Jane update

Latest progress on Jane. I'll be changing a few things in part one, namely adding a few bombs on board the plane. Part one is getting pretty close to being finished. As with all Jane updates, there are inspirational pictures at the end.

Jane Stalwart and the Lost World

A Stalwart Universe Story

Copyright 2020 by Stormbringer





Chapter One: The Flight of the Red Tails



Alamogordo Army Air Field, Alamogordo New Mexico, 1944

The jeep swerved to avoid a pothole in the dirt road, the driver taking another opportunity to glance down at his passenger’s legs. Her uniform skirt was short and slit up the side. The slit tantalized him with glimpses of the tops of her stockings and a garter strap. Looking down, her nylon covered hose was covering a pair of gams that put Betty Grable’s million-dollar legs to shame. He swerved to avoid another pothole.

The jeep bumped as they left the dirt road and began riding over the paved runway toward the waiting plane. He leaned over, turning his head. “They call it the widow-maker, ma’am.” His eyes flickered down to her chest and cleavage even more impressive than her legs.

“I’m aware of that, Captain,” she replied, her red lipstick covered lips turning up into a dazzling smile.

Her eyes were hidden behind dark framed Wilsonite sunglasses.

Another jeep was waiting beside the plane. The driver stood at ease beside the passenger door.

Watching the approaching jeep was an officer and a woman. The woman was dressed as a civilian in a blue dress, belted at the waist. She held on hand on her head holding down a wide-brimmed hat to keep it from blowing off. Long blonde hair was waving behind her in the strong breeze.

The jeep pulled up next to the plane. “I’ll get the door for you, ma’am,” said the driver, rushing to get out.

“No need, Captain,” said his passenger, scooting her legs up underneath her and deftly jumping over the side of the jeep. She shook out her raven dark tresses which showed no signs of being windswept as she placed her cap on her head. The General watched her approach, stand at attention and salute him.

“General Harris, sir.”

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Stalwart,” he replied, looking at her both lustfully and disapprovingly.

“Major, sir.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s Major Stalwart.”

The General raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Negroes and women,” he muttered, giving a

“Harrumph,” that would have made any of his British counterparts proud.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“What kind of special operation utilizes negroes and women, Miss… Major Stalwart.”

“One of vital importance to the war effort, sir.” She gave the aircraft a look over. It was a B26-A

“Marauder” bomber, named the Blackbird with a crow’s head painted near the nose. One of the black crewmen was perched on the tail painting it red. The pilot and co-pilot were in the cockpit doing some flight checks. “So, these are your famous black airmen?”

“I wouldn’t call them famous, Major, but the negroes training at the Tuskegee Army Air Field in Alabama are performing… adequately.”

“May I ask why he’s painting the tail red?”

“In protest maybe? Or perhaps to honor the other coloreds fighting in Italy? They’ve taken to painting the tails of their P47 Thunderbolts red. This crew wasn’t too pleased when they found out they were flying to Texas and not Europe.” The General turned to examine the plane. “Are you sure, you don’t mind a negro crew for this mission? In a few weeks, some of my trainees should be ready.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have the time, General,” replied Jane.

“No one asked me,” said the blonde for the first time.

Jane turned her attention to the woman. She had a thin build and a perfect hourglass shape. Her eyes were turned on the black men with distaste. She turned towards Jane, her eyes were as bright and blue as Jane’s own. She would have been lovely if her face wasn’t twisted up with distaste for the black crewmen. “And you are?”

“Forgive me,” said the General. “Lady Jane Stalwart, this is Doctor Lisa Smith, the geologist you requested.”

“She’s not the one I requested, sir. Where’s Professor Powell?”

Dr. Smith’s expression drooped. “I’m afraid Professor Powell recently passed. I was his associate professor and… his fiancé.” She reached into a small purse and took out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes.

Jane reached out and touched the woman’s shoulder. “My condolences. The Professor was an associate of mine and a good man, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you, and it’s Doctor Smith.” She straightened up and tucked the handkerchief back into her purse. “I can assure you, Lady Jane, that I’m as up to date on our subject matter as the Professor was. I also brought the lead containers that you requested.”

“And what exactly is this subject matter?” interrupted the General.

“I’m afraid that’s on a need to know basis, General,” said Jane, watching the heavy-set man’s cheeks flush with anger. He harrumphed again.

Lisa smiled, taking pleasure in the General’s indignation. Jane had been correct, her smile brought out her beauty. She looked mid-twenties, more than half Professor Powell’s age, but then he’d had a

reputation for dating his students. “I’m afraid I don’t have much field experience and I’m not sure I’ll be much help, especially if what you said in your letter was true, but I wanted to do this for Jim and for my country, of course.”

Jane nodded. “It all goes according to plan; the airmen get us there and back and you never have to leave the plane. I’ll do all the leg work. I didn’t exactly come down with the last rain shower. I’m quite experienced in jungle survival and also experienced enough to know that nothing ever goes according to plan.”

Lisa nodded. I’ll see to my equipment.” She turned and walked away. Jane’s eyes flickered down her back, over her posterior and down her legs. She wasn’t wearing hose, but had painted a line down the back of her legs.

“CROWE!” The General bellowed, motioning for the pilot to come down and join them.

The pilot gave him a thumbs up and disappeared from the cockpit. He came climbing out of the nose wheel entrance a moment later. The black man looked quite dashing in his flight jacket, though he clearly was hot and sweating. He was fine specimen of a man, big, strong, and handsome, with a Clark Gable mustache. He didn’t attempt to hide his glance at her bosom which was bold for a negro. Like many pilots, he was arrogant and full of swagger. He also made her pussy quiver.

“Captain Crowe, this is Major Jane Stalwart on loan to us from the British Special Operations Executive,”

said Harris.

“James Crowe, ma’am,” he said, saluting her.

“Captain,” she answered saluting back.

“They call me the Blackbird, ma’am.” His eyes flickered down to her breasts again before quickly moving back up to her face. “If you don’t mind my asking, ma’am, have we met?”

“I don’t believe so, Captain.”

“Hmm, apologies, I just swear I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“No problem, Captain. Has my gear been loaded?”

“They’re finishing now, Major.” Captain Crowe gestured towards the bottom of the plane where some men were lifting some boxes up through the bomb bay doors. “When would you like to leave?”

“Immediately. I’d like to get back to the war as soon as possible.”

Jim Crowe straightened up and saluted. “Me too, Ma’am.”

“And I’d like to get this war over,” interjected General Harris. “Then we can all go back to normal, Major.

You can go back to being a homemaker and Captain Crowe and his boys can go back to picking cotton.”

“I’ve never been a homemaker, General,” said Jane.

“And I’ve never picked cotton, sir,” said Jim.

“What is your profession, Captain?” asked Jane.

“Mechanic, ma’am. With some boxing on the side.” Jim saluted Jane again. “I’ll prepare us for takeoff.”

He turned towards Harris and saluted. “General.”

Harris nodded and watched Crowe walking over to his men where he started bellowing at them to prepare for takeoff. “Sometimes, I feel like a dinosaur watching the world pass me by.”

“There’s an ancient Chinese curse, General,” said Jane, watching Crowe. “May you live in interesting times. These are interesting times, sir.”

“That they are, Major.” He turned and saluted her.

“Your briefcase, ma’am,” said Jane’s driver, handing her the case.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry, the B-26 doesn’t generally use a stair for boarding,” said Harris.

“Not an issue, General.” Jane walked towards the plane. Doctor Smith was being helped aboard through the nose wheel’s well. One of the airmen was pulling himself up through the waist window. The crewman that had been painting the tail red, jumped off the wing and landed in front of Jane. He stared at her in stunned disbelief for a moment. He barely looked eighteen. Just a kid, though Jane. He was a dark African black, but Jane could see the color visibly drain from his face. He was staring directly at her, not even taking a sneak peak down at her breasts. He turned away, trying to beat her inside the plane.

“Ladies first, Bullock,” said Crowe, grabbing the airman’s shoulder.

“But sir,” said the young black man, nodding towards Jane and then towards the plane.

“Stand down, airman.”

Jane walked past them and reached up for the waist window. Her skirt rode up, all the male eyes watching her, staring down at the exposed thigh, the glimpse of white flesh above her stocking and the flesh colored garter holding it up. There was a tear running down one side of her hose. “Shoot,” said Jane, coming back down on her feet and examining the tear.

“I hope you’re as concerned about your mission and the war effort as you are your stockings, Miss Stalwart,” said General Harris.

Jane stepped out of her shoes and while all the men were watching her, she pulled her skirt up and unhooked her nylons from the garter strap. She rolled her nylons down, exposing her shapely legs, pulling them off her feet. She bunched her hose up and tossed it at Harris, catching him under the nose.

He grabbed her stockings and stared at them. “For the war effort,” said Jane.

She stood on her bare toes and pulled herself up through the waist window as skillfully as an Olympic gymnast.



**********

Jane turned and leaned down as Crowe handed her shoes up through the window. She turned. Bullock was scrambling up the nose wheel well and racing for the far wall. “I’ve already seen it, airman,” she told him.

Another black man had been staring at her rear while she leaned out the window. He looked at her frowned, then over at Bullock. Suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed.

Bullock took his hat off and wrung it between his hands. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know, you’d be our passenger. I just thought you were so purty and all, ma’am. I traded some beer to a British flight instructor for it and…”

“At ease Bullock. I’m not offended.”

“HA!” bellowed a laugh. “That’s where I’ve seen you before,” said Jim Crowe coming up beside her. He stared down at the pinup taped to the wall. “Wow Major, you’re somewhat famous.”

“Somewhat,” replied Jane. Jane’s adventures had been featured in Life and National Geographic. She was better known back home then here in the states, but she had her following.

The pinup was of Jane sitting sidesaddle on a bomb. She was wearing her green uniform skirt, pulled back nearly to her knickers. The tops of her stockings and her garter were visible. Her uniform top was off, leaving her bare shouldered in a white corselet that revealed a lot of her cleavage. Remember what you’re fighting for, was written across the top. Happy Birthday, Adolph, was written on the bomb. The bomb had been dropped on Germany in April of 1941, a red lipstick kiss outline beside Hitler’s name.

Her pinup was nicknamed, The Brit with the Tits.

Along the aircraft’s interior were a couple other pinups, Rita Hayworth and Lena Horne. Some blankets and sleeping bags were lined up along the wall. “Good, you brought sleeping gear.”

“Had to ma’am,” said Crowe. “There’s no barracks for coloreds at Alamogordo.” He turned and in a commanding voice yelled, “Everyone lineup for our mission briefing.” The crew gathered around Jane with Lisa standing behind her looking with distaste at the black men. “First up Major, is Lt Lee Archer, my co-pilot.” Archer nodded at her. He was older than Crowe, maybe mid-forties, wore a wedding ring and had a large pot belly though his arms appeared quite muscular. “Lt. Chester Burton, our navigator and radio operator.” Burton was dark black, bald, with very African features. He appeared in his twenties. “Burton will also be the photographer you requested.”

“This is for you, Lieutenant,” she said, handing him a folder with their flight plan.

“The Amazon?” said Burton with surprised. The airmen looked at each other.

“Lt. Julius Calhoun, Ma’am,” said Calhoun, saluting Jane. “Nose gunner and bombardier, but since we’re not carrying any bombs and you’re not going to need a nose gunner if we’re going to the Amazon, you could have let me go fight the Nazis.” He was dark brown, short and rather skinny, but he appeared to have a lot of spunk.

“Don’t be so sure, Lt. Calhoun,” said Jane.

Jim Crowe took over again. “The enlisted men are Langston Cain, our groups dad, Leroy Burke, and you’ve already had the pleasure of embarrassing Mr. Bullock.”

“All shucks, I wasn’t that embarrassed,” said James Bullock. “Do you want me to take it down, Ma’am?”

“Of course, not Mr. Bullock,” she replied. “Remind me to sign it for you.” There were some chuckles from the crowd as Bullock’s black cheeks turned darker.

“Burke is our engineer. He can just about tinker anything,” said Crowe, pointing towards the oldest of the group.

Leroy Burke was dark black, husky, and looked in his sixties. He wasn’t wearing his crew hat and his bald pate was glistening with sweat. White hair circled his bald spot and he sported a bushy white mustache.

“I’ll rig up a privacy curtain for you ladies,” he said.

“That won’t be necess…”

“That would be necessary,” said Lisa interrupting Jane. “Thank you.”

“Cain is a gunner.”

Langston Cain was brown-skinned, and tall with a thin build. He was bent over an open box he’d been snooping in. “We may not have bombs, but we’ve got some really big guns.” He reached in and pulled out a huge rifle.

“Those are elephant guns,” said Jane.

“We hunting elephants?” asked Calhoun.

“There aren’t any elephants in South America,” said Bullock.

“Then why do we need elephant guns?” asked Cain, examining the large heavy caliber rifle.”

“Easy Mr. Cain,” said Jane. “For the dinosaurs.”



**********

It took a while for the chattering to stop as the men looked at each other in disbelief. Finally, a perplexed Bullock looked over at her. “But dinosaurs are extinct, Ma’am. I done read me every book on dinosaurs I could get my hands on.”

“Not to bust your chops, ma’am,” said Cain, “but the birthday boy ain’t no fat-head. He’s got the book smarts.”

“My chops remain unbusted, Mr. Cain.” Jane looked around, smiling and nodding at Jimmy Bullock.

“Birthday boy?”

“Nineteen today, ma’am,” said Jimmy Bullock.

Jane smiled, stood up straight and swept the room with her eyes. “Young Mr. Bullock is mostly correct, but there are dinosaurs that have survived.” There were gasps and smirks of disbelief from the mostly disbelieving men. “In 1912, one of my countrymen, Professor George Edward Challenger was approached by the daughter of an explorer Maple White who had been missing in the amazon jungle for years. Only one of his Indian guides returned and in his possession was the journal of Maple White.

White was looking for a means of entry onto a giant plateau deep in the jungle when he disappeared.

Included in this journal were sketches of what appear to be pterodactyls sitting on rock ledges high on the plateau.”

“A sketch isn’t exactly this kind of proof,” said Burton, holding up his camera.

“Challenger put together an expedition to Maple White land accompanied by White’s daughter Paula, a Professor Summerlee, Ed Malone, a reporter for the Daily Gazette, and Lord John Roxton. They were able to find their way onto the plateau and there encountered multiple species of dinosaurs.”

“What kind of dinosaurs?” asked Bullock. He was wide-eyed and listening raptly.

“Iguanodons, stegosauruses, an allosaur, and even extinct species of mammals.” Jane had the attention of all the men. “They also aided a native Indian tribe in defeating a band of brutish ape-men before finding their way off the plateau and returning home.”

“Did they have proof?” Burke held his camera up again.

“Some say yes and some say no. Challenger presented their proof before the Zoological Institute, a baby pterodactyl. It promptly broke free and flew out of a roof window. Many members of the institute refused to believe they had seen anything, others claimed they were hypnotized, and still others swear they saw a living breathing pterosaur.”

“And you believe the latter?” asked Crowe.

“Yes, because one of the latter was my father, Lord John Stalwart. I knew Professor Challenger and though I found him a bit eccentric, I’ve never known him to be a liar. The Challenger expedition also returned with something else.” Jane paused for dramatic effect. “They had collected bunches of clay balls which when cracked open, held diamonds. The men all became quite rich.” The men who hadn’t been interested in the dinosaurs were suddenly interested.

“So, we’re collecting diamonds for the war effort?” asked Crowe, leaning against the side of the plane with his arms folded.

“No.” Jane took a deep breath. “What I am about to tell you is a state secret known only to the governments a few countries. It is for your ears only and you are all hereby sworn to silence. If you can’t keep quiet, leave now.” None of the men moved to leave. Jane smiled. “Challenger didn’t tell the entire story. He noted in a secret journal that during the evenings in Maple White Land, the North East of this Lost World glowed green, similar to an aurora borealis effect. Challenger hypothesized that the green glow was coming from a large concentration of Vril.”

“Of what?” asked Cain.

“Vril.” Jane paused. “Vril is… Doctor Smith, why don’t you take this?”



Lisa stepped forward. “My name is Lisa Smith, Doctor Smith to all of you. My doctorate is in geology. Vril is an element, but also a latent source of energy. It can be mastered by force of will and shaped by the user’s desires. It’s a natural element forming deep underground, but most of the Vril I’m aware of came to earth as meteorites and were shaped into artifacts by ancient cultures. It can heal wounds, cure illnesses or destroy cities. It exists as all forms of matter, solid, liquid, or gas. Liquid Vril is raw and can be shaped through force of will into items of great power. It can

enhance physical features, waken dormant powers of the mind, or even power this plane without ever needing to refuel. If it wasn’t so dangerous, it could be of great benefit to all mankind.”



“You believe this Major Stalwart?” asked Bullock.



Jane took a deep breath. “I do. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. You’re seeing it with your own eyes.”



“How so?” asked Crowe.



“You men probably haven’t noticed, but I have a rather large bosom.” There was silence for a few seconds then some chuckles. “They are a result of multiple contacts that I have had with Vril. The first was when I fell into a Vril infused well as a teenager. I fell in a rather scrawny fifteen-year-old and emerged with more feminine curves, larger breasts, an IQ in the genius range, and I never forget anything I see or read. Bathing in a second Vril pool grew my breasts even further. That was ten years ago and to the best of my knowledge, I haven’t aged nor have I gained even a pound of weight with the exception of a Vril artifact increasing my bosom and rear end on another occasion.” Someone gave a long low whistle in the group. “I could tell you more, but the less you know the better. The Nazis, the Japs, and even the Soviets are aware of Vril and actively seeking deposits for their own purposes. Our mission is to take a geological survey of the area, determine if any or how much Vril is located in Maple White Land and return with two drops of liquid Vril. Doctor Smith’s mentor had devised a lead-based container that should hold the raw Vril.”



“What do you need from us, Major?” asked a voice in the crowd.



Jane grinned wryly. “Just a ride. We’re hoping to locate a place to land the plane. I’ll head off to locate the Vril, acquire the samples, and return. You may not even have to leave the safety of the airplane.”



“Not even to look for diamonds, ma’am?” asked Burke.



“Maple White Land is dangerous, more dangerous than the African jungle. I’m trained in jungle survival and I’ve been doing this a long time. I’m the best possible choice for this mission. The weapons are for a scenario where things don’t go according to plan.”



“What if we can’t find a place to land?” said Crowe.



“Then I parachute out. You take the plane to an airfield in Manaus. I’ll make my way off the plateau and come down the Amazon to meet you there. It will be difficult, but I’m could find my way down. Maybe even parachute off the edge.”



Crowe stood up. “Well then, crew, prepare for takeoff.” He looked over at Archer.

“Get the engines started, Spanky.” Then he turned his attention on Burton. “You can get us there, Chester?”



“Easy Cap, Havana and Caracas anyway. The flight plan doesn’t even have the exact location of Maple White Land, just possible locations.”



“If we fly high enough, we should be able to spot it,” said Crowe just as the two engines spun to life.



“Major, if you don’t have objections, we should arrive in Havana a little after dark. I’d like everyone to get a good night’s sleep. We can leave early, land in Caracas, do a quick refuel before taking off again to look for your supposed dinosaur plateau.”



“No objections, Captain,” said Jane, smiling at his skepticism.





**********



Burke went to work rigging up a curtain for the two women to have some privacy as soon as they were in the air. “Stuffy in here,” said Lisa. “Not a lot of room either.”



Burke took a deep whiff through his nose. “Smells like new car and hot metal.” He grinned and exhaled. “There’d be even less room if we were carrying bombs. Sorry ladies, but this is the best I can do. I know it’s not the Ritz, but we call it home.”



“It will do just nicely, Burke. Thank you,” said Jane.



“Ma’am,” he said to Dr. Smith, touching a finger to his forehead in salute. “Major.”

He nodded at Jane, before slipping through the curtain.



Jane rolled out a sleeping bag while an embarrassed Doctor Smith urinated in an urn before slipping through the curtain to dump it out a window. There were no windows inside the curtain and Smith turned on an electric lamp. “Might I ask a favor, Major?”



“Certainly, doc.”



Lisa Smith bristled a little at the informal title. “I’d like to examine your breasts.”

“You should at least buy me dinner first,” said Jane, raising an eyebrow.



Smith gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ve never examined a Vril enhanced subject before.”



“Certainly, doc.” Jane undid the front of her uniform, pulling it off. She bent down and pushed her uniform skirt down her legs. Jane stood back up, wearing a bullet bra, cotton knit panties, and her garter belt wrapped around just under her navel. The straps were still dangling. Jane went ahead and stretched the garter belt around her hips and slipped it down her legs. “Those were my last pair of hose,” she complained.

She stood back up and slipped her bra straps off her shoulders. “I got my bras custom fitted in Paris before the war.” Jane’s breasts cleared the bra, springing up.



Lisa gasped, staring at them. Her eyes were focused on Jane’s semi-erect nipples.

Despite the size of her breasts, they were firm and stood up proudly with no apparent sag. Her nipples were thick, perfectly centered, pointing straight out with large areolae. “May I?” Lisa paused, her hands reaching out. Jane nodded. Lisa cupped her hands under Jane’s breasts, hefting them. “Heavy,” she muttered. “Do you have any back pain?”



“Not at all. My body seems to have adapted to the extra weight. My derriere’s increased size seems to help balance me out. They feel perfectly normal to me.”



Doctor Smith, leaned back, glancing at Jane’s rear end. Her buttocks were firm and well rounded. Lisa turned her attention back to Jane’s front, stepping back. Luckily, Jane was tall, otherwise her torso would be mostly bosom, but with her height, she still had a long torso with a fit stomach. Her taut stomach, arms, and legs were feminine, but with the slight musculature of an active woman. “And this happened after you fell in a well?”



“The first time. The Well of Urd.”



“The Well of Fate. Your father reported a cave-in covering the well.”



“You’re well informed.”



Lisa grinned. “And the pool?”



“The Well of Mimir.”



“Wisdom. Where Odin sacrificed his eye to gain knowledge of the future. And that further enhanced your figure?”

“Yes… and,” Jane hesitated. “Ever since then, I have random flashes of insight. I can hold something and see glimpses of the past and sometimes the future.”



Lisa exhaled, hissing through her teeth. “Just like Odin in the sagas.” Jane nodded, while Lisa reached into her pocket. She pulled out a loupe, the ocular device jewelers used to magnify gems. “But you didn’t bath alone. Your lady’s maid bathed with you.

Did she develop any abilities?”



Jane was frowning. “You’re exceptionally well-informed.”



“With the death of my fiancé, I’m the States foremost expert on Vril. I have the ear of President Roosevelt, Major.” Lisa placed the loupe in her eye and held it while examining Jane’s left eye before moving on to the right.



“No doctor, my maid, Patricia didn’t show any signs of Vril enhancement outside of her physical growth.”



“I see it!”



“What?”



“You have green flakes in your irises. Most cases of Vril enhanced individuals tend to have green eyes after their… infection. Your eyes remained blue, but I can make out green particles. Fascinating.” Lisa tucked the loupe away. She stepped back, bending down to look at Jane’s nipples. “Mimir’s well, is there still access to it?”



“That’s a state secret.”



“How much would it take to reveal that secret?” asked Lisa, still bent over, her eyes rolling up to look at Jane.



“Are you a spy, Doctor Smith?”



“No, just a patriot.”



“As am I, doc. I’m also very rich.”



“Well, I had to try.” Lisa pointed at Jane’s nipples. “May I?”



“Be my guest.”



Lisa ran her fingers around the outside of Jane’s plump nipples. They began to swell.

“Did these grow also?”



“Yes,” said Jane, her pulse quickening. “Their sensitivity increased as well.”



“You’re aware of the third well, Major?”



Jane’s arousal was growing as Doctor Smith’s fingers tugged at her nipples.

“Hvergelmir,” she gasped.



“And of the prophecy that anyone drinking from all three wells would gain godlike powers?”



“I’ve read the sagas.”



“Have you looked for the Well of Hvergelmir?”



“I wouldn’t know where to start,” she lied.





**********



The nude redhead slid down the side of the smooth rock and into the pool. Jane playfully splashed her when her head popped back up out of the water. An underground cavern with a hot spring inside it was like an oasis in a desert to the two young women especially in the frigid North of Sweden. Patty floated on her back, red hair waving in the water, erect nipples pointing up like pink stalagmites. Jane had never seen her friend’s nipples so hard and thick, some combination of the freezing temperatures outside and the hot water making them grow. Her own nipples were so hard they ached.



Jane dived under the water, opening her eyes as she swam under Patty. The water glowed with green light, some sort of phosphorescent algae illuminating the cavern in an eerie light. When she surfaced, Patty was wading through the water towards their clothes warming beside a fire. “J-Jesus w-wept,” stuttered Patty, bending down like she was in pain, her pale rear end looked fuller to Jane. Patty stood and turned around.

“M-my breasts?” Patty’s breasts were expanding, becoming fuller rounder, her farthing-sized areolae spreading out with her growing breasts, the diameter of a shilling, a half-penny, and finally a half crown. “W-what’s happening to me?” asked Patty in horror. “AH OOOHHH!” Patty shuddered, gasping for breath.



“Patty!” Jane swam through the water until she could stand, her own chest aching as they expanded. Jane waded out of the water, hefting her heavy breasts. Her nipples felt like they were about to burst. They were tingling with sensitivity, the throbbing sending waves of arousal straight to her quim. “OHGOD!” The large orgasm taking her by surprise.



Later, sitting on the porphyry floor of the cavern, the two women huddled by the fire.

“God save Ireland,” muttered Patty finally after many minutes of silence.



“What Patricia?”



“I don’t hate them,” she said, standing and stretching, staring down at her breasts. Her green eyes seemed brighter to Jane.



Jane chuckled. “Good, because I fear they’re permanent.” Patty looked at her and Jane told her about the time she fell in the Well of Urdr, treading water until her father tossed a rope down to her. “I fear this might be another of the three wells from the sagas.”



Dressed and bundled, the two women looked out the entrance of the cave at the snow covered wasteland. “I fear our quest for the Cauldron of Oldrorir is a bust.”



“Bust being a poor choice of words, Lady Jane,” grumbled Patty, her new breasts straining at her clothing.



Jane had been following rumors of a local legend that a community of dwarves lived in these mountains and they were the keepers of the fabled mead of poetry. Many of the locals still believed these stories and some swore the thunder echoing through the mountains was caused by battling Jotuns.



Jane trudged around the crag hiding the cavern entrance, gazing up at the giant ash mounting the crag. Its roots had reached through the stone and drank from the green pool. There’d been a giant ash above the Well of Urdr too. She climbed up the side, removing a glove and reaching out for the tree. Her hand touched the side of the tree just as a burst of insight flashed through her brain.



A ghostly image of a mounted man was approaching, the horse was tired, head drooping. The spectral image passed through Patty, who was gazing up at Jane with concern.



“HO! HO! HO! A figure moved from the entrance to the cave, standing. It was a giant! He stood, gazing at the approaching man through green eyes. His beard was tinged with green. He was huge, maybe nine feet tall and bulging with muscles.

“Greetings King Odin.”



The warrior looked up, removing his helmet. His eyes were also green, beard black, but graying. “Mimir the Jotun,” he bellowed. “I would drink from your well.”



The giant stooped, leading the man into the cave. “To drink of the well, requires a sacrifice,” said the giant.



“Sacrifice?” asked Odin, leaning his spear against the cavern wall.



“If you would gain knowledge of the past and future, you must sacrifice… an eye.”



Odin was momentarily taken aback. He steadied himself. “Urdr’s well required no sacrifice?”



“This is not Urdr’s well. Remove your clothing.”



Odin stripped off his mail. His physique was scarred, but impressive and muscular, a thick heavy cock flopping from thigh to thigh as he waded into the water nude but for a dagger in his hand. He reached up, hesitating only a moment before plunging the dagger into his eye. He cried out in pain, gritting his teeth and turning an angry lone eyed gaze on the giant.



“Drink Odin One-Eye,” said Mimir. The giant bowed his head at the king, turned and left the cave.



Odin waded into the water, stumbling and kneeling down. He bent his head, drinking deep of the green water. Odin swallowed and rose, water dripping off his now erect cock. He waded out of the water, chest swelling, biceps growing. The scars crisscrossing his chest and back, disappeared, leaving but one wound on his body, his newly missing eye. His cock grew with his body, sticking out a foot from his crotch, looking more like it belonged on the stallion he’d rode in on then on a man. Odin threw back his head and bellowed just as his huge cock spewed a stallion’s worth of seed upon the cavern floor.



“HA! HA! HA!” The Jotun threw his head back, laughing when Odin emerged from the cavern.



“What’s so funny, Jotun?”



“The well required no sacrifice, Odin One-Eye. All you needed to do was drin…

URK!” The giant gurgled reaching up at the tear in his throat as Odin twisted the tip of the spear pulling it back. Blood spurted out through the giant’s fingers as he tried to stop his life from flowing out. Mimir collapsed on his knees before falling forwards on his face.



Odin removed an axe from his belt and took to hacking through the giant’s thick bull neck. He grabbed Mimir’s beard, dragging it back into the cavern. “Ha ha, now you have wisdom, but you also have knowledge of your own death, King Odin,” rasped the giant’s head.



“Maybe so, giant.” Odin kicked the head, It rolled down the slope into the green water. “But now I also have knowledge that I will be a god.”



Eons passed, the flesh withering off the giant’s head, his skull calcifying, turning into the rock whose smooth surface Patty had slid off of to splash into the water. Odin mounted his tired horse, gazing up at the ash, at Jane. The ash tree wasn’t a tree, it was a root! The tree, Yggdrasil, strode over all of Northern Europe, another root reached the earth at the Well of Urdr, a third root fell further North to the third well.

Jane’s eyes followed Odin as he turned his horse towards the third and final well, Hvelgimir.”



“Jane?” called Patty morphing into Doctor Smith.





**********



Jane recalled Genesis 6:4.



There were giants in the earth in those days, and also after that when the sons of god went to the daughters of men, and they bore children to them. They were the heroes of old, men of reknown.



“Besides doc,” said Jane, “I have no desire to be a god.” She moaned as Smith continued tugging on Jane’s swollen nipples until a little jet of milk shot from Lisa pulled her hands back, looking at the white fluid on her fingers. “You’re lactating! Are you with child?”



“No. It’s the “Gift of Hathor,” the result of my interaction with another artifact.”

“The COCK of Osiris?”



“Yes,” said Jane, gazing down at her throbbing nipples as Lisa Smith returned her fingers to them. Professor Powell must have told Dr. Smith everything he knew about Vril. Jane wasn’t sure she liked that, but the United States was Britain’s closest ally in this war after all. The two countries had begun working closely together on the subject of Vril when they became aware the Nazi’s had their own Vril Society, the Vril Gesellschaft or sometimes the, Wahrheitsgesellschaft, The Society for Truth.



Doctor Smith appeared mesmerized by Jane’s breasts. “How often do they leak?”



Jane grinned wryly. “Only when I become aroused.”



Lisa nodded. “I see. They leak when you’re arous…” She suddenly jerked her hands back, also taking a step away from Jane. “I’m no sapphist, Major.”



“Nor was I, doc. At least until the COCK changed me. Now, I do feel attracted to certain women.”



Smith’s eyes widened. “And you’re attracted to me?”



“Yes. You’re quite lovely.”



Lisa flushed, her face twisting in a mask of confusion and anger. “Thank you, but like I said, I’m no dyke.”



“You feel nothing?” Jane nodded her head down to Dr. Smith’s chest.



Lisa looked down; her own nipples were hard enough they were poking through her top. She squirmed uncomfortably, aware that she was aroused. “But I’ve never… I…”



“Another side effect I’m afraid,” consoled Jane. “An increase in my sexual attractiveness to both men and women as well as my sexual appetite.”



Lisa gulped. “Could you put your top back on?” Her eyes were fixated on Jane’s nipples up until Jane covered them. “Any other side effects?” she asked, finally able to take her eyes off Jane’s breasts.



“Well, they ejaculate milk when I orgasm and the milk appears to have both nutritional and healing properties.”



“Incredible,” said Lisa, shaking her head in disbelief. “And Hathor was the…”

“Cow-headed goddess,” said Jane. “The goddess of love, sexuality, and maternal care.”



“I guess you should be grateful you didn’t grow four teats,” said Lisa with such a straight face Jane couldn’t tell if she were serious or joking. There was a chuckle from outside their curtain.



Jane pulled the curtain back. Langston Cain suddenly turned his head away, quickly moving his airmen’s cap to cover his crotch. Burke was sitting on a bench with his arms crossed, smirking at her. Bullock was holding his palm over his eyes. Jane furrowed her brows, the side of her mouth curling up. Lisa had placed the light right behind the two women giving the three airmen a rather sexy shadow play. “How much longer until we land?” she asked, directing her question at Burke.



“Soon,” he responded. “I can see Havana now.”



Jane stepped out and took a seat beside Burke. She could see the Cuban capitol through the waist gun window. The Marauder turned slightly, reducing airspeed, the front of the plane angling down. Twenty-five minutes later, Crowe was turning it off the runway.





**********



Jane tried to sleep, her eyes were closed, but she was hot and Lisa was reading some of Challenger’s letters to Jane’s father. Jane peaked through her lids several times, catching Lisa staring at her. Jane was laying on her blanket in just her bullet bra and panties, her skin was shiny with sweat. Most of the men had opted to sleep under the plane where a nice breeze was blowing in off the Gulf. Finally, Lisa turned the lamp off and slid into her sleeping bag.



Jane was horny. Her nipples refused to go down and they were throbbing so much they ached. They ached even more as she pictured Lisa’s hands caressing them, tugging on her hard nipples. Jane moaned, wishing she had taken the blonde woman in her arms and kissed her while the three black men watched their shadows on the curtain. That would give them something they’d never forget.



Lisa snored gently. Jane opened her eyes. She sat up and leaned over, peaking through the curtain. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the half-naked black man. He was young and fit, nude but for army shorts and dog tags. Moonlight coming through the top turret gun bubble made his sweaty black skin shine. It was young Mr. Bullock. He

was the lone airman sleeping in the plane. Maybe he had gallantly offered to guard the women?



Jane stared at the 19-year-old, sleeping on the bench. His chest was gently rising and falling. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, sighing with relief when her nipples were no longer scraping against the cotton. She leaned forward and slipped through the curtain.



Bullock jumped when Jane placed her palm over his mouth. He opened his eyes, brows furrowing when he saw her holding her finger over her lips, shushing him. His eyes opened wide as she sat up on her knees and her bare breasts came into view. His pupils flickered back and forth from her face to her breasts. She shushed him again, whispering, “Keep quiet.” He nodded.



Jane leaned over and kissed him, placing her hand on his stomach. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, playing with his tongue. Her hand slid down under the hem of his shorts, fingers brushing the tip of his hard penis, her hand slid down, grasping his swollen organ. It was much, but then she hadn’t been expecting much. Jimmy Bullock had a perfectly average six-inch penis.



Bullock jumped again, struggling. Jane pulled her lips off his, looking down at him.

“Ma’am, I’m s-saving myself for ma girl.”



Jane smiled. She’d pulled his penis out of his shorts. She glanced down at it. “You have a lovely prick, Jimmy.” True, it wasn’t a huge Vril enhanced cock, but it was nicely shaped, circumcised, and rock hard. Jane moved down a little, leaning over and kissing his stomach, her tongue licking into his navel while her hand slowly wanked his prick. He sucked his stomach in and groaned. “How about a blowsie then?” she asked. “That way you can stay faithful to your girl.” She held his penis up with her fingers and let her tongue slide up his shaft and twirl around his head. “What do you say?”



“I g-guess that would be okay.” Bullock instantly moaned when her lips engulfed his bell end. His eyes flickered over to the image of a smiling Jane Stalwart sitting on the bomb and he wondered if this were all a dream.



Jane’s mouth engulfed his penis. She tightened her lips around it, kissing down to his pubes and sucking back up to the head. Bullock’s throat was making sounds somewhere between a moan and a whimper. His hand came up and grabbed her shoulder, his grip tightening. Jane paused, her lips kissing his urethra, holding his prick up. His grip on her shoulder relaxed and she swallowed his penis back down her

throat. She reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling his hand off her shoulder and moving it down to her breast. He caressed it at first, before gently kneading her soft flesh, his fingers finding her throbbing nipple which was leaking profusely. She bobbed her head slowly, his prick trembling in her mouth. Jimmy’s hips were lifting up off the bench. She sucked his dick faster, instinctively pulling up exactly so that his semen would shoot across her tongue so that she could taste him. His first wad struck the back of her throat, the second left a pool on her tongue. She swallowed half his penis, sucking back up and draining the last of his seed. He’d cum an impressive amount and she wondered when was the last time he’d wanked or even if he’d ever jerked it off.



She gave his prick one last kiss on the head. “Happy birthday,” she whispered. He didn’t answer, he seemed like he was dazed. “Do you have a pen?”



“What?” he asked, confused. “Uh, in my pants.”



His pants were under the bench. Jane stayed on her knees, reaching into his pocket and finding a pen. She raised herself up and leaned over him, her prodigious breasts hanging over his face. Bullock kissed them, quickly finding a nipple. It was her turn to moan when he sucked her long nipple in between his lips. Her arousal grew as she signed her name at the bottom of her pinup. She signed it Lady Jane, turning both a’s into hearts. He groaned sucking her nipple, his noises turning more lustful and manly.



Jane pulled back, her wet teat popping up out of his mouth. His prick was hard again.

“Maybe we could…” he started suggesting.



Jane forced herself up. “What’s your girl’s name?”



“Dorothy,” said Jimmy, lips curling up in a smile as he thought of his girl back home.



“She’s a lucky girl, Mr. Bullock.” She gave a longing glance down at his young black prick before sighing and looking away. She stared out the side port, frowning as she saw a shadowy figure creeping away from the plane towards the nearest hanger.



What the hell? She thought. Jane slipped back into the curtain, grabbing her bra and uniform. Her work clothes were still packed away and would take too long to retrieve.



A few minutes later, Jane jumped through the open Bombay doors, crouching as she fell softly to her feet. The shadow was just disappearing around a hanger. There were five forms sleeping under the plane and with Bullock inside the aircraft, that meant

one of the airmen was missing. She could move faster on her bare feet then with her heeled brown shoes. She kicked her shoes off, picked them up and began running.

She slowed when she reached the hanger, pausing to peak around the corner. The man was climbing over the chain link fence surrounding the airport. He jumped down to the other side and took off into the city.