Some Kind of Tragedy Pt. 04

For some damn reason. Don't know why I'm qualified to... the hell?

No time flat. Herbie had barely begun walking the alley next to the stadium before his trained carpenter's eye saw it, a façade to a "residence" that no contractor in existence would have signed off on. Oh, it would have stood up to a few knocks by police as they canvassed the area, but no one could move in and out of it every day and still have a door in place after a couple months. It was slipshod, ramshackle dreck... only good enough to hide something. Call it instinct, or just confidence, but there was no doubt in his mind that he'd found his target.

As big as he was, Herbie still knew how to be quiet when he needed to, a skill learned sneaking out of many a girl's home ahead of her angry father over the years. He managed to get to that fake entryway and slide the door open to make his way inside, stopping to grab an old table leg so he'd have some kind of weapon. Then, into the den.

Inside, it smelled like grime, sweat, and despair. After his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was basically in a burnt-out apartment lobby. Apparently the predator had taken advantage of some urban decay and laid claim to a place forgotten by both city officials and neighborhood residents. The man was secure too, he didn't bother to hide his tracks. Herbie had no problem following the trail of shredded and discarded clothing to a side room where walls had been torn down to make more space, peering inside quietly, his movements covered by the loud sounds of grunting in the corner. That wasn't nearly as concerning, though, as what he saw right before him. Lit only by a flickering television set to the nightly news, a series of cages were set against the wall, most of them filled. With people.

Herbie felt sick. Women of all stripes, as well as some effeminate-looking men, apparently, were huddled inside, eyes glazed and staring at nothing, like they were on low-power mode waiting to be woken up. Gritting his teeth, the big man inched over to the first cage, which seemed to be the most recently used. Inside, an amazingly beautiful woman with tanned skin and disheveled golden hair was staring at him, the eyes above the ball-gag in her mouth boring into him intently. She had been struggling with cuffs on her wrists and ankles, but stopped when she saw him, motioning with her head to come near.

"You must be the consultant." Herbie's low whisper was more than drowned out by the sounds coming from the other side of the room. He pulled out the lock-pick kit he'd carried with him for years, got the cage open, and popped the cuffs on the woman, though it looked like she had been well on her way to doing it herself.

"Handy." The woman rubbed her wrists, but didn't get to her feet. "A lot like me." Her weak smile was strained and painful. "I'm... Mini." A fake name, but Herbie didn't care much either way. "And you're Herb. I was told you might be brought into this."

"Herbie, but whatever. So what's the plan?"

"Plan? My plan was to make plans, but that went out the window when this asshole snuck up on me and broke my leg." Mini gestured to his makeshift club. "Now, you'll have to finish him off, but not with that. That man is way too much of a slab for it to dependably get the job done. See that table? There's a whole bunch of knives there. That's what's gonna get you through the freak's hide."

Sensing there was no time to waste with deliberation, Herbie just nodded and tiptoed over to the table, snatching up a particularly wicked specimen of cutlery there. Then, it was time to do the work. He slid over towards the other side of the room, putting his target in sight, and immediately wishing he'd been able to come at a different time.

Right then, the man was in the middle of his own work. He was big, bigger even than Herbie, tawny-haired, and wearing nothing but a golden, furred-collared coat he must have been inordinately proud of to keep in in the midst of what he was doing. Who he was doing. With is back against the wall, huffing and grunting like a jungle cat, the man had his meaty paws around the slim waist of a young, athletic, supple-skinned girl, bobbing her up and down on his cock to an accompaniment of her own mewling while she hung on to the furry collar for dear life. Yet another, clad in panties and long, white nylons, blonde hair done up in a loose ponytail, knelt before him, her tongue darting in to run along the slick skin of his penis every time he raised his partner up.

Neither of the two seemed overly distressed, but Herbie knew that meant nothing. Everyone could break, and, once broken, there was nothing left but adaptation and survival. If that meant actively participating in your own enslavement... so be it.

"Unf! Gonna eat you alive, little girl!" The beast took hold of the athlete's bare breast and squeezed, eliciting a cry from her before he popped her hard little nipple in his mouth. "Gonna make you one of my bitches!"

"Oooh..." She groaned and laced her fingers in his thick, wild mane. "I... mmm... I just... just want my... my brother to be... shiiiit..."

"Your brother's pretty like a bitch too. My bitch. With that hair grown out, and in that sexy little get up... he won't be any different than the rest of ya. My parents taught me a long time ago that a hole is a hole, and everything around it is just a welcome sign. 'Course, you're gonna have to have double the babies to make up for him..." Beneath them, the one tonguing their joined crotches froze, quivering.

The college girl must have been really fucked in the head, because when she looked down at the licker, something about the sight put her right over the edge, setting her to driving down hard on the cock skewering her as she cried out in bliss. Her captor flashed a brown-toothed smile and pumped up into her, filling her with a roar. Done with her then, he tossed the taut body away to let her stew in her aftershocks, then snatched up the other by the ponytail, hauling her up to face him.

Hauling him up, in actuality. The young man was pretty, Herbie couldn't deny that; done up with subtle make up and clad in the stockings and women's underwear, it was no wonder he'd mistaken the boy for a girl. It was more than enough for the kidnapper, at any rate, and the man wasted no time in shoving his newest victim's face down to the floor and kneeling behind him. He made sure not to rip the panties as he shifted them aside.

"Yer sister lubed me up real good. You should thank her after this." The beast began to play with his prey, running his fat cockhead up and down the boy's shuddering sphincter, reveling in his victim's whimpering cries.

A hiss brought Herbie out of his funk, and he turned to look at Mini in the cage. "They're drugged! Snap out of it and do the job!"

Shaking his head, the big man crept forward. There was no real drama to it, no tense build up. The monster, besides having his back to the room as he prepared to rut with the caterwauling young man, was in his own world anyway, and never heard Herbie coming. The appropriated knife stabbed down, piercing that yellow coat easily, again and again. The man bellowed in agony and surprise... and then it was over. It doesn't matter how evil someone is; a knife to the back is a knife to the back.

After that, Herbie set about freeing everyone from their cages, but, except for Mini, they were all drugged to the gills and completely unresponsive. The intelligent, golden-haired woman told him that they would recover, that only the two athletic siblings were in real danger. "That madman dosed them with something he shouldn't have had access to. You'll have to help them."

"Me? You know what it is, why can't you—"

"I'm not equipped." She frowned in distaste. "Or inclined. Just go over to them. You'll see." When he continued his reluctance, Mini narrowed her eyes. "You are under contract, are you not?"

Herbie didn't like that she knew so much more about him than he did about her, but she wasn't wrong. This was his problem to fix, so he did as he was bid. He approached the naked, shivering pair, finally getting a good look at them in the beam of light that shined through the grimy window above. "Holy shit... Prya? Jon?" He was utterly dumbfounded. Laying before him, freshly ravaged, were the children of his half-brother. His own niece and nephew. How can they possibly be here now?

Prya looked up at him and licked her lips wantonly, and without a hint of recognition in her eyes. Without a hint of much of anything, really, except unabashed lust. Herbie hated himself for it, but the sight of his eighteen-year-old nice, just last month accepted into university with a sports scholarship, made his mouth run dry. Her perky breasts, her taut, rippling stomach, the smooth, tanned legs that seemed to go up to her neck...

For the love of god, stop you freak. You babysat them when they were in grade school! They idolize you!

That and more, now, if the fingers tugging at his zipper while they simultaneously stroked the outline of his erection through his pants was any indicator. He looked down just in time to see Jon free his cock, just in time to do nothing as his lithe, incredibly feminine nephew ran his tongue up and down it, and just in time to groan deeply when the twenty-year-old popped the mushroom head right in and began swirling it in his mouth.

Behind him, Mini was explaining how the drug was actually compelling the pair to fuck, that it caused irreparable changes to their brain chemistry if they didn't get a release. As he laced his fingers through Jon's silky blonde hair, he forced his focus on one thought... It's my job.

The next time Herbie's head cleared enough to really take note of himself, he found his position very changed. He was bent over Jon, his dick having taken the place of the kidnapper who was rotting in the corner as he slammed his hips forward again and again into that panty-clad, smooth, gropeable butt, growling his need. The kid squeezed him like a fucking vice while he made his own sounds of satisfaction, which were in turn muffled by his sister's pussy while it enveloped his face. Herbie became vaguely aware that, nearby, someone was making her own lusty noises, and he turned his head to see Mini with her trousers around her knees, fingers deep in her own snatch, her shirt and bra up to expose one flawless tit so she could pinch the nipple harshly.

"Punish it... oh, god, punish that ass—" When she noticed that Herbie was wiggling his eyebrows invitingly at her, she hastily readjusted her clothing and shook her head once, firmly shutting down any notions of turning the tryst into a four-way.

Too bad. She's goddamn beautifffffuuuck! Herbie spasmed on top of his nephew as he unloaded himself deep inside. It was a like a Rube Goldberg machine then, as his orgasm triggered Jon to lurch with his own climax, which in turn set Prya to screaming out joyously as she shoved her pussy hard into her brother's mouth. That was when reality finally caught up to them, and all three collapsed in sweaty, naked heap.

Herbie came to first, after only a minute or so, to see Mini covering his niece and nephew up, giving them some dignity. "Thanks for that. And your help. Everything, really." She smiled at him, but said nothing. "Don't suppose you're gonna fill me in on any of this? Who you are and how you know me? Why, coincidentally, this fucker kidnapped my family, even as I was looking for him?"

Mini looked sympathetic. "Believe it or not, I feel a kinship with you, and I hope you come out of your troubles intact. But I'm forbidden to do much more than give you advice. As to why Prya and Jon are here... well, let's say that your family is tied up with others that have... agendas. A lot of agendas." She nodded over to the corner and the heap cooling there. "But now's not the time for all that. You need to show that the job is done." She looked back down on the two youngsters. "I'll take care of them, don't worry."

Herbie wanted to scream. He wanted to yell. He wanted to force this woman to reveal all her secrets... but he was just too goddamned tired, and he needed his strength for something else. So he got up, dusted off, made himself presentable, and got on with it.

­­­__________

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" Eugene cried out in disgust, perhaps understandably, when the bloody carcass was dropped down on his desk. The man actually scurried up and his behind his office chair. "What the fuck is this?"

"This is my first job done." Herbie poked the kidnapper's dead body. "Proof. Your predator is dealt with."

"Fuck, take it to the cops! What's wrong with you?"

"Not my job. Like I said, my job's done. Now give me the next one so I can get this shit over with." Herbie felt dirty and angry, and not at all inclined to humor Eugene's cowardice.

His cousin grimaced and moved back to the desk, opening a drawer to get a file out. "Here then. I've been told... well, anyway. This is it."

Without a word, Herbie snatched up the info and left, hoping this time things wouldn't be quite so disturbing.

__________

"All right, you know the plan?" Herbie tried not to let his frustration show, but it was hard.

"Yeah, pops, we got it. Go in, one-by-one, and get the bouncers out of there." The garishly done-up woman... technically by age, if not by demeanor... winked at him. "Then you'll fuck 'em."

"Fuck 'em up." Herbie squeezed his eyes shut. "I have to take them out so I can get to—"

"Sure man, whatever you have to tell yourself."

Months ago, when he'd been given his second task, Herbie was sure that things couldn't be worse than that first one. That was before he had to deal with a gaggle of hookers in order to get done what had to be done. That was before he was standing outside the nightclub, inexplicably called Anyone, intending to... force a change in ownership. Unfortunately, this was the best plan he could come up with, and so he had to deal with these annoyingly-young girls and their flaming egos to even get close to his goal. Them, and their old ass pimp who seemed to do nothing but complain.

"God it's too hot out. Sticky. And my leg is actin' up." The old coot tapped his cane on the sidewalk. "How long is this gonna take? Even the money you're promisin' ain't worth all this. Oh, and if anything happens to my babies, I'm gonna—"

"What? You're gonna what, you crabby old bastard?" Herbie wheeled around, looming large in the man's face. "Just shut up. You're distracting me."

The man grew quiet, though still mumbled about having friends in high places that would show Herbie what's what. Herbie ignored him and set about executing his plan. In the girls went, utilizing their barely-there clothing, along with every trick they'd learned on the streets to catch the eyes of the six bouncers that kept him from the head of the entire outfit. Herbie had to admit, the girls did a good job, and he was proud of himself for picking right. Well, all except one of them who, ironically, was the best looking. She was as young as the rest, and her hair was dyed a vibrant blue, but she was more fresh-faced, and a bit shy around him. Like she wasn't sure if she should flaunt her wares or not. It was odd, but not important then. There were more than enough other professionals to get the job done.

It wasn't long before the first made her catch, coming out of a side door into the alley, and hanging on the arm of a burly man in a too-tight t-shirt. As they began fooling around, Herbie stole up on them and easily knocked the bouncer out with the bat he'd brought with him, much to the girl's giggling delight. Herbie was proud. This shit's working out real well. Who'd have thought?

The act was repeated again and again, five more times, each going as smoothly as the first, leading to a pile of unconscious bodies propped up on the wall of Club Anyone. It was time to go in... or so he thought, before a hand took him by the arm and held him back.

"There's more." The shy, pretty hooker with the wild blue hair adjusted her tight, crop-topped blouse and pointed inside. "A lot more."

Incredulous, Herbie hopped up on a dumpster lid and took a look in a window. He expected only the doorman to still be up and kicking, but instead saw a slew of other bouncers roaming the periphery of the dance floor. It was like, for every one he took out, two more had taken their place. He swore, loudly, starting to despair.

"I can help you." The pretty one rubbed his massive arm comfortingly. "I'm supposed to help you." When Herbie looked at her with confusion, she blushed. "I'm here because of Al... um... Mini. You remember her... uncle Herbie."

He stared hard at the girl, his mind turning in circles before it finally clicked. "Jon? What... what happened to you?" His eyes moved up and down his nephew's graceful, willowy form; the form that came complete with a mouth-watering pair of tits, now. "You got a... and now you're a... a prostitute? Oh Jon, please say it ain't so."

Jon looked incredibly affronted. "No I'm not a hooker! Look, when you put out feelers for help, this pimp asshole was purposely foisted on you by interested parties. You were never going to succeed with just them. Mini found me and sent me to infiltrate them. To help you." Jon's hand kept rubbing, his fingers massaging Herbie's incredible muscles. "I... really want to help you."

"Wha... why..." Herbie had so many questions. "Why are you working for Mini?"

"She helped me. Gave me what I never knew I wanted... until that night with you." Jon blushed again, and it was downright adorable. "I remember what you did for me. To me. Even if Prya doesn't. You woke something up in me, and Mini and her... people helped make me into what I was always supposed to be. Now I'm returning the favor, though I would have come to you even if I wasn't. You saved me." She raised herself up on her tiptoes, closer to his face, and he found himself leaning down. "Oh, and it's Iola now, not Jon."

The whisper barely preceded the deep, slow kiss Herbie's nephew... niece... planted on his lips, which he didn't hesitate in returning. As he slid his big hand up her blouse and ran a thumb over her pebbled nipple, he knew it was wrong in so, so many ways... and it was the hottest thing to ever happen to him. Iola whimpered into his mouth and hiked a sculpted leg, which was covered in a leather boot from curled toes to firm thigh, up around Herbie's waist, grinding her crotch into his.

No surprise package this time. Herbie grunted and grabbed his niece's ass with both hands, even while hers were frantically unbuckling his pants. In no time flat, thanks to a lack of undergarments beneath her leather skirt, Herbie was fully hilted inside Iola's pristine new vagina, supporting her weight easily with his arms.

She gasped like she'd been doused with cold water, pulling back and looking deep into his eyes like she couldn't quite believe it was real. She leaned forward and bit his lip playfully. "You're my first, uncle Herbie. My real first."

She squeezed his cock with her lower muscles, massaging him within her to prove what she was now. He groaned and slammed up into her harder, faster, over and over, feeling a compulsion to claim her completely. Belongs to me... No one else has had her... He flipped her top up to free those perfectly formed breasts, latching onto one hard little nipple and biting lightly, forcing a gasp and moan from Iola.

The girl shook hard and sudden as her orgasm swept over her quickly, surprising them both. She tried to wrap her thin arms around his broad back, and had to settle for digging her fingers into his shoulder blades when she found she couldn't clasp her hands together. Her legs flailed helplessly in the air as her taut ass quivered on his hips, and she bit down hard on Herbie's shoulder to muffle her throaty screams.