("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive Name: mykids09.txt (Mmf, ped, inc, bi, oral, anal, ws, scat) Authors name: Master Chris (address withheld) Story title : MY KIDS Part 9 of 13 --------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1996. Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. --------------------------------------------------- Braking Free I knew going back to the house was out of the question, they would probably be watching it. On the other hand, maybe they would communicate via the house, it was the only way they knew of finding us. Come to think of it, they had no way of knowing where we live, but knew that I could find them. They were expecting me to contact them, maybe walk into whatever trap they had set. God knows, they had the bait. These and other thoughts were racing through my mind as I drove away from the cemetery. The state of the kids with me didn't help settle my nerves either. They were all pretty excited and scared when they saw Steven and found out that Susie and Stephanie were missing. Before I had a chance to develop some kind of cover story for them, Steven had inadvertently spilled the beans and now they were all pestering me to do something. I would, I assured them, although I had no idea yet what it might be. In addition to the .45, I had a 12-gauge shotgun, a 30-30 rifle and two 9 mm pistols. Not much of an arsenal for what I had to do and I knew I would need help. Steven, for all his courage, was not going to be of much help. The girls were all too young and I wasn't going to ask Juanita, she felt bad enough because she considered herself to be the cause of the whole incident. I tried to comfort her by saying it wasn't her disappearance that led to it, but my having beat up her father. She smiled, but didn't really buy it. I pulled into a trailer park along the highway which offered space and hookups for motor homes and we all bedded down for the night. As I lay there racking my brain for ideas I thought of how perfect this would have been under other circumstances. Here I was, alone in a motor home with my son, surrounded by seven little girls. With Susie and Steffi missing, though, the thought did not arouse nor linger. Sleep was slow in coming and not very restful when it did. I was awakened by the sound of tapping on the door. It was still dark. More tapping. I pulled the .45 out from under the mattress and cleared the safety. I tried to see who it was, but it was too dark. Finally, I heard a whisper, "Hey, you in there...this is the park manager...I have a message for you. Wake up!" 'What the hell could be so important as to bring him out here in the middle of the night?' I pondered the possibilities. I lifted the curtain slightly and peeked outside, the .45, cocked, in my hand. He was alone alright. I lowered the window. "What is it? What time is it?" I asked him. "Three- thirty. A guy left this note for you about five minutes ago, said I was to deliver it immediately and said you'd give me twenty bucks for it. Must be pretty important." I fished in my pants for my wallet and found a ten and two ones and offered them to him. He groused a bit, but handed me the note through the window and, muttering, shuffled back to his own bed. I looked around, but could see nothing that appeared out of the ordinary. I closed the window, sat down and opened the note. 'Gringo,' it started, 'if you want to see your Chiquita's again you will obey these instructions. First, bring Juanita back to where you stole her. Second, come alone, except for the girl. Third, do this at 2 pm tomorrow afternoon. Fourth, park in the alley behind the house, get out of your vehicle and walk through the backyard and knock on the back door. We will exchange of your two girls for Juanita. Do it or else.' It wasn't signed, but it seemed authentic. They must have been watching at the cemetery and followed us here. I dropped onto the bunk and closed my eyes, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. I did not want to let Juanita go back there, but I couldn't leave Susie and Steffi with them. Sleep eluded me for most of what remained of the night. The sun shining in through a crack in the blind woke me from a restive sleep. I opened my eyes, blinked a couple of times, and then noticed that I was not in bed alone. In the crook of my left elbow lay Jenny, curled up with her bare ass pressed against my waist. I carefully pulled my arm free of her grasp and stood up. All the kids appeared to be asleep and I saw no reason to bother them. The twins were wrapped up in each other's arms, their mouths nearly touching. Juanita was stretched face down across Steven's stomach, her cast across his throat. I was surprised he could breathe. Together they formed a plus sign. Her legs were hanging off the bunk and her pretty, brown butt stuck out invitingly. I reached out and stroked her smooth cheeks. 'If only the situation were different...' I thought as I felt the crack of her ass. I put away those thoughts and began to dress. Little Linda and Sadie lay together in the overcab bunk. They were still sound asleep and pretty well tangled up in each other. Perhaps I slept more soundly than I thought. As I pulled on my shoes Lori awoke and sat up in her bed. "Are we going now?" she whispered, "Can I ride up front with you?" I couldn't resist looking over her little seven- year-old body. "Of course you can, honey. Get dressed." She stood up and stretched her arms toward the roof. She really was a lovely child, pale white skin, little pink nipples slightly elongated by her stretching, slender, almost skinny, legs and a perfect pussy mound with a delightful slit that was always slightly open. She turned around to pick up her clothing from the bed and I eyed her beautiful, pale buttocks. I let my mind wander momentarily into the crack of that ass, into the anal pucker, past the sphincter, into her little girl rectum. I could feel the tightness of the opening as I squeezed past it. The humid steaminess of the canal through which her bowels ejected her fecal waste was dark and warm. I continued into her intestines until something soft and mushy blocked my progress. I began to eat my way through it. My journey would end only in her mouth and then she would swallow me and I would resume my travels, this time in the opposite direction. My reverie was broken by a cry from Steven. He had awakened to the pain and soreness from the day before striking him full force. He startled Juanita awake as well and she fell onto the floor, very nearly turning a somersault. Her cry of surprise at being so rudely awakened was loud enough to awaken first Jenny, then the twins. Linda and Sadie continued sleeping. I noticed that Juanita had a streak of what appeared to be dried semen running from her lower lip to the tip of her chin. Mine? I had been sleeping rather soundly, but I doubted I could have slept through that...no, it was probably Steven's. It made me feel more confident about his condition. We all did our morning rituals that took close to an hour, ate cold cereal and milk and left the park at around nine. Five hours to go. I had a lot of planning to do and I needed to get some help first. I kept checking the rear-view mirror, but no one appeared to be following us. At nine-forty-five I pulled up in front of my brother- in-law's house. Jim was Paula's older brother and was a very amiable ex-marine. He would not understand or have compassion for a pedophile, but he would go to any length to help his nieces out of trouble. After all the greetings and Jim had been introduced to the four newcomers, he and down with a cup of coffee while the kids played in the backyard. Wasting no time, I didn't have any to waste, I laid my cards on the table. I explained about the 'adopted' kids and how Juanita had been beaten by her father and that I was going to adopt her, albeit illegally. Then I dropped the bombshell, "Her father has friends and he wants her back. I'm not going to let her go back, but they've got Susie and Stephanie. I need your help getting them back." "Jesus, Charles!" he cried, "What the hell have you gotten yourself into here?" He sipped his coffee with a puzzled look on his face as I sat there waiting, saying nothing. He had been involved in some kind of commando bullshit in various places around the world, starting in Viet Nam. He never talked about it, but his eyes sometimes revealed a killer instinct. That look was in his eyes now. "How many of them are there?" he asked. He was already making plans. I had the help I needed, the sides were now even, maybe even a little in our favor. "Four that I know of, maybe more, but I doubt it." I paused to let this sink in, "I know where they are, or at least where they'll be at two this afternoon." "We can't wait 'til then," he said calmly, I noted the 'we' indicating he was in, "we'll have to strike earlier. Do you know the layout of the house?" "No, but Juanita does," I offered. "Well, let's go then, get her in here." As Juanita described her former home, Jim made a floor-plan sketch, noting especially doors and windows. When it was done he quizzed her about her father's friends and determined that there would likely be only the four men I had seen at the courthouse. We, or rather he, formulated a plan and rehearsed it a couple of times. By eleven-thirty we were ready to go. The kids would stay here with Ann, Jim's wife, while we took care of some 'personal business'. Jim grabbed a duffel bag from his garage while I retrieved the weapons from the motor home. We tossed it all into the trunk of his Camaro, got in and drove off. It was exhilarating to have a friend, yet I was frightened. Jim and I had known each other many years, had helped each other in various ways in that time and I didn't want to cause him any trouble, either with the guys we were about to pay a visit or with the law. But my two little girls' lives were at stake. We pulled into the alley, a half block short of our destination. It was not quite noon and they would be unlikely to be watching for anyone yet. I slipped the .45 into my belt under the jacket and shoved one of the 9 mm pistols down the front of my shorts, I figured if they frisked me they would be unlikely to feel there. Scared the hell out of me anyway, what if it went off...oh, well. I got out of the car and walked toward the house. It looked quiet and unoccupied...no movement, no sound. I didn't know what Jim intended to do, but I was to get one or even two of the Mexicans outside by saying Juanita was in the car in the alley. I was to distract anyone in the house until Jim could get there. "Juan!" I heard someone shout, "El gringo esta aqui!" Then I saw it...a rifle barrel pointed at me out of the back window. "Where is Juanita?" the voice asked. "In the car," I answered, "where are my girls?" The voice with the rifle said something in Spanish to someone else and turned his attention back to me. "Come to the porch and put your arms straight out to your sides." They weren't going to be too co-operative. I did as I was told and figured the .45 was gone. The door opened and one of the men came out, frisked me quickly, took the .45 and told me to step inside. I walked into the darkened house. The man who had searched me handed the gun to the man with the rifle and walked toward the alley. Apparently, he was going to check the car. "You are early, gringo," said the man with the rifle, "why?" I hadn't recognized Juanita's father by his voice, but he still wore the marks of the beating I had given him. His nose was bandaged and both eyes were black. "I was afraid for my girls, where are they?" "They are fine, senor," Juan answered, "They are asleep." I wanted to get to the front room so I demanded to see the girls before we could cut a deal. "I brought your girl just as your note said. Let me see what I came for." He pushed me into the front room, jabbing the barrel of the rifle into my back hard. I flinched, so he did it again as I walked toward the other room. One man was lying on the floor in a corner, seemingly asleep, and another sat on a chair at a table by the window. My heart leapt as I spotted Susie and Stephanie lying together on a couch covered by a blanket. They, too, seemed to be sleeping. "You see, senor," continued the rifle man, "I am a man of my word. Soon Carlos will bring my Nina here and you can leave with yours." I knew he was not about to let me go unharmed unless...I glanced at the girls again. They weren't sleeping, they were drugged. I put my ear to each little chest. They were alive, but their breathing was shallow. I heard chuckling behind me and from the corner of my eye saw Juan turn to look at the other man. I reached into my crotch and extracted the pistol. Raising myself to a crouch I brought the pistol underneath my body and fired. The shot caught Juan in the upper chest knocking him backward into the wall. As he raised the rifle I fired twice more dropping him to the floor, the rifle dropping from his hands. The other man jumped on my back as I fired the third shot and I felt the blade of a knife press against my chin, slicing into the skin. Before I could grab the arm with the knife a volley of shots rang out and the arm grew limp and the body fell from my back onto the floor. Jim stood in the doorway, the AK-47 still smoking. He had a wild look in his eyes, as though he were on a hunt-and- kill patrol in the jungle. "What about him?" he asked, gesturing toward the motionless figure on the floor in the corner. "Forget him," I said, "let's get out of here before the cops come." He picked up Susie, wrapped her in the blanket and I picked up Steffi, folding my jacket around as and we walked hurriedly back to the car. We laid the girls on the backseat, they were still out, and drove away. I couldn't believe how easy it had been. "They hurt 'em, didn't they?" Jim was still pumped, "God damn it, I hate anybody who hurts a kid." "Just drugs, I think, PCP probably," I didn't know what the hell I was talking about, "they'll be ok, but we'd better get them to a doctor." "Ann's been working emergency at the hospital for the past two years now," Jim said, "she's seen lots of OD's...let's have her take a look at them first." As we sped through the streets toward Jim's house I inwardly wept. For joy because the girls were back and still alive, although not completely alright. For sadness because I could never be honest with Jim and his wife again. Perhaps I could never be completely honest with anyone again. Ann checked the girls, determined that what they needed first to be awakened right away, then an emetic to empty their stomachs, a diuretic and lots of water and then walking, walking and more walking. They needed to be kept awake to keep the drug moving out of their bodies rather than settling into settling into their organs. She administered the emetic immediately and I listened to the poor little kids retching their guts out for several minutes. After washing them and dressing them we took them outside and walked them around the backyard for several hours with frequent breaks for bathroom trips. The other kids helped too, taking turns walking Susie and Steffi. They thought it was fun. Finally, around six o'clock, Ann checked pulse, heartbeat, breathing and eyes and pronounced them beyond risk. They could finally go to sleep and I could finally breathe easier. After all the kids had gone to bed the three of us, Ann, Jim and I, sat down at the kitchen table. I told them of my plan to leave the state and set up business elsewhere and that with everything that had happened in the last couple of days, the sooner we left, the better. We watched the late news and, although the story of the shootings was covered, there was nothing said as to who might have done it. It turned out that the house had a PCP lab in the basement and the shootings were attributed to conflict over drug turf or a deal gone sour. The police were apparently writing it off as a class-3 homicide, case open: investigation inactive. We stayed with Ann and Jim for two more days until Susan and Stephanie were well enough to travel. The kids had really taken to Ann, the need for a mother I guess, and there were a few tears shed on both sides. I hugged Jim, kissed Ann, thanked them and promised to contact them as soon as I knew where we would be stopping. The kids waved until the house was out of sight. We turned onto the highway and headed east, never to return. It was Friday. Continued in part 10... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* This archive does not condone child abuse, we also do not censor authors. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years "getting it up the butt" by a fellow convict in their local penitentiary. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 1