Huge Surprise in Swim Trunks ch.21 (Patreon)

"You'll be studying," Tracey nodded. "But not in the dorm."

The girl didn't want to explain, but from the smile and laughter of Daphne and Fleur, they knew what she meant. Harry pushed it aside, worrying about how they'd get home, but his worries proved unnecessary. A rented car awaited them in the parking lot at the foot of the mountain, and the shuttle driver waved them off as he headed back with a new load of supplies for the firefighters.

Their information was collected, and insurance companies noted, before they climbed into the truck and Harry started the drive home. By then, the sun was setting on the third day since the fire erupted, and only Red Bull and rock music kept him from falling asleep during the long drive.

The girls slept in one corner of the cabin while his mom dozed on his shoulder, her hand trapped between her thighs. Whispers escaped her lips as she slipped into a half-sleep, dreams that colored her cheeks and made her unable to look him in the eye upon waking. Harry noticed that after each dream, she gazed longingly at her friend and cuddled closer, pressing his hand tighter against herself.

The images dancing in Harry's head and their extrapolated fantasies kept his eyes more open than caffeine, and they returned to the city with the sun a finger's width above the horizon. The girls began to wake as he pulled off the highway, blinking their owl eyes.

"Jesus, I didn't think we'd ever make it," Daphne sighed, stretching her arms forward and working her neck.

"It wasn't the weekend getaway we wanted," Tracey said. "But it makes one hell of a story."

"What?" Fleur asked, sitting up front and pointing.

A large group of people stood in front of their small house. Two white vans with whirling antennas on the roofs were parked across the street, and what looked like film crews were set up on the sidewalk, with a pair of reporters standing in front of them with microphones.

The moment the girls and Harry's mom realized they were to be recorded, there was a frenzy of adjusting clothes and fighting over mirrors. The girls lamented their lack of makeup, combing each other's hair with their fingers.

"You all look great," Harry said, pulling up in front of the neighbor's house.

"Speak for yourself," Tracey muttered. "You roll out of bed, and you're hot, with those long, messy locks. But this," she plucked at the ragged shirt tied around her waist, "makes me look like an ugly homeless person."

"You could never look ugly," Harry said, earning a dimpled smile from sister. "The three of you look like you fell out of a van at Burning Man," he nodded to the people approaching their truck, having seen all five of them crammed into the cabin. "But I'll distract them if you want to run inside and change."

"We do look a bit like festival chicks," Fleur grinned, opening the door and yelling in surprise as she was pushed out by the pressure. "Hey, it's... mom!"

The petite blonde leapt forward, throwing herself into the arms of a well-dressed woman, and Daphne tumbled into her embrace a moment later. Neighbors and friends had gathered at their home after word spread that they were among the missing. The sidewalk was covered in candle wax from vigils, and the grass trampled from celebrations when news of their rescue arrived.

Reporters had been waiting since dawn and were eager to interview them, but they had to wait until Harry's mom and the girls changed clothes. While they did, Harry was overwhelmed with questions about their escape and more than a little uncomfortable by the looks he received from many women and the comfort they felt, reaching out and touching him.

stepmother Delacour was the exception. The elegant woman wore more gemstones than their house was worth, but she clasped Harry's hands and thanked him for saving her daughters' lives.

"My heart wept every second they were missing... The images on the news, the terrible fires... It's a miracle they are alive, and you are that miracle!"

Harry tried to pull back from her grasp, knowing her silky white clothes would be stained by the soot and grime on his, but she ignored it, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tight.

"Thank you," she breathed into his neck, her heels making her nearly his height.

Hours of fantasies on the drive here had not prepared Harry for the warm embrace of stepmother Fleur. Blessed with Madelyn's delicate, lovely features and Daphne's curvy figure, his reaction was immediate, but she didn't pull away as he feared. The cameras whirred around them, and she made sure to block their view when she stepped back, a glint in her green eyes. When the reporters stepped forward with their microphones extended, her arm still covered his crotch, but they seemed oblivious to the fingers clutching his thigh as her wide, soft bottom pressed against his leg. It looked as though Delacour was shielding him from the vultures.

"Young man, what was it like to escape from home?" one of them asked.

"Was it terrifying or sad to see everything you loved destroyed?" another inquired.

"Are you happy the governor declared a state of emergency and will force insurers to pay top rates?" the first one pressed on, barely pausing after his initial question.

Harry frowned, his first reaction was to think these questions were stupid, and his second was that telling them so wouldn't be wise.

"I carried out of the fire everything I loved. The cabin..." he shook his head, his face falling. "It's just wood and stone. I’ll pray for those who didn't make it out."

Harry could have said more about the governor and the government's opportunism, but it wasn’t worth staying bitter. That poison would only fester. He was saved from more questions by the girls emerging from the house. With amusement, he noticed that Tracey and her friends still wore their torn and ragged shirts tied around their waists.

Delacour released Harry's leg as the girls positioned themselves between him and the cameras, frowning slightly at his sister with a hint of jealousy. She scowled as she saw Daphne grabbing his hand behind his back and shifting her wide rear onto his thigh, while Fleur did the same on his other side. The friends unconsciously mirrored their stepmother, and the woman smiled tenderly as his sister took over the reporter’s narrative.

Fortunately, Harry no longer had to answer their questions because Tracey captivated everyone’s attention. The reporter and cameraman watched with smiles as she spoke. Once again, she portrayed Harry in the best possible light, and he himself reminisced about the years they had shared. Tracey had always been a complicated girl. Gifted with the looks of a model, she learned to use it to her advantage in a culture that gave her as much power as a man. Harry always assumed that confidence stemmed from an addiction to attention, but that wasn't true. She was her stepmother’s daughter, keeping most of her emotions tightly wrapped under an outer shell.

That shell cracked as she talked about Harry pulling them through the lake and leading them through the blackened forests. Turning to Daphne, she hugged her close, describing how Harry carried her for many miles, and though her expression was artificial and elicited “aww” and “ooh” from the crowd, there wasn’t a hint of insincerity.

"It was a tough time, but we got through it together. The firefighters and paramedics who rescued us deserve credit, but to me, the hero was my brother."

Harry blushed as she smiled at him with a dimple and tried to ignore the fact that his mom and Delacour were standing on the porch, hunched over in deep conversation.

"What’s next, young man?" one of the reporters asked. "Now that you’re home and safe?"

"I could go for a burger and a nap," Harry said, patting his stomach as it growled audibly.

General laughter rippled through the gathered neighbors, and then the group dispersed as the reporters turned to their cameras for closing remarks.

"As you can see, Diane, this family has safely returned home, thanks to our brave emergency services and the heroism of one young man... Yes, a handsome young man," the reporter smiled into the camera before walking off with his crew.

"Well done," Fleur said, moving closer as her mom stepped away from the porch. "Maybe we’ll get you that burger and take a... drive?" She frowned at the sight of Daphne and their red convertible, but Delacour had other ideas.

"You girls go home and change out of those... rags," she sniffed Daphne's shirt and stepped back, earning a sniff in return from the blonde teen.

"I think this will be the new cut," Daphne said, placing her hands on her hips and rolling her shoulders in a way that made her large, braless breasts sway indecently.

"That’s enough," her mom said, wrapping an arm around her and steering her toward the silver Mercedes.

Daphne smiled at Harry but didn’t break from her stepmother's grasp. She held her close, one arm around her waist, and the pair clung to each other as they walked to the car.

"I'll call you tonight and we’ll discuss this matter," Fleur winked at Tracey, then walked past Harry, dragging a nail across his chest. "Hmmghh."

With one final growl and shake of her head, she followed her sister, giving Harry a lingering look that made his pulse quicken again. It took several more minutes for him to break free from the neighbors. After retelling the story briefly three times, he finally broke away and slipped inside.

The shower was running upstairs, and he heard Fleetwood Mac playing loudly. He entered the kitchen and found Tracey sitting at the table with a box of cereal, a pitcher of milk, and an empty bowl beside her, scooping spoonfuls into her mouth.

"Mulk's stuuul gaad," she said with her mouth full, pushing the box toward him.

Harry sat in the opposite seat and dug into the food. It wasn’t a burger, but it was satisfying and quelled his hunger. When he finally sat back and let the food settle, Tracey watched him through half-closed eyes, a mysterious smile at the corner of her mouth.