Behind enemy lines

Saturday night

-Big sis Charity, can you tell me a story?-.

Millie's shrill voice cuts through the heavy silence in the car, shaking you from the trance you'd been lulled into by the monotony of the passing scenery and the silence of Eric driving next to you. You blink, momentarily disoriented, then glance back at her innocent face. You clear your throat, trying to suppress the anxiety crawling beneath your skin. The urge to stay in line with your beloved boyfriend's happiness claws at you, but you **** a smile for Millie.

-S-Sure, ehm... once upon a time there was a princess named, named Millie, who, who...-.

-Did she feel alone?- Millie's wide eyes bore into you, and you swallow hard, the question stirring something deep inside.

-Y-Yes, she did. She never had a father, and her mother...- You hesitate, the words **** in your throat, afraid to feel them moving inside of you from a moment to the other. But Eric doesn’t flinch; he just keeps his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel.

-...but then one day a, a charming prince arrived...- You continue, your voice barely steady.

-Was there a witch?-.

-Yes... yes, there was an evil witch who, who wanted to harm the princess and take away everything she deserved... but the prince defeated her, and they lived happily ever after.- You rush through the ending, wanting to silence the growing dread in your chest. Millie giggles, filling the cold air with a light that feels almost mocking. Her laughter curls around you like a noose.

-But sis, this is your story! And big brother Eric is the prince, right?-.

-Sure I am.-Eric’s voice is cold, detached, but there's a sharpness beneath the surface: -And I can also tell you how I slaughtered that evil witch and all her minions.-.

Your heart clenches as those words pierce through you. "My friends..." you think for a moment, before brushing away that disturbing thought. There's only space in your mind for your boyfriend's desires, not these, these deviations. Eric pulls the car to a stop, and the looming mansion in front of you twists your gut. You recognize it instantly

"N-No... this is...".

Eric steps out, and you follow on autopilot, every nerve in your body on edge. You open Millie's door, and she bounds out, taking your hand with that same carefree grin plastered on her face. You take courage and smile back at her, then you notice that there is a black van parked in front of the main door, and Maria Gonzalez is standing silently next to it.

Hers and Eric's gazes, equally hollow, meet for a second, then the van's rear doors open, and two burly men drag a struggling figure out: a young girl, her head covered by a bag, trembling and whimpering. You watch in numb horror as they throw her at Maria’s feet.

-I’ll take it from here. Big Man’s orders.- Maria says flatly, seizing the girl like a rag doll; the two goons nod and jump back on the vehicle which drives away. Eric barely acknowledges the exchange and moves in with Maria. You feel Millie’s hand squeeze yours, pulling you forward, and you follow, trapped in the momentum.

As you enter, you immediately know who is the couple in the middle of the corridor, even if you've never met them.

-Welcome.- Mr. Russel’s voice is a dull thud, devoid of warmth.

Eric nods, his own voice just as empty. -It’s a pleasure for us to be here.-.

Maria uncovers the girl’s face, revealing someone younger than you, wide-eyed with terror. Her sobs echo in the grand hallway as she's unceremoniously tossed on the ground. Instinct pulls you toward her, but Millie’s iron grip anchors you in place.

-P-Please, let me go! I want to go to my sister! Please!- The girl pleads, her voice cracking with desperation.

Millie turns, looking at Mrs. Russel with wide, curious eyes. -Aunt Lynette, can I go play with the maids?-.

Lynette’s lips curl into an unnatural smile, a mask over her otherwise cold face, and she bends on her knees to look better at the child.

-Of course you can, sweetie.-.

Millie releases you with a joyful squeal, darting off down the hallway like she’s done it a hundred times before. She passes next to another girl who's arriwing right now, wearing a sophisticated dress and sporting wavy auburn hair. She looks confused and alarmed, and follows Millie's run with utter bewilderment.

-Heather...- You murmur, barely audible. But Eric steps closer to you, and you know better than to act on the instinct to reach out to her. You obediently look away.

Heather doesn’t hesitate when she sees the girl on the floor, rushing forward to help her: -Oh my god! Are you okay?!- she cries, her concern palpable. But her father’s hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist and stopping her in her tracks.

-Stop right there, Heather. I didn’t give you permission to move.-.

-Let me go!- Heather’s face twists in pain as she uselessly struggles against his grip, her voice rising in anger: -What have you done to her, you monster?!-.

Richard’s expression hardens, and before Heather can react, his hand cracks across her face. The sound is sharp, a brutal slap that sends her to her knees with a pitiful squeal.

-No!- You gasp, instinctively stepping forward, but Eric’s presence beside you is suffocating, freezing you in place. Your mind screams at you to help, but your body refuses to move.

Heather clutches her head, her cries turning into screams, raw and agonized. You know that sound too well. You’ve heard it before. They’re inside her too.

"N-No! They're hurting her! But Eric, Eric wishes so...".

-What’s going on?! Why are you doing this?!- The blonde girl on the floor sobs, shaking, eyes darting around the room in terror. But no one else reacts: everyone simply watches, unfeeling.

-Babe.- You turn to your boyfriend, hesitantly touching his shoulder.

-I-Isn't there another solution? M-Maybe I can talk to them...-.

But Eric doesn't answer, he's staring at Heather as if he'd like to burn her on sight. Your head spins. He's ignoring you. Your opinion is valueless, you should stop and do nothing. But the screams... the sobbing... the gnawing, writhing things inside you stirring. It's too much. It’s all too much.

You drop to your knees before Eric, your body moving on autopilot, hands trembling as you unzip his trousers, pulling out his cock. You can’t handle the chaos, the fear, the pain, so you focus on the one thing that keeps you anchored. The one thing that keeps you obedient. You furiously jerk his cock alive, then you wrap your lips around him, swallowing him down as far as you can.

The screams, the sobbing, the horror—they fade as you focus solely on pleasing him, your tongue gliding along the length of his shaft as you bob your head up and down, **** on him when he reaches the back of your throat. You look up, seeing that he's peeking down at you, and you carefully arrange to meet his eyes with yours.

You go down harder. Your vision blurs, but you keep going, **** for his approval, for anything but the madness around you. His cock throbs in your mouth, and you pull back just enough to kiss his tip, your tongue flicking out to tease him.

You completely thrust in, until your lips meet his hipbone. Then, slowly, you move back, and halfway you suck in your cheeks, lightly shaking your head as you do so, striking him with a fatal suction.

With a deep groan, he jerks your head forward, and you feel the hot surge of his release flooding your mouth, spilling over your lips, your chin, your cheeks, your eyes. You pop him out with a gasp, his cum splattering across your face, painting you in it.

You strain your ears again. Heather's frantic screams have died down, but her heavy panting remains, mingling with soft sniffles from the other girl. You glance back just as Mr. Russell lets go of Heather. She catches her breath for a few moments before crawling over to help the trembling blonde to her feet.

-M-My name is Heather, are you ok? Did they hurt you?-.

-Who, sniff, who are you? Why are they doing this to me?- The girl replies, her voice breaking as she clings to Heather's shoulders in desperation. Heather winces from the strength of her grip, then gently reassures her.

-It's okay. What’s your name?-.

-Dawn... Dawn Reynolds.- The blonde manages through trembling lips.

-Reynolds?- Heather repeats, startled: -Like Cassidy?-.

Dawn’s face lights up with a faint, **** hope: -Do you know my sister?-.

-I... I do, from school. Dawn, nothing bad will happen to you. I swear.-.

-No, daughter. You misunderstand.- Her father's cold voice cuts in. Heather spins around, positioning herself as a shield in front of Dawn, blocking her from both her parents and from Eric and Maria.

-She's not in danger. Actually, she's our gift for you. So you won’t feel so alone in your room.-.

Heather's face contorts in something you thought was impossible for her. Fury. She doesn't respond but pulls Dawn closer, helping her retreat from the room as she continues murmuring reassurances. All the while, you've been watching from your knees, your body still quivering from the aftermath of your actions. You slowly rise, grabbing a handkerchief from your pocket to wipe the remnants of Eric’s release from your face.

-No.- Eric’s voice halts you. You freeze and turn back, his seed still dripping from your chin as you meet his gaze.

-I prefer you like this.-.

You swallow hard, nerves tingling with anxiety. Then, obediently, you nod.

-O-Of course, babe. Everything that pleases you.-.

Sunday morning

-...I'm sorry, care to repeat?-.

The hispanic bitch in front of you crosses her arms, her gaze cutting through you like ice.

-You heard me, Christine.If you don’t start proving your worth, I’ll have to reconsider how useful you actually are. A spy who can’t gather the right information is hardly worth the risk.-.

You grit your teeth, barely containing your rising anger: -The risk? Listen here you hoe, I’ve risked my neck just by being here! Don’t you dare disrespect me with your accusations, especially not while I’m stuck in this damn room with those two!- you gesture furiously toward the bed, where her two other bodies are lost in their own world, with the woman's hand stroking the man's length as they kiss.

Darius and Geneviève Gately, she introduced them to you. You don't give a damn who they are, but for sure you have no intention to stick around just to hear this psycho talk down to you. Charity, or Maria as she goes now, barely acknowledges them, her gaze returning to you.

-Darius’s constant urges annoy me just as much as they do you. But your lack of useful information is even more a bother. First, yesterday's mishap, and now you have no clue who Cindy’s next victims are.-.

Cindy, argh, your skin crawls at the idea that she thinks that loser is the real you; but you're not that stupid to provide her the weapon of your real identity.

-First of all, Maria, I almost got busted working with you. And Kim? She’s the one who insisted on using cellphones for communication right in the middle of the meeting. What was I supposed to do, say, 'No, let’s discuss our targets out loud and hope no one hears'? I told you who texted her: Bella Sutherland, Agatha Bern—-

A loud, exaggerated moan escapes Geneviève’s lips as Darius thrusts into her from behind. This is getting ridiculous.

-The cellphones.- Maria’s voice breaks through: -Why didn't she propose telepathy? You can communicate like that, can’t you?-.

-Duh, so do you.- You retort, your tone biting. Maria frowns slightly. Honestly, you don't have an answer, maybe Kim doesn't feel confident with it, maybe she thinks Charity can eavesdrop, or maybe, and this is even worse for you, she already suspects there's a snitch among you. Either way, you wish Charity—Maria, whatever—would figure it out on her own for once.

-Well, if we're done, I'm leaving now. My boyfriend’s better company than the lot of you anyway.- You spin around, intent on leaving, but you’re blocked by two shifting figures of green ooze, both taking on Eric Miller’s shape.

-I'll be frank, Christine.- Maria calls you from behind.

"It's Krissy, you idiot.".

-Up until now, your information has been worthless, and also your motivation for betraying your people... let's say I find it lacking. For all I know, you could be telepathically reporting back to Kim right now. So why shouldn’t I keep you with the busty Scot woman and the others? Or better yet, let Kim in on our little conversations and see what she thinks?-.

Your eyes narrow, a low growl building in your throat. You turn around and, despite your inner feelings, you **** a smile.

-Fine. You want a scoop? I'll give you a scoop.-.

Saturday night

FLOOOOOOOOSH

You get up from the toilet and fix your shorts, then move to the sink. After washing your hands, you adjust your platinum-blonde hair behind your ear.

-'If she wants to speak she speaks, look at me I'm so perfect', what a hussy.- You mutter under your breath, mimicking the haughty tone of the blonde who had brushed you off earlier. You sigh, knowing full well you’ll soon be facing another blonde you’d rather avoid. But as you open the door, you're confronted by yet another unwelcome face.

-Ah, Christine. So it was you hogging the bathroom.-.

-Crawford.- You coldly acknowledge Maylene: -Thought they were letting just about anyone onboard when I saw you before.-.

-My, look at you, you haven't changed the slightest. With you in the room, Kim would still have her shadow even with the lights off.-.

You bristle at her jab, but quickly hide it behind a mocking grin.

-Well, I see you haven't lost your temper. Funny, I’ve heard some rather... interesting rumors about you ever since you left.-.

Maylene flashes her own smirk too: -Oh, you mean the one you spread around? Yeah, I heard them too. Speaking of, uh, I think I saw Lucille possessing Lydia Pruitt this morning; maybe you two can discuss those regrettable slanders regarding her and Mark.-.

-You gonna let me walk out, or are you just into girls peeing?-.

Maylene steps aside with a smirk, but as you move on your old hallway and attempt to leave, her voice pulls you back.

-You know, you really shouldn't go this hard on poor Tina. That poor girl is going through a lot in this period, with Heather, and other things.-.

You turn, eyeing her with suspicion: -Of course I won't, she's been my sister too. But what is it, if I may ask, that you refer to as 'other things'?-.

Maylene covers her mouth, pretending she let something slip: -Well, I did hear that she and Kim are not quite aligned on the morality of possessing people. They say there was a fight this afternoon; and she didn't look so comfortable being right next to Kim, did she? But you know. Rumors.-.

-Yes, rumors. Well, let's hope they don't spread around that much. Oh, poor Tina!- You exclaim dramatically: -I've been really insensitive, haven't I? I should offer my support to Kimmy dear to cheer her up; but perhaps, pourparler, Kim would equally benefit from having someone else make decisions inste... I mean, with, her.-.

-Exactly my thoughts!- Maylene gasps: -I'd hate it if our righteous leader had to realize she's making the wrong choices because she lacks clarity. Hypothetically speaking, of course.-.

-Of course.-.

-Now, if you excuse me.- Maylene closes the door, leaving you alone to walk back downstairs, and to think about the possibilities.

Sunday morning

Maria remains stone-faced, though a slight twitch pulls at her lip. Geneviève Gately, meanwhile, writhes on the bed, greedily swallowing her husband’s release.

-Here, look at that, I'm so loyal to Kim that I've just sold her sister to you. Go check by yourself if you don't trust me; frankly, I don't care right now.- You turn on your heel, pushing past the Eric-clones, spitting out your final words as you make your exit.

Once you're done with destroying Kim, Charity will definitively be the next.