Some Kind of Tragedy Pt. 05

Herbie tried to smile. "I just... umm..." Whatever self-deprecating thing he was going to say went out the window the second that Ecaterina slipped out of her drab smock and threw it to the side. Her exposed body wasn't on par with someone like April's, but she had a kind of sleek quality to her that was utterly unique. Like her slithery legs and sinewy arms, her torso was long and lithe, leanly toned. Her unabashedly exposed breasts were, at first glance, almost non-existent, but on further, eager examination, you could see that they protruded from her chest subtly, in a way that lent itself to a kind of delicate elegance that was lacking in the oversized fun-bags of so many more traditional women. When she writhed on top of her nonplussed savior, they trembled deliciously. Empoweringly, if Herbie's reaction was anything to go by.

"Show me your strength." Ecaterina licked her lips again with her long, long tongue. "Show me the hands and arms, the heart and soul that ended my torment." She dipped her head down and shoved that monster of a tongue down his throat, nearly making him gag. She wasn't content with that, though, and began working her surprisingly strong thighs and heels in concert to get his pants off, all without once unhooking her ankles. She knew she'd accomplished her goal when Herbie's beefy cock was freed and smacked up hard on her taut ass.

Not giving him a say in the matter, not even the ability to utter a word with her tongue practically filling his entire head and her arms squeezing the life out of his neck, she snaked herself down and impaled herself on him, taking him slowly, devouring him inch-by-sumptuous-inch. It wasn't until Herbie was fully inside her that she finally let him breathe, unwrapping her arms from around him and pulling her face away from his so she could bend her back in a nearly-perfect C-shape, her pointed nipples jutting up to the ceiling as she gave a staccato trill of delight.

Unwilling, or even perhaps unable to unwrap him from her legs, Ecaterina writhed on top of him like the madwoman she was, frantic and animalistic with an atavistic lust that she was driven to sate. Arms still in the air, flailing like strings blown in the wind, she shimmied her entire body at once, her only leverage being the strength in her thighs. All the while, her tongue slathered her lips, and she was helpless to stop the hisses of passion escaping in-between.

At one point, when he managed to gather himself despite the insanity of the fucking he was receiving, Herbie wrapped his hands around her slim hips and began pile-driving her light frame downward, hard, growling himself like a beast. Ecaterina went from sounding like she'd sprung a leak to screeching like a teakettle at a boil, the high-pitched noise actually forcing Homer to turn down the volume when his ears rang.

That seemed enough for Herbie too, and he pistoned himself up and into her further than he'd been, groaning his release inside her. For her part, Ecaterina finally looked back down at him while she undulated her hips a few more times, her breath hissing once again from behind her clenched teeth. She shuddered as she took what he was giving her, then finally, almost tragically, uncoiled her legs from around him and fell forward, her boneless, slick skin flush against his brawny frame.

With Herbie softening inside her, Ecaterina slithered up one last time and whispered something in his ear, something that caused his eyes to go very big with surprise. Homer cursed himself as he jumped at the volume control, but it was too late; whatever secret she'd said was out and gone. Intel gained and mission accomplished, Herbie, with surprising gentleness, picked his great-aunt up and laid her down on the bed. He gave a chaste kiss to her forehead as she started to drift off, and left the room with a promise to get her out of that place as soon as humanly possible.

Herbie, still reeling from a series of surprises in a very short amount of time, made his way back to Penelope and Melinda, barging into the room without a second's hesitation. When Penelope lifted her head from in-between her daughter's legs and shot him a glare that could stop a small animal's heart, the big man hastily began to back out. Above, Melinda kept her fingers in her mother's curls and smiled at him. "You seem like one of the nice ones. I... unnngh... I just wish you weren't... oh mommmyyy... weren't imaginary."

That little affirmation out of the way, Penelope got to her feet, pulling up her daughter with her by the hand. The last Herbie saw of them before he vacated the hospital was Melinda giggling while her mother started a slow striptease to divest herself of her airy sundress.

__________

Homer was cranky then, for a whole day. On the feeds, he forced himself to watch Tyson and Zed duking it out in the courtroom, needing to stay caught up on how the war was going. Point and counter-point, sly legalese being thrown by lawyers and their clients alike, document after document being wielded like weapons, whipped out like lightning bolts; it was a law student's wet dream, and infinitely tedious to the professional voyeur.

Eventually they broke for the day, with each side going to their home bases. Tyson left with the biggest shit-eating grin in creation plastered to his face, immediately whipping out his phone to give someone some good news. Zed, on the other hand, was a thunderhead, his face a storm of fury and embarrassment. Listening in when the man was on his phone, Homer picked up a name; Hez, and a few words about massive disappointment. That done, the CEO sped off in his limousine, heading for home.

Switching to a new camera cluster, Homer followed Zed into the house and through the living room. Along the way, he stopped, very reluctantly, to chat with his and Helen's last child; their daughter, Heby. For probably the hundredth time, Homer shook his head at the weird name. It wasn't a nickname, as the eighteen-year-old's birth certificate could attest to, and it was purposely chosen by Helen as soon as she found out she was pregnant nearly two decades before. Maybe it was a family name, from back when Helen was in her adopted household. When she was just a Smith. He wouldn't have taken her for nostalgic in the slightest, but stranger things had happened.

Heby never seemed to mind, though growing up with both the looks and the wealth of her family shielding her from normal childhood ridicule probably didn't hurt. Honestly though, Homer felt an unearned stab of pride when it came to her. He'd watched her grow up as a, well, good person, in all honesty. With lusty, indifferent Zed for a dad, and bitter, angry Helen for a mom, Heby should have turned out to be dour and depressed, like her sister Angela, or arrogance personified like the twins, Enya and Aron. Maybe take a page from her next oldest sister, Eileen, and settle into a cynical cycle of fucking strangers, getting knocked up, and popping out a kid to give away. Instead, she was a hard working athlete who earned everything she got, was fair and giving to others, cheerful, and never stopped trying to better herself.

Case in point; the huge trophy in the shape of a gold cup she was holding out to her father excitedly, hoping for more than the usual empty congratulation and pat on her golden-brown hair. Of course, once she got her perfunctory pat and congrat, and Zed moved on by, the teenager pressed her lips together, wiped her eyes, and vacated the room with her fancy cup barely hanging in her hand.

Feeling for the kid, but still more interested in the drama, Homer opened a screen into the bedroom that Zed and Helen barely shared. She was in there, sitting at her bureau in her bra and panties, combing her still lustrous hair. Once in awhile, Homer wondered, if he were a different man, what he could have gotten from busty, desirous Helen Tellus when she came to him for dirt on Zed. As it was, a promise to deter any nosy family members, and to ignore what she knew had to be a constant intrusion on her life, were more than payment enough for him. Still, looking at the mounds nearly bursting her brassiere, and remembering the small, taunting shows she would sometimes put on for the camera and the camera alone... he wondered.

"I need you to be useful." Zed didn't even bother with a hello as he burst into the room. "I'm dying out there because your son can't handle his job anymore."

"My son?" Helen stood, and a combination of gravity and outrage set her more than ample chest to swaying like she was on a boat. "Hezekiah? You're the one who let him... um, who gave him all that..."

Zed cut her off with a gesture. "Whatever. Blame enough to go around. He's dropped the ball, and I need you to pick it up."

"I already helped you!" Helen pointed an angry finger at him. "Remember! I told you about... about him... about how your love-child always lands on his feet, even back when all I wanted in the world was to make him regret he'd ever been born!" She stomped closer, jiggling even harder. "And he's worked out, right? Your illegitimate errand boy? Your new pride and—"

"It's not enough! Maybe if we had another year, Herbie could..." Zed let out a breath. "It doesn't matter. We're almost out of time, and I need you to play interference. Be a distraction." He began pacing around the room. "I've been... throwing out ideas. Ideas that will have reached Tyson by now." He stopped, visibly gathering his courage to face his wife. "Ideas about you."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Helen cocked her head at him, studying him and his thinly-veiled chagrin. "Wait... you're not saying I have to... to..." The color drained from her flawless skin.

"No! No, not... that. Not all that. Just... you have to make him think..."

The back and forth between the couple lasted over an hour, but, in the end, Helen had no choice but to capitulate, nodding impatiently when it was clear she'd lost the fight, and agreeing to her husband's plan. A world away, Homer could only give a low whistle. This is going to be interesting.

__________

The alert finally went off, and Homer jumped into his station like a kid at Christmas. Herbie was on the move, and that move was to a completely unexpected place. Apparently, Ecaterina really was saner than she seemed. She'd done just what Althea and the others had hoped; she'd led them to the real source of... everything.

Herbie and Althea approached the ornate door cautiously, warily. Homer's cameras showed a beautiful day in the country; sunny, full of birdsong, set against the backdrop of crashing waves of the nearby coast. The cottage they were coming to would be a mansion to anyone but a Tellus, but it was still homey and comfortable looking. It was enough for anyone not in the know to wonder why the siblings looked like they were marching to the underworld itself.

It's because they finally realize what they're truly up against. What they have to face.

Their knock at the door was answered, after a long moment, by someone who looked amazed to see the pair of them. Amazed, then overjoyed. "My grandbabies!" Rhianna Tellus, still called little Rhia by members of her own generation, finished tying up her silk robe and threw her arms around Althea and Herbie. After a second of getting an awkward return, she pulled back, a hand over her mouth. "Oh, wait..." She looked at Althea with wide eyes. "Does he know? Did I just spill all the beans?"

"I know... Grandma Rhia." Herbie shuffled his feet. It was obvious why he had a hard time saying it; before him stood his father's mother, and she looked like she could be his older sister. With only a few strands of silver in her dark hair, sporting the same pinchable, petite, firm body, and possessed of wrinkles that could only be spotted with a magnifying glass, the woman was, frankly, nearly as gorgeous as the day her brother Craig took over the company... and took her as well. On the outside. Her life had changed a lot since then, though.

Still, she was happiness personified as she ushered her grandchildren into her home. "Have a seat, I'll get mom and mas... uh, Uncle Tarrence out here. They'll want to say hello to you two!"

Althea and Herbie waited uncomfortably while Rhia scurried to the back of the house, her short robe flapping as her pert rump bounced. The siblings looked at each other silently, each taking a deep breath, preparing for what was next. In very little time, Rhia returned, followed by Gail, her silky, shoulder-length, snow-white hair looking a bit disheveled as she tried to adjust her green nightie over a pair of breasts that were at least the equal of Helen's. If Herbie was taken aback at the condition of his grandmother, the sight of his great-grandmother made his jaw drop. Besides the faded color of her hair, and a small, nearly inconsequential spider web of crow's feet around her green eyes, the woman was a picture of vitality; with a firm stomach, straight spine, strong limbs, and only gently-sagging bosom. All this at over seventy years old... the unmatched Tellus genetics exemplified by the family matriarch herself.

Behind both women, on the other hand, was the living embodiment of contrast. Not that Tarrence Tellus was decrepit and withered, just the opposite, in fact; the man, though carrying a good dollop of extra weight, made for an imposing presence. Not any taller than his sister and niece, he nonetheless was a hulking, muscular figure, giving the impression that his width rivaled his height. More than anything, though, the aforementioned contrast came with the eyes. While Gail and Rhia's were bright and inquisitive, clear and forthright, Tarrence's were piercing wells of darkness that no one would fail to see were trying to swallow everything they fell on, and that sought to punish any and every one that crossed him.

Of course, this was all a backdrop to the fact that, unlike his sister and niece, he didn't bother putting any covering on when he became aware of the arrival of guests, and was striding out of his bedroom as naked as the day he was born. The cherry on top? The man's thick, bulbous cock was still half-erect, and glistening from tip to taint with moisture. When he and his sister stopped in the living room, and he idly, almost unconsciously moved next to Gail to run his hand possessively up under the hem of her nightie to slip two fingers into her twat, it became all too clear what trio had been doing when Herbie and Althea arrived. When he locked his eyes on Althea and smiled, it was also pretty clear what he was hoping to do soon.

"What... mmmm... st... stop it, please..." Gail looked pleadingly at her brother, who eyed her in annoyance before removing his fingers from inside her. She took a deep breath, grateful. "What are you two doing here? Herbert, are you making some kind of... of pilgrimage? Checking out the forgotten family? Are you giving him the tour, Althea? Making sure that Great-Grandma Gail is still kicking? How kind of you."

Rhianna frowned at her mother's obvious sarcasm. "Mom, I'm sure they're just being the good people that they are and trying to make up for lost time. You've seen the videos that Paul has provided on Herbie's... adventures..." Rhia blushed a bit as she stole a glance at her grandson through a veil of her loose hair. "He's a great man now, and great men pay attention to their families."

Herbie stood up, facing the three. "I am, though sometimes I'm still trying to figure out why." He sighed as he focused past the women, locking eyes with Tarrence. "In the end, as hard as it's been, I still have responsibilities. That means watching out for family. All my family. My mom, who's only mistake in life was to be taken in by a horny dickhead who just snatches up whatever he wants. My cousin and niece, who have lost their minds and actually fallen in love with me. My children, the ones still alive, who deserve a father who fights for them. Hell, I'll even include my friends that are just living nice, normal lives, hoping that people with more power and less scruples don't up and decide to fuck them over twelve ways from Sunday."

Homer had to smile when Herbie moved right up in front of Gail and Tarrence. Long past due, boy. Show 'em what the new deal is.

Herbie locked the pair in a steel gaze. "Because that's what will happen when your psychopath son takes over Zero Lymp U.S... after you help him. The whole world will be fucked up the ass."

"What do I care?" Gail didn't even hesitate, spitting out her answer with a mouth twisted in anger. "Why shouldn't our son take everything? Why shouldn't I help him? All you pretty ones have shit all over me and my forgotten children for decades, so now it's time for me to give them what they're due. So you figured out that me and Tarrence have been giving Tyson and the others the resources and info they need to oust Zed." She threw up her arms dramatically. "Who the fuck cares? I started this company with my first husband, Ethan, and now he's... he's... I don't even know what happened to him! Uriah, Craig... they all rose and fell, and the people that replaced them kept up the same fucking cycle of abuse and neglect... so why wouldn't I try to tear it all down?"

"Because Tarrence is using you, Gail." Althea stood next to Herbie, her no-nonsense tone matching her no-nonsense business outfit. She adjusted her glasses and checked her golden hair bun perfunctorily. Passionlessly. "He's always been using you. He planted the seeds to oust Ethan, then pushed you into a relationship with your own son, a relationship that made it easy for you to look at his lusts in a new light. One that set the tone for all of us." If she was regretful of that, she didn't show it. She sounded like she was reading from a list. "It was all so he could get you to run to him when it fell apart. To compromise for revenge. To sell your soul to him. He played the long game, and you fell for it." She turned to her father's mother, while Rhia looked like she wanted to find somewhere to hide. "And you pulled generations into his black embrace. Now comes the culmination of all of it in Tyson."

For an instant, and only an instant, Gail looked like Althea's emotionless words were getting through to her. Then she jumped when she felt her brother's hand curl around her shoulders and slip down the neck of her nightie to grope her tit with a fierce ownership. "Gail, Little Rhia... what's my name?" The man smiled at Althea, and said only those words.

While Gail closed her eyes and moaned, Rhia, like a whipped dog, moved over to the man, wrapped her arms around his waist and rubbed her cheek against his chest. Mother and daughter looked at each other, then Tarrence, then opened their mouths together. "Master."

"Like mother, like daughter." Tarrence's eyes were flat black coals in his head as he ignored Herbie and watched Althea. "...and daughter's daughter. I'll call Helen now if you don't believe it. I know your step-mom and you have always been rivals, but I also know what you really want, deep underneath. She's mine, you know. I can let you borrow her any time you want, and she'll be your eager little kitten, ready to do everything for you. To you. I just need a little... collateral."

Herbie looked like he was hearing a joke, until he looked over at his sister and saw the sheen of sweat on her brow. Althea didn't say a word, but she did begin rubbing her stocking-clad thighs together, obviously trying and failing not to picture everything her uncle promised.

When the stoic, brilliant woman gave a whimper as her eyelids drooped, Tarrence laughed again. "You just have to let it happen. Let my son win. Stop struggling. The conclusion is forgone anyway. I've played the board like a fiddle, always have, and with the mountain of forged documents our side has cooked up—"