Where The Mountain RisesChapter 26: Growing Pangs free porn video

Anno 2034

The following spring, as soon as the ground was dry enough to drive the vehicle over grassy fields, Clark returned to where he and Sally had seen the horses, this time bringing along the whole family. They also brought some grain, carrots and apples to entice the horses and gain their trust. A carpet of green grass was beginning to show through the thatched layer of dry grass from the previous year’s growth.

Except for a few frightened, jumpy rabbits, the field was deserted. The kids, especially Matthew, were disappointed.

In the fall, they returned to the same spot to find the hay field lush with tall grass gone to seed swaying in the wind, but again no sign of horses. They thought about going into Millbrook to the mall to find clothes and make the trip worthwhile. However, something in the apple orchard had been interrupting the usual sounds of the past several nights and spooking the dogs. There were still potatoes and pumpkins in the garden that could easily be destroyed in a matter of minutes by a hoard of wild pigs. The goats and the chickens were out and about vulnerable to wild dogs. It was too risky to stay away from the farmhouse for too long.

September 24, 2034

Clark was again awakened for the third night in several days by the barking of the dogs. The disturbance played out in the front yard of the house, but this time Blizzard and Ginger sounded distraught. He jumped out of bed and went to look from the bedroom window. The light from the half-moon didn’t help at all to see what had disturbed the dogs.

Blizzard was doing most of the barking. His bark was sharp, loud and authoritative, not the usual type seeking attention or the upbeat kind wanting to play. Ginger was snarling and growling, directing her fury toward the orchard. The commotion woke up Sally and Katie too, who immediately recognized that something ominous was astir close by.

Clark hastily put on his shirt and pants. “I’m going outside this time to see what is riling up the dogs. I want you to stand by the open window and keep a lookout and tell me what you can see or hear and where.”

Sally held up a lit solar lantern and pleaded, “Be careful.”

From the walk-in closet Clark grabbed two shotguns and loaded both with buckshot. Not knowing or seeing what was out there, the buckshot would give him a better chance of hitting the target even if his aim was less than perfect and making sure that whatever was out there would have a very bad day and never return.

They rarely used the front door of the house, but this time the urgency of the situation overruled formalities. It required swift, decisive action. Clark stepped out into the chilly night and onto the cold, rough floor of the porch. In his haste, he left his boots in the mudroom.

Blizzard and Ginger ran to the steps of the porch when they heard the screech of the door opening. They were happy to see Clark, but mostly relieved that he had heeded their warnings and had come to join them in warding off the danger that lurked in the darkness across the road. They whined to convey their feelings of appreciation and unease.

As soon as Clark stepped off the porch and onto the front lawn, the sound of tree branches snapping like firecrackers set off the dogs again, hackles raised, seething and barking with anger, trying to scare away the threat concealed among the trees. The sounds of beastly grunts triggered fresh memories of four years ago when he got lost in the woods and had disturbed a large, sleeping black bear. This time it was different, more powerful, fearless, and too close for comfort. It made the hairs on his neck rise, too.

The bear had come to the apple orchard to eat and put on the extra pounds needed to hibernate. It was hungry and was not about to sheepishly trundle away.

Bears were supposed to turn and head back to where they came from when they hear a dog barking. With two dogs they should be running for their lives. But this bear was not afraid and the barking only seemed to inflame the wild beast’s aggressive instincts.

Clark thought about shooting a couple of times into the air to scare off the animal. It would be a waste of ammunition, especially if the situation suddenly turned ugly. If the beast wasn’t afraid of the dogs, a couple of shots probably wouldn’t make it go away. In all likelihood it would return another day and possibly attack the livestock or worse someone in the family. He had to confront and kill the bear, but it would be foolish to go after it in the orchard in the dark of night.

The only sensible solution was to draw the bear out in the open where he could get a better shot at the animal. Luring a bear to get closer was maybe not the smartest thing to do. Still it was the best option.

Clark started yelling and hurling all sorts of epithets at the bear to get its attention. Blizzard and Ginger seemed to understand and followed Clark’s ploy, bristling with anger and barking nonstop.

Within moments, shouts of “bear coming toward you” came from the bedroom window, and twin beams of light were focused on the far edge of the road like search lights from a prison tower. Suddenly, a dark object the size of a gorilla came crashing through the grass and out onto the road. Its eyes were aglow like some fiendish Halloween monster, reflecting the light from the solar lanterns. For a moment, Clark was petrified as the bulk of the bear contrasted mightily against the gray background of vegetation.

Brazenly and without hesitation, Blizzard attacked the bear headlong from the side only to be brushed off with one swipe of the bear’s massive paw, sending the dog flying into the darkness. Ginger was not as courageous, but stood daringly several feet between Clark and the bear, making noise. The bear ignored her.

Blizzard reappeared off to the bear’s left, barking and growling, trying to get even with the beast. As the bear turned to take another swipe at Blizzard, Clark took aim and fired his first shot. He wasn’t sure where the buckshot hit the bear, but it did piss off the animal. It bellowed out in pain and rose up on its hind legs in an attempt to terrorize and scare away his tormentors. Clark was ready and fired a second shot, aiming for the chest and throat.

Blizzard attacked the bear from the rear, but all that did was annoy the bear even more. It growled loudly and then dropped on all fours, pointing its head and charging towards Clark. The bear didn’t get too far. Clark took aim at the beast with the second shotgun and in rapid succession fired two more shots. This time the bear dropped in its tracks and slumped to the ground less than ten feet away from Clark, its limbs still thrashing.

To make sure the bear would no longer pose a threat, Clark drew his hunting knife and slit the animal’s throat. Blizzard and Ginger whined and wagged their tails, sharing in the glory of the kill. Clark gathered them in his arms for a big hug, heaping them with praise for their unflinching courage and help.

Blizzard yelped in pain and fell to the ground. He had been wounded by the bear and was bleeding from his shoulder. Clark scooped up Blizzard in his arms and carried him to the kitchen where Sally and Katie tended to their brave companion. Ginger and the kids looked on as Clark uttered soft words of encouragement that everything was going to be alright.

No one slept the rest of the night and when dawn finally crested, Clark and the boys went to inspect the bear. One slug disfigured its nose, another obliterated one of its eyeballs, and there was a hole in its chest. Clark had never killed such a large animal. The bear was a male, measured six feet in length, and must have weighed at least 300 pounds.

Clark had to roll the animal onto a rusty piece of corrugated sheet metal and with the help of the boys dragged it behind the wood shed. He had no idea how to skin a bear, except for the stories he heard from his ranger friend. That was eons ago. All he remembered was that you didn’t hang a bear up by its hind legs like a deer. Or maybe couldn’t, because of its immense weight.

Before he began the gory process of disemboweling the bear, Katie came out to see up close the animal that she had fought off while fishing at the stream seven years prior.

“Hey, look Mama,” Joshua tugged on her sleeve with excitement. “There are five claws on each of the front paws. Dad said he’s going to make a necklace for everyone, including Blizzard and Ginger.”

The bear was a master at gathering calories and storing them for the winter in a thick layer of creamy white fat. Clark cut it away in slabs and then rendered it in a big iron kettle on an outdoor fire. His ranger friend had often boasted that bear grease was good for pan-frying meat, making soap, and rustproofing tools and equipment. It stored better than lard from wild pigs and was more effective than Vaseline. It was also great for making popcorn. The kids had a ball with that idea.

Once diced and sliced, the bear yielded enough meat for the family and the dogs for several months. For a first timer, Clark did a tolerable job skinning and tanning the thick pelt. Understandably though, Katie didn’t want it inside the house. She insisted that Blizzard and Ginger deserved it for their bravery standing up to the beast. The coat of fur eventually found its way into their dog house and became their prized furnishing, keeping them snug and warm during the cold winter months.

If the mission of the NRA, the National Restoration Agency, was to restore wildlife across the country, it certainly achieved that goal, but at what price? Clark and his family had learned that living in a world of expanding wildlife was one full of dangers, hardships and compromises. They had become well aware of the fragility of human life. Still, he had to admit it was better to live in a primitive paradise than in a world filled with human violence and chaos.

Clark and the boys continuously scouted out the surrounding areas and took stock of the presence of wildlife. They found fresh bear tracks, scat and claw marks up the side of trees. Year after year, the herds of deer increased in size and numbers. Wild pigs were overrunning the fields and groves around Farrville, while groundhogs, raccoons and squirrels took up residence in houses. There just weren’t enough natural predators like hawks and bobcats to restore the natural balance and keep a lid on their proliferation. Wild dogs seemed to have disappeared and Clark was worried that wolves and coyotes might one day find their way into the area to replace them.

Protection and predation were becoming just as important as shelter and food. Vigilance and skilled marksmanship were the new order for Clark and his family as they headed into their second decade tucked away in a corner of the world long forgotten.

Anni 2035 - 2036

In the spring and fall of the following two years, they again made the trip to the hayfield on the outskirts of Millbrook in the hopes of encountering and making contact with the horses. Despite the plastic net wrapping, the big bales once plumb and round were starting to sag and, on the side not exposed to the sun, the hay was spoiled and covered in mold and tiny mushrooms.

After three years and six attempts, they finally gave up on finding the horses and settled on judiciously preserving the diesel fuel for the more important tasks of tilling the land and hauling fire wood. They only had fuel to last ten more years.

There was no real need to use the vehicles to drive into Farrville except once a year to get more books and school supplies and check if the town was still standing, although barely. The uninhabited houses were showing signs of accelerated deterioration everywhere.

Eventually, they brought the monks’ car back to the monastery, disconnected the battery, drained the fuel lines, and raised the car off its tires. They kept the beefed up vehicle for when they needed to return to Millbrook for additional clothes and other supplies.

They dedicated their time to making sure they had enough to eat and to raising and educating the kids. Caring for each other and forming a strong family bond was the seed to save civilization, or as much of it as they could manage.

With the help of Clark and Katie, Sally worked on three separate books. One described the demise of civilization following the devastating effects of the solar EMP. They relied on their personal experiences, as well as the accounts from Brothers Matthew and Ezequiel, and the notes from Herschel’s journal.

Based on the documents found in Herschel’s files, Clark added a footnote, challenging the narrative that the Collapse was caused by electromagnetic pulses from the sun, but possibly from high altitude nuclear detonations.

A second book described their escape from the City, their struggle to adapt and survive on the mountain and eke out a living on the farm. Each contributed separate, very personal memories of their special relationship to one another, how they bonded and why. Clark discussed the morality of polygamy and the perils of incest, setting the tone for his children and future generations. It read like an ethical will, articulating values and wisdom, history, stories, and love from one generation to another.

The third book discussed a whole range of techniques they had learned and adapted, as well as technology they knew existed and were able to use. Some entries were very scientific and Sally relied heavily on Katie’s ability to keep things from getting too boring. Over time, many more entries were added based on recollections or new discoveries. Occasionally, previous entries were edited to clarify things or show the evolution of their understanding and application.

Simultaneously, Sally added a fourth book telling the story of each of their children. There were no pictures or videos to chronicle their birth, their infancy, their first steps, their adventures and achievements. Relying on oral memories was too ephemeral. They made for inspiring stories around a radiant fire, but written memories, if well preserved, would tell forever of their individual uniqueness.

June 5, 2039

It was their thirteenth anniversary since arriving from the collapsed City, a lucky number in their estimation, and all the more reason to scale the peak of the mountain once again to prove to themselves that they had defied the odds to survive, and were ready for the challenges ahead.

Blizzard had to stay behind guarding the farm and watch over Ginger and her litter of live pups. She suffered a miscarriage with her first litter probably because she was still too young to carry the fetuses to term. Katie insisted that Blizzard remain chained to his dog house when Ginger went into heat again so that she could fully recuperate from the trauma. Blizzard wasn’t too happy with the arrangement. Then a year later, they let Blizzard knot with Ginger again, their mating ritual being observed under the curious gaze of innocent young eyes.

They left for the mountain right after their morning chores while the temperature was still cool. Not a single cloud marred the infinite beauty of the blue sky on this day, and the green valleys below were refreshing to the eyes like the fresh air that bathed their naked bodies.

They took along strawberries and a watermelon from the garden, and blueberries growing wild at the ranch-style house for a picnic on top of the mountain. For their evening meal at the cabin, they brought meat and fresh corn. They planned on staying at the cabin for the night and packed three sleeping bags for the kids.

The first thing they did when they came down the mountain was jump into the pool to cool off and take a soaking bath. As evening slowly approached, Clark and the boys gathered wood and made a bonfire in front of the cabin, while Sally, Katie and the girls roasted the meat and corn to satisfy voracious appetites, celebrate their good fortune, and welcome the harvest.

Even though they heard them many times before, stories were told of goats and horses, about Blizzard and the bear. Memories were recalled of monks, of weddings and births. And into the night under the canopy of stars, they sang their favorite songs of joy and praise like Old McDonald and He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.

Clark looked around and tried to imagine early humans huddled around a smoldering fire, bonding to stay alive and thrive. Millions of years had passed, but essentially humans hadn’t changed and still yearned to be together to do well for themselves and their descendants.

Exhausted after a long day of fun and adventure, the kids willingly climbed up to the loft and settled down in their sleeping bags. Joshua and Mary slept together in one. Trish zipped the other two together so that she, Fifi and Matthew could curl up and snuggle, too. It was a bit tight and they took forever tossing and turning to mold their bodies and quiet down for the night.

Sally and Katie had other ideas and decided that old habits needed to be revived to relish the opportunity to be back in their old cabin. Clark ended up on his back with Sally impaled on his royal mast, having a wonderful time riding him, while Katie sacrificed her sex to his experienced tongue. They made lots of noise, but were unconcerned about what the kids might hear. They had heard it before anyway.

July 14, 2039

“Daddy, wait for us,” Fifi shouted, chasing after him, with Trish and the boys right behind her. With a shotgun in one hand and a hoe in the other, Clark was heading for the corn field for one final round to knock out the most stubborn weeds.

“Hey, no running with those hoes,” he lectured Fifi and Trish, but glad that they decided to join him in his task.

“Sorry,” Fifi responded. “Daddy, can we go skinning dipping before we start?”

“Yeah, it’s already so hot,” Trish complained, fanning her face with one hand in an apparent ploy to win over Clark’s sympathy. Matthew and Joshua nodded energetically with cheerful, optimistic eyes.

It was indeed another one of those dog days of summer. Normally, Blizzard would enthusiastically follow the kids around, but today he was too busy panting non-stop with tongue dripping and wanted to stay under the giant shady maple tree that dominated the yard next to the house. Ginger was in the barn sprawled on the cool concrete floor with her suckling pups.

“Oh, is that why you left all your clothes in the tool shed?” Clark studied them carefully. They had gotten down to the bare essential of just wearing their sport sandals. He was worried about their lack of modesty even though the Newman’s were the only ones around.

He knew that the kids had outgrown their summer clothes, and Mary and Josh were wearing hand-me-downs. For the past seven years, ever since their first foray into Millbrook, Sally and Katie had been insisting they return to the mall to find something suitable other than winter clothes. There was not a stitch left at the hardware store or the thrift shop in town. They had cleaned out both over the past eleven years and refused to break into homes to search for used clothes that smelled musty, had mold and assuredly dust mites, plus holes from moths, causing itches and sneezes.

The girls were turning thirteen in a couple of months. They were adorable with taut nubile bodies, innocent blue eyes, and little button noses. Trish was more ‘girly’ than her ‘tomboy’ sister Fifi. Even so, it was Trish who insisted on wearing her light brown hair short with bangs like a pageboy, while Fifi liked her blonde hair long and braided in pigtails, making her look like a potential Swedish fashion model.

Clark wondered where the past twelve years had gone. He looked at both with discerning eyes of a parent and noticed for the first time another differentiating feature. A perfectly symmetrical patch, a triangle of curly, silky, light brown hairs, shimmering in the morning sunlight, covered Fifi’s pubic mound above an otherwise puffy, hairless pink young gash. Her cone-shaped boobs had started swelling the previous summer before her twelfth birthday, her waist had gotten thinner, and her hips were round and wider than her shoulders.

Trish was a late bloomer, straight and flat like a boy, and with her short hair made it that much more conspicuous. It was hard to see through the tall, growing oats, yet wisps of golden pubic fluff had sprouted along the fine crevice of her perfectly shaped Bermuda Triangle like downy plumage on a duckling ready to fan out and cover her prominent mound. Tiny buds in a circle of pinkness on small bumps were starting to grow high up on her chest. Her titties and hips would probably fill out by spring.

Having two Lolitas running around naked with long, coltish soccer legs budding into their sexuality would have been a major concern before the Collapse even out in the remote boondocks. He admitted being lax and a softie with the girls, not sure if he could hold down the fort if boys their age were in the neighborhood eager to see them twerking their sun-toned bubble butts.

And why not? At thirteen he did with every chance he got, often spending hours at school gawking at the girls in his field of vision and speculating about their anatomy.

“Mama said we were old enough to wash our own clothes from now on,” Trish said frowning and shrugging.

“ ... and Matt’s and Josh’s, too,” Fifi amended. “So if we don’t get them dirty, there’s less to wash.”

“Yeah, and I told the boys to stop wearing their clothes, too,” Trish said, pointing at them and gloating in her achievement.

Matthew at the tender age of ten and Joshua eight listened to their sisters, but got along better with Trish and did whatever she told them to do. All four were quite clever and practical for their age and were learning things about each other that most kids before the Collapse usually discovered late and often from misinformed kids or inappropriate sources.

Almost as soon as spring decided it was going to be summer, they were all too happy to burst out of the house and run around with little or no clothing and without a care in the world. They had no second thoughts or inhibitions nor were they bashful about their lack of modesty ever since they were little.

Being naked felt as natural as being seen naked. And nobody made fun of what they looked like, except for a few giggles from the girls seeing the animations below the boys’ bellybuttons.

They loved the giddy freedom of not being hemmed in by their clothes, and now with the option of not having to wash them, it became an added bonus to their level of freedom, and they blossomed. The idea of wearing clothes other than for comfort and safety was something that they didn’t want to think about, and they dreaded the onset of fall and dropping of temperatures because that meant they would be giving up their natural freedom.

Sally and Katie let the kids go naked so that they would never have to be ashamed of their bodies and sexuality, and were just as guilty of wandering around au naturel, as an example for the kids, especially when doing laundry, hoeing the garden with only their boots on, or simply enjoying life’s moments of happiness.

Clothing was scarce and hard to come by. It was just as difficult to wash, mend and keep them from getting frazzled. To save wear and tear and washing, the kids were sent outside to play “as God created them,” Katie would always say. That was especially true now with five active, energetic kids. Getting them out of the house to play or wander around with Clark in their birthday suits was not difficult. With plenty of sunshine and water, and no clean clothes to spoil, it was not only practical, but they convinced themselves, healthier for body and soul, and more fun, too. They felt that the spirit of innocence and carefree abandonment of childhood was a birthright given by Mother Nature to be cherished always.

It was like a miracle unfolding before their eyes watching the kids grow as certain shapes and sizes became more noteworthy. However, bare legs always ended up with a lot of scrapes and scratches just moving through tall grass and brush, especially between the rows of corn with their serrated edged leaves.

Clark often wondered what would happen if a minor cut or spill or open wound turned into a more serious threat to life and limb. Their lives were fragile in comparison to what it was like before the Collapse. Life always came with risks, but now they had to redouble their awareness to risks and not take chances. They no longer had the support structure of doctors, hospitals, and medicine to fall back on when accidents happened or illnesses struck. Government health care had become an entitlement, until someone got sick and then discovered often too late that it was an individual responsibility by making the right decisions and choices in life.

They had run out of antibiotic ointments from the Farrville drug store that were now more valuable than all the gold and silver hidden in the treasure chest sitting in the parlor. All they had was each other and home remedies they had been learning to make from Mrs. Wheeler’s collection of books and notes.

Even so, running around without clothes had an added benefit. It not only forced the kids to be more cautious when handling tools or to think where they were stepping to avoid getting hurt, but also to look out for each other for the very same reasons.

“Well, I knew from the day we adopted you both that you were going to be smart cookies,” Clark told the girls grinning. “But, before we go to the stream, let’s first hoe a few rows each and go over yesterday’s lesson about photosynthesis and pollination. Matt and Josh can go ahead of you and pull up the bigger weeds. Deal?”

The corn plants had reached their maximum height and were shading out the few tenacious weeds that struggled to catch the sun’s rays. Their pale green color and spindly stems contrasted sharply with the exuberant green leaves and stout stalks of the corn and served as a reminder of what the girls knew about photosynthesis.

“Very well,” Clark praised them. “Who can explain to me how pollination works with corn?”

Two hands sprang into the air and Clark called on Trish who was a little faster.

“That pointy thing up there on the top is a tassel and is the male part of the plant and it makes pollen,” she answered bravely.

Clark pointed to Fifi to continue.

“The pollen floats down like fine yellow dust onto these silky hairs and makes the kernels grow inside the ear, the female part,” Fifi beamed knowing she got it right.

“You two are so smart, and cute too,” he praised them. “So remember, without pollination, most plants cannot produce healthy seeds or kernels for new baby plants to germinate and grow and continue the cycle of life.”

“Mama said that you pollinated her and that’s how Josh was born,” Trish said trying to sound smart.

“Me too,” Matthew stood still long enough to join in the conversation while tugging the foreskin of his chubby peenie, as they called it.

“Well, that’s true,” Clark said with a hint of trepidation. “But I’m not a plant and I don’t make pollen.”

The kids turned to each other and giggled like they knew more than they were willing to admit. Whatever they did know apparently had not traumatized them. Still, Clark didn’t want to embarrass neither them nor himself by going into details about the “birds and the bees” and decided to wait for the right moment with Sally and Katie by his side.

There were only six more rows to hoe and sometimes it was easier just to uproot the weeds by hand, a job which Matthew and Josh pulled off easily. In no time they finished their morning chore and trotted to the stream for their long awaited dip. Blizzard, who had gathered enough courage to join them, almost knocked Josh over in his rush to be the first to reach the water.

The kids screamed and shrieked as they stepped into the water, bracing themselves against the cold bite of the mountain fed water. It was definitely cold, but not any worse than the cold showers back at the farmhouse. Splashing water on each other quickly turned into a free-for-all, as the kids ganged up on Clark, trying to wrestle him down and pile on top of him, while Blizzard jumped and barked from the side line, desperate to find a way to get in on the fun, too.

“Kids, you know we should have brought our fishing poles,” Clark said after soaking awhile.

“Me and Josh can go get them,” Matthew offered his voice full of boyhood glee. Josh looked like he preferred to stay in the water.

“That’s Josh and I,” Clark corrected him. “Besides, we’ve probably scared away all the fish, but we can come back later in the afternoon when it’s not so hot and try to catch our supper.”

There was agreement all around with Matthew bragging and spreading his hands to show the size of the fish he was going to catch.

“Daddy,” Trish spoke up as all six, including Blizzard, sat on a large flat rock letting the warm air dry their bodies. “Why were we adopted?”

Clark knew this question would come up one day, but neither he nor Sally and Katie had really prepared for it. They often brought up the topic in an indirect way saying how wonderful it was when they brought them home.