Jane Stalwart and The Lost World 1

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 with 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 were an officer and a woman. The woman was dressed as a civilian in a blue dress, belted at the waist. She held a 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 black tresses which showed no signs of being windswept as she placed her cap on her head. The General watched her approaching, standing at attention and saluting him. “General Harris, sir.”

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Stalwart,” he replied, looking at her with a strange combination of lust and disapproval.

“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 may not have a few weeks, General,” replied Jane.

“No one asked my opinion,” said the blonde, speaking 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 my country, of course.”

Jane nodded. “If 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. Be prepared for any contingencies, Doctor.”

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 was hot and sweating. He was a 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 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 as I slowly head towards extinction.”

“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, thought Jane. He was a dark African black, but Jane could see the color visibly draining from his face. He was staring directly at her, not even taking a sneak peek 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 than 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 of 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 surprise, leafing through it. The airmen looked at each other.

“Lt. Julius Calhoun, Ma’am,” said Calhoun, saluting Jane. “Nose gunner and bombardier, but since you’re not going to need a nose gunner and we only have a few bombs onboard, 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, and Leroy Burke, he’s our groups dad, and you’ve already had the pleasure of embarrassing Mr. Bullock.”

“All shucks, I wasn’t that embarrassed,” said Jimmy 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 a full payload of 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.”

“Why, for the dinosaurs, of course, Mr. Cain,” said Jane.

**********

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 White’s 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, one 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 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 in London, 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 of 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 northeast 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 doctorates are in geology and chemistry. 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 powerful artifacts by ancient cultures. It can heal wounds, cure illnesses, or destroy cities. It exists in 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, and possibly 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 and nervous glances between some of the men. “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, and 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 except for 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 a minimum of two drops of liquid Vril. Doctor Smith’s mentor had devised a lead-based container that should hold the raw Vril without it being warped by our minds.”

 

“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 find a way off the plateau and come down the Amazon to meet you there. It will be difficult, but I’ll manage. 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, and 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 a full complement of bombs.” There were only three bombs on the rack. “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 ponderous 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 Urdr.”

 

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

 

“You’re well informed.”

 

Lisa smirked. “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 had 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 bathe 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 state's foremost expert on Vril. I even 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 remain 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 dome-shaped rock and into the pool. Jane playfully splashed her when Patty’s 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 and rounder, her farthing-sized areolae spreading out with her growing breasts becoming 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 it 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 took her by surprise.

 

Later, sitting on the porphyry floor of the cavern, the two women huddled by the fire. “God save Ireland,” muttered Patty 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 than normal.

 

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 ancient ash tree 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 of the cave, slowly standing to an immense height. 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 of Jotunheim,” 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. 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, the vacant eye socket. 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 than 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 in seven mighty blasts.

 

“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 forward 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 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 know that I will be a god.”

 

Eons passed, the flesh rotting off the giant’s head, his skull calcifying, turning into the skull-shaped rock whose smooth surface Patty had slid off 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, and 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 renown.

 

“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 Nazis 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 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 was 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 head down, shielding his eyes from her. 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 peeked 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. The 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 wasn’t 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 he were dreaming.

 

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 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 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 military 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. Five forms were 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 than 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.

 

Jane took off in pursuit, leaping halfway to the top of the fence, her toes curling into the wires as she tossed her shoes to the other side. She pulled herself up, vaulting over the fence and landing on her feet. The airman was strolling onto a busy street, loud with music and honking cars. Jane followed, pausing to pull her shoes back on, she walked around the building and onto the street.

 

“Following me?” asked Crowe.

 

Jane stopped in her tracks. Jim Crowe was leaning against the brick wall beside a store window, lighting up a cigarette from a pack of Lucky Strikes. “I saw you sneaking off, Crowe.”

 

“I wouldn’t call it sneaking. Didn’t want to wake the boys.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “You think I’m a spy?”

 

“I think that less than a few hours ago, I was giving you top-secret information only to catch you sneaking off in the middle of the night. What are you up to?”

 

“Well, if you want to know, Major, keep following me.”

 

**********

 

“Two Cervezas, please,” said Jim, sitting on a bar stool.

 

“Dos El Presidentes, por favor,” said Jane, taking the seat beside him.

 

“Si Senorita,” said the bartender, smiling happily as he took in Jane’s charms.

 

“When one is in Cuba, Crowe, one drinks rum.”

 

Crowe chortled, sliding one of his beers over to Jane while she waited for her drink. “Call me, Jim.”

 

“Jane,” she responded. “I’ve never been one for formalities, military, or social status.” She returned the favor, sliding him one of her rum drinks.”

 

“It’s good, he said, taking a long sip. “I like this place.” He looked around. Jane nodded in agreement. It was a corner bar, some tables, and a local hangout, not one of the big clubs like the Tropicana that the rich and famous frequented. It had a grill and kitchen behind the bar. “You don’t see crowds like this back in the States. I couldn’t even sit at a bar with a woman like you.”

 

Jane understood. The patrons were mostly men, but what stood out to an American negro was the mixed crowd. Cubans came in many colors and they were all represented here. A white man and a black man were playing dominoes at one table. A brown-skinned Cuban was sitting on a stool strumming a guitar. One of three women in the bar other than Jane, appeared mixed race and was leaning close to another black man, their foreheads almost touching as they laughed together. “I’ve always preferred the local establishments wherever I travel. Buy you dinner?”

 

“Uh, sure,” said Jim, surprised. “I don’t know Cuban food.”

 

“I’ll order for you.” Jane read the menu behind the bar. She turned to the bartender. “An arroz con pollo por mi amigo y frijoles negros para mi.”

 

“Si senorita,” said the bartender turning and yelling her order at the cook.

 

Jane turned to Jim while he was taking a sip of her rum drink. “I’m always hungry for negros.” Jim choked on his drink. “Y dos mas, el presidentes,” she said, ordering two more drinks.

 

They sat and sipped their drinks while listening to the Latin guitarist. The cook passed their meals over to the bartender and soon they were digging into their dinners.

 

“Delicious,” said Jim, sitting back. He took out another Lucky Strike. “Cigarette?”

 

Jane was finishing her black beans. She shook her head, turning her attention back on the bartender. “Puedo ver su seleccion de puros?”

 

“Si, si,” said the bartender. He pulled out a cigar box and held it open for Jane.

 

She selected two. “Dos Cabanas,” she said, winking at the barkeep.

 

He clipped it for her and held out a lighter while she held it in her mouth, puffing in. “En la casa, encantadora senorita.”

 

“Gracias,” she said with a wink. She proffered the other cigar to Jim. He took it in his mouth and she leaned in touching her lit end to his cigar.

 

He inhaled, lighting his cigar. He closed his eyes taking in the aroma and taste a moment. “Let me guess, when one is in Cuba, one smokes cigars.”

 

“Now you’re getting it, handsome,” she said with a wink. Jane sat back and blew a smoke ring.

 

“And here I took you for a stuffy Brit,” said Jim. Her eyes were closed enjoying the flavor of the Cabana cigar. Jim took the chance to glance down at her bare legs. One was crossed over the other, making her already short skirt run well up her thigh. His eyes moved up her body, the buttons on her top straining to contain her breasts. His eyes moved up to her face to find she was staring at him, one eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” he apologized.

 

“Don’t be,” she said, reaching out and taking a sip of her rum drink before chasing it with a swig of beer. “They don’t make uniforms my size.” Jane reached down and took his hand. She placed it on her bare knee. “Just look how short this skirt is.”

 

Jim gulped. His forehead was sweating a little. Finally, his hand slid up her leg to the hem of her skirt. “Yes, v-very short,” he said, nervously, staring at his hand. He looked up at her, letting his hand slide up under her skirt, the tips of his fingers brushing the bottoms of her knickers.

 

“What are you thinking right now, flyboy?” she asked, the tip of her tongue peeking out to lick her upper lip.

 

“What I’m thinking would get me killed back home,” he answered, tightening his grip on her thigh and caressing up and down. He was gaining confidence.

 

“Good thing you’re not back home,” she said, leaning forward. He looked up, finding her face close to his. She turned her head sideways and kissed him. “Wanna get out of here?”

 

“God yes,” he replied.

 

Jane reached into a pocket on her top and pulled out a fold of American money. “This should cover it,” she told the bartender, tossing some bills on the bar. “Gracias.”

 

“Gracias, senorita.”

 

Jane grabbed the hand on her thigh and held it while she and Jim hurried out of the corner bar. “Where can we go?” he asked.

 

Jane pulled him into the dirty alley behind the bar. He grinned leaning in for a kiss as she rested her back against the brick wall, throwing her arms around his neck. There was no hesitation from him this time, he kissed her hungrily, their tongues dueling. He slid his hands down her sides not sure how far he could go with her, but then her hands were sliding down his chest and unbuckling his belt. He moved his hands over to her breasts, squeezing them together, and caressing on the sides. He was going for the buttons on her top when her breasts slid down out of his hands. Jim was disappointed, but Jane had only slid down the wall to squat before him as she reached into his shorts to pull out his Johnson. “Nice,” she said, looking up at him with his erect cock sticking out above her face. It was perfectly straight, rocket-shaped. His penis was on the large side, pushing eight inches and nicely thick. It impressed most women. Her lips pursed, kissing the head before her tongue twirled around his knob.

 

“Sweet Jesus,” groaned Jim, leaning his arms against the wall. She was looking up at him with her lips engulfing the head of his dick. Her hands were unbuttoning the blouse of her uniform. Jim could already feel the cum churning in his nuts it had been a nice bit of time for him. Jane was bobbing her head sucking his shaft deeper in her mouth, the head pushing down her throat. He wanted to thrust forward, shoving his cock deep, but he didn’t want to choke her. Not that he would have. Jane had her hands on his hips, pulling his cock into her mouth until she was swallowing his whole shaft. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” he said again, feeling his cock swelling and hardening as his orgasm started approaching.

 

Jane pushed back on his hips, the head of his cock springing up out of her mouth, dark black, wet, and shiny from the light of a street lamp out on the street. “Don’t tell me this is your first time,” said Jane, kissing and licking around the head of his cock.

 

“No ma’am,” he groaned. He’d never seen his Johnson look so big. In its swollen state it did look eight inches long. “Just that no one’s ever shown him that much enthusiasm before.”

 

Jane pushed herself up the wall, leaving her top and bra on the ground. “Let’s give him a moment to calm down.”

 

“These aren’t helping it calm down,” said Jim, reaching out for her bare breasts. They were cartoonishly perfect, huge, milky white, and capped by the longest pink nipples he’d ever seen. Her nipples appeared wet and glistened as much as his cock was.

 

Jane stepped out of her underwear, pulling her skirt up around her waist. She grabbed Jim’s hips and pulled him into her. Jim pushed Jane against the wall, kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. His cock slid along her slit, she raised her hips and the head pushed inside her. They both moaned. Jim braced her against the wall, kissing as he worked his cock in and out. “Don’t worry, I’ll pull out,” he muttered.

 

“Don’t you dare,” she replied. “Plant your seed deep.”

 

Jim growled, fucking her faster at the thought of seeding a white woman. He stepped back slightly, holding her ass. Jane’s back and shoulders were braced against the wall with her body stretched out between them. Jim leaned down, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth eliciting a loud moan from Jane. She was raising her crotch into each thrust of his cock. “Lordy, your body’s amazing.”

 

“And my amazing body’s lovin’ that black cock right now. Fuck me Jim. Give me that black cock.”

 

“Sweet Jesus,” cried Jim. “Gonna cum.”

 

“Me too. Keep fucking me. Suck my tits.”

 

Jim was sweating trying to hold off, wanting the moment to last, but his balls were churning. He leaned down, mouth finding one of Jane’s long pink nipples. She moaned as he sucked it between his lips. He buried his cock, pumping his first burst of semen into the gorgeous Brit. Jim was worried he’d ejaculated too soon, but his orgasm triggered Jane’s. Her pussy clamped down around his shaft, rippling inwards and coaxing out three more spurts of semen from his cock. Just as his cock was jerking its first jet of semen, the nipple in his mouth twitched, shooting milk across his tongue. Jim was shocked at first almost releasing her nipple, but then his taste buds registered how delicious it was. His lips clamped down, sucking on her nipple which continued squirting milk into his mouth with each jerk of his cock. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out little geysers of milk squirting out of her other nipple.

 

“Wow!” said Jim, lifting his mouth off her nipple and licking his upper lip. He walked her back to the wall, not quite wanting to remove his cock just yet. When her back was against the wall, he did slowly remove his spent dick and Jane unwrapped her legs from his waist until she was standing.

 

“I needed that,” said Jane, pulling her skirt down.

 

“Me too,” he sighed, tucking his penis away. “Question?” he asked, staring at her nipples as she adjusted her bra over her breasts.

 

“The milk?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded. “Long story, I’ll tell it to you some other time.” She patted his back.

 

“Sure,” he replied with a cocksure grin. “Maybe you can tell me the next time we get together?”

 

Jane laughed. “Certainly.”

 

Jim gave her a wink. Make sure the woman was satisfied and they’d always come back for more. “Somewhere nice, with a bed and no rush,” he added.

 

“It’s a date,” said Jane.

 

Jim offered her an arm and she took it as they headed back towards the airport. Jim cocked his head. “That’s strange…” Jim glanced at her. “I’m not the least bit drunk.”

 

Now it was Jane’s turn to give him a wink. “Side effect of my milk. Can’t have you flying with a hangover. You’ll sleep well tonight too.”

 

“Hmph! Now I really want to hear that story.”

 

They disentangled as they approached the bomber. Jim stopped long enough to take Jane in his arms, bending her back and giving her a long passionate kiss. Jane wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

 

The crew was fast asleep. Jim gave her a pat on her ass before slipping into his empty sleeping bag under the plane. Jane climbed back inside through the bomb doors. Bullock was sprawled out sleeping, a smile on his face. Jane slipped through the privacy curtain and crawled into her sleeping back beside Lisa.

 

**********

 

Jane opened her eyes just before dawn. Jim was outside clapping his hands. “Rise and shine, boys. Let’s get this bird in the air.” Jane climbed out of her sleeping bag and dressed. This time she wore more practical working clothes, many-pocketed khaki pants, and a sleeveless blouse. She tightened a belt around her waist and slipped a survival knife into its sheath. The only thing missing from her English explorer look was a pith helmet.

 

One by one, the grumbling negro crew started coming aboard. Jim winked at her as he headed to the cockpit. “Good morning, Major,” he said. “Doctor Smith.”

 

“You’re quite chipper this morning, Captain,” said Jane with a smile.

 

“I had a very satisfying night’s sleep, ma’am.” Jim Crowe nodded at her and whistled as he entered his cockpit. Archer followed him climbing into the co-pilot’s seat. Chester Burton was already going over his maps in the navigator’s seat. His camera was hanging off a peg above his desk.

 

The crew went through their flight checks and finally, Crowe announced. “Prepare for takeoff.” The motors revved up, propellers spinning, the plane turned and began taxing down the runway. Soon they were in the air and heading towards Venezuela.

 

“This is unbelievable,” said Lisa, reading Challenger’s secret journal.

 

Jane looked up from her sketchbook. The image of the dashing Captain Jim Crowe filled the page. “I presume, you’re at the part where Challenger swears his penis grew to fourteen inches?”

 

Lisa just nodded. “All their penises doubled in size and Paula White’s breasts got bigger. How is this possible?”

 

Jane flipped to the next page and started sketching the lovely blonde’s face. “You tell me.”

 

Lisa Smith looked up from the journal. “Ambient Vril radiation?”

 

“More proof there’s Vril in the lost world.”

 

“It says in his journal that all the ape-men and Indios they encountered had oversized breasts and genitalia and that he left it out of his official report to avoid scandal. He heard of a tribe of ape-men that worshipped glowing rocks in the Northeast, but never encountered them. You knew Challenger?”

 

Jane smiled. “A domineering, hot-tempered giant. George had the largest head I’ve ever seen on a man and so hairy he could have fit in with one of the ape-men he claims to have encountered in Maple White Land. Eccentric, but he also had one of the finest minds I’ve ever encountered. I’ve often wondered if his size and genius were a result of his encounters with a Vril artifact, but I never got to ask him. Knowing how dangerous Vril can be would also explain him leaving it out of the official record.”

 

A few hours later, the plane landed in Caracas for a quick refuel. Jane, Lisa, and the rest of the crew jumped out to stretch their legs while some of the crew did some safety checks. A short time later, they were in the air and flying over the Venezuelan jungle. Jane squeezed in beside the navigator so she could stare out the cockpit window.

 

Jim pulled back on the steering column. “I’m going to gain some altitude to give us a wider field of view.” Unfortunately, this took the plane into dense cloud cover and reduced visibility.

 

“Head in that direction,” said Jane, pointing Southeast.

 

Jim frowned. In the distance, he could see a dense cloud cover at a lower level than they were flying. “Taking her down.” He dropped back down through the clouds.

“Would you look at that?” he said, staring ahead. “It’s like a dense fog bank just over the jungle.”

 

“Pull up,” said Jane, squeezing his shoulder. “Pull up now.”

 

“What?” Jim sat up straight.

 

“Those aren’t clouds. Those are cliffs!”

 

“Hang on,” yelled Jim, Pulling back on the steering wheel. The plane pulled up just in time, flying vertically just feet from the basalt cliffs.

 

Lisa screamed. The airmen were all belted in, but she’d been sitting on her sleeping bag still reading the journal. She fell right through the privacy curtain, failing towards the tail of the plane.

 

Burke skillfully reached out, catching Dr. Smith in one powerful arm before she could fall too far. “Gotcha, doc,” he grunted, stopping her descent.

 

“Get your black arms off me,” complained Lisa, the moment the plane leveled back off. She said it loud enough the entire crew heard.

 

Burke relaxed his arm. “Beggin your pardon, ma’am.”

 

“Let her fall next time,” grunted Langston Cain receiving a glower from Lisa.

 

“Battle stations,” said Crowe’s voice over the intercom.

 

The men scrambled towards their guns. Calhoun came up behind Jane. He couldn’t squeeze into the nose gun with the pilot seated. All he could do was stare out the cockpit window. “What the fuck are those things? Dinosaurs?”

 

“Flying lizards,” said Jane, calmly.

 

Bullock was standing up in the top gun pod. His eyes were open, staring in wonder at the flock of flying lizards. They were scattering and flying off in all directions. “I think they’re dimorphodons,” he yelled, squatting.

 

“I believe you are correct, Mr. Bullock,” yelled Jane.

 

“I don’t know what the really big ones are?” yelled Bullock, back.

 

“Big ones?” asked Jim, just as giant claws snatched a dimorphodon from right in front of the cockpit.

 

“That,” said Jane, “is a big pterosaur.” More pterosaurs appeared, one flying towards the B26, claws outstretched. The claws scraped along the top of the plane; Bullock opened fire with the .50 cal. She couldn’t see if he shot it, but the smaller flying lizards suddenly started swarming around the plane. “I’m not sure painting the tail red was such a good idea,” she muttered, noticing the dimorphodons had bright red tails.

 

“Maybe not,” agreed Jim, trying to fly the plane through the least crowded bit of airspace.

 

The dimorphodons were only about three feet long, with maybe a five-foot wingspan. The giant pterosaurs were much bigger. Many had over a 30-foot wingspan. The body of the creature was mostly neck. The head and neck were at least 50% of the creature’s length.

 

Jane stepped back into the plane, looking out the widows at the dimorphodons. Lisa was strapped in now, watching the flying lizards. “They’re lining up behind us like geese,” said Dr. Smith, fascinated.

 

Jane turned back towards the cockpit. Burton was snapping a picture out the window, trying to capture the flying dinosaurs. There was another burst of machine gun fire. Bullets ripped through one of the giant pterosaurs just as it had grabbed one of the dimorphodons. The creature released his catch, the dimorphodon falling straight into the left engine. Smoke began pouring from the engine just as it sputtered and died. The bullet-riddled pterosaur fell to, hitting the plane’s wing right on top of the engine. As the flying lizard slid off the wing, it took most of the propellor with it.

 

“Fuck,” grunted Jim. The B-26 began gliding, luckily there were some powerful updrafts. “Double fuck,” said Jim.

 

“What?” asked Jane, leaning in.

 

“There’s no place to land and we got a cliff coming up fast.” Jim turned back to the intercom. “We need to lighten the load. Throw anything, we don’t need out the bomb doors.” The men opened the bomb bay, looking for anything they could throw out.

 

“We going to make it?” asked Jane.

 

“I don’t know, Major,” said Jim. “I don’t know. If we do make it over, then we have to worry about finding a place I can put this bird down. I suggest you go to plan B.” Jim looked up at her sadly.

 

“What?”

 

“You need to bail out.”

 

“I can’t leave…” Jane paused, realizing he was right. The mission was of utmost importance.

 

“Hurry Jane,” he said, the cliff rapidly approaching.

 

“You can’t leave me,” said Lisa anxiously as Jane calmly strolled in, grabbing a parachute.

 

“Sorry Doctor Smith,” she answered unemotionally. “You’ll be safer with the plane.”

 

“If he can land it,” cried Lisa, desperately.

 

“Captain Crowe has my total respect,” said Jane, grabbing a knapsack. Dr. Smith’s lead containers were in there, along with matches, a compass, a canteen, an Enfield no2 revolver, and other supplies. She hooked it onto her belt. “Ready Captain.”

 

“We’ll try to leave sign of where we are near the central lake,” yelled Jim. He turned in his seat and stared at her, sadly. “Good luck, Major.” Jim saluted her.

 

“Captain.” Jane returned the salute. She was still saluting when she took a step back, disappearing through the bomb bay doors.

 

**********

 

Jane stared up at the plane, smoke still pouring from the one engine. The thermal updraft was stronger than expected and she had hopes Jim might pull this off. The dimorphodons flew in a V-shaped formation right behind the plane. She watched them fly off, items still falling out the bomb bay as the crew of the marauder desperately tried to clear the approaching mountain.

 

A giant shape flew over the plane, spotting her, the pterosaur began a dive straight toward her. Jane didn’t panic. Her hands found her revolver, pulled it out, and calmly began shooting towards the flying lizard. It closed rapidly on her, its foot-long beak opened hungrily as it neared her, toothless, but still razor sharp.

 

Bullets riddled the beast as the bomber’s .30 tail gun opened up on it. Jane made a mental note to thank Lt. Burke the next time she saw him. Unfortunately, the dead pterosaur was still coming, slamming into her and sending her spinning out of control.

 

Jane whipped around, rapidly growing dizzy. She saw the marauder aiming right for the cliff. The next time she spun around, the B-26 had gained altitude. She spun around again, hopeful for the crew of the Blackbird as the bomber looked like it was going to make it.

KABOOM!

 

The explosion rattled her eardrums. She spun around again, seeing flames and smoke on top of the mountain. The dimorphodons were gliding over the cliff top and out of sight still in formation. A few pterosaurs were still in pursuit.

 

Jane’s brain barely registered the loss of the black airmen. The pterosaur had hit her hard and combined with the spinning, she was struggling and failing to keep from passing out. She reached for the cord, yanking it, the parachute deploying and jerking her back up.

 

Jane opened her eyes, taking in the breathtaking vista before her. She’d jumped out of the plane over rocky badlands, but now she was slowly falling over a lush green jungle. She could make out the large central lake in the distance. She was probably East of it, but had lost all sense of direction since bailing out of the bomber. Large animals, sauropods, were moving by the lake, feeding on vegetation, some walking on the shore, others wading in the water so that she could see only a hump and the giant necks. A small herd of ceratopsians wandered along the shore, serpentine heads rising out of the water to watch them. Smaller pterosaurs glided over the water, scooping fish up in their beaks.

 

Jane stared in wonder as she rapidly closed on the jungle canopy. She was coming down fast, nowhere to steer the parachute. She stared down at the treetops looking for a place to land, eyes widening in horror as she saw the thorn-covered vines crisscrossing the tops of the trees. The thorns were as big as her head, sharp pointy tips glistening with dew.

 

The parachute came down on the thorns, razor-sharp edges tearing into her body as she crashed through the trees. Her parachute caught, jerking her back, her head hitting a branch, and then there was only…

 

Darkness.

Next: Chapter 2: Castaways of the Forsaken Jungle

 

 

Chapter 1 Notes:

1) This story is in the style of the old pulp serials and as such will contain many tropes found in pulp magazines.

2) The Martin B-26A Marauder bomber was nicknamed the "Widowmaker" as it had airspeed issues with landings and takeoffs that caused a lot of crashes. This problem was solved with proper training.

3) The famous Tuskegee airmen are mostly known for piloting fighters and serving as bomber escorts. The 477th Bombardment group trained with B-25 Mitchell bombers, but never served in combat. My use of a B-26A suggests that B-25's and a white flight crew were too valuable to risk on a mission General Harris believes to be a waste of time and resources.

4) Nylon hose came on the market in May of 1940 and sold 750,000 pairs the first day. Silk (imported from Japan), Rayon, and cotton stockings were also worn, but less popular. The materials were in heavy demand during the war for use as parachutes, gun bags, and more. The government commandeered the supply of silk in 1941 and Dupont’s supply of nylon in 1942. Women were encouraged to donate all their torn silk or nylon hose for the war effort, hence Jane’s tossing her torn stockings at General Harris. The thought of going without stockings was unheard of to most women and many resorted to using eyebrow pencils to paint fake lines down the backs of their legs as Jane observes on Lisa Smith when she walks away.

5) The Lost World is from the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's novel written in 1912. There have been many movie and TV adaptions of the novel. Challenger, Malone, Summerlee, and others are all characters from the novel. Paula White is a character from the 1925 silent film version of the Lost World.

6) Vril is taken from the novel, The Coming Race by Edward Bulwer-Lytton, first published anonymously in 1871. It featured an underground race called the Vril-ya that had tapped into the power of Vril. The book was incredibly popular and eventually some people such as Theosophist Madame Blavatsky began to believe Vril was a real magical force. The belief that the Nazis had a vril society was alleged in the 1960 book, The Morning of the Magicians. The authors claimed that the Vril society was an inner circle of the Thule society, a Nazi occult and folk group later reorganized into the Nazi party. One interesting fact about Bulwer-Lytton is that he was responsible for the opening line, “It was a dark and stormy night.”

7) The Wells are taken from Norse mythology. The Well of Mimir is where Odin sacrificed his eye to gain wisdom. Jane’s precognition develops after her dip in the well. In Jane’s vision the pool is glowing green more brightly than it is during her bath suggesting the pool is losing some of its power. It explains why she doesn’t recognize it as a Vril well when she and Patty bath in it.

8) Jane was a rather scrawny teenager with a thin willowy figure and a flat chest. Bathing in the first well at age 15 gave her a fuller womanly figure and breasts in the CC range. The second well grew them to DD/E which is her standard breast size. During the brief period she was affected by the COCK of Osiris and while she is affected by the ambient Vril radiation of the Lost World, they are more of an F-cup.

9) “This isn’t my first rain shower,” is a British expression. I wanted to use “This isn’t my first rodeo,” but apparently that expression came into the vernacular with the movie “Mommie Dearest” in 1981.

10) Military boxer brief underwear was called shorts during the time period.

11) The giant long necked pterosaurs are Quetzalcoatlus. They were not discovered until 1971 so Jane and Bullock were unfamiliar with the species.