Some Kind of Tragedy Pt. 05

The fist cracking into gloating old man's mouth came as a surprise to everyone... except Herbie, obviously, since he threw the punch. Tarrence careened backwards, landing hard on the ground. He looked up at the hulking man smiling down at him. "You're fucking insane. I will end you, bury you, make slaves of everyone you—"

"You've been doing this too long." Herbie's smiled went very wide. "You really don't have any sense that you could be taken for a ride, since you've always been the driver." Leaving it there for the moment, Herbie put a hand on Althea's shoulder. "You have it?"

The woman took a deep breath and looked back at him, nodding. "The recording is clear. Crystal." She tapped the frame of her fancy glasses while she glared down at her uncle. "I was able to miniaturize audio and video equipment and fit it right in here. In HD. Everything you just said was streamed to the board. It's already done."

"Holy shit." Rhianna gasped, while Gail looked like she was going to be sick. "Just like that? The... the civil war is over?" She looked from her grandchildren, to her uncle, and back again. "What... what does that mean for..."

"I have nothing." Gail flopped down on a nearby sofa, all strength leaving her limbs. "Not even revenge." The woman, still carrying her presence and dignity, even in a seeming defeat, nonetheless slouched backward and covered her eyes with her hands, wanting to shut out the world. In the meantime, Tarrence just stewed in the corner, suddenly small, suddenly shallow... and very, very afraid of a man he'd had nothing but contempt for over the years. After all, beneath it everything, if you can't protect yourself from violence, all that's left is retreat.

Herbie wasted no time in moving over to Gail, leaning over and taking one of her hands gently in his. Applying only light pressure, he pulled his great-grandmother to her feet, causing her to blink in confusion as she looked up into his eyes. "You think you have nothing, but you're wrong. You still have... all you want." He put both hands on her shoulders, and she swallowed, eyes widening. "You don't think we know we owe everything to you? All of us? Outside your little bubble here, you're revered, and mourned. You're missed."

He pulled her closer, and Gail's eyes moistened as she whimpered a bit. Herbie smiled reassuringly at her, enfolding her slowly in his arms. "You've been wronged, and you've been fed a diet of hate... but that's done with."

"How do I know?" The stately woman was pressed hard against her kinsman now, trembling in his embrace, her forehead propped on his broad shoulder. She tightened her own arms around him, even as her throat did the same, choking out her words. "How do I know anyone still... still..."

"You're loved." Herbie pulled her back a bit, tilting her head up by the chin to stare into her eyes. "I know, because I love you... and I just met you."

When he planted his lips lightly on hers, both Gail and Rhianna wept as decades of pent up bile was released in them. Herbie's grandmother rushed over to join in the embrace, and even detached Althea had to wipe at her eyes under her wondrous spectacles. Spectacles that were still recording the proceedings, presumably.

Herbie himself smiled at the pair, an arm wrapped about each of their waists. "This is a new day; the start of something great, I know it... but there's still something that needs to end." He looked at Althea, then back at Gail. "And only you can do it, if you're willing."

__________

The alert didn't happen until the next day, and by then Homer was expecting it. This time, he arrayed all his feeds to give him a panoramic view of one particular room, as well as all paths leading to and from it. The room in question was nothing particularly special, not for the headquarters of Zero Lymp U.S.; spacious, immaculately furnished in a mix of comfort and cutting edge technology, the leisure suite reminded Homer of the room in which April and her twins had their comeuppance. Coincidentally, the same thing was about to happen again to someone else here.

In the center of the room, on the million dollar carpet, Helen Tellus was pacing back and forth like she was awaiting word that the firing squad was ready for her. The swish swish swish of the skirt of her newest peacock-motif dress as it swirled around her legs from the long slit that went all the way up to her hipbone was as steady as a metronome. For easily the twentieth time, Homer saw her hand lightly touch the firm skin of her bare ass cheek through the slit, causing a grimace when she remembered, once again, that she wasn't wearing panties. Or a bra, as the pendulous swinging of her tits behind the extremely low-cut neck shouted for all to see, though that was par for the course with her on any given day.

In short, with her hair done in an elegant coif, her applied makeup no less than a work of art, and toting a bejeweled choker that must have cost more than its own crafter made in a year, Helen was a vision of allure and unattainable desire. Too bad the entire point of her presentation was appear imminently attainable... to a certain person. A certain person that was zeroing in on her in that very moment.

There wasn't even a knock. Instead, the massive, bulging, almost misshapen form of a man who had the best, or worst, combination of genetics and illegal enhancers pumping him up threw the door to the room open, making Helen jump in shock... with the very ill-timed result being that one of her massive tits popped free of her dress just as her visitor got his first look at her.

"I knew you'd be here. My sources are perfect." Tyson licked his lips as he openly ogled his niece from head to toe, centering on that mouthwatering, pale globe before she gathered herself enough to tuck it out of sight. "You been like a lightning bolt in my brain for weeks now, girlie. All those pictures my people have been sending me. All the videos they managed to get of you with most your clothes off. You're pretty. Real pretty. And you're a bitch, and I love it. I don't care what everyone else says about April's face, or Althea's ass, or how nuts any of your kids are in the sack... You're the one for me."

Tyson didn't even close the door behind him as he strode into the room, ripping the blazer off his back and tearing into the shirt across his grotesquely muscled chest like the buttons were conspiring to keep him from his prize. His gnarl-toothed grin was ready to swallow her whole. "Gonna fuck ya somethin' fierce."

When he whipped off his belt and began messing with his expensive slacks, Helen gave up any pretenses. "He's here!" She looked up at the ceiling, like she was addressing an unseen watcher. "Zed! I did my job! Get the fuck in here! He... he's... oh shit..." Her eyes bulged when her uncle finally divested himself of his troublesome trousers, revealing that the two of them had the same idea when it came to undergarments.

Tyson's rumbling laughter made the ugly, veiny python dangling between his beefy thighs bounce like it was gearing up to strike. The realization that no one was coming to deliver her from this trap caused Helen to blanch, but she gathered herself for one last act of proud defiance, pointing an accusing finger at her increasingly lust-infused uncle. "Stay away from me! Do you know who I am? I am Helen Tellus, executive and wife to the CEO himself! You will not violate me! Not this time! I can't take it anymore, and I'm sick of all you twisted monsters!"

Homer actually had a flash of admiration for the woman as she took a step towards her would-be rapist. "I am a Tellus, not a Smith! I don't deserve to be used by Zed... or April, or Hezekiah, or Tarrence... Fuck You! I'm done with all of it!" There were tears in her eyes now, born of a lifetime of frustration and humiliation. "All you freaks think you can just do what you want with those fucking cocks, to whomever you please? You ruin everything! You ruined me! Do you know what I did because of how much you fuckers have broken me inside? I... Oh God, I... made him..."

Tyson wasn't listening, and couldn't have cared less even if his mind was capable of anything other than the drive to mate with this epitome of matronly beauty. He lunged forward, eliciting a squeak from Helen as she tried to step back, but only managing to get tangled in her skirt and falling down on her ass. This time, both tits sprang free of her dress, and Tyson was right there, grasping each in one meaty paw to maul them mercilessly.

Helen wailed as he ceased long enough to tear away that traitorous skirt, and positively screamed when she felt the bulbous tip of that inhuman cock brush against her nether lips. "Stop! Fuck you, stop!" Her small fists beat futilely against his chest and her eyes rolled around, desperately seeking salvation. "Please, please, please..."

"You're lucky this is bigger than the two of us."

The new voice reached even Tyson through his madness, and both he and his victim turned to look at the interloper who'd just entered the room carrying a fancy tablet in his hand. Helen gulped, her eyes somehow getting even wider when she saw who was there, and more frightened, than they had been a minute earlier. "How... why..."

Herbert Tellus eyed his stepmother with an unreadable expression. Unreadable, because it seemed to bear all emotions at once; disgust, pity, rage, satisfaction... even sympathy. Overall, though was determination. He held up the tablet to Tyson and activated it, revealing a video paused and ready to play. "Asshole, you need to see this."

Tyson just growled at him. "Fuck off. Gonna get my dick wet." He poked his hips forward again, forcing Helen to cry out in alarm.

"Doubt that. She's gotta be as dry as the Sahara, even laying under such a debonair, skilled lover such as yourself." His mouth twisted wryly, mockingly, and that was enough to get Tyson back on his feet. Herbie wasted no time then in starting the recording, which began with both legs running.

"Mmm, ooh, shit, shit, ah, ah, ah..." The sighs and groans, the soft exhalations of pleasure emanated from the speakers right away, as did the captured scene that stopped Tyson in his tracks.

"Mommy?" The word somehow didn't sound strange coming from the big man as he snatched the tablet out of Herbie's grasp, then sat down hard on the floor, riveted to the images coming at him. Homer too, had no problem enhancing his feed to get a look, though he'd caught the real show the day before anyway. Still, Althea's glasses did do an excellent job of capturing what had happened in stark, in-your-face detail.

On screen was none other than Gail, progenitor to them all, bent over the arm of her couch as Herbie slammed into her again and again. The view would shift as Althea moved, revealing that the man hadn't been merely invited to fuck her... he was plumbing the depths of no less than her ass itself as they fornicated for everyone to see, and she absolutely loved it. Gail would look back at Herbie with a light in her eyes that no one had been witness to in a very long time, the love shining like a beacon, pushing her to spear herself on her great-grandson like only his dick could cure her of a fatal illness.

She would ram back, grind, then clench in an intricate pattern as he hung on for dear life, groaning himself in amazement at the treatment he was getting from this silver-haired goddess. Gail was howling in no time flat, professing her feelings for her progeny in no uncertain terms. "Ungh! You're so, so... Fuck! You're the greatest! Goddamn it boy, I love it! Love yooou!" She spasmed as her still-succulent breasts flopped free of her nightie. "I've been waiting for this my whole life!"

Tyson was utterly shell shocked, only looking up when Herbie activated a small remote in his hand to pause the video. "I fucked your mom." He smiled big. "And she loved it. Did you ever manage that?" The scowl on the nearly catatonic brute's face answered that question. Herbie just activated the video again. "Oh, and your big sister... because why not?"

On screen, Rhia had entered the view, unable to hold herself and her desire back any longer. She threw herself onto the floor under her mother and grandson, proceeding to run her tongue up the shaft of his cock every time it emerged from Gail's ass, and giving licks to her mother's clit while when it went back inside. All the while, the delicate, raven-haired beauty was frigging herself with her fingers and moaning as the palpable emotion in the room overcame her.

Well, at first. It wasn't long before it became clear that Althea had set her glasses down in a spot that kept the scene intact when she added herself to the mix, plunging her face into her grandmother's snatch while locking the woman's thin thighs in her arms. Rhianna mewed in the cutest way as the chain was formed; Althea's tongue in her pussy, her tongue on her mother's, and Herbie's cock rounding out the circuit.

From there, the whole thing played out in an increasingly cruel manner for Tyson, as each woman, with the exception of Althea, was ravished by him in every way conceivable. They rode him separately, then together. They lined up as he jackhammered back and forth between them. They let Althea have her way with them to relight his fires, and then laughed with joy as he crushed their slight frames under his muscled bulk like a man possessed.

Finally, though, the torment for Tyson was summited when Gail, sweaty and spent, was snuggling into Herbie's bare chest, her smiling face rising and falling as he worked to catch his own breath, listening to his heart hammering in her ear. She breathed out one last utterance before she drifted off into a more than satisfied oblivion. "New day, huh? Okay. Starting now... I'm with you." She planted a light kiss on her great-grandson's skin, then gave a little lick, relishing the taste. "The rest of them... they're on their own."

Tyson actually shed tears then when it came crashing down on him that his entire support system was gone. He was separated from Gail. From the source of his strength. He looked up at Herbie, who just winked. "Right... your wife says you can go fuck yourself too. Well, I think. It was hard to tell past all the moaning—"

Tyson roared and lurched to his feet, and that was when a waiting and ready Helen gave him a full-legged kick to his balls from behind, sending him right back to the floor. And that was it. It was done. Tyson was done. Herbie's arrow had struck him right through the heart. He tried to take everything, and now had everything taken from him.

All thanks to a man that, until days ago, had no idea he was even part of the family. Homer sat back with a wide smile of satisfaction. Good for you boy, but now you have a decision to make.

It was already playing out. Helen and Herbie stared at each other, with the older woman feebly clutching the rags of her dress closed to attempt to regain some dignity, and Herbie eyeing her like she was a puzzle to solve. It was him, after an eternity that saw Helen slowly shrivel into herself under his dagger eyes, that broke the silence. "June."

One word, and it was enough. It was a succinct and damning stand-in for the nearly two decades of misery that was Herbie's life. Helen ran out of the room without a single sound, and Herbie just watched her go, shaking his head. A world away, Homer watched, no doubt in his mind what was going through the man's own brain.

Why, oh why didn't I just snap her neck?

__________

The celebration party that was thrown the next day, orchestrated by Dion, of course, was a drunken orgy to end all drunken orgies. Everyone in the family was there, ordered in, even when they were reluctant. Zedekiah was not letting anyone off the hook; all would be there to reaffirm Zero Lymp U.S.'s victory, and his triumph as CEO. Remarkably, Ecaterina was there, looking fetching in a new evening gown that complemented her lithe frame perfectly. Even Hayden showed up. Of course, he threatened to bring down the room with his moodiness, but Penelope was there too, along with a furloughed Melinda plastered to her side, and together they reined in their grumpy sire.

The event kicked off with Zed proclaiming that Tyson and Tarrence were now persona non grata everywhere in the civilized world, and that they'd be buried together if they ever showed their faces again. Then he finally acknowledged Herbie in front of the whole family, to thunderous applause that nearly brought down the roof. Everyone there knew that they would have been completely fucked if the outsider didn't... well... completely fuck his way through their mess and save their asses in the process. The man was humble enough, and visibly contemptuous of his father enough, that he said a few words of acknowledgment and got the hell out of the spotlight as soon as possible.

There was a reason that his little ceremony was first, because as soon as it was done, the wine started flowing, the drugs came out, and shit got real dirty, real quick. People paired up, then the pairs paired up, all over the place, until more skin was showing than not. Homer was recording everything, and would watch it later with time to examine it all in detail, but right then, he kept focused on Herbie.

The man stood apart. Despite cajoling from his niece Iola and his cousin Adele, who were practically tearing the formal coat off him, and even in the face of a blatant invitation from Gail, who was ignoring a legion of her moonstruck relatives to crook a finger directly at him, the big man didn't partake. He was a man that seemed to just want to be alone.

With placating promises of later fun, Herbie vacated the party, heading out into the hallway by himself. Homer tracked him from room to room as he idly took in the life his newfound family led, here in the dynastic home. Eventually, he came on a room that wasn't empty. Herbie hesitated at seeing someone else, but she saw him too and smiled in guileless invitation. He seemed unable to help himself then.

"So, not into partying, I take it?" He gave her a friendly smile, then a shrug. "Me neither."

"Yeah. Me and the rest of them... we're not exactly, um..." The girl's shrug was a mirror to his own. She seemed shy, and looked it, wearing a basic T-shirt, running shorts, and calf-high tubesocks, like she was planning a jog, instead of the sensuous formal wear everyone else was garbed in. Had been garbed in, truth be told. Even with basic clothing, though, there was no hiding her obvious assets; a sleek, toned frame and trim, flat waist, but sporting a rack that obviously needed the queen of all sports bras to keep it in check when she was active. Her golden-brown hair was done up in a ponytail, but even that didn't hide how luxurious and rich her tresses were. In short, she was a knockout that didn't flaunt it.

Herbie eyed what was in her hands, a gold sports trophy topped by a cup, and she noticed. With a small laugh she held it out to him. "From what I understand, you deserve something like this more than me."

He twisted his lips. "I deserve a lot of things, but a trophy isn't one of them." He eyed it closer then, reading the plaque. "Holy shit, you won the national championship in archery? I used to love doing that back before..." He trailed off. "That's... wow. You should be proud. They need to display this thing front and center."

She just stared at him, her sky-blue eyes moistening. "You were right, mom. I can tell already."

At hearing footsteps, Herbie turned to see Helen coming out from behind a screen in the corner of the room. She was only wearing a robe, indicating that she'd never even shown up to her husband's ceremony. He narrowed his eyes at her. "What the hell do you wa--"