Debauchery Falls Ch. 01

*** Disclaimer ***

The following story may contain themes of hypnosis, mind control, non-consent, paranormal, cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, incest, gang bangs, and other forms of debauchery. This may not be the story for you.

This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Debauchery Falls chapter 01

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The tension in the car was palpable. The only sound was the drum of rain on the roof, the tires on the wet road, and the endless swooshing of the wipers.

In the distance, lightning flashed and for a moment, the night became as bright as day. The road, the trees, and the forest could be seen for miles. They were the only car on the road, and neither occupant was surprised by this.

"Wow, that was a good one," Brad Tanner commented.

She didn't reply for several long minutes.

Eventually they passed a green and white road sign. JASPER FALLS 5 MILES.

As if scorned by the sign, Andrea Tanner popped her gun for the millionth time and sighed. "I don't know why you had to bring me along for this. If there really is a problem, what do you expect me to do? I'm not Batman."

Brad held his composure. It wouldn't do either of them any good to lose his patience. They'd been at each other's throats for the past few days now. Ever since Emily stopped answering her phone. "Because it shows that you care. This is your sister, we're talking about."

"But I don't care. I really don't. And even if I did, that wouldn't make a world of difference if Em is in some kind of trouble. I'm not even old enough to drink. Did you think about that? It's been raining non-stop. The town is probably wrecked, and you took your daughter into a flood. Great fuckin' idea, dad."

"Watch your mouth," Brad said, tightening his grip on the wheel and keeping his voice as neutral as possible. Although that was becoming more and more difficult lately. Andrea had always been the rebellious type, ever since she'd hit her teens. Defiance, cursing, loud music, and risqué clothes had taken over. Then Andrea's mother had passed away a year ago. Despite feigning apathy, the loss had effected Andrea deeper than she would ever admit to her father, her older sister, or the school guidance counselor. Now she was 18, had barely managed to graduate high school, and was becoming more obnoxious with each passing day. She'd dyed her hair a shade of raven black, come home with a nose ring (among other accessories), and began to cover her face with copious amounts of makeup. Brad liked to think of himself as a pretty patient father. He could tolerate her fashion choices-- every generation did something radical that their parents didn't understand. He accepted the piercings-- they were relatively moderate, all things considered. But the makeup bothered him. Andrea had been blessed with girl-next-door good looks. Cute freckles, full pink lips, big brown eyes, and arching eyebrows. She could have been that all American sweetheart. But now she looked borderline Goth, and it matched her sullen personality.

Brad got it. He really did. They were all broken by the loss. Brad most of all. He missed his wife terribly. Andrea was handling it by emotionally distancing from her former self. And her older sister Emily was distancing herself from... well... everyone. Emily and her husband had recently bought a house in some isolated little one-horse town in the woods. A former one room school house, they were in the process of converting it into a home. But since the passing of her mother, Emily had thrown herself into the project, 100%. Her progress was feverish, and she spent less and less time checking in with her father.

Then this past week, severe storms were sweeping across the state, bringing record breaking rainfall and floods. Rivers overflowed, the power grid was failing, and relief workers were overwhelmed.

Jasper Falls was isolated enough without the looming threat of dangerous weather. And when Brad wasn't able to reach out to Emily, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Was it foolish? Probably. But he needed to know she was safe. And he needed Andrea to come along, for his own mental sanity. He needed to hold onto his remaining family as tightly as he could. Losing his wife was terrible, but now Brad began to feel like he was losing both of his daughters. Their hands were slipping away from his.

Plus... he wasn't going to leave Andrea alone in the house for any length of time. By now, he trusted her as far as he could throw her.

Andrea shook her head, folded her arms across her chest, and propped one of her worn Chuck Taylor's on the dashboard. Her pleated jean skirt-- already dangerously short-- slid upward, revealing her smooth creamy thigh.

Idly, Brad wondered just how short she'd let her attire get. She'd nearly flashed half the mini-mart when they'd stopped for gas and gone inside for snacks. Everyone had practically seen the bottoms of her perky ass cheeks. Was she even wearing underwear? He didn't want to know.

Andrea caught her dad's disapproving glance from the corner of her eye. "See something you like?" She asked, and her thick lipstick coated mouth pulled into a dark smile. She ran her hand over her thigh suggestively.

Brad sighed and turned back to the road. It was times like this, he didn't know what to make of his daughter. She was starting to make him uncomfortable and--

The turnoff. The only road into town was easy to miss. It came up quickly, and Brad hit the brakes. Wet tires screeched on wet pavement, and for one terrifying moment, the car began to fishtail.

"Jesus dad!" Andrea blurted out, her casual apathy broken by sudden alarm.

Then the car righted itself, and Brad pulled north onto Kings Lane. The forest closed in around the road, forming a tunnel of trees that swallowed the tiny sedan.

A few miles up, and the bridge over Jernigan Creek came into view. Brad slowed.

"Oh my god," he muttered when he saw the rushing brown current. It hadn't reached the bridge, but the water was high. Very high, considering for half the summer, the creek bed was empty and lined with dry boulders.

Brad navigated them slowly around a few police saw horses that blocked the bridge.

"Umm, dad, I think those are there for a reason," Andrea remarked sarcastically.

"Well we're outlaws, then," Brad wasn't in the mood for her commentary. Then they were in the town proper.

"Town" was an embellishment. There were only three roads branching off of Kings Lane, shaping the area like an uppercase E. Small hunting style cabins, and modest two-story family homes lined the gravel roads, set back on large grassy plots of land. There was a two story dive bar/hotel dating back to the 1800's at one intersection, an abandoned church hidden in the trees to the south, an open fairgrounds lot to the north, and not much else. All nestled into a valley surrounded on the east, north, and west by steep mountains and thick forest-- more of a crater than a valley, really-- and it was only accessible from the south.

"Ghost town," Andrea remarked, leaning forward in her seat, and wrapping her arms tighter around herself. An expression of unease broke through that mask of carefully crafted apathy.

Indeed, there wasn't a light on in the entire town. Not only had power been extinguished, but there was no sign of life. No candles lit within the pulled curtains, no fireplaces going, no smoke emanating from chimneys, no running cars, or flares, or people walking, and no chugging generators. Everything was as still as could be.

The Sheriff station was across from the Lantern Glow Inn. Like the hotel on the corner, it too was dark.

Brad left the car running as he peered through the glass doors. The rain pattered on his head, matting his thinning hair to his scalp. Andrea stood near the car, kicking nervously at the gravel beneath her converse sneakers. She'd dawned her hooded sweatshirt, and pulled the hood up over her head against the pounding storm. Brad was grateful for that. Better the Sheriff not see his daughter in her fishnet sleeves and cleavagey shirt.

"Anybody home?" Andrea called.

Brad tried the door and found it locked. The building completely dark. "No," he rejoined her at the car.

"They're gone. Let's get the hell out of here," Andrea insisted. Despite the dark makeup around her eyes, there was look of pleading about them.

"An entire town just gone without a trace?"

"Thirty people is hardly a town, dad."

An exaggeration, but still. "They wouldn't have all left without leaving a note or something."

They returned to the car and they cruised slowly through the town, their eyes peeled for movement. Though neither said it, they both had a nagging feeling that things were horribly amiss.

"Think there's anybody in the hotel?" Andrea asked.

"We'd probably have better luck checking a house," Brad replied. If people were bunkered in without power, they'd be in their homes.

He pulled into the driveway of the first house they came to. The cottage was cute, with beige siding, dark green window shutters... or were they blue? It was hard to tell in this light. A tree over-hung the gravel driveway. A tiny carriage house that matched the residence sat out back... or was it a large decorative shed? Again, they couldn't tell in this light. The front porch was adorned with wicker furniture. Whoever owned this place clearly loved it. Which was exactly why the front door standing open was so concerning...

Brad retrieved a flashlight. "Wait here," he told his daughter.

"Not a chance in hell you're leaving me alone." She hopped lightly out of the vehicle and they dashed up to the porch in the driving rain. Along the way, Andrea risked a glance at the looming house, and for a moment, saw a face-- a ghastly pale face of a man grinning at them, his expression mindless and leering. Then she blinked and it was gone. Just black soulless windows.

"Dad, please. Let's just go," Andrea begged as they sheltered beneath the porch overhang and Brad nudged the door open with the toe of his work boot.

"Not until we know what happened to your sister," Brad whispered and shushed her.

Andrea's brow was pinched together with worry, but the only protest she gave was a tiny whimper from deep down in her core. For once, she actually looked like his daughter, and not the snarky teenaged imposter who had taken over her persona.

They stepped across the threshold together.

A pellet stove stood in one corner. Floral furniture and a TV across from it. A comfortable looking armchair and some shelves for antique toys along one wall. Nothing out of place.

"Hello?" Brad called out to the empty air.

Andrea immediately glared at him and shook her head. Calling out seemed like the smart idea. They were invaders into someone else's home. But Brad understood at once. There was something in the still air that warned them to be silent.

As the floor boards protested beneath their feet, a teddy bear in hunter-flannel fell from a shelf. Not fell... it almost seemed like it was thrown at them. It hit the floor without a sound, landing at their feet. Their hearts were pounding as they stepped over the toy.

The hallway beyond led them into a kitchen with a checkerboard floor. The walls were a peach color. The kitchen appeared to have been used recently. Chairs were pulled out. Dirty plates sat in the sink. Empty bottles of water and beer were on the table. Cold food sat on a plate, half finished. Wadded up napkins were in the garbage can. A sticky substance was pooling near the refrigerator. They opened it and both breathed a sigh of relief when they saw that it was merely ice cream-- long melted from the lack of power.

Andrea eyed the table. Beneath a steak knife, deep gouges had been carved into the table's wood surface. Symbols and glyphs that made no sense to her. They radiated something insane... or evil, or both.

They came to a set of stairs. There wasn't much else to the first floor, so up they went.

The second floor was even smaller than the first. A loft with bunk beds and Legos on a shelf. There was an adult bedroom off of the loft, along with a bathroom. The beds looked like they had all been slept in. They weren't made. Clothing had been removed from the closets. Much of it was discarded on the floor. Beyond that, there was nothing else to see. Brad and his daughter looked at each other and shrugged, heading back downstairs. Maybe the town evacuated in a hurry-- such a hurry that nobody bothered to call their loved ones.

Brad opened his mouth to suggest such a theory to his daughter, but froze when he saw Andrea's eyes widen. She was staring past him-- to the kitchen window.

A face just outside, peering in at them. A face that was pale and gaunt with prominent cheekbones and shadows beneath. A man-- one that looked sickly. His eyes were wide and vacant, staring at them... through them. He was wearing a black hood, pointed and cone-shaped, like something a garden gnome would wear.

"Who the fuck..." Brad stepped forward, protectively. Andrea opened her mouth to scream. But then lightning flashed, and the face was gone. Just the black empty window gaped back at them.

Brad didn't believe it.

"You saw that, right?" Andrea asked in a trembling voice. But her father was already rushing to the door, hoping to catch this mystery person.

"Dad, wait!" She called after him. Brad stepped outside and dashed around the perimeter of the house.

There was nobody to be seen. The wind carried no sounds, and nothing moved between the shadows of the trees. Like it had never been there.

He found his daughter trembling in the driveway. He put his arms around her, and glanced up and down the empty street. Just the dull roar of the rain. They were standing in the middle of a town, and yet they never felt more alone.

"Where the hell is everyone?" Brad asked out loud.

***

ONE MONTH PRIOR

"Wanna see something really cool, rookie?" Officer Williams remarked, unable to resist the spreading grin.

"I don't know, do I?" Officer Judy Nunez responded, trying to keep the nervous energy out of her voice. This was only her first week on the job. She barely knew the layout of the facility, let alone the inmates. They intimidated her.

But she supposed that was normal. Any young woman working in a prison for the first time in her life might feel the same way. But the pay was good, the benefits were even better, and the retirement was outstanding. So if she had to endure the hoots and hollers of the inmates remarking about her pretty young face, or her tan skin, or her large bust hidden beneath her gray polyester uniform, if it meant she could retire in her forties, then it was worth it.

Officer Hudson trailed behind. He didn't really need to tag along for Judy's training. But he and Williams seemed to be buddies. And between Judy's young attractive qualities, and her curvy physique, she could take a guess as to why Hudson was lingering. Leave it to men to all be driven by the same basic urge.

"What'd you do before you became a CO?" he'd asked as a pretext to follow them.

"Bartender," she'd replied curtly. At least the inmates didn't need to conceal their intent behind bullshit questions. They just shouted their lusty thoughts through the cage bars at her as she passed. In a way, the criminals were more honest than her coworkers.

"So you've probably seen some shit then," Hudson said, twirling his key ring around his finger with a steady jingle. Their boots echoed off of the buffed floor of the cell block.

"More or less," she replied, feeling the pull of the uniform pants across her round ass as she walked. She should have gone a size larger, if for no other reason than to keep her new coworker's eyes off of her body.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Hudson teased. "Wait till you meet this freak."

Judy ignored him as Williams pushed his way through the set of man-trap style doors.

The next cell block was decidedly quieter. The lights were more subdued. There was a strange calmness to the air, despite all three officers being very aware that in this particular part of the prison, the worst of the worst were housed.

"His real name is Abernathy. We call him the 'Rain Maker'," Hudson explained.

"What's he in for?" Judy asked, not interested in campfire tales. The two senior officers were clearly just trying to scare her.

"Receiving stolen goods."

"That's it?" She was hardly impressed. "Why's he down in this wing then?"

"You'll see," Williams called over his shoulder.

"He came in for something minor, but it's the things he's done while serving that keep him here. The warden doesn't know what to do with him," Hudson said.

"Nobody does," Williams said. "He gets weirder each day."

"So does everybody who comes into contact with him." Hudson's words echoed away into silence. The wing was dead silent. Judy was no expert, but that was unusual for this time of the day in a unit full of gruff cocky deadly men. As she glanced around, she saw the faces of all the inmates. They were staring at her through their bars. All of them. Row after row, like a zoo, but on mute. Their faces fixed and their expressions haunted. They were soundless statues. She fought a chill.

Their eyes followed the trio of officers.

The three of them stopped outside of a cell door. Williams rapped the bars with his baton. "Wake up, gentlemen. We have a visitor for you."

He stepped aside so that Judy could get a better view. The cell was like any other. Stainless steel toilet and sink combination, and two beds stacked against the wall.

Two men were inside. One was rather small and unremarkable. Mousy, even. He wore thick glasses that his eyes goggled behind. A patchy goatee, and combed brown hair. He looked young, even though the guards insisted that he was well into his thirties. There was a distant look about him. The other was a towering monster of a man. Shaved head, and neck that started above his ears. His muscles strained his orange jumpsuit, and when he stood, he had to stoop so as not to scrape his head on the ceiling. He must have been over seven feet tall.

Growing up with a classic law enforcement mindset, Judy didn't have much sympathy for criminals. She believed prison ought to be as unpleasant as possible for them. But a man this big in a cell so small was like seeing an animal in a crate that was far too cramped to be anything but cruel.

The big man glowered at Judy.

"You have a lot of hair," a voice from the cell. Judy couldn't be sure which man had spoken. She hadn't seen either of their mouths move.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"Your hair. It's wild and dark. It's very full, like the mane of a lioness. It's quite striking." The voice said.

Judy's hand went reflexively to her ponytail that was draped lazily over one shoulder. She ran her hand over it. "Oh. So I've been told," she replied, her tone guarded.

"Nunez is new. She came for the show." Hudson explained to the men in the cell.

"What would she like to see? Did you come for the rain?" The voice from the cell. Judy looked from face to face. It was freaky. Neither man appeared to be talking.

"Splash her," Hudson insisted with a knowing grin.

Judy backed away and glared at her coworkers. "Listen, if this is some sort of weird hazing where something gross happens, I'd rather not be included--"

"Nothing like that," Williams insisted. "The regular convicts do enough of that shit already. This... this is something you've got to see to believe."

When Judy looked back at the cell, the mousy man in the glasses was staring at her. His thick glasses magnified his eyes as he blinked. "Trust me." He said. Then he shut his eyes and began to concentrate. All the while, the towering behemoth that was his cell mate never moved.