August Moone
Book 9
Chapter 48
A Completion of Complications

You know, the first guy to discover milk probably did a lot of other weird shit
	Two little girls playing in an open front yard; cute as they could be!
	Enter a sleek muscle car, neon yellow, boss wheels, paint job, tinted windows, “mean” looking slopped headlights, and sounded “boss”, too.  The car cruised slowly around a neighborhood with the driver focusing on the two little girls.  One girl, in a light turquoise summery string top and a short-short kiddie skirt did flips, summersaults, and a handstand.  Her friend clad in a red tee-shirt with some cartoon character emblazoned on the front and matching red shorts, just run amok giggling.  When the girls saw the car they stopped their playful antics and were in awe of the massive beast.
	“Girls want a ride?” the driver coolly asked.
	Natural instinct put the girls on alert; but then he said—
	“I’m looking for pirates and their treasure—wanna help?”
	The girls came to the edge of the unkempt yard.
	“We find the treasure and I’ll split it with you!”
	Snag!
	The girls foolishly raced to the car and piled in.
	The driver smoothly accelerated down the street—and gone.

	Slipping down an alley and the driver of the cool yellow muscle car flipped a switch and then another.  One switch changed the color of the car from yellow to green and the other switch flipped the back license plate.
	The girls in the backseat were talkative and the driver, Dice Rynoldo, continued filling their pretty heads with pirate talk.  The girls were sold; their families were poor and knew that the promised pirate booty would be just the thing to make their lives better.
	Out of the alley and down a street, up a street, then out on a country road out of the redneck town a few miles just past a small grove of standing eucalyptus trees.  Dice had been there recently searching for treasure using a treasure finding gizmo.  He was searching for coins and whatever else people dropped while traipsing thru the grove.
	He found something other than coins.
	He found a unique flute.
	The flute was small.
	The flute was gold.
	The flute—was gold!
	Dice knew that the musical instrument probably would fetch a fair price at a pawn shop or someplace like that.  But he kept it—he had a gut feeling that the flute was no ordinary instrument.
	He was right.
	Into a small community where there were more actual homes rather than trailers and mobile homes from the community where the little girls came from.  Into an alley and then into a garage that was more situated towards the alley than the front street.  He had to get out of his snazzy ride to open the gate and then the garage door, then drive the car into the garage.  Once parked and the engine shut off he sighed.  Step One complete.
	From the garage there was a side door that led into the house via a covered walkway.  There were neighbors left and right but none behind or across the street.  Rickety fences on both side plus the alley fence; tall shrubs and trees lined all three sides; the neighbors on the left were elderly and the non-nosey type.  The neighbors on the right worked days.
	Dice escorted the girls into his home and got them sodas and popcorn.
	Then he fed them more tales of pirates and their treasures.
	Then into his basement where firstly he blindfolded the girls “so the pirates you wont see and they wont see you!”  then; he bound their hands “so the pirates wont be able to take you.” and then bound (gagged) their mouths “so the pirates wont hear you when we find the pirates’ loot!”  sounds legit.
	Then, the magical flute was brought to the 30ish year old’s mouth and played.  Not hardly a sound was heard—instead; a low-low mono sound that wasn’t musical at all.
	But what it did do, though, was put the girls in a sort of trance.
	It meant that all the gagging and binding wasn’t overly necessary.  But being the paranoid type, Dice gagged and bound them anyways.  Insurance.  Another sigh and he sat on his folded knees looking at the girls more closely.
	The basement was a man-cave; a work in progress.  A long process.  The walls were finished, new carpeting, sparse furnishings, a mini bar and a pinball machine and a few lights.  That was it.  A pool table was planned, some paintings, animal heads (bear, boar, rhino, etc.) a jukebox and so on and so forth.  Man-cave.
	The girl in the short skirt who had been doing handstands revealing her nice pink panties was Carrie Itchie.  She was a mere six years young, bright-bright blue eyes, blond-blond hair tied back in a loose ponytail with heavy bangs—in need of a slight trim.  She stood absolutely still—not even moving, shrieking, or crying when Dice tugged her panties down.
	Fondling her ass and…nothing.
	The blindfold was removed—slowly.
	He stuck his tongue out at her and waggled it.
	Nothing.
	Off came her panties; off came the skirt and the shirt.
	Nothing.
	He fingered her pussy.
	Nothing.
	He fingered her pussy more.
	Nothing.
	Pressing his lips to hers he squeezed her ass, fingered her pussy, then hauled out his cock taking her hand to it to please him in a masturbatory way.  The girl merely breathed and Dice was satisfied.  Laying her down on the cushiony carpet he spread her legs and went down on her licking her delicate poon to his delight.
	Sperm was leaking from his pud; he smeared the spunk matter on the child’s cunny gouging her slit until he was just about to make entry.  He stopped himself from that deed and merely humped until ejaculating.  Then he smeared his spunk into the slit before undressing her friend, Beth.
	Morals?  Never heard of him.  Dice creamed on both girls; humped their little slits and seriously-seriously poked and prodded them before straddling their chests and going off into their mouths.  Then he spanked them before attempting sodomy.  That was a no-go but he enjoyed trying.
	The flute.  He was marveled at how well it worked.  Previously and he had discovered the flute’s magical abilities while sitting at the movieplex in town.  While sitting on one of the cement picnic tables by the water fountain he noted some hot teenage girls.  He was twice their age but he looked younger, in his twenties.  He wasn’t so “dashing” as his car so he needed a little help “swaying” hot girls to hang with him.
	For a time and he thought that the flute was plugged up—but he could see thru it so that wasn’t it.  There were some holes, a gold string tether, and some odd inscriptions one the bottom.  He found that since it didn’t “play” music so well, or maybe it was him, just having the object would probably be draw enough.  Of course, when the girls came over to him one had to ask “Can you play it?”
	‘No.’ but that wasn’t going to stop him.
	He tried—and cringed when only the low-low notes came from the flute.
	The girls, though, didn’t laugh or make a sound one.
	The one girl, Daphne, with flaming red hair (and lots of it) was leaning in, hand holding some of that flaming hair out of her face—and frozen like a pillar of salt.  The other girl, dark hair, was close by and equally frozen.

	Dice looked to them, “Hello?” he said.
	Nothing.
	A minute passed and still—nothing.
	Around them and the movieplex was letting out; there were shops lining both sides of the open courtyard. There were smells aplenty; barbeque and Chinese, Mediterranean, and popcorn.
	Carefully, slowly, Dice put his hand on Daphne.
	The girl reacted with a sudden startle.
	Not good.
	It was a learning experience.
	And twice more he tried the same thing learning more and more but not quite the whole bit.  He managed to get the Subject mindless so to speak but that was all.  As soon as he “touched” the Subject she awoke with a startle and a glare at Dice.
	It took a lot of time, months; a lot of trail and a lot of error before stumbling on a tune that did more than stun the Subjects.  A bit of a fanciful Irish jig seemed to do the trick.  It was tricky to master; the more the tune was played the more the Subjects were “stunned.”  
	Armed with new enthusiasm he struck out to do some immorality.

	The Dice Man wasn’t much into “women.”  They were problems; they came with baggage, strings attached, wanted something out of a relationship (like money).  Some women were just screwed up, psycho matter and just not worth the bother of maintaining.  Teenage girls—iffy.  Some were scatter brains, some had boyfriend problems, relationship problems, parental unit problems, and a long list of “other.”
	Girls, pre-teen, much easier to deal with—and armed with the magic flute much easier to acquire.  And being the pervert that he was—he liked ‘em young!  And it wasn’t so much the thing requirement to make vaginal or anal penetration; humping on their slit, on their face, in the mouth got him off just as much.
	Sighting in on a little girl with a terrific little butt got his juices flowing.  She, though, not alone—there was a boy with her—her brother.  The girl herself was about six, the boy about a year older and they both were with their mother.
	The mother, kinda tall, lots of blond hair flowing, slender build, early thirties, nice ass.  With the magic flute there was no pursuit of a “relationship.”  Dice had found the tunes of Rachmaninoff mixed with a fanciful tune of an Irish jig, the Washerwoman, did the trick of subduing the Subjects one-two-three.  He still marveled at how that worked.
	Noting that the family didn’t get into a vehicle after exiting the movieplex he followed them across the street and into a neighboring housing complex.
	Only when the family reached their front door of their single story abode did Dice make with the flute.  Had he his ride he might have gotten them and taken them to his abode.  But he didn’t.  The family entered their home with Dice right behind them.
	With no car in the drive, a nice rock on the woman’s finger, portraits of the family on the wall, there was a “daddy” presence—but he wasn’t “present” at the time.
	The magic flute wasn’t an EMAD; it might have been but Dice hadn’t acquired explicit knowledge of such.  All he knew was that it put people in a trance; a deep trance so deep that they were totally unawares of what was happening to them.  The other (if any) idiosyncrasies of the flute would just have to remain hidden and undisclosed.
	No matter.  Dice took the family into the mommy’s bedroom where he assessed his options; the mommy (Shelly) or the kids Mindy-Conner.  The mommy, Shelly, wore a nice outfit of a simple top concealing a nice set of 32Cs; lovely blond hair that was semi styled and long to just passed her shoulders.  A funky bellbottomed pair of off-blue slacks concealing a nice set of bodacious booty.
	Down came the slacks.
	Nothing from the woman.
	Noting such Dice slid down her panties (off-pink.)
	Standing before her he fingered her pussy.
	Nothing.  No gasp, no widening of the eyes.  Nothing.
	Embracing the near naked woman he caught a whiff of her perfume; it was nice and enthused him.  Off came her top and bra.  Then he positioned her on her bed removing her slacks and panties from her ankles.
	A nice modern bedroom; lots of pictures of the family and the extended family, simple furnishings (but good quality.)  Keeping just out of sight he closed the curtains and drapes then undressed himself.  He eyed the little girl, Mindy, and before going to her mother he waggled his cock before the little girl’s face.
	Nothing.  It was a marvel.
	Onto the woman who was way beyond his usual age range; he wasn’t a titty man but she had some nice knockers.  Dice’s preference was teenage titties and little girl asses!  Her pussy was trim but he didn’t go down on her—he went in dry!  There was a little pre-fuck introduction; gliding his cock up and down the slit before plunging in.  It was good to fuck pussy that was fuckable.  He reeled in the penetration and tried to take his time—that lasted about a minute.  Slow progress in the process until such a time as there was the need to speed up.  The woman’s titties perked up and Dice found himself sucking them.

	Dice entered into a magical world of sexual bliss.  So much so that his asshole clenched, toes curled, and world was rocked.  Indeed, there WAS something to say about fuckable pussy.  Orgasm came doubling his appreciation.  He pumped hard with much vigor squirting a very generous amount of jiz until he was well drained.  Sitting back he watched as he cum oozed out of the woman’s cunt.
	Teenage girls were on his list.
	First, though—
	Mindy.
	She was six years young; very pretty, wearing jeans and a blue shirt with a cartoon character on the front.  Pants down and there were basic white panties to greet him.  Panties down and there was a nice virgin pussy to greet him.
	Naked and the child was laid out on her mother’s bed.  Her legs were spread and here Dice went down on the young girl licking her pussy until he was well enthused again—his cock specifically.
	Normally and The Dice Man didn’t penetrate such young girls.
	Normally.
	This time, however—
	But just the head.  He fingered the girl’s cunny plus her equally virginal asshole then poked steadily his cock to those two virgin holes until he managed to get the head of his dick into the girl’s cunt.  He strove to make a bit more entry; it wasn’t easy but he didn’t care.  He pumped and drove his cock a little further in before just pumping with only half his cock in.
	When he came his juices kind of helped make a little more entry.
	Then he tried for her asshole but that was too tough—too tight and his dick too shagged out.
	The boy, Conner, was stripped of his clothing and Dice played with him, too.  Mostly fondling, fingering, and trying for anal penetration.  A no-go there but he had fun trying.

	After the family he returned to his ride in the parking lot and contemplated his next move.  There were lots of teenage possibles but they weren’t alone and he couldn’t easily cull them away.  At a nearby pizzeria he watched a group of girls and was denied access as well.
	That was when he went cruising and found the two little girls that went on a pirate treasure hunt with him.  Still reeling from almost fucking Mindy he did so with Carrie and Beth making a bit more penetration than with Mindy.  He kissed on them, spanked them, fingered their bung holes, attempted bung hole penetration, then settled for out and out fucking.
	Afterwards and it was time to trade them in.
	The hospital parking lot was his first choice—but there was too much activity there.  Cops and television reporters all over the place.  Not a good place to dump the girls.  He didn’t feel comfortable dropping them off anywhere else in town—so it was back out on the country road and back to where it began.
	The grove.  The grove of eucalyptus trees where he first found the flute.

	The girls, butt naked, were “pushed” to the direction of the redneck village of mismatched mixmatched assorted trailers and other hovels.  Dice himself amscrayed thru the grove of trees coming up on a strange sight; a dwarf (er, midget/Little Person) sitting on a partial brick fence.
	“Have you seen my golden flute lyin’ around?” he asked in a thick Irish voice.
	Dice was taken aback, gulped, sweated, and was all kinds of guilty.
	“Uh, no.”
	The Little Person, clad in typical Irish wear, complete with green top hat, 
	“Try as you will, and try as you might, who steals me golden flute won’t live through the night!”
	Dice blurted a hearty “FUCK YOU!”
	The little Irish dude seemed to know Dice had his flute.
	“Give it back you hear!  Or I’ll rip off yer ear!  (and make a boner wrapper out of it!)”
	Dice backed up; was this guy serious?  The dude was barely four feet tall!
	“Whattya gonna do, little man?  You aint shit to me!” and he started to walk on (but going around the weird little man.)
	The “weird little man” had a twinkle in his eye and sneer on his face.  Cocking his head he made some inaudible sounds and produced a SILVER flute.  He began playing it, a Mozartian tune with a bit of a flare.
	Dice didn’t know what (or who) he was dealing with and was in a quandary about should he pull out the golden flute.  If he did, then the little man would know.  Then—
	“I’ll play you this tune, it’s a lovely sound; you shouldn’t be so cocky on questionable ground!”
	“What the fuck?” Dice said.  He had had enough of the queer little man and turned to leave him in his demented little world.  But couldn’t—his feet were mired in the earth.  All the ground around him had suddenly turned to muck and Dice Rynoldo was “sinking.”
	“HEY!” Dice exclaimed.  “WHAT THE FUCK!?”
	“My flute you have will end this calamity; hand it over and there will no tragedy!”
	Dice was pissed, confused, and sinking.
	“HERE!  HERE!” he said frantically tossing the golden flute to the man.
	The little man, Nog, looked his instrument over musing,
	“Yer slobbering lips I do not appreciate; you’re a thief and a liar!  Asphyxiate!” he snapped his fingers, mumbled some more words and the earth—the earth swallowed Dice Rynoldo!
	“Hmmm,” bemused Nog, “tragic.” He giggled, farted, then found Dice’s car.  More “hmmming” and a bit a searching the car over he found in the ash tray a joint.  Firing it up he relaxed and chilled out contemplating his next move.

*

	“I found this poor unfortunate homeless girl laying among the bins in an alley; she was scroungy looking and smelled horrible.   I knew in my heart underneath all that grime was a pretty girl.  So, I took her home, cleaned her up, bathed her, combed her hair, and as I was toweling her off—well, one thing led to another and we wound up banging it hard right there on the bathroom floor!  At one point I was fuckin’ her so hard you’d think she was still alive!”  End.

Nog Nuahcrepel and the Terrible Horrible Fucked Up Day
	From Here to There
	Groveswood  Woodgrove Grovewood Village  Woodtown  Woodton
	The tri-county area had small many small groves of woods, standing tall pines, cedar, spruce, and what sort that which was “wood.”  In among the groves were villages, hamlets, towns, and a parish or two.  The Bo Cephus story took place in Grovewood, the Nog story up next takes place in Woodgrove, a town just down the road.
	A bit o’ magic was needed to operate Dice’s car that Nog now had taken possession of.  Being a wee lad of 3’6, a few red cunt hairs from an even 4-foot, Nog’s feet did not reach the peddles for the brake and accelerator.  The radio was annoying as Dice’s music choice was brash and crude.  The power buttons for the windows amused Nog—as did all the electronic funny business of the car itself.

	It happened kinda fast—as most things of this nature did.  Karen Smokesgrass had hoped living out from the City and even the ‘burbs would save her family from the horrors of the City and ‘burbs.  And for a time all was well.
	For a time.  Then—
	As she hung out some laundry to air dry in the summer air a strange feeling came over her.  At first and she was nauseous, dizzy, and felt this horrible feeling of doom overwhelming her.  Then she was moving back into her country style ranch house where she met her children one-two-three who seemed equally sick.
	Then—then there seemed to be another child present.
	No, not it was one of them little people; a Midget—er, a dwarf.
	But there was something odd about him.
	He was clad in Irish apparel; the stereotypical leprechaun.
	Karen was stunned—and confused.  She wanted to say,
	“May I help you?” but the words didn’t formulate.  The funny looking Irish little person cocked his wee head and was smiling.
	“Wont you come into the house?” he said in a thick Irish accent.
	“So we can get to know one another better?”
	Karen felt instant fear and grave trepidation.  A frantic feeling overwhelmed her—but, there, too—another feeling.  A foreboding feeling.  Her feet wouldn’t move—not backwards anyways.  The birds that had been twittering now were drowned out by some sort of bizarre melodic tune she was unfamiliar with.  The scents she was used to; mint, wild catnip, sage, and onion faded—replaced by a curious new smell—or odor—she couldn’t quite determine.
	Karen’s eyes locked to the mythical creature; he had flaming red hair, long.  A pug nose, an almost grotesque face, and blazing eyes of green!  There was great fear welling in the country woman; the melodic tune began to increase in her head drowning out everything—including vision.
	The next thing she knew…
	She was naked laying on her bed, spread eagled, hands and feet tied outward to the wooden post of the four-poster bed minus the canopy.  Karen’s children, one-two-three stood alongside one side of the bed—equally naked.  The melodic tune was in the background—it was dull, listless, tuneless.  Confusion reigned supreme in the woman’s mind but her fear had been diminished.  She was still frightened but her confusion had eroded the fear.
	From Nog’s point of view—all was going just fine.
	Naked Albert, just turned thirteen, was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a roomful of rockers; nervous as a whore at church (making eye contact with the deacon she was with the previous night!)  As nervous as a nun at a nudist colony; your mom at parent/teacher night when she notices your teacher from the strip club…
	Sure, he had seen his sisters naked; sure, he and the sisters had engaged in “touchy/feely”.  Sure he jerked off thinking of fucking them.  But that was between he and them; private.
	“Do you FINGER your sisters?” Nog asked.
	It was clear that the boy didn’t want to answer—leastways, not in front of his mother.  The boy breathed hard and couldn’t understand how he was not able to run away.  He was still confused on how he and so “willingly” stripped off his clothes.  Then, of course, there was his naked mother on the bed.
	How the hell did THAT happen?
	Albert answered that he HAD seen his mother naked a few times.
	He had been spying.
	“Did ye play with yer dick while watchin’ ‘er?” Nog wanted to know.
	It was a struggle to keep that tidbit of information to himself but Albert finally blurted “YES!”
	Nog chuckled.  His sisters seemed mortified; but that could be from being naked with their brother, their naked mother on the bed, and the bizarre invasive questions being posed to them—and they unable to hold back answering truthfully.
	“Ever SUCK yer brother’s bone?” Nog asked of the oldest girl, Mary.
	The fifteen year old with incredible blue eyes, incredible blond hair that was long and loose, soft eyes, soft facial features, a great smile, and a great body when naked, looked petrified.  She slowly-slowly shook her head that she hadn’t.
	The girl was absolutely mortified when the leprechaun asked of her if she had given head to a boyfriend, ever fingered herself, and if ever she had fingered her sister.
	Mary was too stunned to answer—but Laura blurted right out,
	“YES!”
	Mary was once more mortified.
	Nog chuckled, then farted.  The noxious fumes were powerful, potent, blinding.
	“Give your brother a suck job.” Nog said in a commanding low voice.
	“Suck his cock—suck it now—or me and my magic flute will turn ye into a big—fat—cow!”
	Whether or not he could turn her into a big—fat—cow, Mary wasn’t taking any chances and went to her knees taking her brother’s cock into her mouth.  The mother laying tussed up in the bed was horrified.  More horror was to come.

	Karen watched in horror as her children preformed various sex acts as well as heard their admissions of sexual misdeeds.  Mary admitted (under duress) that she had sucked her boyfriend’s cock.  Once.  She wasn’t sure about it (whether or not she liked it and if she would do it again.)  Mary also admitted to fingering herself AND her sister, Laura!  The two often shared a bed and did so naked!  The admitted also as well too that she often watched her brother Albert fingering himself.  The three Smokegrass children all engaged in the typical sibling touchy-feely—mutual masturbating (fingering).
	Albert James Smokegrass did-did-did very much infacto want to FUCK FUCK FUCK his sisters—Mary and Laura.  There was a third girl, asleep in her bed for her afternoon nap—she was three.  Albert wasn’t interested in her.

	Touch and feel was the only thing the girls were willing to go with their brother.  Albert wanted to go more—a lot more.  He wanted to “touch” the girls with his dick against their butt, pussy, mouth, titties, etc.  Laura was actually kind of sort of willing to let him but Mary forbid it.
	“It could lead to something.” she stated.  True.
	So, other than his hand, his sisters’ hand, there was his bed to fuck, his pillow, his best friend’s butt cheek, sisters panties, mother’s panties…
	… … best friend’s butt cheek?  Oops!
	Sisters panties?  MOTHER’S PANTIES!
	Nog chuckled at the divulging Albert.  He was crying—but had a significant boner as Mary preformed excellently on his cock.
	“Time to take care of that magnificent boner,” said Nog, “get on the bed—FUCK YER MOTHER!”
	Albert resisted.  He had no intention of fucking his mother—well, not if she weren’t willing!  But as the boy tried to resist a drowning tune invaded his mind causing him to black out.  Mary and Laura heard the tune, too, but were not so effected as was their brother.  They watched in horror as their naked thirteen year old crawled onto the bed and positioned himself between his mother’s legs and entered her.  Pumping began and the girls were mystified.
	His first sex.  Actual sex.  No pillow.  No bed.  No best friend’s ass cheek.
	In his mind, though, the image of his mother was not quite clear.  It was all about the pussy.  All about fucking.  The “who” was not so important.  That came when after he had cum and his mind was freed.  The dark foreboding clouds that had clouded his mind, the horrible deafening “classical” music that had roared in his mind all evaporated allowing him to see his dear sweet mother.
	The sudden realization of what he had done gripped the boy.  He gave a final jut of sexual love then collapsed on her heaving, sweating, begging forgiveness.
	“It wasn’t all THAT bad now, was it?” Nog asked of Karen.
	‘Fuck you!’ was Karen’s first sentiment.  Then, “No.”
	Albert then was directed to “move up” his mother and place his cock between her very nice mommy titties.  Young Albert was horrified but when the music and clouds began to formulate once more in his mind—he moved.
	“Now, milady, suck—his—dick!”
	Karen was more than horrified.  More than disgusted, sickened, dismayed, and so on.  But like her son, she was “compelled” to perform and SUCK her son’s cock (fresh from cumming in her pussy) was a done deal.
	Mary and Laura were visibly upset, holding hands, naked, crying.
	Nog looked the girls over—Mary noticed and was horrified herself.
	Nog smiled—an evil smile.  Mary didn’t like it.

	When Albert had been sucked on for several minutes he got off his mother and stood opposite of his sisters.  Nog “magically” directed to lay across her mother’s stomach and to take her brother’s nut sac into her mouth.  Nog delighted in watching the children carry out his diabolical plan.  Laura fussed but engulfed her brother’s fuzzy nads and sucked-sucked-sucked.
	“Now that’s a neat trick!” giggled Nog, “Now for you, my dear child so sweet, go down on yer sister—like her neat!”
	Mary hesitated—er, tried to.  A compelling force forced her to her knees and another pressed her head to her sister’s bald cunt.
	“Lick her pussy, lick it quick!  Or you will wrath me and get the stick!”
	Mary saw the little man’s Irish stick, the shillelagh.
	Mary “went down” on her sister’s cunt licking it for several minutes.
	Laura oohed and ahed as she continuously sucked-sucked-sucked her brother’s balls.  Her legs flailed about, she bucked, and at length—came.  Not a lot but it was an orgasm just the same.  Mary (on her own) had begun fingering her sex and towards the end of her sisterly loving she seemed to be getting into the deed.
	Albert came around sliding his throbbing hard cock into Laura’s cunt.
	Mary hadn’t moved back so her view was spot on seeing Albert’s cock going into Laura.
	“Play with his balls!” commented Nog.
	Mary clutched her brother’s sucked on balls and marveled at the up close and too personal viewing of sex in progress.
	Albert went three minutes before cumming.
	Laura was a virgin—as evident on her brother’s cock.

	Mary took her turn laying across her mother’s body as her sister had; and, as her sister had she suckled on her brother’s balls.  But instead of Albert coming around to fuck Mary like he had had with Laura—it was Nog!
	The naked leprechaun had an amazing pronounced cock—making up for his diminutive size.  Mary was unaware of Nog’s doings and was freaking out about it—but had her brother’s testicles in her mouth and a “force” overwhelming holding her down.
	Nog and his amazing seven and a half inch cock entered the fifteen year old and “rocked her world.”  It was to say that Nog’s world was equally rocked.  For Mary, her cunny instantly became excited and came within the first few thrusts.  She wasn’t sickened but horribly-horribly incensed.  Then the sensations of orgasm filled her, consumed her.  Her cunny vibrated in a manner she did not know possible.  Nog fucked slowly at times, sped up, then concluded with a marvelous thrusting that reached a pivotal crescendo unknown to man.
	With a throbbing/aching hard cock, Albert James entered Laura’s cunt.
	The boy’s eyes fluttered; so did his heart.  Natural instinct took over and the just turned teenager began to fuck like there was no tomorrow.  Laura grunted, wept some, then found that getting laid wasn’t so bad—even if it was from her own brother.
	Mary wasn’t the same.  Her cunny tingled and she was “lost” with a glazed looked over her face.  Nog chuckled and slid his lengthy schlong into Karen driving her into an equal euphoria.  Which was good ‘cause then she didn’t fully comprehend when her young daughter, Laura, confessed to “taking it up the ass” by her dad.
	By her dad!
	Daddy Smokesgrass was on a construction site in a neighboring city.
	Occasionally and did Laura get into trouble; fibbing mostly.  A broken window from an errant pitched baseball.  Back talking, chores not done, and other common offenses; fighting with siblings mostly, got her marched out to the woodshed behind the house where she stripped off ALL her clothes, got on ALL fours, and received swatting.
	Just a few swats; enough to turn the girl’s pert little ass a bright shade of red.
	Then, butt fucking.
	Daddy Smokesgrass rammed his daddy dong into Laura’s cornhole and had a grand ole time doing so.  But that was all; no vaginal, no oral, not even by hand.
	And Mary?  She was the good one; got good grades at school, played guitar, sang, could recite several passages from the Bible, did her chores, and so on.  She didn’t get butt fucked—she got fingered!
	She also gave her daddy a handjob!
	In turn, he spanked her ass—she liked it!
	Nog was impressed and put it to Smokesgrass children to carry on with their dear daddy—to give him handjobs, blowjobs as well as spread their cheeks and legs for him.  Albert excluded from interactions with his dad; but he would engage sexually with his sisters.
	Including the littlest one, Carrie!
	Nog emptied his load into Karen and then put Albert into fucking Mary.
	Nog smoked a joint and continued to weave his fantastic magic to the girls on how they were to please their daddy.  Karen was in a world to her own; she was to have a sexual relationship with Albert.  More weaving of his incestuous web put it to the family that what they did within the walls of their quaint home was perfectly alright.
	With that, Nog released Karen from her bindings.  Mary and Laura were fucked silly and lay in a swath of sex sweat with their young minds frapped.  Albert was taken to the bedroom where little Carrie lay…
*
bronntanas de bhuachaillí
(nay, not a misspelling; it’s Gaelic!  “A gift of boys”

“Bring boys for the Lady” the text message read.  Nog nodded his head musing,
	“I can do that.” he chuckled and put Dice’s ride in motion.
	And by the end of the business day he arrived at the Agency in the company of seven young boys!  Seven!  While the new arrivals were being introduced to the others in the Introductory Room, Nog visited the Fallen Dragon Lady.
	Two tall guards guarded the door the Lady’s private quarters.  Nog gave the two guards the eye.
	“I was invited.” he said in a determined don’t-fuck-with-me voice.
	The guards nodded; they were clad in an all-black sheen leather outfit exposing their titties and cunnies.  Nog knew that they were dangerous—but so was he!
	The door opened (without the guards moving) and Nog nodding to the guards made his way winking to the guard on the right conveying,
	“And maybe Nog will be invited to visit you later on!” he smiled, tipped his hat and brushed the tip of his shillelagh to the guard’s bald naked cunt.  Nog entered into the Lady’s quarters.
	The guard whom Nog had winked at—and touched with his stick, conveyed to the other “That’ll be the day!”
 
You ever think that Pavlov sitting at a café and hears a bell and suddenly jumps up shouting “Shit!  I forgot to feed the dog!”

The Agency
	There were other Agents of the Agency suppling requests for the visiting Fallen Dragon.  Other than outside Agents Sergei “Knuckles” and Nog there was this lovely individual—
	Taking a long drag on his cigarette his eyes narrowed as several Prospects got his attention.  The day was nice in the City Park; there were drifting clouds of the non-threatening kind, the air was cool, the trees in the park plentiful.  A small group of teens sat under a tree with one playing a guitar.  Not far from them some young girls tumbled, flipped, flopped, and tumbled some more.  Further away and some teens were engaged in a volleyball game, a soccer game was going on at the far end of the park.
	What caught Michael Pundsum’s attention was the teenage boy in the company of a young girl—qu ite possibly his little sister.  The little girl was all about running off to play—the boy was all about chasing after her.
	Michael Pundsum watched the pair closely.  His mind drifted.  It wasn’t so long ago that he himself was chasing after his little sister.  He missed her.  He missed his mom.  A few weeks after joining the Agency he said glumly in the Agency suburban house “lost in thought.”
	“Something I can do for you maybe?” Agent Chuckles asked.
	For a while and the new Agent said nothing; then—
	“Yeah, yeah there is.” It was hard to say, harder to ask; but—
	“Could you find my dad?”
	Michael hadn’t seen his dad since he was ten.  His mom never told him the actual reason he wasn’t around—he was there one day—then gone the next.  The information was passed on to the Agent with him saying “I’ll get back to you.”
	Three months and counting…
	Meanwhile back to the park.

	Ozzie noted the teen boy noting the girls who were tumbling, flipping, exposing—and young.  Michael “Ozzie” Pundsum also noted the teen boy gouging the heel of his hand to his groin in obvious distress.  He was a nice looking teen boy and probably should have a girlfriend.  Probably.
	The little girl was probably his little sister or a girl he was babysitting.
	She was awfully friendly, though; after dashing about playing with the other girls she ran back to the teen boy plopping on his lap.  The boy looked around and seemed somewhat “nervous.”  The little girl wore a short-short blue skirt and as she sat on the teen boy’s lap—a lot of revealing intrigue was revealed.
	No panties!
	Ozzie’s keen eyes got a crotch shot and was immediately more intrigued than before.  Of course, there were lots of reasons why such a young lassie wasn’t appropriately attired; she wet ‘em, she ditched ‘em, the teenage boy whose lap she occupied shucked them.
	Sitting on a park picnic table bench facing the playing kids Ozzie watched as carefully the teen boy ran his fingers up and down the little tyke’s legs.  Had there not been so many kids playing so close by and the teen boy was likely to have fingered the girl.  Likely.
	Then Ozzie noted the boy seemingly simulating “humping.”  As the child sat on his lap he “humped”.  His cock was supposedly tremendously hard (but still tucked away out of sight.)  The little girl suddenly bolted from his lap racing to play with the other children leaving the teen boy in an obvious agonizing plight.
	The boy crossed legs and watched the little girl—and the other little girls.
	To make matters worse; the little girl brought over “a bunch of little girls”.
	All chattering trying to get him to play with them.
	Ozzie was sure that the young teen sure did want to!
Fun in the park
	“Hi!” said Ozzie cheerfully.  He wasn’t usually the cheerful kind but sometimes he made an effort.
	The teen boy, Sam, was a little startled and offered a meek “hello” in return.
	Another day in the park another sunny day and hard ache for illicitness.
	The boy sat on another picnic table watching the little girl, his sister.
	There weren’t too many other kids in the park that particular day.  No reason; there just wasn’t.  The little girl once more was clad in a short-short skirt; yellow this time.  Panties?  Remained to be seen.
	Ozzie leaned against the wooden table noting the boy being a little nervous and/or suspicious.
	“There’s something you should know.”  Ozzie said slyly.
	“Yeah?  What’s that?”
	“I saw you the other day.” And he showed the boy a picture and then video from his cell phone.
	Sam Jammerson lost all color in his boyish face.
	“Oh shit!” he exclaimed.
	“It’s ok,” Ozzie said calmly, “I like it—and I have some friends who like stuff like that, too.”
	Sam was confused.
	“These friends pay money for stuff like this.”
	“M-money?” Sam asked taking his attention from his playing sister.
	“Yep.” then, “Interested?”
	“I-I guess so.” then, “Wh-what do I have to do?”
	Ozzie chuckled a little then showed the boy some pictures and videos of young girls—naked, playing Twister, laying down with their legs spread, all around five to seven years young.
	Sam “creamed his jeans.”
	“We can start with two twenties and a ten spot.”
	Sam was speechless.
	“And all you have to do—is bring her over.”
	Sam called for his sister, Cheryl.  The little girl hopped over; she was as cute as could be; long strawberry blond hair tied back in a lose flopping ponytail, chubby cheeks, bright brilliant bright blue eyes, long bangs, and out of breath from playing so hard.  Up on her brother’s lap she went—spreading her legs unknowingly and unwittingly.
	Ozzie captured the moment on the cell phone (and noted that once again—no panties!)
	The boy looked petrified.

	Ozzie smiled and showed him the capturing on the cell phone then handed him the fifty dollars.
	“It gets better.”
	Sam licked his lips.  “Yeah?”
	“Do you play with her?”
	Sam shrugged, “Yeah.” But that wasn’t what Ozzie was implying.
	“I mean, do you give her a bath, dress her, wipe her?”
	The boy lost color again and looked almost ashen.
	He answered, though, “S-some-sometimes.”
	Leaning close and locking eyes with the thirteen year old,
	“Do you finger her?”
	Sam wasn’t naïve and knew what THAT implied.
	Breathing hard, licking his lips, he was about ready to bolt.
	Then Ozzie produced another twenty dollar bill.
	Sam nodded that it was so—along with bathing, dressing, and “wiping” he also fingered.
	“Just your finger?” Ozzie asked.
	Again, the boy was ready to bolt, but he nodded very-very slightly Yes.
	“Excellent!” smiled Ozzie—and handed over the twenty.
	“And lastly, have you put your wee-wee against her?”
	Sam couldn’t breathe.
	Ozzie showed him ANOTHER twenty.
	Sam locked eyes on the money; Cheryl wriggled so on his lap seriously exposing herself.  Sam nodded No.
	“Would you like to?”
	Sam paused.  Paused.  Paused.  Then looked like he was ready to cry.
	He nodded Yes.
	“I’ll give you a ten, then fifty more if you do so now.”
	Sam nearly fell faint.  That would be $150!
	Looking around—and no one around,
	“Here?”
	Ozzie looked around; the park wasn’t busy but there were peoples about.
	Leaving the table they walked to a garden shed that was seldom used due to city budget cuts.  Inside and the small wooden shed was a bit musty, dusty, and homey.  A window in the rear was opened for air; two other windows on the sides were closed and grimy.  The door itself was rickety and had a window; also grimy.
	Little Cheryl was placed on an old soda freezer and none the wiser for the antics that ensued—like her stripped summery string top being removed along with her short-short skirt.
	Now,
	“Now, give her a lick.”
	Sam leaned in to kiss-lick his sister’s face.
	“Between the legs!” dumbass.
	It took five seconds before the boy applied his tongue to where his sister peed from.  It was his first time and he had never-ever heard of such a thing.  And he didn’t know if whether or not it was gross—or thrilling.  He licked, lapped, licked, and ached.  Ozzie noted the boy surreptitiously gouging himself.
	‘take your pants down.’
	Sam didn’t even pause and unhitched his pants pushing them down.
	He wore typical tidy-whiteys.  They were pushed down also as well too.
	The light from the windows (although grimy) allowed just enough light to see—to see that Sam David Jammerson had a boner.  A terrific boner!
	‘pick her up, hold her.’
	Sam picked his sister up from the dusty non-functioning freezer and continuing to follow the “voice” in his head placed the child on a nearby low flower shelf.
	‘rub your dick on her.’ then, ‘between her legs.’
	Sam paused but followed thru.  Sperm was already on his dick’s head and soon was coating his sister’s bald poon.
	‘hump it.’
	Sweating, concentrating, mind going to overload, the young boy glided his cummy cock up and down the girl’s cunny gouging into her sex.  Stroking his pud like he often times did he soon was blasting a hot load of fresh spunk.  The relief was incredible.  The boy liked—a lot!

	Ozzie filmed it all (secretively.)  And afterwards,
	“Now, blow me.”
	Sam sputtered “No fucking way!”
	Way.
	“I let you mess with you sister, and I can get you other girls, older.”
	“I don’t fucking care!  I’m not that way—I aint suckin’ dick!”
	There’s the easy way—or the hard way.
	Ozzie showed the boy the cell phone and the still image of his wang against his little sister’s nakedness AND his cum spewing thereon.  The boy was petrified and confused.  More was to come.
	Ozzie pressed a button and the screen showed a text:  ready to transmit.
	“I press this button and it goes to the world.”  The world wide web.
	The boy’s mouth hung open—so did Ozzie’s cock.
	Sam shook his head—he had never-ever sucked another dude’s dick or even thought about it.  But he couldn’t let what he had done be seen.
	All the while a naked Sam sucked-sucked-sucked Ozzie’s dick-dick-dick he was captured on video doing so.  Further assurance that he would be Ozzie’s slave.  And after sufficiently sucking Ozzie’s dick the sickened boy put his mouth to his sister’s cunt—where his spew was still there.  Ozzie then entered the boy’s virgin shit hole and sodomized him.
	Sam cried as his mouth engulfed his sister’s cummy cunt.
	Ozzie gripped the boy’s soft white hips and drove his hardened prick DEEP into the boy’s turd way.  Sam made muffled sounds; Cheryl remained “mindless” and unawares.
	When the diabolical deed was done (sodomy)—
	“Now, let’s go get you laid!”

Descent into madness
	The nexus of chaos
	Opening scene:  Nancy Wrightring, thirteen, lay nakedly on her bed while Sam Jammerson jammed his cock into her virgin cunny.  All the while Michael “Ozzie” Pundsum recorded the event from the optimum view of being at the foot of the bed.  The girl was mindless; the boy was frapped.
	The EMAD Ozzie had was low-key and he had had it a long-long time.  It was actually one of the first modules to hit the blackmarket.  It was a prototype and had low key functions—mostly mind subduction.  In time, after a while, Ozzie learned how to manipulate a subdued mind.
	Subject Sam was not so much subdued as he was going along for the ride.
	And what a ride!  Although Nancy Wrightring acknowledged his existence on the Earth she wasn’t likely to get naked for him and let him sink his bone into her.  She wasn’t that way.  Long dark hair that was somewhat styled; a pert little nose, great smile, wore glasses, was poised, prim, and kept her dainty little poon neatly trimmed.
	Sam needed schooling on the proper technique of boning a girl.
	“Not cool to go in dry,” Ozzie schooled, “get her to slobber on your schlong first, then eat her out—get her cunny all wet and slippery.”
	Must be slick; must be smooth; must be slippery!  (thank you Eustis Baggs for the quote)
	And although a Subject’s mind could be subdued and then manipulated—it wasn’t always exact.  That is to say; though the mind could be subdued that was about it.  Some people were able to fend off further intrusion thus having commands send to it blocked.
	Nancy was one such so Sam had the task of undressing her himself.
	It was a slow process.  Sam had some qualms about what he was doing but was goaded into the act by blackmail and a little mind intrusion coercing him.
	With the naked girl on her knees Sam inserted his cock into her mouth and worked her pretty head back and forth.  True, he would have liked it to be on her own will but he was willing to go with the happening.  Never turn down a blowjob!
	And never turn down an opportunity to lick out a girl’s cunt, either.
	And doubly never turn down an opportunity to fuck a girl.
	Sam wasn’t too keen on licking out a girl’s pussy.  He did it and was semi ok with it—he was more of a “FUCK” guy than eat.  He marveled at the nakedness of the girl—much-much more than his wee little sister.  He fondled her titties, smoothed his hand all over her body, ass mostly.  Then slowly entered her sex.
	It was weird that Ozzie was standing behind watching; recording.  But the sensation of fucking overwhelmed the weird factor and he got busy with it.  Then, as Sam got into the girl’s groove—Ozzie plucked up Nancy’s 2-inch wide white dress accessory belt and struck the boy’s bare ass.
	“WHAT THE FUCK!?” shouted the boy.
	Ozzie smiled and nodded, “Keep going!”
	And as Sam continued fucking Ozzie continued spanking.
	At length and the boy came.  His ass was burning; the back of his legs, too.
	Ozzie stood buck naked stroking his cock; Sam caressed his blistered ass.
	The teen boy looked to the man masturbating and gulped.
	“Oh shit, not again.”
	Again!
	With his eyes closed, Sam performed orally on Ozzie and was grateful that it only lasted about a minute (more grateful that the sick fuck didn’t cum in his mouth.  Inasmuch as he had misgivings for messing with his little sister in the park’s garden shed AND the doings with Nancy—AND sucking the man’s dick there were more misgivings as the man got on the bed preparing to fuck the unwary girl.
	Nancy was HIS girl—and although he knew that she would never let him out and out fuck her he felt that he should protect her or something.  As Ozzie entered the girl and proceeded with the fucking—Sam noted the man’s cell phone on the dresser.
	Ozzie pumped and pumped and pumped; the bed squeaked and squeaked and Sam made a play for the EMAD.
	“HA-HA! MOTHERFUCKER!” shouted a gleeful Sam, “Got your fuckin’ ass now!” he aimed the Device at Ozzie but admittedly had no idea how to operate the thing.
	Ozzie whirled and flew off of the bed—cum squirting from his satisfied dick.  Luckily and the kid holding the Device was clueless.
	“You gotta set the Device,” Ozzie said, “it’s Active but on Stand-by mode, you first gotta press that little yellow light on the front face.”
	Like an idiot, Sam pressed the yellow light.
	And instantly regretted it.
	Sam was an unrecognized User so the Device reacted—by releasing pent up electricity in a surge mimicking stun guns.  There was an electrical sound, a sizzling, and Sam Jammerson lay twitching on the floor.  Ozzie gloated then turn roughly brought the twitching boy over to the bed placing his mouth down onto Nancy’s fresh fucked cunt—then spread the boy’s cheeks promptly sodomizing him.

*
Dark beginnings
	There’s a llama in my basement!
	There are worse things to be caught with:  drugs, stolen goods, someone else’s test paper, beer (if underage), and your best friend’s dick (if you’ve got a dick, too!)  Michael “Ozzie” Pundsum and his best friend, Eric, were not categorically “gay” but they  were experimental.  Clad in their skin, Michael and Eric held one another’s part that made them boys and giggled.
	Michael’s single mother and dipshit bothersome sister were out of the house; mother working and sister playing at a friend’s house.  So it was a surprise when later on that day just before the hard working single mother came home that dipshit bothersome sister confronted her dweeb dorky lame brother with the fact that she saw him and his equally dorky friend naked holding each other’s pee-pees.
	Michael was at first pissed—then concerned.
	“You gonna tell mom?” he asked out of worry.
	Sister Amy shrugged (but didn’t answer.)
	“Why were two doing that?” she asked out of unease.
	“’cause it feels good, that’s why!” he said holding his anger.
	“Just goofing around is all,” he continued.  “It feels good,” he reiterated, “don’t YOU finger yourself?” he knew that she did.
	“Yeah, but mommy caught me and told me to stop and not to do that anymore because “the devil likes it.””
	Michael made a frown, “Mommy’s full of it.” then, “Wanna play?” he gave his best smile and chided his pesky sister.
	Amy surprised him by brightening up and agreeing to “play.”
	“I like to take off my clothes in my room.” Michael said.
	“Does mommy know?”
	Michael chuckled, “Yeah, she knows; she came in on me once when I was in here naked—she never has come in on me since!”
	Amy giggled and watched her brother strip down to his skin.
	“If you wanna play with me—you gotta take off YOUR clothes, too!”
	Amy hesitated but then—then she stripped off her clothes, too.
	As soon as she was sliding her panties down—Michael had a boner.
	Talking Amy into “playing” with his cock took a little doing but she was curious.  Sure, she had seen her brother naked before (other than recently) but this was Up Close and Very Personal.
	Touching his cock led to handling and then stroking.
	Convincing her to “suck” was a no-go.
	“Ewewew!” she exclaimed with disgust, “You PEE from there!”
	“I’ll give you my allowance.”
	Hmmm  pause for consideration but still—no.
	So, when all else fails—EMAD!
	The Electronic Mind Altering Device Michael had was low-key.  Very low key.  It was a mind stunner only.  It worked obliterating the mind’s ability to know what was going on truly.  And, only temporarily.  Michael had found the Device in a cardboard box containing a bunch of jewelry, binoculars, mailbox keys, some neighborhood maps, and the Device.
	Michael knew what the Device was—they were in the daily news, at school, the mall, pizzeria where he hung out with his friends, the skate board park, everywhere.  It didn’t take a genius to finger out that that the box of goods was stolen and that “whoever” had dropped the box would probably come back for it.  Michael pocketed the Device, the binoculars, and hastily retreated to his room where he poised himself at the upstairs window peering into the alley below.
	An hour later, using the binoculars, he saw a crappy late model 60s car slowly come along, snatch up the box by the garbage cans, and leave.  That was that.  It took two weeks to finger out how to get the Device to work.
	When he did—

Dude, what’s wrong with you?
	Then, another week, two weeks, three, two more, three more weeks before Michael was brave enough to use the nifty illegal gadget.  Just possessing the thing could get one in a Federal Penitentiary for many, many years.  Many.  Plus a fine.  USING an EMAD doubled the time in the Pen as well as the fine.  So dutiful reservations did Michael have.
	Then he got over it and—

	At the neighborhood park he watched several Prospects.  All had potential.
	All but a few were teenagers.  The teen girls were in groups of three and four or more.  Some were in the company of boys.  The teens were heavy on Michael’s desire; he imagined all sorts of inappropriate things with them (with the help of the little gadget in his hands.)
	But the teen girls were complicated and he needed a back-up plan with them.
	The few little girls—
	Hmmm
	Some were not alone and were with parental units nearby.
	Some were in too large a group.
	Three were together “sneaking off” to be by themselves.
	Michael followed.
	The park in the City was somewhat like the “other” park in another City; it had a lake in the middle and a forest of sorts at one end.  The girls one-two-three scampered off to the end where the forest was.  Fearing that he didn’t have a lot of time he wasted none and as soon as he was within range zapped the girls one-two-three and found that though they were “controlled” they were not totally mindless.  They had some awareness and could follow directions.
	Michael was intrigued when he had overheard one of the girls saying,
	“I gotta pee!”
	Taking the girls a little bit further into the woods Michael sized them up.
	They were about seven—ish.  Karlie was three months away from being eight years young; Sherry was five months into her seventh year and Tiffany was merely three months into her seventh year.  Adorable girls; Karlie had short dark hair, green eyes, mostly white, very white teeth, missing two front teeth.  Sherry had blond hair, super curly cut short making her resemble “Annie.”  Tiffany had long red hair, a bit taller than her friends despite being the youngest.
	The one who had to go pee, Sherry, wore short jean shorts.  Karlie was in along jeans as did Tiffany.
	The girls were not in fear.  Whether or not they recognized Michael or not was not clear.  Nor did he care.  The girls had backpacks, snacks and drinks—they lived two blocks away and were with other girls who were older supposedly looking out for them.  Those girls were in the company of boys.  So much for responsibility.
	“Do you need to go pee?” Michael asked of Karlie.
	The girl nodded.  She was cute and terrible-terrible thoughts did Michael have about her.
	Tiffany had to go pee, too.  And Michael had the same terrible-terrible thoughts about her also.
	Ditto for Sherry.
	So,
	Standing shoulder to shoulder, Karlie was given the order to—
	“Pee in your pants.” which was met with “Huh?”
	Michael pressed a sensor button on the Device that upped the power of the Device—boosting the gain so to speak.
	Seven year old Karlie Blowngo peed in her pants.
	She made a face, almost cried, and had a face of “what the fu— did I just do!?”
	For Sherry, Michael had her take her pants down and—
	“Pee in your panties.”
	Michael’s heart began to beat faster—faster—faster as the girl did so.
	He sighed a satisfying as he watched the tearful young girl standing with clenched fists as she wet her panties.  The stream of pee so hard, though, that it peed a stream thru the off-blue undies.  Michael couldn’t hold out any longer and hauled out his fuck stick.  Then, after taking a look around for security’s sake hugged the girl, patted her ass, then slowly tugged her panties down.
	Karlie peed.  A great wetness was formed at the crotch of her jeans and Michael stared-stared-jacked off.
	“Take your pants down.” he ordered.
	The little girl made a frown and looked like she was greatly confused.
	But, the power the magnificent power of the EMAD overwhelmed her and she undone the jeans pushing them down afterward.
	Little Tiffany clenched herself—she had to pee immediately.
	Giving her the command to “take pants and panties down” didn’t work.
	So Michael did it for her—just in time, too.  As soon as her bright yellow panties were at her knees she began to pee.  Michael admired the girl peeing; it was quite a hearty piss that greatly relaxed the girl.  In doing so that freed her mind to where she was able to follow further commands.
	Starting with Karlie who was almost eight, Michael got her totally out of her clothes, laid her down on her clothes, spread her legs, and licked on her pussy.  He didn’t care about the pee he was just happy to lick-lick-lick.  Karlie giggled and didn’t seem to fret about being licked “there.”
	After getting the girl’s cunny thoroughly “wet” he fingered the girl before sliding up into prime fuck position and laid his cock thereon the child’s cunt.  He began to pump and was already primed to cum.  So he did.  He very nearly penetrated but merely humped the slit until cumming.
	There was a lot of it, too.
	All over Karlie’s snatch did Michael rub his prick in the spew.  It was then also that he very nearly made entry.  But he didn’t.  But he very nearly did!
	With Sherry, Michael DID make entry.  Just the head of his cock.  He humped her cunt but there was no explosion.  He suckled her breasts—just mere nipples.  (he also kissed on her!”
	No holding back on Tiffany.  The youngest girl by months and by the time the pent up Michael got to her he was too horny to care about her age.  His cock was hard rock hard and into her slit he went—all the way.
	There was remorse—some—regarding his actions with the wee girls one-two-three.  And fear.  Not so much as any repercussions from his diabolical deeds but the knowing that use of the Device could get worse (for him.)  He knew that using the mind altering device could lead to more and more fanciful actions that could get him into trouble.  An over indulgence of use was fretful.  It was also confusing.  He didn’t know what over using the Device could bring—trouble mainly.  He knew that just possessing the damned thing was illegal and got a User serious prison time.  But the over indulgence thing—mind boggling.  He couldn’t wrap his head around what and where using the EMAD could lead.
	Wisely he put the gadget away.
	Until that day with his sister.
	After getting naked with her and getting her to handle his cock the girl showed signs of apprehensiveness resulting in Michael whipping out the EMAD to lull her mind and make her more susceptible to his wills.  His narly naughty wills.  She seemed to be “aware” of his doings but didn’t fuss.  Up on his bed he spread her legs and “went down” on her.  He enjoyed that.  A lot!  The girl remained lulled and Michael remained enjoyed.  He licked all over her hairless pussy imagining doing same to other girls—girls his age.
	There was a long list.  More mind boggling ensued.
	After much licking, lapping, and serious fingering, Michael mounted her gliding his cock against his sister’s twat and humped tenaciously for a couple of furious minutes—all the while Amy made faces.  She was aware—very aware—of her brother misdoings.  Just unable to do shit about it.
	Michael stepped up his brotherly love shtick by gouging her young pussy with his throbbing hard cum spurting cock.  He got the head of his dick in her sex before backing off.  Fear?  Concern?  Morals?  He didn’t know but found it frustrating.  He settled for humping the virgin slit then crawled his way up her body to slap his cock against her sweet face.
	When Michael tried to put his aching cock into his sister’s mouth she clammed up thrashing her head.  So Michael pinched her titties making her scream.  Michael then inserted his cock making her suck him.  The girl cried, wailed, flailed.  The EMAD failed him and did no longer lulled the child to his will.
	There was no choice but to get angry and turn the girl over swatting her ass—hard.  Very hard.  This only caused the girl to cry louder and flail her arms and legs about more.  Michael never minded his sister’s flailing antics and abruptly fingered her equally virgin asshole.
	And he was about to fuck his sister’s fingered asshole when that nasty morality issue surfaced.  His dick ached to do her but he held off—for now.
	“YOU BASTARD!” Amy shouted.
	Fucking EMAD failure!
	In hopes of calming his sister—and that she wouldn’t rat him out, Michael forked over his allowance and then some.  But Amy ratted him out anyways.  How the conversation came to be between mother and daughter wasn’t known—but the mother went double-triple bat shit crazy on Michael busting into his room—while he was jerking off into his sister’s panties!
	Mommy came equipped with a belt and commenced thrashing her naked son furiously until—
	She slipped on one of his porn magazines and falling she tried to grab something—she grabbed his bathrobe but somehow that didn’t help.  She got twisted up trying to catch her balance and the rope belt about the robe got entangled about her neck—choking her.
	Gasping for breath the mommy choked, coughed, sputtered, and …
	Michael lay curled up sobbing in his closet.  His body stung from the blistering attack.  Several minutes passed before he crawled out and saw her lay there; at an angle.  She lay half upright with the robe’s belt about her throat twisted.
	“Mom?” he inquired.
	Nothing.
	Body still stinging he leaned against the dresser looking at her.
	She wasn’t moving.
	Her face looked desperate.
	“Mom?” he asked again.
	Gulping with fear he moved to her undoing the robe belt.
	She fell to floor—still not moving.
	“Fuck.” His mind went blank.
	Then,
	Amy.
	She was the cause of this.
	“Fucking cunt bitch!” he cursed to himself.
	Then,
	“FUCKING CUNT BITCH!” he had paid her off and she still ratted him out.
	Angrily he marched into her room finding her sulking in a corner by her bed.
	Jerking her up he threw her onto her bed and as he wailed on her she wailed for mommy.  Mommy wasn’t coming.  Michael beat his sister’s yanking her clothes off and thrashing her all over her room until finally he managed to get between her legs and fuck her.  And like with Tiffany—he went in all the way.
	When that terrible deed was done and done he sat back—not regretting what he had done whatsoever.  In fact, he was going to do her again—when the little bitch lashed out in anger kicking him;  the heel of her foot connected with his vulnerable balls.
	Reeling in pain and a lot of discomfort he grabbed his sister’s flailing legs yanking her until he managed to get her legs up in the air.  Then he wailed on her, spanking her until his hand stung too much to continue.  Still reeling and sister still flailing he pinned the girl to her bed and found himself in position of whereas his cock was against her ass.
	Seemed the thing to do.  A little rough fingering of the turd chute and he managed his cock into her hole.  There was no fear of being busted in the act by his mom.  Amy cried and cried for her mom; Michael chuckled and dramatically sodomized her until he came.
	When he got his nut and back off watching his spunk ooze out of the girl’s hole as well as drizzle out of his piss slit he chuckled and smirked.  His mind was in a blur and it seemed as though he were possessed.  The EMAD?
	“MOTHERFUCKER!” Amy blurted throwing a book at her brother.
	Michael had never heard his sister cuss like that before.  A few “hells” and “damns” but the big one?
	Ducking the book he chortled giving her the finger.
	“I’m telling mom!” shouted the girl getting off the bed.
	“Go ahead.” Michael said in a low voice.
	As Amy made her way out of the room she stopped at the door fetching a softball on her dresser.  She was a terrible throw but it hit Michael’s arm just the same.  He flew into a rage grabbing his sister as she ran down the hall.  Roughly (violently) he flung her about bashing her into the hall walls—then he dragged her by her hair back to her room throwing her onto her bed where he brutally raped her.
	His cock slammed into her pussy and there was little in the way of “pleasure.”  Pleasure this time around was not the goal.  Slapping the girl he settled her out from her cries.  His determination was the thing.  Amy flailed about but was too stunned by the aggressiveness of her brother.
	Michael fucked and fucked and fucked—pulled out and crawled up the terrified girl slapping her face with his cummy cock.
	“SUCK IT, BITCH!” he yelled.
	Amy thrashed about as much as she could refusing his commands.
	Finally, a hard slap forced her mouth open.
	But as the hellish cock entered her mouth and Michael gleefully pumped therein—Amy did the unthinkable.
	She bit down.
	She very nearly managed to chomp off her brother’s dick.  Very nearly.
	Michael flew off the bed crashing into the dresser and knocking everything off.  Then he bashed against the wall while Amy wailed and wailed crying for her mother.
	“YOU LITTLE FUCKING CUNT BITCH WHORE!” Michael yelled and charged the frightened young girl slapping her and clamping himself on her chest.  With his hands about her throat he compressed tightly; Amy’s eyes bulged and she gasped for breath.  Enraged Michael squeezed tighter—his mind a blank and in full bore more.
	At length the young girl stopped flailing, stopped gasping, stopped.
	The girl’s pretty blue eyes remained, however, bulging.
	The rage in Michael subsided and he calmed down; some.
	Then,
	“Shit.”
	“Amy?”
	“Amy?”
	“Amy?”
	No Amy.
	“Shit.”
	Shit.

	You’d think that after such a raucous rut the boy would stop.
	He did not.
	Leaving Amy’s room he leaned against the hall wall continuing to calm down.  Heavily sweating, mind in a roar, he drunkenly made for his bedroom (where his mother lay) and stood staring at her for a long time.
	“Fucking bitch!” he cussed lowly.  “Fucking bitch!” he spat rubbing his ass where she had beat him with the belt.
	With his mind a blank he rolled her over onto her back.
	With his mind a blank he pulled off her beige slacks.
	With his mind a blank he pulled off her flowery panties.
	His cock was in pain.  There was blood, there was damage.
	Off came the matching beige silk blouse followed by the bra.
	With his mind a blank he parted her legs and pressed into the cunny that had borne him life some fourteen years past and proceeded to pump.  Fondling her titties he looked into her growing cold dead eyes.  In his mind he wanted to say “Sorry” but it never formed on his lips.  He pumped slowly squeezing out some cum a few minutes later.
	Back to his sister and Michael did the same with her, too.
	“This is all YOUR fault!” he cussed her angrily.
	With his mom’s ATM card he left the house—never to return.	
	Naturally the authorities wanted to speak to him; it was first thought that there had been a home invasion gone wrong at the Pundsum home but with the missing Michael…hmmm  questions remained.
The thing about being “good” and “righteous” or whatnot is that is sounds completely dull!
	So Michael dropped his given name and took the nickname “Ozzie” after a friend said he resembled that of a particular rock star.  “Ozzie” dropped out of sight after leaving his home; he hung with some friends who helped hide him out but they, too, had “questions” about what had happened.  Ozzie wasn’t giving up the info and so relations of friends were strained.  Ozzie beat it to the City and made his way there—as a runner for various Not the Good Guys.
	Then, one evening in a not-so-nice part of the City he saw a bad deal going down.  In the reflection of a dirty pane glass window of a closed business Ozzie “just happened to see” a man in a black Mercedes aiming a gun at a man across the street standing with some other men.
	“GET DOWN!” yelled Ozzie.
	The men across the street didn’t do what they do in the movies and look around first—they dropped to the dirty sidewalk.  The man in the car with the gun pissed at a missed opportunity shot Ozzie instead.  In the shoulder.  Shit hurt, too!
	The driver of the car floored it and hauled ass out of the area as guns aplenty came out peppering the fleeing car good.  The men raced across the street with one man yelling “CAR!”
	Another black car, non-Mercedes type, roared up and Ozzie was ushered in.
	“Doc Spatter!” yelled one of the men.

	“What happened?”
	“He took a bullet for us.” quipped Agent Rocky.
	Venger licked his lips and stared at the young man on the exam bed.
	“Do we know who?”
	“Dane’s boys.” Onion supplied.
	Venger sighed, nodded his head and continued to stare.
	“This shit’s getting old, Venny,” Virus said, “they hit us, we hit them.”
	“Yeah, it’s time to kick it up a notch.” Rocky said disgustedly.
	Venger nodded, “Getting to Dane wont be easy, not now, not after this.”
	“Yeah, he’ll know we’ll be lookin’ for him.”
	“But taking our time wont do,” said Onion, “that’s what we’ve been doing all along.”
	“We’ve tried luring him out of the rat hole his holed up in but he wont budge.” said Chuckles.
	“Fake it.” murmured Ozzie.
	“What?” said Onion.

	“Fake your death, your enemies will come, wipe ‘em out then.” The boy, a mere young man, was delirious from the administered drugs, and seemed to the unwary blabbering.
	The assembled Agents paused to consider his words, though.
	Virus nodded locking eyes with Venger.
	“Yes, makes sense.”
	Venger was on a different track and needed clarity.
	“We stage your death,” supplied Onion—
	“Dane and his flunkies will come to the funeral—just to make sure—”
	Rocky chuckled, “An’ we be there to blow them away!”
	Venger nodded approvingly.
	“Top it off,” said a weakened Ozzie, “with you popping up from your casket.”
	Onion hid his smile but he liked the plan.
	So did Venger.

One more thing…
	“Found these, thought they were interesting.”
	Virus checked the polka dotted panties noting their size—small.
	Virus and Onion locked eyes with Virus slowly scanning his eyes to the now sleeping Ozzie.
	“No wallet, no ID, small wad of cash, goes by the street name “Ozzie.””
	Virus smirked, then sighed; it had been a long day, a close call.
	“And there’s this…” Chuckles handed over the EMAD.
	The two men exchanged looks.
	“Does it work?” noting the apparent age.
	“Nah, it does—but isn’t to functional.”
	“He has potential.” Chuckles concluded.
	Venger had already departed by this point—so it was up to Virus.
	“He took a bullet for us, Boss.” said Rocky.
	“He could’ve just let us get whacked.”
	“Bullet was meant for Venger.” stated Virus.
	“I think he has potential.”
	“He’s a wiseguy,” Chuckles said, “got a mouth and an attitude.”
	“Streetwise, knows his way around.”
	Virus didn’t have to clear “everything” with Venger.  He mulled a moment more then—
	“Sign him up.”  Only this—and nothing more!

Ozzie’s day out
	In the City Mall North, North City Mall, prospects aplenty.
	Too many.  Brain overload.  Decisions-decisions!
 	Two men standing (too close) got Ozzie’s attention:
	“Aye, got caught wanking to my mate’s sister’s panties.  Wouldn’t been so bad, I guess, but she was wearing them at the time!  He went fuckin’ ballistic!  Sure did make the rest of the funeral really awkward…”
	It was a joke—maybe.  The two men chuckled and then walked away.
	Armed with the latest EMAD courtesy of the Agency, “Ozzie” was on a mission—fulfill his unnatural desires and bring some of those desires to the Agency.  Along with the latest EMAD he was also equipped with the latest detector to “detect” Detectors.  Also, the latest in anti-Preventor against (EMAD) Preventors.  With that—
	Teenage girls aplenty—brain overload.  There was a fair amount of schooling for Ozzie by the Agents of the Agency; on first mission out not wise to go alone.  Select Targets of Opportunity who are alone or with one other—seldom select those who are in groups.  When on a mission for self or Agency agenda not wise to go to large venues—like the mall or even a concert of some kind.  Even parks have security issues.
	Ozzie paid no heed to those warnings.  A week after being shot in the shoulder and introduced to the Agency (and signing on as an Agent) he was “out in the field.”  He had heard about the Fallen Dragon but had yet to meet her.  He met most of the other Agents; the Agent “Nog” weirded him out.  Anyways—
	Targets—teenage girls were primary.  All were in groups of three or more.
	“If in a situation where you about to be compromised, by law enforcement or angry parents, press this button.” On the EMAD and associated Devices there was a specialty button that disabled the EMAD rendering it non-functioning and hermetically sealing it making it a bitch to open.  If the seal WAS broken the Devices self-destructed making the “evidence” non-admissible.  Making the Devices seem like simple television/stereo remote controls.  Expensive, though, each Device costed about 50,000…so destruct with caution.
	Suddenly coming out of a restroom was a young girl.
	But she didn’t “look” young.  She wore—a short red skirt, tight white top with a short red vest; blond hair done up in a tight bun with some bright red hair braids holding it in place; red shoes—high heels.  And make-up.  Lots of make-up making her look like a tramp rather than an adult she wanted to be.
	Another girl followed her; giggling, blushing, hiding behind the first girl.
	A black girl followed lastly, equally dressed as the first, equally blushing.
	All three were nigh but ten years young.
	The girls were out for trouble—and some lingering teenage boys were out to give it to them.  No one was fooled by the girls’ garb and whether or not the boys knew or not it was clear they didn’t care.
	“You girls wanna go party!?” giggled a boy about fourteen.
	“Yeah!” said the black girl, “We like to par-tay!”
	The boys went on surrounding the girls chucking out rude comments and come-ons to the point where the girls began to get concerned.  The boys closed in and the girls began to panic.
	“We got some good drinkin’ shit—”
	“Got some good smokin’ shit, too!” butted in another.
	“We gonna party hard, ladies,” said another, “so hard you’ll be walking funny tomorrow!”
	The boys broke up in uproarious laughter, grabbed their crotches, and continued with rude/crude comments with one boy getting bold,
	“What kind of panties you got on, baby?”
	“You got them Frenchie style—”
	“She look like she got them crotchless panties!”
	“If theys puttin’ on shit like this,” quipped the lone black boy, “they goin’ commando!”
	The girls were genuinely frightened—and no way out.
	Bethany Longdick, ten, blond, blue eyes, flat chested (when in normal garb) was the most frightened and she was sure she heard “get lost.”  But the message was like an echo—and from like across the hall of the mall like.
	The rude boys all suddenly had stopped making their rude comments then slowly stepped away making their way to the electronics store across the hall of the mall.
	Christine and Stephanie looked to one another with great relief.
	Then—
	‘follow me.’

	“Son says to father, “Dad, I’m gay.”  Dad sighs and looks to the other son, “What about you?”  The other son says, “Dad, I’m gay, too.”  The dad fumes, “Goddamn it, doesn’t anyone in this house like pussy!?” The daughter looks to her dad, “I do.”

	“Sign him out a vehicle.” Virus said.
	Onion nodded and brought new Agent to the Agency’s vehicle yard.
	Most of the vehicles of the Agency were panel trucks; delivery trucks of one type of another.  Mostly 1955 and 1965 trucks, some older, some newer.  No bold colours, mostly green and blue, dark colour, nothing flashy.
	“Standard issue,” said Agent Onion, “most Agents have one or the use of one.” Nog being one of the exceptions—he got around without a motorized vee-hick-el.
	Ozzie got a driver’s license and a document allowing him to be a co-driver of the truck he was to operate.  He also got driving lessons as his driving abilities were nil.  He was a quick learner and soon there on the middle seat of the enclosed ’67 panel truck sat Bethany Longdick, Christine Shortoe, and Stephanie Titlip.
	Bethany had the blond hair, Christine had the flaming red hair, and Stephanie was black having thusly black hair.  Beth’s hair was long—but for the getup she was wearing currently the hair was put up in a tight bun.  The flaming hair of Christine’s was curled and she didn’t want to alter it ‘cause it would ruin the hair.  Stephanie’s hair was long and sleek and did make her look a bit older than she was—which was ten.
	Bethany wore a short-short skirt; spreading her legs and Ozzie noted the basic white panties with a floral print and a bright pink hem.  Christine’s panties were solid blue while Stephanie’s undies were green/white stripped.  All three ‘hos were virgins.  Christine had brothers, three older.  See ‘em naked?  Yeah.  See ‘em playin’ with themselves?  Yeah.
	Christine went as far as to “touch” her brothers’ playthings and they, in turn, fingered her.  Nothing more.  The youngest boy was twelve, the oldest was seventeen.  Stephanie had four older sisters!  Bethany was an only child.
	From the mall (with the hall) he could go to the Agency or the Warehouse.
	He was closer to the Warehouse being in the City.  He hadn’t yet met the Fallen Dragon, only heard about her and that she and the Virus were “close.”
	“Boyfriend/girlfriend?” Ozzie asked.
	“Don’t bring it up,” cautioned Chuckles, “don’t bring up the Fallen Dragon whatsoever.” Or talk (shit) about the Virus or the Agency’s leader, Venger.
	“Mind your P’s and Q’s, do as your told, don’t make waves, learn the ways of the Dark Side—you’ll do fine.”
	“Fuck up and you’ll never be found.” caution-cautioned Onion seriously.
	There were perks with being an “Agent” for the Agency.
	There were also cautions.
	To enjoy the perks one must be cautious.
	“Suffering brings perseverance, perseverance brings character, character brings hope.  Hope brings joy, joy brings laughter, laughter brings the master, the master brings suffering.” Quote etched in stone inside the Agency house.
	“Read it, learn it, be it.” cautioned Onion.
	The Fallen Dragon’s warehouse was three city blocks away.
	The Agency’s suburban house was 30 minutes away.

	There was some fret; he had never met the Fallen Dragon, and the security issue of acquiring the girls.  He had the trio walk before him but still—the security cameras might see that—as well as see them go out to the parking lot and get into his truck.  The longer he lingered in the City the more the risk.  Trekking out to the Agency could also be risky.  In no way did he want to foul “farming” on his own.  He was supposed to go with one of the other Agents but that didn’t happen—he sort of jumped the gun and didn’t “wait” at the Agency.  He did wait after being assigned a standard issue vehicle but after three hours he decided to go it alone.
	“I-I got cargo.” He said into the intercom.
	“What kind?” asked a voice.
	“A vase for Cheryl and a Rain Dance Man for Natalie.” code
	There was a pause and then the alleyway roll-up door rolled up.
	Ozzie moved the truck into the warehouse bay.
	He could just see someone on the enclosed dock.  There was little in the way of lighting.  No other vehicles were in the bay.  It was dark and quiet—and creepy.
	Suddenly, there was a someone at the driver’s side door spooking Ozzie.
	“What the fu—”
	“Bring your cargo.” said the voice.  A woman?  He wasn’t sure.
	A mild case of the heebie-jeebies enveloped him.  What was he getting himself into now?  He knew very little about the Fallen Dragon—only not to cross her and that she was something of an “interest” to the Virus.
	The “cargo” was marched up the dock stairs and then into the dock office.
	It was still dark but there was sufficient light to see—somewhat.
	Two peoples were within the office; Chinese.  Tall, clad in Chinese garb of long black dresses.
	“Did the Agency send you?” inquired one of the women.
	“No, I-I’m kind of operating on my own.” A sudden grip of fear gripped the young man.  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
	“Why did you come here?”
	“Security issue, I-I felt the cops might be tailing me or something.  I-I didn’t want to risk it going out to the Agency house so I came here.” A slight pause—then;
	“Is-is that alright?  I-I can leave.”
	“In the future, clear with your Agency first.”
	“Got it.” he knew he was in trouble with the Agency.  An ass chewing for sure, whatever else remained to be seen.  He sighed and looked as sheepish as possible.  One of the women came closer; her dark hair was up in a tight bun with a wooden stick thru it to secure it in place.  She looked at the girls then to Ozzie.
	“Would you like a special room?”
	“Uh, I-I guess so.”
	Out of the office, down a hall, thru a door, down another hall, into a room.
	There were beds, low lighting, nothing else.  No windows, one door.
	“A bathroom is across the hall, door will be open if not in use.”
	“Ok.” Ozzie said, the reservations he had been having were mounting.
	As the woman backed out, “And one more thing,” pause “do not be caught anywhere else without escort.”
	She seemed serious.  Deadly serious.
	Ozzie nodded—then to himself; this WAS a bad idea.

	Try as he might he couldn’t shake how uncomfortable it was to do what he was doing.  It wasn’t at all what he thought.  But too late to back out now.  He stripped little Bethany down hoping that shenanigans with her would overshadow his ill-feeling.
	He was right to some respect.  Once Bethany was naked he was readily enthused.  She was ten.  She looked like a tramp!  Make-up, eyelashes, hair up, and padded.  Her appearance to look older didn’t fool anybody—not even herself!  But like Ozzie—too late to back out.
	Laying the girl out on one of the twin beds he eyed her then pushed her legs open.  Very muchly was a virgin.  Applying his tongue he licked heartily until that savage part of him overwhelmed him and guided him to deflowering the girl with not his tongue but his dick.
	His mind went into overload as he ploughed the young girl’s poon.
	Teenage girls would have been better—but there was something about young girls.  They were prettier, more naïve, and mostly probably virginal.  Ozzie entered Bethany but not all the way—not at first.  He entered slowly, pulled out and humped her slit.  His eyes took in the girl’s naked body—then sideways glanced at the other two soon to be his treasure.
	Bethany didn’t exactly “rock his world” but it was a concert nonetheless.
	The release was immediate relief to his tormented mind troubles.
	For a moment or two or three he snuggled the mindless girl, fondling her soon-to-be breasts, fingering her fresh fucked pussy, probing her equally virginal asshole and kissing on her.  When stripping Christine’s clothes off he noted up in the corner of the room a red diode light.
	“Shit.” he was being watched—presumably.  He figured that in the corners of the room there were security cameras—spy cameras.  It somewhat unnerved him and he more than ever wished he were elsewhere.  He figured that even at the Agency house there were probably spy cameras there, too.  Probably.

	After licking out Christine’s pussy, Ozzie hoisted her legs up to his shoulders then made attempts at anal penetration.  Not too successful but it was worth of a try.  Fingering her asshole resulted in better results but his dire determination had taken a hit—he didn’t like being watched.  Especially secretively. 
	A lot of fingering to Christine followed by some spankering.  His cock was still enthused but his mind was distracted.  He figured as much that he was in trouble with the Agency—what sort of trouble he was in with the Fallen Dragon he wasn’t sure.
	After fingering Christine (and some spankering) he slid his slick schlong into her slit and rode her to the ultimate joy.  One more girl to go.  Some slapping his cock to Christine’s pussy then, like with Beth, hoisted her legs up to probe her virgin shitter.
	There was no anal penetration but it didn’t hurt to try.
	With Stephanie, the black girl was fingered-fingered-fingered revitalizing Ozzie’s shagged out schlong.  He then fucked her finding his mind’s troubles diminishing.  All there was was to fuck.  To fuck and cum.  It mattered little how old the girl was—well, out of diapers anyways.  Teen girls were ok, but he fancied the younger girls.
	When finished shagging Stephanie he sat back considering whether or not to bone them all again when the door behind him opened.  A Chinese woman in black leather exposing her pussy, titties, and buttocks appeared.
	“The Lady would like to see you.”
	He didn’t know why but a strange feeling swept over him—a frightening feeling.  The guard was tall, round face, no make-up, cold soul eating eyes.  Ozzie felt feelings he wasn’t accustomed to—fear.  He also felt foolish being naked and thusly vulnerable.  Had she been watching him fuck the girls?
	“What about them?” he said standing up slipping on his clothes.
	“Do not worry about them,” the woman said in a mono voice, “they are no longer your concern.”
	The woman then produced a changshan, a Chinese male’s long shirt.
	“Put this on.” instead of his regular street clothes.
	What had he gotten himself into!?

	The shirt was silk.  It was the most incredible thing he had ever worn!  It was the most incredible thing he had ever felt!  It was incredible!  Overwhelmed by the changshan he was easily guided down a hall, another hall, thru a door and then…
	The group paused at a room where within a teenage girl was in dire peril.
	The girl, about sixteen or so, was naked and fashioned to a dungeon-like bed.  The bed was wooden and set up from the floor four feet; the inside of the bed tilted whereas there was a 2-inch boarder all around.  The young lady was in fright—and rightfully so as there was a propane torch blazing—blazing a branding iron!
	What the fuck!?
	In the corners of the “dungeon-like” room stood Chinese guards.  Another Chinese gal was by the bed.  The gal on the bed was freaking the fuck out; there were nipple clips attached to her nipples; she had long black hair, green eyes, nice-nice teenage titties, not hair one on her pussy.
	When the smallish branding iron (smaller than normal cattle brands) was a brilliant red the Chinese torturer brought the iron over to the girl on the wooden bed.  Her wrists and ankles were bleeding in the leather restraints; her eyes of green bulged as she saw the branding iron.  Her knees, too, were stretched outward with more leather restraints thusly keeping her knees from flailing—flailing from when the branding iron was pressed to her bald pussy.
	Ozzie had a bit of a hard-on—and ejaculated when the branding iron was pressed to the girl’s pussy.  It was insane!  The girl bucked, screamed, and flailed regardless of the restraints breaking her left wrist before passing out.  The group with Ozzie went on.

	The Lady.
	The Fallen Dragon (Lady)
	There was a Wow Factor involved here.
	The Fallen Dragon was amazing.  Captivating.  Ozzie had seen many Chinese ladies, teen girls mostly, but some women.  None compared to the Fallen Dragon.  He could barely come up with words to describe her; and those that he did conjure in his mind were not fitting enough.  She was amazing!  Her beauty transcended everything.
	And from her beauty there was a scent that was equally breathtaking.
	Oranges?  Orange flowers?  Roses?
	And the fragrance of tea, too.
	The room was grand; mostly dark along the outer edges; but there was central a grand ornate bed, four-poster, with frilly fringes.  Chinese art adorned the walls, tapestries on the walls and floor; ornate furnishings here—and there—and over there.  Chinese guards, too.  All clad in sleek black shiny leather exposing their poons, titties, and asses.  It was then that Ozzie noted that the guards, entourage all had branded poons.
	Rite of passage?
	The Fallen Dragon lay on the bed—she was full of mystic and held Ozzie in a complete trance.  So much so that he did not know when the silk shirt he had cum on inside had been removed.
	The Lady’s eyes focused (or feasted?) on Ozzie’s schlong.  Her tongue flicked out.	Did—did she have a forked tongue?
	Ozzie wasn’t sure.
	Ozzie wasn’t sure of anything by this point.
	‘come to me’ a voice in his head said.
	It was, of course, the Lady.
	What a sensation!  His entire body tingled!  He felt like being electrocuted—no, not as intense as that.  You ever touch your tongue to a 9-volt battery?  I know you did.  That feeling—intensified times ten.  All over his body—his nipples peaked and his cock—well, his cock was in business for itself.
	Onto the bed he went; slowly.
	Onto the Fallen Dragon he went; slowly.
	‘make love to me’ she said.
	‘INTO the Fallen Dragon he went; slowly.
	In his life since he had been fucking—no pussy had ever thrilled him so.  To describe—he couldn’t.  It was unbelievable.  Totally.  No words were invented yet to describe that unique feeling; sensational.
	His mind was blown—and after cumming in the Lady his cock was blown!
	Not by the Lady but by her consorts.  After pulling out he lay off to one side of the Fallen Dragon; mesmerized.   One of the flunkies came and began fondling his cock.  Ozzie felt that he could die right then and be happy.  And from ball fondling to cock fondling; the one gal handling his dong began masturbating him.  When he was sufficiently hard-harder-hardest she took his pud into her mouth and sucked the life out of him!
	The next thing he knew—the Lady was gone and he was on the super comfy bed.  It was like nothing he had ever laid on before.  He felt as if though he were melting.  One of the Lady’s consorts straddled his face.  It was then, while munching, that he noted the brand on her bald pussy was of a Chinese symbol.
	There actually were two; one was the symbol meaning “fallen” and the other was (of course) “dragon.”
	Ozzie noshed at the “Y” until he got a face full of female jiz.
	One of the other flunkies rode his cock while another (at the same time) suckled his balls.  The gal he suckled filled his face with her essence—in turn, he filled the mouth of the one sucking him; this after she had rode him to the pivotal point of joy.
	The Lady’s ladies then lay on him, caressing him, fondling his balls, his cock, his inner soul.  It couldn’t get any better—could it?
	Down the hall in another room—
	Feminist/activist/do-gooder and all around nosey cunt bitch Glorya Totalie, was in peril.  She was already out of her mind from her out-and-out kidnapping (and subsequent rough treatment) and some point she blacked out—only to awaken to new horror:  she was naked and strapped spread eagled on a wooden bed that was tilted slightly at an angle.
	The room was a dungeon setting; beds, tables, a fire pit, shackles on the cobblestoned wall, iron maidens, and no dungeon would be a dungeon without a blacksmith’s forge.
	Glorya wasn’t alone in the dungeon/torture room; at an angle from her was a young woman it took a little time for her to recognize—the child killer Suzanne Anne Kasey.  She was tussed up on a contraption that looked—painful.  Bent over a wooden bar with her legs spread wide and her ankles shackled in leather restraints.  Her arms were bent back behind her also shackled in leather restraints preventing her from moving in anyway-shape-or-form.  Her head, too, was restraint via a leather strap about her forehead attached to a spring mechanism.
	She was also bald headed.
	Glorya could see that the young woman’s ass was red—reddened from being beaten by a belt, strap, and wooden slat.  Glorya’s breath began to quicken—this was a nightmare!  (and it wasn’t going to get any better!)
	For one thing—she herself was bald!  Usually she had shoulder length hair; she was 67 years young and had once auburn hair that was thick.  Now it was grey and looking like a rat’s nest.  Then—
	Glorya stopped breathing.  Her breath was literally taken as looming out of the gloom of the dungeon came walking an ape.  An ape.  He stood some two meters tall.  Not much of a slouch as per the norm for an ape; he was tall, dark fur, very—very muscular, cold steely eyes, and occasionally grunted.
	Whether or not he WAS an ape or a man in an ape suit Glorya didn’t know.  What she did know was the creature made his way around to the tussed up bound Suzanne and after slapping her ass a couple of three times proceeded to fuck her with his big-huge-humongous ape-like gargantuan cock.  The cock looked more like that belonging to a horse.  But it was attached to an ape.  Glorya was confused.
	Suzanne began to scream as the mighty ape-horse cock slammed into her.
	In her vagina—anus?  Glorya couldn’t rightly tell.  In the back of her mind she knew her fate.  She began to struggle.  She saw a huge man bare chested at the forge stoking the fire.  The room was blazing hot and there was a stench that was overpowering—she couldn’t place the smell but it was horridly offensive.
	The humping ape-man grunted-grunted-grunted…and then grunted some more.  He made all the animalistic sounds associated with an ape and when he pulled out…
	Glorya almost fainted—there was an even more horrendous smell wafting on the listless air accompanied by a ‘slurping’ sound as the ape’s penis slipped out of Suzanne’s body.  The ape-man grunted, pounded his chest then proceeded to smack his lengthy penis against the woman’s body.  She had gone to trail facing charges of murdering her own child—a 2yr old sweet little girl.  The body had been hidden in a watery canal full of weeds and such and it took 2 years before the detectives could make their case.
	Months later and Suzanne was acquitted.
	She was instantly the most hated person in the country.
	After smacking his cock against her ass the ape-man made his way around to her face where he proceeded to slap her face with his cock.  Glorya still couldn’t tell from which orifice the ape’s cock had been.  The ape-man then pawed the back of the woman’s head and moved it rapidly whereas then the spring mechanism moved her head back-and-forth whereas the ape’s cock went slithering into her mouth.
	Glorya was appalled.
	The ape-man yowled, beat his chest, made ape sounds, and shoved as much of his fuck stick into her mouth as possible.  Suzanne coughed, gagged, choked, puked.  The ape-man pulled out and slapped her face harder before beating his chest and … and coming over to the petrified Glorya.
	“Oh—no.” she said in petrification.  “No-no-NOOOOO!” the ape-man flopped his cock smacking it against the table the woman was secured to and then against the woman herself—specifically her bald—freshly shaven cunny.
	She knew that she was probably going to be raped.  Probably.
	The ape’s breath was horrid—horrid.  His eyes—cold as iron—stared into her soul.  Were those eyes—human?  It wasn’t possible for an ape to be so large.  Was it?  As Glorya contemplated the animal kingdom—the ape slid his monstrous horse-like cock into her cunny.
	She started to scream but the scream was cut off by sheer horror.
	There was clenching, clutching, and then---
	The feeling of being fucked was one thing.
	The feeling of being raped—that was one thing.
	The feeling of being raped-fucked—by an APE…the wow factor hadn’t been invented yet to describe that.  It was a violation, sure, but there, too—
	OH—MY—GOD!
	Glorya was left in a euphoria she never thought possible.
	The ape with the amazing horse cock withdrew, pounded his chest, grunted, farted, then shuffled off into the dungeon’s gloom.  Glorya remained in a stunned euphoric state of being for some time to come.
	At least until she was branded.
	The scream.
	Never in her life (67 of them) had Glorya screamed so.  She screamed a little adding “OH GOD!” when a bare chested black masked man atypical of the blacksmith in such settings pulled out of the forge a blazing red/white hot branding iron.
	Suzanne screamed first.  She rattled the restraints in the contraption that restrained but there was no escape.  Glorya once more lost her ability to breathe.  Her aged cunny was still reveling in the incredible fuck that had just occurred but she tensed all over then looked away as the brand was applied to Suzanne’s pussy.
	The blacksmithy applied the brand while Suzanne was bent over in the contraption; her legs were spread wide and the brand was not as large as those associated with the branding of moo-moos—it was smaller (for the branding of poo-poons!)
	Suzanne wept; screamed, howled, then hung her head and was out.
	The hooded blacksmith returned the branding iron to the forge.
	Glorya knew—she just knew that her turn was next.
	She was right of course.

*

	A broken tooth, maybe two; pinched tongue to the point of severe bleeding; her mind as tortured as her body.  The unbelievable stench that had filled her nostrils earlier that she couldn’t describe?  She now knew what the stench was—burning flesh.  She got a whiff of the burning flesh from Suzanne—and then herself.
	Her screams were inaudible.
	Her right wrist had broken (due to thrashing about so) as the blacksmith applied the dual brands to her pussy.  Prior to application a generous portion of olive oil had been doused onto her cunny as well as after the branding.  Her mind almost gone she had no strength when she was released from her bindings and dragged out of the dungeon room to another room.
	She blathered, babbled, rambled, and was basically senseless.
	Then,
	More leather straps restrained her to the new bed; the new bed was wondrous—it was like laying on a cloud!  Her legs spread, arms above her head, the woman lay in confound delirium for some time.  The room was basic black with some red trim; no windows.  No paintings; a strong scent of some kind of herbal tea mixed with jasmine and other assorted incense.  The air was cool with a direct blast onto her fevered face (and cunny!)

	As Glorya’s eyes focused she noted that in the corners were people.
	Absolute distinction of who was not possible but she was aware of their presence.  Presently some boys came into the room.  Young boys.  Naked young boys.  One of the boys was hoisted up onto the bed by one of the peoples Glorya couldn’t see.  The boy was about five years young, red haired, blue eyed, freckled face, naked.  The woman who had hoisted him was Chinese, or Korean; short dark hair, some sort of powdery make-up, cold dark eyes, thin lipped, and clad in a skin tight sleek black leather outfit (exposing her breasts, vagina, and ass.)
	‘suck his penis.’ a voice said into her mind.
	Inasmuch as she was appalled and sickened at that request (or demand) she was doubly so when a naked twelve year old boy climbed onto the bed.  He was a handsome fellow; blond hair, blue eyes, naked.  His penis, though, wasn’t quite hard—until one of the Chinese gals began handling his limp dick AND a pretty (and naked) ten year old girl came into the room along with a naked (and pretty) thirteen year old.  Both girls got onto the bed and lay with their legs open; then they began fingering themselves and…viola!  boner.
	Glorya wanted to say NO to the boy with the boner but couldn’t.  The blond haired boy positioned himself on her and slid his penis into her sex—then he was swatted HARD on the ass and he began to pump.
	‘suck his penis or there will be pain.’
	Glorya swallowed hard.  Pain?  How much more could there be?
	Closing her eyes she took the little boy’s schlong into her mouth and began sucking.  The boy who was fucking her sometimes glanced at her; he kept his attention mostly on the two naked masturbating girls.
	The boy fucked for up to four minutes then was swatted HARD and he dismounted.  The little boy getting his winkie waxed was pulled off to be replaced by—the boy who had just been in her pussy!  OH!
	‘suck him.’
	Glorya hesitated—his penis had just been in her vagina!
	‘suck him or suffer the consequences.’
	What consequences could she suffer that she hadn’t suffered already?
	Once more, closing her eyes, she took a boy’s penis into her mouth and sucked-sucked-nearly vomited-sucked.
	A very handsome ten year old boy was helped up onto the bed and positioned between Glorya’s legs.  A swat to his ass prompted him to engage sexually—the visual aids still laying there beside the woman fingering themselves aided in his erection.
	The young boy lasted three minutes and grew tired.
	Just as he did so—the boy in her mouth (who had been in her twat) came off.
	Glorya was well on her way to vomiting.
	An eleven year old black boy, a ten year old Korean boy, and a darling little ten year old white boy all took turns boning Glorya—then fucking her mouth.  Somehow she managed to keep her stomach contents from spewing.  Then, when all the lads had had their turn with Glorya, they were taken out of the room.  Glorya lay still; her stomach was now in turmoil as much as her mind was.
	A television monitor was brought to her attention, it was a big screen on the wall before her showing the boys that were just in the room going into the dungeon room.  They were marched up to Suzanne still restrained by the restraining contraption.  The blacksmith operated the contraption lowering it to the boys’ level.  The woman’s legs were spread wider causing some discomfort.
	The first boy, the tall blond haired twelve year old was swatted on the ass and told something by one of the leathery clad Chinese ladies.  The boy bent over and put his face to Suzanne’s ass.  He licked her asshole.  And after licking for one full minute he put his cock to the hole—and in.  A rigorous butt fucking ensued lasting a full four minutes.  The boy blasted a fresh hot load of boy spunk.  (While he butt fucked Suzanne he was occasionally swatted.)
	The next boy in line was not so enthused about eating ass—especially with splooge oozing out of the hole.  So he was switched.  A long thin bamboo switch was stricken across the boy’s bare ass until he complied.  By then he was crying (and bleeding.)  The boys that followed did not hesitate and licked asshole (before fucking it).
	The boys were ushered out and … the ape-man returned.
	He didn’t lick Suzanne’s butt hole—he just simply fucked it.
	Suzanne lost her mind and passed out.
	Glorya would have, too, but someone new entered the room.
	Ozzie.

*

Getting to know you
	He looked a little disorientated.  No, a LOT disorientated!
	Ozzie slowly entered the Agency kitchen, grabbed a soda from the fridge, and copped a squat at the table.
	“Hi!” he said to the newcomer.
	The newcomer nodded and offered a meager smile.  In his eyes there was confusion.  He was new—but willing.  The Agency Way of Life was something that took a little getting used to.  Ozzie had been a member for “awhile” and was still getting used to the Way of Life.  After his stint with the Fallen Dragon—he was a changed man.

	After banging the shit out of the feminist/activist Glorya he stepped aside and watched as the ape-man took his turn.  He fucked her hard—harder—hardest.  He fucked her to death.  Literally.  Ozzie wasn’t sure if the tall ape-man was in fact—an ape—or some dude in an ape costume.  He knew, though, that he wasn’t going to ask…anyone.  Ever.
	There was another session with the Fallen Dragon—whereupon he was swatted with black leather whips.  Not to the point of bringing blood or even welts, but there was a definite sting to the event regardless.
	Then he was branded.
	On the ass.
	Both cheeks.
	One cheek—the Chinese symbol “FALLEN”; the other cheek—the Chinese symbol “DRAGON.”  It was better than having his balls branded.  Way better.
	He was owned.  Property of the Lady.  He was an Agent for the Agency but property of the Fallen Dragon (Lady.)  Well, job security?  The Lady WAS a good fuck.  He could do without the whipping.  And then he learned that Fallen Dragon was a consort of the Virus.  That could be problematic.  The Agency, Ozzie knew, was something similar to that of the Mob; fuck up, rat, tattle, skim off the top, go against the Boss, do un-Agency things could get one “disappeared.”
	Now Ozzie had to be mindful of both the Virus and the Fallen Dragon.  Fuck up with both of them and he could say good-bye to his balls; he imagined getting into trouble with Virus would result in one’s balls being ripped off.  Getting into trouble with the Fallen Dragon would get one’s heart ripped out thru his chest.
	Not a pleasant thought.
	On the upside, though, Ozzie did garner a gift from the Lady, a new (and improved) Electronic Mind Altering Device!  (and he used it, too!)

*

And he used it, too!
	At one of those outdoor museums featuring Old West themed homes, trains, stores, and such as the like like that there that modern day young people aren’t too interested in—
	Ozzie sighted in on three Subjects.
	His butt cheeks still tingled; so did his balls (the Lady had a way with sucking the life out one’s nades)  He had nightmares of pissing off the Fallen Dragon and finding himself in the contraption Suzanne was in—and in walks the ape-man.  That would be bad—very-very bad.

	Learning the idiosyncrasies of the new sophisticated EMAD took a little time.  The Device was tuned into to his being; his fingerprint only.  He was warned by one of the Lady’s flunkies, “I would advise not to use it too often or it will consume you.”
	Ozzie was young and took the consort’s counsel with some thought but not action.  He was a five year old boy in a candy store where everything was free.
	The Subjects, one-two-three, sat on a bench by an old west two-story building that was jail and office below and court above.  The bench was on the side of the building—out of sight of parental units who loved the old west stuff.  The three kids were deeply involved in their mini computers, iPads.  The blond haired girl had a knee up; she wore a short pleated grey/blue skirt and from Ozzie’s angle—she had bright pink panties!  Crotch shot!
	The girl on the other side of the boy was Korean; she had long dark hair and wore short knee length blue jeans.  The boy in the middle was a blond haired youth wearing a green shirt and jeans.
	There were other targets in the outdoor museum; some teen girls had his attention but they were in numbers and Ozzie was not yet ready to waylay “numbers.”  
	‘Come here.’ Ozzie said using the new EMAD.  He hadn’t yet become “one” with the module; he had to have a direct line o’ sight with the Target, he got a powerful headache that made him dizzy and nauseous, and there was a pesky nose bleed to deal with, too.  But, the Device was a big step up from the previous mind altering gadget.
	Ozzie discovered (on-the-job training) that the Device was capable of subduing multiples.  The blond haired girl, Polly, firstly, though, sat up and looked around pulling the earbuds out of her ear,
	“Did you say something?” she asked of the other two.
	Both other two shook their heads and continued to be immersed in their gaming or whatever.
	Ozzie increased the gain on the Device giving it a boost in its electronic abilities.
	‘come—HERE!’
	Once more and Polly looked to her friends—then stood up.
	So did the boy (Colin) and the Korean (Nellie.)
	Behind the courthouse/jail building, next to the drug store, there was a generous space and then the fence encircling the property.  Beyond the fence was a field of junk; old buildings, cars, train cars, city project refuse, and so on.  From there a dual track train track, a dirt canal, a large empty field, and a dry river.  A minor league ball park was off to one side, the dry river to the other.

	There was, of course, a hole in the fence enabling sneaks into the museum.  Ozzie had done so a few times, he wasn’t so interested in the buildings as he was the old machines; the oil well, oil derrick, and steam locomotives.  Thru the fence and along a trail to the train track that was up a six foot mound.  At the bridge that crossed over the canal there was a hole—a cave.  Ozzie had spent time here, too, smoking pot, drinking beer with friends, hiding out from Johnny Law, his mom, a girl’s pissed off dad, school, etc.
	Ten year old Polly Makesitt, long blond hair, slim body, great ass, beginner’s nobs, had a great smile and a blank stare.  Ozzie, still working thru the uniqueness of the Device got her to take her clothes off—he had her pause, though, when at those bright pink undies.  They hugged her body nicely and she was none the wiser about what she was doing.
	A nifty feature of the EMAD was Q&A.
	‘Ever see a boy naked?’ he transmitted to the stunned mindless girl.
	“My brother, his friend (peeing in the backyard).”
	‘Ever fool around with your brother?’
	A pause there was—then;
	“Sometimes.”  Touchy/feely.
	Nellie Notit had three brothers, two older and one younger—soooo, she saw them naked—a lot.  No touchy/feely—just stare.  The oldest brother, sixteen, she saw “playing” with his pee-pee.  Nothing more follows.  Colin had an older sister and a younger one.  With the older girl, Stacey, they just saw one another naked but mostly in their undies.  With the younger girl, Mary, finger-finger-finger!  When he could get away with it.  She was four and he sometimes helped give her a bath—and whilst doing so helped himself to some fingering.  Seemed the thing to do.
	Did he want to see his friends, Polly and Nellie naked?
	Actually, he had never really thought about it.
	Colin and Nellie followed suit with undressing down to their underwear.
	Then Ozzie did same.
	Then Ozzie embraced Polly, caressed her ass, slipped his hand inside her pink panties, and found himself unable to hold back.  There was no thought of taking the trio to the Warehouse…the previous girls (Bethany, Christine, and Stephanie) were never seen again.  He didn’t know their fate—and didn’t want to.  After seeing the dungeon/torture room, the ape-man, the “contraption”, the brandings—there were things about the Fallen Dragon he just didn’t want to know.
	So he kept the trio escapade to himself.
	Laying Polly down he slid her pink panties off, sniffed the crotch, then went down on the girl herself sniffing HER crotch.  And from sniffing to licking, fingering, and finally—fucking!  Seemed the thing to do.
	Polly by golly was a hottie.  Ozzie took his time; caressing her naked body, clutching her ass, and fingering her pussy to his delight.  And he did so delight!  Then it was all about the fucking.  Gliding his prong up and down her delicate poon he still took some time but soon the umph was there and there was no denying entry.
	He felt as if though he creamed right off.  There was a “surge” but not ejaculate.  That came later.  He slid himself into the girl’s sex, pulled out to hump the slit, then returned entry to complete the job.
	While fucking he checked the other two; he had little to know intention of sex with the boy—maybe something.  Maybe.  The Korean girl he definitely wanted to bone.  The boy was of some interest; he had naughty aspirations for his sister—sisters.  And with Ozzie armed with a kicked up sophisticated top notch EMAD…hmmm
	The cumming in Polly was sensational.  Ozzie couldn’t get enough.  He felt his cock cumming and he embraced the girl clutching her to him as their bodies melded.  He pumped and pumped, strained, pumped, shuddered, and came in great quantities.  There was an instant melt down.  Time was taken to admire the mindless girl before pushing off of her and taking a slight break.
	‘Want to fuck?’ Ozzie asked of Colin.
	The boy wasn’t sure; kinda/sorta.  He didn’t think of his friend in a sexual manner; just a friend.  He was sort of/kind of afraid of crossing the line with her; any advance other than friendly and she would possibly deck him or be pissed off and not want to be his friend.  He just didn’t think of her sexually.
	Once the boy was naked, Ozzie began prying more and more into his young mind.
	‘If you could FUCK your sisters—would you?’
	Slight pause; then—
	“Yeah.” Colin answered almost exuberantly.
	Ozzie then dinked with the boy’s mind further implanting the notion that Polly was his little sister, Mary.  The boy then stared and stared at the laying down naked Polly with not much success in the ruse.  Ozzie then had the older sister, Stacey, suck his dick.
	That helped.
	Helped Ozzie, too!
	It was a nice scene; the naked ten year old Korean sucking on Colin’s pud while in his mind he saw it was his older sister sucking on his pud.
	‘Your little sister wants you to fuck her.’
	‘What do you do—what DO you do!?’

	A slight hesitation then the boy was grinding on the “little sister” fucking her with umph.  Ozzie was pleased (and found himself strangely sexually intrigued watching the boy fuck.  After cleaning his dick using Polly’s pink panties he had Nellie suck him.
	Ozzie was surprised that when after Colin nutted “he nutted!”  The boy pulled out and there was milky strands of spunk from his pisser from/to Polly’s cunt.  The boy was ten!  Ozzie shrugged and put his slobbered on tool to Nellie and fucked her brains out—or at leastways his.

Like banging a screen door in a hurricane
	More training, more “getting to know” the EMAD-extraordinaire.  Some trial, some error but the end result—startling.  After banging Polly and Nellie like a screen door in a hurricane the junior Agent felt confident enough to hurl himself into the wind and go it alone (not like he hadn’t been doing so so far.)
	The trio from the museum was still with him—er, on his mind not physically speaking.  There was marvel in the sophistication of the Device; after screwing the girls, both himself and Colin, Ozzie put it to the girls to allow their friend to “fuck their brains out” on almost a daily basis.  If not fucking then sucking.  He, in turn, would lick their cunnies.  Ozzie felt good about his progress and left the kids (naked) in the cave to carry out their new way of life.
	Anyways—
	North of the City, east of the dammed lake, there was a landscape of trees and rocks.  Sparse trees, lots of big fucking rocks (boulders.)  Lots of hiking trails, camping spots, impromptu camping, boating fishing, shit like that.  Two young teens were hiking, brother and sister—they had had enough of their siblings (bickerings and annoying) so when the time was right—they scooted.
	The pair walked up from the lake into the sparse woods seeing a large jutting rock that looked like a giant lizard.
	And sitting on the head of that giant lizard was a cougar!
	“Oh shit!” breathed Greg.
	Marsha clutched her brother’s hand; she was twelve, he was thirteen.
	“I think I just peed.” she said.
	Greg nodded but wasn’t sure exactly what she said.
	“Don’t run,” Greg said to her, “whatever you do—don’t run.”
	Marsha nodded.  Did he say “Run”? or “Don’t run?”  continuing to clutch his hand she would take his lead whatever—run or don’t run.
	The cougar looked to the two lunches, a lunch and desert, made a scowling sound like cougars do but didn’t move from the head of the lizard-rock.
	“Real slowly, let’s back up.”
	Marsha nodded and backed up…and tripped.
	She was a girl—so it was natural.
	The cougar made his noise again; Greg helped his clumsy sister up and they once more began to retreat but this time Marsha facing the way they had come; butt to butt; Greg facing the cougar and Marsha the way they had come.  Down the trail and to the left—whereas they should have continued down the trail to their campsite.  Instead, left took them to a creek.  The trees closed in a bit and Greg lost sight of the cougar.
	At the creek the two stood shoulder to shoulder looking for the cougar.
	No cougar.
	“I don’t think he followed his—I don’t see any movement.”
	“Good, ‘cause I’m about to have one.”
	Greg chuckled then stepped away looking down the trail they had come.
	Turning back he shrugged—“Looks good to me.” Then,
	“Damn!”
	Marsha looked down to where he was staring—at her crotch.
	“Son-of-a-bitch!” Marsha bitched.
	“Mom’s gonna freak.”
	“Mom’s never going to let us go out on our own again!”
	Marsha backed up to sit on a small boulder.
	“If I could make a suggestion?”
	“What?” Marsha asked trying to figure out how to explain her wet pants to her mother.
	“Take ‘em off and lay on the rock, let the sun dry them.”
	Marsha thought it over—then began shucking her jeans and panties.
	Looking up (to her brother) she paused a moment.
	“You want me to go away?” Greg asked.
	One second…two seconds…three… “No, you can stay.”
	Greg smiled; he was a little dorky looking, but he was thirteen – so there’s that.  Dark hair, cool azure blue eyes, the teen checked his stripping down sister slyly gouging the heel of his hand to his bulging boner.
	Marsha saw her brother’s actions despite his trying to be sly about it.
	She smiled, giggled and blushed.
	“What?” Greg asked; then looked down and saw that he had a very pronounced pronouncement.
	“Shit!” he exclaimed—“Sorry.”
	Marsha shrugged, “It’s ok.”
	‘It is?’ the boy looked sheepish (and more dorkish then before.)
	“We’ve seen each other.” Marsha said but didn’t explain further.
	“Yeah,” Greg chortled, “usually in our underwear.”
	“Yeah,” Marsha said standing up being without clothing from the waist down, “we’ve seen each other.” She was smiling and still blushing.  Marsha was—on the verge of being a pretty girl.  On the verge.  Currently—not so much.  She was rather plain, long-long straight honey blond hair, lovely amazing eyes, a sort of shapely body, and just a slight bit of poon pie hair on her now naked cunny.
	“Heck, we’ve SEEN each other naked!” Greg stated.
	“Yeah, just glimpses.” Right?
	“Yeah, glimpses.”
	Greg looked around (for security’s sake) “Looks like we’re alone.” Where was this leading? Hmmm
	“Yeah, looks like.” Good thing.
	Marsha placed her clothes on the rock as Greg had suggested.  When she turned around to do so—Greg nearly fainted.  Goddamn what an ass!  Glimpses.  Yeah, only mere glimpses of his sister naked.  Then—
	“Did you pee your pants, too?” Marsha asked (suspiciously)
	“Uh, no.” Greg said stupidly.  He glanced down but didn’t see any wetness—just a boner.
	“Well, if you did,” Marsha said with some trepidation, “you could put your clothes up here with mine.” Hmmm
	Really?
	Greg hemhawed around a bit contemplating “What?” “What was she hinting at?”  then—
	‘Oooooh!’ hehe
	With a bashful shrug, “I-I think I did.  Just a little.” It was still embarrassing but he shucked his britches (and tidy-whiteys) and there he was—naked.  Mostly.
	Other than Marsha there was Evelynn and Mabel.  Evelynn was ten while Mabel was a mere six.  On the previous day it was Mabel who had gotten stung by a bee—on the butt—whilst she was peeing.  The kids’ dad was off on a grocery run so it was up to Greg to the rescue.  His dad smoked, but was cutting down and almost quitting.  There was a pack of ciggys in the tent; Greg got the tobacco out, got it wet, then squeezed the juice out onto Mabel’s lily white right butt cheek.  (the tobacco helps the sting of the bee something like anesthetic).
	Not the first time he had seen her bare butt.  Mabel had an aversion to the wearing of clothing and liked to race up and down the halls—naked.  Sliding on the bare wood floor in her socks and socks only.  She often got her sisters doing same (but the often did so in their undies.)
	Of Evelynn, yeah, Greg had seen her naked, too—a little more than a glimpse, too.
	Anyways…

	Marsha gazed at her brother’s schlong.  It was hard! Once—ONCE she had seen him “playing” with it.  She just thought it was something that boy’s did with their willie ‘cause they could (she’s right you know) She was going to ask her mother about it but decided not to.
	  “Uhm, you’d probably ought to rinse yourself off, too.” Greg said shyly.
	Marsha looked down then nodded her pretty head, “Yeah, good point.”
	And off to the creek she went.
	Greg watched her—dat ass!  His cock got all the harder (and secret desires, too!)
	“Coming?” she asked she immersed herself into the creek.
	‘Almost!’ the boy blushed and his cock led the way.
	After a little splish-splash frolic in the creek the two got out to lay on the warm rocks.
	“Bad time for mom and dad to come look for us, huh?” Marsha said.
	“Very bad.” And he looked hard listening harder for any telltale signs of parental encroachment.  Seeing none, hearing none he lay on his back methodically playing with his skin flute.
	“Greg, mind if I ask you something?”
	“Sure.”
	“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
	Greg shrugged, “Shoot.”
	“Well, I was just curious—do you know what a blowjob is like?”
	Greg was stunned.  What a question?  Then—hey…what the hey!?
	“How would I know?” he was a guy—and in no way did HE personally know what giving head was like.
	“That’s something you should ask another girl.” Who gives head.
	“Oh,” embarrassed, “I-I just wondered what it was like.”
	Oh.  Greg was a bit confused but slowly it dawned on him—she wasn’t asking if HE gave head but if whether or not a GIRL gave HIM head and what it felt like for HIM.
	“I don’t know if I could do it.” she said in a low voice.
	“For one,” Greg stated asserting his brotherly dominance, “you’re too young for that stuff.”
	Marsha lay on her back, her young titties flattened out but were still visible.
	Almost fourteen Greg had a tremendous boner and it was quite a feat to keep from jerking off furiously.  Almost thirteen Marsha fingered herself (and casually watched her brother play with his tool.)
	A whole minute and some seconds passed—then,
	“Well,” drawled Greg fishing for a solution to Marsha’s query, “if you want to know what a blowjob is…” he waggled his cock to send the unsaid message.
	It was a big step but Marsha’s curiosity prompted her, goaded her, into testing the waters by “tasting” her brother’s prong.
	Gregory Bray had never gotten a blowjob BUT he had heard from pals how it was done.  One pal supposedly got a hummer from his sister almost daily.  Greg pretty much figured the boy was fibbing a little.  A little.
	“Roll your tongue around the head.” Greg said (as he had learned from his incestuous pal.)
	Marsha gripped her brother’s prong and followed instructions.
	She made a slight face but continued rolling her tongue about the super sensitive crown (head.)
	Greg felt like he was going to blow any second.
	She was no expert but that was ok.  The girl went on to roll her tongue all over then began her downward descent.  Greg knew he was cumming.  He knew that it was going to gross her out—but strangely, it didn’t.  Marsha went down-down-down; she sucked and sucked and sucked and sucked and sucked and then—sucked some more draining her brother’s prong.
	Greg was in another world.
	“SON-OF-A-BITCH!” he exclaimed.  She was no expert but…
	Marsha sat up blushing, giggling, drizzling bits of cum out the corners of her mouth.  Spatting the goo out,
	“So you liked it?”
	Greg was speechless.  Then,
	“I can do you now.” 
	Marsha’s defenses instantly perked up.
	“What do you mean?” the sometimes shy girl asked.
	“Y-you sucked me, my turn to do you.”
	“But I don’t have a—a—thingy like you?”
	School time!
	“Lay down.” Greg said.  He sat up and was totally flummoxed by what had happened—and what was GOING to happen.
	Marsha laid down, Greg spread her legs, Greg got hard, Greg eyed the girl’s cunny, Greg spurted cum.
	Flicking his tongue to his sister’s quim (like he knew how) was a treat for him as much as it was for her.  She tensed, clenched, made odd noises, and basically “fucked his face.”
	He kinda like it; it enthused him.  enthused him so much that after thoroughly licking out his sister’s cunt he moved up to lay on her—poising for that ultimate incestuous sin.
	“Greg.” Marsha said—but only this—and nothing more!  She was concerned and it showed in her pretty eyes.  
	But there was no stopping once the progress of motion was—in progress.
	That would be wrong!
	Slowly and Greg glided his cock against his sister’s fevered cunt—grinding.
	Marsha’s nipples perked up and Greg fondled them—continuing to grind.
	Grabbing her brother’s arm (spreading her legs wider) was sign to Greg that “the fuck was on.”  The slicked up helmet of his pud entered the virgin girl’s poon and slowly made steady progress busting the thin membrane just inside.  A hearty thrust and the act of “fucking” commenced.
	Marsha’s arms and legs flailed about, she wrapped her flailing legs about him continuing to cling to his arms and revel in the brotherly love.  Soon and their mouths met.  It just happened.  The power of love and sex accumulated massive urgence and the two engaged sexually for several minutes.

*

	With the noonday sun baking his backside—getting laid trumped getting burned.  The release of cum put Greg Bray into a euphoric state of being simple hand jerking came nowhere close.  Nowhere.  And he knew at that pivotal moment that nothing else compared.  All there was was to fuck—and cum.
	Of course, it didn’t linger, the feeling of ecstasy.  It was electrifying and tingled his body from his hair to his toes.  He knew that he wanted to do that again—and again—and again some more.
	For Marsha…she was just in awe.  Too young to really comprehend “getting laid” and associating words to describe it.  Her young cunny was a bit sore but there was this lingering tingling feeling—she was at a quandary.  She felt like clenching, peeing, farting, and friggin’ herself all in one motion/emotion.
	Back into the creek for a little revitalization (rinsing).  Greg kinda/sorta wanted to “tap dat ass” but knew that her backdoor was probably too tight from the water.  Probably.  Maybe later?
	With their clothes dry the two dressed and began their trek to the campsite.
	At the turn to the main trail they both looked to the direction of Lizard Rock.
	No cougar.
	That was kinda good—kinda bad.
	Holding hands the two picked up their step and continued on their way.
	As they neared camp,
	“You know, Marsha, you’ve been wondering what to get dad for his birthday—I know the perfect gift!”
	“What?  Tell me?”
	“Just what you did for me—a blowjob!”
	Marsha’s mouth fell open—big enough to insert Lizard Rock (and the cougar!)
	“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, “Are you serious?”
	“Yeah, why not?”
	Marsha couldn’t respond—the proposal was too ridiculous.
	“I-I don’t think I could do that.”
	“Well, it was just a thought.” then, “You know, you been wanting a bump in your allowance; doing that for dad would surely do it.” no shit.
	It was still overwhelming for Marsha to conceive.  They returned to camp, dad had returned with ice and groceries.  Evelynn and Mabel had managed NOT to get stung or fall into the lake.  Their mom was relaxing in a hammock—the rigors of motherhood, wife, and work had taken their toll on the woman and she needed the vacation more than anyone.

	Marsha:  “How?  When?” there’s always mom hovering somewhere and/or especially the other girls and ten times out of nine their little friends.  Private time at home was almost nil.
	Greg:  “I’ll take the girls for a walk, get mom to come along, too.” Then there will be private time to “get that bump in allowance!”
	Marsha:  mind blank.

The things I’ll do for a money
	Attend clown school
	Fart in an elevator
	Handjob to the homeless
	Handjob to the handless
	Go snowboarding drunk
	Go snowboarding drunk—and naked
	Ask a London cabbie how to get to Scotland 
	Ask a Scottish cabbie how to get to London

	From the campsite by the lake there was a trail that went all around the lake.  There were cabins all over the place; secluded.  There were a few piers jutting out into the lake and nature trails everywhere.  Greg took his sisters and mother on one of these nature trails while Marsha and dad remained in camp to have that “father/daughter” relationship.
	It was long known that daughters adored their fathers and Marsha was no exception.  For every birthday, father’s day, Christmas, she tried to one-up everyone and get him the best gift.  This birthday would be untoppable.

	Marsha’s usual style of dress was an attire consisting of jeans, jean shorts,  dress/jean outfit (half dress down to the butt and sometimes concealing the butt) and seldom times a dress—just on special occasions.  After Greg had lured the other family members away…
	Marsha emerged from the two-room family tent wearing a short dress (and nothing else!)  Her attired got her daddy’s attention.
	“My-my!” he said beamingly, “What’s the occasion?  Got a date for the prom?” he chided her—Marsha’s “prom” was years away.  Embarrassed, Marsha blushed, giggled, and suddenly had to suppress a pesky fart.  It felt odd to go about without underwear on—but it also felt kinda good!
	“Just wanted your birthday to be special.” Marsha said hugging her daddy.
	Robert smiled and hugged back his daughter—the hug from Marsha was intense and very meaningful.  No need to spoil the moment, he let the girl hug the proverbial stuffing out of him; he patted her backside then she stepped back holding his hands.  She was blushing so big!
	Robert sat down on a log admiring his blushing child.
	“I love you so much!” Marsha said and re-hugged her dear daddy.
	Overwhelmed, Robert re-hugged his daughter.
	Surreptitiously and Marsha raised her short inappropriate for outdoor camping (is there such a thing as INDOOR camping? Just askin’) anyways…
	Robert’s hands patted his daughter’s backside and coyly copped a feel of her ass.  Her bare ass.  He was shocked at first, of course.  Not dismayed.  Not alarmed.  He was—amused!  It was then he noted that she herself was holding her dress up.  Hmmm
	Then she said,
	“It’s alright, daddy, I love you so much!”
	More hmmm
	“Uh—” was all he could muster.  So he patted her bare butt (and reveled in doing so.)
	“Uh, Marsha,” Robert said beginning to sweat and contemplate the mysteries of life, “this could—uh, lead to something.”
	“I know,” Marsha said looking up adoringly to her daddy, “it’s your birthday!”
	Robert didn’t know where this was leading but he knew where it was leading.  Continuing to pat his daughter’s bare ass he segued into caressing his daughter’s ass which led to delving his fingers into his daughter’s ass’ crack!
	And one thing led to another as most often in these cases—Marsha pulled off her dress (odd, she packed a short inappropriate dress for camping before hand?) Robert looked up the stark naked child and moaned.
	 A groan followed and then—
	“This is only a part of your gift.” Marsha said.
	Robert was afraid to inquire what the other part was.  His twelve year old daughter was naked!  No family around.  His cock got hard and as he watched his daughter’s eyes travel down and lock on that which made him a man—he knew.
	Sort of knew.
	Wasn’t sure.
	Was afraid.
	Their eyes locked and Marsha, biting her lips inward nodded.
	Robert opened his legs but was nervous about continuing.
	Marsha nodded, “It’s alright, daddy,” she cooed, “I want to.”
	Robert looked up and down the lake trails—no one.  He paused a moment, another moment, then—standing up he fished out his cock and presented it to her.  Seemed the thing to do.
	So there it was.  Cock.  Man cock.  Daddy cock.
	Marsha focused (or feasted) her eyes on it.  It was bigger than Greg’s.
	So, with her cunny tingling, and asshole threatening to release funk, heart beating hard, mind in a whirl, Marsha, went to her knees and “expertly” rolled her tongue about the super sensitive crown of her daddy’s cock.  The man almost melted.  And on her own she diddled her tongue into the piss slit!  She did!
	Robert caressed his daughter’s head then rubbed his dong against her sweet face before pressing himself against her willing lips.  The girl took the offering and suckled the head of the man cock before going down-down-down on the cock-cock-cock.
	A blowjob was in progress.