Hypergeniture Bk. 01 Pt. 06

"Yes, yes, yes," Tecla shouted, watching as her sister's eyes watered from the pressure. "Ohmigod, your throat is starting to bulge! Deeper, sis! You can take it deeper!"

I gripped Elle's head; not to pull her closer, but to keep her still -- to keep her calm. She appreciated the stability and used my help to try breathe through the feeling. Her nostrils flared as she went even deeper, closing her eyes and welcoming my cock as I felt the supreme tightness of her throat.

Grunting, I was ready to blow my load. My hands strengthened their grip and I firmly guided Elle all the way back, until it was just the tip left in her mouth. Then, magic, as I felt the sweet release of what must've been a small cup worth of warm cum empty from my body and shoot into the back of my little sister's eagerly waiting mouth.

Elle couldn't swallow -- wasn't ready to swallow -- and she wrestled herself away with all the sticky spunk bubbling from her mouth and running down her chin as she gasped for air.

"That was so good," I praised, making my future sister-wife smile from ear-to-ear.

Watching her twin's throat get absolutely destroyed was a special kind of pleasure for Tec... It fostered jealousy, admiration, arousal..."Can I have a taste," she asked, making me raise an eyebrow as Elle froze in response.

Before an answer could pass her sister's lips, Tec seemed to lean forward as if moving in for a cum-soaked kiss. But when Elle didn't reciprocate, Tec took the signal and turned to me; rather satisfying her hunger straight from the source as she cleaned my cock with no small amount of satisfaction on her face. She sucked and licked and kissed away all the cum she could find, along with the lingering taste of Elle's deepthroat adventure.

With that, we were spent.

"Two more sleeps until we make this our forever," Elle said.

"I can't wait."

"Neither can I..."

Our forever! If only...

55 • Point B

Valentine's Day came and we made our way to the elevator. We'd be driving together and preparing at the venue, which wasn't far from our hotel.

Everything had arranged: from the venue to the girls' outfits. All we needed to do was show up, change clothes, and enjoy the atmosphere before exchanging tokens of our new commitment to one another. I'd already pictured it all in my mind.

We all had...

Skylar met us in the penthouse lobby, calling the elevator so we could all go down to the underground parking together. As we got inside, the doors closed and the descent started. I exhaled, feeling my body grow light as we sank from the top floor down. Then, a shudder.

The elevator stopped.

A crystal-clear electronic voice spoke from a speaker above. "Emergency override. Please proceed to the nearest emergency exit."

Before I could even think, Skylar had drawn her gun and got out ahead of any danger. As the doors opened on the 11th floor, her instruction was clear.

"Stay behind me. Keep moving. If I shoot, don't stop, don't try to cover your ears, and don't look at the body."

Inhaling sharply, the danger suddenly hit. My palms were sweaty and I feared my sisters could sense my anxiety as they reached to hold on to my hands.

A screeching alarm -- broadcast at an unnatural pitch -- filled the air as Sky moved through space with choreographed precision. She knew the escape routes, having memorised them the day we picked this hotel. Sticking close to our bodyguard, she covered every corner and kept us going as we moved to make our escape.

When we reached the stairs, I got the first sense she was afraid. An attack from above, below, or both ends at once was her worst fear. She was radioing our team, getting information, and organising reinforcements. We'd been split from them, but not for long.

As more and more men joined us, my confidence built. Then, we met up with Alicia, and I knew we'd be safe.

Whatever was going on, nothing would beat her or Skylar.

Nothing. Never.

• • •

We were raced from the Wicked & Divine to what our people called 'point B.'

An unremarkable conference room, halfway across town, Point B wasn't quite an ultra-secure bunker. Still, we had three dozen armed guards protecting us with more arriving by the minute.

I'd grown used to seeing a small army around us morning, noon and night. Yet, every now and then, I wondered if this was good for the girls. Sure, these rogues we employed kept us safe, but the constant presence of guns and grunts must've provided its own kind of trauma.

Our stay at Point B seemed like it was going to last forever as we passed midnight and some security people brought in blankets as if we'd be sleeping there. Any chance at completing our ceremony had evaporated, even as Alicia finally approached with the facts of what had happened.

"The hotel fired one of their security guards about fifteen minutes before the alarm went off. We have him on CCTV going straight from the supervisor who sacked him to a control panel. Thanks to his stunt, they lost a few hundred-thousand dollars because of the evacuation..."

I actually found myself grinning, unable to hate too much on a man who fought back against the system. "Sounds like a maverick," I remarked. "But one who should go to jail, nonetheless."

"Yes, sir," Alicia agreed. "We'll follow the case and make sure he's prosecuted appropriately. In the meantime, shall we reschedule--"

Just as my chief of staff was about to finish her sentence, her phone rang. The ringtone was one reserved for the London office and she worried it might be urgent, excusing herself to take the call.

With Alicia leaving for a second, I had a chance to turn to my sisters. "Sorry about all this."

"It's okay," Elle assured.

"Yeah," Tecla echoed. "The important thing is that we're all safe. Skylar was pretty badass, whipping out her gun like that. She moved like a freakin' cat."

I agreed. "She's pretty cool, ey? They both are... In fact, I asked Alicia if she'd mind teaching you guys some self-defence techniques. Would you be interested?"

"Yes!" the girls smiled in unison, quickly getting on board with the idea.

One trick I learned over the years was the power of distraction; both for the girls and for myself. Soon, both sisters were asking if they could get guns of their own, which meant I was thankful when Alicia interrupted.

My chief of staff was wide-eyed and pale after her call. It was the look that came with genuine surprise, rather than one that came from shock. Yes, it was an expression of bafflement and amazement, and she struggled to find the right words...

"Sir, do you know Felix--"

"Felix?!" I cheered, not even needing Alicia to finish his name. "Of course I know Felix! He was my best friend in Switzerland. We were roommates at boarding school. His dad is president of--"

"I just spoke to him on the phone," Alicia interrupted, still not quite believing the conversation she'd just had with the son of one of the world's most notorious dictators.

Remembering my old friend, I couldn't believe that he'd reached out. Felix and I were close, but hadn't seen each other since I graduated nine years ago.

Alicia lowered her voice. "He says... He says they want to talk to you about Edward Sardonis. And that you should fly over there as soon as possible."

"Who's Edward Sardonis?" Tecla asked, with Elle soon repeating the question. At first, I wanted to scold Alicia for letting the name slip in their presence, but I thought better of it.

I had an old friend out there who wanted to help. The time for secrets was fast coming to an end.

There was no way around it -- not when my life was on the line. I had to share the facts with my sisters; for their sake and my own. Accepting what had to happen next, I made up my mind. They'd be coming with me... Together, we'd hear what Felix had to say.

"Look's like we're skipping the wedding and going straight on an island honeymoon..."

Alicia nodded. "Indeed, sir. I'll have the plane prepped... If they have a big enough runway."

"You don't know Felix," I said. "He'll build one if he has to."

56 • El Presidente

Having finally arrived from Texas, we met the twins' friend, Amanda, on the plane. She was happy to see us and unhappy to be ignored, considering the girls had other things on their mind.

"Where the hell are we going?" she asked, having developed a bit of an American accent after moving from Canada to the States. Her dream career was to go become a big-time cheerleader.

She got the gig and looked the part.

Amanda was a dirty-blonde with curly hair that fell to her shoulders, a petite frame, and a dancer's body. Her hips were always moving, always swaying, and always inviting trouble... She oozed sex appeal along with arrogance -- preferring raw personality over gentle charm.

The truth was that I judged Amanda. Yet, even I was moved by the disappointment in her eyes as her old best friends seemed too preoccupied for her.

I encouraged Tecla and Elle to have fun, show Mandy the plane, and get rest. Meanwhile, I could sit with Alicia and Skylar as we plotted what would happen once we were on the ground. We retreated to one of the several sitting areas, making sure no one was around as we discussed our plans.

"So, Debbie Does Dallas is coming along for the ride?" Skylar asked, clearly drooling a little over the presence of our new guest.

Nodding, I explained that we'd want Amanda to stay on the plane as we made our way to the presidential palace. Felix had been talking to our London office and to Alicia, so I was still in the dark about some arrangements.

"Is the old man going to be there?"

"The president will be there," Alicia answered. "Have you met him before?"

"No. They let Felix study in Switzerland, but they'd have never let his father into European airspace. He must be almost a hundred..."

"Almost, sir."

Soon, we were over the Caribbean, looking down at beautiful oceans and tropical isles. Our destination was grand -- its white beaches and palm trees serving as an incredible distraction from the serious business at hand. Business of murder and spies.

Our flight was quick and we landed at a relatively modern looking airport that had recently been upgraded in an effort to boost tourism. A man in full military dress enthusiastically greeted us as we disembarked. He was accompanied by the foreign minister and about a dozen more officers dressed in their full ceremonial gear. Two young ladies offered flowers to my sisters as a fleet of classic limousines in jet-black waited to take us further.

Skylar insisted that our people remain in control of our own vehicles and they conceded. She took the passenger seat while our regular driver sat beside her. He was a good guy who drove well, but I missed Isabelle. She'd be with us again soon, but not soon enough. I wanted to phone her again, but there always seemed to be something else on my mind.

As we squeezed into the back of our car, I teased my sisters. "You make very convincing billionaire's wives."

The girls smiled with Tec sticking out her tongue at me as they tried to find comfortable positions in the cramped space. We'd managed to have a talk about our father, Sardonis, and the plot against me. If they had questions, they weren't ready to ask them. But I had a feeling they wouldn't be asking any... After all, they barely knew our father, which might have been a blessing if the stories I'd heard were true.

As we set off on our journey, truckloads of soldiers travelled with us: at least five large military vehicles with more than a dozen female soldiers on each. I suspect the gender composition was a nod from the government to my preference for women as bodyguards. Clearly, they didn't just want to cooperate on the threat against me -- they also wanted to impress -- aiming to get some of my money for their embattled economy.

The only thing I truly cared about was the information they could offer. Thoughts of business were secondary, soon to be tertiary, and fast fading from my list of priorities.

It was a short drive to the president's residence. The building itself was large, but the gardens were what dominated the space. The white stucco walls of the palace reminded me of old movies and we had a view of the capital in all its splendour; beautiful, albeit aged and poor.

This was a place trapped decades long before the present. For some, it worked. For others, it was a living hell.

Antique wooden furniture gave the home a distinct smell. Not unpleasant, but heavy on the lungs and throat. We were led into a large dining room packed with politicians, diplomats, and soldiers. My old friend Felix was there to welcome me with great big smile and a bear-hug.

"You look good!" I said, noticing his long hair and clear complexion.

"Not as good as you, my friend!" Felix answered, doing his best to hide his private school English from the politburo men in the room.

"Oh, c'mon," I insisted. "No need to flatter me. I know I've had a rough few weeks!"

Felix laughed and slapped me on the back. "Rough, ey? Well, perhaps we can improve your life a little. You've not met my father..."

Suddenly, there was silence as we realised we were already in the presence of one of the world's most notorious men. The old man smiled at us; his eyes bright and alert even as his hair thinned. He looked nothing like I'd expected and was wearing a casual shirt with half the buttons undone. Yet, despite this appearance, he clearly commanded total respect from the people in the room.

With a friendly wave, El Presidente invited us to take our seats. He leaned forward in his chair, slightly parting his lips. But it was the man on his left that started talking.

"We provided shelter to Edward Sardonis when he was fleeing from the West," he explained, getting straight to business. "To say the least, he abused our generosity, and we would like to remedy the fact."

Alicia cleared her throat, taking a seat next to me. "So, we have a mutual interest in finding him."

The man to the left nodded. "The unfortunate thing is that we know very little about where Sardonis is now. But we can confirm that Mr Orwell's father--"

Felix stopped the man before he could finish. "Sorry, I would like this matter to be treated with more sensitivity..."

The man on the left accepted the intervention and let my friend speak.

"Look, Oliver, I don't know what your people have been able to figure out, but I think you know there's more to your father's death than previously believed."

My back straightened. "Yes... We had an idea, but we don't have specifics."

Felix looked to his father, and his father looked to the man on his right. This man was older, with bad teeth and almost no hair, but a head full of memories. He insisted on speaking Spanish, but I could keep up (and I knew Alicia could too).

"Your father worked for Elizabeth Wharry while she was involved with Sardonis. He would've seen their romantic relationship, knowing it was the reason they were willing to adopt you. He may have spent private time with Sardonis, which is where we believe he learned of a deadly secret."

"A deadly secret?" I asked.

At this stage, Felix chimed back in from the head of the table. "Oliver, we are quite certain Sardonis wanted to kill you too. We know about the nightclub attack and we can produce definitive proof that Sardonis ordered the operation. So, what does he think you have that could make him want to destroy you?"

I was lost for words. "Nothing. I have no clue why the man would want me dead. Maybe my father left it somewhere... Maybe Wharry broke a deal... I... I don't know, Felix. My people are looking for--"

Alicia put a hand on my arm and stopped me talking. "Let's be clear on one thing: we can't share information with you. Quite simply, your state remains a pariah and intelligence sharing would undermine our commercial interests. You will have to help us unconditionally."

The left-man replied, "No."

"Then it's a no from our side as well."

The declaration was clear and a line was drawn in the sand.

Not having expected things to fall apart so quickly, the room was stunned to a silence. Except for one man...

Slowly, the president started clapping his hands as the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger. After he was done applauding Alicia's gusto, he reached out and pointed his finger at me before speaking loud and clear; berating his ministers and advisors for what he considered unforgivable rudeness. "This is my son's friend! Understand?! Unconditional support for him! Unconditional support!"

The old man seemed a little senile, but that didn't diminish his stature among these people. Everyone on the other side of the table quickly took their instruction, without even a whiff of resistance. With the order given, they would give us whatever we wanted. No strings attached.

It seemed El Presidente liked me because of the way I treated his son all those years ago...

I wish I could say I went toe-to-toe with Felix's bullies and beat them back. I wish I'd helped him adjust and gave him answers when he needed them most. But that wasn't what happened.

No, what I did for Felix was far less remarkable and not at all heroic.

His first week at boarding school was hell. Teachers and students alike detested him for who his father was. Girls mocked him because his teeth were a little crooked. Boys pointed out that he's a bastard who doesn't know his own mother.

Felix was told he doesn't belong there and he was made to feel it... They hazed him harshly, even though hazing was forbidden and most of us never endured it. The teachers looked the other way and even the cooks spat in his food.

Perhaps his father's sins meant Felix deserved it, but I judged the man based on his own merits -- not on his father's biography.

We shared a room from the beginning: two twin beds in a large suite that shared a bathroom with only two other rooms. On his third night, I heard Felix cry. Until then, I hadn't paid much attention to him. My plan at school was to keep my head down and get back to taking care of my sisters, and not to get involved in other people's fights.

That night, I found Felix sitting on the floor clutching his pillow and crossing his legs to hide his stained pants...

He'd wet his bed out of fear and depression -- anxiety and uncertainty. When I asked him what happened, he couldn't even put together a sentence, but I saw the way he held his pillow... The same way I'd seen Elle hold hers when she was a little baby, crying over a missing teddy bear.

Knowing the cleaners would find the urine-stained blankets and the rumour would spread, I had to make a plan. Felix was already pushed to his limit and more ridicule would surely have killed the poor kid. There was no chance of me sneaking down to the laundry, so I had to think of something else.

I swapped our sheets so they thought it was me who wet the bed. Sure, I caught hell for it, but it lasted two weeks before blowing over (and I could take it on the chin).

When I'd been sent to Switzerland, little Elle gave me one of her soft toys as a going away present. The next evening, I retrieved it from my closet and gave it to Felix. I told him, "Real men don't give a shit about what people think. They do what they need to do to survive and make their families proud. I'm not going to judge you for crying, or pissing your bed, or for needing a teddy bear. I won't think you're less of a man, and I'll keep your secret."

Felix asked teenage-me how I knew about being a 'real man' and I told him I learnt from having to fill my father's shoes. In truth, I was young and didn't have a clue. Still, what I'd done and said really made an impression on him and clearly he'd told his father at least some of it.