WMD Ch. 01

"Fine Victor," she grumbled. Worse than getting my name wrong was the look of viciousness that glimmered in her eyes. "We'll make Daddy happy and be a cookie-cutter couple."

"Dad?" I tried to exit this fiasco with some decorum.

"You'll do fine son," he responded. That wasn't helpful.

"I'll see you Monday morning, Victor," Brandy snidely mocked me before leaving. I turned to follow her thunderous retreat.

Running after her would have felt pathetic so my sedate pursuit meant she put some distance between us. She ran right into Mom, who grabbed her arm.

"I'm warning you right now," Mom hissed. "Don't have sex with any of my sons."

"That won't be a problem," Brandy snorted. I was filth in her mind and I didn't know why.

"You've been warned," Mom got out before Brandy tore herself away and stormed upstairs.

"Mom?" I looked for guidance from my other parental unit.

"Stick close to your brothers when you are at school," Mom cautioned me. From long experience, I knew that was the best explanation I was going to get. The cookout was chilly and it had nothing to do with the weather.

(Davis County Consolidated High School)

To better define the entrenched racial tensions we'd been dropped into; there had not always been a Kingston and a Davis County.

Back in 1977, the first time the Blacks seized the majority in the town council (and they'd never lost it since), they changed the municipality's name from Fonteneau (my Mom's ancestors had built the town so they named it after themselves) to Kingston, in honor of Martin Luther King. The County responded by changing its name from Parsons County to Jefferson Finis Davis County, after the only President of the Southern Confederacy.

For the first time in our history, my brothers and I had separate homerooms. I wasn't sure why, unless the faculty was afraid they couldn't keep track of which triplet was which if we were in the same room. We arrived early so we could scout out the terrain and determine which class was where. When I entered my first class - homeroom, I noticed we all had our names taped to our chairs.

I ended up on the far left side (if you were facing the dry erase board) with a window seat viewing the athletic fields. No sooner had I gotten comfortable when several other students came in. One was a girl with thick curly black hair and huge, round glasses that dominated her face. She was slight of build and had serious under-confidence issues. She headed for the seat right behind me.

"Hello, I'm Vladimir Samsonov," I extended my hand before she got past me. She gave me a limp hand to shake while stammering something. "I am a transfer from Alaska. Are you a regular?" I inquired as I let her hand go. More muttering. I noticed that a) the majority of my class was Black and b) they were shifting the seat signs around to suit their own personal cliques.

One Black jackass noticed me staring at him.

"Whatchya looking out, boy," he snorted with amusement. A few of his buddies joined in deriding me.

"Not much, you moron," I mocked him. "You think the teacher doesn't have a seating list in her possession?"

My resistance appeared to gather their ire. Three Black kids came my way. They were pudgy and stood around 5' 8" to 5' 10".

"You had better watch your mouth, bitch," he postured. He was in my 'space'. I didn't like that so I stood up and looked down on him.

"Bitch?" I mused. The enormity of his mistake was written on his face. I had six inches on him and my mass advantage was pure muscle. I was anything but intimidated. "Does your punk ass wants to be thrown down?" I grinned. Their proximity and stances screamed "amateurs".

"Hey man, we were just playing around," he and his buddies tried to retreat.

"Now put the seating assignments back where they belong. I don't want to waste the teacher's time with your juvenile bullshit," I demand.

"Or what?" one of his comrades felt that the expanding distance allowed him to be mouthy. I took one step and then drove my first- and forefinger into the muscles shielding his heart. Pain and fear caused the dude to recoil and crash into a chair before slipping out and slithering to the floor.

"Where I come from, we respect our elders - that includes teachers. You are going to do it because that's how the teacher wants it," I stated in a clear, even tone. "Are we clear, or do you want some more?" The class was dumbstruck. The three Black kids were especially fearful. "Now pick your ass up and make sure the seating assignments are correct."

I resumed my seat. The Black crowd was muttering, glancing my way angrily. They were also doing as I had told them. That poke was actually something I learned when my Mom had us take a 'Bodyguard' course in Las Vegas last summer ... sometimes ... that woman. It was 'back the fuck up and listen to me before I have to kick your ass' poke. It was painful and didn't raise a welt.

It was meant to get the person's attention without hurting him/her. It wasn't my fault the dumbass fell over.

"Hi, I'm Kaelyne Harlow," the girl, who I had tried to talk to, tapped my shoulder.

"Glad to meet you, Kaelyne," I turned and shook her hand again. Her grip was firmer.

"You are going to get in trouble for that," she looked worried. That expression was enhanced by the size of her glasses.

"How so?" I asked.

"Vlad, who are you talking to?" Brandy's voice dripped with false affection. I had missed her entrance.

"Kaelyne Harlow," I turned back. Considering the reasonable population of our student body, the importance of race and the size of the White minority, Brandy should have known her.

"Kaelyne, he's my boyfriend this year. My Daddy says so, his Daddy says so and we have to do what our Daddies tell us to do," Brandy demeaned Kaelyne and me with her attitude. "Even if he would want someone like you, he can't have you."

Kaelyne wilted. The teacher's (Ms. Alice Thomas) entered the room cautiously and called for attention. She seemed somewhat surprised people were in their assigned seats. Brandy was on the front row and a Black girl next to her kept up a whispered conversation. The girl, Taliyah Malik, acted like she was Brandy's BFF and their disrespect was annoying.

It was also troubling that the teacher didn't call them to task over it. After we were dismissed to go to our first period classes, Brandy looked over her shoulder and smiled at me.

"Vlad, meet me in the men's locker room at the start of lunch break and I'll give you something special," she said. That was wrong on so many levels.

Worse, most of the Black students found that amusing. Not good, not good, not good. I caught Kaelyne's look of pity my way, but had another difficulty to deal with as I moved down the hall. The three asshats from homeroom had found two larger goons. They were coming at me, the hall crowd was expecting a fight and I was giving them a wolfish grin.

I wasn't seeking Valhalla, or a masochist. I was looking at my two brothers following those five.

"Problem?" I addressed my pursuers.

"Yo bitch, you are about to get jacked," the mouthy guy smirked. 'Bitch' again. Had someone slashed this school's insult budget?

"Problem?" Alexander grinned at me. Two of the guys looked over their shoulder at my twin.

"Problem?" Mikhail was positively feral. More looks of shock. Yeah, we were triplets.

"I'm not sure," I joked. "I think this gang of homosexuals was stalking me." I didn't give a crap about homosexuality.

The only homo I had ever knowingly met was a lesbian IDF (Israel Defense Force) hand to hand combat trainer (Krav Maga). She was one scary lady. I'd asked her what it was like being a lesbian. When it was translated, she asked if I was one of 'those' Christians. I told her I was OCA (Orthodox Church in America). She nodded; clearly I wasn't one of 'those'.

"Do you like girls?" she asked me in broken English.

"Yes," I nodded.

"So do I," she laughed and that was that. The issue at hand wasn't what I thought of homosexuality. Mom had informed us these Blacks found it insulting and an assault on their masculinity.

"Are you chasing my brother's ass?" Mikhail teased the biggest thug.

"Fuck..." he got out. He was trying to push Mikhail back. Schoolyard brawlers shouldn't pick on trained martial artists. In general, it's wrong to pick on people and it is moronically wrong to pick on people you don't know.

Mikhail was the most violently-inclined of us three. This bastard had screwed up. Mikhail channeled his attacker's momentum into the closest set of lockers. That blooded the brute's face.

"I think he tried to grab my pectoral, Bros," Mikhail belittled the guy.

"It looked that way to me," I agreed.

"Let's go to class," Alexander suggested and off we went. The four remaining guys were totally off their game. The first half of school followed that pattern. For some reason, we were supposed to put up with this Black bullshit. Grabbing girls, pushing the wimpy White guys around and beating up the rednecks who fought back (because the rednecks fought stupidly and were always outnumbered by the Black mobs they clashed with).

The Blacks harassing my brothers and I got bigger and had a game plan that involved keeping us apart. At third period I was introduced to a peculiarity I hadn't believed existed outside of Hollywood. Black men calling Black men 'niggers' and 'nigger'. To test the water, I joined in that jocularity and boy, oh boy, did they get pissed.

In this environment, White people couldn't call Black people 'nigger' to their face. The hypocrisy insulted my sense of fair play. I was making my way to the locker room date with Brandy when I got a text from Mikhail. He was going to the Vice Principal's office after a similar run in with the 'nigger' dichotomy.

Four 'homies' attempted to 'correct' my brother's word usage. From the pics he took, they looked pretty badly beaten. I would have gone to hell and back for either brother. That didn't blind me to Mikhail's mean streak. Mom said it was his Varangian ancestors calling to him. Mom was always coming up with that kind of poetic nonsense.

Alex checked in okay - we had code words - thank you Uncle Theo. Outside the entrance to the Men's locker room stood two rather impressive Black gentlemen, around my height but lighter built. They were kind enough to follow me in. That was a good thing because as I opened the door, all kinds of muffled sexual sound assaulted my senses.

For a moment, I loss perspective and, as they say, fools rush in. Two locker rows in, on the benches was an orgy. I had a feeling despite Brandy telling me to come here, it hadn't been to invite me to join. In the split second it took me to realize this wasn't rape going on, the two guys who followed me in grabbed my bicep and elbows on each side.

Brandy was in a somewhat awkward 'on all fours' position. A Black guy was beneath her, fucking her pussy and mauling her tits. Another was feeding his super-sausage-sized dick down her throat, face-fucking her, with his hands holding her head. It turned out to be rather stumpy, but I didn't learn that until later. There was a third Black guy with a truly impressive phallus pounding away violently at her butthole.

"You must be Vlad," snorted the hugenormous Black guy. "I just want you to know that Brandy is my slut. Now," he gave Brandy several hard thrusts, "you are going to be a good cracker-boy, or you are going to be a dead cracker-boy, you understand me?"

"Answer Darius," one of my two captors growled at me. Darius had to be the talker.

"What exactly do you want?" I asked cautiously.

"She's my fuck-slave. You are going to lie to her Daddy about what's going on, and you get by just fine. When I tell you to take her out on a date so I can fuck her - you take her on a fucking date. That's what you do to stay safe - you and your brothers."

Brandy was trying to say something but the guy forcing his dick down her gullet wasn't letting her. Darius signaled the 'brutha' to ease up. Brandy gasped for air and choked down the precum and saliva.

"Darius is my Man, Vlad. You play nice and no one gets in trouble," she smiled at me.

Maybe she was trying to look seductive, or triumphant, but all she looked to me was tawdry and used. She was about to say something else, but the guy getting his cock sucked didn't care. He shoved it past her lips though I doubted it reached much of her throat his rod went. That ended her participation in the 'conversation'.

I took several seconds to take in the larger scene. There were five girls here in some state of undress of their cheerleader outfits. Two girls were Black. They were getting the solo treatment. The two other White girls and Brandy were getting slammed. One big fella shot off over one girl's face and another took his place before she could even clear her eyes.

If there was love in this school, it wasn't in the Men's locker room at that moment. Brandy's BFF looked at the 'air tight' blonde with distain, sharing in some private joke with her confederates of color. Darius dumped a load in Brandy's ass. That set her off into orgasm. How sweet was that?

Before another guy took Darius' spot targeting Brandy's posterior, I could see that it was a gaping cavern filled with white goop. I was strongly convinced this wasn't Brandy's first, or tenth gangbang, or bout of anal sex. In a way it was a relief. Brandy was no longer my problem.

"You going to be a good boy?" Darius came up and grabbed my chin.

I would give him this much, he was fast. He blocked my knee, which would have been decisive if that hadn't been my distraction. My foot came down and stomped on the instep of the guy to my right. His hold weakened. While I broke free from the guy on my right, I pivoted behind the guy on my left. I let Darius' counterstrike hit that bozo.

Now I was free and here was my chance to not be Mikhail. I ran for it. There were twenty Black guys down there. I wasn't sure what level of threat the fucked cheerleaders would be, but I didn't need the hassle. The guys looked to be members of the football team (I guessed correctly). That meant strength training and endurance.

Run to someone in authority? Who could I trust? The Principal was this fat, old Black joker. The Vice Principal was some heavy-set White chick who was currently reaming out my brother. Fleeing school? Nah, I had to come back at some point so running away was delaying the inevitable. I decided that a crowded spot was my best bet so I ran for the cafeteria.

As soon as I made it, another conundrum revealed itself. Where to sit? My calculations were interrupted by someone calling my name. It was Kaelyne. She was at a table with a nerdy otaku chick and an overweight Goth girl.

"Are you okay?" was the first rush of words out of her mouth when I sat down.

"Sure," I nodded.

"Did you go..." the nerdy girl with the crimson haired pixie cut prodded. That pretty much reinforced what I suspected and feared.

"Yes. I went, I saw and I ran away," I grinned. "So, who is Darius?"

"Darius Pope pretty much runs this school," Pixie-cut babbled. "He's serious bad news. The Principal and the Coach worship the ground he walks on. He and the football team pretty much do what they like." I looked to Kaelyne for some help.

"Oh, this is Vicky - Victoria (pixie cut) and this is Leona (Goth girl)," she made introductions.

I seemed to need no introductions. Further confusion was curtailed by Alexander joining us. Another round of greetings came and went then it was down to brass tacks - relaying my locker room revelations and threats. Alex and I both knew we had no alternative. No one at school liked us, the biggest, both literally and figuratively, cult on campus was going to stomp us flat if we so much as squeaked and they wanted us to lie to Dad.

Knuckling under to tyranny and lawlessness wasn't the Samsonov way. We had a frozen stiff great-grandfather to prove it. Beyond some impressive genetics and a bloodline dedicated to bringing forth the light of justice into the darkness where inequities poisoned the soul, we had our Mom's crazy-quilt of skills to fall back on. Honestly, if all he had wanted was to date/slam-fuck Brandy, I'd have walked away.

Sadly for Darius, Alexander and I saw the look of fear in Kaelyne's and Victoria's faces (Leona kept her bangs over her eyes) when they talked about the school's biggest cock-monster. Worse, this malignant, weird sickness seemed to infect both the school and the town. If you were a sexy 'townie' White girl, Black guys fucked you whether or not your parents approved, or if you had a boyfriend.

Some cliques of Black girls were just as bad. In either case, the affair never ended well for the White students. If the girl got pregnant, it was either a back room abortion, or an unwed mother with no Black guy taking responsibility. White boys who screwed Black girls were living on borrowed time. When her father, brother, and/or boyfriend found out, the guy got a serious beating.

The teacher situation was just as malignant. Those who wouldn't willingly pull up their skirts and drop those panties were blackmailed to do so unwillingly. The Principal knew and didn't care. He was part of the problem, using trumped up demerits to force sex on girls, White and Black. He did the same to some of the mothers and teachers too. Coach was in the same sleazy league.

The Vice Principal? She was married to this tax professional in Kingston yet she was basically the Coach's cum dump. Occasionally he pimped her fat ass out for his star players to fuck as well. Alexander, Mikhail and I were alone in this...maybe Mom. I could tell that Kaelyne and Victoria wanted to do 'something' vaguely like resisting, but we couldn't afford it if they folded up under the pressure.

At the end of lunch break, we got a text from Mikhail. First off, he had recorded the VP's little put down session including her ignoring the reality that Mikhail would never pick a fight with four guys he had never met before. For better, or worse, the Principal had intervened and suggested that Mom showed up for a visit - just the two of them - after school.

I was kind enough to ask Mikhail if he'd warned the Principal about the can of whoop-ass he was about to open. He said he had and that the Principal gave him this shit-eating grin. We called Mom. She was aware of the setup and was coming 'equipped', whatever that meant. Darius caught up with us as lunch was ending.

He had five of his biggest plus Brandy and Taliyah. Darius had an arm around Brandy's shoulder. She looked to be as happy as a well-fucked clam could be.

"That was very stupid of you," he glared. It was a common intimidation technique to not use a person's name. It dehumanizes them. Me? I could care less.

"I'm not a fan of men putting their hands on me in locker rooms, Darius," I regarded him coolly. "If this is about Brandy; I don't want her. If this is about her Dad; that's not my problem. If she wants to lie to her Dad about who she's seeing, that's on her. Quite frankly, I don't want any part of this scummy mess."

"You shouldn't have hit my boys," Darius grinned wickedly. "You are going to have to pay for that."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," I shrugged. "Do you want to handle this like men, or should I expect more of your nigger ambush bullshit?"

"I'll get to you in due time," Darius smirked. The 'N' word angered his crowd.

Darius let it slide this time. I guessed the 'men' angle was out. That was fine by me. Ambushing worked both ways. "Brandy, why don't you give your 'boyfriend' a big wet kiss," he directed her toward me.

"Ffhh," I scoffed. "I wouldn't let my dog lick her mouth. I'm definitely not kissing that latrine."

Brandy looked incensed. Darius was pissed, but not over Brandy's tiff. No, I wasn't afraid of him and I wasn't going to back down. That meant he'd have to find a way to break me and my brothers. His problem was he was smart enough to know we weren't the normal redneck dumbasses. You couldn't get at us through our sisters, aunt, or cousins; only our Mom (yeah, right).