The Blac Rose Legacy

The Black Rose Legacy Ch. 04

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All characters engaged in sex (both Sasquatch and human) are over 18. Thanks as always to my writing coach RiverMaya, my editing guru AzureAsh, and my mystery beta reader.

This chapter takes place 20 years after the end of Chapter 03.

Technology note: Back in the 1960's, only the very wealthy had cellular phones; everyone else just had landlines, and long-distance calling was quite expensive.

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July 1961 - Issaquah, Washington

My name is Daisy Rose Haggerty. The Daisy came from one of my grandmothers, the Rose from my great-grandmother. They were 7 and 8 feet tall, respectively. My grandmother Daffodil Haggerty was nearly 7 feet tall, and my grandfather Julius Haggerty was a true giant, well over 10 feet. My father Augustus was 8'6", going by the performance name of 'Missing Link Giant' when he worked in a carnival sideshow. You'd think as the descendent of all this tall people I'd also be in the 7-foot range height-wise. My dad messed all that up, however, by falling in love with my mother.

Polly Hays was a dark-haired beauty who worked at the same carnival as my dad, playing piano every night. It wasn't her piano playing that people came to see, though, it was the fact she was a 3'9" proportional dwarf whose performance name was 'Polly The Pint-Sized Pianist'. Long story short, when my dad joined the carnival, he immediately developed an unrequited crush on my mother that lasted for several years. That all changed, though, the night he literally saved her from an abusive partner and invited her to stay in his wagon for safety. She never moved out, and a while later they got married in a huge society wedding that made the newspapers in Seattle, Chicago, and even New York, then they had me. A year or so later, my younger brother Gaius came along. (My great-grandfather started a family tradition of all Haggerty males being named after Roman emperors.)

By all rights, I should have been Sasquatch-sized. I certainly looked the part, with black hair all over my body like my dad when I was born, but I was tiny like my mother. My brother Gaius was just the opposite. He was over 9 pounds when he was born, (my poor little mother), a big pink baby with a little hair on his head, but that was it.

My brother quickly grew taller than me, but although he inherited a few internal Sasquatch characteristics, physically he looked just like every other fully-human boy in our neighborhood. As for me, physically, I was much more like my father and grandparents except for the height. Inside, though, it's hard to describe why, but I always felt like a Sasquatch. It was probably because of my Grandpa Julius.

From the minute I met him, I was always Grandpa's girl. I loved my mom, my dad, my brother, and my grandmother, but it was Grandpa Julius that I adored. I met him when I was 2, and he was 47. My mother told me I was barely 2' tall and weighed about 18 pounds, while Grandpa Julius was 10'6" and weighed well over 700 pounds. He was blind by then, but his hearing and sense of smell were uncanny. When my brother and I would play hide-and-go-seek with him outside, whether we hid under some bushes or climbed a tree, he'd always find us.

Grandpa Julius was technically half-human, but you couldn't tell. He looked to be 100% Sasquatch. His black fur with streaks of gray in it pretty much covered his face and body; it was coarse but not uncomfortable to touch. Grandma Daffodil was also half-human, but her black fur was more like hair, located mostly on her arms and legs, the small of her back, her bottom cheeks, and a patch on her midriff just above the navel.

After our grandparents moved into Issaquah with us, my parents persuaded them to wear clothes during the day. Grandpa Julius resisted at first, but finally conceded and wore short pants so his man-thing wasn't waving where everyone could see it. Grandma Daffodil found that she liked wearing pretty dresses, which kept her more-than-ample breasts covered. Grandpa Julius wasn't happy because, being blind, he really liked feeling Grandma's breasts, but as a Sasquatch female, she always had the final word.

I loved growing up with our grandparents. While my little brother would go outside and play, I would be with Grandpa Julius, climbing on him, tickling him, or just sitting on his lap and talking non-stop to him, often until I wore myself out and fell asleep in his big arms. When my playmates from school would come over, they'd climb on him too, totally unafraid of the gentle furry giant that lived at my house.

Sometimes Grandma Daffodil would come in and sit next to Grandpa and me on their custom-made couch. (Since Grandma herself weighed 500 pounds or so, when they moved in with us Daddy had special oversized furniture made that could support them.) When Grandma sat with us, she'd tell me stories about growing up as a young girl in the wilderness, and how she and her sisters Marigold and Tulip all had crushes on Grandpa Julius, but it was her he'd fallen in love with.

Like my parents, my grandparents were very affectionate with one another. They would frequently kiss and stroke each other's faces, and sometimes...more. One night, I was awakened by a noise from down the hall, so I crawled out of my little bed, sneaking down the hall and into their room to see what it was.

What they were doing in their bed was a real eye-opener; my young mind was having a hard time figuring it out. The next morning at breakfast I asked a lot of questions that made my mother's face turn red. Scowling, she finally looked at my father and snapped, "Gus, they're YOUR parents, YOU explain it to our daughter."

Daddy took me outside and explained to me about Sasquatch coupling, and how they didn't have the same rules about privacy that humans did. When he lived in the one-room plank house with Grandpa and Grandma they'd pretty much couple every night and he thought nothing of it, it was just how parents who loved each other made babies. I asked if he and mommy did what my grandparents were doing, and he replied that they did, but mommy was raised with human privacy rules, and we didn't live in a one-room plank house now. We had plenty of bedrooms, so there was no need for me or my brother to be an audience to their coupling.

Of course, since it was forbidden, it made me even more curious, and I tried several times to sneak in on my parents to watch them. Unlike my grandparents, mom and dad's bedroom door was kept locked when they coupled; all I could do was sit outside their door in the hall and listen. Whatever they were doing sounded fun, though, because my mom giggled a lot, and I heard my daddy always thanking her and telling her he loved her afterwards.

While I was happy to hear how much my parents loved each other, as I got older I realized that while my father was a big Sasquatch, my tiny mother certainly wasn't. Having seen the size of Grandpa Julius's man-thing, with my daddy being a Sasquatch as well, I figured his man-thing would be of similar proportions. Given Mom's size, I couldn't envision how it would even fit into her!

When I asked my daddy about it, he turned red like Mommy had earlier and replied simply, "Your mother is magic," and left it at that. It was only when I had graduated high school and was about to move away that my mother and I had a woman-to-woman talk, where she divulged her secrets to a happy marriage. It was pretty eye-opening, to say the least. (Dad hadn't lied, Mom WAS magic!)

The summer I became a teenager and had my first monthly, several significant things happened. First, I grew ample breasts to go along with my new womanhood. At the same time, the hair on my torso, arms and legs fell completely off. Not slowly, but quickly, in black clumps. It was completely gone within a week, so I didn't have to wear long sleeves and coveralls to school any more, for the first time I could wear a skirt!

Along with all that, I had experienced a growth spurt, reaching 4'6", 9 inches taller than my mother! She had to buy me new clothes because her hand-me-downs no longer fit me. With all the changes, when I showed up at school the following fall the boys who used to tease me about being a hairy troll really changed their tune. With my mother's pretty face and my father's blue eyes, suddenly every boy in class was asking to carry my books for me. Enjoying the sudden attention, I didn't pair up with any boy in particular, but let them take turns doing book duty.

As if my sudden popularity wasn't enough to make the other high school girls hate me, the fact I got straight 'A's in every subject really stoked their resentment. At graduation I ended up being my class valedictorian, but aside from having my books carried, for me high school was a lonely existence.

The biggest surprise of my teenage years was when I confided in my grandfather about the changes I was going through. After I shared my news, Grandpa Julius sniffed at my head, and that's when I heard him speak to me for the first time! Daddy told me Grandpa Julius had learned to speak English as a boy, but after his mother Black Rose died, he stopped. He'd certainly never said a word to me in all the time I knew him, but here he was.

As his fingers caressed my face, his voice was deep and raspy. "You smell and feel like a human now, little one, but unlike your human brother, you're still Sasquatch inside; a brave and powerful being."

I managed to stammer, "Grandpa! You talk! Why haven't you talked to me before?" He smiled broadly, like he'd just pulled off a wonderful prank.

"My father Andrew taught me English, but while my mother Black Rose learned to understand him, she never spoke it herself. After her death, I stopped speaking to honor her. Besides, English wasn't necessary for a Sasquatch living in the wilderness. And your grandmother, well, she talks enough for the both of us. Now that you are no longer a child, I decided that I would break my tradition. I won't speak to anyone else, only you. You're special because you were named after my sister Daisy and my mother Rose. This must remain our secret. Do you promise not to tell?"

A secret! I was thrilled. I had been a tiny girl with zero friends and even fewer secrets, but now at last I was a young woman with a big secret! "Of course, Grandpa! I'll never tell!"

He chuckled. "Good. There are some things you need to know. First, despite your size, you will always be stronger than the average human. You may also notice that your hearing and sense of smell are far better than any human's." I definitely knew I was strong. Whenever Gaius and I wrestled, despite him being much taller, I was always able to beat him. My sense of hearing and smell had always been very keen, but I never thought about how much better than the other kids at school. My grandfather lowered his voice, and I sensed what he had to say was really serious now.

"Most importantly, granddaughter, as a Sasquatch you need to know about the fury that sleeps deep inside you. It comes out when you or a loved one are threatened. Mine came out when three men attacked your cousin Tulip in the wilderness. I killed one of them, and would have gladly killed the other two if your Great-grandpa Adam hadn't stopped me. Your father's fury came out the night he saw a drunkard attack your mother; he would have killed the man if others hadn't intervened. Your cousin Marigold's fury crippled a man for life after he made the mistake of pulling a knife on her father."

This all sounded like folklore, like it wasn't real. I was incredulous at the idea that this much power could be inside of tiny little me! Grandpa went on, "In the wilderness, our fury was necessary for survival. Since you now live in the human world and abide by their rules, if you do not control it you could end up in trouble. Always be aware of your power." He reached down and lovingly caressed my face. "Never forget, little Sasquatch, you may be small, but you are also mighty."

A few weeks after I graduated from high school, an advertisement appeared in the Issaquah Reporter, recruiting workers to come to Canoga Park, California to build rocket engines for the Mercury-Redstone program at the Rocketdyne factory. Since I did especially well in my science classes, I felt confident this might be something I could do. On top of that, to an eighteen-year-old girl with a huge crush on the radio star Dean Torrence from Jan And Dean, living in the Los Angeles area where they both lived would be a great adventure; I might even get to meet him!

With my parents' blessing, a promise to call home once a week and a tearful goodbye, I bought a ticket on the Great Northern Pacific Railway from Seattle to Portland, then in Portland switched over to the Southern Pacific Streamliner to Los Angeles. The second leg of the journey was over 30 hours long, so I booked a sleeping berth. Once I reached Los Angeles, I took a cab to the Rocketdyne building and, still carrying my suitcase, walked in to the company's Personnel office. This is where I met Ed Winters, the Personnel Manager.

I explained that I had come all the way from Seattle in response to his ad. He appeared confused, and said, "No offense, Miss Haggerty, but you're a woman and rather small. We have plenty of secretaries. What exactly do you think you could do for us?"

I'd read as much as I could about rockets and rocket engines, so I was prepared. "Well, I can read wiring diagrams and blueprints, and I can fit into tight spaces where a full-grown man can't."

He sat back, smiling at what he assumed was my naivete. "Is that a fact? Well, let's take you out onto the factory floor and put you to the test, shall we?" Delighted, I left my suitcase in his office and followed him out into the huge building. It was basically a big metal cave the length of two football fields, with engineering offices running along the perimeter on another level about 60 feet up, overlooking the whole assembly floor.

In the middle of the floor the body of a Redstone rocket was on its side, with rocket motor exhaust nozzles sticking out of the end. I'd never seen anything so big; it was really impressive! Ed called out, "Hey, Rob! I have an applicant for you!"

A thin and very serious-looking man walked over with a clipboard, muttering something under his breath. He walked up to Ed Winters, complaining, "That new idiot we hired just dropped a wrench inside the rocket. We can see it but can't reach it. The last damned thing we need is for a loose wrench flying around inside during liftoff to puncture the liquid oxygen tank."

Ed smiled. "Perfect! Rob, this is Miss Daisy Rose Haggerty. She wants a job with us, claims she can fit into small spaces. Let's put her to the test!"

Rob's left eyebrow went up skeptically, but he extended his hand, and I shook it. "Rob Sherman. Nice to meet you, Miss Haggerty." He pointed into the body of the big rocket. "See that yellow tank there about halfway down? The missing wrench is sitting underneath it just to the left." He looked at me, all business now. "If you can get that wrench out, it will save me from having to open up a body and undoing and redoing the seal. You'll save this project several thousand dollars, and a ton of time."

This was my big chance! "My coveralls are in my suitcase. Let me get changed, and I'll get your wrench back for you, sir!"

It took me fifteen minutes; five to change clothes, five to carefully shimmy my way in amongst the fuel and coolant lines to grab the wrench, and five to make my way back out. I walked out of Ed Winters' office with a handful of security clearance paperwork to fill out, a Rocketdyne employee badge, and a voucher for a room at a nearby hotel to stay at until I could find an apartment to rent.

For the next 6 months, I worked my ass off to prove myself. Slowly, I began to earn the respect of my male co-workers on the shop floor. The other women in the building weren't sure what to make of me. I was young and pretty (at least I thought so), but I never missed a day at work, and while on the factory floor I dressed in an unflattering jumpsuit and worked as hard as any of the men.

January 1962 -- Canoga Park, California

Jason Leiden was a painter, and not a very good one. One Monday he complained that his job that week was painting the interior of the factory's eight positive-pressure ventilation rooms. It was one of those jobs that required no real brainpower, but was extremely important. The building had sprinkler systems throughout, but in addition to fire itself, toxic smoke could kill you just as easily.

On the top floor of the building there were eight positive-pressure ventilation fans, each with six 4' long blades, and each within a sealed room with the pressure maintained at a higher pressure than the rest of the building. The idea here was smoke can flow only from a higher pressure to a lower pressure, so if there were a fire, the room vents would open, and, detecting the drop in pressure, the fans would turn on.

Once they started up, the fans would quickly create positive pressure in the building, adequate to force any smoke to the lower air pressure of the outside. Fire and poisonous gas spreading as quickly as they do, when these big fans turned on, they operated at maximum speed, capable of moving 200,000 cubic feet of air per minute.

Maintaining the positive pressure rooms was one of those tasks that, while mind-numbing, was incredibly important because people's lives depended upon them working properly. Jason didn't see it that way, though. All he knew was going in and out of those rooms was a nuisance, as each sealed door had multiple latches to maintain the higher pressure within. If he needed to go to the toilet or stop and have his lunch during the day, he'd have to use both hands to open the door.

Jason being Jason, one Friday he decided to go have lunch and leave the door of the room he was painting propped open so he could easily get back in after he was done eating. Sensing the drop in pressure, the fan kicked on a minute after he'd left. Without the seven other fans to help out, Jason's fan went into emergency high gear to raise the pressure. Being Friday, Jason was out in the parking lot having a beer with his lunch, and took his sweet time to get back to work.

Before he could get back in the building, the overworked fan disintegrated; fractured metal parts were thrown all over. The motor itself knocked the door open and fell down towards the manufacturing floor, solidly hitting an upright stack of a dozen 4" pipes, each 12' long. The thin metal straps that had been holding the stack together parted, and the thick pipes spread like the petals opening on a huge metal flower. Fortunately, since it was the lunch hour, the assembly floor was empty, so most people weren't in the way. But one guy, Jack Rhodes, wasn't so fortunate.

Jack was an engineer who worked on the LEV-3 autopilot guidance system of the Mercury-Redstone, one of the people the factory guys would refer to as a 'propeller-head'. I'd seen him pass through fairly regularly to meet with the engineering team upstairs. He was not a big man, just 5'6", but had a handsome face with blonde hair and blue eyes that had just about every woman in the building swooning as he walked by, me being one of them. (Jack was a dead ringer for my heartthrob Dean Torrence, so I couldn't help myself.) Like most engineers, though, he was always so deep in thought and focused on his work that he never noticed any of us.

Apparently, he was still deep in thought as he walked across the factory floor that day, oblivious to the sounds of the fan self-destructing 60 feet above his head. It was only when he became buried under several of the 4" pipes that his focus was drawn to something other than a wiring diagram.