Author's Note
This story has a lot of characters. I included a handy reference at the end, just in case I confuse you. Sorry in advance.
Prologue: The Flight
Steve sighed as he finally sat down in his seat. He was on his way back home. Tired from a long trip, he allowed his eyes to close. Getting to the plane had been the hard part. Now that he was finally inside, he could relax. It was a night flight and he was sure he could get some sleep. The thick hull offered him a comforting sense of insulation from the heavy rain outside.
Even though Steve enjoyed getting away every now and then he really did miss the wife and kids. They had had their firstborn as a bit of a surprise and had been forced to marry young. The union was still strong, however, despite the drudgery of everyday life robbing it of much of its passion.
On trips like these it would be easy for Steve to find a woman for hire, but he had never strayed. Strippers, yeah, but no prostitutes. He knew some of his colleagues did it. Steve was a bit of perv, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was his active imagination that helped him get more out of his fantasies, and thus made it easier for him to stay faithful in real life.
Come to think of it, it was strange that none of his colleagues were on this flight. The plane seemed unusually empty.
Despite his oh so chivalrous nature, Steve had noticed one of the flight attendants.
Look but don't touch, right?
Stewardesses always looked good but this one was exceptionally cute. She wasn't outrageously tall or thin but she had a radiant smile. The brunette's green eyes had almost hypnotized Steve as she greeted him on his way in.
A sudden onset of shrill laughter and loud conversation stirred Steve from the edge of sleep. The cabin was filling up with a full range of ridiculously sexy women. Their long, lush manes and their silky skin tones ranged from darkest chocolate to a most evanescent vanilla, spanning all the joyous colors of humanity in between.
They did not come in all shapes and sizes, though. No. All of them were, in fact, fairly similar in build: slim, trim, and blessed with ample bosoms. There was lots of tight jiggle, you know, when you can just tell a woman has exceptionally firm tits even through clothes.
Steve found himself very much awake as he watched this United Nations of goddesses stretch and bend, stowing away their hand luggage. The girls were a vivacious bunch, filling the whole plane with an energy Steve was not prepared for.
They were all pretty much in their twenties. Most of them wore somewhat practical clothing, dressed for comfort, but all of it was still sexy and tight. There were lots of tank tops and not many bras.
Some wore short skirts. One of them even wore just a bikini as a top. Steve could not look away. He felt a rush of blood in his groin.
A blue eyed older blonde in a sleek gray business suit came to Steve. She smiled at him and didn't seem to judge him for staring. She was just as hot as the rest of them. The tiny little wrinkles around her eyes were barely noticeable, and, if anything, only added to her charm. It was hard to tell how much older she was even supposed to be.
"Hello. I am Gretchen. I'm sorry for the girls but they can be a bit wild,
ja
? We are the bikini model contest and we are on the press tour, for the publicity. The girls come from the whole world," she said.
"No problem at all. Are you in the competition, too?" Steve said.
She chuckled. "No sir. I'm too old for this now. But I did win, back in the day. I am now the tour manager."
She extended her hand.
"Steve. Nice to meet you, Gretchen. And your girls." Steve gave himself major points internally for being able to catch her name, with all the distractions going on.
Another blonde popped up from under Gretchen's arm. The most photogenic set of abs Steve had ever seen presented themselves to him as the girl stretched toward the overhead compartment. Another thing Steve could not miss were her breasts.
Her top was tight and her nipples poked through. The boobs themselves were just floating there, despite her obvious lack of a bra. They were incredibly firm for their tantalizing size.
That much was true for pretty much all the other girls, too, but this one had her magical rack so close to Steve now it completely dominated his attention. He could smell her perfume, and the angle was so steep he could almost see up her top from below.
"Hi Steve. I'm Katie, Miss USA. Looks like we're sitting next to each other," she said.
Steve looked around. The plane was still half empty, but he certainly didn't mind.
Look, but don't touch, right?
He started to get up, to let Katie past.
"No no, don't bother. I used to be an athlete. I can handle it," she said, with a grin on her magazine cover face.
Despite her high heels, Katie lifted a long, slim leg over Steve, with the grace of a dancer. Her tight little ass was wrapped in jeggings, strikingly plump and succulent for such a compact thing. Steve had to fight hard not to reach for it as it passed right over his lap.
It was all a bit much, but he survived. Even his smile remained somewhat natural, he hoped.
Things eventually settled down. Some of the girls were acting all giggly and girly but others acted more mature. Katie was the latter. Her full, golden blond hair reached all the way to her lower back and it had a soft, natural waviness to it.
She turned out to be a genuinely nice and down to earth person, and after some small talk, Steve was able to relax again.
Even the one girl wearing just the bikini top eventually put on a loose, thin tank top over it. The plane lifted off into the stormy night, and when the lights went down, Steve fell asleep quite easily.
His dream was a strange black void. Somehow, it was even darker and emptier than normal nothingness. There was a presence there, though. He could not see anyone, but the entity felt feminine. There was a faint scent of flowers and Steve almost felt like he could hear some whispers. A lady was calling to him.
Just as the voice was getting clearer, Steve woke up to a deafening roar. It was the wind, and the wail of the engines. There was smoke everywhere. The plane pitched and rolled in jet black darkness. Steve flapped around like a ragdoll, hanging on by his seat belt. People screamed in terror, but drowned out by the cacophony. Rain hit his skin, or something wet did. Hot, orange flames flashed amid the acrid fumes.
