Family Vacation
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The missile flew low over the waves, but fortunately not low enough to avoid being tracked. It had been detected when it was launched from a submarine, and once its trajectory had been determined to be Washington DC, an interceptor had been launched. The explosion as the two collided was not as large as it might have been, and resulted in a heavy cloud that drifted in the wind towards shore. A Coast Guard response team was dispatched to recover what they could.
The cloud descended and drifted to obscure a fair-sized sailboat crewed by a family on vacation, and anchored off a sandy barrier island. As the cloud passed on, leaving the boat behind and slowly dispersing and seeming to almost sink into the ocean, it revealed the unconscious family, some scattered on the deck, some belowdeck, all unconscious wherever they were when the cloud had enveloped them.
The response team found the boat there, and observing their condition, sent a medic aboard. The medic also fell unconscious quickly while checking a man for life and vital signs, and a quarantine was called. A team in hazmat bio suits was sent in to move the unconscious people into shade, take blood samples for analyses, and set up IVs to keep them hydrated in the heat. To all appearances, they were all asleep but could not be roused, and all had low-grade fevers.
Twenty-four hours later, the family began to wake up, and a short time later, the medic woke also.
I opened my eyes and felt a major headache, like my brain was under pressure, and throbbing with pain. Some guy in a plastic suit out of a science fiction movie bent over me and asked “How are you feeling?”
“Ugh. Like hell,” I said.
“Are you in pain?”
“Terrible headache,” I said. “Thirsty. Got to piss like a racehorse!”
“Okay, we’ve got a urinal for you to use, do you need a hand standing up?”
I sat up, groaned, and looked around. I was on the deck in the cabin, and there were people in the bunks. My wife was in the bunk on my right and my oldest daughter on my left. My head swam with dizziness from just looking about like that. “Yeah,” I said. “I may fall over otherwise.”
He helped me to stand, and I unzipped my fly. Bracing myself against the upper bunk, which held my sleeping son, I took the urinal held out to me and filled it. I closed the lid and handed it to the guy in the weird suit, who took it and called to a woman clad in the same fashion. As he helped me to move forward to a chair, I thanked him and asked, “What happened?”
“First, what’s your name?”
“John Davidson”
“Birthdate?”
“November 15th, 1962.”
My wife began to stir, and the guy called the woman over to help her. “We’re not sure. You may have been exposed to something hazardous. What do you remember?”
“An explosion on the other side of the island. Something flew overhead and BLAM! and then ... mist or something, I think? It gets fuzzy...”
“Well, a Coast Guard medic was sent in to check you over and he passed out too, so the area’s been quarantined. We’re going to run tests to see what you were exposed to. You said you’ve got a headache?”
“Yeah. Feels like my skull is in a vise!” I replied.
“My name is Jim, and that’s Sheila with your wife. We’ll be looking after you for a while.”
What do you say when... “Who are you with? The CDC or something?” I asked.
“USAMRIID.”
“Holy shit. The explosion was a biological weapon?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” he said. “Your fever has dropped back to normal, and your pupils are equal and reactive. You’ve got a small bump on the back of your head, probably incurred when you fell down.”
Where did the missile come from?” I asked.
“Unknown,” he said. “I can’t say anything more that that.”
Ah. Whatever answers they had were classified, I guessed. Heck, we were probably classified. Sheila brought my wife, Ann, forward to sit with me, collected the samples, and went up on deck. Ann apparently had a monster headache, too, but hadn’t fallen and hit her head.
“How are you, babe?” I asked.
“What the fuck is going on?” She asked.
“We may have been exposed to something dangerous. We’re under quarantine,” I told her.
“Are they going to lock us up?”
Jim shook his head. “Not at the moment,” he answered. “We’re just being careful and running some tests.”
“What was the explosion?” Ann asked, and I gave her the answers I’d gotten from Jim, who had gone back to check on the others.
“My back and boobs hurt, and they’re hot,” said Ann.
“They’ve always been hot!” I said, trying to lighten her anxiety. “Did you fall?”
“Smartass!” she snapped, but smiled as she did. “No, I never got out of my bunk. I was napping when the explosion happened.”
“Did you tell Sheila about your breasts?”
“No, I was focused on my headache.”
I opened the first aid kit and took out the aspirin and gave her three and took three for myself. I got two waters from the fridge and opened them, and we took our aspirin in silence. I heard my son stirring.
This scene replayed several more times as each of the family woke up. My son, Jack, my mother-in-law, Frieda, my oldest daughter, Pam, then my youngest, Daphne, and my nephew, Kevin. Everyone had terrible headaches, and as time passed, we noticed we were getting backaches, probably from being below deck all of the time -- seating there is limited to mostly bunk space and a small galley.
Jim and Sheila helped each of us as we woke with an urgent need to pee, and took blood and urine samples, as well as cheek swabs and sweat swabs. I was worried about what was going to happen when we had to take a dump.
I was growing aware of a smell, a really wonderfully good smell, but it was mixed with something sour, nauseating almost.
“Hey, Jim, can we get up on deck? It’s getting close in here,” I said. It was. The cabin’s little solar air conditioner wasn’t designed to handle the heat of the day as well as all the bodies crammed in here. It had been okay in the morning, but as the day wore on the heat was turning the cabin into a sweatbox.
“Uh, wait a minute,” said Jim, and spoke with someone who wasn’t there in a low voice. “Yeah, okay. Do you have a tent or tarp or something to set up on the beach?”
“We have both,” I answered.
“You might want to set at least the tarp up to keep the sun off,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Jim and Sheila were now working in shifts, one of them always present in their biohazard suits.
The medic had awakened, finally, also complaining of a headache. His name was Jerry, he said. He’d arrived on a Coast Guard cutter, and been sent over when they saw Jack and I unconscious on the deck. He said he’d been wearing a surgical mask and gloves, and had been partway through examining me on the deck when he passed out. He had no idea what caused it.
Jerry, Jack and I set up the tarp on the sand, and set up the few camping supplies we had on board. As we were doing so, we couldn’t help but notice that Sheila and Jim had come in a submarine, and that there was a decontamination shower set up on the deck, as well as some other cubical arrangements that looked a bit scary. They obviously were not screwing around.
I discovered I’d found the source of the sour stench -- it was Jerry. The funny thing was he seemed to be wrinkling his nose at us, too. I sniffed my son -- sweaty, but no stench. I caught my son sniffing -- he’d noticed, too. I whispered to him, “Do I smell okay?”
“Yeah, it’s him.”
“Thanks!”
Jerry asked, “Do you all eat anything unusual? What is your usual diet like?”
“We shrugged. “Burgers, fries, ham sandwiches yesterday, you know...”
“You seem to think I have a strange smell yes?” he asked.
“Well, um, yes, kind of like something sour.” Jack replied.
“I’m noticing the same thing from you,” he said. “We should tell the captain.”
As we went back aboard our boat, we found my mother-in-law on the deck. She said, “Kevin smells terrible! I think something’s wrong with him!” As we drew closer, she said, “Oh my God! You stink as well!”
“You aren’t a bouquet of roses yourself, Frieda,” I said. She was more pungent than Jerry.
“She smells good to me, Dad,” said Jack. He seemed to be sniffing her pretty thoroughly.
“Mm, Jack, you smell wonderful!” said Frieda. They were sniffing each other like the other smelled like a wonderful meal, or freshly-baked cookies or something.
Sheila and Ann came on deck, and we told her what we’d discovered, and she said that everyone below thought everyone else smelled okay but that Kevin smelled “amazingly wonderful” to everyone but Ann; for Ann, he smelled like skunk and open sewer, as did Jerry and I. Frieda moved to the opposite side of the boat from us, while Ann held her nose.
I stepped down into the cabin with Ann to be assaulted and enticed by scent. While my wife smelled like Jerry did, the girls smelled ... excitingly good. If Kevin smelled, I couldn’t tell. Something was happening, because the scents were becoming stronger with each passing minute. I climbed out, and called down for everyone to come on deck.
I turned around to see Jerry throwing up over the side. I understood his nausea, because I had gone to kiss my wife, and gotten a noseful of sour milk and rotten eggs. We were going to need the open air very badly.
Sheila had apparently talked to Jim and someone else and reported what was happening, because Jim was there in his suit pretty quickly. They looked at each other with concern.
I told them, “We need to get ashore, or we’ll all be throwing up soon!”
“Okay, go!” said Captain Jim.
We went. He tried to organize us by scent groups, which was interesting. Jerry was in a group of one, but I couldn’t be near him, Frieda or my wife. Frieda couldn’t be near me or Jerry or Kevin. My wife couldn’t be near me, Jerry, or Kevin. The kids could be near everyone but Jerry, although Kevin couldn’t be near my wife or Frieda either. The people we could be near smelled wonderful, and I do mean wonderful.
The scents were different for everyone. The bad scents were described as open sewer, rotten eggs, and really awful sour milk. The good ones were fresh-baked cookies and bread, spices, great perfume, and something indefinable. Like heaven would smell. I said, like my wife’s skin did to me just yesterday.
The women were all complaining that their breasts were hurting and sore. Apparently, they were swollen as well, and bras had had to come off because of it.
Jim asked how Kevin was related, and I told him he was my sister’s son. “So, those with common genetics smell good, non-family, genetically speaking, smell bad?”
“Yeah ... I think so,” I reaponded.
“You have definitely been exposed to some kind of biological agent,” said Jim.
“Someone wanted people in the capital to ... what?”
“The capital?” pounced Captain Jim.
“Something explodes in the air near DC on the day the Presisent is giving a speech out in the open, you guys show up almost immediately looking for biological agents in biohazard suits and slap a quarantine on us first thing instead of transporting us to a hospital. What is the glaringly obvious conclusion?”
“Hmph,” said Jim.
“We don’t seem to be sick, really, but something wierd is happening. What have you found in all the samples you took?” I asked.
“We haven’t found anything that shouldn’t be there yet, but your chemistry is off. For all of you.” Jim admitted.
My wife suddenly grasped her breasts with a cry. The front of her shirt became wet, starting at the nipples.
“Oh, my God!” I cried out, because the stench was suddenly overwhelming. I staggered away upwind, retching. My son, however, turned to her and staggered toward her wrestling with his pants. He dropped his shorts and they fell down his legs and he stepped out of them as he continued. The women all watched him, and as he neared her, Ann dropped to her knees and swallowed his erection.
From twenty yards away, I watched my wife fellate my son. I was stunned. This was just ... insane. My wife, his mother, wouldn’t do that! Ann was not like that! It simply wasn’t in her character! And my son was pulling his mother’s top off! What the fuck was that? Something was leaking out of her nipples, and he was getting it on his hands and licking it off! Neither of them would behave this way! Something was terribly, terribly wrong!
My eighteen year old daughter, Daphne, was storming her way to me, a look of shame and anger on her face. Pam was staggering back, away from the two of them, looking frightened. Frieda ... holy shit, Frieda was squatting on the sand with her hand down her shorts, obviously fingering herself. She had been the closest to Ann, perhaps five yards away. Her shirt looked wet, too.
Jerry, who was downwind, was throwing up everything he had ever eaten. The poor bastard couldn’t even move away from the smell. Jim, after watching all these developments with shock, moved to help him.
Daphne got closer to me, and was growling with anger. “I can’t believe her! She ... she...” Daphne was looking at me oddly, hungrily. “Daddy... ?” I realized I was hard, very hard. My balls felt heavy and strange, and I realized they’d been feeling that way for a while but I’d been ignoring it.
I saw the spots bloom on her t-shirt where her hard nipples and breasts were straining against it. Then the smell, the delightful odor of all good and wonderful things reached into me and pulled me to her like in an old cartoon. My body moved to her -- I, the thing I think of as “me”, was ... it was like “I” was tranquilized, not using my willpower, just watching through my eyes. I felt Daphne grab my shorts and pull them down, and I fell backwards on my ass as she began sucking my cock with the most wonderful passion and sensations.
My hands pulled her shirt off and like my son’s had done, grabbed my daughter’s breasts and began rubbing the palms on her leaking nipples, trying to catch the dripping milk and bringing it to my mouth. The taste! Oh, it was the taste of sweet heaven, a wonderf flavor I had never tasted before but made every tastebud scream in ecstasy. My cock got even harder, and my balls began to work overtime.
I came long and hard into my daughter’s throat as she moaned and fingered herself. The orgasm was blindingly intense, and as it faded slowly, I realized I needed to fuck her. And I do mean fuck. It was a deeply animal, instinctual need to fuck, summoned from the deepest core of our species’ history.
I moved and my daughter went down on her back, her legs spread wide and she moaned in need. I tore her shorts off in an instant, they were in the way. I plunged my hardness into her sopping velvet wetness and began thrusting like an animal, a madman. I had to cum in her. She cried out in orgasm and clawed my back and ass, pulling me with surprising strength into her as deep as I could go.
I came again inside her, emptying my balls in ecstatic bliss, thrusting so hard into her, and I felt her pussy fiercely throb and grab at my cock in her own screaming orgasm. It lasted what felt like forever.
We came to ourselves afterwards. I found myself looking into my daughter’s eyes, and felt shame, and I saw that same shame in her eyes. We panted on the sand, and I pulled out of her. She still smelled good, very good, but the urgent drive had eased.
I heard Kevin and Pam going at it a few yards away, and looked to see Frieda riding Jack as my wife wept in shame a few feet away from them. Jerry was screaming and kicking at the sand on the far side, his fists clenched. I longed to go to my wife, to hug her, to hold her, but I knew I simply couldn’t. I could hold my daughter who was feeling terrible; I was, too.
“Baby, we couldn’t help it. This is something that has been done to us. All of us. Don’t think it is your fault because if isn’t!”
“Daddy ... I ... oh, God, Daddy, I liked it!”
“I know, Baby, I did, too. That drive is a part of all of us, and we’re hard-wired to like sex.”
“That’s not what I meant, Daddy, I mean I like it and I want more! I want to do that all the time! I want you in me now and later and always and any time! And oh, Daddy, my titties hurt! They’re too full!”
Milk was beginning to leak from her nipples again, and the scent was in my nose again, and before I knew it, I had leaned over and taken one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking pure sex drive fuel into my mouth and stomach and cock and balls. My cock was still slick from our combined fluids, and Daphne began stroking my cock as I sucked. I wanted more, more of everything! More milk, more sex, more sensation, and I was going to fuck her again any minute, as soon as her breasts were empty.
Again, it was like I was watching but powerless to stop. It was like there was someone immovable inside my body saying, “Me caveman, me fuck woman now!
I was aware, in a corner of my mind, of Ann screaming in orgasm again. Daphne pushed me back, again with surprising strength, and climbed on top of me and slid my cock home. God it was good! She slammed her pussy down on my pelvis like a jackhammer, just a bit slower. I watched her breasts bounce as she did, and it was just fucking right. So good, so right, so like it was supposed to be! Her pussy milked my cock like a farmer milks a cow, gripping and sliding in the oldest rhythm of all, her sweat dripping down on me, her sounds burning themselves into my brain -- yes, sounds of mate, smell of mate, feel of mate, taste of mate, look of mate’s face in passion, movement of mate -- all MATE. She threw her head back and screamed in triumph as she came, and I growled and yelled in answer, my cum summoned from me by her, her, HER!
I gave all to her, into her, I was hers and she was MINE! I was rigid with that giving, and then I fell back on the sand, exhausted, my brain simmering in our smell and feel. The world was Daphne and me, and it slowly revolved around us as we breathed each other in. She was lying atop me, and everywhere she touched me felt electrical, happy, and right. Her hard nipples against my chest, her warm velvet wetness embracing my cock, her warm skin pressed against me, her breath on my neck ... so, so good!
We slowly began to come back to ourselves, with the sun beating down on us, dreadfully hot. It was quiet. Daphne got off of me, and I felt a stabbing sense of loss as we disconnected. I stood and looked around. Jim and Jerry seemed to be missing, while Kevin was atop Pam, who still had her legs wrapped around his back, and Ann and Frieda were atop Jack, Frieda and Ann propping each other up leaning against each other, Ann astride his cock and Frieda over his face. I wrinkled my nose as a stray gust of wind brought a whiff of their stench.
We pulled on our shorts, and Daphne and I moved down to the ocean, and washed off. Daphne’s wonderful scent did diminish a great deal as we did. I began looking for Jim and Jerry, and spotted Jim’s orange plastic-covered head over the top of a dune.
We walked over towards him, and noticed that the others had roused and were making their way to the ocean to do as we had done. As we topped the dune, I saw that Jim was looking down, and as we got closer, I saw he was looking at the body of Jerry.
As I got to Jim’s side, he said, “He went mad. He was literally tearing his hair out, and biting his hands. He charged me, screaming. I had to shoot him. He wouldn’t stop.”
“He didn’t have ... someone to mate with. No family here.”
Jim looked at me. “You seem okay.”
“I ... we had to ... we had to ... mate. Not just fuck, but mate,” I said.
“I saw some of that,” Jim acknowledged. “I got ... sidetracked.”
“Should we bury him?”
“No, they’re bringing a special body bag. He is still contaminated, and probably infectious.”
“What’s that?” asked Daphne, who was avoiding looking at the body before us. I turned to look where she was looking, and walked over to the beach’s edge. Just below the high-tide line was something metallic. We walked over, and I saw the hammer and sickle of the USSR, a symbol I hadn’t seen in a very long time.
Jim cursed, and began urgently reporting to whoever was on the other end of his radio. When he was done, I saw a couple of more people in the biohazard suits making their way towards us, carrying an oblong container. I turned back to the curved metal fragment.
“Russia?” I asked Jim.
“We can’t be certain at this point,” he said. “The USSR covered a lot of territory, and when it collapsed a lot of things got lost or sold on the black market. We were lucky to make sure most of the nukes were recovered or accounted for. This ... will take some research.”
The others had come for the body, and were moving to carefully transfer it into the container. I felt Daphne touch my shoulder. “Daddy?”
“Let’s go back,” I said.
She nodded, and slipped her arm in mine. As we walked, she looked up at me, “Mate, huh?”
“Didn’t you feel it?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I just wanted to hear you say so.”
“Baby ... Daphne ... you are my ... mate. The one. No one else will do, ever again. I don’t know how to explain.”
“I know,” she said, cuddling against my side as we walked. It was pure cheesiness out of a bad, or maybe a really good, romantic movie.
“What the hell am I gonna tell your mother?”
“I don’t think you’ll need to tell her anything. I think she already knows. Jack has become the center of her world. Her problem is that she has to share him with Grandma. Or, maybe that’s not a problem, I don’t know. Jack may be the one with the problem!” she laughed.
I stopped, and gathered her into my arms. “God, you smell wonderful!”
She buried her face in my chest. “So do you.”
We made our way to the tarp, and watched as the team took the box of Jerry back, and returned for the wreckage.
Frieda and Ann stayed on the far side, for which I was grateful and they were wrapping themselves around Jack. Our daughters and Kevin and I stayed on the opposite side, though Daphne and Pam didn’t have any olfactory issues with anyone. The girls, however, glued themselves firmly to their respective “mates”.
It was actually a bit uncomfortable. The change was impossible to ignore, but there was a feeling like we expected the others to judge us for what they themselves were doing. My wife, who this morning I felt was deeply sexy, was not the slightest bit attractive to me now, even if my nose was left completely out of the equation. ‘My brain has been rewired,’ I thought. I conjured up visions and stories and anything that I had ever found erotic before, and there was not the least stirring of interest. It was a frightening realization. Only Daphne was sexy now, and even thinking her name made my cock twitch and my heart skip a beat.
I told the group what had happened to Jerry, and they nodded their understanding. I could see the horror in their eyes as they thought about it.
Then I told them about the other thing, the twisted, curved metal on the beach, a remnant of something from an empire lost to recent history.
“Maybe ... maybe they’ll know of a cure!” Ann said, hope, worry and fear in her voice.
I shrugged. I was feeling sunburned, and the salt on my skin itched. I thought about the first aid kit and the sunburn gel it contained. Daphne needed water, and I was sure I did, too. ‘And the others’ was the afterthought.
I told the others I was going back to the boat to get some supplies, and Daphne moved with me to go with me. I saw two biohazard-suited figures approaching, and stopped to wait.
“Well, Captain Jim, what news?” I asked as they drew near.
“None that is good, I’m afraid,” he said. “It was an old Soviet weapon, but someone had tinkered with what it was carrying, and perhaps not well. They may not have fully understood the virus it contained. We think it had been designed to be used in Afghanistan during the long Soviet invasion there, to cause disruption and rifts between the various tribes and villages, making them unable to work together. Either they didn’t tinker well, or they did it incredibly well. It would have released its payload over Washington DC during the 4th of July Independence Day festivities where most of the crowd would be Conservative Republicans. Can you imagine the chaos when Conservative leadership couldn’t stand to be in the same room together? Or worse, if these same people with a very Conservative base, mostly Christian, began committing incest in the streets of the capital? Or if they took this very contagious virus home? Can you imagine how the very fabric of society would be changed, even destroyed?”
“I’m guessing there’s no cure.”
“No. If the Soviets had one, and the Russians aren’t even admitting that the original existed, not even informally and off the record, whatever was done to it has changed the virus. It is fortunate that it didn’t kill you outright, playing with these things is always incredibly chancy at best. Or, maybe not. We don’t know what other effects it might have over the long-term. The higher-ups are arguing about what to do with you. You cannot be allowed contact with any other humans.”
“Jesus! Are they going to stick us in some cell and forget about us, or kill us outright?”
“My commander is arguing to keep you isolated on a deserted island somewhere, far away from shipping channels and flight paths. There are a few of those that the military controls. He wants to keep you alive for study. Someone did it once, there may be more out there. We are still not sure who did this.”
Daphne gripped my hand. “Uh, Daddy...”
I caught the strengthening scent of her, and looked at her shirt. Tiny spots had appeared at her nipples.
“Jim, things are going to get interesting again,” I said, and had to adjust my shorts, “ ... very soon!” We heard the cries from the tarp, where Ann was tearing her clothes off, and Kevin and Pam were running from the other three.
Jim and Sheila backed away from us carefully and watchfully. Daphne pulled off her shirt and shorts and began tugging at mine. “We need aunscreen with a high SPF, Jim, as soon as possible!” I yelled as my clothes came off over slightly sunburned skin. That would get much worse soon, a part of me thought, a part that was getting more powerless with each passing second. My sex goddess wanted me.
Ann
I woke to find a strange woman in some kind of a spacesuit standing over me, a truly vicious headache, and an urgent need to pee. I was aware of these things very rapidly in that order. My boobs felt like someone had punched each one, too.
“What... !” I started to rise, alarmed.
“Careful!” said the woman, “you’ve been unconscious for a while.” I could see she was wearing green scrubs under the plastic.
“Can you please help me up and out to the side? I’ve got to pee very badly!” I told her.
“I’ve got a urinal here for you to use,” she said.
“Good thing, ‘cause I don’t know if I can make it that far!” I said in a low voice. She gave me an oddly shaped plastic thing that fitted over the necessary spot and helped me to squat. I was amazed at how much I filled the little jug -- it looked like it could hold a half gallon.
“Can you tell me your name?” she asked.
“Ann Davidson”
“Your birthdate?”
“January 3rd, 1971.”
“71?” she asked.
“Yes, 1971.” I confirmed, irritated.
“You look young for ‘71,” she said.
“Oh. Thank you. Vitamin E.”
She nodded, and we went through the usual proof-you’re-not-crazy questions: the year, the name of the president, and so on. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a bus,” I said, “and damp.” I added, feeling my shirt. My boobs were hot, and ached, and were sweating up a storm.
“You just broke a fever,” she said. “My name is Sheila, by the way, and that’s Jim. Nice to meet you Ann! Sorry for the circumstances...”
“How long were we out?” I asked, my nose picking up the faint scent that something had been left out and gone bad in the galley or something, or maybe someone hadn’t made it to the head in time. Ugh! The boat wasn’t equipped with a washing machine or anything! I hoped no one had soiled the sheets!
“Who is with you?” Sheila asked.
I ran down the list for her, looking toward each bunk as I did. John was forward and talking to Jim, the other spacesuited person. “Who is that?” I asked, discovering someone I didn’t know.
“He was here unconscious when we got here,” Sheila said. “He’s a Coast Guard medic. He’s the reason we’re wearing the suits. He passed out checking your husband out.”
“Oh,” I said, beginning to get even more worried.
“Look, I’ve got to get these samples over to be analyzed. Let me help you forward to your husband.”
She did. John asked me how I was doing, and I asked him what was happening. He told me we were under quarantine. I had a vision of a small quarantine cell I’d seen in a movie. “Are they going to lock us up?” I asked, and the man, Jim, answered me reassuringly, then moved back to check on Jack, my son.
Clover
- 27.09.2021
- 22
- 0
