Resistance
4. Monday
Robert woke with a start, then a groan. The interrogation had gone on all night, and when the soldiers had grown tired, they’d simply left him sitting there in the chair, handcuffs and all. He could barely feel his hands at all and when he shrugged his shoulders they screamed in agony.
Better you then Meghan, he told himself, and the thought was comforting. This pain could easily have been his daughter’s, and he would gladly accept it ten times over. He was beyond relieved that his one bargaining chip had paid off, and yet, there was just a small nagging doubt...
What if, he wondered.
He had asked his daughter if anyone had touched her outside of Quarantine, and she’d said no. Robert had believed her; he’d always been able to read the truth in people’s faces, it was what made him one hell of a card player, and yet, there was something else there, something just a little off, some indiscernible... thing...
It didn’t matter. Everything was fine, and if it hadn’t been they would have known right away—that’s how it worked. And Robert should know. He knew practically everything there was to know about Erika’s Vengeance. Didn’t he?
What if...
Robert wondered what his daughter was doing right now.
Meghan woke with a loud groan. The sunlight streamed into her bedroom, as she lay there on top of the covers, in the clothes she’d been wearing for just about two days straight. The button to her jeans were undone, the zipper down, one hand inside of her panties. Her back was arched, her rear raised off the mattress as she masturbated while slowly coming to wakefulness.
What... what she was doing, she wondered blearily. But the pleasure was just incredible. She’d never felt anything like it. She was so wet down there, she could feel her panties were literally soaked. She had two fingers inside of herself, slick with her own lubricant, sliding in and out of herself.
She groaned again, then rolled over onto her stomach, knees tucked up, ass in the air as she continued fingering herself.
Her face pressed into a pillow, Meghan moaned loudly, eyes shut tightly. There was some half remembered fantasy, some vague dream of getting taken from behind, of being hot and sexy and slutty...
Her hand between her legs worked faster. Dirty, nasty, rutting...
Meghan groaned again, stifling the noises in her pillow, eyes still closed, trying not to let reality invade. Her hips moved up and down to meet own thrusting fingers, the elusive dream swirling in her mind, before finally coalescing again.
Ah, there it was. Zack’s big cock fucking her. Crystal’s wandering hands feeling her up. Being a fit, horny, big titted slut, bent over a car, fornicating for all the world to see...
The orgasm hit Meghan like a speeding bullet, and she squealed loudly, humping her own hand, gushing all over.
For several moments, she lay there in bed panting, feeling her heart thundering in her chest. Then, pulling her wet sticky hand from out of her pants, she sat up slowly, thoughtfully.
What was going on with her? She wasn’t such a... hormonal person. If anything, she was the opposite. She was usually too self conscious and embarrassed to really fantasize, even in the sanctum of her own mind. And then... “private time” wasn’t really something she did a lot of, and on those infrequent occasions, it was nothing like... well, what she’d just done. She sucked her fingers thoughtfully.
And then there were those crazy dreams, the ones about Zack and Crystal. And then... that creepy, disgusting moment... no... dream... about Derek..! That was definitely a dream. A yucky, crazy dream.
It was only then that Meghan realized she was sucking on the fingers that had just been down her pants. Ugh!! Oh, sick. What’s wrong with me, Meghan wondered. She immediately got out of bed and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower. She undressed out of her grimy clothes and slipped out of her damp panties, studying herself in the mirror as she waited for the water to warm up.
Nope, she thought bleakly, pinching the flab of her belly as she stared at her reflection. She was nothing like her dream self in the red dress. Suddenly, she impulsively reached up and cupped her own modest bust as best as she could; it wouldn’t be fair to say they were even a handful. It was a totally peculiar and uncharacteristic thing for her to do but she could still vividly remember how they felt, her big, heavy boobs in her dream, firm yet supple, the heft of them, the weight bouncing in her hands—the complete opposite of reality, yet so clear in her mind, almost like a memory...
God, you’d think with all the extra fat on her, some of it would go to her chest, the thought came, unbidden and bitter.
whatever, Meghan thought with a sigh, stepping into the shower. It was all just wishful thinking, combined with the stress and strangeness of the previous day.
The shower felt glorious. It seemed like an eternity since she’d last bathed, and after the trip out of the QZ combined with her overnight stay in detention, she more than needed it. Meghan basked under the hot water, taking her time washing her long, dirty blonde hair, then lazily soaping up. Running her hands all over herself, slick with soap in the steamy shower, she unexpectedly felt herself getting turned on again, with a rapid suddenness that was bewildering.
As she reached down to wash her feet, then her ankles, then her knees, the force was not be denied. She felt her slickery hands effortlessly slide up her thighs, practically of their own accord to the burning heat between her legs.
What the hell is going on with me..?
Meghan stayed in the shower for a long while.
As she emerged from the steam filled bathroom, nearly an hour later, toweling off her hair, she felt troubled. This was definitely not normal. But almost immediately after, Meghan’s imagination conjured up the squirm inducing, embarrassing scene of her trying to explain the problem to a shifting multitude of various authority figures in her life: her parents, her physician, the school nurse...
No thank you, Meghan thought. For as long as it lasted, this would stay a private, personal problem.
With the matter settled for the time being, Meghan got dressed, and found herself getting right back into her typical weekend routine. She headed for the kitchen and pulled various vegetables out of the refrigerator, then put them in the blender until the mix was completely liquified. She poured the concoction into a glass, and went up to Derek’s room, feeding him his breakfast, then following it up with a glass of water as she had the night before. It was important to keep Derek hydrated, and the water helped to rinse away any food matter that might otherwise stay in his mouth and fester. She would brush his teeth later in the day.
Dabbing at his chin, she looked her unconscious brother over, and thought that something about him seemed a bit improved, perhaps livelier somehow. But she knew it was just wishful thinking. Thinking of her failure again, she stood there, gazing sadly at Derek for a few moments before returning to her room.
What now, Meghan thought, lying on her own bed, staring at the ceiling. She wasn’t to leave the house, and she certainly would heed her father’s instruction. Her father… When would he come back? And her mother? It would be days before she could come back from patrol duty. Maybe she would sneak away and check in? Meghan was hopeful but also pessimistic. In light of everything that had happened, there would be too much suspicion if she were to go missing. Unless her father was released sooner, it would be at least a week before she could expect any help.
Until then, she was on her own.
So what now, Meghan thought again. If it were a normal day, she would head out and hang out with friends (social outliers like herself), agonizing over the cafeteria episode. Zack and Crystal, what a pair of jerks. At least she had summer as a reprieve and the unlikely possibility that the ‘Muffin-top Meghan’ moniker could somehow be forgotten and die before the school year started again.
Maybe she could show them, she thought, wistfully fantasizing. She’d use all summer long to work out and lose weight and get in shape and blow the whole school away.
She’d be just like… just like her dream self, in the red dress… Fit and toned, curvaceous… overtly sexy… and sexual…
And again, Meghan felt that sudden, overwhelming, burning need overcome her.
What the hell is going on with me, she wondered again, as her hand crept down to her crotch, rubbing herself through her jeans. Something… something is wrong with me…
The dream, so vivid in her memory, crowded out the concerns. Her hands went to her waist, unbuttoning her pants, slipping inside.
A hot slut in a tight red dress…
As it turned out, Meghan was able to pass the day away with no trouble at all.