Fallout

Between us, the silence oppresses.

In my head, a thunderous, rushing noise drowns out everything but a single thought, 'I have no plan for this.'

The silent seconds stretch as my family looks at me, incredulously, waiting for an answer. An answer that my brain fumbles to form.

Into this silence steps a blessed distraction: the Meagers.

“Well, we’re ready to go when you are,” Clarke calls as he and his mother exit their grove. “We know this great cabin diner, The Hidden Nook, on the way back into town. Serves great flapjacks anytime of day with this amazing peach syrup. Peaches actually come from Ben Gurion’s orchard.”

I feel Jennie seething at my lack of response, but she has to maintain appearances for our neighbors. The children are quiet and confused as I’m trying desperately to conjure a way out of this mess. I got nothing as we climb into our cars, and then chaos erupts.

“What have you done?” starts my wife, and my children join in. “What does this…? Why...? How…?” They fire a continuous barrage of questions that interrupts any attempts to answer. The questions become accusations that fill the journey. I barely stammer out five words during our 15 minute journey. As we pull into the diner, I’ve had enough.

“QUIET!” I roar as I slam the car into park. Stunned silence falls, and I turn to address my passengers. “I have my reasons. I had a plan. When we get home tonight, I will explain my reasoning and we can discuss our plan together. Right now we have dinner. We will be polite and behave, and deal with this when we get home. Understand?”

The children meekly nod, still respectful of their father even while questioning the move. Jennie doesn’t nod, but she turns and exits the car, acquiescing to the reality of the situation. She heads for the diner, which is literally a converted cabin. The entrance is a screen door, and the waiting area is a tourist trap/gift shop filled with whittled animals, cheap toys for kids, random glassware, and other knick-knacks. The dining tables and chairs are mismatched, as if purchased from many different garage sales, and placed in hallways and filling the rooms. The saving grace is the smell, which I can only describe as hickory bacon mixed with apple pie.

We join Clarke and Skylar in what looks to have been the den, at a conference table surrounded by a variety of chairs. I find myself seated in a wicker chair, facing a wall with a stuffed badger, several license plates, and a china cabinet filled with books. Between the decor and the menu, I’m grateful to see that my family is distracted from the recent revelation.

It doesn’t take long for Clarke and Skylar to notice something is off. Between my distracted responses while I try to solve my dilemma, Jennie’s one-word replies as she simmers unhappily, Evie’s accusatory glares at the fornicators, Sylvie’s giggles every time she glances at the Meagers, and James and Miles unable to look at Skylar without staring at her breasts, Clarke realizes that something happened at the lookout.

“I take it someone peeked on us up at the overlook,” Clarke comments. “Sorry, we would have invited you, but that is a special spot for my mom and I.”

Skylar takes note of Jennie’s gasp and my averted eyes. She gently touches her son’s arm. “Dear, I don’t think he told them.”

“Told them what?”

Skylar circles her finger in the air to indicate the surrounding area. “OZ,” she half-whispers.

You can see the realization hit. “You dirty dog! You didn’t tell any of them? Even James?” Clarke laughingly asks.

“Are we really in an Oedipal Zone?” James incredulously inquires.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Clarke laughs again. “James, your dad just gave you the greatest gift, EVER. Oh, man, I’ve heard of sons tricking their family to move here, but you have to be the first dad to trick his family here. I got to know why. Why, man?”

My answer gets caught in my throat, and I have to clear it. “Urrgghhmm… I… I’m trying to protect my wife and daughters from Free Use.” Clarke cocks his head to the side, confused. Jennie and the rest are staring at me as if I grew another head.

“I think I get it,” Skylar empathizes. “Clarke, I think he is like Ethan and his mother, but as the father.”

Clarke considers this. “But… Ethan was helping his mom to escape a sexually abusive husband. She was sick of the constant gang-bangs that her husband arranged with friends, neighbors, coworkers, and strangers.”

“How is it better here?” Evie asks, shaded with sarcasm.

“Well, here a Beta can’t act without their Alpha’s permission.” Clarke explained. “For Mrs. Bailey… you remember, your realtor from earlier? Ethan is her son. For Mrs. Bailey, if she says ‘no’ then it’s as if Ethan says ‘no’. Ethan’s given her control of her sex life. I suppose, in a way, my mother could say the same,” turning to his mother, “but you’ve always done what I want.”

“Yes. Ethan loves his mother, like you love me,” Skylar touches his face. “I know you wouldn’t ever **** me to do something I hate, so I’m willing to try out new things when you tell me because I love you. And together we have fun.” She draws Clarke’s face in and they kiss, passionately.

Our uncomfortable awkwardness is relieved by the arrival of the waitress, a pretty little redhead. Her eyes scan our party, alight on James, and she circles the table in his direction. My family’s eyes are drawn to her incongruous mis-buttoned shirt. Her obvious lack of brassiere is apparent in flashes of pale skin. She pulls out her order pad and pencil as she stops next to James.

“Umm… miss,” James tries to discreetly indicate her wardrobe malfunction.

“Oh, certainly sir,” she bubbly replies. She drops her pad and begins unbuttoning her shirt from the top. “Oh, silly me. Looks like I missed one,” as her nimble fingers deftly push buttons through holes. She pulls her shirt open, baring her breasts to the table, and turns slightly toward James presenting her assets.

My family’s collective gasp pulls Clarke from his mother’s oral embrace. By the time he looks around, the redhead has lifted up her waist apron and skirt to display her recently plowed and frosted carrot garden to her customers. Miles lets out a “Woohoo!” to which she blushes and Jennie glares. The exposed waitress notices the rest of our expressions and becomes visibly confused.

“Forgive the mess,” she apologizes. “The last Alpha told me to leave it until told otherwise.”

“Miss, umm...,” Clarke looks pointedly at her naked, left tit over which hangs her nametag. “Lizzie. You see, they just moved here, today. I’m the only Alpha here.” Clarke waves his wrist, showing off a watch with a faintly red glowing band. “So, Scarlet get your clothes back on, and let’s get on with dinner.”

Lizzie blushes, a rosy pink that compliments her hair, drops her skirt and apron, and correctly buttons up her shirt. She retrieves her pad and pencil, takes orders, and moves on.

“Well, that happened,” Skylar softly laughs. “If you are going to live here, might I suggest preparing yourselves to see shocking sights and, at the very least, not reacting. Might help with the transition.”

“We’ve had a lot of shocks over the past hour,” Jennie replies. “Free Use was hard enough, and now we need to adjust to…,” she swallows before croaking out, “...an OZ. I’m not sure which is more difficult. Maybe, in trying to understand why my husband moved us here…could you explain Alphas, Betas, and their relationship?”

“Simple enough,” says Clarke. “On their 18th birthday, a first-born son becomes the Alpha of the family. All others in the family are designated Betas and are property of the Alpha. Betas must defer to and obey the Alpha as far as the Alpha wishes.

“For your family, since James is over 18 and the first-born son, he will be designated Alpha and the rest of you as Betas. He will remain Alpha until his first-born son is 18, or if he decides to designate another son, probably Miles, as Alpha and then resigns or dies.”

“Resigns or dies?” Jennie looks worried.

“There are many reasons an Alpha may wish to resign, and people still die. If he does, then a way is provided for the family to be passed to a new Alpha to preserve their Beta status. The last thing you want is to become an orphan.”

“Dear, you better explain orphana,” prompts Skylar.

Lizzie enters bearing our food and freezes when Skylar says ‘orphan.’ She looks around nervously, then proceeds to deliver the dishes.

“Good timing, Scarlet,” Clarke encourages. “Lizzie here is an orphan, meaning she has no Alpha in her family, so she and the rest of her family are not Betas. Why are you an orphan, Scarlet?”

“My parents only had girls, sir,” as she hands out the last dish, Sylvie’s pancakes. “Anything else, sir?”

“We good? We’re good, Scarlet,” Clarke continues as she leaves. “So, no son, no Alpha, her family became orphans, and orphans must obey any Alpha. As you might understand it, orphans are free use for any Alpha that comes along. They also miss out on some legal advantages of being an Alpha or Beta.”

“How did you know she was an orphan?” interjects Sylvie.

“She has no tag, sweetie,” Skylar responds, gesturing at her neck. A faintly blue glowing choker, filigreed with rose gold designs, adorns her throat. Clarke raises his wrist to give us a better look at his red glowing watchband, Tron-like in pattern. “Alphas wear red, Betas blue, and orphans have no tag. Check the wrists and neck, and you’ll know.”

Lizzie sweeps in, topless and skirtless, wearing just her waist apron. “Forgive me, sir. Another Alpha decided to take my shirt until dessert, and the next chose to even it out by taking my skirt. I’m afraid I might be occupied later, so I brought the check. Is there anything else?” she asks as she refills drinks. My family tries to temper their reaction, except for Miles until he receives a pinch for ogling.

We finish our meal. What remaining conversation occurs further drives home our predicament and lack of any better options. By the end, Jennie is contemplative and silent, and I hope that the fight has ended with only that first disastrous strike.

We head outside to say farewell to the Meagers. Skylar is a hugger. She hugs Sylvie, who happily returns the hug with a giggle. She tries to hug Evie, but Evie fends her off with a glare that Skylar reads and wisely backs off. Miles happily accepts a hug as Skylar pulls his head between her cleavage. I think he has a new crush.

While Skylar hugs James, Jennie and I thank Clarke for the tour and the evening. When I turn to bid farewell to Skylar, James looks uncomfortable and a little guilty. Skylar sweeps in to embrace me and leans in to kiss my cheek. Her lips slide past to whisper in my ear, “Welcome to Cybele Grove,” and I feel a hand grasp and squeeze my cock and balls. My turn to feel uncomfortable and a little guilty.

It is a quiet drive home. We gather in the bare living room. Jennie sits on the unfurnished window seat and, at first, James sits at the other end. He looks at his mom, comes to an uncomfortable realization, and mumbles something as he crosses the room to sit on the carpet with the other children. I stand, looking at their expectant faces.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth about Cybele Grove. And I’m sorry for the way you found out. My fears of your reactions got to me, but I should have trusted you more as we all care for this family and each other. With your help we can protect each other. Together, we can survive this insane world with as much of our dignity and beliefs intact as we can. It will take trust, and I hope that you still trust me enough to believe that I did this for our family.” I pause, breathlessly waiting to see how they will respond.

Jennie breaks the silence, “Why..? What was the plan?”

“I think you mostly understand ‘why.’ Here we have a choice… well, James has a choice, but he can exercise that choice to help us like Ethan does with Mrs. Bailey. Outside of the OZ, we soon wouldn’t have any choice. Like the husbands of our church, who had no recourse to what the pastor did. It is a tough pill to swallow, but I believe you all see it.

“As to my plan, it was to get our family here. After that, I hoped that our family might be able to discuss the plan. Together… like we will hopefully do... now.”

“That’s it?” asks Miles incredulously. He is still a teenager coming to understand that his parents aren’t infallible.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t plan further as I had no idea what this place is like. Just this afternoon was… so different. The best I could do is come up with some general rules and limitations, and if the entire family cannot agree to staying then we move somewhere else.”

“So, the entire family needs to agree to us staying at the end of this week, or we move away?” Jennie asks, to which I nod. “And what are the other limitations and rules?”

“First, Jennie and I reserve the right to move the family away if we feel that James is abusing the family trust, or if living in an OZ is not benefiting the family.

“Second, James’ job is to protect the family. He will keep us from having to do anything we don’t want to. For our part, in public we need to embrace this lifestyle. We may have to push our personal comfort level, but James should keep us from anything terrible.

“Third, we respect each other and communicate. Your mother and I are still your parents, and in private, at home, you will respect that. You are still brothers and sisters, treat each other as such. For this to work, we will need to clearly communicate with each other. We need to clearly communicate our limits with James, and James will do his best to respect those limits.

“These are the ground rules. There may be others, or we may have to adjust these. We can take this week to consider our situation, and add to or adjust the rules. Any questions or thoughts?”

A dour Evie raises her hand, “I object already. Let’s move.”

“Umm… ok.” I’m caught off guard. “But… then what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Evie shrugs. “Anything but this?”

“Let’s take the week,” I suggest. “I’m also adding that if you object, then you need to have a realistic alternative to suggest. Roy will be here at the end of the week,” Evie’s dour expression disappears behind a smile, “and he can advise us on our options.”

“You do realize that James and I are expected to… do some things?” Jennie asks warily.

“Yes, and if either of you are unwilling, then we move away.”

“And you are alright with... that?”

“I have… had to become alright with it. Not happy about it. But, I think I can live with it if...