The Squeeze

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

This is the second chapter of The Squeeze series. If you have not read the first chapter, please go back and read it before continuing. Please leave comments as that is how I can improve my stories. This is a work of fiction, and all characters are over the age of 18.

I awoke to the sensation of flight, total blackness, and pain. I shivered in the windy, cold air, still naked and uncovered. As the fog cleared from my brain, I began to remember what had happened. I had been Tased by a V Trooper when they discovered our hiding place. The blackness was from a thick canvas bag that had been placed over my head and zip-tied in place around my neck. The flight sensation was accompanied by the loud sound of helicopter blades slicing through the air.

In our ardor, Gwen and I had forgotten to close the hatch on the roof of our hiding place. We had fallen asleep in each other's arms with it open giving the V Squadron a clear indication that one or more flat-facers could be hiding. We awoke to the sound of a chopper hovering of our uncle's house. V Troopers stormed in and took us both. The look of horror on Gwen's beautiful face ran through my mind's eye as did her scream when they converged on her.

Partially in fear and partially in sorrow, I gasped loudly and jerked my body. I felt the zip-ties fastening me to a backboard at my wrists and ankles. I gave each an experimental tug, but they were pulled tight leaving no room for me to slip free.

Over the rotors I heard the raucous laughter of jaded men as I struggled against my bindings.

"Looks like this one is awake," I heard a gruff voice laugh as sharp pain exploded in my side where he kicked me with a booted foot.

I groaned loudly to more laughter and thrashed. Another flash of pain and more laughter.

"Better calm down, boy," the voice barked. "Or I'll hit you with the Taser again."

"Where's Gwen?" I bellowed through the dark canvas bag over my head. "Where's my sister?"

"Oh ho!" The brutal voice exclaimed. "Sister, is it? You two didn't look much like siblings the way we found you. Looked more like you two had been shagging."

More laughter peeled from several other voices.

"Fucking degenerate flat-facer," the voice said. "Fucking your own sister! That'll be something the boys in processing will need to know. Don't you worry, your pretty little sister is right here sleeping on the deck right next to you. Time for you to join her. Night-night perv."

I felt a needle prick my arm and everything went silent as I lost consciousness.

~~~~~~

When I next awoke the sensation of flight was gone. I found my self lying on my side on what felt like a cold concrete floor, still in pitch black, but free from the backboard but still bound at the wrists and ankles by tight zip-ties. With my hands behind my back and ankles together It was difficult to move but I managed to get myself into a sitting position and scooted back until I felt a cold, cinder-block wall behind me.

While I was unconscious, scratchy clothing had been put on me. Probably a prison jumpsuit or something like it. It did little to alleviate the chill from the cold floor and walls, but it was better than being naked.

"Hello?" I said, the words sounded muffled because of the bag still over my head. I really didn't expect an answer, but I had to try. I hoped Gwen would answer me, in my heart I knew she wouldn't.

I sat there for what felt like hours riddled with guilt at leaving the hatch door open that lead to our capture. I wondered if the crass troopers on the helo had taken advantage of my sister while in flight. These and dozens of other thoughts raced through my mind. I descended to the very doorway of hell in my thoughts.

I pictured Gwen strapped to a backboard as I was in the helicopter, naked and displayed fully before the laughing V Squad. Her legs separated and ankles tied to the corners of the board affording an unobstructed view of her sweet pussy. Her breasts swaying and jostling as the chopper banked and turned.

In my mind the gruff trooper who spoke to me was the instigator to the others saying, "Well, if the bird doesn't mind shagging her own brother, she should be absolutely delighted to take care of the world's proud soldiers."

With that I pictured him rising from his seat and unzipping his tactical pants and fishing his dick out.

"She's got a fuck of a body," he growled in my mind's eye. "What ya think lads, recon her pussy is tight?"

A chorus of affirmations came from three or four other voices I imagined.

The first trooper reached for my sister's breasts first, roughly squeezing and mauling them. "Firm and smooth as they look lads," he informed his comrades in my vision. "A cock could feel right at home between them."

The images I conjured showed Gwen stir with the rough handling of her magnificent breasts. I could her a muffled cry of surprise and terror. She wrestled against her bindings to renewed, boisterous laughter from the men. A boot swung out and connected to her rib cage stopping her struggling and silencing her wails with a loud, "Oof."

The first trooper threw his head back and laughed as if we were a pirate on the bow of his ship defying the Imperial fleet. "Better quite down there birdie or I'll just knock you out again and still have my fun."

The isolation I was experiencing combined with the pitch black from the hood conspired further to unfold a scene of abuse to my dear sister. The trooper further mauled her delicate breasts with one hand as he prepared his cock for her with the other.

I imagined I could hear Gwen whimpering at the man's cruelty, but she dared not raised her voice or struggle again.

The still uniformed man worked his cock to hardness in my vision as he straddled my sister's chest and rubbed the tip against her nipples.

My mind manufactured a tortured gasp from my sister at the trooper's penis contacting her. A lecherous leer on his face split open as he spit on her and defiled her further. He rubbed his wicked staff around in the spit, slickening it, readying it for use.

"One of you lads come over here and hold her tits together," the trooper ordered to the others.

A younger man with the insignia of a corporal slid from his seat and held Gwen's milky globes together with shaking hands and more than a little fear and shame in his eyes my mind supplied. The older man, a Sergeant, pressed his spit-slickened cock between my sister's tits and humped forward, fucking her, defiling her.

"Those are some nice tits, aye Corporal?" he grunted as he continued his abuse of Gwen in my imagination.

In and out he fucked into her to the repeated whimpers my mind fabricated. Though I did not know if any of this had happened, my mind presented it all with such cruel clarity that I could feel the anger in me rising to rage with no outlet. What could I really do? I was bound, hooded, and likely locked in a very secure cell.

Back in the dark depths of my imagination, the Sergeant had had enough of Gwen's tits and moved down to her most private of regions. As he got up off her he reached between her legs with his rough hands and began savaging her delicate lower lips.

I envisioned my beautiful sister's muffled cry as the man gain spit on her, this time rubbing his spittle into her fully opened cunt. I wanted to attack him, to tear him apart, but my waking nightmare kept me back, an outside observer unable to interact with the actors in this horrible play.

The trooper got between her legs and aimed his glistening cock at her opening. Without and warning he defiled her by brutally pushing fully into her with a long, satisfied groan.

"She's a tight one," he grunted as he rutted on top of her, repeatedly pushing into her and pulling out. His face twisted in sexual ecstasy as he ferociously pounded into her.

After a few moments he grunted loudly and stiffened, I knew he was cumming in her sweet pussy. His evil sperm invading the depths that had just hours before caressed and engulfed my cock so lovingly. His cum occupying her cunt like a victorious army subjugating a defeated enemy.

The other troopers had all undone their pants as well and readied themselves for their turn with her. The young Corporal was next in line to fuck my helpless sister followed by the others. When they had finished, some had cum on her, other in her. Her alabaster skin was streaked with their filthy fluids and great globs of spunk oozed from her red, worn pussy.

I sobbed into the rough canvas bag covering my face. I felt hot tears roll down my face. Had those brutes degraded my sweet, gorgeous sister or was it just my imagination running wild because of my situation. I didn't know, I couldn't know, but my brain had told a compelling story and I heaved my chest as I sobbed as if what I had imagined was the actual truth of the matter.

I don't know how long I remained like that, horrified by my visions, shivering and huddled on the cold floor. The material of my hood was damp from my tears further irritating my neck where the zip-tie had abraded my skin.

I must have slipped into a restless sleep because I heard the click of hard-soled shoes on the floor and felt the pressure change as the door opened. More footsteps followed, it sounded like two sets, this time coming towards me. Rough hands lifted me, one person on each side.

I was so drained of energy and spirit I offered no resistance when they cut the tie on my hands and allowed them to drag me to what must have been a wheelchair. My arms were placed on the rests and zip-ties were again used to fasten me down. I did know that I was hungrier than I had ever felt in my life and my mouth was dryer than a dustbowl. I was groggy and felt fuzzy in the head.

The chair began to move forward, I could tell that we were in a hallway from the way the sound had changed. I heard hurried steps coming and going from both in front and behind me. Occasionally, I could hear voices in discussion with each other and once I heard the smart snap of heels coming together and a terse, "Sir!" barked loudly.

I heard the buzz of an electronic door and the release of a latch. The acoustics changed again, and I could tell we were in another smaller room. The person pushing me released the chair's handles and walked away. The door opened again and then slammed shut.

Just a few moments later I again heard the door buzz open, and several people entered. One person had on heavy shoes, but the other had on shoes that clicked as they struck the hard floor. It had been years since I had heard that sound, but it was unmistakable tapping of high heels.

I felt someone pull at the zip-tie around my neck and flinched as I heard a loud snip followed by bright light. I squeezed my eyes closed at the sudden harsh glare, but breathed in deeply, enjoying the cool air after having been hooded for so long. How long had it been? I didn't know. I could have been just a few hours or several days.

"My, you are a mess," a cool, female voice said chidingly. "You definitely need a shave and some cleaning up. We'll see that that happens shortly."

I carefully opened my eyes to find a uniformed trooper standing beside me intently watching me and a woman, also uniformed, a few steps in front of me. Her gaze was more aloof, like a researcher observing a rat's behavior in a cage. Her uniform was different than the combat fatigues the trooper wore. Hers was more formal, it had an olive drab skirt that fell to mid-calf, a white blouse buttoned to the neck, and a jacket that matched the skirt. The jacket had two pockets sitting atop her ample breasts, the right one had several colorful ribbons above it, the left a name tag that read, "Capt. Judith Reid, MD., PhD. USAMRIID." On her feet she wore black heels.

As my eyes adjusted, I began to make out details of the room. It was about 15 feet square and painted an institutional grey. The floor was sealed concrete, but otherwise unadorned. To my right, I could see a frosted window that dominated the wall from about two feet off the floor to the same distance from the ceiling and at least 10 feet wide. On the opposite wall there was another window, this one mirrored, higher up the wall, and only about four feet by three feet. There was a table in the middle with three chairs, two on one side and one directly across from them. In all four upper corners of the room were cameras. A person sitting at the table would have the windows on either side of them.

"I'm Captain Reid," the woman said stepping forward. She had dark hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head, piercing hazel eyes, and red lipstick on lips with a slight grin -- she was a TS survivor. "I'd shake your hand, but..." she gestured at my bound hands. "Anyway, I suppose you're wondering what you are doing here."

"Where's Gwen?" I croaked, barely able to form words with my dry mouth and throat.

"Gwen?" the captain asked flippantly. "Oh yes, the woman that came in with you. I heard you told our troopers that she is your sister. Is that right?"

I nodded, before grunting out, "Where?"

"Oh, she's here, quite close actually," the uniformed woman said dismissively.

"Show," I managed through my painfully dry throat. My eyes had taken on a wild look that did not go unnoticed by the trooper who placed a huge hand on my shoulder, holding me down in the wheelchair.

"I assure you she's fine," the captain promised as she sat on the edge of the table. "But I need to know who you are. What's your name?"

"L-Lance," I rasped, my eyes watering from the pain in my throat.

"My goodness, where are my manners?" the captain asked as she poured water from a metal pitcher on the table into a metal cup. She held it to my lips and gently tipped it up. I sipped the cool liquid in, choking a bit at first and then greedily gulping. When the cup was empty, she set it back down next to the pitcher.

"There you go, better?" she asked her stigmatic grin spreading slightly wider into a pleasant smile. "You're probably wondering where you are. Well, I can't tell you exactly, but if your as observant as I think you are, you probably noticed my name tag and the USAMRIID designation on it. So, that's where you are."

"How long?" I asked, my voice recovering somewhat with the help of the water.

"See now, there's that bright boy," she said, her smile widening more. "You and, Gwen is it, have been our guest for a week now."

A week, my mind screamed. How could that be? He knew that his sense of time had been altered, but a week. It seemed impossible.

"I can tell by the shock on your face that that comes as a surprise," the captain said. "We kept you sedated. I guess you didn't notice the bandage on your arm where we removed the IV."

I looked at my right arm, just as she said there would be I saw a small wad of gauze held in place by medical tape.

"Why are we here?" I asked as my faculties began to return fully. Why were we at USAMRIID rather than a more local processing and detention center? How did we get there -- USAMRIID was in Maryland, and we had been in North Georgia?

"The wheels are turning now, aren't they?" the woman said in a voice that sounded pleased with my curiosity. "Alright, let me fill you in. Originally you were taken to the regional center near Atlanta. But, after your first screening you were both flagged because of an irregularity in your genes. You both have the gene we need, but its different. We've only seen the mutation you and Gwen have a few other times. So, congratulations, you're both special."

Special. I didn't feel special, I felt like a test monkey in a cage waiting for a banana to drop out a chute for doing what a researcher wanted. I felt like a prisoner deprived of my rights.

"And another thing," the captain began leaning in closer to me, smiling her soothing smile. "Your sister, as the troopers who brought you in said you called her, is pregnant. No, don't do that," she said as I shook my head. "We can tell a lot earlier than conventional medicine can. And, since the V Squad also told us you were both naked when they found you, I think its pretty easy to conclude that you are the father. Well, that and the paternity tests we ran."

The news hit me like a wrecking ball crashing into a building. Gwen, pregnant with our child. My first instinct was to be happy I was to be a father. But that abruptly faded when I realized that instead of two people effected by my carelessness in leaving the hatch open, now there were three. Three people who would likely become life-long test subjects in the hands of a government desperate to regain control of the people and bring an end to the plague of The Squeeze.

She pulled away turning to the large window before continuing.

"To be honest, we know a lot about you both," the captain said without turning around. "In fact, once we drew your blood and examined your genetic material we knew your names, your parent's names, even your grandparent's names. Genetic information has been collected from people for decades. Every time your blood is drawn a small portion is sequenced and the information is added to our database. Your family... it has a very interesting history."

I had thought the fog had cleared from my mind, but what this doctor in uniform was telling me was unbelievable. The government had been secretly collecting genetic information on citizens for years. Well, if Reid was telling the truth. And what did she mean my family has an "interesting" history? Did our family genetics reveal something that Gwen and I knew nothing about?

I shook my head to clear the thought. I'd deal with that later; I still had a lot to process. I still did not know where Gwen was, whether she was okay.

"Where's Gwen," I demanded, the urgency apparent in my voice.

"Like I said earlier," Reid cooed. "She's very close. And, she has company, too."

With that she turned, looked at the upper, mirrored window and nodded.

The frosted window suddenly cleared and on the other side I saw Gwen in an identical room, strapped to a chair just like me. I could tell she had been crying from the puffiness of her face. I strained against my bindings, the trooper pressing firmly down on my shoulder.

Gwen lurched against her bindings as well, a trooper held her down on her side of the window just as mine did. I could see her begin to cry again and thrash frantically in her chair. She was obviously frantic, and the guard struggled to keep her as still as possible. It was a fight he was losing.

Gwen's hysteria fueled my own distress and I, too, struggled against my captor. I strained so hard that the nylon bands around my wrists bit into my flesh drawing blood.

Suddenly, I froze and stared. Seated side by side at the table were two other people: a man and a woman. I hadn't noticed them because their faces were turned sideways to me. In my mind, they were just two more captors observing their subjects. But they weren't.

The man, who was seated furthest from the big window, leaned forward a bit and turned his head towards me at the same time as the woman. The man had salt and pepper greying hair, bright blue eyes, and an athletic build. The woman also had blue eyes, her hair was greying, but a hint of its former color was still evident. Her hair was red.

Seated at the table in Gwen's room were our parents. Our parents who had died in a hit and run accident on Georgia 400 facetiously known as the Hospitality Highway. The police had told us that they believed it was a drunk driver who had run them off the road and into a tree before leaving the scene.

I remembered the night the doorbell rang at 12:30 in the morning. I had gone to bed around 11:00, tired from a swim meet I had participated in earlier that day, but Gwen was still up watching television. The ringing of the doorbell registered in my sleeping mind and brought me from slumber to that dreamy layer just below wakefulness.