoyed gray that seemed to hang over the city. I could see a massive fireball rising into the sky several blocks over, from a nearby area I knew was the home of several gas stations and fast-food restaurants. Lights flickered on the walls of the buildings across the street, and I cracked the curtain just a little more to catch a glimpse of a police cruiser parked outside, the passenger door hanging open and the bubble lights flashing their alternating red-and-blue strobes into the area. “Hello, what’s going on?” I asked the voice quietly in a strained voice.
The caller was silent for a second, and then responded. “This is the Emergency Management System. A state of emergency has been declared in the city of Richmond.”
“Son of a mother fucking bitch,” I muttered. I dropped the phone to my side, content to let the recording drone on, and leaned close to the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. A quick flick of my fingers against the latch reassured me that it too was locked tight – but as I was withdrawing my hand, I noticed the front curtain of a small, cracker-box house across the street flutter as another survivor peeked out. I wasn’t sure what to do… I paused, peering at the curtain, and managed to catch a glimpse of a small figure in the darkness. The figure stared at my curtain, I stared at theirs – and then, without ceremony, the other curtain swung shut.
“This is insane,” I muttered. I thumbed the disconnect button and cut off the droning recording, and stood for a few minutes trying to think. A quick glance at the screen told me that the television was still in emergency mode – no help there. Distantly, outside my apartment, I could still hear the piercing whine of another resident’s television… a noise that seemed to synchronize perfectly with the rushing water that came from my bathroom.
Christ, I’m going to have to deal with that, I thought with a grimace. I gently replaced the handset on its charger, padded into the hall, and leaned close to the door. There was a moment’s hesitation as I willed my hand to move, and then I rapped lightly on the wooden panel before me. “Uhm… Rachel?”
“Go away!” shouted a tiny, miserable voice over the shower.
Gently I opened the door and stepped inside. My tiny houseguest hadn’t even flipped on the overhead light, and the room was only lit from the sullen, angry glow from the small window above the tub. Rachel hadn’t even closed the curtain, but instead had flipped on the shower and had curled up in the bottom of the basin, a tiny pink cotton and pale flesh-ball of humiliation as the water cascaded down on her.
I stood for a moment, trying to formulate a plan of attack and failing miserably – as a middle-aged bachelor with no children, I really had little experience dealing with sobbing, emotional pre-teen girls. It was with a start that I remembered that the waterlogged form before me was not a pre-teen girl, but rather a grown woman in the body of a pre-teen girl… and that gave me a little more upon which to go.
I reached in and shut off the cascading water, then squatted next to the tub with my crossed arms on the edge. “Rachel, sweetie?” I said slowly in a calming voice.
The soggy little girl snuffled from beneath her protective forearm cover. “What?”
I was silent for a second as I tried to figure out what to say next. “Ahum… Why did you climb in the shower with your… clothes… still on?”
“’Cause my top had your spunk all over it,” she replied in a tiny, humiliated voice.
“Ah. Okay.” I was silent for a second. “Look…” I began.
“Don’t! Just… don’t.” She took a deep breath and let it out in one great guttering sigh. “I don’t know what the hell came over me out there. I’ve never done that before… I’ve never even thought of doing anything like that before.” She gave a bitter little laugh. “In fact, I always thought that even the idea of… tasting… that stuff…”
“Okay, I think it’s time that you stop,” I interrupted. I hesitantly hovered my hand over her form and then gently placed it on one bare shoulder, and she only flinched slightly. “While I may have thought about that sort of stuff before, I never thought of doing it with you. Not back the way you… were. And especially not how you are right now.”
“Really?” She raised her head and peeked at me over her forearms. “You didn’t even think about my mouth…”
“Nah,” I replied lightly. “I’m more of a butt-man anyway.” I was pleased to see the corners of her eyes crinkle slightly, and encouraged by her hidden smile I barreled ahead. “I believe you when you said that you weren’t in control of yourself. Hell, I wasn’t in too much control. But I think that… Well, whatever this thing is that’s happening, I think that it’s affected us more than we think. Like… mentally.”
“Yeah! It’s not us, it’s this thing!” She raised her head further, planting her chin on her arms as she peered at me. “All I know is that, we were arguing…”
“What were we arguing about anyway?” I interrupted as I sat on the small carpet beside the tub.
“I… really don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. “I was just talking, and you started to get angry, and I really… I just…” She trailed off, a pitiful look of confusion narrowing her eyes as she tried to think.
“I’m sorry about that,” I replied. “I really don’t know why I was getting so angry. I mean, really, we were just talking about your old life…”
“You were playing ‘amateur Jewish mother’ about my clothing choices,” she corrected.
“Yes, well, when you started to… defend yourself… I don’t know, I really don’t. I just got so angry.”
“And so horny.”
I flushed slightly at the memory. “Yes, well, that too. And the weird thing was that you just… didn’t fight back…”
“Yeah, it was so weird!” she agreed. She dropped on arm to her side and tugged the sodden pink tank down over her bare hip in a vague attempt to recover some modesty. “I knew that you were getting annoyed, and I wanted to fight back… to push you away, to make sure that I got the last word…”
“Like I assume you used to do, before,” I interjected.
“Exactly like before,” she agreed, and tiny droplets of water flicked from the tip of her nose as she nodded. “But for some weird reason, all I wanted to do was to… agree with you, to do or act or say whatever I needed to do in order to make you t… touch me.” She shuddered for a moment as she tried to reconcile the thoughts in her head with her actions. “I just got so horny when you were annoyed, and I just had to do what I did, and it was so strange…” She trailed off, letting her words hang in the air between us as we both tried to digest what exactly happened.
“Uhm, Mike,” she finally said, her gaze not quite meeting mine, “I’m sorry about… that. I…”
“Look, don’t worry about it,” I replied. I replaced a reassuring hand on her slim, bony shoulder and leaned against the edge of the tub, and this time she allowed my touch without flinching. “I don’t think either of us were responsible for what went down, so I don’t think either of us has any reason to apologize. I think we should just chalk it up to the stress of the day, and forget it ever happened.” My eyes narrowed and I peered at her with suspicion as a nasty little thought rattled through my brain. “It didn’t mean anything to you, did it?”
“What? No!” Rachel pulled away from me to the other side of the tub and waved her hand frantically. “No, it didn’t!” She paused, then grew suspicious as well as she added, “It didn’t mean anything to you, did it?”
“No!” Now it was my turn to emphatically deny something. “No, it meant nothing. It was just a momentary blip on the radar.”
“Okay then,” she said as she relaxed a bit.
“Okay,” I agreed. We were both silent for a second, and then I grinned an easy grin. “You look pretty soggy there,” I pointed out.
Rachel rewarded me with a smile. “Yeah. And I don’t have anything to wear other than this.”
“Now that,” I said brightly as I hopped up from my seated position, “is something that I can help with. Here,” I added as I tossed a bath towel onto her head, “dry off and I’ll be right back.”
I padded from the bathroom and into my bedroom, sliding the closet door open and rummaging around for a minute. As a grown man in the business world I was well-stocked in the official uniform of the corporate wage-slave… namely, suits, ties, and dress shoes. I reached in and grabbed the first dress-shirt that I could find – an off-white, button-down number that was clean, if maybe a bit on the worn side – and padded back to the bathroom. They’re too big for me now, I thought as I rapped on the door, and they’ll fit her like a circus tent. But at least she should be able to get some use of out them. “Rach?” I called out.
“Don’t come in!” she called back. “I’m naked!”
“No problem.” I slid the bathroom door open a few inches and stuck my fist through, the shirt clenched in my grip. “Here, this should work.”
There was a rustling as Rachel padded across the tile floor, and then I felt the shirt being pulled from my grip. “Thanks,” she replied. A moment later I felt something wet being pressed into my open hand. “Could you hang this up somewhere?”
“No problem,” I repeated. I closed the door and shook out the pink, waterlogged cotton tank top as I moved down the hall to the kitchen. As Rachel donned her new temporary attire and I hung the shirt from the fluorescent light overhead, I paused to stare at the newest decoration gracing my apartment. The words Cum Dumpster glittered in the light in front of my face, dancing, almost mocking me, and I involuntarily glanced toward the hall.
“Yup,” I whispered. “It didn’t mean anything.” I hoped I wasn’t lying.
The rest of the day was surreal. The muted television never returned to normal programming, but instead continued to display the emergency broadcast signal logo as the scroll at the bottom of the screen repeatedly told us to await further instructions that never came. About two in the afternoon a distant rumble shook the pictures on my walls as something large and heavy crashed violently and exploded on the outskirts of town, an angry grumble that rolled and echoed through the street below. The land-line never came back and rerouted any attempted calls to the pre-recorded emergency message, and my cell phone consistently gave me zero bars. And finally there was the eeriness outside my apartment windows – long, unsettling silences during a work day when the block should have been active and thriving, silences that were punctuated by the occasional loud crash or howl of agony.
Conditions inside the apartment weren’t much better. Even though we had “talked things out” and reached something of an understanding, both Rachel and I were still somewhat freaked about what happened on the couch that morning. I felt like a caged animal, pacing back and forth between my bedroom (where I peered out the window that overlooked the convenience store next door, which remained shuttered and dark), down the hall to the living room (peek out between the curtains to see if anything had changed on the street below), into the kitchen (open the refrigerator and stare at the meager selection, and check the phone), and then back down the hall and into the bedroom. I don’t know why I continued my “patrol,” especially considering that nothing ever changed, but at least it gave me something to do.
Rachel, on the other hand, seemed to be at a loss. She sat on the couch in front of the useless television, her gaze a million miles away and a steady army of cups of cooling tea on the table in front of her as she thought about her situation. We both very carefully avoided talking about anything of consequence, limiting our conversation to the situation (which didn’t seem to be changing) and inconsequential minutia about our previous lives. (She had the opportunity to appear in Playboy when she was younger but turned it down, and I gave serious consideration to attending an American Idol casting call in DC a few years back but decided that it wasn’t me.) Other than that, she stayed on the couch, frequently tugging my shirt down over her bare legs, and I wandered the apartment like a ghost in my baggy sweat pants and tee shirt.
Just shy of four o’clock, I had just completed my evaluation of fridge contents, shut the door, and glared at the Chinese restaurant menu hanging from the magnet. A few days only, I thought as I gnawed on my lip. That could be a problem is this thing lasts a long time. I wandered back into the living room, peeked through the balcony curtains (no change outside), and then turned… to notice that Rachel was no longer on her couch perch.
“Where’d she go off to?” I asked myself. A quick glance at the door proved that my make-shift defenses were still intact, so she had to be somewhere in the apartment. With a small scowl I wandered down the hall towards the bedroom and paused by the bathroom door, fully intending on tracking down my wayward charge and reading her the riot act for not letting me know where she was and what she was doing.
My forward momentum was halted and I paused at the bathroom once more when I heard a dull, nasal whuffling leaking out from behind the hollow veneer slab in front of me. Quietly opening the door a couple of inches, I pressed my eye against the small space and peered in… and got an eyeful of Rachel’s back as she knelt on the small rug I keep next to the tub, her knees spread wide and my dress shirt falling off her slim shoulders, her head bowed and her right elbow moving furiously as she…
Holy shit, she’s fingering herself! Even though the drape of my shirt on her body blocked me from seeing anything blatant, there was no mistaking her movements as the young blonde girl masturbated furiously. Her movements cause the shirt to slip even lower until the collar straddled her slim waist, exposing an expanse of smooth, flawless pale flesh to my goggling eyes, and a single tiny bead of sweat rolled from her neck down along her spine as testament to her efforts. The whuffling became more pronounced, became punctuated with tiny little moans of pleasure, as her movements became more intense, rougher, more violent… and then, with a strangled groan, her entire body tensed and shuddered as she came, her hips rolling against her suddenly motionless hand as I assume she ground the sensitive part of her pre-teen sex against her stiff fingers. Finally she seemed to almost collapse, letting loose her tensions in one great guttering exhalation as she whimpered and pressed her fingers against herself – and just as quietly as I opened it, I shut the door.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, my mind reeled as I tried to digest what I had just seen. My cock was rock-hard, tenting the front of my sweats like a steel shaft threatening to tear its way free of its cloth enclosure. I could hear every pound of my heart, could hear the whooshing of my blood through my head, could taste the metallic tang of fire in my mouth as I stood in front of the door, my hand still gripping the knob, and tried desperately to bring myself under control. A part of me wanted to tear the door open, to dash into the bathroom, to slam the little vixen up against a wall and make her take the gift of my cock inside of her thrashing body… but another part, the rational, adult part, insisted that that would be wrong, that me doing something like that might possibly kill her, would definitely terrify her, and make things even more complicated than they already were.
Slowly, carefully, I disengaged my hand from the doorknob and took a step back. It took you a fucking hour to talk her out of the tub this morning, my rational brain exaggerated. Do you want to send her screaming right back in? Another step backwards, and then I was quietly tip-toeing back to the living room, my breath coming in gasps, the pounding in my brain threatening to split my head wide open, a hot fire burning on my skin. “Focus, you goddamn freak,” I muttered to myself as I sat on the couch. “Focus, calm down, let it go, don’t think about it…”
Five minutes later I heard the toilet flush, the door open, and a tiny pair of feet padding into the living room behind me. “Oh, hi!” Rachel said in surprise as she retook her seat at the other end of the couch. “I thought you were still patrolling.” She had twisted her hair into a pair of adorable pigtails that flowed down her back, and her pale skin was flushed from her exertions, she smelled of soap and little girl and oh GOD did I want to fuck her so badly...
I just looked at her, my mouth hanging open slightly, as a vision of her pleasuring her pre-teen sex, of the gasping, delicate mewls she made when she came flashed into my mind, and I shuddered a bit as I forced the memories away. “So…” I choked out. “You were… in the bathroom.”
Rachel blushed deeply and broke her gaze from mine in embarrassment. “Uhm, yeah,” she said. “I shouldn’t drink so much tea, I guess my bladder is now really small… or, something…”
“Tea.”
“Yeah.”
“Right. Tea. Small bladder.”
I noticed her gaze was locked on my lap, and I glanced down… only to discover that, in my sexual rage a few minutes earlier, I had deposited a nice large amount of pre-cum squarely into the front of my sweat pants, which had soaked into the fabric to create a dark stain about the size of a half-dollar. I glanced back at her, she looked back up at me, our eyes met…
“I think I’ll see if I can see anything new from the bedroom window,” I said, my voice tight and high as I leapt from my seat.
“Yeah, good idea,” Rachel replied as she blushed furiously and grabbed the remote. “I’ll check to see if there’s anything else on any other channel.”
I exhaled a half-whistle through my lips as I stalked my way into the hallway. I took half a second to pause and glance back… only to catch the very last movement of Rachel’s head as she turned back to the television after staring after me.
Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better, I groused to myself as I stalked into the bedroom and peered out the window. Next door, the air conditioner on top of the convenience store whirred to life, but other than that nothing else had changed.
“That,” I said around a mouthful of extra-salty ramen noodles, “is a really, really bad idea.”
“I’m not saying that it’s a particularly good idea,” Rachel responded. She grasped the handle of her fork and spun it in her small bowl of ramen, winding the poor-quality noodles around the tines as she tried to bring me onboard her harebrained scheme. “I’m saying that, right now, until all of this… this stuff is sorted out, it’s something we need to do.”
“We?” I asked as I raised one eyebrow in curiosity.
“Fine,” she replied. “Me. I need to do it. I can’t live like this. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she added in a rush as she pushed back from the table and walked her bowl over to the counter. “I’m very grateful for you taking me in, and… all the stuff you’ve done for me. But seriously, do you honestly expect me to wear a borrowed shirt for the rest of my life? Don’t answer that,” she ordered as my curious expression evolved into a smirk and I glanced at her half-covered thighs.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said innocently, my face a mask of neutrality. Rachel kneeling on the bathroom floor fingering herself…
“Look, I just need… something more.” The blonde girl leaned against the counter, her shoulder blades barely clearing the cheap and gouged Formica, and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve got all your stuff here, and you’ve got your phones…”
“Which don’t work,” I interjected.
“That’s beside the point. And you’ve got your books, and your clothes, and all your photographs and memories. And what of mine is in your place?” She snorted and shook her head, sending her pigtails dancing about her shoulders as her face twisted into an adorable look of disgust. “An oversized pair of panties that’s too large for me to wear and a spunk-stained tank-top.” She paused for a second, and then sighed. “Look, I’m not asking you to come along. If I need to, I’ll do it myself.”
“Really?” I abandoned my attempt at fine instant-Ramen dining and leaned back in my chair, a dubious look on my face.
“Really. I’ll sneak out, sneak downstairs, grab some of my stuff, and sneak on back up. You won’t have to do a thing.”
“Uh huh. And what about your… little morning visitor? What if he’s been spending the entire day sitting on your couch, sharpening his hunting knife, just waiting for you to return so he can chop you into stew meat and dance around naked while wearing your skin?”
Rachel visible blanched at the reminder of why she had retreated to my apartment in the first place, but steeled herself and affixed me with a hard eye. “Well then, if he’s still there, then I guess it’ll be a short trip. But he won’t be there.” She pushed away from the counter and stepped back over to the table, planted her palms firmly on the sticky surface, and glared at me. “I’m going. I’d like you to come, but I don’t need you.”
“You don’t need me.” I sat in my chair, coolly regarding the determined blonde before me. I thought of everything that had happened so far that day, thought about the fears I felt, about the fears she must have felt, and made a decision. “You might not need me,” I said as I pushed back from the table and stood, placing my palms on the table in a vague imitation of her pose, “but you’re probably going to want me along. Okay, we’ll do it… but we’ll do it on my terms.”
Her shoulders slumped as she visibly relaxed and the tension left her body. “Thank you,” she said. She paused, and then her nose crumpled a bit as she looked disgusted. “Y’know, this table is… really gross,” she added a she peeled her palms off the sticky veneer surface.
“Do you want to get your stuff, or do you want to make a few more comments about my housekeeping?” I fired back.
“Stuff, please.”
“I thought so.” But I have to admit that I too washed my hands.
“Stay close,” I muttered softly as I crept along the edge of the hallway towards the exterior stairwell. “Stay close, stay quiet, and don’t draw attention.”
“Don’t worry,” Rachel’s hot, breathy, feminine voice whispered behind me as she snuggled into the small of her back, almost as if she wanted to climb inside my body and hide. “I have absolutely no intention of drawing any sort of attention.”
I tightened my grip around the baseball bat in my hands, feeling hyper-aware of my surroundings. I had purchased Louie several years ago for an amateur league-thing that I never really got into, and had stuck it in a closet and forgotten about thing – but in the current situation, the weight of the make-shift cudgel felt good in my grip. The light outside was fading fast, creating long shadows on the street below that almost seemed threatening in their existence. The wall-mounted sconces high up on the walls flickered as they cast sickly orange pools that did little to chase away the darkness. We seemed to be alone as we crept towards the stairwell, but neither one of us was taking any chances.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked quietly for the umpteenth time as she clung to my hips and tried to peer under my arm as we moved forward. As I felt her warm breath between my shoulder blades I tried to put the thought of her nubile form pressed against my back, of her delicate scent, and the sheer sexiness of her nude body gleaming in the light of the bathroom as she pleasured herself flashed through my brain. “I mean, we don’t know what’s down there…”
“Do you want your stuff or not?” I groused as I tried very hard not to think about her non-existent breasts pressing against my back. “Besides, this was your idea.”
“Yes, okay, it was. And I still need my stuff!” She was quiet for a second as she glanced behind us to confirm that yes, the hallway was still empty except for us.
“Okay, then be quiet, pay attention, and stop distracting me!” We crept forward another ten feet, then quietly slipped into the stairwell. Our eight-unit apartment building had been built way back in the 1960s as a imitation (or a blatant rip-off) of a faux-California hacienda, and as a result the stairs were open to the elements, a split-flight of steps separated by a small landing fronted by a rather crumbling pseudo-stucco half-wall. We slipped down the first set of stairs – or rather, I slipped down, my senses tuned for ANY threat, while Rachel remained a delightful distraction glued to my back – and paused at the landing. I glanced down the remaining set, saw nothing but the first floor hallway, and took the opportunity to poke my nose around the corner of the building to see what I could see.
“Can you see anything?” Rachel hissed.
“Quiet!” I hissed back. The street looked abandoned, as if the hand of God had come down and scooped up all the former inhabitants – which, I guess, was exactly what had happened. The dim evening light was cut by the flashing blue/red strobe of the still abandoned police cruiser, parked silently next to a pair of sedans that had collided head-on a few dozen feet from the corner. The sidewalk, which would normally be filled with couples walking and teenagers loitering in the warm late-Spring air, was totally devoid of people. There were no cars moving, no televisions blaring canned sitcom laugh-tracks, no nothing – and the complete lack of life was more eerie than anything else.
“Something’s burning,” Rachel commented quietly as she peered around my shoulder.
I took an experimental sniff and had to agree. There was a heavy, caustic undercurrent to the thick air, a harsh chemical smell of burned fuel and charred plastic – as well as a meaty smell, of barbecue left on the grill a few minutes too long. “I think that things are bad,” I whispered as I pulled the two of us back into the relative concealment of the landing. “And if we’re not careful, we’re gonna be smack-dab in the middle of it.”
“Yeah.” She was silent for a few heartbeats, and then added, “Is it weird that I’m actually starting to get horny again?”
Oh, you have GOT to be fucking kidding me… I stared at Rachel’s upturned, slightly flushed, wide-eyed, innocent, little-girl face with a look of shocked disbelief. “Yes, yes it is,” I replied quietly in a strangled voice. “It’s very weird!”
“Well, sorr-ree!” she pouted.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I grumped. As we moved down the second set of stairs I couldn’t resist adding, “When this is all over maybe you can lock yourself off somewhere and take care of yourself. Like, in the bedroom… or the bathroom…” I could feel her stiffen behind me and I smirked just a bit at the point I just scored.
The first-floor hallway was a duplicate to the one above, except for one important difference – either end allowed not only access to the stairs to the second floor, but also to the world outside. The wan lights of the wall sconces cast pools of sickly yellow light onto the threadbare carpet, but still provided enough illumination to prove that there was nobody untoward lurking about.
I felt a tug on my tee shirt. “My door’s still open!” Rachel hissed.
“Did you close it?” I asked.
“N… No, I just bolted,” she replied.
I took a deep breath, exhaled quietly, and slid forward. “Okay, that’s no problem. Just stay alert, and be ready to run if we need to.”
In less than a minute (that actually felt like an eternity) we were at her front door. I carefully pushed the door all the way open with Louie, wincing slightly as the hinges creaked just the faintest bit, and glanced inside. Rachel’s apartment was a reversed mirror-image of mine, and as I peered into the living room I saw the evidence of her chaotic flight this morning. The large, plate-glass sliding door to her patio had been shattered inward, and her carpet was littered with jagged shards of blood-stained glass that gleamed in the dim light of the evening. A broken coffee table stood in front of an overturned couch, both situated in front of a smashed television. The hallway was a dark maw that led back to the faintest of glows from her bedroom.
“Do you see him in there?” Rachel asked as she pressed against me.
“No, it looks clear,” I replied. We slowly crept inside and pushed the door shut behind us, and I split my attention between the patio and the hallway. “How are we going to do this?”
“I thought about that,” she said. The tiny blonde pried herself from my back and slipped into the kitchen, crouching before the sink and rummaging around inside the cupboard without turning on a light. “I’ll grab a bunch of garbage bags, we’ll toss everything we can carry in them, then we’ll haul back to your place. I know what I want to grab, so it should only take us a few minutes.
“Make it fast,” I said. I tightened my grip on Louie and kept moving my head back and forth. Hallway, patio… Patio, hallway… “Where are we going to have to go?”
“My tablet and phone are right here, so that’s easy.” She shook out a bag, the heavy-gage plastic snapping in the darkness. “I need to grab some stuff from the bathroom, and some clothes from the bedroom.”
“Okay, fine.” We made short order of the living room – evidently there wasn’t much there that she absolutely had to have. We stood close as we moved into the hall and, except for a rather daunting pile of damp towels on the floor next to her shower, found that there was nothing threatening in the bathroom. I kept watch as she rummaged around in the cupboards and tossed things into her bag. “What all are you grabbing in there?” I asked as I kept my eyes fixed on the glow from the living room.
“Stuff,” Rachel replied.
“What kind of stuff?”
“Toothbrush, deodorant, makeup, makeup remover… Y’know, stuff.”
“Ah.” I paused for a second and tapped my foot. “What’s taking so long?”
“I want to make sure I’ve got everything I might need,” she quietly hissed in a peevish voice.
“Well, hurry it along.”
“Okay, I’m done here,” she finally said after what felt like an eternity as she squirmed out from behind me and padded into the bedroom. “Now we’ll get my clothes, and we’ll be done.”
“Fine,” I grumped. This is taking WAY too long… “Can you move a little faster?”
Rachel grunted as she heaved a garbage bag, which honestly seemed to contain half the contents of her apartment, onto her mattress. Like the rest of her apartment, her bedroom was a wreck… sheets lay in a haphazard mess beside the bed, clothing lay strewn about the carpeting, and someone had clearly thrown the contents of a makeup counter all over the small table below a cracked mirror. “Jesus, he really did a number on this place,” I muttered as I surveyed the carnage.
“He who?” she replied, clearly nonplussed at the state of her room as she surveyed the disorganization with her tiny hands on her slim hips. Without pause she began to scoop clothing from the floor into a second bag, pausing ever so often to take an experimental sniff of random articles. A few small, lacy items evidently failed, and ended up tossed on top of the tangled nest of sheets.
With a start I realized that the mess was not the result of her intruder, but rather Rachel’s natural state of affairs. “Never mind,” I muttered as I shook my head sadly. “Just make it fast!”
“Stop rushing me!” Bag number two was filled to capacity fairly quickly, and my tiny charge started in on bag number three. One, two, three, four bras of various colors, all reinforced to handle double-D breasts, ended up in the bag…
I kept glancing behind me, trying to keep a watch on the hallway – but her bedroom window drew my attention. The light didn’t seem… right. I wasn’t sure, but I could swear that I could see the vague outline of a figure behind the white metal slats of her blinds, a figure that kept rocking back and forth. “Rach,” I said quietly as I tightened my grip on Louie.
“Quiet, I’m almost done,” she muttered. She grabbed what looked like a tiny triangle of blue satin held together with three strands of dental floss, sniffed, made a disgusted face, and tossed it over her shoulder, where it landed on the lampshade on the light next to her bed.
Now I was sure that the shadowy figure was rocking back and forth, back and forth, psyching himself up to bust in like a serial killer from a slasher flick. “Rachel, hurry up,” I said in a low voice. Fucker tries anything, I’ll clock him one…
“I said to hang on!” An annoyed look crossed her face as she turned to glare at me. “I fucking swear…” Her words trailed off and her look of annoyance changed to one of fear as I heard the nasal hiss in the hall behind me…
I had missed it… With my focus squarely on the window, I forgot to keep watch behind us. A low, feral growl floated above a pair of rushing feet, and as I turned I raised Louie to defend both myself and my young charge – but by then it was too late. He was older than I, maybe by about a year or two, but those few years definitely gave him the advantage. Six inches taller, forty pounds of muscle heavier, his dusky skin covered with scratches and gouges from head to toe on his nude form, the dark-haired boy had a crazed look in his eye as he charged. Fast and hard, his growl rising to a snarl as he bared his teeth and curled his fingers into jagged claws, he was on me before I could react. He brushed aside Louie and grasped the front of my shirt, and with an unholy power he flung me across Rachel’s bedroom, tossing my hundred-plus pound form like I was weightless. I crashed into one of the wooden veneer doors of her closet, and the entire cheap structure collapsed as I slammed into back wall, became tangled in Rachel’s adult-sized clothing, and crumpled to the carpet.
The impact of my head against a wall stud stunned me, and I could only squirm groggily as I tried to extricate myself from my frilly-lace-and-sheer-cotton straightjacket. While I struggled I watched as the psychopath lashed out with one claw and snagged Rachel by one long pigtail. I half dragged myself out of the closet as the world seemed to slow to a crawl, helpless to watch as the raging madman spun and flung the much smaller girl through the air, where she slammed bodily against one wall and fell to the floor… as he caught her screaming form and threw her on the mattress, tearing my shirt half-off her body as he did so… as he leapt on top of her prone form and pinned her head to the mattress with a palm that seemed to swallow the side of her face… as he buried his face in her shoulder and bit, his teeth sinking into her shrieking form as he tore a mouthful of delicate flesh from her body… of his hips thrusting forward and his raging erection pressing and pushing in between her slim, flat ass cheeks…
Mother…
FUCKER!!!!
The world slowed even further as I extricated myself from my prison. I don’t even recall clambering to my feet, don’t recall snatching up the bat in my hand, don’t recall charging across the room… The fading light from the slat-blinded window was tinged red as I growled, I snarled, and fell upon the crazy. He half-turned to meet my threat, his mouth falling open as Rachel’s blood poured down his chin and the hunk of her flesh fell from between his teeth, his claws coming up, and I was swinging, Louie seeming to buzz through the air as I blasted the hard, tempered wood into the side of his head. The blow knocked him off of Rachel, knocked him off the bed, and he crumpled to the carpet next to the window. But he was up in a heartbeat and charging and I swung again, low, and I heard the crack of bone as he tried to defend but only succeeded in getting his arm broken and I swung again and hit his head and he crumpled at my feet and I swung again and again and again and howled and swung and raged and there was the crack of bone and the spray of blood and glorious! and swung and… and… and…
“He’s dead! He’s dead, you can stop!” The words came from far away, so very far, and I spun and there was Rachel, her eyes wide with shock and horror as she tried to hold the tattered remnants of my shirt against her body, the wound on her shoulder flowing freely, looking scared and terrified and worried and afraid and…
“It’s okay,” she said quietly, raising a timid, gentle, tiny hand in my direction. “It’s okay.”
Wait… What?
I seemed to snap back to my senses, and the world sped back up to normal. I was aware of myself, of how my clothes seemed to be soaked with sweat, of the sheer ache in my shoulders and arms from overwork, of the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I was aware of Rachel, kneeling on the bed, barely covered by the shredded shirt she held up to her front, of the nasty, painful wound on her shoulder, of her fear as she looked at me with wide eyes…
“Okay, I’m okay,” I said, my voice sounding unfamiliar in my ears.
“My God, what… Where did you go?” she asked as she trembled before me.
“I…” Outside we heard a howl, a shriek of pure rage, and both of our gazes snapped to the open bedroom door. “Fuck, we’ve got to go,” I said quickly. I tucked the bloodied Louie under my arm and grabbed two of the garbage bags filled with clothes. “C’mon, move it!”
“I’m moving! I’m moving!” Rachel tried to grab the remaining bag in one hand, but was having trouble juggling both bag and tattered shirt. Eventually she gave up, let the shirt fall to her waist, and hugged the bag to her chest as she moved.
We dashed back down the hall, past the smashed-open glass door to the patio, and skidded out into the hall. “Wait, wait!” Rachel suddenly said as she ducked back inside.
“What?!?” I hissed. I could hear the distant sound of pounding feet, footsteps getting closer.
Rachel reappeared with a large flowered beach bag over her forearm. “Okay, let’s go!” she hissed as she skittered past me and dashed for the stairs. After a surprised moment’s pause, I chased after her, and we retreated back upstairs.
I flung the door open and we both threw ourselves back into my apartment, tossing the plastic bags everywhere in our haste to find shelter. Rachel curled up on a ball beside the couch, clutching the tattered remains of my old shirt to her body and whimpering while I quickly threw the deadbolt and wedged the chair back under the knob once again. “Quiet… Quiet!” I hissed to the cowering girl as I took two steps back and glared at the door, Louie at the ready. To her credit Rachel managed to lower the volume on her sobs to a dull snuffling which, combined with my panting and the roaring of the adrenaline coursing through my system, actually made it difficult to hear.
Fortunately, it seemed as if our flight back to our hideout had escaped the notice of the madmen running through the streets. In the distance I heard a howling of pure, unadulterated rage that seemed to echo through the entire neighborhood, and from downstairs came the shattering of glass and a titanic crash as some heavy piece of furniture fell to the ground. But there were no footsteps in the hallway outside, no roaring cries of pursuit, and I felt my hyper-alertness ebb just a hair. As I calmed I became more aware of the world around me… of the blood-stained bat clutched in my straining fist, of the ache in my temple, of the quiet whuffling of the blonde girl behind me, of the stuffy air in the apartment as I stood panting. “Okay… Okay…” I muttered quietly. “I think we’re safe. None of them seem to be following us.”
“He bit me!” Rachel sobbed quietly. “He bit me and tried to rape me!”
I turned and flipped on a table lamp beside the couch, and the living room was filled with a dim yellow glow. I threw a quick glance over towards the patio door, grunted when I saw that the curtains were still drawn tight, and decided that the risk a single light bulb would be outweighed by the benefits actually being able to see. The wan light illuminated the cowering girl at my feet, Rachel’s tear-stained cheeks gleaming in the gleam as she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a terrified gaze.
“Fuck me,” she begged in a plaintive voice.
“Wh… What?”
“Fuck me,” she repeated in a whisper. She stood and dropped the tattered remains of my shirt to the floor, standing naked before me, her face flushed, the nipples capping her flat chest rock-hard, her entire body trembling. As I watched a thin trickle of blood oozed from the bite on her shoulder and cut a slow, tiny arc down towards her collar bone, but she made no move to wipe it away. “I need you to fuck me!” she insisted in a firm tone of voice.
“Rachel, I don’t know what you’re…”
“Stop talking!” she hissed as her eyes narrowed in annoyance and she stamped her foot in frustration, an act that on a more developed woman would have caused a delightful jiggles, but on her it only made her look like a spoiled brat. She stepped in close, her green eyes hard and glittering, her skin flushed as she panted, and grasped my cock through my sweats. “I’m going crazy, I need you to fuck me, I need your cock, please…” she moaned as she stroked me.
I felt lust grow inside of me, a lust that fed off the residual rage roiling around my brain from the confrontation downstairs. I stepped in closer, towering over the little girl before me, grasped her pigtails and yanked her head back. Rachel gasped as I clapped my free hand between her bare legs and felt the heat of her tiny slit on my palm, but that didn’t stop her from tugging the tie on my sweats loose and slipping her hand down my pants. The touch of her fingers on my cock made it spring to attention instantly, and I actually growled as she wrapped her tiny hand around my shaft. The smell of her, the feel of her, the sight of her before me spiked my lust even higher, and I leaned down and drank in her scent as she whimpered before me.
“Do it,” Rachel whispered. “Do it!”
“You’re too small, I’ll tear you open,” I hissed through clenched teeth as I desperately tried to calm the raging lust wracking my body.
“I don’t care, I need it now!” she replied. She pressed herself against me, pinning my shaft between our bodies. “Fuck me, just fuck me!”
I spun the tiny girl and shoved her onto the couch, where she fell back upon the cushions with her legs spread wide. Her pussy was little more than a quarter-sized slit between her legs, a target centered in her cleft beneath a hairless expanse of flesh. I growled as I shoved my sweats down past my hips, letting my raging hard-on spring free and point at her like an accusing finger. And then with a snarl I fell upon her, pinning her to the couch as I pressed the head of my cock against her pre-teen sex.
“Yes, do it, do it!” she whined, squirming underneath me as her own lust wracked her body. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders as I gripped her throat and pressed my hips forward. At first the resistance was too great, but I would not be denied and redoubled my efforts. I felt it part, and Rachel cried out in pain as I lodged the head of my cock inside of her. “AH! Fuck!” she yelled, her voice thick with pain and lust. “That’s it! Keep going! Keep going!!!”
As if I needed any encouragement… As she rolled her hips forward, bringing her knees up to her elbows and spreading herself as wide as possible I dug my toes into the carpet and pushed, shoving another two inches inside of her. I pulled back slightly and rammed forward again, forcing a full five inches in. Rachel’s squirming helped me along, and on the next withdrawal-and-thrust I sank seven inches in – and bottomed out inside of her with another three inches of cock left to go.
“Yesssss…” she hissed as she shuddered with a mini-orgasm, her entire body trembling as I impaled her. I lay on top of her, holding her in place with my body weight as I thrust in and out of her with a wild, almost feral abandon. Each thrust slammed the tip of my prick against her cervix, and each impact elicited a muffled cry of pain/pleasure from between her lips, a rhythmic “Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!” against my chest as I fucked her. I felt her thighs tremble around my hips as she came again, her flat, almost bony body shuddering with each impact of me inside of her.
I propped myself up on one hand as I kept her pinned to the couch with the other, thrusting into her with wild abandon. Rachel curled her fingers into claws that raked my shoulders as she yanked my tee shirt up over my head. With a growl I tossed the offending garment aside and redoubled my efforts, her pussy gripping my cock like a vice so tight that I was worried that she might tear the skin off my shaft. The tiny blonde was obviously in agony, but she still gripped my shoulders and thrust herself against my prick, her insistent need just as inflamed as mine. I looked down at her, noting the sweat bathing her body, her lips drawn back into a grimace of discomfort, her furrowed brow, and our eyes met… and I knew, knew, that she was fully aware of what she was doing – and that she welcomed the attention.
And as I watched she shuddered once, twice, three times, her grunts evolving into groans, and then her back arched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she came, an explosive orgasm that wracked her body and seemed to roll on and on, an eternity of sheer sexual pleasure. Her orgasm sent me over the edge, and with one last mighty thrust I buried myself inside of her and splurted thick, ropy strands of cum past her pussy, past her cervix, and directly into her waiting womb. As with this morning my issue felt enormous, as if I were injecting her with pints of my seed, but I didn’t care… and I don’t think she did either. In the moment we were joined in passion, one creature existing in a state of pure orgasmic bliss…
And as my orgasm ended my power began to ebb, and I slipped back down to lay atop the pre-teen girl beneath me. Rachel turned her head, her chest heaving as she gasped for air, her body shuddering every so often with an aftershock as my cock continued to pulse within her overstretched pussy. “Rachel,” I whispered weakly.
“Thank you,” she whispered back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She squirmed her hips and I heard her gasp as her tiny pussy rolled around my still-stiff shaft. “This was perfect.”
I propped myself up again. “You’re… okay with this?” I asked, my thoughts flitting back to her reaction this morning.
She curled up and hugged me, wrapping her legs around my hips and locking her ankles behind my ass as she clung to me. “No, it was perfect. YOU were perfect!” She kissed my sweaty chest and nuzzled against me. “It was exactly what I needed… and what you deserved.”
“Deserved?”
She leaned back slightly and grinned, her young face looking way too young to display the post-fucking glow that it did. “You rescued me,” she said. “You were my hero, so…” Her grin grew a little wicked as she wriggled her hips again, essentially flicking the tip of my cock with her cervix as she gasped. “So you deserve to be rewarded.” She fluttered her long eyelashes and pouted, looking every bit the petulant child. “Unless you didn’t like fucking me…”
“No! No, it was wonderful,” I was quick to reply. I sat up, carrying Rachel with me as I sat on the couch, her body so light and my new body so strong that the movement was effortless, and I leaned back against the cushions as she straddled me and mewled with satisfaction as she wriggled against the flesh-plug lodged in her pussy. “And I guess I’ll have to rescue you more often, if this is the reward I’m gonna get…”
Rachel sat up, flicked her sweat-slicked bangs out of her eyes and kissed me, a deep, passionate kiss filled with adoration and promise. “Oh, don’t worry, Mikey,” she said in a low, husky voice as she pressed her sweat-slicked flesh against mine and buried her face in my chest. “You haven’t even begun to get your full reward yet…”
As she snuggled in my arms I felt a stupid smile grace my face. It looked like my complicated life got a bit simpler… or maybe even more complicated. In the moment, I couldn’t decide – nor did I care.
>>Chapter 3>>