Message-ID: <5883eli$9711262123@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "ass.reposter" X-Good-Line-Length: yes Subject: RP: The Stepford Wifes (Best stories from my Archive) [2/2] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: gmezey@cms.khvm.hu Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <347A81B5.94B@hotmail.com> THE STEPFORD WIVES c. 1996 by Rhett Dreams Warning: This fictional story contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts and is intended for mature audiences. Any resemblance between characters in this work and real people is probably intentional, and occasionally a little mean-spirited. Authors Note: This is the second in a trilogy of stories and, like the first installment ("Southern Hospitality'), it pays to read the chapters in order. The full story is at www.cjnetworks.com/files/Authors/Jess/wwwa/rhett/rhett.html, along with prior works by the same author. Thanks: To the GrooveGirl, for her help in shaping this story, and for fixing some of my lousy grammar, spelling and twisted sentences. [continued] Why it came to her she couldn't say. Maybe the thought popped into her head as a result of flipping through her Rolodex, seeing the name of Gene Myers. Gene was a security consultant, having set up his business in northern Virginia after twenty years service in the FBI. He had left the Bureau, Jessica knew, because he had fallen in love with, and married, another agent, and such unions were against policy. She'd handled a case that was tried in Boston but had it's roots in the Washington beltway. Her client, a successful Washington lobbyist, was positive that his phones had been tapped, telling her that there was no other way for the prosecutors to know about his admittedly-shady activities. She'd found Gene Myers through a friend who knew his wife, FBI Special Agent Clarice Starling. On a trip to Washington she'd scheduling time with Myers, charging the cost of their two hour conversation to her wealthy client. In that time, the ex-FBI agent gave her a thorough education on the state-of-the-art equipment and techniques for electronic surveillance. It was seeing his name, and feeling violated by the entry of some stranger into her house, that got her wondering if their phones were tapped. Acting on her hunch, she unscrewed each of the phones and, finding nothing, was not surprised. The bugs planted directly into phones were the easiest to discern, and to find, and were no longer used by people who really knew their business. Outside, she followed the phone lines from her house to where they joined the box high up on the pole at the street. It was there she noticed the inch-think cylindrical object clamped around her phone lines just before they disappeared into the box. She'd held one of these devices in her hand during her meeting with Myers, and recalled him telling her that both incoming and outgoing signals could be picked up by the hi-tech device. Another device would be nearby, no more than a half-mile away, that would receive the signals and record them for later use. "I think I better give Gene Myers a call,' said Jessica, to herself, as she walked back into the house. - o - The handsome young man waited with the rest of the passengers for the luggage from United flight 803 to arrive at the lower level carousel. Several of the other passengers noticed the man, for he was quite striking: tall with thick blond hair, bright blue eyes, and with a confident set to his features that seemed misplaced on someone so young. His expression was of a man who knew who he was and where he was going, and it stopped just short of naked arrogance. He was, in his mind, Joseph Mengele, III, and had been ever since meeting his father. His identity growing up was different, but he now accepted his real name and heritage with enormous pride. His grandfather has advanced his field of science by working on the barely-human dregs of Europe's ghettos. His father, left alone to complete his noble work, had accomplished even more. His father. Every time he thought those words his heart filled with pride. Growing up with only his mother had been hard, not knowing who his father was or even if he was still alive. The whore who raised him would only hint that his father was out there, someplace, and he'd secretly hoped all those years that this man would eventually come for him. It had been so compelling, this hope that his father existed and would come back into his life. But she, the slut that was his mother, had never told him... even after he had tied her to the bed they'd shared ever since his fourteenth birthday. Face-down, her arms and legs stretched into an X, he'd whipped her until her back and ass were chris-crossed with red welts. He'd finally concluded that the crying, slobbering slut knew nothing, that she hadn't been trusted to know anything beyond the drivel she'd been telling him for years. He'd driven his cock into her ass that day, raping her mercilessly in punishment for her ignorance. After collecting his luggage, Joseph walked to the Hertz booth and queued with the travelers waiting for rentals. He knew there were the others, eleven of them, and that his father loved them as much as him. But he was determined to succeed at his task, here in Los Angeles, and with any further responsibilities his father would trust to him. The young man, grandson of Dachau's Angel of Death, smiled to himself, determined to make himself so invaluable that he'd be at his father's side for as long as the noble man lived. In San Francisco, a similar young man eased his rented Jeep Cherokee onto the Interstate and headed north and west, away from the airport and toward the huge mountain reservoir that fed the City and most of the peninsula communities. In Cleveland, Cincinnati, Dallas, Detroit, Miami, New York, Newark, Tampa,... the son's of Dr. Poulsen spread out like missionaries. Each had a set of plans for the metropolitan water supplies and other gear for reconnaissance. The stainless-steel cylinder also in their possession, once filled and deployed at just the right location, would release it's contents slowly over the next six weeks, bringing to the women of these cities the Righteousness of the Stepford Wives. - o - Jessica Graham finished loading the dishwasher, then poured the after-dinner drinks. Before joining Rhett and Lisa in the living room, she added a powdered sedative to one of the glasses, stirring it carefully until it was dissolved. She found them sitting next to each other on the long sofa, and although the lights were dim she could see her husband's hand stroking idly along their guest's thigh, his other hand along the top edge of the sofa, behind her neck. Throughout dinner with the gorgeous young girl, and afterwards, she sensed his awkwardness about this. Jessica knew that her husband was not skilled in seduction, at least not the kind that made it easy for some men to pick up partners for casual sex. As she approached them with the tray of drinks, she resolved to force the action. After handing Rhett his drink, and noticing the uncertainty in his eyes, she took the glass intended for Lisa and stepped around the coffee table. Leaning over, she brought her lips to the girl's, kissing her softly before handing her the drink. Stepping back to retrieve her glass, she raised it in a toast. "To a very interesting evening.' Lisa Quinn giggled and then sipped her drink. Rhett drank too, and she could see his face relax. "I'm so glad Rhett finally invited you over, Lisa. He's been talking about you ever since we got here, it seems, and I knew from the start that he had the hots for you. I can see why.' Lisa took another swallow and smiled at her hostess. "I was beginning to wonder,' she said, "I mean he's so good looking, but he didn't seem to really notice me.' "Oh, I noticed,' said Rhett, his hand back on her thigh. "He'd be dead not to,' said Jessica, adopting the girl's giggle for the occasion. "You know what he told me after first meeting you, babe... he said, "That girl will make you swear off men,' didn't you Rhett.' "Uh huh,' he said, sliding his hand under her skirt, past the edge of her stockings, over the garters... When she turned to look at Rhett he leaned in for a kiss. She returned the kiss and very quickly their tongues were exploring each other's mouths. Jessica pushed down her feeling of jealousy as their kiss continued, resolved to play her slutty part in the charade. She took a long swallow of her cognac, watching her husband's hand dive deeper between the brunette's thighs, feeling her own pussy become moist despite the risks they were taking. Jessica finished her drink and moved over to the sofa, taking the seat next to Lisa. When their kiss ended, Rhett sat back and reached for his drink. They wanted her to finish hers before they got too far. She did as they wanted, draining the last of her glass before turning toward Jessica. The women embraced, the kiss long and wet. Lisa took the initiative, turning toward the older woman, pressing her back to the arm of the sofa, covering Jessica's body with hers while their tongues danced. When Lisa broke the kiss, Jessica knew that she wouldn't have to act any more, and her arms circled the girl's body, pressing her against her own, feeling the girl's stiff nipples through the clothes that separated them. "What does he call you?' the question whispered directly into her ear. "When he fucks you, I mean. Jessica?' "No, Jessa,' she said, then giggled into the girl's ear. "Most of the time he calls me Jessa... sometimes he calls me bitch, slut... whore.' Watching Lisa and Jessa embrace, the girl's body draped over his wife's, caused Rhett's cock to grew uncomfortable large in his pants. Kicking off his shoes, he quickly stripped until he was nude from the waist down. Climbing back on the sofa, behind Lisa, he reached out and flipped her skirt onto her back, exposing the panties he'd felt earlier. His hands caressed her ass, then the moist mound of her sex, and he noticed that her panties had snaps at the crotch. "And are you?' Jessica heard in her ear. "Are you a slut... Rhett's whore?' Lisa didn't give her time to answer, her lips finding Jessa's and forcing her mouth open, their tongues battling inside. An expulsion of breath preceding the breaking of the exciting kiss, and the girl moaned into her ear. "He's coming inside me, Jessa, your husband... Oh, yes! Rhett's fucking me, you bitch, fucking me.' Jessica gasped to herself, and felt the younger woman's hand on the back of her head, pulling her up so she could see over the girl's shoulder, see her husband kneeling behind the girl... see his back and forth movements as he fucked Lisa Quinn. The girl's fingers got a grip of her hair and pulled her back down, rudely bumping her head into the arm of the sofa. Lisa's mouth covered hers, the kiss demanding, taking possession of her. Jessa could feel Lisa's body rocking into hers, reverberating with the power of Rhett's thrusts into her sex. She felt that she was getting fucked as well, not by Rhett but by this gorgeous girl, her breasts rubbing against hers, the thrusts of the girl's tongue in her mouth echoing the cadence of Rhett's cock.. Jessa was enjoying this immensely, but part of her wanted to cower this girl who had tried so hard to seduce her husband. She freed a hand and took a firm grip on the girl's hair, pulling her up and breaking the kiss. Her other hand reached awkwardly between them and found Lisa's breast, knowing from the moment she'd welcomed the girl into her home that the brazen slut had come bra-less. She squeezed the firm flesh between her fingers and watched as Lisa's lips parted and she cried out. Keeping the girl's head pulled back, and her vicious hold on her breast, she could hear now the slapping sound made each time Rhett's hips met the flesh of her ass, each time he fucked his cock into her. She could tell from the pace of his thrusts that Rhett would soon cum, and she said, "Fuck the bitch good, Rhett... cum in your office slut's whore pussy.' As Jessa watched Lisa's face, the younger woman's eyes shut, and steady cries came from her mouth. Jessa squeezed the breast in her hand in the tempo of Rhett's thrusts. When the girl came a few moments later, Jessa pulled her head down and kissed her through her climax. She could tell from the girl's reaction, half way through her orgasm, that Rhett was coming inside her. It was the plan the Jessa had herself devised, but all the same she felt embarrassed and ashamed to hear Rhett's words in front of Lisa Quinn. In front of that bitch. "You've been naughty, Jessa-slut, haven't you,' he'd said a few minutes after they'd extracted themselves from the sofa. "What, Rhett?' "You've been a naughty girl, Jessa. I know that tramp little mind of yours... you want to eat Lisa, don't you? Innocent, sweat Lisa, and you want to suck her pussy clean.' It didn't take much acting to blush. "Well, I'm not gonna let you... not yet anyway.' He motioned for the girl to follow, and led Jessa up the stairs, slapping her ass as he went. In the bedroom, while Lisa Quinn watched, he stripped off her clothes while he humiliated her further, called her every nasty name he could think of. Inside a couple of minutes, she was nude and handcuffed to the headboard. She watched as Rhett and Lisa finished undressing one another, kissing and touching as they did, and was forced to listen to his appreciative comments on the younger woman's admittedly incredible body. They moved into the bathroom, her master bathroom, and showered together. While she waited she felt the jealousy return, even as she knew Rhett was hers and always would be, that he was playing a role in the play of her creation. At the same time, she knew he was enjoying himself, getting this opportunity to live out a fantasy, fucking this drop-dead gorgeous girl. When they returned, Rhett lowered the lights and behaved like she wasn't even there, moving on the bed next to her with Lisa. She watched... hell, she couldn't not watch, as her husband made love to the beautiful girl. His hands on those perfect mounds, his mouth sucking the thick brown nipples; their kisses so long and passionate; their words of lust escalating as their adultery took it's course. His cock inside her now, hammering inside as her legs wrapped around his back, her hips rotating sensually, driving up to meet his thrusts. The sound of her cum. Then again, this time with the girl on top, her incredible body shown to best advantage as she rode Jessa's husband. Even chained as she was Jessa could see the union of their sex, her husband's rod slick and shiny as the girl rose up, then it was swallowed up in the wet pink flesh of her hairless cunt. She came again, her features even more beautiful in release, calling his name, her husbands name, as she slammed up and down on his cock... Then, as her orgasm wound down, she fell forward into Rhett's arms. After a few moments, Rhett lifted her head off his shoulder, shaking her slightly. Satisfied that she was out cold, he rolled the two of them over, and pulled his cock free. "She out?' "Yeah, I think so.' Whispers. Quiet whispers. Rhett came over and released Jessa. Rolling off the bed, she went to the dresser and retrieved the kit that Dr. DiBriggio had sent a week ago. Rhett turned up the lights as Jessa moved purposefully to the girl, rolling her onto her back. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed Jessica held one arm straight while Rhett tied the rubber tourniquet around the upper arm of the sleeping girl. Jessica nodded to him and rubbed the alcohol-coated cotton ball on the inside of the girl's elbow, directly over the faint blue line of a blood vessel close to the surface. Rhett closed the girl's fingers into a fist and flexed her wrist until the vein stood out clearly in the arm. "My turn to poke the bitch,' Jessa whispered as she inserted the needle. The blood began to fill the tube, and she glanced up at Rhett. His eyes were on hers, and she could see the same excitement in his face and eyes that she'd noticed when he'd snuck out to spy on the Waterson's. He clearly enjoyed the risk-taking of all this, and she had to smile. He saw the smile. "Not bad, eh?' he whispered, motioning with his head toward the sleeping girl's body. Jessa looked at the large but incredibly pert and firm breasts, the thick nipples, the tiny waist, the gracefully full hips... then back at the tube, almost full now. "You're a trooper, hubby,' she said, closing the valve on the needle housing. She pulled the full vial of blood from the housing and handed it carefully to Rhett. The second vial she plugged in place was full of an amber looking liquid, a narcotic that would counteract the sedative they'd given her earlier. It would also insure that she woke without the tell-tale headache and drowsiness. "Fifteen minutes, hon,' she said, removing the needle and pressing a cotton ball over the tiny puncture, folding the woman's arm at the elbow to hold it in place. After five minutes or so she climbed over the girl and took her place on the other side of the bed. Rhett cuffed her as before. Once he was satisfied that her arm wouldn't bleed, he used a warm washcloth to clean off the alcohol. After lowering the lights, he climbed back on the bed, spreading and lifting the unconscious girl's legs, bringing her slit to the level of his cock. "This is kinda weird,' he whispered to Jessa as he eased himself in the sleeping girl's sex. "The work's done, babe,' she said, watching her husband as he rolled onto his back, the impaled girl resting on his body. "Now it's time for the fun.' "You're sure you want me to...' he said, leaving the rest of his question un-stated. "Yes,' she said. "Now be quiet.' Lisa Quinn awoke and it took her a moment to remember where she was. The arms around her tightened perceptibly in response to her movement, and she could feel the hard cock filling her sex. "Rhett,' she said to herself, forcing her eyes open, seeing his neck, shoulder, and ear. The memory of their evening came back to her, and she smiled to herself. That must have been some cum, she smiled to herself. He was pretty good, this Rhett Graham, a great fuck... and the way he shackled his wife and made her watch, that was kinky. Turning her head until her lips were on his ear, she kissed him there and whispered, "Do you think she's suffered enough? Should we fuck the little bitch?' She felt Rhett's body vibrate as he laughed silently beneath her. Then his teeth bit playfully on her ear lobe before he said, "How 'bout you eat her pussy while I ream the slut's ass?' She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. He was serious, she saw at once, and she grinned at him when she felt his cock jerk in her cunt. She kissed him before bringing her lips to her ear. "She let's you do that, huh? Well, Rhett, honey, I'd love to participate in any way I can.' She felt his cock throb again in her sex when she added, "Here or at the office.' "It's only been recently,' whispered Rhett into Lisa's ear, following the script, "that she's allowed me to take her that way. I'm hooked, Lisa baby... and now that you mention it, I'll want you in my office first thing Tuesday morning, greased up, ready to get your ass reamed.' "Yes, Sir!' said the brunette. The Stepford Wives - Chapter Ten Sunday, September 3 It was not often that the plant was completely deserted, but this was Labor Day weekend, and the place was empty except for Rhett and Jessica Graham. They'd left their daughter with the Watersons and were here to use the speakerphone in Rhett's conference room. The extra impetus was, of course, that their home phones were tapped. Jessica dialed the number that Gene Myers had given her a few days before, after a brief phone call to office. He'd been able to talk for only a few minutes but had suggested she call him back at this time, so that his wife could participate in the conversation. Jessica knew of Clarice Starling Myers from a mutual friend at the Smithsonian Institute, and it was through her many months ago that she'd found Gene Myers for her all-important Rolodex. She recognized his deep southern accent as soon as he said hello. After a few words of greeting and introductions, more for Rhett's benefit than anybody else's, Jessica jumped in. "I really do appreciate you and your wife giving up some of your long weekend to talk to us, but I'm really quite worried.' "I could tell, Jessica, from our brief phone call, and I wish we could'a set this up earlier. Maybe I should start by sayin' I've briefed Clarice on what you told me Thursday, that you strongly suspect that someone has broken into your home, ostensibly to access your home computers. And later you discovered that your phones are tapped. Right?' "Yes,' she said, "we're pretty certain about both. The cylindrical....thing on the wire near the box looks identical to the device you showed me in your office last year. I can FAX you a Polaroid of it if you'd like.' "That would be great, Jessica,' said Clarice, "but let's assume for the moment that it checks out, and that your phones are tapped. The obvious question is, why? Were you working on some sensitive case back in Boston? Or is Rhett's job involved in something that might attract attention?' "I don't think that's it. We're worried that it's something else. I don't know how to put this so you don't think we're crazy, but the women here in Stepford---and I mean all the females---are uniformly... well, strange. They act exactly alike, all of them, like a characterization of someone's idea of a perfect woman. It's hard to explain without appearing paranoid, but all the women here dress like Princess Grace, keep their houses like Martha Stewart, and, well...' "Excuse my interruption,' added Rhett, "and my crude language, but they fuck like $1,000 whores.' "I won't ask how you know that, Rhett,' said Gene Myers with a touch of levity, "or how a Yankee boy like yourself gits a name like Rhett. What I will ask is this, what's the problem?' Both of the listeners could not miss the sound of a punch landing solidly on flesh, and an exclamation from Gene. "Please excuse my Neanderthal husband, Jessica,' she said, but her voice carried just the hint of amusement. "I've only had him for eighteen months, and he's not quite trained yet.' The conversation got serious then. Forty-five minutes later, the Grahams left the plant and headed home, feeling for once that they weren't alone in their efforts to grapple with this mystery. - o - Lisa Quinn brought the tray of drinks to the patio by the pool, and handed each man his glass. Scotch on the rocks for Dr. Poulsen and Jim Conners, vodka martini for Dr. Abbott, beers for Sheriff Grant, Mike O'Brien and Geoff Reynolds. A diet Coke for herself. "Thanks, Lisa,' said Dr. Poulsen. "Please, sit down.' "Mr. O'Brien, if you will...' "Certainly, Doctor.' O'Brien consulted his notes briefly before speaking. "Eleven of the twelve are set... they've scoped out the targets and are ready to proceed. The twelfth, Joseph number six,' O'Brien had learned never to use the mother's last names after a sharp rebuke from Poulsen a few days ago, "is in place in Miami, but had to delay his part of the project because the damn airline put his luggage on the wrong flight.' Mike ignored the derisive snort from Sheriff Grant. "He's all set now, however, and will reconnoiter the reservoir tonight.' Glancing up at Jim Conners, he continued, "Jim, they all found the plans you provided of the water systems invaluable. To sum it up, they're all in place, ready and waiting for the RCA.' Dr. Poulsen nodded his head. "Dole's aide found me a plant in Kansas City, MO, of all places. A big Republican supporter, no doubt. He tells me he'll have the RCA manufactured by the wee hours of Monday morning, using only one trusted foreman to help him with the equipment. The batch will be divided into twenty-five sealed containers, twelve of them air-shipped to our boys, the rest sent to the hospital for storage.' Smiles broke out on most of the faces around the table. There were still risks and problems to overcome, but everything was working like clockwork. "What about the Graham woman?' asked Poulsen, his look taking in Lisa Quinn and O'Brien. O'Brien allowed himself a small smile, having already heard the story of Lisa's night with the couple. He nodded to her. "If that woman isn't Righteous,' said Lisa, "she's pretty close.' The brunette quickly covered Rhett's invitation to dinner and the first part of the evening. She took her time when she got to the part in their master bedroom, knowing that her words would get all these men hot. Watching their eyes as she spoke, seeing the excitement build, she told of the husband shackling his nude wife to the headboard while they fucked, of her quiet acquiescence when he ordered his wife to kneel so that Lisa could slide underneath, of the wife's many orgasms as her husband fucked her up the ass. She concluded her narrative with the events of the next morning when, to her surprise and amusement, Rhett Graham had ordered his wife to remain nude while she prepared and served them breakfast. By the time she had finished telling them how the wife had crawled under the table and serviced Rhett then her, she knew there were six hard cocks under Dr. Poulsen's table. "The thing I'm still concerned about,' added O'Brien, "is that Mrs. Graham talked about Stepford to the psychologist, Dr. Carolyn DiBriggio, and probably exchanged eMails. Maybe with others too.' "No luck getting into her system?' This from Sheriff Grant, and the tone was condescending, as usual. Mike turned to the lawman and shook his head. "I went in again, last week, and daisy-chained a special component to the back of her system. It will store the first hundred or so keystrokes the next time she logs on. That'll give me the password she uses, unless she's paranoid and changes it.' "When do you go back in?' The sheriff asked, his tone only slightly more pleasant. "Go back in,' O'Brien thought to himself, "go back in your wife's fat ass? Is that what you mean, fuckhead?' Instead he said, in a reasonable tone that belied his contempt for the cuckold lawman, "As soon as Linda Waterson gives me a call, alerting me that they're out of the house. Tomorrow hopefully, Wednesday at the latest.' "Good work, Mike,' said Poulsen, nodding his head at his aide, then at the girl, "and Lisa, well done.' Poulsen scooted his chair back and rose. "The grill is ready, my good friends, and dinner will be on the table in a half-hour. Please help yourself to another drink if you wish, or perhaps you'd enjoy a swim or a Jacuzzi.' "That's for me,' announced Lisa Quinn, lifting herself out of her chair and heading toward the large kidney shaped pool. As she walked she pulled her cover-up over her head and tossed it aside, knowing that six sets of eyes were on her ass, the tiny bikini bottom hiding very little. She suspected that five of the six men would opt for a swim instead of another drink, and she hoped she'd get the chance to empty each of their balls before dinner. Dr. Poulsen, on the other hand, would tend to the grill, postponing his enjoyment of her until after his other guests had left. And she was right, on both counts. Jim Conners got to her first, meeting her in the shallow end of the pool, his rigid cock jutting out a few inches above the water level. While she sucked him into her throat she felt two more sets of hands on her body, lifting her into a horizontal position. Her bikini bottom was peeled off her hips and down her legs. She didn't know or care who it was that moved between her legs, his hands holding her thighs, his cock easing into her sex. She was supported by both men, but it also felt like she was floating. After a minute the two men developed a regular cadence, pulling her one way until the cock in her mouth lodged firmly in her throat, then the other, until her pussy was filled with cock. It was a slow, easy fuck, the water making it impossible for anything vigorous, but she came before the men dumped their loads into her body. Each was replaced with two more, Mike O'Brien at her mouth, and the cock at her sex, she recognized from it's considerable girth, belonged to Sheriff Grant. When this pair had finished using her she'd cum twice more. Her last act before dinner was to swallow one more appetizer, this one from Geoff Reynolds. She found her former boss sitting on the edge of the pool, sipping his scotch, his familiar cock standing straight up. It took her less than two minutes to suck him dry. Lisa Quinn had just enough time to dry off and dress before dinner. The men would be dressed casually for the end-of-summer meal. But she knew what was expected of her, especially at Dr. Poulsen's table, and came to the dinning room in an elegant black cocktail dress and three-inch heels. The diamond earrings were a full carrot each, and the string of diamonds around her slender neck and wrist would have cost her five year's salary from her job at the plant. As she took her seat she smiled to Poulsen at the head of the table, seeing in his eyes appreciation for her decision to wear his gifts. The conversation over dinner was about how the country would change over the coming months and years. She knew not to take part unless asked a direct question. She focused instead on eating and drinking with the elegance and care that would be expected of her, smiling at Dr. Poulsen every time he looked her way. After cleaning up the kitchen and dining room, she poured a generous portion of Drambuie into a glass and went outside to the pool. The others had excused themselves and left thirty minutes ago, leaving Lisa alone with Poulsen. She found her master relaxing in the Jacuzzi, and handed him the drink. Kneeling behind him, she went to work massaging his scalp, her fingers applying just the right amount of pressure. For thirty minutes she worked, on his head, neck and shoulders, digging into his muscles until her fingers were sore, while he sipped his drink and relaxed in the bubbling water. "Enough,' he said at last, rising and stepping out of the water, steam rising from his body. She dried him thoroughly with a large soft towel, then helped him into his robe. His uncircumcised cock hung down between his legs, its length and thickness impressive even in it's current relaxed state. "Pour me a nightcap, would you, dear,' he said, "and bring it to me downstairs.' At the mention of his basement "playroom' her heart began beating a little faster. Lisa poured his drink and took a large swallow, hoping the alcohol would relax her and give her courage. She was always thrilled that Dr. Poulsen desired her, and that the great man took pleasure from using her body. Such was her conditioning. She was also more than a little frightened, having experienced his sometimes violent lusts many times. She took his drink and descending down into the basement rooms. Her steps made quite a racket, high heels against the concrete floor, but she could hear the music escaping from the room in the corner. It was Beethoven's ninth symphony. Hearing the music and recalling the other times he'd chosen that piece, what he'd done to her, caused her heart to race. Entering the room and closing the door behind her, she saw that Poulsen had discarded his robe. He was standing naked in the middle of the room, his eyes half-closed, his tall muscular body swaying perceptibly to the music. When she approached him, he reached out for the drink, then held up his other hand, opening the fingers so she could see, and take from him, the tube of lubricating jelly. He was absorbed in his music, and she knew that he wouldn't want any words exchanged. But she already knew what he wanted, how he'd take her this night. Dropping to her knees she took his flaccid cock into her hands and rubbed the head over her lips. The organ began to grow in her hands, and then in her mouth after she sucked it gently inside. Soon it filled her mouth more fully than any cock she'd ever had, and she couldn't manage much more than half of it's length. Pulling her stretched lips off the mammoth shaft, she squeezed a generous dollop of jelly into her hand, and proceeded to lubricate his cock. When she was done the thick pole of muscle reflected the light as well as the diamonds around her neck. Reaching between her own legs, under the bottom of her black silk dress, she forced a finger into her ass, then another, driving them and the lubricant as deep as she could. After preparing herself as best she could, the brunette cleaned her hands and set a thick cushion on carpeted floor, next to the long wooden bin that contained his things. The things he'd use on her very shortly. Still looking as elegant as she had at dinner, the brunette lay down on the floor, adjusting herself so the thick cushion was under her ass. Her head was about a foot from the wall. She didn't have to wait long, a few minutes perhaps, before Poulsen joined her, kneeling between her legs, his greased cock jutting out ten inches from his loins. He pulled her dress up to her waist before lifting her legs up and back, across her body. Poulsen was the only man who'd ever taken her this way. Oh, she'd been taken anally for years, starting with her abusive father when she was fifteen. But only Poulsen did it like this, facing her, in a position that gave him easy access to her cunt, breasts and face. As she felt the head of his cock against her rosette, she willed herself to open, groaning in pain as he forced himself past her sphincter. Her teeth were clenched but she forced her hands behind her to brace on the wall and pushed back against him as he worked his massive cock inside. "Oh God!' The cry was involuntary, escaping her lips after the last thrust had buried his cock six inches into her stretched hole, leaving her feeling like she was being split in two. His hand lashed out and slapped her, hard. The taste of the blood in her mouth would be a constant reminder that he wanted her quiet and unmoving. Gritting her teeth she managed to endure the pain of his entry in silence. Her mind struggled to push away the pain and focus instead on the service she was providing to this greatest of all men. The music, she knew, simulated one part of his mind as thoroughly as using her this way stimulated another. Fully corked at last, she watched in silence as his hands came up to her neck, adjusting the diamond necklace just so, spreading her hair in a halo around her head. His touch was gentle as he untied the straps of her cocktail dress. The bodice was pulled down, exposing her breasts, his hands cupping the firm flesh. Then his hands left her breasts to forage in the box to his right. Lisa groaned to herself as she saw the things he retrieved, then again as he tightened the nipple clamps to her thick nubs. When that was done he shoved a vibrating egg into her sex, forcing it deep with his long fingers. Only then did he take up the wand. It was a about eighteen inches long, slender and black, and he held it between his fingers just as a conductor would. Up and down it went, side to side, all in perfect time to the music. Lisa's mind was filled with the sensations coming from her body, the incredible feeling of fullness from her ass, unpleasant still but not as bad as before. The egg helped, it's gentle vibrations deep in her sex could be felt in her ass and, indeed, throughout her body. Her nipples were on fire, clamped as they were, and every once in a while Poulsen brought the wand sharply down on one tip or the other, sending a jolt of pain through her body. After a lull in the music the final movement began, and so did Poulsen. The wand in his hand danced back and forth in time to the music but now he eased his cock out of her tight hole until only the uncircumcised head was inside. Lisa clenched her teeth and braced herself as he drove back inside, corking her fully in one long steady thrust. Poulsen's uncommonly bright blue eyes stared into her face, missing none of the girl's discomfort... the wet, luminous eyes, the flared nostrils, the full lips pressed tight each time he drove inside her. He established a conscious cadence that flowed with the orchestral music, driving into her ass as the music soared, bringing the wand down on one breast or another as the tymphony was struck... but before the final movement was half through he was so embroiled in the music that his mind took over. And when the last magnificent crescendo built to it's conclusion, his cock erupted deep in the vice-like sheath, adding that pleasure to his almost orgasmic enjoyment of the music. - o - Dr. Carolyn DiBriggio stared at the phone, wondering if she could make herself do it. He would have all the latest testing equipment and methodologies, and if there was anything in the blood sample she'd received that morning from Jessica Graham, Peter Goodwin would find it. But Peter Goodwin, Ph.D., was a sore point for her, or rather, she corrected herself, she was a sore point for him. They'd dated and then lived together while she was getting her doctorate at Stanford. He was at that time a full professor at the age of thirty-five, well on his way toward becoming a legend in the scientific community. His field was bioengineering, and he'd been the one to solve the RNA riddle of a deadly strain of virus found in equatorial Africa. Their families and friends assumed they'd marry, Peter and she. But he was offered, and she understood that he really had to accept, the position of Director of Research at the Center for Disease Control, in Atlanta. For the work he did, the CDC was the Mecca. The Pasteur Institute in Paris was close, and the FBI labs in Quantico were quite capable for what they did, but the CDC had the most respected people and labs in the world. This was the only place in the world where the Russians, Chinese and just about every other country sent blood and tissue samples for testing and matching with other viral strains. Peter had wanted to get married, and pressed her to postpone the completion of her work at Stanford to join him in Atlanta. They'd fought... said some stupid things. In the end, she'd walked out, refusing even talk to him over his last several weeks in Palo Alto. She was hurt that he didn't appreciate how much her work meant to her, angry that he would presume so quickly that she'd drop everything to accommodate his soaring career. He'd been a jerk, yes, but she also realized, a little bit late, that she'd been childish. The friends they shared told her that he was wounded by her refusal, more than a little bitter. His pride wouldn't allow him to even call her during the intervening years. Although she had dated several men since Peter, she'd never found a relationship that felt as right. And now she had to call him, and open up their wounds. Damn. The call from Jessica Graham had troubled her, when her Smith college friend had told her of her phones being tapped and of the break-in. She could hear the uncertainty and fear in her friend's voice, and had assured Jessica that she'd do what she could. That was what did it for Carolyn... she'd promised to do her best and her best was Peter Goodwin. Picking up the phone at least, she placed the call. "Goodwin here,' came the response after two rings. That was just like Peter, she remembered, his disdain for the titles and trappings of academia. "The guy who fixes my car,' he once said, "he's a doctor of carology---no less schooled, if he's good, in the art he practices, than you or I.' "Hello Peter,' she said. "This is Carolyn calling. Carolyn DiBriggio.' "Hmmm,' he said after a pause of a few seconds, "boy, that name's familiar. Give me a minute and I'm sure it will come to me.' His words were up-beat, but she knew him well enough to recognize the hurt in his voice, and the hope. She smiled into the receiver. "Tall, medium brown hair... brown eyes that used to look at you with something approaching hero worship...' "That can't be the Carolyn I remember,' he said. "She was a real ball-buster.. hmmm, but, I have to admit, a great friend.' His voice lost it's jocularity, and his last words were flat, completely from his heart, "And I've missed her... I've missed you... terribly.' "Me too' she said, her eyes filling with tears, "I've missed you too, Peter.' "Before we go any further, Carolyn... shit, how do I say this right---I've picked up the phone a hundred times, to call you, just to hear your voice...' She waited for a moment, then longer, and knew at last than he was unable to speak. "Peter, Jesus... I, um... I called you about a work-related issue, something that has been eating away at me. But now... now that I hear your voice...' "Tell you what, babe. Before I start bawling into the phone, why don't you tell me how I can help. That is, if you can push your hero-worship aside long enough to clue me in.' She laughed. "I'll try.' The Stepford Wives - Chapter Eleven Tuesday, September 5 9:45 a.m. O'Brien got back into the Graham house Tuesday morning, after a call from Linda alerted him that the housewife was out visiting the local elementary school with her daughter. It took him less than ten minutes. Disconnecting the gadget from the back of the Mac, he plugged it into the laptop he'd brought for this purpose and read the data. Turning on her Mac, he typed in the password, luvurhett, and breathed easier when the hard disk purred and the system finished booting. He didn't take the time to read the mail, just copied all the files from the last month onto a floppy disk. Then he turned the system off, and left to return to his office. - o - "Damn,' said Dr. Poulsen, under his breath, not for the first time since he started reading through the stack of eMails. Mike O'Brien had already read through them, twice. His own copies of the printout were in front of him, heavily highlighted with notes in the margins. The correspondence with the psychologist made it clear how close Jessica Graham, and her friend, were to guessing the truth about the women she referred to as The Stepford Wives. The last eMail was dated nine days ago, and the length of this elapsed time since the last contact gave him some comfort. This note was from the psychologist, and Jessica Graham had never replied. "She's been here, what, twenty-eight days?' "Twenty-nine,' said O'Brien. "Well, if we assume she consumed the high strength RCA you left, it's not unexpected for her to be showing symptoms of the change by now.' "Yes, Doctor. I worry less about Graham than I do about her friend in Maryland, DiBriggio. Graham's here. We can watch her, and her husband. Who knows what DiBriggio's up to, and whether she'll put two and two together after the election results.' Poulsen had to concede his point. That was the risk of their approach. People would wonder about Dole's sudden resurgence in the polls. Exit polling would show the high percentage of women who voted for the republican. Not everywhere, just in high population urban areas, and not in all cities. The talking heads at the networks would point out how strange it was that women in Miami, New York, Dallas, LA and Detroit would vote against the usual pattern of their gender, while women in Houston, Boston, Chicago and Phoenix didn't. The focus of Dole's advertising in the areas they'd chosen for RCA might explain a little of it. In future elections the voting tendencies of women would become wide-spread, but Poulsen needed to do all he could to insure that the first signs of The Change remained an unexplained mystery. Carolyn DiBriggio might be a serious problem after all. "Get me on the next plane to Baltimore,' said Poulsen at last, "using one of my other identities. In my absence, I want you and Lisa to welcome home my boys, just like we planned.' "Yes, Doctor.' Back in his office, O'Brien placed the call to Samantha Weeks, the principal of Stepford's high school. Mike had first met Weeks during the previous Spring, under orders from Dr. Poulsen to find suitable wives for his sons. He had originally thought it a strange directive, and wondered what the doctor's sons would think of their father choosing them mates. But then he reminded himself of the what he knew about the women who had borne Poulsen's sons, and concluded that his sons would likely share their father's view of women as nothing more than living incubators. The plan for introducing RCA in time for the upcoming election had been finalized in the Spring, after the Republican primaries had resolved who would be Clinton's adversary. Part of this plan was the use of his many sons. The doctor had given his aide a list of attributes for the girls who would mate with his sons and bear his grandchildren, and tasked him with the job of "recruiting' them. Weeks was a rarity in Stepford, a female holding a position of responsibility and leadership, and because of this O'Brien had gone to that first meeting with a strong sense of curiosity about the woman. His cover story, that the V.A. needed volunteers to help with the men, got him that first meeting. She had not been very helpful. It didn't take long for Mike to realize that his charm was wasted on the forty-ish spinster. She was all business, the tone of her questions and comments bordering on curt. Her appearance also baffled the psychologist, who was used to the feminine elegance of the Stepford women. The six-foot woman wore her dark brown hair cut short, almost like a helmet, and her charcoal gray pants suit adding to her mannish look. She might not have stood out in Greenwich Village, but here in Stepford, Kansas, she was uniquely different from the others of her gender. He needed access to the girl's grades, for starters, since Poulsen wanted the children of these unions to be well above average in intelligence. A private interview was also required, so that Mike could hypnotize the girls and learn more about their family history. Blood tests would follow. Samantha Weeks had denied him access to the records, claiming they were confidential and that it would be her responsibility to screen the girls to find the right candidates for helping at the V.A.. O'Brien had little choice but stick with his cover story and agree to her conditions. But he'd left that meeting determined to learn more about the principal. The next night he'd broken into the school to hide a voice-activated recording device in her office. The next day, while she was at the school, he'd picked the lock at her house and had set up similar devices in her bedroom and living room. What he learned from the recordings gave him everything he needed to enlist the principal's cooperation. First in her office after hours, then over the weekend at her home, Mike had listened to two discipline sessions with mildly truant high school girls. It was clear to Mike that this had been going on for some time, as the principal needed very few words to convince the girls to bare their bottoms for a lengthy spanking session. It wasn't entirely clear from his first listen to the audio tape what followed the spanking. A second play of the tape, listening carefully to the sounds and occasional remarks, made it clear to O'Brien that the mannish principal was fucking the girl's with something. He finally decided, after listening to the tapes several times, that the principal was either a man posing as a female or some sort of trans-gender dyke who had strapped on an artificial penis. The sounds of flesh slapping into flesh was too clear, and too regular, for the sex to be anything else. It was also clear that both the principal and her [his?] girls enjoyed the sex very much. Listening to the cries of passion and release had caused Mike's cock to become rock hard. He scheduled a follow-up meeting as soon as he could, and had played his tape recording as soon as he was alone with the principal. "You can turn if off now,' she had said after it had run for a minute. The room was silent for a few long moments as the woman's intelligent gray eyes looked at him across the desk that separated them. Finally, she said, "Okay, Mr. O'Brien, please be so kind as to tell me what game you're playing. Blackmail? You probably make as much as I do at the hospital, so I think you're going to be a little disappointed---' "I don't think it will come to anything like that, Ms. Weeks,' interrupted Mike, giving her his most charming smile. "But I do believe we can be very helpful to one another. Very, very helpful.' "In what way?' "I'll get to that in time, Ms. Weeks. But I'm very curious about a couple things, and let's start there. How many girl's do you, um, how should I put this... discipline in this manner.' "Two. That tape you made---I'm not going to ask how you wired my home for your voyeuristic purposes---' "And your office,' he interrupted, his voice pleasant. "Under the desk, right about there,' he paused to tap the surface of her desk, "is a voice-activated recorder. I have a very interesting recording of your session with, what was her name, Claire?' "Yes, Claire has been quite a problem for us. The other girl's name is Denise.' "I see,' Mike said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. He knew he had the woman cold, but he was greatly impressed with her stoic acceptance of her situation. "You mentioned my "voyeuristic purposes' a minute ago... hmmm, I think that will be our first order of business. You can think of it as an experiment, a test of our new and mutually beneficial relationship.' The next night he was hiding in Samantha Week's bedroom closet, the sliding door ajar some six inches, giving him a perfect view of the principal and the teenage girl. The woman was dressed in black leather pants, so tight that Mike could see a bulge at her crotch, extending several inches down one leg. A leather bra, at least one size too small, caused her smallish breasts to seem much larger, and to spill over the top. Denise was a rather plain-looking girl who had been caught several times cutting classes to smoke pot in the orchard next to the school. Mike learned about this beforehand, and even more while the principal spanked the bare-assed girl. In between the first dozen slaps and the second, the sobbing girl had admitted that she'd blown the school janitor to get the drugs. Later, after the spanking had turned the girl's cheeks bright red, she was forced to strip off the rest of her clothes and lie on the bed, arms and legs spread wide. As Mike watched, Samantha Weeks un-laced the leather pants and peeled them down her long muscular legs. Springing up from her loins was an eight-inch phallus, realistic down to the thick veins standing out from the rubber shaft. Under the pants was a series of leather straps winded around her hips, over her ass, holding the phallus in place. Mike's own cock stiffened uncomfortably in his pants as he watched the woman climb onto the bed and mount the girl. She/he fucked like a man, Mike noticed, her ass muscles tightening every time she rocked back only to spear the girl again. Both of the combatants came several times before the bout was concluded. "Did that turn you on, Mr. O'Brien?' asked Weeks after the girl had dressed and left, her tone mildly defiant. She was standing with her hands on her hips as he let himself out of the closet, still dressed in only the black leather bra and the chris-crossed straps holding the phallus in place. "Very much, Ms. Weeks,' he said, openly rubbing the bulge at his crotch. "And I don't think I'm gonna get any relief from you, am I?' "You'd get more out of fuckin a blow-up doll,' she said. "If you haven't guessed already, from that little exercise with my teen-aged slut, I'm a man trapped in a woman's body.' Mike nodded, remembering his classes in abnormal psychology at the State College. He took his time walking around the woman, noting the hard sculpted muscles on her otherwise slender body. That she worked out regularly was obvious from the condition of her body and the nautilus equipment crammed into the spare bedroom. Kneeling on his haunches before her, Mike noted that the rubber shaft was still glistening with the girl's juices. "That's a remarkable... cock, Ms. Weeks.' Mike watched as she released a level at the base and began unscrewing the slippery phallus. With it removed, Mike could see that the harness looked very much like a leather jock strap. A triangular patch extended from the belt circling her waist, down over her crotch and between her legs, where two straps ran from the crack of her rock-hard ass cheeks to join the belt at her waist. From the center of the leather triangle was a metal bolt standing out three-quarters of an inch. Mike got to his feet as Weeks turned and stepped toward a long dresser, the sleek muscles of her thighs reminding him of a jungle cat. When he joined her she was finishing wiping down the phallus and placing it into the only empty compartment of a shallow box. It now contained six rubber cocks, ranging from a very thin, four-inch version to a monster horse-like cock than looked to be a foot in length and as thick around as the woman's wrist. Each had a threaded hole in the base that would allow them to be screwed into place on the harness. The two other compartments contained a set of artificial balls, and a jar of some sort of paste. Mike watched as the woman undid the belt at her waist and squatted just a bit before pulling the harness free. It was then that he noticed the two probes under the triangular patch. Both were about three inches long, one had been inserted in her cunt, the other in her ass. "That'll keep it in place,' he said, admiringly, as the now mostly naked woman stepped into the bathroom. He followed her, watching as she cleaned the harness and the anchoring probes. Over the final five weeks of school, Mike O'Brien and Samantha Weeks spent many hours going through the records of all 465 girls at Stepford High. Before the summer break, Mike had hypnotized sixteen girls, all academic stars, ranging in age from fifteen to eighteen. Posing as a new counselor, it was child's-play for Mike to use the principal's office to bring the girl's under, and plant his instructions in their suggestible minds. He and Sam, as he began to refer to the principal, spent even more time at her house, developing a strong friendship as they introduced Stepford's "Naughty Girls' to the practice of sex. Sam was the one who took their cherries, choosing a modestly-sized phallus for the occasion. Mike got his share of and with the jail-bait recruits, however, and was the one who coached the girls through the practice of sucking his cock and drinking his cum. O'Brien was somewhat envious of his new buddy's powers, for Sam could fuck for a solid hour or more. He/she would cum many times as a result of the constant pressure from the probes in her cunt and ass, but would never tire or, as Mike did, lose his erection. One Saturday afternoon in July, he and Sam were watching a baseball game on her oversized TV. Earlier they had each taken turns fucking a sixteen year-old girl who looked even younger because she was not even five feet tall and wore her auburn hair in pigtails. With Mike's suggestions planted in her brain, she took great pleasure in being naughty. The still-naked teen fetched them beers and snacks as the two guys argued about who was the best left fielder of all time, Stan Musial or Ted Williams. The banter continued even after Mike had grabbed the girl and positioned himself between her legs, easing his cock into her very tight cunt for his second bout of the afternoon. To this day, Mike was surprised that he let it happen. He was fucking the girl with slow, easy strokes, kissing her playfully, their tongues dancing about, when he felt hands on his waist. He broke the kiss when the hands parted the cheeks of his ass, lifting and turning his head to see Sam kneeling behind him, wearing a four inch phallus. "Sam!' he said, then tried to push himself off the girl as he felt the pressure against his anus. But the girl's arms were around him, and Sam lowered herself on his back as she eased the lubricated rubber cock inside him. Mike felt a combination of shame, anger and excitement as Sam's cock filled his ass. "I've always wanted to do this,' he heard in his ear. "Fuck you, I mean. As a man. A man fucking a man fucking a slut. C'mon, Mike, fuck the little tramp!' Mike let it happen that day, telling himself that it wasn't a sign of homosexuality... she was a women, sort of. Throughout the rest of the summer, it became more and more common for Sam to fuck him. She gradually increased the size of the cocks she wore for these occasions, and began spanking him as well. "Take my cock up your hole, my little ass-boy!' she'd say, sawing in and out while she spanked him. Mike found himself enjoying the humiliation as much as the sex, especially when one of the nubile high school girl's was sucking his cock while he took Sam's pounding. She occasionally attached the artificial balls after filling the sacks with a mixture of paste and hot water. He loved the feeling when she squeezed her balls and hosed his bowels with the cum-like enema. O'Brien pushed these thoughts out of his mind as the phone rang. He hadn't seen Samantha Weeks for almost a month. The principal had taken the first three weeks of August as vacation, and had gone to New York. Both of them had been busy since she returned, he with the Poulsen's RCA plans, and she with the start of the school year. "Samatha Weeks here.' Mike smiled into the phone. "Stan Musial couldn't carry Ted Williams's jock strap, Sam, a fact you'd readily admit if you were a real man.' "Mike!' she exclaimed. "God I've missed you.' "Oh, really?' he teased. "Didn't you get your share of pussy in New York?' He/she laughed. "I did okay. In fact, I got one bitch to take the foot-long up her cunt... But you've spoiled me rotten with this steady diet of Stepford jail-bait.' "Yeah, it is hard to beat the naughty young ones. That's why I'm calling, actually. I'll need the girls for the next two nights. Seven tomorrow evening, twelve on Thursday.' "Oh, shit,' she said. "I knew this was coming, Mike, but I'm gonna miss those sluts.' "That still leaves us with four, buddy, and there are more where they came from.' "Hmmm. And I've still got my ass-boy, right? For when we wear out the cunts.' "If you behave, you fuckin' he-bitch.' - o - Joseph Mengele (number seven) got off the greyhound just as the sun was setting Wednesday night. He'd spent most of the day traveling, San Francisco to Denver on Continental, a turbo prop from there to Wichita, then this bus ride to Stepford. He saw the Mercedes's light flicker off and on and headed toward the huge sedan parked at the curb. Expecting his father, he was a little surprised, but not the least bit disappointed, when the driver door opened and Lisa Quinn got out. His heart beat a little faster as the gorgeous brunette stepped to the curb to meet him. "Congratulations on a successful trip, sir,' she said, reaching for one of his bags, stepping into him, her lips finding his, the unexpected greeting brief but exciting, promising more. He followed her to the back of the car and watched her while she opened the trunk and put his bags inside. He'd met her only that one time, after his father and Jim Collins had finished the briefing on their mission. She'd spoken to him and his brothers about the joy of being a Righteous Woman. His and eleven other pairs of eyes had stared at the captivating girl, taking in the sexy innocence of Lisa's face, the fullness of the breasts and hips suggested by the dress hugging her incredible body. With a shy smile, the girl had hinted at a reward for their good work. With his luggage stowed, she held out the keys and said, "We have one more stop to make, Sir, to pick up your brother. Would you care to drive?' "Sure,' he said, reaching for the keys, but also taking her hand in his. She came to him easily, pressing her body up against him, her luminous eyes locked with his. Her full lips parted as he lowered his mouth to hers, and the kiss went on for a full minute, their tongues intertwined, his hand sliding down over her ass, cupping the firm flesh beneath her silk dress. Joseph could tell that the woman was naked underneath her stylish dress, his fingers feeling only flesh beneath the material covering her ass, and the firm globes pressed into his chest were unfettered by a bra. After breaking the kiss Lisa embraced him, her mouth next to his ear, her hand sliding between their bodies to caress the bulge of his cock. "If we leave now, and you drive, we'll have plenty of time for me to suck you off before we get to the airport. Would that please you, sir?' Two minutes later Joseph Seven was easing the sedan into traffic to head to the small airport on the edge of town. Lisa Quinn's hands were extracting his cock from his pants. "Oh, my,' she said. This would be the sixth Joseph she'd had today, and this one was the closest to his father in the size of his cock. As she lowered her head into his lap, parting her lips wide to take his thick shaft inside, she wondered which of O'Brien's harem of high-school girls would have her cunt ravaged by this monster. Seven of Mike's girls would arrive later tonight at Poulsen's farmhouse for recreational use by the sons who had returned from their missions. The other five girls would have to wait one more day before the other Josephs returned. Joseph Seven exploded in her talented mouth just as they approached the airport. On the way home, Lisa and Joseph One sat in the back seat while the now-satisfied brother drove. It wasn't long before Lisa Quinn was straddling the eldest son, lowering her bare pussy onto his shaft. The Stepford Wives - Chapter Twelve Wednesday, September 5 10:45 p.m. Mike O'Brien looked on with conflicting emotions. It wasn't supposed to be this way, he knew. Poulsen wanted his sons paired to one of these young girls, and for the union to ventually result in a grandson. He would have expected his sons to enjoy the girls, but to take their responsibilities seriously. At least, that was Mike's beliefs about Poulsen's intent. But with the father gone, and Mike holding little sway over the actions of the seven sons, even if he'd wanted to try, the evening had degenerated into an orgy. It was obvious to Mike that the young men had established a strong bond, similar to fraternity brothers but deeper, born from a common experience, albeit one that was shared separately. He wondered how many of these son's of Dr. Poulsen had experienced sex with someone other than their mothers. They were all quite good looking, but he wondered if their experience with their mothers, willing sluts every one, would have prepared them for the delicate mating dance with non-righteous girls. Joseph One had begun the parade ninety minutes earlier, selecting a slender blond girl barely seventeen years old. While his brothers cheered he stripped the girl's clothes off and mounted her, driving his good-sized cock into her sex with one brutal lunge. The girl's cries brought more cheers from the onlookers. Each was drinking a beer, holding the girl they'd chosen in their laps or curled up at their feet, watching their brother hammer his cock into the writhing girl. While they watched and cheered, their hands were thrust rudely under their girl's dress, or groping at the girl's breasts or ass through her clothes. When Joseph One finished and rose from the body of his dazed partner, his brothers applauded. The next eldest threw his girl over the back of a chair and took her standing up. One by one the girls were raped, not unwillingly given their programming, but the cavalier brutality of their treatment could not be missed. When all seven had finished, several of the elder sons were ready for seconds. The girls were passed around without a second thought, two and sometimes three of the young girls getting fucked at the same time. Ninety minutes after they'd started the Josephs had gone through the girls a second time, and had finished the case of beer Mike had bought for the occasion. He expected the celebration to wind down after this point, with the beer exhausted and the Joseph's fucked-out. But he was wrong. Lisa Quinn had also watched the proceedings, but without the concern that Mike felt. Knowing the Doctor's sexual preferences and appetite much better than Mike, she believed (correctly) that the boy's father would have been proud of their antics. She could see that the camaraderie between the seven Joseph's was even stronger than before, and she knew that this would please her master. "Girl's,' she said, clapping her hands together to silence the many conversations in the large room. "I'm sorry, I should address you now as women, Righteous Women. You have done a tremendous job here tonight, satisfying these men as is your noble duty, and I'm proud of you. Extremely proud.' The seven teens needed only this reminder to feel much better about the evening. Smiles appeared on all their faces, and they drew closer to the Joseph's sprawled around the room. "But your service is not quite complete. There will be a Righteous ceremony out by the pool in twenty minutes. I want each of you to shower, or bathe, then join the men and me outside.' Lisa directed the girl's like a traffic cop, sending them to various bathrooms in the large house, slapping their bare asses playfully. When the girls were gone, she asked the Josephs to join her outside for a swim. The seven rushed out the door, hollering and slapping each other on the backs, and dived into the pool. Somewhat confused by what Lisa had planned, Mike followed Lisa the sliding glass doors and took her arm. "What's up, Lisa?' "Dr. Poulsen wanted the girls to learn how to service all of his boys' needs,' she said, unbuttoning the top of her dress, motioning with her head toward a box on the table. Mike walked over and opened the box, finding a dozen tubes of K-Y jelly. "Oh,' he said. When he turned back toward Lisa, she was stepping out of her dress, nude now except for the heels she wore. Seeing her lush body, Mike's cock swelled at once and the pressure in his pants reminded him that he was the only one still clothed. It wasn't long before the guys in the pool noticed Lisa, and they cheered and yelled, urging the brunette to join them in the water. Lisa whispered into Mike's ear, telling him of her plan, before turning toward the pool. Lisa's ass swayed as she walked to the edge of the pool and stood with her hands on her hips, legs parted slightly. Mike, from behind her, could see the fig of her sex from between her legs and knew that the guys in the pool had a perfect view of her hairless pussy, as well as her melon-sized breasts. "Gentlemen,' she said, holding up one hand for quiet. When the noise abated, she continued. "As much as I'd like to join you in the pool, and offer myself to the sons of my master, your great father has directed me otherwise. In a few minutes, the girl's that you have turned into Righteous women will join us once again. You have one more duty to perform, to help them progress along their journey to Righteousness.' Mike watched as Lisa kicked off her heels and stepped off the edge and into the water. All the Josephs swam over to her, surrounding her, listening as she told them what was expected. He noticed that Lisa's hands touched them as she talked and that the seven guys responded in kind. It wasn't long before all seven sported raging hard-ons. The girls began arriving a few minutes later, and Mike's cock hardened even more as he watched the naked, nubile young girls mill about, each one innocent before their experience with Sam and he. Lisa climbed out of the pool and approached the girl's, and seven pairs of eyes secretly examined the beautiful woman's assets: the large breasts standing pertly from her chest, nipples thick and fully erect, the small waist and womanly hips, the plump lips of her sex. "I am a Righteous Woman,' Lisa announced after she'd directed the girl's into a small semicircle around her. Standing with her feet at shoulder length apart, she continued. "My body,' she said, caressing her breasts before sliding her hands down slowly down to the valley between her legs, "is meant to give pleasure to my man. My sex exists to be filled with his cock, if that is my master's wish, his pleasure.' As she talked, she spread the lips of her sex. "You did very well in there, giving your men the pleasure of using your sex. But that is not all you must learn, for your men will sometimes want to take their pleasure in a different way.' Mike caught her looking his way, mouthing the word, "undress.' He was happy to comply, his cock quite uncomfortable in his pants. He'd lowered them forty minutes earlier, during the orgy inside, and Lisa had knelt before him and sucked him off. But now, as he stripped off his clothes, he was once again hard and ready, excited about what Lisa had in store. At Lisa's command, the Josephs climbed out of the pool and took their place behind the girl they had chosen. Standing a dozen feet away with Mike, Lisa bade the girls to watch. Mike played his part, forcing Lisa to her knees before him, sliding his cock into her mouth. "That's good little cock-sucking slut,' he said, for the girl's benefit, "suck it baby, suck my cock.' He let it go on for a minute or so, commenting all along on Lisa's technique. Then he pulled her off of his cock and helped her up. Lisa went toward the couples, directing each girl to kneel before her man and take his cock into her mouth. Some of the guys shoved their cocks into the mouth before them with too much relish, causing their girl to gag and pull off. Lisa autioned the boys to bring the girls along slowly. Once all seven sons were good and hard, Lisa clapped her hands together for attention, once again kneeling before Mike. She explained what she was doing as she coated his erect cock with lubricating jelly, and as she prepared her nether hole. Mike knelt behind the sexy brunette, his hands on her hips, watching the seven girls prepare their men and themselves, waiting for Lisa's signal. When it came he spread her firm cheeks apart and positioned his cock at her rosette. Having only experienced anal sex with the eternally virginal Barbara Grant, he was a little surprised when Lisa pushed back against him as he entered her, and how easily his cock popped inside and cleaved into her warm, spongy ass. He was also quite surprised that Lisa was able to speak in a conversational tone through out his entry, explaining to the girls that they would feel some discomfort at first, and cautioning the seven sons to be very gentle this first time. The girls were all kneeling with the boys behind them, watching with big eyes as Mike's cock eased inside until Lisa was fully corked. All but one of Dr. Poulsen's sons had experienced anal sex before, and remembered the difficulty their mother's had the first time. Amid the groans and cries of the girls, each attempted to follow Mike and Lisa's example. It took steady encouragement from Lisa before the girl's tried pushing back against the cock. Even so, it was several minutes before all of the girl's were corked. Mike reached around Lisa's shapely hips until his fingers found her sex, and urged the boys to do the same. Mike kept his cock stationary until after Lisa had cried out in orgasm, her discharge coating his fingers. Only then did he pull his cock back and begin fucking the girl. The first Joseph came after five minutes, holding back as long as he could in the vice-like sheath of his girl's ass, sent over the edge when her fingers in her sex brought the girl to a second orgasm. Mike was the last to cum, pleased with himself that he was able to control himself so well, enjoying the fact that fourteen pairs of eyes were watching as, toward the end, he hammered his erupting cock into the tight ass of the mewing Lisa Quinn. Had she known what Mike was thinking as his cock throbbed and spurted into her bowels, she would have been surprised. For the first time in Lisa's young life, a man was fucking her and thinking of another girl during his release. As Mike's cock erupted in Lisa's ass, he was imaging that it was Sister Mary taking his cock up her ass and wondering if he could somehow manage to bring his good buddy Sam into the mix. - o - If you didn't look too closely, the man looked every bit the part he played. The Bell Atlantic shirt was genuine, and the wide leather belt supporting all of the tools of his trade gave him the impression of being a phone company repairman. But if you looked closer at the man himself, and noticed the unmistakable intelligence burning behind his bright blue eyes, it would have seemed absurd that he'd hold this lowly job. But it was early and the first week of classes at Swarthmore, and the brick walkways cutting through the tree-lines campus were almost completely empty of activity. No one was around to notice the repairman enter the faculty office building and climb the wide stairs to the second floor. The lock on the office of Dr. Carolyn DiBriggio was old and it took just a credit card to pop it free. The PC was also not secure, and within minutes the man was sorting through the professor's eMail, deleting all that was to or from Jessica Graham. Dr. Poulsen had visited DiBriggio's other office the night before, finding nothing but patient records and professional correspondence stored on that system. He had checked her appointment calendar and noted that Thursday morning was filled with patient appointments, and that the professor/practitioner had one class at three in the afternoon, and that was it. He was safe to be at the University, at least until other professors and staff started to arrive. But by that time he'd be finished here and gone, to the woman's apartment for the final part of his job. - o - Carolyn DiBriggio's body was found the next day, by the Chair of the Psychology department. He was concerned when his always-reliable colleague had missed her morning lecture, then even more so when he'd received the afternoon call from Carolyn's part-time receptionist, telling him that she'd missed the first of several patient appointments at the office. Getting only her answering machine when he called, he decided to drive to her apartment. There was no answer when he rang the bell, but he discovered the door unlocked when he tried the knob. As soon as he stepped inside, he knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. The furniture in her small living room was scattered about, and his nostrils were filled with a fecund odor. He paused for a long moment, trying to remember the cop shows he'd seen, and what he was supposed to do. Finally he decided to call for help, and dialed 911 on her phone. After giving the police operator his name and the address of the apartment, he set the phone down and crept forward, his heart in his throat. He found her body sprawled on the floor of her bedroom, and the condition of his friend and colleague caused him to gag, bile coming up his throat. He rushed to the bathroom just in time to empty his stomach, then continued to retch until he was almost unconscious. The police arrived a few minutes later. The beat officers' experience with the darker side of human nature allowed them to view the scene with more detachment, but not completely without disgust and horror. The nude body of Carolyn DiBriggio was a mass of cuts and deep purple bruises, bite marks and scratches, and her head was bent grotesquely to one side, her neck clearly broken. Contributing to the smell her colleague had noticed when he first entered the apartment was the blood and feces, the latter a result of voiding herself as her last act on this earth. The detectives would arrive within ten minutes, discovering the signs of robbery in addition to the rape and murder. The victim's purse was missing its wallet, and her jewelry case was empty. Drawers in the dinning room hutch were left open, and they could find no sign of silverware or other valuables. - o - The stewardess placed the napkin and glass of orange juice down on the table next to the passenger in 5C, noting his mostly lidded eyes and the small crooked smile on his lips. The first class cabin on this flight from Baltimore to Denver was mostly empty, but she would have noticed the distinguished man even if it had been crowded. The thick white hair, strongly built body and piercing blue eyes had immediately attracted the attention of the woman when he had first boarded the plane. She couldn't have missed his open appraisal of her body while she completed her pre-flight duties, and it was not the furtive glance that the shapely blond had come to expect from business travelers. She knew men were drawn to her blond hair and long shapely legs, stealing looks when they believed she wasn't looking. They were bored, she knew, and they probably played the same game that she did to cut the tedium of these long empty flights, imagining what an attractive man looked like with his clothes off. How he'd fuck. Unlike the usual male passenger, the distinguished and incredibly sexy man in 5C did not hide his interest. His extraordinary eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts and hips and the slender legs, then came up to her face, a barely perceptible nod of his head indicating his appreciation. She had blushed at the boldness of his inspection, at the sense that he knew her thoughts, knew that she was very much attracted to him. When she turned away to deal with the only other first class passengers, busying herself with taking the drink orders of the two businessmen in 1A and 1B, she felt a throbbing in her sex. Later, a half-hour after takeoff, she'd brought him this glass of orange juice, not because he'd ordered it, but just because she was drawn to the handsome man. After setting the drink down, her eyes took in the cruel smile on his face, and the promising bulge in his perfectly pressed slacks. Had she known what was playing in his mind, his brutal rape of Carolyn DiBriggio the night before, the stewardess would have been repulsed. Instead, she was very much attracted to the man. When his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, she started but her surprised gasp died in her throat. His eyes were open now, fixed on hers, and she believed at once that he could read her mind, that he knew of her sexual attraction. As his hand pulled her wrist toward him, she looked quickly toward the front of the cabin, then back to insure that the curtains leading to the main cabin were closed. She shook her head in silent protest but he ignored her, smiling as he forced her hand toward his lap. "Oh my God!' she said to herself as her hand came in contact with the huge hard shape under his slacks. Her face flushed with color as she felt the size of him, shamed that she would allow him to do this, and more because she could see in his face that he knew of her desires. "You want it, cunt?' His deep, low voice would not carry very far beyond her ears, but that knowledge didn't stop her from taking another nervous glance fore and aft. His low chuckle caused her to blush even more, but she didn't attempt to remove her hand from his cock, not even when he switched so his right hand held her in place. His left hand went to the inside of her knee, pressing her there, making her feel weak, defenseless. The hand slid slowly up her stockinged thigh, feeling the moistness at the vee of her crotch, patting her ass in a gesture of ownership. Then he released her just as suddenly as he had taken possession of her moments before. His hand let go of her wrist and the other came out from beneath her skirt, but it was a full minute before she dared let go of his cock. His eyes remained locked with hers until finally he nodded, freeing her of his eerie hold on her. The stewardess moved off to tend to the preparation of the meal, feeling detached as she went through the motions, knowing that his eyes were on her as she served the two businessmen in the front of the cabin. Her heart was racing when she returned to his seat, the action of spreading the linen tablecloth requiring much more attention that ever before. She blushed as she unfolded the cloth napkin and placed it in his lap, her slender hands shaking, knowing that he knew her thoughts were on the shaft beneath. As she arranged his silverware she felt his hand once more inside her skirt, plucking at the material covering her sex, the message clear. After serving his lunch, she got a knife from the galley and slipped into the narrow bathroom. It was awkward, but she managed to bunch her skirt above her waist and pull down her stockings to mid thigh. The knife cut through the thin material quite easily, and the wet panties followed. As she cleared the trays of the two men in front, she wondered if they could see her agitation or if they could smell the juices running down her thighs. When she returned to the man in the back, her eyes were bright and her throat was dry. His chair was back in the reclining position, and the food tray was placed on the table near the window. She removed the table cloth from the his table, then lifted it and latched it to the back of the seat. As she did she noticed the cloth napkin in his lap, tented considerably by the massive cock beneath. Her fingers shook as she removed the napkin, and she suppressed a gasp when she saw the turgid shaft sticking lewdly out of the now-opened fly. She'd never seen anything as large as the uncircumcised head that stared back at her, or anything as thick as the shaft. Tearing her eyes away, she looked into his face, watching as his tongue came out and slowly traced his lips, wetting them. She knew what he wanted, what he demanded, and her juices flowed even more as she imagined doing what she must, taking that cock into her mouth. Dr. Poulsen smiled to himself as the stewardess knelt in the aisle and stroked his cock before tentatively taking the head inside her warm mouth. He'd miss this, he knew, taking women who were free of the effects of RCA. He'd recognized that this one was a natural slut the moment he'd boarded the plane. As he felt her lips press against his shaft, her tongue flickering over the sensitive head, he knew that it would be increasingly difficult to find and conquer such women in the future. Remembering his rape of the DiBriggio bitch, he also knew he'd miss the resistance. The muffled screams as he forced his cock into her dry cunt reminded him of his youth in Argentina, of his father's maids and cooks, how they struggled when he put them to the cock. How it sometimes took a vicious beating before they succumbed. Bringing his attention back to the present, he felt the pressure of the stewardess's sucking increase, and he decided that he'd have to stop her if he wanted to prolong the subjugation. Pulling her head off his cock, he leaned forward until his mouth was close to her ear. "The galley, cunt. Five minutes after you start the movie.' As the stewardess climbed unsteadily to her feet, then moved down the aisle, he smiled to himself, wondering if the two men sitting up front would notice her slightly disheveled appearance or the smeared lipstick. He got his answer ten minutes later, when he brought his tray up to the galley in the front of the first class compartment. Glancing at the two men to his left, he saw them smile at him, and one of them winked. Before entering the galley, Poulsen held up a hand with the fingers spread. "Five minutes,' he mouthed to the grinning men before pushing the galley curtains aside and entering. The look of shame and desire on the stewardesses face caused his cock to harden as soon as his eyes found the comely blond. Within a minute he had manhandled the pliant girl so she was facing the small window in the wall, bent at the waist, her hands holding the wall for support as his cock worked its way inside her. She came twice before he erupted in her tight cunt, then again as the man from 1A took his turn fucking his smaller cock into her gooey pussy, the shame and humiliation of her abuse adding to her pleasure, and theirs. The third and last first class passenger spent only a minute inside her well-fucked hole before turning her around and using her mouth for his pleasure. By the time the seat belt sign illuminated for the descent into Stapleton airport in Denver, the submissive stewardess had drained all three men a second time. - o - Unknown to each other, two men on the flight to Denver exited the plane and headed for the same gate for the connecting flight to Topeka. Dr. Poulsen noticed the other man first, struck by how much the husky stranger reminded him of his father. It wasn't just the two-hundred fifty pounds or the massive shoulders on the six-foot traveler that evoked Joseph Mengele to his son. It was the restless intelligence in the bright blue eyes that scanned the waiting area, examining and categorizing every traveler before moving on to the next. Gene Myers played his favorite game as he waited for the boarding announcement for his flight to Topeka, examining each person he saw and guessing at their age and occupation. As his eyes settled on the tall, distinguished man near the windows, he said to himself, "Fifty... maybe a few years older, and I wish I was in that shape in five years. CEO... someone used to command, to giving orders that will be carried out. A player.' The Stepford Wives - Chapter Thirteen Friday, September 8 3:15 p.m. Janice Cheever pulled her eye from the electron microscope and rubbed her eyes. The slender black woman knew she wasn't seeing things, even if her many years as a top-notch lab technician had left her unable to solve the mystery of what she saw, the twisted molecule blown up to 50,000 times its normal size. She glanced at the paperwork, noticing that this blood sample came to the lab directly from Peter Goodwin, the Big Kahuna of the Center for Disease Control. The lab form was absent the usual patient identification data or the contact information of the physician or lab that had sent it in. Typical of big shots, she thought to herself. She pressed the button that would produce a high-quality computerized image of the strange substance, then went to her phone to call Goodwin's office. - o - Detective Jim Cooper read through the autopsy report with a scowl on his face. If he allowed himself to think about it, which he wouldn't, he would have felt sorry for the victim. What pissed him off was that he got this case, and it was looking like his statistics would take another hit. Unless something fell in his lap, this one looked didn't look like a winner. She'd been raped, but the seminal fluid in her badly torn vagina was non-secreting. Even if they found a suspect they couldn't match his blood type to the semen. Time of death was between nine and eleven P.M. Thursday night. Only one neighbor was home during this time and she'd heard nothing. No fingerprints. No witnesses. No guilt-ridden confessor. No wallet left at the scene (damn!). Leaning back in his chair, the detective rubbed his eyes. It was either a rape, with the robbery an added bonus for the perp, or the other way around. Probably the former, he thought ruefully, because what thief would bring a ball gag to a job. It could be, and often was, someone she knew. A jilted boyfriend perhaps, or one of the psychologist's patients. "Fuck,' he said out loud. What it was he probably would never know. It would be at least a week of interviews, all the faculty at the college, her students, and a court order to access her patient records that would probably be denied by the fuckin' judge. Another goddamn hit to his stats. - o - Rhett Graham shifted in his sleep, rolling onto his side and up against the warm body of his wife. His dreams were filled with the images of naked women, and he and they were fucking and sucking up a storm. In his mind, their features came into focus only occasionally, and seemed to change almost as soon as he pictured them... Linda Waterson, taking his cock down to the root, trying with all her might to suck the cum out of his balls... Lisa Quinn, bent over, looking back over her shoulder at him while he fucked her ass... Jessica, sucking pussies, cocks... his, others... Jessica woke to the feeling of her husband's hard cock pressed up against her ass. After a moment to collect her senses, she realized by the sound of his breathing that he was still asleep. Smiling to herself, remembering her own erotic dreams of late, she lifted her leg up and reached down to find his cock and position it at her sex. It was awkward work easing down the bed, but she managed to get most of his cock inside. Feeling his cock throb inside her, and the warmth of his body pressed into her back, she closed her eyes and dozed. Drifting in and out of sleep, she came awake when she felt his hips moving just so, his cock edging back and forth in her sex. Then it stopped and she dozed again, until he began rocking back and forth, this time with more insistence, small noises coming from his mouth. In Rhett's dream he was fucking into Lisa Quinn's cunt, on the floor of his office, and she was cuming underneath him, her eyes wide open, their innocence replaced with a burning passion. When he couldn't hold back any longer he grabbed the girl and drove his erupting cock hard and fast into her churning sex. Jessica felt his arm wrap around her, then the quickened pace of his cock in her sex, filling her with his warm cum. She was not close enough to cum with him, but she smiled happily to herself, wondering what dream that set him off. And she was surprised when he didn't wake through his orgasm. Instead, he finished and rolled onto his back and, within minutes, was snoring. "Slam, bamm, and not even a thank-you ma'am,' she said to herself. Jessica knew that she'd have to roll Rhett over if we wanted to stop him from snoring, and that if she didn't, he'd keep her awake. Glancing at the clock, she knew Katie would be waking soon, and finally decided to get up. "You're up early, Gene,' she said, entering the kitchen to find Myers sitting at the breakfast table drinking coffee. She felt a little immodest, dressed as she was in only a robe and slippers, having decided after she shower to come down and start the coffee before dressing. "Coffee's ready,' he said, smiling at her, keeping his eyes on her face, trying not to notice the outline of her breasts showing through the light-weight robe, and the dark nipples clearly visible trough the fabric. "I'm usually an early riser, and with the time change coming west...' "Yeah, I remember trips to the west coast, waking up at four for the first couple of days.' Jessica poured herself a cup of coffee. With her back to Gene, she glanced down and saw that her breasts were partially visible in the gap of the robe, and that her nipples were erect from the coolness of the morning. "Oh, fuck it,' she thought to herself. "If Rhett can fuck me while sleeping, thinking of that slut Lisa Quinn, I can give Gene Myers an eyeful.' Turning and strolling toward the table, she took a seat. "I apologize about my attire, Gene. I didn't expect that you'd be up just yet.' This time he didn't bother to hide his gaze, sipping his coffee and looking at her over the top of the mug. He set it down and smiled at her. "I don't mind a'tall, ma'am,' he said in his folksiest drawl, "the coffee and a right pretty lass'll help me wake up.' Jessica smiled, and blushed. This huge, slightly rumpled teddy-bear of a man had a quiet sex appeal that could be devastating. But he was married---not married like she and Rhett, she reminded herself, enjoying in their fantasies other partners, and lately, in person---he was married married. An ex-FBI agent, married to an FBI agent, both probably as squeaky clean as people get. Still, she could imagine... "I've got some questions if you don't mind startin' out early,' he said. She nodded, sipping her coffee. "This girl that you got the blood sample from, Lisa Quinn?' "Yeah, she's Rhett's secretary at the plant.' "Thanks. I'm thinking we should find Dr. DiBriggio, and see what she's done with the sample. And also, maybe we should get samples from you and Katie, maybe Rhett too.' "Katie'll love that,' Jessica replied, cringing at the thought of exposing her girl to a needle. She was deathly afraid of shots. "It's been real hard to get in touch with Carolyn, er, Dr. DiBriggio, not being able to use the phones here.' "I'll have that taken care of this morning.' "Oh?' "I'll set up an A-B box, er, a kind of switch, so that when we want to make sensitive calls, we can, without making your listening friend suspicious.' "Great.' Gene got up to pour himself another cup of coffee. "Say, Jessica, how did you manage to draw that blood sample, from Lisa Quinn?' She was glad his back was to her, so he couldn't see her blush. Clearing her throat she said, "I think the term is, I slipped her a mickey.' "Oh?' he said, turning back and taking his seat, a gleam of admiration in his eyes. "And how did you explain it to her when she came to.' Jessica was saved from answering when Katie came bursting into the room. "Morning, Mommy.' The girl, dressed in her sleeper pajamas with the Mickey Mouse feet, stood next to her mom and stared opened-mouthed at Gene Myers. "Boy, you're big!' she said. The girl had been in bed when Myers arrived the night before, but she'd been told the man was coming to spend a few days with them. Myers lifted himself out of his chair, slowly, turning his face into a comic book-like menace. "And I'm mean,' he growled. Katie shrieked and threw herself into Jessica's lap, but saw the big friendly grin on the strangers face, and knew she'd been had. "I wasn't really scared,' she said. "Mr. Myers knows you're a brave little girl, pumpkin,' said Jessica, then added, with a devilish grin directed toward her guest, "and I'll bet if you ask real nice, he'll make you pancakes. With butter and syrup.' "Oh, yes!' she squealed. "Will you? Oh, please!' Gene Myers held up his hands in surrender, thinking that this woman was not only sexy as hell, but also that she was at least as smart as Clarice had said she'd be. Smart and sassy. Rhett came downstairs thirty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed for his golf game with Geoff Reynolds. He found the three of them sitting around the kitchen table, eating pancakes and drinking coffee. Well, Gene and Jessa were eating, he noted, and little Katie was inhaling the last of her stack. He patted his daughter on the head and leaned over to kiss her, then his wife. From his position leaning over, he couldn't have missed the generous view of his wife's full breasts down the front of her robe. This reminded him of his erotic dreams of the night before, and the wet spot he'd found on the bed. Had he--- "G'morning,' he said, to the room, pushing those thoughts aside. "I'm done, mommy. Can I go watch cartoons?' Katie cried, jumping out of her seat, not waiting for an answer. "Sure, honey,' Jessica said to her daughter's back as she ran to the family room. "Pancakes, huh?' said Rhett, helping himself to a mug of coffee. "Yeah, Rhett,' said Gene, "your scheming wife trapped me into making them. Sit down and I'll make you a stack.' Rhett took the seat his daughter had just vacated. "Don't bother with a new plate, this one's licked clean.' After sipping his coffee he added, "You're right about Jessa, though. She can be a scheming little bitch.' "Oh, Rhett, honey' she said, batting her eyes, "you say the sweetest things.' After finishing his pancakes and coffee, Rhett announced that he had to leave for his Golf game. Gene was at the sink in the kitchen, doing up the dishes, as Rhett leaned over and kissed his wife. He held the kiss longer than usual, reaching into her robe to fondle her breasts. Breaking the kiss but not his hold on one nipple, pulling the nub as he brought his mouth to her ear. "Was that you last night, or this morning?' He felt her nod. "Well, sweetie, I owe you one... and in my absence, well, Gene's a great guy.' He stepped away and was out the door to the garage as Jessica gathered her robe back in place, feeling her sex ooze at the touch of his hands, and the naughtiness of his suggestion. She got up from the table and brought her mug to Gene at the sink, trying to push the thoughts from her mind. "I should go get dressed,' she said, then kicked herself for emphasizing, to herself if not to her guest, that she was naked under her robe. "I can give you a hand,' she added, too quickly, "with the phone stuff.' Gene turned and dried his hands on a dish towel, seeing in her face the obvious embarrassment. Standing this close to her, he could see down the front of her robe. He let his eyes linger on the smooth round flesh, feeling a stirring in his loins. He tossed the towel onto the counter and placed his hands on the counter on either side of her. Jessa held her breath as Gene trapped her against the counter, wanting him the kiss her, take her. Looking up into his face she saw a shy grin and humor in his eyes. Desire was there too, but it was held in check. "As much as I enjoy the view, Jessica,' he said, "it would be more than a little bit distracting.' He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, then turned and walked away. Jessica let her breath out and stood there for a moment, questioning what just happened, and her motives. "Did I really want him to fuck me?' She had to admit she did, in part because he was incredibly sexy, but also because Rhett had fucked her that morning, leaving her happy but unsatisfied. As she went upstairs to dress, she concluded to herself that she very much wanted to fuck Gene Myers, but that it would have to be his idea, and the likelihood that the big southerner would initiate such a thing was remote. "Oh, well,' she said out loud as she entered her bedroom, going directly to the nightstand next to her side of the bed. With a white vibrating dildo in her hand, she entered the bathroom and locked the door. - o - Gene Myers set up his equipment in the basement after replacing the phone intercept on the pole at the street with an almost identical one that he'd brought. The long table contained his PC with FAX capability, scanner, speaker phone and several other pieces of electronics that Jessica couldn't identify. "You should make all calls of a sensitive nature down here,' Gene was saying. "That way you won't forget to toggle the A-B switch, here. It's important that you, we, remember to switch it off and back on again. Who-ever's listening would become suspicious if you stopped makin' any calls.' Jessica flipped the switch to off, and turned her Rolodex to Carolyn DiBriggio's card. The call to her apartment got only her answering machine, and Jessica left a message that she was trying to reach her, and would keep trying. Calls to her friend's two offices also came up empty, and she left messages there as well. Gene placed the next call, to his home in Virginia, and was pleased to find Clarice in. Putting the conversation on speaker phone, he brought his wife up to date on the developments, including the fact that the blood samples had been sent to Dr. DiBriggio, and that they hadn't been able to reach her. "Wait a minute...could you hold on for a second,' she said, and Jessica noticed Gene stiffen at the tone of his wife's words. She came back on a minute later, and Jessica felt a icy chill run down her spine at the Agent's first words, "I don't know how to say this, Jessica, um... in this morning's Washington Post, an article in the metro section... well, damn, I'm terribly sorry, but Carolyn DiBriggio is reported dead.' - o - In the vestry of the small church, Sister Mary Katherine chatted with several small groups of parishioners. Most of the congregation had left shortly after the mass was read. A small line had formed inside the sanctuary, waiting to give confession to the priest. She was as happy as she'd ever been, and it showed in her smiling face and ready laugh. The Catholics of Stepford, used to the somewhat dour priest, were delighted with the enthusiastic and effervescent nun. She didn't know why she woke each morning with a feeling of joy in her heart, or where the boundless energy came from. The brisk morning walks through the countryside were new for her but she found it a great way to begin each day. A long hot bath usually followed, and her fingers played in her sex with none of the residual guilt she used to experience. Oh, and the orgasms! She'd never even attempted to cum more than once before, not even as a sixteen-year old when she first began to explore her body and it's passions. Lately, however, she could cum and cum and... stopping only when the bath water got too cold. And the images in her mind, of hard cocks... sucking them into her mouth, feeling them spurt and fill her mouth or sex with warm nectar. The images were so real... the feel of a man's chest pressed against her breasts as his cock stroked back and forth inside her, his lips covering hers, the tongue fucking into her mouth... all so vivid, despite her virginity. As she talked to the men and women in the vestry, she did so from a stronger spiritual base than ever before, her words of encouragement and hope coming from someplace deep inside her. Each of the worshipers in turn thanked her for her help or for just being here in Stepford. She turned after saying good-bye to one elderly couple to find Michael O'Brien and a tall woman approaching. "Sister Mary,' said O'Brien, shaking her hand. "Ah, Michael O'Brien, is it, coming to Church even,' she said, her voice a sing-song Irish brogue. She liked O'Brien quite a lot and just managed to suppress a blush at the thought of how often he was the main player in her fantasies. Seeing the look he gave her, she wondered if the reverse might also be true. "I'd like you to meet my good friend Samantha Weeks,' he said, releasing her hand and turning toward his companion. "Sam is the principal of Stepford High and this,' he said bowing slightly toward the nun, "is the lovely angel of mercy, Sister Mary Katherine.' Sister Mary shook her hand, surprised that she could see in the woman's intelligent gray eyes the same look of appreciation (desire?) that she'd come to expect from men. As she talked to the educator, she noticed that the woman's eyes glanced down at the swell of her breasts, just like she'd seen Mike O'Brien and several other male parishioners do. But before she could give it much thought, Mike O'Brien leaned over and whispered something in her ear. As Sam Weeks looked on, he very quickly put her under and gave her the suggestions he had planned, ones that would kick in later in the afternoon. "So what do you think? Of Sister Mary?' Mike and Sam were sitting in the far back booth of the Stepford diner, each with a large platter of eggs and hash browns in front of them. "Delicious,' Sam replied around a mouthful of bacon, "really a lovely girl. Almost made it worth sitting through my first mass. And aside from the obvious fact that she's a nun, isn't the good sister a touch old for a cradle-robbing pervert like you.' Mike smiled. "Would you be serious for just a moment, you fuckin' dyke of a he-bitch. You like em' young too. Young and naughty. How many cherries did you pop this summer? Over thirty, I figure, if you count both sides.' "About that, maybe. Back to the lovely sister---are you telling me she's naughty like the others? A slut?' "Yes and no,' he said, then briefed his buddy on the sister's newly reinforced attitude toward sex, and the link she had confessed to under hypnosis between her enjoyment of sex and her spirituality. After he was done he saw a grin on Sam's face. "Shit, Mike, you're more of a pervert than I thought. Let's do it.' Sister Mary showered after shaving her legs and underarms, allowing herself only one orgasm before turning off the water and drying off. It seemed to her the most natural thing in the world to slip into her habit without donning her panties, bra or slip. The thick fabric felt strange rubbing against her bare nipples, causing them to stiffen and tent the habit. She couldn't remember why she was expected at the high school this Sunday afternoon, but she was brimming with joy as she drove to the other end of town, singing along with the oldie playing on the radio, "Stand by your man... give him two arms to cling to And something warm to come to When nights are cold and lonely. Stand by your man, and show the world you love him Keep giving all the love you can. Stand by your man.' The Stepford Wives - Chapter Fourteen Sunday, September 10 3:30 p.m. Mike led the nun into the gym and across the gleaming hardwood floor. He'd put her under a few minutes before, long enough to remind her of their Holy search for spirituality through sex, and to prepare her for Sam. But as they entered the weight room off the gym, Mike wasn't sure he'd prepared her quite enough for the shock of Samantha Weeks. At one end of the room the floor was covered with thick blue wrestling mats, and walls of this section were covered on three sides with mirrors. Standing in the middle of all this was Sam, nude except for the harness strapped around her crotch. Her entire body had been oiled and as they watched she struck various poses that caused different muscles groups to ripple and stand out from her otherwise slender body. "Oh, my,' said Sister Mary, her hand going to her mouth as she watched the strange man/woman stretch and strain. Consistent with Mike's earlier suggestions, she saw only the long, thick cock standing out and up from the man's crotch, and not the harness and straps that held the phallus and heavy balls in place. The smallish breasts were those of a woman, however, and were capped by long, thick nipples. Feeling Mike's hand on her waist, she let herself be led toward the man-woman, and she felt her pussy throb as she stared at the oily cock jutting at a forty-five degree angle, hoping that their Holy purpose would result in that huge shaft entering her mouth and sex. Sam had watched them enter and cross to the mats, stopping a yard or so away. He saw the nuns eyes on the ten inch phallus he wore, and smiled when he saw her lips part and tongue come out to wet her lips. As Mike had suggested when they discussed this over brunch, he bowed at the waist toward the beautiful nun, then addressed her. "His Holiness has told me of your noble quest, dear Sister, and I hope I can be of some assistance,' he said. Both Mike and Sam were surprised at the nun's quick response. One hand went to pull off the headdress while the other began undoing the latch at her throat, then the zipper of her habit. Within twenty seconds, the sister was stepping out of the black and white pile at her ankles, naked now except for the white running shoes on her feet. Sam Weeks looked at the lush body of the nun with a new fire in his loins, the full white breasts, freckled lightly at the tops, and the softly rounded belly contrasting against his own rock hard body and small breasts. Taking her into his arms, feeling the cock pressed between them, her womanly breasts pressed into his oiled chest, he leaned down and kissed her. The kiss continued as he lowered the two of them to their knees, then broke for a moment while he lowered the woman to the mat. His eyes lingered on her full, soft breasts, the coral nipples erect and looking so very suckable, then the silky strawberry blond hair between her legs. As he spread her legs apart, he could see that she was already wet, the pink lips of her sex glistening with her secretions. This was a woman, he found himself thinking. Not a teenage fuck-toy like the girls he and Mike had used all summer, and as different as could be from the burnt-out pieces of ass he'd had in Greenwich Village. As he moved into position, the woman pulled her knees back almost to her chest, her slit gaping open, leaking, waiting for his cock. After moving the rubber head in small circles over her lips, he slipped the massive head inside. At the first contact of the cock with her clit, Sister Mary lowered her feet back to the floor and lifted her ass off the mat, pushing herself toward the cock, forcing the shaft several inches into her tight cunt. She came almost immediately, the spasms of her cunt now easing the way. The man-woman was over her now, staring down into her face as her head rolled from side to side, the orgasm peaking, then beginning anew as she felt her sex stretched wide by the invading cock. She cried out and pushed her hips up again, impaling herself another inch or two on the cock. Sam had never seen anything like the woman cuming under him. He pushed, and the resistance of her tight hole stopped him again, sending a jolt back through the phallus to his clit. Again and again he drove forward and experienced a flash of pleasure as his progress was stopped. When at last the cock was fully inside the writhing woman, he came as well. Mike had been watching this with mixed feelings. He was excited by the cries from Sister Mary, at the obvious pleasure she was feeling. He also felt regret that she was getting this pleasure from someone other than he, and was, he acknowledged, a little bit jealous. But when he saw that Sam was cuming as well, he knelt between his friends legs and reached for the rubber balls. He knew from the times Sam had fucked him that squeezing the sacs would send a small torrent of a cum-like substance rushing up the long shaft. The nun knew he was cuming, and her own orgasm soared yet again when she felt the warm blast against her womb. Again and again she felt the cock erupt deep inside her, and her orgasm rocked her body until she felt her consciousness ebb away. Sam rolled the dozing woman onto her belly, and settled between her splayed legs, his head resting lightly on the pillowy soft checks of her ass. Her skin was so white and flawless and soon he was running his tongue over the smooth flesh, kissing and biting playfully. When he began sliding his tongue down the deep crack of her ass, flicking it back and forth, he felt the Sister stir. "Oh, my,' Sister Mary said, opening her eyes, the pleasurable sensations coming from the flickering tongue in her crack new to her. Pushing herself up onto her arms she turned, seeing His Holiness to her left, removing the last of his clothes, his cock rigid. Lying behind her was the man-woman, his face buried in her ass. As the tongue neared her anus she moaned and instinctively pulled away, but as she came to her knees the tongue followed her and she felt hands holding onto her hips. "Oh, God,' she cried as the tongue flickered back and forth over her most-private hole, the exciting sensations coursing through her body. Distracted for a moment as her lover/teacher knelt before her, presenting her with his cock, she opened her mouth and sucked it inside. As she sucked the cock her attention returned to her ass, feeling the tongue stabbing inside. Mike heard and felt her moans around his cock, not minding in the least that her attention was not fully on the task. Combing his fingers through the silky strawberry tresses, he took hold of her head and began sliding his cock back and forth in her warm, wet mouth. Sam positioned his hands so his thumbs could pry apart the cushiony cheeks of her ass, giving his tongue better access to the crinkled rosette. Rolling his tongue into a spear, he forced it past the sphincter and into her hole. After less than a minute of tongue fucking, he felt her body tremble, and his chin was sprayed by the discharge of her cum. After her tremendous orgasm died down, Sister Mary moaned as the tongue was pulled out of her ass. The cock in her mouth continued to fuck in and out, and she sucked on it lovingly, wishing that she could somehow take all of it in her mouth, but his thrusts stopped short of her throat, and her attention was once again divided as she felt a cock enter her sex. Mike watched as Sam's ten inch phallus cleaved the cheeks of her ass and worked inside her cunt. As more and more of the oily shaft disappeared inside, he felt the Sister's hand on his hip, the dainty fingers gripping his flesh. The other hand followed, and he discovered her purpose when she pulled him towards her, his cock driving up against her throat. "Oh, yes, Sister Mary,' he said, his voice hoarse. "Take me deep... breathe out of your nose and try to swallow my cock.' Trying her best to put aside the incredible feeling of the cock fucking back and forth in her sex, filling her as never before, Sister Mary concentrated on the cock in her mouth, gagging as she tried to swallow the bulbous head. Willing the reflex away, she took the cock an inch into her throat. The next time she rocked forward she was able to take it deeper. Mike gritted his teeth against the pleasure and eroticism of the Sister's effort, holding back the cum that churned in his balls. But soon it was too much, and he tightened his grip on her head and took back control, driving his erupting cock deep into her incredibly tight throat with every thrust. As the cock exploded in her throat, the Sister came again, feeling the intense orgasm race through her body as she was impaled at both ends, her body filled with cock, her mind open to the clarity of spiritual thought that always accompanied her release. It began twenty minutes later, just a flicker of something on the edge of her thoughts, but it wouldn't fully form in her mind, or go away. She didn't press it, instead giving her mind over to the feeling of the cock in her sex, and the mouth sucking and chewing on her nipples. Sam Weeks increased the pace of his thrusts, hammering the long rubber phallus into the nun's cunt, digging for what would be his fourth orgasm of the afternoon. He'd lost track of how many times the Sister had cum, but knew it was at least a half-dozen since Mike slipped under her and began kissing and sucking her hanging breasts. When Sam came a few minutes later he heard the sister cry out as well, and he reached behind to squeeze the swinging balls, emptying the last of his cum into the trembling body of Sister Mary. The tendril of thought tugged again at the edge of her consciousness while she was slowly rocking up and down on top of her Holy master, enjoying this languid sex, the feel of his gentle hands on her breasts. After the hammering of the man-woman's longer, thicker cock, this was a delightful change. It was while looking down into his face, sensing rather than seeing, that she knew he was in love with her; not the love she felt for her church or God, but rather the love between a man and a woman. As her heart opened up, her senses cleansed and sharpened by the many orgasms of the past hour, she knew with certainty that she loved him as well. And suddenly she knew something else. The thought came sharply into focus, that she was fucking. In violation of her vows, she was fucking... Mike O'Brien... not some Holy or spiritual being. Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts and feelings form in her mind, finding very little resistance to her conclusion. "I'm fucking Michael O'Brien,' she said to herself, "and I love it as much as I love being a nun, serving the spiritual needs of the congregation. And I'm going to go on fucking him as long as he'll have me.' Opening her eyes, she smiled and lowered her mouth onto his, kissing him urgently, passionately. And when she felt his cock erupt in her sex, she experienced her final orgasm of the afternoon, her heart filled with the warmth of sexual and womanly love. - o - Clarice Starling walked hurriedly up the concourse, glancing out the tall windows to see Delta flight from Atlanta taxi to the gate. The passenger she was meeting was Dr. Peter Goodwin, research director for the Center for Disease Control, and she was anxious to get him to the FBI labs at Quantico. They'd been working for hours on the blood samples sent from the Grahams, and were looking forward to collaborating with the famous scientist. She hated that call she made Saturday afternoon, not knowing who he was or what his connection was to the late Dr. DiBriggio. But she and Jim Cooper, the Chevy Chase homicide detective, had checked the victim's voice mail at work and her answering machine at home, and had found several urgent messages from this man named Peter Goodwin. For Starling, the call to Goodwin was worse than the one with Jessica Graham, despite the distraught woman's break down when she was told of her friend's violent death. Jessica at least had Gene with her, and a husband to help her through the pain. Hearing Peter Goodwin after she told him of the reason for her call---or, rather, not hearing him---that long agonizing moment of silence, when Clarice knew at once that his connection with the victim was more than professional. Much more. The sob she heard before the phone went quiet once again, until at last he came back on the line... waiting through that minute of silence, knowing the awful thing she'd done to this stranger, was something she never wanted to experience again. She would have known this was Peter Goodwin even if she hadn't brought his photo. In contrast to the bored or business-like expressions on most of the travelers, the face on the man who approached her was as different as it could be. The burning eyes behind the wireless glasses, the firm set to the mouth and jaw, it was a mask of barely contained fury. "Starling?' "Yes, Dr.---' "Let's go,' he said between tightly clenched teeth, holding firmly onto her arm, leading her down the concourse and toward the exit. Clarice Starling couldn't follow the least bit of the fast-paced dialog between Goodwin and the collection of Bureau forensic scientists, chemists and the like. Her college science courses and forensic training at the Bureau was little help at this rarefied level of conversation. But she didn't have to understand the science to notice what was happening. In this room were several world-class scientists, but the brilliance of Goodwin crackled throughout the room, like an electrical discharge that you couldn't see but could feel all the same. "No! No, No, NO!!!,' shouted Goodwin, banging his fist on the table as if his loud voice needed emphasis. This was after one senior FBI scientist made a tentative observation about the worm-like shape on the slide projected onto the far wall of the conference room. Picking up the control for the slide projector, Goodwin marched to the front of the room and clicked to another slide of a photograph from the CDC's electron microscope. "Look, people,' he said, "see this fragment, here... and here. That's part of this fucking package. Or was, before the original substance was ingested.' Clicking to a new slide, he continued, "The asshole who designed this was smart, real smart. See here, where the fragment's gone, very likely destroyed by the acids in the stomach. It's a package within a package within a package. You can bet your house that once we find the original substance, it'll be encapsulated in some protein that will survive it's native environment... water, foodstuffs, pollen, whatever it is. In the stomach, that protective coating is dissolved, leaving this little baby. And I'm certain that this isn't the end product, look at this next slide....' Clarice Starling slipped out of the room, knowing that this effort wouldn't benefit from her presence. Back in her office she called the Director of Research and ordered a database search on any and all residents of Stepford, Kansas. Before she'd have to leave to catch her plane to Kansas, she'd have on her laptop every piece of data known about the residents: military or government service, all known past residences, jobs held, taxes paid, educational history, and any connection with any FBI investigation over the last half-century. - o - It would be a pretty community, once the trees, shrubs and grass grew in enough to hide the scars of the summer-long construction. But as it was the twelve new ranch-style homes looked very stark against the flat, barren landscape of this new development. Joseph Seven didn't mind one bit how the neighborhood looked as he eased his brand new BMW into the driveway. In response to his thumb on the opener, the garage doors swung up and he pulled the sedan into the garage. His garage. His BMW. His house. And when he went inside, he'd find the pretty sixteen year old girl, Sandra, who would shortly be his wife. He'd be twenty-two next month, and what he wanted more than anything for his birthday was to be able to tell his father that a grandchild was on the way. He suspected that his other eleven brothers shared his desire to be the first, and he wondered if they, too, had their wives checking their temperatures several times a day, looking for the spike that would tell them that ovulation was occurring. This competition, like the others when they played basketball or swam races against each other in their father's pool, wouldn't lessen the growing friendship between them. Knockin' up their teen-age whore brides would be another bond between he and his brothers, just like sharing the cunts among one another was becoming a regular practice. They'd agreed to Joseph One's suggestion that sex with another's wife should be limited to the slut's mouth or her back-door. Entering the house from the garage, he smiled to himself at the spotless kitchen, but was surprised when he came across Sandra in the living room, dressed only in a robe. Since they had moved in together, he'd been pleased that the girl dressed and did her hair and make-up to please him, always wearing dresses appropriate for a wife. But as he entered the room he saw her smile broadly and rise, pushing the robe off her shoulders as she did, displaying the body that never failed to make him hard. "I'm ready, honey,' she said, "my temperature's up... way up.' Her hands sliding down to the hairless lips of her sex, already moist in anticipation. "Fuck me, honey... give me your cock... let's make a baby!' Inside a minute Joseph had stripped off his clothes and had mounted the young girl, driving his cock into her tight, moist sex. Three minutes later he stopped his frantic thrusts into the writhing girl, holding his position deep inside her while his cum blasted her fertile womb. After carefully pulling out, he sat on his heels and pulled her hips up into his lap, achieving an angle that would insure that his seed stayed deep inside. Ten minutes later he took her again, this time with her ass balanced on the arm of the sofa, her body on the cushions below. Fucking down into his future wife, it took much longer before he achieved his release, and he counted four orgasms from the girl before he filled her with his cum. The Stepford Wives - Chapter Fifteen Monday, September 11 1:45 p.m. Mike O'Brien was surprised when the knock on his office door was followed by the entrance of Sister Mary. He glanced at his desktop calendar to confirm, yes, this was Monday afternoon. The nun wasn't expected on the wards until Tuesday. Tuesday and Thursday. But when he saw her eager, smiling face, he forgot all about the schedule, and rose from his chair, feeling the now-familiar tug in his heart at the sight of her. It was then he noticed that she wasn't wearing her habit, but was dressed instead in a black and gold Notre Dame sweatshirt and a pair of blue jeans. "Sister Mary,' he said. "Just Megan, now,' she said, taking a seat on the corner of his desk, facing him. "Megan Sullivan. I'll explain if you've got a minute.' "Yeah, um, yes, of course.' "It won't be official for a few days now, not until the Cardinal rules on the FAX I sent him last night. But I'm leaving the sisterhood.' "What?' he said, dreading what he knew was coming, that she was leaving Stepford as well. "Why, Sister Mary--- er, Megan?' "In large part because of you, Mike. I hardly slept a wink last night, thinking about everything that's happened to me here. The sex, which I loved, but that was against the solemn vows I've taken. It was a hard decision to reach, but I finally decided that I could do the work I love, but not within the Catholic Church, and hopefully have the man I love, too. Y'see, I love you, Michael O'Brien.' Mike sat back in his chair, stunned. "And you love me too. I can see that as clearly as the nose on your Irish face.' Mike looked into her face for a long time, knowing that she was speaking the truth, and feeling a deep sadness, instead of the elation he always expected he'd feel at this moment. He knew he'd lied to and manipulated the girl, and many others in Stepford. As he looked into the amazingly open face of the woman he loved, he was forced to look into his own heart. He didn't like what he saw there. "Sister,' he said, then held up his hand when she was about to correct him. "Sister Mary Katherine... I need you to hear me out, and if you love me even half as much as I do you, you'll give me this chance to talk. To explain why you shouldn't leave the Church, at least not for a man like me.' She listened for the forty-five minutes it took for Mike to tell her of his deeds, the confession covering his real job at the hospital helping Dr. Poulsen's RCA plan, of his frequent adultery with the women who volunteered in the wards, and of his use of subterfuge and hypnosis to convince the Sister to have sex with him. The newly re-christened Megan Sullivan let him speak, never taking her eyes off his face, until he was done, his head buried in his hands. She waited until his sobs had finished before she lifted him up so he was sitting back in his chair. Sitting in his lap, she held his head between her hands and looked into his face. "Three things. One, I still love you and it's probably my curse to love you until I die. Two, you and I have some work to do to set things right, but that can start tomorrow. Three, I want you to take me to your home, right now. I want you to make love to me, not as Sister Mary, and not under some magic spell. I want you to make love me as to Megan Sullivan, your future wife.' Mike rolled Megan onto her back, and eased his body on top of hers, his head even with her large breasts. Taking a rosy nipple between his lips he let his tongue flicker over it until it was quite long and stiff. After kissing and suckling and her milky-white breasts for several minutes, he slid down her body, kissing as he went, until he was between her legs. As his mouth covered her sex, gently sucking and lapping the juices from their first bout, he heard her moan and felt her fingers in his hair. The first time had been a little awkward; he'd felt clumsy and unsure of himself as they'd undressed each other, conscious that this was his first time in years with a woman who wasn't hypnotized. And he knew that this would seem to her like her first time, and he wanted it to be perfect. It hadn't been perfect. He'd never before made love to a woman. He'd fucked many dozens, but never one that looked at him with the same love that he felt for her. Their faces inches from one another, his cock in the warm vice of her sex, he'd felt a heightened awareness like never before... the feel of her breasts under his chest, the hard nipples pressing into him... her soft belly against his... the arm around his back, the fingers playing in the hair at his neck... her sweet breath on his face... oh, and the feeling of his cock inside her. His cock had stiffened and erupted in her sex after less than a minute and, thankfully, she had cum as well as they kissed through the pleasures of their sudden release. This time, would be better, he told himself, sliding his fingers under her ass, lifting her up just a bit so he could flick his tongue over the hard nub of her clit, and watch over her the mound of her pubis, through the valley of her breasts, seeing her head come up to watch him and to let him watch her. She held her eyes on his even as she came, as her body and mind filled with the pleasure of her orgasm, of her love. The second time inside her had been perfect, the greatest pleasure he'd ever known. Taking his pleasure from hers, loving her more as each orgasm came and reflected itself in the beauty of her open, guileless face, her sex becoming hotter, wetter, with each stroke of his cock. After his cock had finished erupting inside her, the feeling of release, and love, the most fulfilling of his life, he watched as her eyes closed and her head fell gently to the side. It was then he realized that she must be exhausted, remembering that she'd told him of her restless night. He'd slipped out of her and gone to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth. As she slept, he cleaned her as best he could, then climbed in bed and held the sleeping woman in his arms. He awoke sometime later in the middle of the night to find Megan under the covers, her mouth and tongue exploring his cock. He closed his eyes and let the wonderful feelings build and build until he exploded in the tightness of her throat. Megan woke at the first night of dawn, and heard the sound of running water in the bathroom. The joy that had greeted her mornings of late was even stronger, and she smiled broadly, thanked her God for showing her the way. She found Mike in the bathroom, his hair damp, a towel wrapped around his waist. He opened his arms as she approached, gathering her naked body to his, and his kiss was long and wet, thrilling her to her core. "Your bath is drawn, m'lady' he said, then held her hand as she stepped into the hot scented water. She rested her head against the pillow he'd fashioned using a towel, relaxing in the hot water, watching as he knelt by the tub and began bathing her. He began at her feet, washing them thoroughly with a soapy washcloth, using his fingers between her dainty toes. She had one small orgasm before he finished her front, when one hand was washing her breasts, caressing them really, and the other was between her legs. A few minutes later, lying in the tub on her stomach now, she had another after his soapy fingers had played on, around and then finally inside her ass. They sat on his bed, naked, feeding each other from the tray sitting between them, picking up a fresh strawberries, coating it in whipped cream or chocolate sauce before sliding it in one another's mouths. Laughing, giggling as their bodies and the bed became more of a mess... talking. Mike answered her questions about sex, telling her after she insisted what they'd done together and with Samantha Weeks, some of which she remembered. Telling her all that was possible between a man and a woman, between a husband and wife. Seeing in her eyes desire, that she wanted to try it all, with him. Leaning over, licking the whipped cream off her chin, then the chocolate sauce off her breast, and then her belly... - o - The preliminary report from Dr. Goodwin and the team of FBI scientists was FAXed to Stepford Monday night, and was largely incomprehensible to Clarice Starling and Gene Myers. However, there were several conclusions and observations that helped them direct their activities. One, don't drink the water. They tested a sample of tap water and found a substance that shouldn't be there. Further analysis had shown that this substance would be broken down by the acids in the stomach to yield the same amino acid-based molecule found in the blood samples of both of the Grahams and Lisa Quinn. Two, the individual or team who created the additive was world class, supported by a state-of-the-art laboratory. The scientists could only speculate as to how the substance worked to alter the subject's personality, but to accomplish this, no matter how it was done, required the inventor to have solved many thorny physiological and psychological puzzles. In the worldwide scientific community, there was nothing published that would even hint that such a breakthrough was possible. Three, the concentration of the substance in Jessica Graham's blood was not significantly different from that of Lisa Quinn. The report concluded that there must be another (not yet understood) step in the biochemical process, that required time to create the behavioral symptoms observed in the town's women. In their make-shift basement HQ, Clarice and Gene sorted through the data on the residents of the town and the surrounding county land. Or, at least, they tried to. They could hear from upstairs the sharp voices of the Graham couple, and they couldn't help but listen in. "I think he's right,' whispered Clarice to her husband, "she should take Katie and get out of here. Who knows how this stuff works, and whether it's permanent.' "Yeah,' said Gene. "If I was Rhett, I'd be arguing the same thing, but, honey, if you were Jessica you'd be tellin' me to go fuck myself. That little lady is tougher than you may think, and she feels like she may be responsible for a friend being killed. She's not gonna run away from a fight, and neither would you. But what they should do is send Katie away.' On that all four would agree. It wasn't all that difficult to find the name among the Stepford residents. Dr. Richard Poulsen had the impressive science background (the degrees from Stanford), and his position as head of the V.A. hospital might give him the access he needed to labs to make the stuff. And there was a suspicious eighteen year hole in his background, beginning after his post-doctorate work at Johns Hopkins, to the point seven years ago when he took this appointment in the V.A.. Clarice toggled the switch which would insure that her call wasn't recorded, then called Quantico. She ordered a detailed background check on Poulsen, including his place of work during the 18-year hole in the Bureau's record of his life. Gene, meanwhile, had downloaded the manifests of all logical flights between BWI and KC, and was cross checking against the database of Stepford residents. Through the small basement window, Clarice noticed a car pull up to the curb and a couple get out and begin up the walk to the house. As she rose her hand moved instinctively to check the automatic on her hip, and the speed-loader cartridges nearby. Satisfied that all was in order, she pulled her jacket off the back of the chair and slipped it on. "I'll get this one,' she said, and went up the stairs. - o - Rhett was annoyed, first at Jessica's stubbornness and then at the sound of the doorbell that interrupted their argument. He had called the office twice this morning, telling Lisa that he'd be later and then, later still. Grumbling to himself, he answered the door to find a young couple on the front porch, and his first thought was that they were Mormon missionaries. The girl especially, looked so fresh and attractive, and had a openness to her expression that could only belong to someone young and [annoyingly] sure of her path. "Mr. Graham,' said Mike O'Brien, "I suspect you're about to head to the plant, and I apologize for the intrusion. But if you'll give us ten minutes of your time, I think you'll decide that the job can wait, and that your family is more important.' "I think you'd better come in,' said Rhett. It was only after the door closed behind them that Mike noticed the thirtyish woman standing to one side of the door, her hand stuck inside her jacket. He nodded at her, noticing that her eyes scanned over his body, and Megan's. "She's a cop,' he thought to himself. "Follow me,' said Graham, leading the couple into the living room. After refusing his offer of coffee, Mike sat and waited until they were joined by Jessica Graham and a big stranger who had the most watchful eyes Mike had ever seen. The presence of these strangers bothered him, but he was determined to get this off his chest, and he drew strength from the presence of Megan's hand in his. "My name is Michael O'Brien,' he began, choosing the face of Jessica Graham as his focus, noticing the redness in her otherwise hazel eyes, "and I am the chief of staff at the V.A. hospital.' With his eyes on the wife, he didn't notice the two strangers stiffen at his words. "This is Megan Sullivan,' he said, indicating with his head toward the girl sitting next to him on the sofa. "Until recently, she was known as Sister Mary Katherine, and she served at Stepford's Catholic Church and did volunteer work at the hospital.' "Well, Michael... Megan,' said Jessica, nodding to one, then the other, "it's good to meet you. I'm Jessica Graham... my husband Rhett, and, um, our friends Gene and Clarice Myers.' Michael acknowledged the introductions with nods of his head, then continued, "I'm not sure exactly how to say this, and I may ramble a bit, but if you'll bear with me until I finish, I'd sure appreciate it.' Clarice and Gene were back in the basement ninety minutes later, waiting impatiently for the machinery in Washington to work as it must. Clarice had reached her boss, Sam Franklin, head of the Behavioral Science section of the FBI, briefed him on the alarming allegations from Michael O'Brien, and he had promised to reach Louis Freeh as soon as he hung up. The call came an hour later, and the two looked at one another with eyebrows raised as Franklin told them that Janet Reno as well as Louis Freeh were in the conference room with him. It wasn't often that Washington moved this fast. If she didn't feel intimidated enough, Dr. Peter Goodwin was also present. After clearing her throat, Clarice Starling proceeded to brief the Attorney General, FBI Director and the rest on what they'd learned from Mike O'Brien, and from their other work. Dr. Poulsen got the call two hours later, from his contact at the CIA, the same man that had spoken two weeks earlier to Dole's aide. William (Bill) Carlisle had been his manager for the latter years in Langly, and now was Deputy Director of Intelligence (Operations) at the Agency. "I can get into a lot of trouble just making this call, Dick. But you, of all people, know that. I'm calling to tell you that the files related to your work here have been requested by the Department of Justice, the request signed by the dragon lady herself.' "I thought those records were buried,' said Poulsen, his irritation and worry clear, "and that my name was purged from the Agency's data banks.' "They were and they are, by order of President Reagan, and it'll take an Executive order from Clinton to release them. But if Reno has found out enough to ask about them, I wouldn't put in past her to go to the top. What's going on, Dick? What in God's name are you up to?' Poulsen hesitated. They were so close. So damn close to achieving his dream. How could the fuckin' bitch Attorney General know about him, know about his plans? He made a mental list about all the people who knew of RCA: the six on his team, none of them would have the least incentive to talk because all were as deeply involved as he; Dole and his aide, but they had even less reason to screw things up; his twelve sons... He put this train of thought aside for later, when he had time to think. "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't know, Bill. Deniability and all that. I also give you my solemn word that you'd approve wholeheartedly.' When Poulsen had worked under Carlisle, he had learned that his boss's wife was an independent and very wealthy Washington socialite, albeit one with a social and political outlook far to the left of her husband. Poulsen knew that it irked Carlisle no end that his wife advanced her liberal agenda with generous financial contributions from her personal and sizable inheritance. Poulsen had helped the man bring the woman (and their two teenage daughters) into the Righteous state, and had spent many days and nights over the next several years at their elegant Georgetown home, or at their summer place on the shore of Long Island, enjoying with his boss the now-eager and pliant threesome. Poulsen continued, choosing his words carefully, "But if you can safety find out what's behind the Reno request, Bill, I think we'd all rest a little easier.' After ending the conversation and handing up the phone, Poulsen leaned back in his chair and thought long and hard about where this investigation had come from. He knew Carlisle would bust his balls to find out what was going on, lest his own situation and history become a source of inquiry. Finally, he decided to act. He placed a phone call to Joseph One, telling his eldest son to contact all of his brothers and meet him in an hour at his ranch. Joseph One put the phone down and returned his attention to the seventeen year-old red-head kneeling between his thighs. A minute after hanging up on his father, he groaned as the wife-slut of Joseph Nine took his cock once again into her throat, holding him there, her rosy lips pressed up against the base of his cock, as he blasted his cum down her throat and into her belly. - o - The final son came out of hypnosis, after answering all of his father's questions to his satisfaction. Poulsen was now very much satisfied that none of his sons, accidentally or otherwise, had compromised the mission. Not one of them had confided anything of import to their live-in whores, nor to anyone else. Joining his sons in his living room, he divided them into six teams of two each, discussing with each team in turn how it might accomplish the removal of their targets. It was risky, his plan to eliminate all of his team, but it would be riskier still if he tried to sort out who was responsible, or to take them one by one. The two tasked with eliminating Dr. Abbott would take him out at the office, staging the death to look like drug addicts had broken into the clinic and forced the physician/administrator to open the cabinets before putting a bullet through his brain. Sheriff Grant and, if necessary, any deputies would be taken out when he came to investigate at the clinic. Jim Collins at the water department would have an accident coming home from work, discovering too late that his car's brakes were out of commission. His team would follow him down the steep embankment along the reservoir and, if needed, do what was required to finish the job. Mike O'Brien would find his team of two Joseph's already in his apartment when he came home from work. If all went according to plan, the single man would be found some days later, the rubber tourniquet still in place around his upper arm, an apparent victim of a self-induced heroine overdose. Geoff Reynolds, and his wife, Poulsen decided after remembering how both had enjoyed Lisa Quinn and were probably more intimate than he liked, would be the apparent victims of a robber who killed the couple after taking their belongings outside the restaurant they dined at every Thursday night. The team for Lisa Quinn would abduct the girl outside her apartment, drive her into the hills, and rape her before slitting her throat. And, finally, they would take care of the Graham bitch, and her husband. Poulsen had learned nothing that might suggest that the housewife was anything but what he suspected, a newly Righteous woman, but he decided on impulse to have her and her husband brought to him. By midnight, all of his son's had returned. Poulsen was disturbed by the report of the two boys assigned to Mike O'Brien. They reported that his aide had never shown up, and also that his bedroom closet and dresser were mostly empty of clothes. They could find no suitcase in his two-bedroom apartment. "Then he's the one,' said Poulsen, not the least disturbed that he'd ordered five deaths that probably weren't necessary. "Well,' he thought to himself, "I will miss Lisa Quinn.' His thoughts went to the Graham couple. Two hours before, he learned from his CIA contact that they were somehow behind the Justice Department request for his files. That would be the last task of his boys, to bring them here so he could determine what they knew, what they had told, and where he might find Mike O'Brien. "Father.' Poulsen looked up to find Joseph One standing before him. "We all---every one of us---would like you to know that we would do anything for you. Anything. With the Lisa-slut gone, we want you to know that we would be honored to provide our whores for your personal use.' "And if your use of them should result in a child,' offered Joseph Seven, his voice cracking, knowing that his wife was ripe for conception, "it would be my honor---our honor---to raise your son as our own.' Poulsen watched as Joseph One snapped his fingers and in response twelve girls filed out from the hall leading to the back of the house. His heart swelled in his chest at this unselfish gesture, even as his cock responded in kind to the sight of the naked, nubile teens that formed a line to his left. The sight of their pert breasts and shaved cunts reminded him of his son's mothers, of how much he had enjoyed impregnating those sluts twenty-odd years ago. "We must leave, father,' said Joseph One. "And you can rest assured that we will return with the Graham couple.' The Stepford Wives - Chapter Sixteen Wednesday, September 13 12:45 a.m. Clarice and Gene were still hard at work in the Graham's basement when the unexpected attack commenced. They had just finished coordinating with the airborne SWAT team that would arrive in Topeka in an hour, and were completing their work cross-checking the incredible story from Mike O'Brien. So far, every fact checked out, even down to the date Dole and Poulsen had met at the Topeka Hilton. With the make-shift drapes pulled tight over the basement windows to shield the light from the neighbors, neither could have possibly noticed the three dark shapes moving toward the front of the house. It was the lack of advanced notice that undoubtedly saved their lives. When they heard the crash of doors being flung open, and the flurry of footsteps above them, the two FBI veterans were too far out of position to react effectively. Even though Clarice realized the hopelessness of their tactical situation, Gene had to hold his wife back to keep her from running up the stairs to the ground floor, to her certain death. It was hard for him, too, especially when he heard the scream from Jessica Graham. - o - Not wanting to disappoint any of his sons, Poulsen directed all of the girls to join him in his basement playroom. He selected a Brahms symphony for the occasion, and directed two of the girls to undress him while the music played. He had all twelve girls line up along the wall, in order of the age of their fiancées. It took several minutes before the giggling girls had it right and stood facing their future father-in-law, legs spread to shoulder width, hand in hand with the girl next to them. Poulsen started with the slender blond girl at the end, his hands covering the girl's firm breasts, squeezing them while he lowered his mouth over hers for a kiss. Before moving onto the next girl, he pushed two fingers into the juicy shaved cunt of Joseph One's bride-to-be. The next girl in line sucked the secretions off his fingers before Poulsen took the brunette's more ample breasts into his hands, thumbs pressing the hard nubs into the firm flesh while his tongue ravaged her mouth. By the time he finished with the final girl, his cock was rock hard, precum leaking from the glands. Next, he had each of them kneel and, starting with the twelfth girl, had each of them take his cock into their mouths. He only allowed them ten seconds or so, just long enough to confirm that each performed this service a little differently, and the variety was as interesting and exciting as had been the kissing. - o - At the top of the basement stairs, her gun drawn and ready, Clarice Starling listened for a moment longer before silently opening the door and stepping into the hallway. Crouching in the darkness, looking both ways, she headed to the left and sensed rather than heard her husband follow out the basement door and head right. Sixty seconds earlier, they had heard the thunder of footsteps coming down from the second floor, then the sounds of doors closing. At the moment she had heard the sound of a car's engine turning over, she had left the basement and moved quickly to the door leading to the garage. Peering out the small windows in the garage door, she saw the headlights turn left at the end of the cul-de-sac. Once it was safe, she punched the garage door opener and climbed into Gene's rental car. Keeping her headlights off, she eased the car down the driveway and out to the main road, turning left and speeding down the two-lane road to catch up with the caravan. Gene finished checking the house and found, as expected, that Jessica and Rhett were gone. He was tremendously glad that earlier in the day they had sent little Katie to her Grandparents in the east, escorted by a female agent from the Kansas City office of the FBI. Taking the steps three at a time, he ran downstairs to the first floor and then into the basement. Dialing the number of Clarice's cellular phone, he had to wait only one ring before he heard her voice. "Gene?' "Yeah, hon.' "I'm heading west on Route134, I think it is. Three BMWs and a panel van.' "They've got them,' he said, stating the obvious. "At least they're still alive. Shit, Gene, why didn't we anticipate this?' "It won't help, Clarice, to worry about that now.' "Yeah, I know... Okay, Gene, they're taking a right up ahead... wait a second... shit, it's impossible to see the street sign without my lights on.' "That's OK, they're probably heading to Poulsen's house. I'll keep this line open and use the other line to reach Washington, then the team flyin up from Dallas.' "Got it, Gene.' - o - Jessica Graham had never felt so frightened or defenseless. In the darkness of the van, she could see only the vague shape of Rhett propped up against the other side. He'd been stuck by one of the men who had burst into their bedroom, and her last sight of him, just before they'd been shoved into the back of this van, had added to her fear. His face was ghastly white, eyes dull and unfocused, and a long trail of blood led from his hairline, where he'd been hit with the butt of the gun, down the side of his face and neck. She told herself that there was hope. Clarice and Gene had not been discovered in the basement, and she knew they were quite capable people. This was their thing... why the two carried guns and knew how to use them. But each time she tried to take strength in this thought her analytical mind insisted on bringing up the more possible fates that awaited them. Sitting awkwardly with her hands cuffed behind her, she couldn't stop thinking about how she looked, how little coverage her summer-weight nightgown provided. It didn't help that the abductors had openly fondled her tits and ass while bringing her out to the van. In the fight of her choosing, the arena of law, she would have felt expertly prepared, but in this world... - o - Poulsen pulled his cock from the vice-like cunt of the red-head, the plop made by his withdrawal audible over the strains of music in the basement room, and moved behind the next girl. All of the girls were lined up facing the wall, bent at the waist, arms extended to brace themselves against the wall. The red-head smiled as she stepped off the wooden box that Poulsen had used to bring her sex to the level of his cock, and pushed it down to the next girl. She was happy that she'd honored the man by cuming so quickly, after less than a dozen strokes of her father-in-law's magnificent cock. Poulsen's hands played over the next girl's ass. This one possessed a small, exceedingly firm ass and narrow, boy-like hips. His huge cock, slick from the juices of the previous girls, looked impossible large in comparison to the fifteen year-old's slender body. Positioning his cock beneath her tight ass cheeks, he found her slit and forced his cock inside. "Ohhhh,' moaned the girl and he worked a few inches inside. Holding onto her narrow hips, he lunged forward and up, the power of his thrust driving the girl up, onto her toes and then higher, before she lost her balance and fell back, impaling herself on the huge shaft. The girl's cry echoed off the walls of the basement. This one would take a while before her tight cunt could accommodate the huge shaft, but within two minutes she too sprinkled Poulsen's cock with her discharge. - o - Even though it was well after midnight in Washington, Myers' phone call found Louis Freeh still in his office. Updating him on the abduction of the Graham couple took less than a minute. "First thing, Gene, consider yourself reactivated, as of now,' said the Bureau chief. "You and Starling did well by not forcing the action when you were outnumbered and the opponents held the higher ground.' "Second, and this comes directly from the President, our goal for the remainder of this operation is to put things right, but to do it quietly, and completely. He agreed immediately with my and Reno's recommendation that it would hurt our country if Dole's part in this became public, and that it would be dicey if the press started asking a lot of questions about the CIA's role in the creation of this drug.' "Understood, sir,' said Myers, but he really didn't. "Not yet you don't,' said Freeh, the rebuke mild but clear. "This assault on our country will be stopped, and any record of it erased. Completely.' Gene felt a chill down his spine. "The team coming up from Dallas are, shall we say, professional erasers. You take charge of their deployment and then just get out of the way. Do you understand?' "No sir,' he said. "What about the Grahams? Mike O'Brien and his nun friend? Poulsen's sons, and the other members of his group?' "If it's possible to save the Grahams, it should be attempted. But we can't have a protracted hostage situation. It needs to be finished tonight. You've got O'Brien stashed away, and we can decide what to do about him later. As for the other members of Poulsen's team, well, it appears that somebody beat us to it. Sheriff Grant and Walter Abbott were found shot to death earlier this evening. Very suspicious circumstances. Reynolds and his wife, and Collins, dead. The only missing member of that group is Lisa Quinn. In any case, that problem appears solved.' "Shit,' said Myers. "Hold on, Gene... One of my people informs me that the team has landed in Topeka, and the chopper will be redirected to---hold on... It will land on the street directly in front of the Graham home. Got that, Myers?' "Got it, sir.' - o - Poulsen stroked his cock back and forth in the very tight cunt of the seventeen year-old blond, the last of the twelve girls in the line. Hearing the commotion from outside, knowing his sons would need him upstairs, he relaxed his control and felt his balls tighten. "Take it, slut,' he repeated as his cum blasted forth into the girl's fertile sex. - o - Clarice Starling heard the exchange between Gene and Freeh over the open line of her cellular phone. The caravan she was following turned into a long driveway, and she pulled the Ford sedan onto the shoulder of the road. "This is America?' she asked rhetorically, as she opened the case on the passenger seat, and retrieved a long circular metallic tube. "You heard that, huh?' she heard from Gene over the phone. She pulled her gun from the holster on her hip and screwed the silencer in place. "Yeah. Bizarre. Somebody must be really scared. Gene, I'm parked on the road in front of Poulsen's ranch. The big house is about 300 yards away, and they're unloading Jessica and Rhett now... taking them inside.' "Clarice,' he said, his voice soft. "This SWAT team will be here in twenty minutes, and to Poulsen's in thirty. Stay in the car, Clarice, and wait for the pros.' "No, Gene. And I won't make their rescue a secondary objective.' "Clarice, please...' he said but heard the car door close, and knew he had lost her. - o - Jessica sat on the bed, trying not to tremble... trying not to stare at the gun pointing in her direction, or to think about where they'd taken Rhett... what was happening to him... what would become of them. The man in the bedroom guarding her was young, maybe twenty she figured. The contemptuous set of his mouth, and the arrogance with which the clear blue eyes overtly examined her barely-covered body, made her tremble even more. He'd removed her handcuffs, but only after running his hands over her body, snorting contemptuously as he did. It wouldn't work, her usual trick. Poulsen's sons were all young and possessed, she was sure, terrific bodies. Imaging her guard naked could not restore her courage and confidence and would likely accomplish the opposite. "You've got to find something!' she shouted to herself. She forced herself to think back over everything she knew about Poulsen and his sons, everything Mike O'Brien had said... the mothers had been drugged and programmed by Poulsen many years before--and what was it O'Brien had said?---that he'd been ordered by Poulsen to find wives ("Human incubators' was the term the psychologist had used) for his sons. Maybe that was something she could use. Poulsen and his sons were used to dealing with women and girls who were rendered pliant and submissive by the drugs. This may be the only way they could handle women. They were bigger than she, stronger, and they had the guns. But they were cowards, hiding behind their drugs. Cowards. Then the door opened, and it walked a tall, distinguished looking man and she knew immediately that he was the younger man's father. This was Dr. Richard Poulsen, she was sure. "Strip,' he said. She was frightened by his terse command, but she forced herself to sit up straight and look him in the eye. "Fuck you.' His eyes clouded over and his lips pursed in anger. He smiled though, a cruel smile, and walked over to the bed. She was expecting it, but when his hand crashed against the side of her face she felt the pain explode in her brain. But as quickly as she could manage it, she sat back up and looked directly into Poulsen's eyes. "If I have to ask you a second time, my son will blow off one of your kneecaps.' Jessica rose to her feet and pulled the nightgown over her head and tossed in onto the bed. Then her eyes were back on Poulsen's. "Hands behind your head,' he barked and she shrugged before complying. She knew that her full breasts were thrust forward in this position, and that her nipples were stiff from the coolness of the early morning. But she also knew that this was part of Poulsen's game of intimidation, trying to make her feel small and powerless. Even with her eyes on Poulsen's, she could sense that his son was ogling her body. "Do you know how to deal with a woman who isn't drugged? You and your coward sons?' Poulsen knew how to intimidate. Separate the prisoners so they can't draw strength from one another.. strip them of their clothes so they feel defenseless. This wasn't quite working, but he knew her resistance would evaporate if he had the daughter to threaten, or did something with the husband. To emphasize her vulnerability he grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed until she cried out. "Listen you fuckin' cunt. You have two options,' he said, holding onto her breast. "One, we'll bring you into the other room and you can watch while each of my twelve sons fucks your husband. And that will be just for starters.' He paused and said to the boy, "Joseph, show this cunt what her husband has coming to him.' Poulsen released his painful grip of her breast and moved behind her. The son stepped in front of her and lowered his pants to his ankles, then grinned at her while he stroked his cock. She looked away, but Poulsen's hand gripped her hair and forced her head down, so she had to watch as the cock grew in the son's hand. Jessa's eyes teared as she watched the cock thicken and lengthen, until the shaft was fully hard. It was the biggest cock she had ever seen. Oh, not Rhett... "Oh, my,' she heard in her ear. Jessica felt the tears roll down her cheeks, then cried out as Poulsen's arms circled her body and gripped her breasts. "Do you think Rhett can take that cock up his ass, slut? What'll be left of your husband when all my sons finish reaming his butt-hole? "I asked you a question, whore!' "I... I don't want that... I...' She took a deep breath when the hands released their painful grip on her breasts. His hands were now caressing her breasts very gently, then also the mound just above the lips of her sex. The fingers moved in small circles, pressing the mound over her clit, forcing an unwanted response, and the caresses continued as he spoke. "I don't want that either,' he said, the voice in her ear soft. "And you have a second option, my dear. You can tell me all you know about my little operation here in Stepford, and how you found out. One lie and my boys will rape your husband before your eyes, and when they're done, they'll put him out of his misery.' Ten minutes later, Poulsen entered another room and repeated the threats with the groggy Rhett Graham, and found his resistance fade away when he was given the alternatives of talking or watching his wife get raped by his sons. He couldn't know that this very minute, in the room across the hall, his wife was paying for her insolence. Just before he left, Poulsen shoved the woman face down on the bed and held her there while his son mounted her, driving his huge cock into her cunt from the rear. The bitch would get quite a pounding, he knew. The two stories offered by the frightened couple, independently, were identical. That was the good news. He now knew what his enemies knew. The operation was in deep trouble, probably lost, but it was also a fact that almost all of the possible witnesses were dead. He'd send three of his boys to Lawrence, to the hotel where the Graham's told him Mike O'Brien was hiding, and eliminate that loose end. He very much wanted to go himself on that job, to see his former aide's eyes as he choked the life out of the traitor. But this would have to be delegated. In the tedious legal system of his adopted country, he knew that he'd have an excellent chance. His record was spotless, and even if the CIA records of his work there were opened, they would contain no evidence of his real work. In fact, the progress he had made on defending chemical weapons for the Agency would bolster his case. He should probably send his sons away, as the authorities might be able to link one or more of them to the carnage of this night. As much as he hated the thought of sending them back to their mothers, those handy identities were real and completely untraceable to him. And the girls... well, he could keep those sluts occupied until it was safe to bring back his sons. - o - Clarice had circled the house once, and was now in position near the garage in front. Her reconnaissance had uncovered a few valuable facts, the most important of which was that Poulsen had not assigned any guards. "Okay,' she said to herself, "He must not know about us.' She had counted eight men, maybe nine, glancing through the windows as she circled the house. She wasn't sure how many there really were, because all of his sons looked so much alike, and if they moved from room to room she could have counted some twice, and missed others altogether. Through a small opening in one bedroom's drapes, she'd seen Rhett Graham in a room in the back, one armed man with him. He was lying on the bed, clearly injured. She hadn't seen Poulsen, or Jessica Graham, but several other rooms had the drapes closed tight. "I've got to assume that all twelve sons are inside,' she thought to herself, "and with Poulsen that makes thirteen.' She heard them before she saw them, not the exact words but the conversational exchange and the short harsh laugh that followed, then the front door closing. Creeping forward to the edge of the garage, she saw the back-lit forms of three men coming up the walkway toward the driveway. She'd shot and killed once before, but that time in the basement of the psychopath "Buffalo Bill' she was under an extreme and obvious threat to her life. It was a frequent joke between the cadets at the FBI Academy years before, that you had to give the bad guy the opportunity to shoot first---Dick Tracy did, and it was only fair. "Not this time,' she said to herself. Forcing herself to take deep, regular breaths, ignoring the hammering of her heart, she backed toward the vehicles until she was in the right spot, shielded from the outdoor lights by the windowless cargo van parked to her left. Bracing her legs, she brought the gun up in both hands, waiting for the trio to round the corner of the garage, where they would be somewhat shielded from the main house. Her mind calculated all of this without conscious effort, knowing that noise was her enemy and surprise her only ally. The three forms came into view, walking toward her now, not seeing anything but the cars littered along the expansive driveway. "I can't believe ol' Mikey would do this,' said one. "Maybe we can ask the fucker---' Squeezing off her first shot, the dull splitting sound reaching her ears but not theirs twenty feet away, she shifted her aim to the right, knowing without having to watch that her first target had been hit square in the face, and would fall straight back. The second man was slowing when her second bullet crashed through the bridge of his nose. He too would be dead before his body reached the ground. The third target had just enough time to register that something had happened, and to turn his head in the direction of his brothers, presenting Starling with his profile, the mouth open in silent shock. Her third bullet struck his head just above the ear, scrambling his brains just as thoroughly as the first two. Starling paused for several long moments, listening for any sign of alarm from inside the house. Hearing nothing, she set her gun softly down on the hood of a BMW, and pulled the corpses, one by one, into the shadows. - o - The noisy chopper came to a rest in the middle of the circular end of the cul-de-sac, and Gene watched as six men came out, bent slightly at the waist as they ran under the blades toward the light of the open garage. He had rifled through the Graham's belongings until he had found the keys to Jessica's Saab and Rhett's Lexus sedan. "Let's do it,' said the coal black man leading the group, and Gene recognized his gruff voice as belonging to the Marine major he had spoken to several times en route from Dallas. He and the other men were all dressed in black, and their thick padding suggested that each was protected by bullet-proof vests. "We've got one complication,' said Gene as he and the six Marines, most armed with deadly looking machine guns, piled into the cars. "Just one?' said the Major. "Then this job'll be a fuckin' breeze.' - o - Poulsen gathered his sons in the living room, looking at the nine eager faces with pride and a deep feeling of regret, wondering how long it would be before he would see them again. He had waited until the last two returned from the basement where they'd gone to shackle the Graham's to the wall, before beginning. "No father could be prouder of his sons,' he began, his sons struck by the powerful emotion in his voice. - o - Starling was surprised when she counted ten men sitting around the well-lit living room, hoping against her better judgment that they'd left Rhett and Jessica unguarded in the back bedrooms, were she'd have a chance at rescuing them. But when she returned to the corner bedroom where she'd seen Rhett not ten minutes ago, he and his guard were gone. Moving silently, she circled the back of the house and came to a door. She tried the knob but found it locked. Looking through the windows of the door, he saw a partly lit hallway that dead-ended on another hallway which she figured must extend most of the length of the house. To her left, the hall would lead to the bedrooms, and to the right to the living areas where Poulsen and his sons were gathered. It took her a moment to figure out what to do. If she could remove one of the six panes of glass, she could reach in and unlock the door from the inside. She checked her pockets hurriedly, but found nothing she could use to remove the strips of wood keeping the glass in place. No knife, no file, nothing. Thinking desperately, she was almost ready to try the garage for something that would do the job when it occurred to her. At her belt were the speed loaders for her automatic, and she pulled off the case and examined the cartridge the held eight rounds, running her thumb along the sharp edge of the base. Setting her gun on the ground, holding her breath, praying that she wouldn't make any noise that would reach Poulsen and his sons, she set to work gently inserting the metal edge between the wood edging and the glass, prying to widen the gap. Her heart came into her throat when the huge hand grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth and pulling her back away from the door. Instinctively, she executed the maneuver that she had practiced so often, driving her elbow back into her attacker, stomping backwards with her heel into the shin. An expulsion of breath was followed by a barely perceptible loosening of his grip, just enough for her to spin free of his hold. Moving into a crouch, she was just about to go for a hand strike to the man's crotch when she heard the word. "A friend, Agent Starling.' She froze, focusing her eyes on the black face of the large man in front of her, seeing his finger come up over his lips in a signal for quiet. "Major Jefferson, ma'am,' he said. "My men are in position around the perimeter. How many inside? Targets first, civilians next.' "Ten... targets, all in the living room at the moment,' she said quickly. "I got three of them.' "Yes, ma'am,' he said and she saw the white teeth suddenly appear in the blackness of his broad face. "That was nice shootin'. Civilians?' "Two. Used to be in the back bedrooms but they've been moved. I don't know where.' Clarice watched as he spoke quietly into his headset, relaying her information to his men. "We go in ten seconds from right... now.' It was only after the Major had moved toward the door that she realized that another man was with them, this one armed with a machine gun. As the Major counted quietly down from ten, the other man took a position directly in front of the door, his gun only inches from the lock. She expected the noise, but was still shaken all the same when the gun erupted in the soldier's hands. The wood around the lock splintered into hundreds of pieces and the two men rushed through the feeble door and inside. The racket of automatic gunfire was soon everywhere, and Starling retrieved her gun and walked unsteadily into the house. It was murder, thought Myers, watching as each body was riddled with bullets. He'd followed the team entering through the front door, and by the time he'd reached the living room, all three teams had converged there and opened fire without a single word of warning. The carnage was completed inside ten seconds, and in the silence that followed Gene saw the bodies lying everywhere, limbs askew, faces blown apart, the plush white carpet now soaked in the blood of Poulsen and his sons. Through the fog in this brain, he heard the Major's sharp orders and saw the soldiers jog in different directions. Shaking his head, he stared for several more moments at the once-handsome faces of the dead boys grotesquely littering the floor. Then he turned his head and saw his wife, the expression on her unnaturally pale face reflecting the horror of the scene. He walked to her and took her into his arms, then led her outside, where the sickening stench of cordite and death wouldn't be so oppressive. The major found them a few minutes later, leading the Graham's out the side door so they wouldn't see the gruesome scene in the living room. Dressed in robes that the soldiers had found someplace, Jessica and Rhett hugged the FBI agents, the silent embraces serving to communicate their thanks. "Agent Myers, sir,' said the Major after a moment. Gene let go of Jessica, smiled into her face, and turned toward the soldier. "I think you better follow me, sir,' he said, and Gene was surprised at the look of uncertainty on the normally cock-sure face of the man. He followed him down the stairs that led to the basement, and then into the room in the corner. Three black soldiers, looking every bit as uncomfortable as their Major, held their guns pointing vaguely in the direction of the corner, where Gene saw the dozen naked girls huddled together. "Oh, shit,' he breathed, looking for someplace else to fix his eyes other than the girls, forcing himself to think. "My orders---' started the major, his voice lacking the confident swagger of before. "Your orders,' interrupted Gene, spitting his word, "are shit, Major!' He turned to the man and stepped directly into his face. "Send two of your men upstairs to find these girls clothes. Then find me a phone. Do it Now, Major!' The combat veteran hesitated only a moment before he nodded, turned and snapped his fingers at one soldier who followed him out of the room. Mike O'Brien woke abruptly when the phone rang not two feet from his head. He reached it before the second ring, hoping that the shrill sound wouldn't wake Megan. But as he pulled his legs out of the covers and onto the floor so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, he could feel her hand on his back. "Hello,' he said into the phone. Megan pulled herself up to the top of the bed, glancing at the clock on the bedside stand, wondering who would be calling at this hour. She found the sheet at her waist and pulled it up to cover her naked breasts. "Yeah,' she heard Mike say, "that can be done quite easily... uh huh... an hour at the latest. Poulsen's place... yeah, I know the way.' Mike hung up the phone and turned on the light. Rising to his feet, he turned and was about to explain the phone call from Gene Myers when he stopped, his heart fluttering at the sight of her rumpled strawberry blond hair, the sleepy look in her big blue eyes, and the modest pose with the sheet pulled up so that it covered most of her breasts. Despite the fact that they'd worn each other out ever since they checked in, he experienced once again the love and desire that she made him feel, the strong impulse to jump back into bed and dive under that sheet. Instead, he smiled at her. "We've got to get dressed, Meg. They need my services back in Stepford.' She had seen the look on his face, and could easily guess that his thoughts mirrored hers. Tossing the sheet aside, she rolled out of bed and came into his arms, feeling his hands on her ass and they kissed, and his cock stiffen against her thigh. "Tell you what, lover,' she said, reaching between them to touch his growing manhood, "if you'll drive I'll suck you off on the way.' The Stepford Wives - Chapter Seventeen Friday, September 22 4:45 p.m. It had taken some time to feel this way, but Jessica was now glad they had taken Gene and Clarice up on their offer to spend a few weeks away from Stepford, here at Gene's New Orleans home. The Victorian was beautiful, filled with ornate period detail, down to the large four-poster bed that dominated the first floor guest room that she and Rhett used. She had been in New Orleans only once, three years ago, to depose a witness for a trial. But she'd flown in the night before, and back home the next afternoon, and had seen very little of the sights. She was looking forward tonight's reunion with Clarice and Gene, who were flying down from Washington for the weekend. The first few days here had been kind of strange, the moody uneasiness both were feeling made it difficult to enjoy their long walks throughout the beautiful city. But that ended last night, and she smiled at the recollection of Rhett joining her under the huge elm in the back yard, the silly grin on his face was the first sign of joy she'd seen in him since that awful night. He had in his right hand a joint, and they'd smoked it in a comfortable silence, holding hands, enjoying the warm evening and each other's company. At dusk, on the way to dinner, walking down the tree-lined streets, Jessica had giggled as they came up to an old cemetery next to a church, pulling Rhett behind her as she took the detour into the graveyard and between the large, ghostly tombs. Pushing him up against one tomb, out of sight from the sidewalk, she put her hands on his chest and kissed him, then bit his lower lip playfully. Her mouth at his ear she whispered, "Do you think if we fucked here in the graveyard, the ghosts would mind?' She felt his body stiffen. "Jess, honey, this isn't some Anne Rice novel... people might come.' "Exactly,' she said, then giggled at her bad pun, and lowered one hand to his cock, finding it mostly soft beneath his slacks. "All the way here,' she whispered, "I've been thinking about how delicious your cock would taste... should I do that... take this cock out of it's prison and suck it?' She felt his head move from side to side and knew that he was quite nervous, checking for signs of life in the parsonage on one side of the cemetery and the church on the other side. She could also feel his cock responding to her touch, and hoped that his excitement would overcome his reluctance. "I'll bet most of these dead folks have never seen a woman take a man's cock into her mouth. The ghosts would get a real thrill watching us... watching me suck you off, Rhett.' "I don't know, Jess,' he said, then she heard him swallow. "But I guess... they would like it.' She kissed him once more before kneeling in front of him and unzipping his pants. Feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, she took his cock into her mouth and sucked him to hardness. Both of them giggled frequently as she licked and sucked his cock, saying silly things to one another, bad jokes about their eerie local. When, finally, he exploded into her mouth, Jessa knew that they'd be all right. After a delicious dinner at the Commander's Palace, their walk home had taken a different path, but this time it was Rhett who pulled Jessa off the sidewalk and into a small park. Bent over the back of a park bench, she had two wonderful orgasms before Rhett's cock exploded in her pulsating core. After a second joint, feeling as relaxed as she had in months, they had found Rhett's collection of CD's and listened to music. On the floor of the family room they cuddled together, his cock inside her but unmoving, talking sometimes, kissing, joking, letting the music and their closeness soothe their souls. "Do you really think Gene wants to fuck you?' he'd said last night, his eyes teasing. "Sure he does,' she said, "but he's more than a little smitten with Clarice, honey, and I don't think he's the type that goes for what you're thinking.' "Hmmm... well, then, Clarice is the key.' She laughed, rolling the two of them over until she was on top, rocking slowly up and down on his cock, thinking that, yes, she would like to fuck Gene Myers. As Rhett's hands came to her breasts, stroking them gently, teasing the hard nubs, she imagined how Gene's huge hands would feel on her breasts and her ass. - o - Gene and Clarice were surprised to be met at the gate by the limo driver holding up the sign with their names on it. Even a little embarrassed, as the driver was a very attractive black woman, her outfit a cross between a formal morning suit, complete with the long tails in back, and a risqué dancer, the bodice under her jacket cut low to display a generous portion of her swelling breasts. Hot pants, black fishnet stockings and three-inch heels completed the eye-catching outfit. Following the woman down the concourse, Clarice looked over at Gene and smiled at his sheepish expression. But she also noticed that his eyes didn't miss the swaying ass of the woman, or the long shapely legs. "Rhett set this up, you figure? To thank us for Clinton's call?' They had arranged for Janet Reno to ask the grateful president to call the CEO of Rhett's company, to help grease the skids for this unscheduled vacation. Rhett had been both pleased and surprised by the call from the CEO the next day, who told him that the president had commended him for his bravery and service. The man had offered his own thanks, "for whatever the fuck you did, Rhett,' then ordered him to take the next two weeks off. "Could be,' said Gene, "but my money would be on Jessica... she's a sassy little thing.' Clarice smiled, then chuckled. "It won't be just your money on Jessa if I don't watch you like a hawk.' Gene pretended to be hurt by her allusion but didn't quite pull it off. Smiling at her as they approached the stretch limo, he whistled the tune, "I've only got eyes for you.' Jessa and Rhett were sitting in the rocking chairs on the deep front porch when the limo slowed along the curb in front of the house. Grinning, they got up and walked down the stairs toward the sidewalk and the impossibly long limo. The sexy driver they had hired got out and smiled at them as she circled the car to open the rear door. "Hey, Rhett,' said Gene after stepping out. Shaking his hand warmly, he said, "Are you the rascal responsible for this?' Rhett laughed and pointed with his thumb at Jessica. Gene grinned and took her into his arms, lifting her up off the ground in an embrace that forced Jessa to wrap her arms around his neck. On impulse, she kissed him, making it harder and much wetter than a normal greeting between friends. She was thrilled when he kissed her back before finally breaking it and setting her down, his face slightly colored. "Do you think we should worry?' Jessica and Gene turned at the sound of Clarice's voice to find she and Rhett with their arms around each other, smirks on their faces. "Nah, I don't think so,' said Rhett. "Look at them, they just don't---what's the phrase---fit together.' In her sandals Jessica was a foot shorter than Gene, and looked even smaller in comparison to his bulk. Rhett tightened his grip on Clarice and added, "you and I, on the other hand...' "I see what you mean,' she said, turning into him and giving him a kiss that rivaled the one between Jessica and her husband. Rhett broke it when he heard the limo driver clear her throat for attention. "Ah, yes, Angelica,' he said. "We won't be goin' to dinner until seven, so you're free 'till then.' He paused, his face taking on a lecherous grin, "unless you want to come inside, honey... and go upstairs?' She grinned back at him. "White boy like you, and a Yankee to boot. No sir. I'll see ya' at seven.' The four sets of eyes watched her hips sway as she navigated the limo and got inside. After hanging up his suit and stripping for his shower, Gene entered the spacious master bath just as Clarice was turning off the water. He leaned against the wall and watched, smiling, as his wife pulled aside the curtain and reached for a towel. Her hand found nothing on the hook where the towel should be and, wiping her eyes clear of water, she saw her grinning husband holding up the towel. "Allow me,' he said as she stepped onto the bath mat. Clarice glanced at his swelling cock and smiled. He started with her face, blotting off the water with the soft towel, then did her arms, her torso, moving down. She placed one foot on the edge of the tub as he knelt before her and dried one leg, then the other, the towel feeling very nice when he ran it gently over her crotch, the lips of her sex, and back through to her ass. When he rose and moved behind her, she saw that his thick cock was now fully erect. As he used the towel to dry and fluff her hair, she felt his cock pressed against her lower back. "Is that 'cause of me,' she said, teasing, "or are you thinking about that kiss with sassy Jessa?' He finished drying her back before responding with a flick of the towel on her ass. "Ow!' she cried, moving her foot down from the edge of the tub and her hand to her ass. He grabbed that wrist and then the other, holding both in one hand behind her back while he used his free hand the open the bathroom door. "It might have been Jessa's kiss that gave me this condition,' he said, bending her over the edge of their bed. "But she's not the one who's gonna take care of it.' Clarice smiled as she felt his thick cock slide around in the wetness of her sex before entering her fully, the familiar feeling of being plugged by him so exciting. Clarice found Jessa and Rhett in the backyard, lounging under the large elm. As she approached, she noticed that Rhett was lying on his back, staring up at the huge branches of the tree, chewing lazily of a piece of grass. Jessa was sitting with her back against the trunk of the tree, fiddling with something in her lap. "Can I make you a cocktail?' Clarice said. "Glass of wine?' Then she noticed what Jessa was doing, packing some green leafy stuff---pot, she decided---into an ornate wooden pipe. She looked up at Clarice somewhat sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind...' "No, not at all, Jessa,' said Clarice, lowering herself to the ground. Rhett rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his elbow, still chewing the stalk of grass. His eyes, she noticed, took in her bare legs before settling on her face. The look caused her to recall the exciting kiss they had shared earlier, then the fuck she had just finished with Gene. "You look different, Clarice,' he said, "more relaxed.' "Oh?' she said, trying to hide a blush. "Coming here to N'Orleans,' she tried, "this house... it does help put the pressures of work behind you.' "This'll help even more,' said Jessa, holding up the pipe. "Will you join us?' "My...' Clarice began, "I haven't gotten high since college... You can probably guess that it's not a practice looked on with favor at the Bureau... but... what the hell.' Rhett lit pipe while Jessa studied Clarice. "She does look different, Rhett... what is it? Hmmm.' Rhett passed the pipe on to Clarice, who busied herself with taking as little as possible, not wanting the first smoke in her lungs in ten years to cause her to cough. Holding the smoke in her lungs, she passed it on to Jessa. She was doing just fine until Rhett exhaled and said: "I know what it is... Clarice has that well-fucked look.' Clarice coughed out the smoke and alternated between laughing and coughing, not doing very well at either. She was glad when Jessa changed the direction of the conversation, beginning a long diatribe about how unfair it was that pot was illegal while alcohol and cigarettes, both worse for one's heath, were not. She paused only to take her turn with the pipe. As she was building up steam, ranting now, Clarice looked to Rhett and saw the humor in his face at his wife's passionate oratory, and they both broke out in laughter. Jessa pretended to be hurt, but finally joined them. This was how Gene found them, the three sprawled under the elm, laughing until their sides hurt. "I'd forgotten how horny pot makes me,' Clarice said, then giggled. The two couples were in the back of the limo, sitting facing each other. They were supposed to be seeing the sights of N'Orleans, but were instead enjoying each other's company. "Horny and uninhibited,' said Gene, patting Clarice's thigh, "and that's the way I like my women.' Jessa waited until the other woman left the restroom before bringing up the topic with Clarice. "Um, Clarice, there's something I want to ask you, and it's a little embarrassing...' "Yes, Jessa?' When Clarice saw the younger woman blush it dawned on her where the sexual tension of the evening might lead. "Well, it's about Gene and Rhett...' "What do you think has happened to the ladies?' said Gene, sitting in the living room, sipping a cognac as he and Rhett talked. It had been fifteen minutes since they'd returned from the restaurant and excused the limo driver. "If I know Jessa, she's probably taken Clarice off to get her high.' "I can think of worse things,' he said, grinning, then, "Holy shit!' Clarice and Jessa came into the room, each dressed in very skimpy, sexy lingerie. Gene was surprised when his wife sashayed over to where Rhett was sitting and sat down next to him. He didn't have time to register what this meant before Jessa, her stiff nipples showing over the top of her half-bra, sat in his lap, her knees on either side of him. "Hi, Gene,' she said, then brushed her lips against his. She bit playfully at his lips before finally kissing him fully. She felt his hands tentatively on her back, then he was returning the kiss, his tongue sliding over hers, exploring her mouth. His huge hands slid down her back and cupped her ass, pulling her tighter into him. When they broke the kiss his mouth came to her ear. "Do you always get what you want, Jessa?' She pulled back and smiled into his broad face, seeing in his eyes, the set of his lips and rumpled hair the teddy-bear sexiness that had first attracted her to him. She cocked her head to one side and grinned at him. "Not always,' she said. "This'll be a test, 'cause I want you real bad.' Tucking her head into his shoulder, she inhaled the wonderfully male scent of him, then spoke into his ear. "I want to feel your hands on me, your fingers inside me... your cock in my mouth... your tongue... I desperately want to feel every part of you, Gene Myers.' She rose on her knees and fed him a breast. While he sucked she undid the top buttons of his shirt, sliding her hands inside to find his nipples. But it was still too cramped for her comfort so she pulled the shirt apart, sending the remaining buttons flying. "Oh, God, Gene,' she said, feeling his fingers probing between her legs from the back, working under her panties and into her steaming sex. The thick digit slid deep inside her, then out as his fingers found the snap and opened her panties. "Ohhhh,' she moaned as two thick fingers entered her, fucking back and forth in her sex, rubbing against her sensitive clit. His teeth were gently chewing on her nipple, but he lost his hold on the thick nub when she pushed herself down, forcing his fingers even deeper in her sex. "Hmmm... I guess you like that,' he said, watching as she hunched up and down on his hand. "Jesus Christ!' thought Gene as he felt her cunt spasm around his finger. He saw the pleasure reflected in her face, the lips trembling just so, curving into a smile as they did. This was only the third woman he'd ever had sex with, after his late wife and Clarice, and he'd never thought it possible that someone could or would reach her climax this quickly. As she came down he hugged her to his chest as she fell back into his lap. His fingers were still stuck way up inside her, and he could feel the slick wetness of her tight channel. Looking over her shoulder, he saw his wife on the other sofa, her hands on the back of Rhett's head, which was buried in her lap. He caught her eye and smiled at her, then felt Jessa moving in his lap. She kissed his neck then whispered in his ear, "That's one, Gene. Nine more and I'll think about giving you back to Clarice.' She felt his face break into a grin, then his mouth at her ear. "You better slow down, Jessa, or we'll hit number ten and you'll be back sleeping with Rhett tonight.' - o - Jessa felt the huge hands on her waist relax, and she fell back into his lap, once again impaled on his extraordinary cock. It had been so incredibly sexy how he had lifted her effortlessly after she had finished cuming on his fingers, standing her in front of him, his hungry eyes on her body while he stripped off his pants, throwing the clothing against the wall. Then those huge hands were on her again, turning her, lifting her back into his lap. The movements were so sure and adept, one arm across her body, holding her against his massive chest while the other hand went between her thighs, moving his cock into position at her sex. Then the arm relaxed and she groaned as his very thick cock filled her sex. She helped a little, but it was mostly Gene picking her up and dropping her back, fucking her on his cock. And it was thrilling to be facing Rhett and Clarice, not ten feet away, watching Rhett's hips rock up and down. He was driving his cock into Clarice, her slender but muscular legs wrapped around his back. Watching them kiss passionately, she regretted only that Gene couldn't do the same with her. Gene felt his balls tighten, and knew his release was imminent. Jessa's pussy felt incredible to him, but it was watching his wife and Rhett fuck that excited him even more, sending him over the edge. As he quickened his pace, moving Jessa quickly up and down on his erupting cock, he heard her cry out and felt her effusion wet his cock and balls. - o - Rhett finished brushing his teeth and entered the master bedroom, still feeling the pleasant effects of the pot they had smoked, to find it dimly lit with candles. After the bright lights of the bathroom, it took his eyes a moment to adjust. The naked form of Clarice Starling was on the center of the king-sized bed, face down, her hands extended up to the headboard. It was only after he climbed on the bed that he noticed that her wrists were cuffed, and that the long chain connecting the two handcuffs was threaded through the slats of the headboard. "Hi, there,' he said after kissing her neck and lowering his body onto hers, nestling his hardening cock between the cheeks of her ass. "Mmmm... Can I trust you?' she said. "No.' He felt her silent laugh, then kissed her neck, and nibbled on her ear. "You'll take advantage of me, defenseless like I am?' "Uh huh,' he said. Both could feel his cock stiffen where it was, trapped between the cheeks of her ass. Rhett felt her shift under him, and he moved more of his weight to his elbows. Her legs parted, and he worked his cock between her firm cheeks. "Oh!' she said when his cock came up against her anus. "Maybe I should call for my husband?' "My guess is, he's a little busy right now.' He chewed on the soft flesh of her neck before continuing, "besides, he'd bring Jessa up with him, and I'd have to share you with her.' "Oh?' Her bit her again, and pressed his cock up against her anus. "Uh huh... and if you think I'm gonna take advantage of your situation, she'd be even worse.' "Oh? Do tell.' He ignored her and slid down her body, biting her playfully as he went, until he directly over her ass. After kissing and biting her cheeks, he slid his tongue into the crack, flicking the tip back and forth in the crevice. Clarice moaned as his tongue approached her rosette, pulling her knees up a bit to spread herself for him, hoping he'd lick her there. In the shower ten minutes earlier, they had taken turns washing each other, and Rhett had spent a goodly amount of time cleaning her ass, inside and out. It was the feeling of his soapy finger in her ass that got her thinking about him fucking her there. She didn't know if he did that, and rather than suggest it she decided to cuff herself face down on the bed, and see where things led. "Oh, yes,' she moaned as his fingers spread her ass and his flickering tongue found her rosette. Her entire body thrilled at the incredible sensations, and she pushed herself down against him, hungry for more contact. Rhett pulled his tongue away and slapped her five times, very quickly, on her ass. It was only after he had done this, and she had moaned and moved just a bit back up the bed, that he wondered if spanking her was such a good idea. He had to smile at the idea that popped into his head---this wasn't Jessa who enjoyed being spanked, and the sounds of the slaps might bring her husband up to investigate. He knew as soon as the thought passed that it was absurd, and smiled to himself at how much pure fun it was to learn the sexual tastes of a new lover. Bringing his tongue back to her rosette, he resumed flicking his tongue over the crinkled orifice, and could feel her body tremble in response. Moving his thumb down to her cunt, he found her clit and pressed the digit over the erect nub, not moving, just providing a firm pressure while his tongue probed into her ass. "Ohhhh,' moaned Clarice as his tongue stabbed into her ass, sending a jolt of pleasure to her clit and throughout her body. Just needing that little something to get over the top, she pushed down against him... "Shhh! Listen,' Jessa said. They were in the kitchen, dressed in robes, downing grilled cheese sandwiches that tasted to Jessa like the greatest thing she'd ever eaten. Maybe the joint they shared after the glorious living room fuck had something to do with it... Gene cocked his head to the side and heard the rhythmic slapping sound from upstairs, then looked back at Jessa and raised his eyebrows into a question. "What do you think, Jess... should I run upstairs and rescue my poor, defenseless, wife, delicate creature that she is, from that brutish husband of yours?' She smiled at him. "Defenseless? Clarice? How do we know it's not my poor hubby who needs rescue?' She grinned at her next thought. He saw the grin, and guessed what was behind it. Downing the last of his sandwich, he put their two plates in the sink before holding her hand in his. "Let's go see,' he said, his grin matching hers. The spanking had stopped, and by the time they were right outside the door to the master bedroom, all they could hear were groans and muffled words. "Open it a crack,' Jessa heard whispered in her ear. She tried the knob, and pushed the door open an inch, then another. Rhett drove his cock again into her spongy ass, and heard the woman under him moan with pleasure. Sliding his cock back and forth in the tight passage, he lowered his mouth to her ear. "So, bitch, you want to call out?... get Gene and Jessa up here... isn't one cock enough for you? Or is it Jessa you want? Slurpin' at your cunt while I fuck your ass?' Absorbed in their activities, and facing away from the door, neither combatant could see that Gene and Jessa had entered the room, and stood not ten feet away from the foot of the bed. Standing behind her, Gene pulled the robe off of Jessa's shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then removed his own. Jessa felt the cock pressed against her back as she watched her husband fuck Clarice, then felt his hands reach around her body and caress her breasts. As one of his huge hands slid down her body and fingered her cunt, she found herself wondering if Gene would take her that way before the weekend was over. "Oh God... yes, Rhett,' cried Clarice, "fuck me, harder now... Harder!' Jessa's mouth fell open as she watched her husband pick up the pace of his thrusts. Gene's fingers were rubbing in small circles over her clit, and the other hand was pulling and twisting her nipples. "Ohhhh,' cried Clarice, "I'm cuminnnnnggg...' Jessa felt her own orgasm hit at the same time, and closed her mouth to keep from crying out. Standing there in Gene's arms, watching Rhett empty his cock into Clarice's ass, she trembled as the spasms washed over her. - o - It was strange, thought Rhett---strange and wonderful---to be spending so much time in her company, but not. Walking down the wide plankway hand-in-hand with Clarice after spending a few hours gambling on the elegant ship, he watched Gene and Jessa up ahead, his wife's arm around the large man's waist. It had been this way all weekend, Clarice and he a couple, talking intimately, exploring each other as new lovers do. Sleeping together, except for Saturday night, when the four of them fell asleep on the family room floor after an exhausting evening of sex. He had awaken later to find Jessa eating Clarice while Gene fucked her from the rear. His wife was as sexy and uninhibited as he'd ever seen her that night. When she noticed that he was awake she stopped the action and ordered everyone around like a Field Marshall. A few minutes later he was on his back on the floor, his greased cock buried to the hilt in Jessa's ass (she had decided she couldn't take Gene after several attempts earlier in the day). Jessa was lying back on top of him and Gene was kneeling between their two sets of legs, his cock easing back and forth in Jessa's stretched cunt. Clarice was straddling them as well, her hands on Gene's shoulders, lowering her pussy to Jessa's hungry mouth. It was very exciting, not just the sex, which was terrific, but the discovery and sharing with Clarice one another's backgrounds, dreams and hopes. He never believed it possible to love two woman at the same time, and even now he wasn't sure what exactly he felt for Clarice. She would be, he thought, a lifelong and magically wonderful friend. And he knew without having to ask her that Jessa had found a kindred spirit in Gene as well. He also knew that they had found here in N'Orleans, and with Clarice and Gene, the strength they needed to go back to Stepford and, with Katie, pull their lives back together. The Stepford Wives - Chapter Eighteen Late Fall, 1996 Boston Mark Sullivan pulled his Ford to the curb and waved to get Megan's attention. They'd been in Boston six weeks now, and it was four weeks since that simple ceremony at town hall, where the guy from the FBI's witness protection program acted as his best man and witness. Since he had to adopt a new name anyway, Mike O'Brien had taken Megan's last name, and the first name Mark. The Bureau had provided all the trappings of his new identity. He knew he was very fortunate to be given this second chance, and would not have been surprised to know that a heated debate within the FBI and Justice department had proceeded their decision to give him this new identity. Gene Myers had argued his case, pointing out that without his cooperation the RCA would have been discovered much too late, if at all. If they had continued to believe that Stepford was the singular, isolated use of the drug, they would have a constitutional crisis on their hands after Dole won the election. Also, Gene argued, his hypnosis sessions with each of the young girls found in Poulsen's basement made it possible to return the girls to their families, without fear that the story would leak from one of them. As she got into the car, he could tell from her wide smile that the meeting had gone well. "I start next term!' she said. "That's terrific,' he said, then kissed her. "I don't know, Megan... how it's going to feel being married to a minister.' "Yeah, right!' She grinned at him and said, "You seemed to do all right when I was a nun and Catholic, so I have a hard time believing that you wont be able to Get It Up when I'm a Unitarian or Congregational Minister. But can you believe it---Harvard Divinity School!' Pulling out into traffic, he only half-listened to her description of her meeting with the admissions director, hearing all of the enthusiasm if not the words. He had his own good news to share, but he'd wait until they were home to tell her that the procedure had been successful. The doctor who reversing his vasectomy last week, and checked his sperm count this morning, had said that the odds were better than 90% that he could father a child. As he swerved to avoid another driver and cursed, he realized there were only two things he missed about Kansas, and courteous drivers was one. The other was Sam Weeks. Putting aside all the depraved sex they had shared, he missed the camaraderie of having a really good male friend. Even if she wasn't totally a guy. He set the timer for the rice, then poured two glasses of the chilled California chardonney. With his job as a staff psychologist at Mass General not bringing in as much money as he was used to, it was a rare treat to spring for the lobsters for dinner, and the wine. He found Megan in the small living room of their two-bedroom apartment, and handed her the glass. "Oh, my,' she said as he sat next to her on the sofa, "celebrating my acceptance?' "Yep. That and my plumbing being fixed.' "Oh, really! The test results came back!' He took a swallow of wine and set the glass down, grinning at her. "Looks good, babe, and the doctor practically ordered me to try it out tonight.' Reaching over he undid the top button of her blouse, then the next. She took a sip of her wine, set it down, and turned toward him. Knowing how he liked to undress her, she let him do all the work removing her blouse and the lace bra. Then she stood up in front of him and let him unzip the side of her skirt, and pull that off. He smiled when the skirt came off and revealed the garter belt, stockings and sexy panties. He remembered the plain high-waisted cotton panties she used to wear as a nun, and it pleased him that she now enjoyed dressing sexier. He teased her about it, telling her he'd have to take a second job just to support her bills from Victoria's Secrets. "Maybe I should stay this way,' she said, bringing his hands up to her breasts, "throughout dinner, hmmm?' He liked this, too, how she initiated the action more and more, making her desires known, probing to understand his. He had wondered what she'd be like once she was free from the effects of the RCA, and there were differences. She was more aggressive and independent, and he liked that, especially since she'd lost none of her intense interest in all manners of sex. He wasn't sure how much to attribute to the absence of the drug, and how much was just the sexual growth of a woman who was still a virgin only four months before. He understood now why virginity was so valued in many cultures. It was tremendously exciting to participate in and help shape her sexual awakening. She insisted on trying everything, and relied heavily on him to tutor her as to the possibilities. "Okay, Meg... I'd like that,' he said, reaching for his wine. "But I'd be at such a disadvantage being fully clothed.' "I can take care of that.' Wearing only an apron now, Mike dropped the two lobsters into the boiling water and set the top back on. He washed his hands in the sink, his eyes on Megan sitting at the small table in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables for the salad. As his eyes took in her full breasts and the sexy lingerie below, he felt his cock stiffen yet again. He'd been almost constantly hard since she'd stripped him and made him don the apron, working next to one another, sipping wine, preparing their meal, brushing up against one another. Megan's eyes came up and met his, then dropped to the obvious bulge in his apron. She smiled. "Come here, babe,' she said, tossing the sliced mushrooms into the salad bowl. After he stepped over in her, the bulge level with her face, she pulled the apron up with one hand and held his ass with the other. "Oh, God,' he moaned as she pulling him toward her and sucked his cock inside her warm mouth. Her beautiful blue eyes were on his as she teased his cock with her tongue before taking him deep, until he could feel the back of her throat. Then she pulled her head off and smiled up at him. "I'd like a little appetizer before dinner,' she said, he smile turning wicked. Wetting her finger in her mouth before returning his cock to the warm, wet cavity. He groaned when he felt her finger force it's way into his ass, and within sixty seconds he was pumping a huge load of cum into her mouth. He watched as she dipped the last of her lobster into the bowl of clarified butter and brought it up to her mouth. A drop of butter fell to her chin, then onto a breast as she chewed and swallowed the succulent meat. "This is incredible,' she said, licking the butter from her fingers. Watching her eat, her breasts bare, had given him another erection, and he look a long drink of wine before responding. "Yes, it is,' he said, his eyes on the large breasts that were liberally splattered with butter. "And I don't mean the food. You've gotten so slippery that I wont be able to stay on top.' She looked down at her breasts and laughed, then looked back at him with a gleam in her eyes. "Can you make more butter?' she asked, dipping her fingers in the remaining yellow liquid, smearing her fingers on the white flesh of her mounds. "Or are you tired of the taste?' "Oh, God... Oh, Jesus, yes!' she cried, feeling so enormously full of him. She moaned as he withdrew, then waited for his fingers to tighten again on her hips before pushing herself back against him, crying out as his cock cleaved through her backside and bottomed out deep in her ass. "Ohhhhh,' she cried. "You're so unbelievable tight, Meg,' he said between clenched teeth. "It's great, Mike... So great! Fuck me, babe... c'mon, fuck my nasty ass.' He pulled back and rocked forward with more force this time, and Megan fell forward onto her arms, sliding a bit on the linoleum floor of their kitchen. It was hard for him to keep a good grip on her, she was so slick with the butter all over her body. "Brace yourself against the fridge, honey... yeah, that's it... hold on tight, cause now I'm gonna really fuck you're nasty butt!' "Ohh! Oh, shit!' she cried as he drove into her, harder now. "Take it slut!' he said, driving quickly back and forth inside her, feeling the walls of her tunnel grip his cock almost possessively. Then he felt the sprinkling on his balls that told him she was coming again, and he felt his control desert him and cried out himself as his cock blasted inside her. It had taken them thirty minutes to clean up the mess they'd made of the kitchen, then twenty more in the shower, scrubbing each other clean. "That was incredible, Meg,' he said when they were snuggled together in bed. She kissed him in response. "Much better than the first time. In my bottom, I mean.' "That was great,' he said, "and the blowjob before dinner... and watching you eat---God, that was sexy!' He kissed her before continuing, "But, honey, when the doctor said I should try out my new plumbing tonight, he wasn't thinking that I should cum in your mouth, or ass.' "No?' "Nope.' He felt her fingers close around his cock, stroking him, while her mouth came to his, their tongues intertwined. She broke the kiss and rolled him onto his back and climbed on top of him. "Hmmm. Well, only 'cause it's doctor's orders.' THE END An excerpt from the third and final installment of this Trilogy: "The Fourth Reich': The probate lawyer shook his head and muttered to himself after the hour-long meeting was over. Although taxes would take a good portion of Richard Poulsen's estate, Joseph Reed would be a wealthy young man. The attorney suspected that there was even more to the dead doctor's estate than the ten million that was part of the public record. His instructions were complicated and quite thorough. The wealthy doctor had intended to divide his estate between thirteen young men from all across the country, all named Joseph, and all described in the lengthy will as sons of the late man. The will had instructions in the event that one or more of the beneficiaries died before probate, and now the only surviving son, Joseph Reed, would inherit everything. He'd get the money, and the private correspondence addressed in the doctors own hand to each of his sons. Having discussed probate and estate law in great detail with Poulsen, and knowing the man's aversion to estate taxes, he strongly suspected that the letters contained the secrets to additional funds. The attorney respected his clients wishes, but it had made his skin crawl to meet the beneficiary of all this largess. He knew from his research into the boy's life that he'd been raised by a single mother, but that didn't explain why he had dropped out of high school (despite an IQ well into the genius range), nor his frequent problems with the law... drug possession with intent to sell, three assault and battery charges, a rape charge that was dismissed when the young girl dropped the charges rather than face her rapist. After meeting the boy, now a man, the attorney was convinced that Joseph Reed was some sort of a neo-Nazi. It wasn't just his appearance, the shaved head, the four steel rings in his ear, the swastika tattoo... it was the raw hatred that burned behind the man's incredibly bright blue eyes. He was clearly a powerful man, physically imposing as well as having a crude charismatic aura. More than simply a bully, he struck the attorney force of nature, and one that was wholly evil. Joseph Three set the first type-written letter aside and opened the next envelope, his pulse racing. The second one was more of the same, this one giving directions to a stash of diamonds in a safe-deposit box in St. Louis. "Good stuff?' He looked up and smiled at his friend, then glanced down at his mother's form kneeling between his legs. He liked having her suck him off in front of his friends, naked, with the leash around her neck, but she was distracting him now, and he wanted to focus on the amazing letters. Using the leash, he pulled her off his cock and placed his boot against her chest and pushed her away. "Unfuckingbelieveable stuff, Greg,' he said as his mother fell to the floor. "You take a turn with the slut.' The bare-headed and incredibly ugly Greg Schultz pulled his bulk out of the chair. An offensive lineman in high-school, he'd continued to lift weights daily until his body was almost grotesquely muscled, now three hundred pounds on his six-five frame. Grinning cruelly at the naked woman on the floor, he pulled his tank top over his head to reveal a huge and sculptured chest, kicked off his shoes and slid his shorts and boxers down his massive thighs. Lois Reed didn't let her disgust show as she crawled over in front of the giant. Taking his cock into her mouth, she sucked eagerly while her hand slipped between his thighs to caress the huge balls, knowing by now how each of her son's Nazi friends liked it done. She'd resisted only once, four years before, and the beating that had followed had convinced her that her duty extended beyond serving her son's needs. Joseph looked up after reading the final letter. Greg was fucking her now, holding on to her leash while he hammered his cock into her from behind. And his mom-whore was cuming, crying out as she always did, begging for more. The money from his father would make him wealthy, but not, as they said, beyond his wildest dreams. He had dreams that would change the world. And it pleased him that he got it all without having to even meet the asshole that had knocked up his mother and gone off to live his own life. He knew almost nothing about Richard Poulsen, but he despised the man just the same, and had ordered his mother to tell him to fuck off when he contacted her six months before. Ever since he was small, the bitch had been spouting drivel about a some great purpose for him, a noble destiny that somehow involved his father. But he had found his own destiny, and now, with all the dead fucker's money, nothing could stop him from spreading the word of racial purity. He would be the leader of the forth Reich, and unlike the criminally stupid Adolph Hitler, he would actually succeed. His eyes focused once again on Greg Schultz banging away at his slut. Joseph knew that the giant could and probably would take a half-hour or more before he'd cum, his mother was just too willing and cooperative to really excite his friend. The few times he'd seen Greg really hot was when he was raping some teenage bitch. It was the crying and screaming that turned Greg on, knowing that the Jew-bitch or nigger-slut was suffering, knowing that he would snap their necks just before cuming in their torn and ravaged holes. He was an idiot, Joseph knew, really quite stupid. But he was useful to have around, especially when the gang's plan to control the local drug trade required someone comfortable and experienced with brute force. Pointed in the right direction, Greg Schultz was a deadly weapon. Even more important, he was completely loyal to him personally, as were the others. Complete and unwavering loyalty to him and their cause was a rule that all of his gang understood. The second rule was that drugs were for niggers, not Aryans. They'd worked hard to control the drug trade, but that would become unimportant now that he had the many millions from his father. As he took his position in front of his mother, feeding her his cock, he decided that he needed more recruits. People who he could trust as thoroughly as Greg, but with enough brains to help him take his ideas to the next level. He'd need a chemist or biochemist to help him understand and take advantage of the drug his father had created, the formulae and instructions in that letter completely useless to the high-school dropout... [end] -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /