Chapter 9: Boobs for a Hero

The cramps had faded as the day wore on, but Lauren's discomfort continued to make her feel awful. The blood had dried, caked on the fabric bunched against her pussy. No matter how she shifted or pulled them away from her genitals, the dirty panties managed to press back in and made her aware again of her raw skin and her unpleasant odors.

The convoy pulled off the road and parked in a small clearing after rising for the last hour over growing mountains. Snow caps dotted the surrounding peaks, the air cool, the beauty of the land not completely lost on the sixteen-year old.

They got out to stretch, another fifteen-minute layover. People milled around, drinking coffee, some smoking cigarettes, others moving off to urinate and void bowels. Lauren walked far enough to get away from everyone, settled into a low set of bushes which hovered just North of the parked vehicles.

She squatted down, unzipped her pants and pulled low her bloody underwear. The sharp smell of fish and fear hit her nose and she hated that she had no time to clean up.

Holly wandered toward her just as her urine slowed. The blonde smiled at her, glanced a moment between her legs. Lauren instinctively closed her thighs, tried to hide her genitals from the woman's view. Holly said nothing a moment, squatted down, and pissed a few feet away.

"You doing ok, Lauren? Sorry we've not had a chance to meet properly. Maybe once we get where we're going there will be time for that."

Lauren let her urine drip from her crotch, tried to figure out how to pull her clothes back on without Holly seeing her half-naked. "Yeah ... ok ... this is all crazy."

"Crazy. Yes, crazy and intense, eh? Hard to believe?"

"Very."

Lauren stood, started pulling her panties up.

Holly said, "Listen ... that time of the month, right? Shitty time for that, I know."

Lauren squirmed as her panties crunched against her vulva, said, "yeah ... sucks."

"You, uh ... you could use a pair not soaked in blood, eh?"

"Would be nice."

"Give me a moment, I'll see what I can do. Wait here a sec."

Holly stood and pulled her underwear up, Lauren's eyes drawn a second to the woman's privates. She noticed the lack of hair above her thin slit, looked away before Holly noticed her.

Holly wandered off to the parked vehicles and disappeared. Lauren stood quietly, let her eyes drift to the surrounding peaks, inhaled slowly before letting out a long sigh. She felt so small in that place, so small with so many chaotic things going on around her. It left her longing for a shower and a warm bed, and, she knew, perhaps a moment of alone time to rub one out to relieve her stress.

Holly returned carrying a pair of white cotton panties, handed them to Lauren, said, "best I can do for now, sorry."

Lauren took them, looked uncertain about whether to once more drop her pants.

Holly smiled, said, "I'll turn around. Get them on, we're about to head out again." She turned and made a show of admiring the hazy mountains.

Lauren shed her pants quickly, pulled her bloody panties off, and slid the white pair on.

They were warm and damp.

Lauren yanked them away a moment, horrified. A sticky, creamy deposit was in the gusset, wetness spread along much of the crotch. Holly turned, smiled, said, "best I could do. I gave you mine, couldn't get to baggage just yet. Hopefully they're better than what you had. Here, I'll take yours and see that they get washed when we stop."

Lauren felt uncomfortable as she pushed her dirty underwear into Holly's hand and pulled the damp pair against her genitals. The warmth was nice, but the sticky wetness made her feel disgusted. Holly pocketed the bloody underwear and turned back to return to the convey where engines were turning over.

The sixteen-year old swallowed her revulsion, refastened her jeans, and walked beside Holly. "Where are we going?"

"Switzerland. Border's just up ahead. Could be interesting."

The radio crackled to life. "Mike-One reports gunfire at the border. Weapons free. We're rolling it."

Gene's eyes shot open, tremors running through him. The dream faded quickly, but not fast enough for him to forget the look in Lauren's eye as he sank his penis into her. Goddamn, what the hell was that? Lauren ... Jesus... He shook his head as Holly turned back toward them.

"Everyone get down. These windows should stop most of it, but will give eventually. Stay down until I tell you otherwise. Gene, here." She pressed a pistol into his hands. "We may need someone on that side, too." Gene held it loosely as Holly disengaged the safety on her machine gun. Her smile was wicked as she turned back and watched the rising slope ahead.

The pistol was cold, which seemed appropriate. Gene felt cold, drained, so far off-kilter than he'd been dreaming about fucking his own sixteen-year old daughter.

He sank back and ducked down, made sure Lauren and Finch were low in the seats. "Keep calm. Just keep calm. We'll be ok, stay down." Both kids looked frightened, said nothing. The cramped backseat left little room to move, but he turned his body to the left and stared out the window at the cliff face beside them.

"Take the safety off, Gene. Won't do any good otherwise." Holly had her gun pointed ahead as the border crossing came into view. Gene clicked the safety and trembled, his eyes just above the edge of the glass.

The first few vehicles barreled through the busted gates. Gene saw bodies as they did the same. Blood, pools of it, sprays on the guard house, sprays on a smoking car.

The radio crackled again, "contact front! Run hot!"

Automatic rifle fire sputtered dully ahead. Georges slammed his foot to the floor as the vehicle ahead of them did the same. Holly cracked her window an inch or two. "Cover your ears!"

Logan was terrified and exhilarated at the same time. Bullets dinged off the hood, pangs of impact that seemed to send shock waves through his body. His hands shot to his ears when Holly yelled, seconds later the deafening roar of her weapon drowning out all else. Another burst, another, she yelled, "watch right, Georges!" She looked back, "Gene ... little help here!"

The excitement was intensified when Holly shifted, her ass raised off the seat as she aimed. It brushed against him, pushed into his thigh and his mother's. The gunfire made his ears hurt, but he let one hand drift down, instinctively letting it settle against the short blonde's butt.

He giggled then, caught up in the rush of the speeding gun battle, the sounds and smells of weapons being discharged, the warm, warm flesh hidden just beneath the jeans touching his hand. His penis rose, and it was all he could do not to start masturbating. In his mother's lap, he couldn't, but it was oh, so tempting.

Logan shifted his hand, cupped Holly's ass, squeezed it. She didn't seem to notice. It felt tight and firm, just a little give between his fingers. Logan held on and smiled.

Gunfire erupted from the seat behind him, then his mother's hand grabbed his and slammed it back to his lap.

What the hell, Logan! What is wrong with you!? Tamara's head pounded with the gunfire, the terror, fearing for her children. She'd happened to look down, trying to keep herself and her son as low as possible, when she'd seen his hand resting against Holly's ass. Seemed innocent enough, and she didn't give it a thought until Logan's hand turned and squeezed the blonde's butt cheek.

It took her a few seconds to register the action amidst the frightening chaos, but when she did, she grabbed his hand and pushed it to his lap. Tamara didn't process it then, not really. Booming shots rang out from behind her, more automatic fire from ahead. She buried her observation, moved Logan's hand, and tried to make herself smaller.

Gene responded automatically to Holly's command, the window cracked enough to get his hand out. He thought he might drop the gun, his grip a spasm of fear and anxiety.

Holly yelled again, "high, Gene. Up high, on the left, shoot them!"

The vehicle screamed down the road as Gene's finger twitched and the pounding boom of the pistol left his ears ringing. He wasn't so much aiming as firing in the general direction of the men on the ledge. Flashes and the ripple of gunfire came from the spot, spraying the pavement to their rear. Gene hammered the trigger, tried to aim but the bouncing, speeding truck made it impossible.

He emptied the clip just as the truck passed the gunmen and sped over to the backside of the mountain, racing quickly downhill. Gene pulled his arm in, looked at the pistol. It no longer felt cold.

Holly closed her window, looked back, grinned, said, "great suppression, Gene, baby. Great suppression."

Gene said nothing, the emotional impact of firing a gun at other humans beginning to sink in.

Lauren whimpered against the door, her face sunk down over her knees. Finch could see tears dripping down. He was frightened, numb and trembling, and he felt like crying, too. He almost did. But seeing Lauren so scared steeled him just enough to put his shaking arm around her. She instantly leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, crying into his neck.

It was an emotional moment for him. Lauren was never one to be particularly kind to him, and certainly never appeared weak. That one gesture showed Finch just how terrifying their situation really was.

He pulled her close. Finch never knew why, but he kissed her neck, maybe just something he'd seen his mom and dad do with him or Logan when they were upset. He let his lips linger, the lightest hint of salty flesh hit his tongue. Finch kissed her again, tightened his hug, and she hung on to him more strongly.

Finch smelled her body. The sweat and warmth combined with other, more curious odors. His sister's scents were confusing, some repulsive, others attractive. He found himself growing hard, and realized that the way they were crouched into the seat, Lauren's knee was pressing down between his legs.

Lauren sobbed into Finch's neck. She didn't know why she needed it just then, but when he'd wrapped his arm around her, she immediately latched on, needing the assurance that she wasn't alone. The terror of the fleeing vehicle made her feel sick, and the crying didn't help. Her ears hurt terribly, her body shook in fear.

When Finch kissed her neck, she felt something release. Just a small pressure change in her body, enough to take the edge off the drowning fright boiling in her body. She melted a bit, pulled him closer.

At first, the hard thing pressing against her knee didn't register. It took her mind a while to map the way her body was squeezed into Finch's. His cock ... my brother's cock is hard... She felt it moving as the truck shook, taking a corner just below 'too fast.' She debated pulling back a moment, but then he kissed her neck again and once more, the relaxation happened, taking just a bit more of her trembling fear from her.

She kissed him back, let her lips press against his skin, just touching. Her tears had stopped, Finch's shoulder wet with them. Lauren felt warm suddenly, tremors of another kind just bare ripples against the greater fear. Finch's penis throbbed under her knee, and Lauren couldn't stop noticing. It felt like a bit of a dream, her brother's cock against her drowned out everything out, a fantasy of escape worthy of a Walter Mitty tale. She lost herself, shut out the shouts and panting in the truck and let the warmth of Finch's penis radiate through her and keep her safe.

They wound slowly through a road that only pretended to be wide enough for two lanes, making the convoy creep around oncoming vehicles. Gene stared blankly out the window, gun in his lap.

Georges got agitated, "fucking move, fucking fucks! Goddamn, we gotta run here! Move!" He lowered his window and shouted out, "Move, goddammit, move!"

The radio crackled, "everything ok back there, Georges?"

He responded, "not yet. Can't we go any faster?"

"Working on it."

Georges grumbled and Gene wondered if they were ever going to get to their destination.

"Look at this asshole, he's getting a blow job!"

Gene looked out to where they passed a red convertible. A man in his 60s was leaning back on the seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a blonde head down on his lap. They passed slowly enough for Gene to see painted red lips slide up and down his penis a couple of times before the car was behind them.

Georges looked back, grimace on his face, "uh, sorry, forgot about the kids. Sorry..."

No one else spoke, and Gene returned to his blank stare.

The compound was somewhere outside of Lausanne. They pulled into the heavily-guarded gates around nightfall, vehicles directed to a lot a few hundred yards from a large mansion. Lauren stepped out and crowded near her father and mother as Holly spoke.

"We're here for the night, probably longer. I'll show you where you're staying."

She led them up the drive and into the house through huge double doors. The entry way was as big as most houses. Large paintings and suits of armor met them immediately, white people in black suits and dresses scurried just ahead of their path. Holly took them up the stairs and down a long hallway where they entered a separate wing of the mansion.

"Only one room free, I'm afraid. Losing Belgium House created a lot of people in need of beds." She nodded toward a partially-open door. "Your bags will be brought up shortly." Holly softened, looked at Lauren, then Gene. "Listen. There's a nice bathroom in there, relax a bit. There'll be dinner soon. Clean up, I know you all need it."

Lauren certainly did. She'd been wearing Holly's moist panties all day. It had repulsed her at first, disgusting. But the longer she wore them, the more her mind slid back into the seconds she'd seen Holly's hairless slit. It made her tingle a bit. She'd seen some of her classmates in the showers before, and some of them shaved, but seeing it like that was unexpected, and as the time in the truck had slowly slipped by, Lauren knew her own pussy was adding to the sticky discharge on the fabric.

Finch's cock hadn't helped. At first, it was just innocent, but the longer it had gone on, the more she fixated on it, attached herself to the hard shaft pressing against his pants and onto her knee. She let the thought linger just a moment before she spotted the bathroom and yelled, "first!"

Gene sat on the king-plus-sized bed, holding Tamara's hand. Everyone was exhausted, and he was tempted to suggest they all crawl under the sheets and try to get some sleep. Their bags were brought up while Lauren showered.

His daughter finished, came out wrapped in a towel. He averted his gaze but found himself watching as she picked through her bag and pulled out an older green dress she liked to wear. Her legs were still wet, glistened, her hair slick and dark. His daughter looked very beautiful in that moment. Sexy, even ... uhh ... fuck, Gene. That dream about Lauren really fucked your mind! She continued digging, turned the bag around and dug more. "Great."

Tamara asked, "what, Lauren?"

"No underwear, Mom! I didn't pack underwear ... Ugh..."

"I have some you can borrow. They'll be too big on you, but for now, just go with it."

Tamara dropped his hand and dug out a pair of thin red panties, handed them to Lauren who disappeared into the bathroom again. Gene's mind wandered. He'd seen those panties on his wife many times. He imagined what they might look like on his daughter. Gene shifted his weight as his penis started to harden.

A knock on the door was followed by, "dinner in five minutes. Downstairs, someone will meet you and take you back."

Everyone had had a chance to shower and change clothes. Tamara felt much better already. Still overwhelmed, but clean, a sense of normality restored to their lives. She no longer felt sticky and gritty, had managed to run the hot water over her neck long enough to mostly relieve the stiffness.

Gene had shaved, looked like a new man, the long grey shadow removed from his face. He gave her a small smile and she returned it. She was still angry with him, confused, still upset. But after what they'd been through, there was no time to take it out on him, too much depended on them sticking together and staying focused.

The family of five strode to the steps and descended. A thin pale man with light blue eyes greeted them and led them deeper into the house. They passed a room full of magazine covers. Tamara couldn't put the pieces together enough to understand the connection. They seemed random. Celebrities, business logos, smoking factories, flowing rivers.

That room opened into a large dining area. It looked more like a mix between a trendy cafe and a medieval scullery. Long wooden shelves and cabinets lined one wall, the opposite side featured a dozen small tables, with a row of bench booths along the wall. In the middle was a long wooden table, a deep purple fabric running along the middle and hanging over the sides.

Three people sat at the far end. Tamara recognized Holly, but the older couple sitting with her were unknown.

The man rose, as did the woman beside him. He said, "Ah, yes. There you are again, Gene. Welcome. It is very good to see you. Good to know you made it safely."

Gene shook his hand, said, "Victor ... I ... didn't expect to see you here."

"Did Holly not explain?"

"Does Holly ever explain anything?"

The older man chuckled, said, "I see you have spent enough time to understand her better, yes?" He glanced at Tamara, drew his hands to his chest, took steps toward her. "Oh, my, lovely Tamara. I expected you'd be beautiful. I wasn't expecting this!" He took her hand, kissed it, held it between his own. "My apologies, I cannot help but kiss the hand of a stunning woman. My name is Victor Harrelman. Let me introduce you to another stunning woman, my wife, Theresa."

"Welcome to La Maison Sensuelle, our home here in Switzerland," the older silver-and-black haired woman offered.

"Th-thanks. I ... Gene mentioned meeting you, he spoke warmly of it."

"Ah yes, warmly. It was a rather warm night, was it not, my dear?"

Victor puffed out his chest and smiled, "very warm, indeed." Gene cleared his throat, Victor returned to stand beside him. "Ah, well, yes. Let's eat, shall we? You must be very hungry. Ah, you must be the lovely Lauren, I've heard..."

The meal arrived immediately. Veal with mushrooms in a creamy sauce filled a platter. Two pots of fondue offered rich cheeses dipped with bread, steak, and olives. A bowl of cherries and grapes sat at one end of the group, peeled, spiced shrimp at the other. Bundles of bread and fresh butter sat beside lox and capers.

They ate mostly in silence a few moments before Victor said, "so you'll stay here tonight, it is settled. Plan to be here until things are further decided. Here, you are safe. Don't leave the grounds, not without orders. I understand Colonel Fleur has made you aware of following orders while you are with us, yes?"

Gene nodded.

"Good. Colonel Fleur follows my orders."

"Your orders?"

"My orders."

"So ... you run Marker 1?"

Victor laughed, "no one runs Market 1, my dear man. But perhaps I am the most responsible, yes. See ... we have cells scattered right now, on purpose. Decentralized leadership helps us stay off the radar. Helped I should say. In Europe and parts of the Middle East, I am in charge, yes. But there are others. We fight together when we must, but right now, we fight our own battles, yes."

Gene sat silently, pondering his words. Logan surprised him by speaking up. "Where do the soldiers sleep?"

Victor smiled warmly, "curious one, eh? Bunkers, my boy. We have several on the property, not visible from the air with the trees. Enough room and supplies to keep an army of eight hundred fed and housed for a month. Let's hope it doesn't come to it!"