*** Disclaimer ***
The following story may contain themes of hypnosis, mind control, non-consent, paranormal, cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, incest, gang bangs, and other forms of debauchery. This may not be the story for you.
This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Debauchery Falls chapter 05
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BEFORE THE EXPLOSION...
Halley was reading the computer screen and jotting notes. She'd been scrolling through the names of the missing town's people, and cross checking them via social media, looking for any kind of recent activity that might let her know their status.
Currently, a cherub-faced bottle blonde by the name of Elizabeth Pierson, age 19. "Lizzy" to her friends. Apparently the girl was bored of rural life, as indicated by the constant photos that cried out for attention. Selfie after selfie-- most of them displaying her impressive cleavage-- dominated the screen. Barely an original thought in this girl's head. She was a total attention whore who posted an average of three or four times a day. But suddenly she'd gone media dark at about the same time as the rest of the town. Odd.
Halley scribbled some notes, glanced at her watch, and sighed.
"Check in time," she spoke into her radio. "Lincoln?"
The woman's voice was immediate. "Standing by."
"Poe?"
No response.
She frowned and tried again. Dead air. The same result when she tried to call Chaney.
Halley bristled. A town had gone totally missing, and now so too had two of her men. Maybe she was being overly paranoid, but she wasn't willing to take any chances.
"Lincoln, do you want to check that out? It seems a cat got their tongue," Halley said.
"Roger that," Lincoln answered back.
Halley gave her the last location-- mostly just a rough estimate. But if anyone could locate them, it'd be Lincoln.
"I'll meet her over there," Captain Graver chimed in, having overheard.
"Do you need us, Captain?" Brubaker asked.
"Negative, stay with the camp. We won't be long."
"Should we be worried?" Jessup turned to Halley.
She hesitated. "It's probably nothing," she responded.
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Britt Lincoln had been creeping her way through the two-story on Beach Street when she'd gotten the call from the boss lady. Good thing too. Her tracking had thoroughly creeped her out.
After the incident with the siblings fornicating in the mud, Lincoln had sought her own answers-- mostly to prove to herself that she wasn't crazy. That she really *had* witnessed that, and furthermore, the group of hooded spectators that had been watching from the dugouts. Both had up and disappeared like phantoms, after the perverse act had concluded.
But Lincoln found herself genuinely alarmed by the lack of clear tracks or evidence. She located the spot where they'd mated just fine. The mud jumbled up into a mess of handprints, knee prints, feet and limbs. However, where they'd gone after that was impossible to tell. It was like they'd up and vanished.
The dugouts were even more peculiar. No tracks in or out. A dozen men-- ones hardly dressed as ninjas at that, encumbered by bulky clothes-- and not a single trace? It wasn't unheard of. The rain could have easily washed away any sign of their movements, but so quickly?
Oddly though, Lincoln's exploration had uncovered the route that the sinful siblings had arrived at the field from-- right up to the front door of a well maintained two story, that (despite the depressed little valley) hinted at wealth. Every town needed a doctor, she supposed.
Lincoln had found the door frame splintered, and the door opened with just a soft nudge. Not a good sign. Neither was the signs of disturbance. Overturned chairs, broken glass. She eyed the family photos on the wall and noted that the two she'd seen in the field going at it like bunnies indeed were siblings, not just a pair of weirdoes roleplaying a kink. Seeing them in photos as clean cut, wholesome, well bred and well mannered twins that they were made the memory of them plowing each other in that muddy field all the more surreal.
She'd been just about to do a sweep of the upstairs rooms when Halley had called in about Poe and Chaney being MIA.
That worried her. Those two didn't dick around. If they weren't answering, that meant something. Maybe bad, maybe something as simple as dead batteries in their radios. Regardless, all possibilities could be dangerous.
She left the house and made her way south, cutting in between homes, and moving from tree to tree like a ghost.
When she reached the southern-most edge of town, she scowled. Beyond the last street was nothing but overgrown forest-- a wall of nearly impenetrable trees that grew like the jagged spires of a storybook forest. It was unwelcoming. Somewhere, past it all, she could hear the ceaseless rush of the Jernigan Creek.
She scanned with her eyes and spotted a break in the trees. A mud path really. It was large enough to drive a truck through, though if it constituted a road, was hard to say. She knelt and inspected the tire tracks in the mud. Flanking it were boot tracks. The heavy steps of Chaney, and the light agile ones of Poe. Both men were skilled enough trackers, god bless them, but they were clumsy as hell, even when they weren't trying to be.
Lincoln followed the trail into the tunnel of trees and the world of darkness. But as it led deeper, she started to get a bad feeling. With each passing step, she felt less like a soldier and more like a little girl, lost in a fairy tale forest full of wolves and witches.
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