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To be home, our bunker was our home, took so much pressure off, to see all our family together, Trevor was minutes away, returning from Solon with, as he described her, a very powerful woman, hmmm, Jill could almost see her, sensed her good vibe, that meant something.

Bobby and Joanie were manning the security room, also chatting with ham operators all around the world, as the internet was starting to crash worldwide, world gone dark. Joanie explained that the whole world was in a rage, rioting, lawlessness, anarchy for the sake of anarchy. Gave them both a hug, asked Ronnie about Cain, her hesitation, her nervousness, enough to alert Jill, as we opened the door to his room, I was ready to kill, wow, the room was empty, the fuck had disappeared.

We got Ronnie and Mommy to agree they felt a frigid blast of air, then there was a slight cloudy vapor racing across the room and through the wall, what the fuck, over. Everyone was jumpy, tough to even comprehend the shit going down, we got everone settled down, Jill explaining that Cain was a vessel for evil, was no longer human, wasn't even alive, a zombie for Lucy.

He knew all our secrets, Jills laugh, it didn't fuck matter, Lucy already knew, Cain was meant to stay with us till the real war came, that he was to visible, his evil to apparent, he had failed, Lucy had failed, Jills power trumped all.

My turn, ordered everyone to get to work, something always needed doing, sent Marcel and Fred to escort Trevor back to camp. The one Statie had died, the other two looked tough, open, bloody wounds, the way Jill looked, the bright white surrounding her, powering her, her hands gently pressing on the cops wounds, the way the holes closed up, all gone, surreal, my girl, my Goddess. The cops were weeping, hugging Jills legs, the rest of us pretty much stunned out, I mean that was it, Jill didn't heal them a little, she changed them, changed the laws of physics, that was fairly godlike.

She helped the cops up, told Fran to outfit them, arm them, their ready agreement, they would war for Jill, they would die for Jill, building our army, gathering our warriors, Jills giggle, these cops had one thought process, protect their Queen, building our Royal Bodyguards.

We were all gathered around the punk we had caught burning a nearby barn, he was naked, hanging by his hands, feet feet off the ground.

His stomach and back were crisscrossed with angry purple bruises from being carried in Marcels powerful jaws, the fag was on the verge of insanity, unable to control his bladder or bowels, pig. Jills honesty, telling the fag he was going to return to Hell soon, first we would torture him brutal, Jills smile, Lucy felt his pain, this she knew, just as Jill felt Roberts bullet wound as if she were hit, Jills rage, she would make him pay for his sins, would send him back to his Mistress broken and shamed.

Jesus, sweet fuck jesus, things kept getting stranger, degrees stranger, as Trevor broke through the trees, his Harley had been customized, armor plated all over, there were machine guns, Uzis, resting on each hand grip, but who he was carrying was freaky, she had to be the biggest woman ever, it was comical the way the bike kept tipping back, her weight easily four hundred pounds, but not till they got off the bike did we realize she was at least six foot six, lots of fat, but the muscle was there, she was not soft, even her mountainous tits appeared rock solid, this was one scary broad.

She was wearing mens clothes, all blue denim, pants tucked in to her bright red cowboy boots, her button down shirt embroided with red roses, shirt sleeves missing, ripped biceps exposed,around her ample waist a holster, looked like matching S and W Model s she was carrying, the unquestioned most powerful hand gun ever, fuck ever, matching cannons, the was a. Let everyone have their fun with the punk, lots of fun, he was quickly reduced to a babbling idiot, all of us guys ass raped him, while the girls destroyed his cock and balls, using knives and pliers to rip him up, his balls hanging free from his ripped open sack, how his sphincter flexed with his pain, quite a fun ride, as I ice picked his back silly, driving my excited rod up his bloody butt, evil would be broken.

Jill decided that the fool wasn't fit for human comsumption, Marcel and Fred had no such reservations, Fred chuckling, he ate squirrel, raw for fuck sake, this was prime rib compared, aha, every fox is a wise guy. Let the weakened fag get a running start before our animals had him in pieces, beautiful to watch, killing machines, the way Marcel and Fred shared their booty with the other meat eating animals in the compound was quite endearing, Jills wish, that fuck humans could learn from that heavy shit.

One of our joys, having dinner with the assembled troops, minus Grover and Jan who were on perimeter patrol, with Marcel and Fred, it was a deeply relaxing thing, a way for all of us to share ideas, worries, a dredging of our collective mind.

Jill and I sat at a table with Tommy and Robert, an Officers Mess if you will, the need for a chain of command right, everyone enjoying Ronnie and Moms cooking, our need for calories big, the way we all were ravenous, like as if this wild life left us faminished for sustenance, to watch all our children, happy, all confident in their skin, all part of our blanket of good, a part freaks and losers, together beautiful and righteous.

The conversation flowing when Donna dropped a bomb, just throwing it out there like a bit of nothing, it was everything.

Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, sub yard, nuclear sub yard, that the USS Virginia, a kick ass kill machine, head of its own class of sub, was in drydock, its eight KT W nuclear warheads, removed from the Tomahawk missles on board the drydocked sub, stored at the closed prison, guarded by marines, that the subs twelve Harpoon missles were sitting in a weapons shed pierside, still carrying their five hundred pound high explosive warhead, not nuclear, but quite spectacualr all the same.

Harpoons could easily be configured to surface to surface, Roberts piping in, the arms guy up Moosehead way had a MK Harpoon ground launcher, that Donna knew all this, she tried to contact the authorities, all cops were the authorities to our librarian, her sarcasm heavy. As with most times in her life, she was met with ridicule, her huge shrug, if she knew their were such weapons laying about, Lucy surely knew as well.

Like a bell went off, everyone scrambling, talking, trying to do everything, doing nothing. My booming voice got them all in order, everyone was to turn to, do their chores, work on shit, turn in early, watches set, time for some reflection, Jill and I walking the compound, her desire to act fast, saw those weapons as an answer, Donna was here for a reason, to guide us, her moral shield larger even than her freak big body. Brought everyone not on watch, Cammy was with Marcel and Fred, ideas, Bobby downloading classified photos and video of the base, brought back memories, the red brick buildings, quaint cobblestones, the imposing brick prison on the slight hill, kidding that Jack Nicholson was great there, the kids wondering what he was in for, wow, told them their assingment was to watch the Last Detail, when actors acted, or something.

Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, named for a city in NH, was in Maine, an island, two lane road to enter the base from the mainland, the rest surrounded by water, the guard house staffed by rent a cops, getting in would be easy, even with monitors, so many alleys, the buildings endless, how to get at the nukes, stored in the prison, Donnas confidence, they were in the basement, in a max security cell, nice, see, the Marines knew how to make things tough for us.

Joanie gave us a detailed diagram of all the buildings, loaded into our blackberrys, everyone left, except me and Robert, we would draw up a plan, assigments, much to plan, little time, Jills parting wisdom, not to overplan, let our babies do their thing, the way everyone eyes followed her, as she slipped into our chamber, my baby, our sun, we did nor survive without the Queen.

We figured speed was the key, having access to their base intranet, we could see their schedules, watch changes, when Robert showed me the pay stubs for the civilian guards out front, eight dollars an hour, wow, surely the price of security was higher than that, we could eliminate the front gate as a worry, Trevor and Donna would take them out, their was always two guards, at eight an hour, why not three, ha ha, no difference, we would slaughter them, after Trevor and Donna would back up our asault team.

Would instruct Trevor to take the guards out softly, give the rest of us time to fan out, wanted a full fire line, not crazy about killing grunts, but we had to have those warheads, rather Lucy could not get them, Jills solemn warning, Lucy would end the world with them, it was as heavy as possible, no middle ground, failure not an option.

Tommy would lead his unit, Cammy, Bobby and Joanie to the sub, take out the three Marine sentries, get the stored Harpoons, they would be loaded on a tram, could be towed by any of the hyper golf carts lying around the yard, they had forklifts that would load the thousand pound missles into the semi.

Gover and Jan would patrol the front gate, stop any local cops from answering any gunfire, guard the eighteen wheeler we would steal from a truck yard in Portsmouth, Grover would drive the weapons back to the compound, escorted by our motorcade of bikes and weaponed up pickup.

Ronnie and Mom again would guard the home front, their roles cemented, accepted, Ronnies need to excel at weapons training, she wanted to be with us, set in stone, her and Mom were our own version of the National Guard.

Marcel and Fred would patrol the outer base, pick off any stragglers, less chance of our being flanked, Marcel would also tow a tram to the prison door when called, speed up our removal of the nukes. Left our assault team, Me, Jill, Robert, Sarah, Trevor and Donna, would have to be ruthless, already called that shit, dispatch everyone in our way, no time to be hesitant, we had the interior of the prison commited to memory, my biggest fear, getting the six hundred pound warheads out of the cellar, figured the jarheads got them down there, and they were never accused of excess heavy lifting, Roberts suggestion, bring portable winches, winch the fuckers up to the ground floor, the inner prison open from the bottom to the fourth floor, see, cover all holes, do not ignore rays of sunlight poking through your plan, lest they become raging infernos, castrophe.

Her body as ever warm, comforting, crawling into bed with Jill was always the best feeling, her sigh at my soft embrace, her smile in the barely clock light, my everything.

Her magic hands thrilling my skin, the gentle rubbing of her silky smooth ass cheeks against my aware cock, slipping into her with sureness, our love, familiar, yet always better, how she led me with her frantic ass waves, the way her fingers sought out my face, as if to make sure, her need still there, her trauma of dead daddy deep. Our cums unified, rolling her through several always leaving me so sated, like my purpose done, satisfy the Queen.

Weight of the world, still, we slept content, sure in our righteousness.

/p>

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A north-bound hiker with a bear bell clipped to his pack hadn't reached the shelter clearing yet, but would appear through the trees at any moment. The couple at the picnic table looked up, startled, brought back to the real world too quickly from their orgasmic reverie. He yanked his shorts up while she pulled a sports bra over her cum-spattered tits. He held open her shorts while she madly pushed her legs into them, disregarding her underwear.

They grabbed whatever was left and turned in my direction. Oh God, Oh God, I fumbled and failed to close my shorts with sticky slick fingers as they saw me. The guy looked down at the damp crotch of my askew panties and grinned sheepishly without making eye contact. But she looked right at me. She smiled, unconcerned about the cum-stains showing through her blue sports bra. She winked as she passed. And then they disappeared, running up the trail the way I had come.

In a stupor I stumbled to the picnic table. The aroma of their fuck-break dissipated slowly in the still air, and a slick outline of her open vag was drying into the wooden bench. I badly needed to get off—to feel a release of all this tension that had been building over the last couple of days. But the bell kept ringing and a moment later a crew of four hikers emerged through the trees. I was just leaving. I knew I was being a bitch, but I had too many raw emotions to try to fake civility.

Antietam shelter was only another mile or so ahead. I was hungry but I needed the walk to clear my head. It left my head spinning. My stream of consciousness was more like a raging torrent, and I didn't even try to contain it.

I just let it flow over me and before I knew it, I was at Antietam. I unlimbered my pack, tossed it on the picnic table, and pulled out my meal bags to find some lunch. That's when I discovered my big problem. When we restock, Bryan and I split the food evenly, so I should have had enough food to last just myself until the next mail-drop.

But as I looked over my supplies, I realized that Bryan must have been cooking from my pack first. Probably some misguided attempt at chivalry to make my pack lighter sooner. Under other conditions, I could have probably forgiven him, but now I'm left with only four full meals and three days until I resupply. Bryan, you fucking asshole, I'm going to be hungry until Harper's Ferry.

While I ate about half the lunch I had been looking forward to, I took inventory. Of our shared equipment, I had the camp stove, but he had the fuel canisters. Once the current can runs out, I'd be cooking on a fire or eating cold. He also had the first aid kit, the clean-up kit, and the solar charger. I'd better send my folks a text before my battery is gone. I had the water filter, the repair kit, and even though we usually split it between us, the whole tent.

It wasn't great, but it could be worse. I'd be hungry and dirty with no phone until Harper's Ferry but at least I could keep going. With inventory taken, I set off again but I was still a wreck emotionally. My rage-driven pace of the morning slowed to a sort of shell-shocked meander. I moved forward without really walking, just sort of drifting along the trail, unconscious of everything and everyone I passed.

The protein bars I'd had for lunch left me hungry for more and the gnawing in my stomach had to compete with the ache in my heart and the unsatisfied yearning in my shorts. Somehow I managed to keep it together and pushed on until I reached the Deer Lick shelter a little before sunset. In the gloaming twilight I suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable. Bryan, you fucking asshole, you left me all alone out here. Alone in the woods in the dark, I was both terrified and numb.

I unrolled my sleeping bag in one of the two shelters; I treated a blister with a bit of duct tape because Bryan took the first aid kit; I ate a cold dinner because Bryan took all the stove fuel; I rinsed off with cold water because Bryan took the soap; and I went to bed alone. As I lay awake, every snap and rustle in the woods was a new terror in my raw imagination.

I tried to sleep, but my mind was a dervish of conflicting thoughts and emotions. I tried to masturbate, but I couldn't focus on anything arousing. I tried to cry, but I just felt dead inside. A small, besieged part of me that still wanted to carry on managed to get up and on the trail. Today would be a long a day—23 miles to Pine Knob. As I trudged along the trail, stomach growling and eyelids heavy, I started to think about quitting. Maybe I would just bail at Harper's Ferry—try again another year with someone else.

Somehow I managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I'd decided to use the last of my stove fuel for half of a hot dinner tonight. I had a pouch of freeze-dried Jamaican jerk chicken with rice—one of my favorites. I'd eat half tonight and save half for breakfast. It was late afternoon when I rolled into Pine Knob. The day had been hot and muggy again, and gathering clouds overhead threatened rain. Four others hikers were there ahead of me, preparing their dinner at the picnic table.

They had a campfire built. Still in no mood to be social, I just waved hello, tossed my pack in the shelter, and found a flat piece of ground away from the others to cook my dinner.

My stomach was growling after a meager breakfast and lunch, but I just needed to boil two cups of water for the chicken and rice I'd been looking forward to all day.

The stove claimed it could boil two cups of water in about two minutes. Ninety second later the stove sputtered and died, the last of the fuel canister spent. That was the last straw. I collapsed on my ass and I cried. Bryan, you fucking asshole, how could you do this to me? I probably sat there on the ground sobbing for as much time as it should have taken to boil two damn cups of water, when a hand touched my shoulder and a gentle voice said "S'cuse me, but On the Appalachian Trail—where every ounce you carry makes a difference—some idiot had actually hauled a can of beer all the way up here!

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Harpoons could easily be configured to surface to surface, Roberts piping in, the arms guy up Moosehead way had a MK Harpoon ground launcher, that Donna knew all this, she tried to contact the authorities, all cops were the authorities to our librarian, her sarcasm heavy.

As with most times in her life, she was met with ridicule, her huge shrug, if she knew their were such weapons laying about, Lucy surely knew as well.

Like a bell went off, everyone scrambling, talking, trying to do everything, doing nothing. My booming voice got them all in order, everyone was to turn to, do their chores, work on shit, turn in early, watches set, time for some reflection, Jill and I walking the compound, her desire to act fast, saw those weapons as an answer, Donna was here for a reason, to guide us, her moral shield larger even than her freak big body.

Brought everyone not on watch, Cammy was with Marcel and Fred, ideas, Bobby downloading classified photos and video of the base, brought back memories, the red brick buildings, quaint cobblestones, the imposing brick prison on the slight hill, kidding that Jack Nicholson was great there, the kids wondering what he was in for, wow, told them their assingment was to watch the Last Detail, when actors acted, or something.

Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, named for a city in NH, was in Maine, an island, two lane road to enter the base from the mainland, the rest surrounded by water, the guard house staffed by rent a cops, getting in would be easy, even with monitors, so many alleys, the buildings endless, how to get at the nukes, stored in the prison, Donnas confidence, they were in the basement, in a max security cell, nice, see, the Marines knew how to make things tough for us.

Joanie gave us a detailed diagram of all the buildings, loaded into our blackberrys, everyone left, except me and Robert, we would draw up a plan, assigments, much to plan, little time, Jills parting wisdom, not to overplan, let our babies do their thing, the way everyone eyes followed her, as she slipped into our chamber, my baby, our sun, we did nor survive without the Queen. We figured speed was the key, having access to their base intranet, we could see their schedules, watch changes, when Robert showed me the pay stubs for the civilian guards out front, eight dollars an hour, wow, surely the price of security was higher than that, we could eliminate the front gate as a worry, Trevor and Donna would take them out, their was always two guards, at eight an hour, why not three, ha ha, no difference, we would slaughter them, after Trevor and Donna would back up our asault team.

Would instruct Trevor to take the guards out softly, give the rest of us time to fan out, wanted a full fire line, not crazy about killing grunts, but we had to have those warheads, rather Lucy could not get them, Jills solemn warning, Lucy would end the world with them, it was as heavy as possible, no middle ground, failure not an option. Tommy would lead his unit, Cammy, Bobby and Joanie to the sub, take out the three Marine sentries, get the stored Harpoons, they would be loaded on a tram, could be towed by any of the hyper golf carts lying around the yard, they had forklifts that would load the thousand pound missles into the semi.

Gover and Jan would patrol the front gate, stop any local cops from answering any gunfire, guard the eighteen wheeler we would steal from a truck yard in Portsmouth, Grover would drive the weapons back to the compound, escorted by our motorcade of bikes and weaponed up pickup. Ronnie and Mom again would guard the home front, their roles cemented, accepted, Ronnies need to excel at weapons training, she wanted to be with us, set in stone, her and Mom were our own version of the National Guard.

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