My Nightmare Flight Home

by MischiefMaker

Copyright© 2019 by MischiefMaker

Erotica Sex Story: Anna had flown to Washington D.C. for a fun weekend with her parents. After the conclusion of the lovely weekend, all she wanted was a relaxing flight back to Uni. Sadly fate had other things planned for her...

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Ma/ft   Coercion   Drunk/Drugged   NonConsensual   Rough   First   Oral Sex   .

This event described in this story is not following the same timeline as the events in Book 1. Anna’s already enrolled as a student at Stanford. This story can be read separately, but in order to recognize the character and the world she inhabits, it is recommended that readers first read “Diary of a Body Switcher”.

I also wanted to mention that this story is quite a bit darker than the others I have written and involves acts of non-consensual sex. I want to make it clear that I do not condone rape, nor do I approve of people who participate in acts of violence against women. This is intended to be a fantasy, nothing more.

I was waiting at the gate to take my flight back to Uni. Dad and Mom were traveling through the East Coast, actually celebrating their final few months being together by reliving old memories while also making new ones. I thought the whole idea was quite strange, but they were finally both in a happy place and that was all that really mattered. On their request, I had taken a weekend off to join them in Washington D.C., to spend some time with them and also do some sightseeing. I had spent many years working just outside D.C, in my old body, and was pretty sure that I knew the city better than either of them. Of course, I couldn’t reveal my knowledge to my parents. So, I wandered around with them going to different museums and sites, eating at the touristy places missing on the little hole-in-the-wall gems that only the locals knew about.

The trip had been wonderful, and I enjoyed having the chance to spend some time with my parents, but I was dreading the return trip. Their decision to invite me over had been a last-minute decision. While I had been lucky to get an aisle seat going there, unfortunately, I was unable to change my seat assignment coming back. So, here I was, about to board a red-eye flight from Washington D.C to San Francisco with a middle seat assignment in row 38, which I was sure was going to be one of the last rows on the flight. All my efforts at this point were put into fervent prayers hoping for two petite women as my seatmates.

I was one of the final people to board the flight thanks to the fact that I had no status with the airline. Walking to my seat I noticed more than a few heads turn to watch me walk down the aisle. I attributed this to the fact that I was wearing a fitting flowery pink sleeveless tank-top with a mid-thigh flaring skirt. I had dressed up for dinner since we were going to a fancy restaurant before I had to catch my flight. So, there I was, a young girl wearing a lovely albeit quite revealing outfit carrying my Stanford hoodie in my arms.

As I approached my row, I could feel my heart sink. There was only one empty seat in the direction I was headed, and it was in the second to last row of the plane. The occupants, or at least one of them, made me want to cry in frustration. Sitting in the window seat was a young guy, probably a few years younger than me, taking up at least 1.5 seats. In the aisle was an older man, who was probably in his early 50s. The younger man shared many facial features with the older one, and I guessed that they were father and son. I hoped I could convince them to sit next to each other.

Both of them had been following my movements, probably praying that I would continue past them. I walked up to them and said, “Sorry gentlemen, I believe I have the seat in between the two of you.”

The older guy gave me a small wink as if to say, better you than me, before getting up. I looked at him before saying, “You know, if you guys are related. I’d be happy to take the aisle or window seat so that you can sit together.” The old man immediately responded, “Sorry honey. Junior loves the window seat, and I need to frequently use the loo.” The kid gave me a rueful smile in apology.

There were several bags occupying the row next to us and the last row. I enquired with the attendant standing at the back if there was any chance that we could move the bags to accommodate me, but she shook her head to let me know that it went against airline policy. I shook my head in resignation before trying to find some overhead bin space to put my large backpack. Only to realize that there was no space to be found. The same attendant gave me a shrug and a look of pity as she informed me that I would have to store my backpack under the seat. What was already going to be uncomfortable seemed to be turning into a bit of a nightmare scenario.

Having lost the tiny glimmer of hope, I squeezed myself into the seat before stuffing my backpack under the seat in front of me, only to have it protrude well past the tiny space it was meant to reside in. The older guy squeezed back in, nearly sitting in my lap. Examining the situation, I realized that there was no way any of us could lower the seat dividers. I had ended up essentially straddling the two seats. Belatedly, I noticed that both guys were dressed in shorts, in accordance with the warm weather. So, the tight squeeze meant that the skin of my exposed leg was rubbing against their hairy legs, making me feel a little violated.

Once I situated myself, I realized that the plane was as cold as a refrigerator. I tried to adjust the air vent over my head after slipping on my hoodie only to realize that it was broken in the open position. I cursed at the powers-that-be for putting me in this horrible situation, actually getting tears, resigned to adding cold to my growing list of complaints about this flight. My older neighbor saw my tears and must have felt some pity. He had a large fleece blanket thrown over his legs, that he unwrapped to spread over all three of our legs before giving a smile.

“Hey, look I’m really sorry about the awful seating situation. My son and I typically buy an extra seat on flights. Unfortunately, this time the airline didn’t have any spare seats which I guess is why we are all in this situation. My name is Arthur Smith and that’s my son Benjamin, you can call us Art and Ben.”

I introduced myself and we spoke a little as we waited for the flight to depart. It turned out that Art and his son owned a small Vineyard in Virginia and were traveling to Sonoma to discuss a potential tie-up with a large distributor to help them grow their business. While I was impressed that Arts son was interested in participating in the family business at such a young age (he was only 14), I was less than impressed with Art himself. He didn’t say anything obviously condescending, but he kept putting his son down for his weight and also made a passing remark about kids wasting their parents time and money going to college. Obviously insinuating that my life would be better served staying at home.

I tried to engage Ben in conversation only to find that he was painfully shy. He would look over at his father, as if waiting for approval, before replying to any of the questions I asked. In the end, we all settled down for the long flight ahead of us. The constant gusts of cold air hitting my head were starting to give me a headache and I rang the call button to ask the attendant if there was anything she could do about the vent and if not if she could give me something for the headache. In typical airline fashion, I was not surprised when the attendant politely rejected and both of my requests were rejected.

For the second time, in this short flight Art rescued me. He reached into the overhead bin to rummage through his luggage before pulling out a small white pill and handing it to me. He told me he frequently got terrible migraines and he had a small stockpile of meds to help him when they hit. He warned me that I might feel a little dizzy and/or sleepy and that he would always take them when he knew he didn’t have to travel anywhere. He said, “At least you aren’t going to be driving anywhere” and laughed at his joke.

I hesitated to take the pill, not knowing if I could trust the guy but consumed it anyways when I felt my head throbbing as the plane went through a particularly violent patch of turbulence. I then put on my headphones to listen to some music and read a book that I had downloaded before the flight. The attendants came by with drinks and I got some water as I was feeling quite parched. Ben got a coke while Art purchased three mini-bottles of vodka. After the attendant went by, he quietly slipped a bottle to Ben before offering me the other. “Would you care to share a drink with us. I don’t normally let Ben drink, but this deal in California is going to really set us up, so I’d like to celebrate.”

I tried to decline but on Arts continued insistence that I join them for at least a small drink. I finally acquiesced after he made a valid point, we were so uncomfortable right now, maybe a drink would help us fall asleep and reduce our sorrow.

We finished our drinks and were chatting quietly for a while when I noticed that my headache was easing. I felt immensely grateful to Art for his kind gesture and in a very atypical gesture, reached over and gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek.

He got a big smile and asked me “What was that for honey? Not that I’m complaining mind you.”

I replied with a blush on my face, wondering what had possessed me to do that, “Oh nothing. I felt my headache go away. I feel really happy right now.”

For a fleeting moment, he got a calculating look on his face that went away as soon as I saw it. He then shrugged and said, “Oh if it’s that, then you should really be thanking Ben. He was the one who reminded me to not forget the pills when we were packing. If you don’t mind, could you transfer the hug and kiss to my boy.”

Let me describe the two men. Art was quite tall, at least a few inches taller than my 5’ 10”, while Ben was a little shorter than me. They were both very tanned, probably from all the time they spent under the sun, farming. Art looked strong, in the way that a man who has spent his life working with his hands’ looks. It made Bens large physique all the more contrasting. They both had the same messy light brown hair with grayish blue eyes. I would have considered Art to be quite good looking if he didn’t come across as such an ass.

Back to the story, I considered Art’s request odd but didn’t see any harm in it. So, I gave Ben a good-natured smile, before lifting off the seat to reach across him to give him a hug. When I went to kiss his cheek, I saw him blushing and he turned to me to say that I didn’t have to kiss him, just as I leaned in. Resulting in me planting a big kiss on his slightly open lips. I was a little flustered and was about to berate him when I saw that he had gone completely red.

I giggled a little and Art guffawed in laughter. “Well Son, there you go. You finally got your first kiss, and that too with such a gorgeous girl. Be sure to thank her properly.”

Ben apologized to me repeatedly and I brushed it aside, telling him that I was glad to give him his first kiss. I was feeling a fantastic buzz from the drink and with my headache gone, I felt almost giddy with happiness.

Art was smiling at us both when he said, “Sweetheart, are you warm? You’re sweating.”

I touched my brow and realized that I was indeed sweating. My hairline was damp with sweat. I wondered if I should move the blanket off of me when I remembered that it was covering all three of us. As I was considering my choices, I heard Arts voice, it seemed a little muffled. I looked at him and saw his lips moving but I didn’t hear the words for a second. Then the world snapped back in to place, and I heard Art say, “I guess you could take off your sweatshirt. We have the blanket, so if you feel cold, you can just cover yourself with it.”

His suggestion made perfect sense to me. I couldn’t understand why I had felt that Art was an ass earlier. He had been nothing but nice to me from the moment we met, and I felt bad for judging him harshly earlier. I nodded at him and grabbed the bottom of my hoodie and yanked it up in one motion. In my haste, I had pulled the bottom of my tank top up with the hoodie, exposing my bra covered breasts to both Art and Ben.

My head was trapped in the hoodie while I was trying to pull my top back down to cover my chest. I could hear Art chuckling and say, “Woah there, love. I didn’t think Ben would get to second base so fast.” I felt his hand reach across me, pulling the entangled top out from the hoodie and pull it down my body. I could feel his warm hands graze past my breasts, pausing at the peaks for just a second before continuing past them. His hands reached around my back to straighten the top from behind, before helping me finally pull the hoodie off. My hair was a rumpled mess, framing my face like a halo. I gave him an adoring smile, really happy that I had such a nice man to take care of me.

He straightened my hair before dropping the hoodie in front of us on top of my backpack. I liked the feeling of the cold air hitting my newly exposed shoulders. I looked down and saw that my top was a little misaligned but in place showing a great deal of cleavage to the appreciative gazes of my neighbors.

I reached across to Art again to hug him for being such a gentleman. He saw me coming this time and lowered his head to meet my upturned face before capturing my lips in a quick, rough kiss. “Now that’s how you really thank a man sweetheart,” he drawled. I reddened at his action but didn’t protest it. “You’re a really lovely thing, Anna. Obedient too.” I saw that calculative look again in his eyes. I saw his eyes roving over my body and realized that I liked him looking. “Shouldn’t you thank Ben again. He held the blanket up to hide your body from the others when you were displaying your nearly naked body to the whole plane.”

I shrugged and thanked Ben when I heard Art’s voice telling to do it properly. I realized he wanted me to hug and kiss him like earlier. I raised myself a little to lean towards Ben and felt Art’s hand on my lower back, supporting me, lifting me towards his son. The seatbelt was preventing me from rising, and I said as much, and Art reached down to unbuckle it. With the restraint gone, I raised my body to stand on one knee as I leaned across to lay my head on Ben’s wide chest. I dimly remembered that the last time I did this, I didn’t go through so much effort, but I heard Art praising me from behind for making his son feel appreciated and that made it worth the effort. I felt Art’s hand cup my ass suddenly causing me to flinch in surprise. I held his hand to push it off and sit back down when I heard Art tell me in a stern voice that I hadn’t finished thanking Ben. Oh, and that I shouldn’t mind his hand, that it was only there to help me get closer to Ben.

At any other time, I would have laughed at his warped logic and called the attendant. However, in my drug-addled state, all I could think of was that I guess I was being silly. So, I reached out to Ben once again, even as I could feel Art’s hand bolding cupping my ass and gave Ben a sound kiss. Art had moved on to kneading my ass as I kissed his son. Once I was done, I lowered myself back to the seat, while Art kept his hand on my ass. It was a little uncomfortable and I said as much. Art brushed aside my concern though and said that it was his reward for lending me the blanket.

After a few minutes of feeling his hand grope me, Art finally pulled it out and told me that they were going to sleep for a bit and that I should do the same.

I nodded to him and closed my eyes to try and get some sleep, but my body had continued to grow warmer, even after taking off the sweatshirt. I was squirming in discomfort when I heard Art’s voice again, “What’s wrong sweetheart. Can’t exactly sleep with you dancing next to us.”

“Sorry Art. It’s just that I am feeling really uncomfortably warm. You know I wish I could just take all my clothes off.” I giggled. I leaned close to him and said, “I normally sleep naked at home.” I don’t know why I told him that, but when I saw him give me a lecherous smile, I actually felt a twinge of heat in my groin.

Art took a long look at me before saying, “Well sadly, we can’t have you sitting around naked over here. I think the flight attendants wouldn’t like that. Would they Ben?” I looked at Ben who had his mouth wide open as if he couldn’t believe what I had disclosed to the two of them.

“However,” he continued, “I think you can take off your underwear without anyone noticing my dear. That might help you feel a little less constrained. Don’t you agree, Ben?”

“Hehe, that would be sooo naughty.” I giggled and even considered it for a second before turning him down, “I couldn’t do that. I barely know you guys. You’d think I was some kind of slut.” I giggled again.

Art leaned in close and whispered, “Aww c’mon, we are all friends over here. It’s not like we’d be able to see anything anyways. Your clothes would still be covering all the important bits”

I continued to giggle and shake my head. I saw him reach into his coat pocket before bringing out a flask. He shook it in front of me and I could hear something sloshing inside it. He said, “If you can’t strip down to get more comfortable. We can take turns having a few sips of my hooch. Maybe that’ll help you cool down?”

“Ooh, what’s in it?” I said, having lost much of my inhibitions by that point.

“We brew some stuff back on the farm. It’ll calm an adult bull.” He said with a wink before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

“How’d you get it past security though?” I asked him.

He grinned at me, “Junior and I pack the stuff in mini-bottles and declared it before getting on. No one blinked an eye.”

I took his flask and just shook my head in wonderment before taking a long draw. The stuff burned as it went down and left me gagging at the sharp taste of nearly pure alcohol.

“Oh, hey there, slow down missy. This stuff is strong. Not to mention, leave some for me.” Art laughed quietly.

We continued taking sips from his flask. However, the booze, instead of making me cooler was doing the opposite. It felt like I would explode from the heat building up inside me. For some reason, as I got warmer, I was also getting hornier, to the point where I feared that my juices were leaking out and soaking the seat underneath.

I grabbed my sweatshirt from where it had been thrown earlier and squeezed it under my ass. I then lay back in my seat staring at the vent in the ceiling above and slowly started falling into a daze.

Art had been watching my actions carefully and suddenly got a knowing smile on his face. He leaned over and grabbed my head, his grip startling me out of my stupor. “Why’d you do that Anna?”

“Oh, just like that,” I muttered.

He held my chin in my hand and raised my face to look up at him and then told me in a stern voice, “I asked you a question, young lady. Don’t you lie to me? You aren’t too old for me to smack your ass.”

I was startled by his tone and diverted my eyes away from him. My face was burning red from the shame I was feeling at that moment.

Art was watching my every movement and knew that almost had me. Using both hands, he made me look back at him, “Tell me now or get spanked. The choice is yours little girl.”

I could feel my resistance crumbling under the pressure he was putting on me. Tears were filling my eyes, and before I knew it, I was confessing to Art. “Oh my god. I’m so ashamed. I am so horny that I was worried that I was drenching the seat. Please believe me when I say that I’m not usually like this. I only put the sweatshirt to protect the seat” I whispered back, burying my face in my hands and sobbing, my emotions swinging wildly.

He laughed slightly and then whispered, “Is that all. Here I thought you were going to tell me that you peed yourself. Now just lean back darling and let old uncle Art take care of you. I’ll check to see if you are wetting the seat and if you are, then Ben and I will help clean you up. Isn’t that right Ben.” I could hear Ben say something quietly.

He first instructed me to lean forward a little and when I did so, he lifted the sweatshirt from under me. He also lifted my skirt from under me, exposing my panty clad ass to their eyes. Art then made a small show of patting the seat to check if was wet. He exclaimed to me that it was indeed soaking, and he put the sweatshirt back in place. However, he left my skirt raised above my waist. I was leaning forward and into the seat in front of me the whole time.

Art then leaned into me and whispered, “I’m going to take off your panties to clean you up now. I want you to stay exactly as you are.”

Before I could process his words, I felt his hands grab my panties and pull them over my ass. I could feel the cold air from the vent fall on my exposed cheeks and couldn’t help commenting to Art that the air felt good. I heard his gravelly chuckle behind me, “You’ll feel even better shortly my little slut.”

He had pushed my panties all the way to the floor. I couldn’t see what he did with them, but soon I felt his fingers back on my ass. I could hear Ben’s excited breathing as he watched his father run his hands over the exposed ass of a woman that he wouldn’t have ever thought would even spare him the time of the day.

I was swaying as I was leaning forward, and I asked Art for his permission to sit back down. He smacked my ass lightly and I could hear Ben’s gasp when he saw that. Then Art pulled me back down into the seat. He pried my legs apart and then lifted my left leg to drape it over his before instructing Ben to do the same with my right leg. He pulled the front of my skirt to my waist, revealing my bald pussy to both of them.

He started to strum his callused fingers over my pussy lips. I heard him whispering into my ear, “Shaved and soaking! I knew you were a hot-to-trot cunt. I had pointed you out to Junior when we were boarding the flight and told him that you were born to be fucked. Consider yourself lucky, that I didn’t find you at a club. I’d have fucked you for days before lining up all the guys on the farm to fuck you.” He stuck his three fingers roughly into my wet twat and sawed it in-and-out of me. I started moaning as his fingers drew the juices out of me. He hastily shoved my panties into my mouth to shut me up for fear of alerting the people around us.

I could faintly hear Ben whisper to his father, “Jeez Dad, what was in that pill you gave her?”

Art hushed him, “Keep your voice down, you idiot. It’s something your uncle Joe and I cooked up a few years ago. It’s a mix of MDMA, KitKat and some Chinese shit that’s guaranteed to get any bitch good and ripe to be fucked. The best part, she won’t remember a thing in the morning. Now if you shut the fuck up, then I’ll let you use her to lose your virginity. It’ll be a tight fit, but I think we can make it work.”

I could hear them whispering, but I was no longer in control of my body. In the pretext of giving me something for my headache, Art had roofied me using some homemade concoction. While Art was talking to Ben, I suddenly felt like I was leaving my body. I was floating looking back at myself. I could see Art and Ben leaning towards each other whispering and planning while I was lying between them, for all the world looking like a pale, beautiful girl sleeping with a blissful smile on her lips.

I saw Art looking at me with an evil grin. His hands had been running over the leg that was draped over his own. He would slap my cunt, every time his hand reached the junction of my legs, causing me to jerk. Ben was aping his actions, rubbing his fat hands all over my leg, smacking between my legs as well. I could see him gaining confidence with each stroke and slap, his beady little eyes concentrating on his actions. I saw a sadistic grin starting to build on his lips. While Ben was enjoying himself, Art got busy stripping away the last remaining piece of underwear I was wearing. He had me lean my head on his shoulder before reaching under my top to unbuckle my bra. I saw him expertly stripping my inert body, causing me to realize that I wasn’t the first incapacitated woman he’d dealt with. He had pulled out my bra before bringing it to his nose to take in a deep breath before tossing it to Ben who continued mimicking his father’s actions.

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