Pass It Along/1
The Castle on the Hill
It was a fine and sunny day. Mozart played softly on the stereo of the luxury SUV as Dylan Schultz drove at precisely the posted legal limit down the freeway thanks to cruise control. Even at forty-six years old, he was still in fine shape. Even having smoked for the last twenty-four years; he still looked ten years younger than his actual age. He was tall, six foot four when they measured at his last doctor's appointment (though for some reason throughout his life the measurements come up between six three and six four and a half). He was also terribly skinny; not even breaking two hundred pounds. There was no trace of gray in his golden blond hair that he kept in a stylish short cut; and his sky blue eyes were still clear and youthful. His thin eyebrows, mustache, and goatee came in darker than his hair; and the style gave him a devious, even sinister look that fit him well in his occupation as a stock broker . . . former occupation; as he has been reminding himself lately. Having finally reached billionaire, he was fulfilling a promise to himself and his wife to wrap it up and move to the country.
Divinity Schultz sat quietly beside her husband in the family SUV. She scrolled through social media on her phone trying to ignore the classical music that Dylan insisted that they listen to while he drove. The beautiful mother of six still had a magnificent figure despite the children. She credited her shapely physique to Pilates, yoga, swimming, and her daily 5k run. She was particularly proud of maintaining her DD breasts with only a minimum of sagging despite her forty-two years of age and abundance of exercise. Her mother was a spitfire red-headed lass of Irish decent, and her father was a black man who clawed his way from poverty to wealth and privilege through shear tenacity. The combination made Divinity a force to be reckoned with. Her milk chocolate colored skin was nearly flawless due to good genetics and a healthy dose of modern cosmetological science. She always had the newest and best products to ensure her beauty. Her light brown eyes had a hint of green tracing back to her mother's emerald eyes no doubt. Along with her mother's eyes she had a smaller, cuter version of her father's broad, flat nose; and her grandmother's beauty mark on her left lower cheek as well as her full lips, that Dylan liked to call dick-sucking-lips . . . but never in front of the children.
Ophelia Schultz sat behind her father, listening to the latest song by Beyonce as she swayed slightly to the rhythm. At twenty-one Ophelia was the oldest of the Schultz brood. She was tall, like her father, and stood nearly six feet . . . which isn't the best for a girl. With her father's straight, fine hair (albeit in black), an even smaller, cuter version of her mother's nose, her father's blue eyes and a lighter mocha version of her mother's flawless skin; she still had plenty of suitors despite her uncommon height. She was still a bit jealous of her mother as she sported only C cup breasts; but they were firm and perky. She was currently "taking a year off" from her studies at Harvard Medical School despite her mother and father's protests. She insisted that she needed the time to "find herself" but spent most of that time driving around and spending her father's money with her friends. While highly intelligent, and fiercely competitive and driven when properly motivated; she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be a doctor. She was trying to find something in life she thought that she would enjoy doing, but had so far fallen flat on the search.
Barrett Schultz, Barry to everyone who knows him, sat across the seat from his sister, Ophelia, behind their mother. The young man did not look at all mixed. If one were to see him at a clan rally they would think him to be an Aryan white-supremacist asshole instead of the mixed blood German-Irish-African that he was. Barry was very proud of his African heritage; but because he takes after his father so strongly, he often gets abused if he tries to express that pride. He is tall like his father and sister; standing six foot tall at only fifteen years old. He has his father's blond hair and German nose, his paternal grandfather's pale, almost ghostly, blue eyes, slightly darker skin than his father, and the only trace of his mother being his full lips. He was a star of his high school basketball team, and was not at all happy about changing schools. A bit of a rebel, he wore hoop earrings in either ear; though his parents wouldn't allow him to gauge them. He liked to listen to the hardest gangster rap he could find as well as heavy metal and punk. His hero was Ice Cube; and he had all his albums and all his movies and television appearances . His favorite Ice Cube movie was Ghosts of Mars, but he always said it was Friday.
Brittany sat in the third row of seats behind her sister Ophelia. She sat turned in her seat with her right leg in the seat itself despite the discomfort. She did this purposefully so that her little brother Aaron could clearly see her panties. It wasn't that she wanted to do anything with Aaron; she just like to see how strongly her pubescent body affected him. At thirteen her hormones were starting to kick in pretty strongly. She was quite pretty having predominantly white features with dark brown skin; which is what most white guys look for in a "black" girl. Add to that her grandmother's green eyes and straight hair from her father (in dark brown from her mother); and you have quite a heart-breaker. She was flirty and active; leading to quite a few missteps recently. She had actually run into a flagpole the week before because she was preoccupied looking at a cute guy's ass . . . and she had thought that only happened in TV shows. For that moment she occupied herself by flashing her panties at her little brother and watching him blush as his pants tented.
Aaron did his best to ignore the sight of his sister's panties as he sat across from her on the other side of the car. Even with their little sister between them, he was still mesmerized by the sight of the tight panties and the cause of the camel-toe that he was witnessing. At ten years old, he was only starting to get interested in girls with any seriousness; but his body knew instinctively what he was seeing. Aaron was cursed with beauty. He would have much preferred to be ugly, but he was pretty . . . pretty like a girl. Unlike his father and siblings, he was a bit short for his age. Couple that with his flawlessly soft mocha skin, violet-blue eyes, and delicate features; and you get a boy who had been asked out by more straight guys than he would like to admit. Oddly though . . . he kind of liked the attention the boys gave him, and was a bit worried that what he was feeling made him gay. He knew it was okay to be gay . . . but he just wanted to be straight like all his friends. He thought about how much he liked seeing his sister's panties and reasoned that he must, in fact, not be gay . . . just an incest pervert. Then he started worrying about being an incest pervert.
Amanda Schultz (more commonly referred to as Mandy) sat between her sister Brittany and her brother Aaron. She was a little uncomfortable because she had to be squished up quite a bit because of how Brittany was sitting in the seat; but seeing Aaron's reaction to seeing their sister's panties was amusing Amanda tremendously. She would have been hesitant to tell anyway as her siblings were always upset when she told . . . she simply couldn't help herself though. At six years old, she had just started "real" school; leaving kindergarten behind. She was excited to become a cheerleader like she saw on TV, and was disappointed to find out that she wouldn't have that option until middle school. Her daddy had seen how much she wanted to be a cheerleader though, and got her a coach anyway. With her tan skin, straight brown hair, green eyes, and predominantly German features, she could easily pass for white; but at her age that mattered very little to her.
Christina Schultz, Chrissy to everybody but her grandfather who called her Tina, sat in her car seat between her siblings Ophelia and Barry. Her head was hanging to the side as she slept soundly, a bit of drool drizzling down her light chocolate skin. At three years old, Chrissy was the baby of the bunch. With her brown skin, eyes, and hair she very much took after her mother. She got daddy's straight hair, as well as his charisma. She was defiantly a little charmer. A major animal lover, she had never seen an animal she didn't want for a pet. Even snakes and spiders that scared her mommy were cute pets to Chrissy. She slept soundly as the sounds of Mozart washed over her until the sound of her daddy's voice woke her up.
"Almost there kids," said Dylan cheerfully, "just up this hill." He turned up the steep switchback road leading to their new home. A pine forest covered the road ahead, but one could see the top of the hill, and the mansion that sat upon it, further up.
"That's not a hill, dad," said Barry. "That's a fucking mountain."
"Language, young man," chastised Divinity.
"Sorry mom."
They continued to climb the well-paved road as it went back and forth, slowly climbing the hill. The pine trees surrounded the car, casting deep shadows all around them.
"It's kind of creepy," said Brittany as she put her leg back down, her comfort suddenly more important than her flirtation. "I hope we're not axe murdered."
"Come on kids," said Dylan, "you'll see. The house is gorgeous. It's just a little bit further." They drove through the forest a bit longer before it suddenly opened to a massive gate. Dylan pushed a button and the gate swung open revealing a massive turn of the century mansion beyond a beautiful garden and hedge maze. The grounds looked well cared for . . . gorgeous really . . . as they drove around the oval drive to stop in front of the house. Dylan parked the car and everyone started shuffling out.
"It's a castle!" exclaimed Amanda in a girlish squeal.
"Dare not call it a castle," came a grizzled old voice as a shadowy figure started to emerge from the hedgemaze, "for there are things here much more sinister than the ghosts and goblins in those European monstrosities. Call it Rosespring Manor."
--Elerneron (talk) 18:50, 14 August 2018 (CEST)