August Moone
Book 4
Still Tripping
Chapter 6
Measurable Responses

	
Desperate Measures
		The cool breeze wafting about helped soothe, not much but some.  The boughs of the pines towering above created a since of calmness. All was right with the world, sort of.  To be back home would be better, to be anywhere but where he was would be better…
	His head pounded like never before and he was virtually blind.  His hearing was none-to-good, neither.  He could smell, though, the scent of FEAR was great within him.
	He sat still for a while.  A long while.  Slowly his aches and pains and discomforts settled and ebbed away to nothingness.  He had a new worry, the “thing” in his noggin was not reliable.
	He gathered, though, that his “thing” had been interrupted; a higher band frequency had come into play and overridden his own.  This would not do, he would have to do something about that, and soon.  Just how was elusive to him.  He tried not to fret about it, and virtually decreed unto himself to lay off the “attempt” to overwhelm anyone.
	He took a long drag off the cigarette then flicked out the window.  His hands still shook, he could feel his heart pounding tenaciously inside his chest.  That had been close, too close.  There would be no explaining it away, his hands on a little girl--her panties down, his cock hard.  He could attempt to fake it and blame the ‘implant”, but that would only carry him so far.  Naturally, whoever WAS in charge of the damned thing would erase his records and disavow any knowledge of him or the implant.  (and of course, he had already seen to the destruction of the Operative House…)
	Inasmuch as the fat German cook had caught him by surprise; he, too had caught the fat German cook off guard, too.  Time was short, timing was everything; the little girl’s screams alerted everyone; quickly he bowled his way into the fat German cook and into the kitchen.  The back door was seen and there go he did--and in damn quick hurry.
	Shouts and screams filled the evening air, into a direction unknown he bolted, trying to decide quickly should he stick to the roads, countryside, or forests.  He basically cut across a farmer’s field--falling several times.  But the field was the darkest and he was in good form for running.
	Flashing lights of the German police he could see behind him, way behind him.  They were not following.  For a moment he stopped to catch his breath.  At the time he did not know what had happened, only that the usually reliable Implant failed him--and right at the critical.  If were to engage it again he would have to have some form of guarantee.  
	After crossing the great sugar beet field and some miles thru a forest, he emerged onto a small country lane.  He was totally lost and no idea into what direction he was to make for his Unit, his ultimate goal.  Slowly he mosied down the lane, one direction was as good as any other.
	When the lights of a car came in way or another he bailed out of view.
	At length he came to another small German town.  He sized it up and noted its name then checked his map.
	Map?
	Map?
	What map?
	His heart sank, his balls swelled.  “SHIT!” he had left the small knapsack Father Francis had given him back at that little restaurant.  Critical evidence.  Well, maybe not; just some food and such, the knapsack was nondescript, as was the food.  But the map--the map had the city of which he was making for circled, and a line drawn from the town he had began in to it.
	Not good.
	He cussed some more and kicked the ground.
	There was naught to do about it, he sure as hell wasn’t going back!
	A small sporty red German car caught his attention, it was actually NOT German make but English.  It sat parked out with some other so so German cars and Forrest made his way to it quickly.  The car was parked in front of a large multi structure house where there was loud music billowing out of.  A party of some sort was in progress.
	He was mere inches from the car when a door opened and the blaring music nearly deafened him and blew him away.  The door shut, Forrest hid under a nearby vehicle and watched as two young peoples descended a small set of iron stairs to the ground.
	They spoke in German and had the appropriate accent.
	Forrest only got the gist of what they were saying, mostly it was one telling the other “I’ve got to go.”
	“Ich gehe nach Hause.” spoke the girl sort of hurriedly.
	“Aufenthalt, Bitte!”
	The girl was adamant, however; she was not about to stay.
	“Belastigen Sie mich nicht!” then, “Ich muss Heim gehen.”
	“Was ist los?” the boy asked trying to keep the pretty girl from leaving.
	“Nichts.” (nothing)  the boy shrugged, the girl shook her head, she brushed her hand to his cheek and seemingly offered him a slight smile, again; though, she repeated, “I’ve got to go home.”
	The boy smiled and sighed, nodding his head he leaned to kiss her, 
	“Ice liebe dich!” she said, pressing her fingers to his lips halting his progress.  “Bis morgen!”
	The door opened and the party noise spilled out into the night.  Voices called to the boy, he turned to the girl who was already climbing into her red English sports car--unaware she had a passenger.

	He had ridden with German taxi drivers, they drove FAST.  The had complete command of their vehicles and knew exactly how to use the full potential of operation.  The German girl, Arina, was likewise, a taxi driver in training (or INDY, NASCAR, Dirt Track/Construction Derby…)  In the ultra small backseat he clung for his life as German countryside whizzed by at warp speed.
	When he had gained some of his senses, he went against decree; he closed his eyes and blanked out the blaring music the girl had put on the car’s stereo--he had learned how to blank out offensive music/noise from those of whom he had to share quarters with.
	With that accomplished, he set his Thoughts onto the driver.
	‘Pull over.  Pull the fuck over!’
	Amazingly there was success.
	He had her, then, turn the music off as well as the engine.
	After securing the keys and clambered out of the car to stretch.
	The girl was under his control.
	So he sat.  and he sat.  and he sat.  and he sat some more.
	Something had happened, at the restaurant, an interference he gathered.  But what was the source?  How?  He couldn’t figure it.  He deemed that he probably never would.  It could have been a simple malfunction of the Unit Implant itself, his physiology, or something else entirely.  (or a combo of all the above…)
	It soured his mood and fouled him.
	But so far--he seemed back on track.
	After getting the girl’s name, he commanded her to scoot into the passenger’s seat.  The seat let down, too.  The steering wheel on the driver’s side tilted up, he put the stick shift forward and leaned back in the driver’s seat himself.
	Slowly he felt of Arina’s crotch.
	No reaction from her.
	He squeezed her breasts, tweaking the nipples, Arina’s didn’t even blink.  He sighed, it was working again.  Again.  But for how long?  He wished he could be able to dislodge the thing and work on it, or bury it.  It was a curse, a bane.  He could do without it.
	A car roared by, its brake lights came on several hundred yards down the lane, but that was only to slow it down at the turn up the hill.  Then it was heard powering onward.  An army truck roared by nextly.  Then all was quiet and still.
	Easily he goaded the girl into taking her tight German jeans down.
	His hands went up and down her legs, squeezing at her crotch.  The pale moonlight filled the car’s interior and gave a nice luminance to the 20 year old’s body.
	His mouth engulfed a bare breast, her shirt was undone and her bra cups flipped up.  There was no reaction from the hapless zoinked out girl; no headache for Forrest Finch. 

	Slowly her French-cut panties were inched down her long legs.  Her pussy was already a little moist--whether from her adamant boyfriend at the party, naughty thoughts on her own, being tantalized while “unconscious” or simply “just because” wasn’t clear.  He didn’t care, either.
	Once the undies were at the girl’s ankles Forrest parted her legs and “got busy” fingering and fondling Arina’s pussy.  The girl slowly moaned some.  Forrest pushed his clothing down and crawled atop the girl.  His cock rested against her poon, he continued suckling on her lovely young mounds, slowly his mind emptied and settled.  Slowly he slid his schlong into her cunny; it was well received and he took his time.
	She wasn’t a virgin, but she was still snug fitting.  Her cunny nicely enveloped his cock and eased him inward.  Slowly he pumped, seriously striving to take his time.  Another big army truck roared by, followed by a couple of cars.
	It had been a while since he had really-really taken his time at screwing.  He thought he had with Maria and Laura, and Netti.  Even Lt. Saro and Casper; and in some respects he supposed that he did, but it was mostly humping to hump to hump to the ultimate achievement.
	With Arina he took his time; sliding in and out, bringing his over sensitive cock head to just the inner folds of the girl’s pussy, then plunging back in to full bore--albeit SLOWLY.
	Finally the pivotal moment arrived.  The surge came through his cock and there was no stopping it--not that he wanted to, anyways.  He gyrated his hips and drove DEEP into the cunny of love, pulled out some and plunged back in, twisted gyrated and went into the finale.
	Arina humped back, gripping his sweaty backside and enjoying the fuck.  And it was enjoyable.  He filled the girl’s pussy deeply and fully.  He felt the moment of the lust plummeting, his cock softening still nestled inside the lovely cunt.  He let it languish there, although there was usually great pleasure on the “withdraw”, too.
	He rested on the girl beneath him, still suckling her breasts, his mind at ease.  He was almost asleep when a convoy of army trucks rumbled by.  A night light stabbed thru the darkness into the interior of the car--a chorus of laughter erupted from the gaggling onlookers.  Forrest flipped them off and cussed them in German.

                                                  *****

	He needed chow, he needed some semblance of normalcy back in his life.  Once close call can ruin your whole day.  His Minding Ability seemed to be back on track, when the onset of a headache of nausea began to come on he activated his Interrupter and that stopped it.  
	Feeling his oats (so to speak) he drove thru three small German hamlets and then to a moderate town that was a scooch from being a city.  He found that he was able to control Arina quite easily, in that she willing obeyed him and accepted him as an authoritive figure.  
	From her he learned where he was and how far he was from where he wanted to be.  She knew no one in the town they were in, but had visited it a few times with friends.  Of course, that wasn’t to say anyone who knew her wouldn’t be there--but be that as it may; they stopped at a restaurant for lunch.
	His command of the German language wasn’t necessary, not with the extraordinary ability of the Implant enabling linguistics; he merely needed to think of what he wanted and transmit the thought to the Subject.  The Subject was “unaware” that a verbal convo had not taken place.  
	He relaxed a little more, his earlier decree he had decreed to himself that he had broken soiled him.  He knew better, he shouldn’t have risked it, not in such a public place.  He should have realized that there could be a failure.
	But--be that as it may…
	A new sensation was brewing, festering; in that Arina seemed quite content being with him.  He had complete control of her (of her mind) and she was oblivious to the fact that she had a mind.  She acted normally, spoke well, was cheerful, but the implementation to believe Forrest Finch was--was--was her Gatte (husband.)

Lo & Behold
	After lunch it was a leisurely drive thru the countryside, taking the LONG route homeward bound.  He had to think.  He had to consider.  He had to ponder.  The tunes that Arina listened to were a few decades out of Forrest’s listening genre, but he was cool with it, it kept her happy and oblivious.
	He pondered about her, too.
	What could he do with her?
	Could he take her as his wife?
	Surely not.
	Too much paperwork, her family, his family, the Army…
	He wouldn’t be able to get her out of the country.
	So he fucked her.
	Again.
	And again.
	And then once more…
	Each time was done in “slow mode.”  no need to hurry.  He took his time and enjoyed it; once in the car (again), once alongside the car in a grassy ditch.  Then out in the woods along the road less traveled, then back into the car for a finale fuck.
	No oral or even anal!
	No spanking or peeing on her, either.
	He felt something for her, though.  She was quite pretty, young, pretty, and very fuckable.  He could easily communicate with her telepathically so that was no worry about communication problems.	
	But there was more.  Love?  Could it be?  
	Or a yearn for that semblance of normalcy thing?  He didn’t really see himself spending years in the Army, no way.  It was too fucked up.  But back in the World, the States--a nice home, car, and a job.  Tying that all together would be a love interest--like say a wife?
	Could there be another woman like Arina?
	How much trouble would there be in making officials beckon to his yearning?  To make documents and such as the like?  With the Army he didn’t foresee any problems paperwork wise; but the German government, Arina’s family?
	He sighed and leaned back in the driver’s seat.  A bane.  A curse.  The Implant he could surely do without.

	Not paying attention, just driving, he zoomed into a moderate small German town.  Three blocks in he hit the brakes and skidded to a stop; in the middle of the street/block.  He threw the shifter into reverse and backed all the way back to the entrance to the town.  He stared at the little yellow sign noting the name of the town.
	‘Holy fucking ape shit!’
	He was back where he started from!
	‘No fucking way!’
	Not paying attention he had taken a road that circled back to where it all began, he could see the steeple of the church where Father Francis had sent him on his way.  He sunk into the leather seat of the English sports car.
	Should he stop in and say hello?
	He thought not, from the “other” incident involving the restaurant fiasco, the Polizei would have possibly traveled to the town to investigate.  Maybe, maybe not, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
	He drove passed the church and came to the road (the only road there was) that led out of town.  The destroyed US Government Interrogation Building was still destroyed, being cleaned up by slow moving German machines.  A small gaggle of American and German “agents” and officers of some sort of law as well as construction stood lollygagging around.
	And then there was the road block.
	‘Holy sheep shit!’
	No block to get INTO town, but there was to get out, if your destination was forward.  Forrest hit the gas and once more flew back the way he had come.  Naturally he got the attention of the officials and the Polizei manning the road block.
	He flung the Austin Martin about and off they went--with a small contingent of Polizei in hot pursuit!
	‘Shit!  Shit!  Shit!  Double fucking shit!’ Forrest cussed.  There was no time to consult Arina, who was still oblivious and still freaking out with the grunge-punk music blaring from the six speakers.  
	The Austin had more power and zip than the Polizei cars, but still--they knew the territory better.  Forrest flung the car into warp speed and hauled ass.

	Up a hill he flew at breaking speeds of light, he killed the radio and zoomed into a medium sized sleepy town at the bottom of the hill.  He slowed down and took a couple of streets that confused him.  He knew he was being noticed--which was what he did not want.
	At the end of town he backed into an already open barn that had seen better days.  The sirens wailed thru town, but none came close to his locale.  He sighed and clung to the steering wheel.  
	A long afternoon it was, he slept some but was mostly listless.  Every sound awoke him.  He peered out the cracks in the walls and door, climbed to the loft and peered out the loft door.  When all seemed clear once more he dozed.
	Only to be re-awakened by the crunching of footsteps on gravel.
	An old man was ambling to the barn, supported by a handcrafted wooden can.  
	‘Son-of-a-bitch!’ Forrest yelped to himself.  Quickly he hustled down the ladder, there was no time to start the car, there was one way out--the way the old man was coming.  In a panic that overrode common sence he grabbed Arina and carried her up to the loft and buried her in the old rotting hay.
	The great door of the barn opened and the dreary interior was filled with light.  Carefully Forrest peered over the edge of the loft, the old man was rubbing his eyes and staring at the red English Sports car.
	“Was ist diese?” the old man quipped.  He leaned down and touched the car, was surprised that it indeed was real.  He walked around to the driver’s door, was very much amused, then walked around the rear end of the car and came to the passenger’s side.  His attention was once more grabbed fully when he spotted something on the floorboard.
	Panties.
	Arina’s panties.  The old man reached in and picked them up, his jovial face smiled and he began chuckling, nodding his head.  He then looked up to the loft.
	Forrest gulped.  He couldn’t think straight, he could only lie in the molding hay in fear.
	“Sie haben zwei Stunde voran mein Sohn kommen Hause!”
	Hmmmm, two hours before the old man’s son came home.  Forrest thanked his blessings and watched as the old German placed the panties back into the car and scurried out the door, shutting it behind him.

                                                 *****

	It was a LONG walk across the compound.  He had another worry to worry about, somewhere along the way he had lost his ID, his military ID, license, pictures, credit cards, everything.  Just where he wasn’t sure, but between the attempted interrogation and coming to the gate of his Unit base.  Reaching for his wallet he found that it was gone.
	He worried mainly and mostly that the wallet was lost in Arina’s car.  That would be bad.  At the overpass he came in the middle of the night and stopped the car.  He kissed on Arina and tucked her panties into his crotch as a memento.  He then instructed her to “go home.”  Where she had been the past few (many) hours would be oblivious to her.  He “released” her and scurried on his way.  In the darkness and down the hill from the overpass he waited, watching her.
	The engine of the Austin was revved and she sped off, hitting the brakes and skidding to a stop at the bottom of the other side of the pass, then gunned the engine and hit the freeway towards home.

	A sergeant and a private manned the Gate, realizing his wallet was gone, he flashed his dogtags.  But that would necessarily gain him entry into the casern.  Although he was American, he would have to wait until morning to see the Headquarters Staff, despite spilling out his Unit name and CO.  
	The sergeant noted that he COULD call up his CO to have HIM come to the Gate and ID him (Forrest); but at 1AM in the morning, that necessarily wasn’t a good idea--unless of course he LIKED running com line through frozen tundra of some Godforsaken territory.
	‘Fine, let me in, open the fucking gate!’ he was in a foul mood, retrieving his lost wallet and its contents was going to be a hassle.  Let alone the worry of where the hell it was in the first place!
	At least his pesky bothersome Implant worked, still; the guards smiled and opened the walk-thru Gate; he turned to them, ‘Forget.’ 

	On duty at the CQ desk was Private Simmons and Staff Sergeant Kole.  Both were asleep.  The backdoor was locked, the right side door was locked.  The front door was squeaky and would alert the sleeping duo.  He wondered if he should or could.  He pissed on a bush and wondered if he could have just simply stayed with Arina?
	“Fuck it!” he commented aloud and briskly walked into the building.
	He signed in then made for his room.  It was still his room, he had been signed out “indefinitely” but with the plausibility that he would eventually return.  And his CO and Unit Staff understood that they were not allowed to ask him any questions in regards to his “temporary reassignment.”  a government thing.
	He flopped on his bed and lay there, his mind in a blur and whir over the past events.  Slowly he let out his breath.  ‘sweet sorry son-of-a-bitch!’ he mouthed to himself.  His thoughts so muddled he focused on one thing, a farm back in the World, Midwest, a cousin lived there.  It became more and more appealing.  There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of stress there; there were a couple more years to his service hitch, at the end of which time he would hook & book to Cousin Mitchell’s farm and chill the fuck out!
	But that was some years to come.
	He closed his eyes and knew no more until nearly noon hours later.

                                                    *****

	Work.  Work-work-work.  Forrest threw himself into his work, virtually shutting down/off the Implant.  He instructed others to perform his job until weeks later on he had an entire platoon of Tactical Operations Special Security-Special Advanced Logistic Adverse Deliverers (TOSS-SALADS).
	He still wasn’t overly “chummy” with anyone, he still kept with himself.  He brooded and still was paranoid to a degree, wondering about all that happened.  His wallet had not returned to him, either.
	At length he did return to the missionary house.
	Two more visits were required before the “conditions” were right; that being the “house” empty save for the Subjects--Judy, Jolene, and Jennifer.
	Lightly he probed Judy’s mind, uncovering lovely secrets--she was “involved” with her boyfriend, they had advanced from kissing and fondling to groping and mutual masturbation.  Judy was sucking him off and he was eating her out (cunnilingus).  Actual sexual intercourse had NOT yet taken place, they were fearful of the consequences.
	As for the other two?  They were mutually masturbating one another, big sister Judy involved, too; heavy fingering and tonguing one another.  They also spanked one another and almost had been caught at it.
	There came a time when for no other reason than “just because”, Forrest Finch did so infacto re-upped.  That meaning he signed on for another four years military service.  He was granted leave, 2-weeks for doing so, then he had orders sending him to Korea.
	Before leaving, though, he had one more finale fling at the missionary house.  He had the right conditions, the house empty save for the three subjects.  One by one they lined up in the living room and stripped off their clothes.  Forrest had been hard pressed in the last few weeks, traveling thru the German town and seeing the lovely-lovely young girls (and boys).
	He had Judy suck him while her sisters took their time undressing (to their panties) and walk about for his delight.  When he was ready to cum, he had Judy squat down on him--her poon had already been breached from an earlier incident--so slowly but easily his cock did make vaginal penetration.
	To continue his delight, while fucking Judy and sucking on her lovely teenage tits, he had Jolene and Jennifer 69 on the floor.  When they were in compliance he loved on Judy who loved on him.  Into Judy’s mind he implanted that she WOULD give in and make love with her boyfriend.  
	After shooting a massive wad into Judy’s swamp box, he rested a bit while having the delightful Jolene and Jennifer sit on his lap, Judy on the floor friggin’ herself.
	Both girls sucked his sore cock and managed to get him hard again, he licked on the girls; sucking their breasts and licking them out.  Laying Jolene out on the floor he humped on the pre-teen’s cunt, dragging his hard cock against her very nearly penetrating her.
	Surprisingly, especially to himself, he didn’t doink the girl, just humped.  He did likewise to Jennifer who was a couple of years younger.  He kissed on both of them, fingered their little hairless poons and when he cock was screaming for attention; he put Judy on all fours, greased up her pert tight asshole and slammed it.

                                                  *****

	His balls still ached, it was days after “slamming Judy’s asshole.”  Her hole had been nicely tight, greasing it up with butter hadn’t helped.  Maybe it did, but he did do it and he did like it.  Judy didn’t, her hole steamed and ached and probably still ached.  She was “instructed” to let her boyfriend butt fuck her, after firstly filling her hot little pussy.
	For a little vacation prior to leaving he borrowed a friend’s car and tooled down the autobahn.  He had no particular destination in mind--but found himself in familiar territory nonetheless.
	The “interrogation” building had been razed, no re-construction was in progress and it had been months since…
	Just a few blocks up he stopped and parked at the church.
	He sat in the car for a moment, it was mid morning, no one was about, a quiet Sonnabend in late Marz.  He smelt donuts.  Coffee and cinnamon.  Country life.  He could do without the lingering pig shit wafting in the air, but the other smells were okay.
	Out of the car he mosied, catching the sight of a little German girl about ten years old.  It was a little girl he had seen before.  She didn’t notice him and he went into the church.

	“Guten Morgen!” 
	The fat priest in monk’s attire whirled around, he took only a moment to recognize Forrest.
	“Guten Mo--” then, with a chuckle, “hello!  Hello!  How are you, my boy!?”
	“I’m quite well, Father, danke.”
	There was an offering of crumb cake (fresh!) and coffee.  Forrest accepted and the two friends sat down.
	“Wie geht es Ihnen? Forrest asked.
	“Sehr gut, danke, und Ihnen?”
	Forrest smiled, above all else, he was comfortable, it was the demeanor of the kindly fat priest.  He didn’t think he himself could fit into the role of being a religious figure, but the atmosphere was cordial.
	The two chatted for a while, then it was time to go.
	“I’ve got to go, my friend.”
	The old jovial priest nodded, “I thank you for stopping by.” he said, and he meant it, it was a special thing for such a man to do.

	Up a hill at breaking speeds, down the same hill at warp speed.  He wasn’t on the autobahn but simple country roads.  Casually he wondered how Father Francis would take the “find.”  On his first visit Forrest had noted the deplorable condition of the roof, there was a need for repairs to the pews and flooring, some windows and this and that.
	The church was fed by the congregation.  The peoples of the community of which the church served was small so it’s “income” was modest, enough to pay necessity bills but not much more than that.  On a pew within sight a small knapsack Father Francis would find; within several hundred German marks.  (When cashing his pay envelope (check) Forrest had Mindlinked with the teller at the bank to give him a “little more” to fatten his wallet.)  
	Being bold he absconded away with a little more w/o cashing a check, just boldly waltzing in one morning and basically “robbing” the place, though no one remembered him and he was in disguise.
	 It gave further insight to his abilities.  A thief.  He didn’t like the title, but then again--rapist, molester, extreme rapist and extreme molester.  He had Mind Control, and with it he was a dangerous-dangerous man.  

Tempting Fate
	Slowly he zoomed into the neighboring town where he had encountered Arina.  She (and her car) were no where to be seen.  That was okay, he hit the back country road and zoomed about virtually getting lost.
	But not for long.
	After getting some gas he asked for directions to a town he DID know and was once more on his way.  At the town in question he stopped for one more time to eat in an authentic German restaurant.
	Midway through his Chicken Cordon Bleu with German style scalloped potatoes, and a stein of hearty German brew in walked a family.  A family of which a family member Forrest had already gotten to know!  It had been a couple of months since, or maybe more.  He wasn’t sure.  But he WAS sure of the little girl he had been fondling, been CAUGHT fondling.
	After completing his meal he moved to a new table, whereas he could keep tabs on the family on the sly.  Two girls and a boy.  The littlest girl he had already gotten to know, well.  And the mother.  He saw rings on the woman’s hand, but whether or not she was actually married or not wasn’t clear.  Short blond hair, and lots of it coiffed her face.  She seemed lighthearted, but there was a sternness about her, too.  She spoke the language well but Forrest didn’t believe she was actually German--she was too touristy for that.
	Presently the young girl (again) came to make her way to the bathrooms.  (again)  Forrest placed a menu to shield his face; he had not the time to “wipe” her mind that fateful nite some time ago.  She passed by (without stopping).  Using peripheral vision he checked her progress.  When she was at the corner to the short “T” all to the restrooms he Mindlinked with her.
	‘Stop.’
	Cocking his head just so, with menu still up, he noted that the young girl had indeed, “stopped.”  He paused a moment and found himself almost arising, to go to her and complete the task he had started months earlier.
	But he caught himself and kept his butt firm in the burgundy vinyl seat.  The Subject wore a short midthigh pleated navy blue skirt.  He cocked his head to and fro (popping it) and ‘Raise your skirt.’ he linked to her, checking the immediate status of her family and any others.
	The coast was clear and the Subject girl indeed raised her skirt.
	He got a brief glimpse of her panties.
	His balls surged, his cock strengthen.
	‘Go on.’ he minded to her, ‘go on about your business.’
	She did.  He imagined her sitting on the toilet doing whatever.  He wanted to be in the stall with her, his cock in her mouth, peeing down her chest, listening to her pee, or poop, fart, whatever.  She was a cutey.  Inasmuch as he had wanted badly to have Arina for himself, he desired likewise for the Subject.
	In just a few minutes she was coming back.  He had heard the wooden door to the bathroom slam shut and he brisk little walk back to her family.
	‘Stop.’ he commanded of her (again.)  She did, just passed his table.
	He directed her to the alcove where there was a half wall topped with ivy plants.  In the area where Forrest was, there were four quaint discreet tables, one of which Forrest occupied.  The other three were empty.  
	The Subject moved to the alcove, facing the side wall.  She was completely hidden, well, from side views anyways.  
	‘Bend over.’ then, ‘Like you’re picking something up from the floor.’
	Slowly there was compliance, the Subject girl bent over, not stooping.
	‘Pull your panties down, just to expose one cheek.’
	Forrest was close to whipping out his dick and jerking it right then and there.  He was also close to rushing up to the girl and doinking her!
	With the lovely half cheek viewing, he was satiated--for the moment.  He sent the girl on before her family began to worry and come looking for her.  Clutching the water glass in his hand he damn near broke it.  His body was tight, tense.  His cock was screaming nearly bursting thru his pants.

	Pretending to have a nose cold he held his kerchief to his nose to continued concealing his face should it be necessary.  He also walked mostly sideways facing away from the Subject Family.  His bill had already been paid and out the door he went.
	Evening type time was approaching.  A myriad of thoughts ravaged his mind, he popped his neck again and sauntered to his car.  He merely sat there, though; for a moment or so his mind was blank, empty, void of thought whimsy or otherwise.
	Presently the Subject family emerged from the restaurant; they made for their car.  It was the last thing they knew.
	…until, that is, they “awoke” in a new setting, a horrifying setting.

	The Noshbaum family.  Consisting of Rene Noshbaum, the mother.  Her two daughters Keri-10 and Katlynn-14 and son Karl-12, were adorable, cute, and handsome.  The Q&A factor Forrest was beginning to get a handle on, it gave wondrous insight on the Subjects; like:  Karl having a serious boner for his sister AND mother.  Katlynn merely had an obsession with masturbation, and spying on her brother when HE masturbated.  Keri was just at the beginning stage of self sexual exploration.
	There was an inordinate fascination with Rene, the mother.  The short blond hair, and lots of it, her poise, her demeanor, her persona.  She reminded him of a school teacher he once had a fascination with--er, “crush” actually.  
	The teenager, Katlynn, wore jeans, tight German jeans with a loose blouse top.  Light brown hair she had, mid shoulder length, blue eyes.  At fourteen she had poise and persona, too.  
	Then there was Keri, super skinny, long legged, long blond hair, slender is as slender does.  She was cute.  Damn cute.  She had a pleasantness about her, soft alluring skin, and a nice ass.  Forrest saw himself dribbling his cum onto that ass, as well as her damn cute face, damn cute.
	Karl, the boy, was a treasure, too.  Not too young and not too old.
	One by one he had zapped them with his Mind, directing them easily to the side of the restaurant where he pulled up in his (friend’s) car and got them all loaded in.  Then a quick drive to a nearby wooded area and out into it.  (and one flat tire later…)
	There were several ways to go about it; simple straight forward, seductive, seducing, forced, awareness, a little of all the above?  Being mindful of the consequences of overtaxing his mental abilities, he had the family be slightly aware of what was happening.  More for the benefit of seeing and knowing what was horrifyingly happening to them.
	Focusing his attention on the mother, Rene, he had her undress.
	Her children were a little alarmed.  Rene herself was greatly so.
	But she found herself unable to resist.
	When she got done to her panties she was stopped.  Her girls had seen her in her underwear, and even less.  Son Karl had, too, but only glimpses and glances.  Probing into his young noggin it was learned that he DID have a slight fantasy about being with his mother--BEING with his mother.
	But the situation at hand was out of the ordinary and frightened the family rather than anything else.  After Rene Noshbaum was to her undies, she was to her knees--so as she could see her children go thru THEIR paces.
	The family was well enough “aware” of their Tormentor, just unable to do anything about it.  How they were being forced to do the things they were doing (or to do) they did not understand.
	Katylnn and Keri had the unmitigated task of undressing their brother.
	Karl tried to fuss, as did his sisters, as did his mother.  Forrest had to kick up his “will of mind” over them and there was compliance.  Karl Noshbaum was stripped down to his Birthday Suit, his little penis dangling in a shriveled form, too frightened to be engorged.
	Sister Katlynn was “commanded” to stroke her brother’s dong while sister Keri was commanded to cup and fondle his balls!  Both girls were crying and generally carrying on; their mother visibly horrified.
	Karl’s sister’s, too, caressed his young ass, further sending strength to the boy’s cock.  When it was quite stiff, sister Katlynn was commanded strongly to go down on him.  She resisted.  Her Tormentor insisted and at last she obeyed.
	Much to the awe of Katlynn, the shock of Keri, the delirious wonderment of Karl himself.  Their mother sat on her knees clad merely in her panties totally out of her mind.
	A few minutes of oral workup from sister Katlynn and then it was Keri’s turn, she got the task of ball washing.  (It was noted that though Katlynn protested, she didn’t retch or gag when sucking her brother’s cock.)
	Keri retched when sucking on her brother’s balls, she wasn’t pleased about it in the least.  She caressed his num and engulfed the whole of his nut sac, then took a bob on his knob for a moment.  
	Thereafter, following a theme--Karl undressed his sisters.
	Naturally they wailed, including Karl.  Their mother, Rene, was freaking out, she tried focusing on the Tormentor, the lone figure who seemed to be instructing the horrible doings.  
	Karl had little trouble lifting off Keri’s skirt outfit, but his hands trembled and paused when having to shuck her panties.  Keri twisted and fussed, clenched up her little body and dramatically made a scene.  Unlike others who had a Device of one type or another, implementing “pain” Forrest Finch did not have.
	He let the group have their fit, when it persisted passed the allotted time he wrenched little Keri to himself and swatted her ass.  Karl tried to intervene as did Katlynn and their mother, Rene.  To know avail as Forrest’s “hold” on their minds prevented them so.  He made them back down and endure:  he lowered Keri’s panties to mid thigh and holding her to his body in a standing position he swatted her.  Repeatedly.
	After several harsh swattings he paused, Keri had her face into his side too stunned and hurt to fuss or cry out any further.  Her hands caressing her searing bare ass.
	‘Now, you little shit,’ he bitched to Karl, ’when I fucking well say do something, you fucking well DO IT!  Got it!?’ the boy indeed “got it.”  he was very well frightened, he breathed hard and his cock was hard.

	Cool breezes wafted thru the tall pines, the scene was serene, cool, and picturesque.  Birds chirped, squirrels flittered about on the limbs of the trees, it was quite a lovely picturesque atmosphere.  And would have been perfect had it not been for the horror of the Noshbaum family.
	Young Keri and Karl stood butt bare ass naked.  Brother Karl had stripped down his young sibling, sniffed the crotch of her panties before hugging her and then cupping her ass.  His hard cock pressed against her body; both wept continuously.
	When the boy had settled down (enough), he was set upon to undress older sister, Katlynn.  Katlynn was in near hysterics.  Her Tormentor sought to calm her, and had to do likewise unto her mother and young sister, too.
	The stirrings of a headache began to arise.  He sighed and hoped he could curb it.  He discovered something else, as the headache tried to progress and he utilized the little device that interrupted such happening, for a moment there was no connection to the family members.
	Fortunately, they were unaware that they were temporarily free of the mind hold.  When their Tormentor regained control of his Ability, the shenanigans continued.

	Katylnn had to lay out on the grass.  Brother Karl undone her turquoise jeans and removed them.  A nice pair of normal bikini panties greeted him.  The boy curbed his upset emotions and locked eyes on his sister.
	He then was ushered in to continuing, removing her shirt and bra.
	He fondled her medium sized apple-sized titties, then sucked on each one while fondling/groping/fingering her pussy.  His young pud became more and more stiffer.  Sister Keri very reluctantly placed her hand up between her brother’s legs and fondled his swelled ball sac, followed by stroking his 4 inch cock.  She had to, too, kiss his ass--each cheek.
	Finally he was sliding Katylnn’s panties off.  He sniffed them and then once more locked his eyes onto her most holy of holy.  He was speechless, inside and out.  Totally awed was he at his sister nakedness.  He DID yearn to fuck her, he wanted to fuck Keri, too--AND his mother!
	But there was that moralistic thing to deal with, though he WANTED to, he couldn’t--er, he shouldn’t.  he was in agony.  His Tormentor sought to ease the boy’s agony,
	‘Lay on her.’ he said.
	The boy gulped, he sweated, he licked his lips and looked around.
	‘Go on, do it!’
	Slowly the boy moved and lay on his naked terrified sister Katlynn.
	Keri sat on her knees beside them, rubbing her young hand on her brother’s bare ass as he humped.  He wasn’t “in” sister Katlynn, but close counts.
	After only a couple of enduring agonizing moments the boy was so directed to make “penetration.”  His sister Katlynn was instructed to “help.”  there was much ado about bellyaching and cringing, weeping, and protesting, but in the end the Tormentor’s desire to see sibling sex was granted.
	Katlynn was a virgin, she experienced slight discomfort on the intrusion of her brother’s cock.  But afterward they got into a rhythm and fucked--still with young Keri caressing brother Karl’s ass.
	Seconds lapsed into minutes, the humping elapsed into nearly four minutes before the young boy finally coaxed an orgasm.  He was beside himself when the pivotal moment came--and came--and came…
	He had jerked his organ before, but never to the achievement of which he was experiencing while doinking his sister.  Katlynn didn’t share in the enjoyment; she was still pissed, frightened, horrified, and all other emotions to relax enough and enjoy getting dicked.
	The boy used his own underwear to clean his cock, balls, and thighs from the broken hymen of his sister.  Katlynn used her own panties to do likewise to herself.
	Then, Keri was “ordered” to lay down.
	All surmised what was going to happen.  Everyone got highly emotionally, although brother Karl was not so much, he was more into accepting.  He didn’t care for the forced situation, but he could live with it.
	But he didn’t rightly “lay on her” to fuck, it was his tongue, firstly, going down and eating his sister out, finger fucking her asshole.  Keri wriggled as she was tongued and finger--both intrusions she didn’t care for and freaked out greatly.

	It was thought Karl would surely fuck his sister Keri.  But that was not so.  After several minutes of sibling cunnilingus the boy moved to face his mother.  His mother, Rene, was virtually out of her mind.  She was the wife of a military man, she and the family had come from the States to live with him during his tour of duty.  They had family in the area and had gone to visit while the hubby/daddy was away at work.  (he was a captain in the tank corp.)
	Rene, the mother, had to lay out on the grassy ground, hands to her sides, legs out straight.  Keri and Katlynn flanking her had to hold her legs back while Karl pulled the panties up her legs to her ankles where they stayed (helping lock the legs in place to keep them from flailing all about.)
	The boy knew what was to come.  To come.  To come and come.
	But first, their was cunnilingus!
	His mom’s cunt was a little more furrier than that of sister Katlynn’s, Keri had no fur whatsoever of her young snatch.  The boy went down, fingering the poon that had bore him, pulling the “lips” apart and then applying his tongue.

The Other Half of Horror
	After his tongue came his cock.  Young Karl Noshbaum was directed (strongly) to crawl up between his mother’s legs and “insert” his preteen schlong.  There was some resistance, which was natural--but there, too, was desire to comply.  It just had to look good was all.  
	His sisters still had to hold their mother’s legs back as well as caress their brother’s ass (as he fucked).  When after he had achieved the ultimate to his sin, the other half of the horror was to begin.
	The other half of horror came with Karl still laying on his mother, but on her chest, his cock nestled between her very ample breast, her hands locked on his ass.  On their knees sisters Keri and Katlynn faced the nakedness of their Tormentor--especially his massive fuck stick.  He stroked it, pulled it, tugged it, flopped it--then pressed it against their lips and face.
	At length he pushed it passed their lips and into their mouths for a tedious five minute oral session.  The family was horrified, simply fucking horrified.  When the Tormentor began to cum, he shot a gob of love cream into the youngest girl firstly, then a gob into the older girl, then doused both girls’ on their face until he was drained.
	He took a moment to allow his cock sufficient “rest”.  the girls went through the motions of gagging, retching, heaving; they wept and cried and blubbered, too.  Their mother was beyond emotional upheaval and lay watching the horror with her son humping her breasts in dreaded silence.
	After sufficient rest period, each girl had some minutes to “revitalize” their Tormentor’s cock--by sucking on his balls, rubbing his ass and then; by 69ing one another--Keri on top.  They were instructed in the fine measures of how to tongue one another, their hand placement on each other’s ass.  There was a lot of bellyaching about it, crying, and carrying on--typical stuff.
	The Tormentor knelt down behind, Keri, caressed her ass and indeed his swollen limp member returned to full functioning fuck mode.  He parted the girl’s cheeks--a headache was coming on, it was getting a tad bit darker; he squeezed the cheeks then began a bout of licking and anal probing.
	For added assurance that the family would never ever be the same, especially the mother, Keri came to rest on her mother, on her face.  Brother Karl scooted down so as where he was positioned so as where sister Keri could once more service his cock.
	The Tormentor continued his horror, finger fucking young Keri as she lay positioned on her mother’s face.  He went down and tongued her hole some more, pulled the cheeks and eyed the delightful clenching asshole and hairless poon.
	Taking notice that she was NOT sucking her brother’s dick as instructed, the Tormentor had the boy come hither, to come around to his sister’s back business end.  There was reluctance, he knew what was to come.  
	Timidly he did so, though.  His young pud was stiff, and slickered up from the few slurps of his sister before she stopped.  ‘Fuck her hole.’ came the command.  The boy gulped, blinked his eyes--a dream cum true but he was not so inclined for it to be so in such a dire situation.
	But a harsh smack to his ass and the threat that sister Katlynn would receive extreme punishment prompted the boy to saddle up and stuff Keri’s asshole.  His mother, underneath, trembled, grabbed up handfuls of grass and wept uncontrollably.
	Karl went thru the motions of “servicing” his little sister asshole, when he had come to the point of orgasming, the Tormentor began smacking his ass, grabbing his balls and squeezing, intensifying the ordeal.  Sister Katlynn who had been in torment watching had been instructed to come suck on her mother’s cunt.
	The boy was pushed after he had done his business--it was now the Tormentor’s turn.  Keri clung to her mother desperately as she was penetrated by the much larger cock.  She bit into her mother’s skin (unknowingly) as the massiveness of the cock was incredible.
	There soon was, though, an easement, the young girl’s anus had been sufficiently “prelubed” by her brother’s cock.  The Tormentor masterfully fucked the young girl’s hole until he himself filled it--with his love cream.
	He sat back for a moment, watching the hole slowly close, oozing cum, dripping cum down onto her tormented mother’s face.  The ordeal had been an amazing one, he sat on his ass against a stump, legs out, lightly/methodically fondling himself--he would need some time to “recover.”
And then…
	It was Katlynn’s turn.
	It took, again, young Karl to butt hump his sister.  The Tormentor needed the scene to help perpetuate his cock into fuck mode.  He smacked the boy’s ass and watched as his balls slapped to and fro, his mother highly distraught underneath freak out as she watched her son do the deed above her.
	The Tormentor himself came around and to further give life to his cock he licked on the mother’s cunt, fingered it, spanked it, and then--returned to Katlynn and her butt fucking brother, pushed the boy aside again and reamed the teen girl’s hole.
	After several long enduring minutes of deep anal probing, the Tormentor entered into euphoria and filled the deep recess with splooge.  Lots and lots of gooey splooge.  To say the young teens asshole smoldered would be an understatement.
	Again he pulled free and sat back to watch the hole slowly return to normal size, squeezing out his sperm as it did so.  His cock could surely do no more.  But--it would.

                                                 ****

	A nightingale made its melodic noise just after midnight, a bluethroat was detected, too, as well as a hungry woodpecker.  The air was cool, scented with pines, wildflowers, and other pleasantries.  All was serene.
	The moonlight flooded lightly into the serene area of woods, Keri was curled up into her big sister, Karl was curled up behind Katlynn (the big sister.)  Rene, the mother, lay nearby--her hands and feet secured by her discarded clothing; she listlessly drifted in and out of consciousness and sleep.  The Tormentor sat away from them, drifting in and out of listless sleep himself.
	Come the first rays of sunshine, the horror of the Noshbaum family returned.  Keri and Katlynn were set up the task of “sucking” cock, they first sucked their brother’s then their Tormentor’s.  
	Then it was the mother, Rene’s, turn.
	She seriously had a problem slurping schlong of her young son.  Even with “insistence” from the Tormentor there was strong protest.  So Keri once more suffered the indignity of being swatted.  The family had moved deeper into the forest and further away from peoples, or any possible peoples, so Keri’s screams of dire distress were not heard.
	Unable to rescue her daughter, or the siblings to come to her aid, either--the mother, Rene, went down on her son, Karl, and sucked his little dick.
	She slurped on his balls and caressed his ass, too.
	Katlynn expressed the need to pee and so she did; while sitting on her knees and legs apart.  A strong steady stream of hot piss splashed from her furry snatch.  It gave both Karl and the Tormentor a terrific erection.
	The Tormentor then sized up the mother…
	Keri was consoled by her sister, Karl masturbated watching as his mother was fucked.  The view was for the kids’ benefit, they got to see the penetration of their Tormentor’s cock slamming into their mother’s pussy.  Rene’s legs flailed all about as she was laid, the flailing legs were finally corralled and pushed back in a locked position--this allowed the family directly behind to see the Tormentor’s cock, his flapping balls. their mother’s pussy, and their mother’s asshole!
	And after a few brief minutes, the Tormentor switched from slamming the mother’s pussy to stuffing her backdoor.  The children behind were stunned and watched in total awe and dire disbelief.
	It was back and forth; asshole, pussy; pussy, asshole.  Then repeat.
	The Tormentor finally unleashed a hellish orgasm, jutting gobs and gobs of love cream into the woman’s asshole; he managed to pull out and fill her pussy for the finale.
	Thereafter he was spent.
	He made Karl fuck his sisters.
	He liked that--so did Karl!

                                                    *****

	He sat for a long time on the rock.  He knew there was an evil grip on him, on his mind and soul.  He wasn’t a killer, not unless it was him or whoever.  He was many things, and of late those things were becoming out of control.  He just liked sex, he liked control, he liked watching others having sex, he liked watching others have sex with others who would not normally do so.
	Where the car was was a little unknown.  He had traveled the family Noshbaum thru the dead of night and gotten himself promptly lost.  He figured on simply finding a road and walking until he found familiar territory, then--then wander around until he found the car.
	A small path he found, it wandered one way and then the next thru the lush dense green-very green forest.  The smell of “food” lingered and drew him closer and closer until last he came upon the backend of a small town.  
	After stuffing himself he sat back to suck on a tall stein of German beer, brooding.  He was sure the family would be alright, well--physically anyways.  But--they WERE quite a ways into the woods; and plunked down in a hole that was concealed.  They were still bound up, but he thought they might just be able to get out of their clothes binding them and scramble out.
	There weren’t any bears or other baddies to bother them.
	But still…
	With a couple of “take-out” type bags of hot food and some bottles of drink he made his way back thru the forest to the spot where he had placed the Noshbaum family.   It was a spot along a huge hill whereas one side had gave way due to rot and heavy rains.  A large tree there on the hill had leaned some and beneath its massive roots created a “hole” that was fairly deep.  
	But the family Noshbaum was not therein.
	Forrest the Tormentor Finch gulped and panicked.  He whirled around wildly, but saw not and heard not.  ‘Sweet sorry son-of-a-bitch!’

	Thankfully it was not too hard to find their trail; there were broken limbs of bushes and cast off clothing--in their haste to free themselves they had not put their clothes BACK on!
	They just wanted to be away.
	Forrest saw them, across a creek and up a hill.  He made strides to keep himself from being seen and boogied towards them parallel-like.  And in HIS haste, he took a little tumble.  He tumbled, rolled, and clunked his head on a log at the bottom of a small hill.
	For a moment or two he was unconscious.
	When he came around from that, he was dazed.
	He needed a few minutes to gather himself.  There was a slight buzzing in his ear, like an insect.  He shook it off, but it persisted.  He sat for a moment, until it cleared.
	He still felt at odds with himself, dizzy and warm; but the Noshbaum family was most on his mind and he returned to seeking them out.  
	And he found them, at least one of them, lagging behind; young Keri.  She was not too far behind her family, they were all hastily seeking a way out of the dense woods, hopelessly lost and still quite naked.  Forrest eased up on the girl, he could just see the head of Karl up ahead, slowing down to let his little sister catch up.
	“Come on, Keri, hurry up!” the boy wailed.
	Keri came thru the brush, carried securely by the former and still undefeated Tormentor.
	“Ahem!” he called out.
	The others stopped and looked about; they were horrified, dismayed, and heartbroken.  They couldn’t believe it, their luck.  The boy was pushed to his sister Katlynn and mother, Rene.  Into a small clearing they were directed, the completion of the Tormentor’s doings unto the family was not yet complete.
	There would be a difference, though--the Tormentor noted that he did no longer seem to have Minding Powers.  Like before, there was nothing there, nothing--like it had never been there at all!

	Utilizing Nature, the family was once more secured, using twine from bushes, his own shoe laces and clothing.  The family Noshbaum was naked still.  He had collected bits of their own clothing that was still suitable for securing purposes.
	He was not so angered, it was to be expected--a captive was expected to make an escape.  But he took Keri firstly anyways to his lap and spanked her bum until it was near puce.  Then he did likewise to Katlynn.  He then had Karl lick the girls’ searing bums, including their cracks, cunnies, and especially their pooter holes.
	The family did note that the previous “power” previously held over them no longer seemed to be a constant.  But they still couldn’t do much about it, if any on of them tried anything (like escaping) Keri would suffer, as she was the one kept to the Tormentor’s reach.	
	Katlynn received the Tormentor, by noon of the day, after a bit of lunch; she was noshed on herself--all the while she slurped on her brother’s cock and balls.  Then the Tormentor lay on her, driving his rock hard hardness into her cunny and pumping her into sheer oblivion.
	Karl laid into his mother and little sister.
	When it came time for Katlynn to have to poop, she had to do so with everyone watching; she came to be on her hands and knees, legs apart, cheeks apart, and let the pooping begin!  The others had to perform likewise.
	Little Keri was plowed into lastly, brother Karl and sister Katlynn were 69ing nearby, Karl on top of his sister, their mother tied to a tree totally out of her ever living mind.  Power fucking Keri the Tormentor went into his own oblivion, the joy of fucking such a tight twat was unbelievable.
	He repeated the deed some hours later.
	Inasmuch as he had likened to have Arina as his “wife”, Keri would fit easily into that mould, too.  He showered her with a urine splash and then as nightfall came he escorted the young gal thru the woods, along with her brother.  
	The mother was tied up and left.

	Keri walked before her brother, Katlynn behind her brother, the Tormentor behind them all.  Walking nakedly was a pleasure for the Tormentor, seeing his captives’ young asses wiggle was a pure pleasure!
	Climbing over boulders and logs, Keri usually went first--so as her brother could help hoist her up with his hands placed on her ass, his eyes taking in her ass, crack, and cunny.  Katlynn also needed help from her brother; Karl had a raging boner going by the time they came to the first encampment.  The boy was put thru his paces, licking his sisters cracks while they were on all fours; the girls slurping on the Tormentor’s cock.
	Karl got the instructed command to “stuff” a hole.  He wasn’t told “which” hole, just “stuff a hole.”  And he was behind sister Keri at the time of the command.  The boy was already shagged out, he had been licking out both sisters, their pussy and asshole.  He was in a bad way.
	The Tormentor had Katlynn lay out and then he himself settled onto her face, making the girl suck his balls.  She missed her brother sodomizing the little sister.  The boy closed his eyes during the act, he was half into it and half appalled and dismayed.  But he did it anyways.
	He came, too.  A great quantity of jiz.  He pumped and pumped, clung to his sister’s young ass hips and humped to his heart’s (cock’s) content.  Then he humped a little more.  Then a little more.  Straining and straining until he was absolutely spent.  Then he withdrew and smeared his soiled schlong all over her tender little ass; sat back and watched her hole close.
	Both girls were let be--for a while.  They were caressed and fondled, fingered and licked on.  Katlynn’s young mounds were the subject of much suckling by the Tormentor and her brother, Karl.  Brother Karl spanked both his sisters and they in turn spanked him!
		
                                               *****

AHN-NYUNG HA-SEH-YO!
	Welcome to Korea, now go away
	As masterfully as he had succeeded in developing language skills of the Fatherland, he would not do so with the new land, Korea.  It had two seasons, Hot & Cold; with varying varieties of temp within those two to the extremes.  A diverse land, with deep rooted sentiments of equal varying degrees with its peoples. 
	For the G.I.s at Camp Casey in Tongduchon, 20 kilometers from the demilitarized zone separating the two Koreas, about the only place for an evening's entertainment is "downrange," or "the 'ville" so aptly named by the denizens of afore mention Camp Casey.  Barely 100 meters from Camp Casey's main gate, a sleazy mile of seedy bars, greasy-spoon restaurants and shops hawking everything imaginable (and some that aint!)  But it's the bars that rule the strip: dimly lit dives with names like U.S.A., Las Vegas and Sexy Club, and signs warning that the premises are off-limits to Koreans.  
	Filipino and Russian gals in their early 20s (or less!) in micro miniskirts idle in the doorways, trying to coax G.I.s inside.  This is where U.S. soldiers head after an arduous day of drills and training.  One night after his arrival Sergeant First Class Forrest Finch traveled with three fellow sergeants from the American Midwest and sat at a table in a pizza joint.
	Dressed in T shirts and jeans, the men swig booze from a bottle and joke with each other.  They were "just chillin' out," and taking in the sights.
	“Hello, Joe!” sparked a skin tight wearing Filipino.  Long silky hair, long limbs, small busted, very early twenties, very early.  She wore way too much make-up and her perfume was masked by the “other” smells malingering in the sullen dark air of the establishment.
	“Fucky-sucky, I make you feel good long time!” she said with a wavering smile.  Finch’s two new pals busted up getting quite a kick out of the lame yammerings of the young lady.  Forrest didn’t think it all that funny, she was a working girl, a business girl who was most likely tricked into doing “tricks.”
	“DON’T GO LOOKING FOR THE DISEASE, IT’LL COME LOOKING FOR YOU!” barked the words from a master sergeant upon disembarking from the C-130 the day before.  Wise words.  Every Joe (GI) who left Camp Casey was handed out a packet of condoms from the MPs at the gate!  In the first few hours of being on the foreign soil the new arrival(s) were schooled in the “business” that could end their “business.”
	Lots of diseases known and unknown existed “downrange.”  and any damn fool Joe who got a case of the Clap, or anything else detrimental to his manhood and associative equipment--got what he deserved.  The infected Joe got a shot in the ass, the arm, and a royal chewing out from his superiors, not too mention the jokes that would abound from his foolhardy inability to keep his pants up and cock down.  Many Joes went home on a medical discharge for just foolhardy reasons.
	Finch declined the “fucky-sucky” offer and knew that the next few months were going to be tough.

MASH 1055
	There’s fucking up at dawn and then there’s waking up fucked up at dawn.  SFC Finch achieved both of these in one wallop.  Butting heads with 90-Day Wanderers who were ass-kissers as well as Brown Nosers got one dispatched to Godforsaken places God & Satan had given up on.  One such place was MASH 1055.  A Mobile Army Surgical Hospital.  There weren’t many of the units left, but they were still active and served a purpose.
	A small team of doctors and support staff headed a MASH unit, there was a motor pool, essential communications, a flight pad (up on a hill), and all the fixings to support a hospital and 58 various personnel.  SFC Finch’s task was no longer to disable communications but to ensure it--they were some many miles from the nearest military base.
	The same sleezy seedy establishments were nearby just as at Camp Casey, but not as many.  There was more camaraderie with the MASH unit, most got along with one another, including officers to enlisted and vice-versa.  It was a laxed unit and not 100% on the rigors of military protocol.  However, there were a few who were sticklers for such and raised hackles and waves whenever possible.
	Two such persons were Major Charles Burns and Major Margery Ghoulahan.   Mostly SFC Finch tried to stay out of their way and mind his own business, but the two majors often made themselves a nuisance and pestered everyone, including Finch.
	Not a lot to the Korean tour of duty, it was tedious, it was hot, it was uncomfortable, it was boring; their was poker with the officers, flirting with the nurses, spying on the nurses, and repeat.  
	An incident occurred, toward the end of his duty tour; as usual he was minding his own business when into the command quarters waltzed the major, Major Houlahan.  She was in dress uniform and bitchy.
	“Are you available?” she asked in a demanding tone.
	“Excuse me?” he needed clarity.
	“Are you on duty?”
	“Uh, no, Ma’m, not really.” he was tinkering with a radio set on his own time, fixing to go to dinner and then to some poker.
	“I need a driver.”
	Finch looked to her.  He had tried spying on her when she showered, but she was wise that many of the camp’s men tried that and she had guards ensure her security.  Finch’s Minding Abilities had taken a siesta, it was like they were not even there, the implant and whatever.  Which for the most part was okay with Finch, although he HAD gotten rather used to the special abilities, and then shut off cold turkey!
	The major needed a driver to take her to the airport in Kimpo, she was on her way to Tokyo for an unspecified reason (and she was bitchy about it, too.)  
	Being a bitchy woman was already two strikes against her, being a pushy major just added to it.  He “fetched” the bitch’s suitcases and loaded them into the jeep and off they went.
	The trip was not without peril.
	It would not have been had it not been for the incessant bitchiness of Major Bitch.  For some reason the road well traveled was “under construction so a detour was needed.  The Major insisted on a particular detour that she knew of that would be a shorter route and take less and get her Bitchiness to the airport on time.
	Finch had studied the various maps and noted that the indicted route was not a suggested one, not even the locals used it; it was a perilous journey of several miles and a motor pool mechanic’s nightmare.
	But Forrest Finch was merely a sergeant, a sergeant first class, but a Non-com against a Com(missioner) officer whereas the commissioned officer would always win out.
	Five miles into their twenty miles detour and SFC Finch pulled the regular army jeep over--much to the dismay of Major Bitch.
	“Why the hell are you pulling over!?” she demanded in a very unpleasant tone.
	“’cause, M’am, we don’t have any oil pressure!” he replied trying to be as civil as possible.  He got out and looked under the jeep and commented, “Well, now I know how big that rock was we ran over,” he said sarcastically, “the same size as the hole in the oil pan!”
	“Oh fine!” bitched the Queen of Bitchdom.
	She got out and angrily grabbed her suitcases.
	“M’am?” queried Finch.
	“Fuck off, I’m going on.” she said.
	Forrest smiled to himself, BOY did he wish he had his mental powers back.  Shortly after the Noshbaum incident and returning to the casern one last time, the power simply “vanished.”
	It was just as well, he could do without the headaches and earaches and the unreliability.  But he missed the perks the Ability had, though.
	He reached to help with a bag and angrily she shoved him away.
	“Piss off!” she bitched, “You didn’t want to help me anyways, asshole!”
	Finch was having enough.
	“Now, look, M’am, that’ll be enough!”
	“Oh, go to hell!” she yelled and slung a suitcase out of the jeep, “I don’t fucking need you!” the suitcase slammed into Finch’s chest knocking him back.  He didn’t need the abuse, verbally or otherwise.  No one back at the MASH liked her, no one--’save for the other major who had the hots for her--but he was married, to another Bitch back in the States who was wealthy.  He was a so-so competent doctor, but prone to making mistakes.
	Anyways--she had gotten his ire.  As she stalked-stomped her way passed him he grabbed her arm and threw her against the disabled jeep.
	“Who the fuck do you think you are!?” he grumbled.
	The Major went ballistic and repeated his statement, plus added a few expletives along with insubordination and threats of court-martial and so on and so on.  Then she kneed him in the groin.  
	Finch had had enough.  He body slammed the uppity uptight Bitch and they wrestled.  Finch, though, had weight, size, and more pissed offedness on his side and wrestled the Queen of Bitchdom to the ground…
	…whereupon she promptly flipped the fuck out and freaked out and managed to knee him in the tender groin again.  Whereupon SFC Finch body slammed her again, this time causing her to lose consciousness as her blond head was smacked against a rock half buried in the hot Korean sun beat dirt. 
	He sat straddling her, “Now yer cookies are burnt!” he said to himself.  This was the big time, assaulting an officer and no way to “fix” it.
	He licked his lips and slid down her body some, noting to himself, 
	“Well, you might as well…”  he sent his hands up her thighs, under her tight brown skirt.  Pantyhose, no panties.  The Major made no moves as he worked the nylons down, pushing her skirt up over her waist.  He strained to hear any noises--like any vehicles moving towards them.  He heard no sounds but insects buzzing in the nearby weeds.
	With her pantyhose down and off, he tied her hands behind her back then ripped off her light tan snug fitting uniform blouse.  His knife cut her bra and freed her bombastic double duty twin 38Cs.
	In the late afternoon shade of the day the Major was naked.  She drifted in and out of consciousness, murmured and was barely cognizant of the fact that she was being fucked.  Sergeant First Class F Finch fucked, fucked her hard, slow, hard again, and then slowly at the end of the traumatic experience.
	The Major awoke at the very end, as he pulled his prick out of her swamp box.  Her eyes fluttered and though she had a head injury, she was aware, very aware, that she was being raped.  She panicked and then got pissed off--causing SFC F Finch to smack her around some and bash her head onto the rock (again.)
	She lay utterly motionless thereafter.

	NOW he had done it.  The ultimate sin.  A simple rape would have gotten him a dishonorable discharge and 30 years in the federal pen.  The KILLING of an officer--that warranted a hanging, or worse!
	He had to think.  There was no easy way out of this one.