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From the Archives - Overcast, ch. 4: No Place Like
🕑 Added 2024-10-03 17:18:41 +0000 UTCThe small Cape Cod certainly didn’t look menacing. Nestled on an unassuming suburban street, with a tidy lawn and well-tended flowerbeds, there was nothing sinister, or even remarkable, about it. The compact structure was no looming Victorian mansion with decaying arches and broken windows towering over a weed-infested walkway. Storm clouds didn’t hover perpetually above a gabled roof, nor did eerie mists cling to the facade at all hours. There were no skeletal trees scratching at windows or dense forests full of ominous shadows, only cheerful neighbors out walking their dogs or checking the mail.
But the trio of strapping, stern-faced men knew all too well how deceiving appearances could be. In their matching uniforms of black shoes, gray pants, navy polos and mirrored sunglasses, they were the ones with a menacing aura. They were the ones who threatened and loomed, not the innocent little house with the generic tan siding and rainbow welcome mat by the front door.
“You cover the back…me and the rookie’ll take the front,” Agent Carter said, nodding down the narrow driveway as they approached. “You ready, kid? Just follow our lead and you’ll be fine.” Though he called Agent Wyatt “kid,” the broad-shouldered blonde was only a few years older himself. Each being just under thirty, he and Agent Kane barely had a decade of experience between them, a reality that was far from the aura of “grizzled pro” the blonde tried to project. While he and Agent Kane were good at their jobs, and the fresh-faced brunette accompanying them had shown a promising amount of potential so far, the group was far from the BMR’s finest.
Though, for the job at hand, they didn’t need to be. Their assignment was a simple apprehension. The unlicensed Caster who called the Cape Cod home had been caught selling minor Workings online, and, after failing to respond to a cease and desist, the trio had been sent to bring him in. Given the relatively inconsequential nature of the man’s magic it hadn’t been deemed necessary to send an entire team and disrupt the whole neighborhood when a few warded agents could get the job done.
Agent Kane grinned and let out a low whistle. “Anyone ever tell you how hot it is when you get all commanding like that,” he asked, mocking the other man’s intensity.
Agent Carter shot his partner a glare and took a step closer, as if it would keep the younger man from hearing him. “I’m trying to teach the new kid some good habits over here,” he hissed. “You want to get him killed? Or worse?”
The dark-skinned man looked around the blonde’s shoulders and locked eyes with Agent Wyatt. “You’ve been through your drills, right? You know the Three C’s once we get inside?”
“Corners, Cats, Casters,” the lean brunette responded. “Make sure the room is clear, watch out for any familiars, don’t forget we’re dealing with magic.”
“See? He’ll be fine,” Agent Kane said, giving Agent Carter a clap on the shoulder. Aside from his own ebony-hued skin compared to the blonde’s golden tan, the two were almost identical. They both stood just over six feet, they were both fit and athletically built without being bulky or cumbersome, and each of their square-jawed faces was adorned with the same short-cropped hairstyle. It was the standard BMR physique, the kind of body that could be both imposing or nimble as the situation required. Agent Wyatt’s chocolate crop matched the others, but his features were still boyish, and his lean-but-solid frame still sat closer to the “nimble” end of things. “I mean, look at this place. Dude’s low tier…it’s not like we’re going after a heavy hitter,” Agent Kane continued.
“I sure hope so, considering we’ve just given them more than enough time to prepare,” Agent Carter sighed. “Let’s go.” With a nod, the trio broke. Agents Carter and Wyatt headed for the front door while Agent Kane trotted to the back, each waiting a few seconds before trying their respective doors. The warded bracelets they wore automatically disabled any locks and would have vibrated in the presence of any arcane traps, but the deadbolts quickly turned while the silver strands around their wrists stayed silent. Once inside, the two agents entering in front had a clear view through the living room of Agent Kane slipping into the kitchen in back. The modest home’s interior appeared just as unremarkable as the exterior, with a smattering of generic, big-box furniture peppering the small living space. More importantly, though, the two rooms were empty, as their sunglasses would have revealed any obfuscated occupants. “BMR! We know you’re here, Mr. Dalton. Don’t make this any harder,” Agent Carter called. He waited a few silent moments before nodding at Agent Kane to head towards the nearby hallway, when a sudden, sourceless voice filled the room.
“THIS is who they send after me,” the man said, his tone exasperated. “Still? After all this time? They sent a baby with you into the lion’s den! Ridiculous! I thought this was the vaunted BMR? The ones who protected the world against evil magic,” he spat, drawing out the last phrase. “And they still haven’t noticed?”
Agent Carter shot his companions a quick glance as they grouped together in the center of the room. “Noticed what,” he asked, keeping his voice calm. “Who were you expecting?”
“Someone a sight more impressive than you three,” the man said with a short, humorless laugh. “How many is it going to take? I don’t mind the fun, but I don’t know whether I should be insulted or disappointed. Either the BMR is trolling me, or they’re bigger idiots than even I imagined.”
“Why don’t you come out and we can talk about it, Victor,” Agent Kane offered.
“Oh, are we on a first name basis already, Bryan? You’d like me to come have a chat with you and Mike and little Stevie?” The man’s voice dripped with condescension, a chuckle ringing through the room at the agents’ startled expressions. Their various wards, along with the protective enchantment that had been placed on them at headquarters, should have prevented any psychic intrusion, as well as any magical effects a Caster of Victor’s supposed caliber could muster, but they hadn’t slowed the unseen man down in the slightest. “I thought we were talking already?”
While the two older agents exchanged another glance, Agent Wyatt instinctively looked back towards the door, only to find it, and the windows, missing, now replaced by a solid wall. “Uh…problem,” he said, his heart racing as it became abundantly clear just how much they were in over their heads. Before either of his companions could react, the voice continued.
“I keep setting the same trap over and over,” the man groaned. “And they keep falling for it! I waste my time with a few minor miracles to put myself on their radar, they send a few unsuspecting agents to come get me, and they don’t even notice when those agents fail to return! It’s laughable! I go to all the trouble of setting them up with a new life, swinging the equivalent of a magical sledgehammer, and the bastards don’t even catch it?” There was a pause before the man continued, now contemplative. “Maybe I don’t know my own strength? I don’t want to gas myself up too much, but I am quite good at this.”
“How many times,” Agent Kane asked, kicking himself for his earlier, carefree attitude.
“Oh, I don’t know. Ten? Maybe twelve? Enough that you’d think some BMR bigwig would have felt something.” The man’s frustrated tone went gentle when he continued. “But why are you scared? This is what you signed up for! The three of you standing up to the forces of darkness, keeping the BMR’s fascist boot on everyone’s neck.”
“What? No…the BMR protects everyone from…” Agent Wyatt started before the man interrupted him, his frazzled nerves making him forget the dangers of talking to a Caster.
“The BMR protects the interests of people who want to maintain their OWN power over everyone else. Simple as that. If reality CAN be changed, then it SHOULD be. But that might mean someone else having to share, and we can’t have that, can we? That’s what the BMR protects. They could give a damn about anything else. You three are just meat they grind up in the process,” he said, sighing. “You really are lucky. Unlike some of my peers, I know it’s not your fault. I didn’t say I gave those other agents a bad life, just a new one. Look around! A quaint house on a quiet street…the three of you…it’s the American dream! A perfect start for a devoted couple and their little man.”
There was a blinding flash, followed by a sensation of vertigo as the room spun. When his vision cleared, Agent Wyatt found himself flat on his back, blinking up in a daze at the other two. The first thing he noticed was their altered outfits, how an eggshell polo now stood out against Agent Kane’s dark skin, while Agent Carter’s had been swapped out for pastel blue. Instead of gray trousers they now wore small khaki shorts, but more alarming to the prone brunette was the way they looked down at him. Both men gazed with loving eyes as they held each other’s hand, and it wasn’t until Agent Wyatt lifted his head and followed those eyes that he saw what had become of himself. His own uniform hadn’t changed, it had vanished entirely. The stunned young man’s eyes went wide as he gawked at his toned pecs and exposed washboard, and the way his athletic legs jutted from an awkward, bulky diaper. There was even a pacifier in his mouth, but it became clear as he struggled, and failed, to sit up, that talking was out of the question regardless. Though his leanly muscled frame hadn’t changed, the coordination with which he normally operated it had been greatly reduced. He squirmed and writhed and tried in vain to alert the pair, but their loving eyes had shifted from him to each other as they leaned in for a passionate kiss.
“Hmmm…seems a bit stuffy,” the man said. “A baby is a lot of work, and you three seem like more active types anyway. How about a dog instead?”
Another dizzying flash followed, and while Agent Wyatt still found himself looking up at the pair, it was from a different perspective. Their outfits had changed yet again, now for a pair of neon muscle shirts and small, tight gym shorts, while his truly had vanished. Agent Wyatt could feel his long, thick cock and heavy balls hanging exposed as he crouched on hands and knees, gradually becoming aware of the thick collar biting into the back of his neck as he gazed up at the kissing duo. The kneeling agent knew he should have been embarrassed by the circumstances, but, as he looked at the others, all he felt was a growing excitement. His bare, perky bubble began to wiggle back and forth, and before he could stop himself he was nuzzling and licking Agent Carter’s exposed thigh. When the agent absently reached down and stroked his hair, it was an ecstasy like he’d never felt before. Agent Wyatt felt his wagging cock rocket to attention, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was more hands on him, rubbing him, telling him he was a good boy. A part of him still tried to warn his partners, but all he managed were a few whimpers and excited yelps.
“See? It could be so much better. I’ll tell you what…I’ll leave it up to you. Come find me and maybe you’ll find your new selves in the process,” the voice said, bringing the delirious haze to an abrupt end.
“Fuck!” Agent Wyatt yelped, his voice, and tongue, once again his own. He’d come back to his senses running the latter up Agent Carter’s sturdy thigh, and he still had to force himself to pull away and jump to his feet. The entirety of his lean frame went beet red as his rigid log pointed directly at the other two, but they had their own concerns.
“Gah,” Agent Carter yelped, instinctively pulling away from Agent Kane. “Were we just…oh…oh no…” he said, shaking his head when he saw their collar-clad companion. “You…you okay, kid?”
“No! Look at me! You said this was going to be a simple job! I was just wearing a fucking diaper! Then I was licking your leg? What the fuck?! I thought you knew what you were doing,” the naked brunette roared.
“Easy boy,” Agent Kane said, reflexively reaching out and rubbing the younger man’s firm stomach. There was a brief moment where the brunette grinned and groaned, his cock twitching, before everyone realized what was happening. “Shit! Sorry! It was…it was instinct.”
“Kind of like that,” Agent Wyatt asked, nodding at the pair’s still-clasped hands.
There was another moment of shocked silence as the two men looked at the hands, then at each other, their eyes lingering.
“Okay…you can let go,” Agent Kane finally said, even as he tightened his grip.
“No, YOU let go,” Agent Carter said, not making the slightest attempt.
Another round of staring into each other’s eyes followed before Agent Kane let out a low breath. “Oh, that motherfucker,” he grumbled. “Of all the blonde bimbos I could fall in love with, it’s YOU?”
“What do you mean ‘it’s me’? You could do a hell of a lot worse, sweety. Why are you even mad? You’re mister ‘happy-go-lucky, everything’s fine all the time’! I was the one who said we should be careful, but you were all ‘it’s no big deal,’ and now we…we…” Agent Carter trailed off when he saw the coy grin Agent Kane was giving him, and when he realized just how much they sounded like an arguing couple. “Stop looking at me like that,” he half-protested with a short laugh, blushing. “And what the hell are we wearing?”
“Something new, that’s for sure,” Agent Kane said, squirming. He reached down with his free hand and pulled open the waist of his shorts, revealing a pair of skimpy purple bikinis that had replaced his normal boxer briefs. “Should I change my name to Ahab,” he laughed when he looked back up, slipping a hand through the draping side of Agent Carter’s muscle shirt to snap the other man’s exposed whale tail.
“Hey!” the blonde yelped, playfully slapping his partner’s prominent pecs instead of actually trying to stop him. He squirmed at the sensation of the thin string wedging between his muscled globes, his cock throbbing.
“Guys,” Agent Wyatt barked, still fighting the urge to be as close to the flirtatious pair as possible. “Get it together,” he said, his rigid cock wagging like a tail in reverse when he looked around the room. The exterior doors and windows were still missing, meaning they had to either find the Caster or at least another exit.
“Fuck,” Agent Kane grumbled. He shook his head and reluctantly pulled away from Agent Carter, his hand absently making its way to the naked brunette’s hair before he caught himself. There was an awkward silence as Agent Wyatt leaned into it before quickly pulling away.
“They…they told us what it was like…and I’ve seen some stuff already, but I never thought…” the younger man stammered, his eyes wide. “What’s going to happen to us?”
“We’ll figure that out later,” Agent Carter said, trying to sound confident. The younger man’s fear had bolstered his resolve, but he knew they were all out of their depth. “I guess we go in.”
“What? That’s exactly what he wants,” Agent Wyatt protested. “Can’t we just wait for them to send help?”
Agent Kane sighed and ruffled the younger man’s hair again. “Kid…they’re not going to. There’s a chance they don’t even know us anymore. Magic, remember?” He reached up and gently removed the brunette’s collar before slipping out of his muscle shirt and handing it over. The draping, open-sided top did little to actually cover the lean young man, but at least he wasn’t entirely exposed anymore. “We just have to get through right now.”
Agent Wyatt nodded, falling in line behind the other two as the group cautiously headed for the door on the other side of the living room. Deeper into the terrifyingly mundane house was the last place he wanted to go, but there were no other options. The main room emptied into less of a hallway and more of a landing, with stairs going up to their left, and a trio of doors to the right. One appeared to be a small bathroom, while the other two looked like bedrooms which, as with the rest of the house, were entirely commonplace. And empty.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s down here,” Agent Carter said, struggling to keep his eyes off Agent Kane’s broad, bare back.
“How would we know, really,” the shirtless man shrugged. “He could be standing right next to us. Do we check upstairs?”
“Let’s clear these first,” the blonde man said, nodding for his partner to check the far bedroom while he motioned for Agent Wyatt to check the bathroom. The rooms were close enough that it didn’t feel as if they were splitting up, it would only take seconds to reconvene at the first sign of trouble, but they grew worlds apart as soon as they crossed their respective thresholds.
Instead of stepping into a dim bedroom, Agent Kane’s exposed skin was hit with a bright burst of warmth as he instead found himself on a sunny stretch of sand. Salty air filled his nostrils while sparkling waves crashed at steady intervals nearby, punctuated by the screech of seagulls overhead. He immediately spun on his heels in an attempt to dive back through the door, only there was no door. Where a threshold should have been was now only uninterrupted beach, with a few figures in the distance.
“Bry! What’re you doin’? Get over here, brah!”
Agent Kane turned at the voice, discovering a group of hulking, scantily clad men waving at him from the rugged, ocean-side workout station. The cluster of bars and racks and rusted weights was rudimentary at best, but the increasingly addled agent found himself trotting over. It didn’t matter that he knew he needed to find an exit; the cluster of metal and muscle was like an oasis. Though he didn’t recognize any of the striated, speedo-clad studs waiting for him, they all seemed to know who he was, and he felt an overwhelming familiarity despite the impossible circumstances.
“‘Bout time, dude,” a bald, middle-aged wall of muscle said as he stepped forward and literally ripped the shorts from the dark-skinned man’s frame. “Look at you! Where’d it all go, bro,” the man said, running his calloused hands along Agent Kane’s sturdy, but considerably smaller, arms.
Instead of being embarrassed at the forced exposure, all the agent felt was a rush of insecurity at his smaller stature. His purple bikinis weren’t as stuffed, his muscles not as rippling, and the athletic frame he’d always been proud of suddenly seemed woefully inadequate. A part of him still knew what was happening, knew that this was all a Caster’s doing, but that part took a backseat to his new, growth-oriented priorities.
Without the slightest hesitation, he dove in. Pull-ups, push-ups, squats, dips, lunges; Bryan’s body was on autopilot. He let himself be guided by the grinning gods around him, relishing the sensation of their bare, solid bulk as he used their bodies for extra resistance. There was no awkwardness at their touch, only a sense of solidarity, a shared desire to get as big as possible, as fast as possible. Bryan could feel his body aching, but he could also feel it growing. As he powered through impossible rep after impossible rep, his shoulders broadened. His back expanded and his pecs inflated, his neck seeming to lose half of its length. Already-sturdy arms doubled in size next to a now-shredded washboard, and his lower half had become a sculpted, meaty foundation. Bryan’s ample globes swallowed nearly all of the ill-fitting bikinis while his massive thighs thrust a ballooning package obscenely forward and rocky calves sat like small boulders below. Whether days, hours, or minutes had passed, the former agent had become a brawny beast of a man, the constant “brah-ing”, “bro-ing”, “dude-ing” and giddy grunting filling his head to capacity. Any previous intent from his life as Agent Kane had long since been buried, leaving a bubbly, bodybuilding Bry in its place. When his fattened cock slipped free once again, the sculpted stud simply tore the bikinis away, letting his swaying new snake plump and twitch as he stepped up to the bar for another set.
Meanwhile, in the room next door, Agent Carter found himself stepping into equally unfamiliar territory. Instead of a bedroom, the startled blonde appeared to be backstage, coming face-to-face with a crowd of expectant strangers.
“Mike! Where the fuck have you been! And what are you wearing? Look at you! You’re not even ready,” a flustered young man cried before Agent Carter could say anything.
“Wait…who…where…” the agent said, frantically searching for the now-absent doorway. “I’m…I’m a…” he tried to announce himself as a member of the BMR, but the words faded even as he spoke them.
“Late for his show? Is that what you were going to say,” the exasperated young man asked. With his wiry build and shaggy hair he reminded Agent Carter of someone, but the confused blonde couldn’t quite put his finger on who. “We can still get you ready in time. Arms up,” he said, motioning for a few of the other strange men to help.
“Hey! What’re you…those are my clothes…” Agent Carter half-heartedly protested, even as he raised his arms to let his shirt be pulled free. Likewise, he kicked out of his shoes and let someone pull his shorts down, until he was left standing in nothing but the crimson thong. A part of him felt like he should be embarrassed, but a larger part felt perfectly at home, almost relieved, at his exposed state.
“Mike…I know the ‘roids have just done wonders for that sparkling intellect of yours, but I need you to work with me here,” the young man said, tousling the blonde’s short hair. Mike wanted to protest, but as soon as the other man’s fingers hit his skull, the room seemed to spin. “Now put your arms out.” Mike did as he was told, trying, and failing, to bring some sort of structure to his fluid thoughts. He knew something had just happened, but he couldn’t quite figure out what, or why. It made him feel anxious and confused, so he instead leaned into what felt good, which was doing what the young man told him. He winced at the harsh smell when a cloud of what appeared to be orange spray-tan was applied from head-to-toe, grinning when someone briefly pulled down his thong to make sure the coverage was complete. “Alright…go get ‘em, stud,” the younger man said, giving Mike’s bare, orange cheeks a slap.
Without fully knowing what he was doing, the confused blonde sauntered out onto a stage. His heart started racing when he saw the crowd of eager men in the audience, and for just a moment he felt like he should turn and flee back behind the curtain, but he stayed rooted in place. Until the flexing began. His body on autopilot, Mike broke into a series of poses, his eyes going wide when the corresponding muscles ballooned in response. He’d always been well-built, but his existing muscle was nothing like the ample bulk he began to sprout. Arms, shoulders, back, chest, stomach; everything expanded until the blonde’s bare torso was a beefy, bloated barrel of striated flesh. Instead of merely athletic, Mike had the body of a heavyweight bodybuilder, his trunk-like legs fighting with each other for space as his ballooning rear dimpled and flexed. The crimson thong had practically become invisible, and as the brawny blonde’s fattened cock and hefty balls began to slip free and go hard, the crowd went wild.
And Mike loved it. He was still confused, but the parts of him that wanted to be afraid were long gone, leaving only the parts that felt good. He didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t need to. There were people backstage who told him what to do; he just had to do it. It was attention he really wanted, not control, and Mike was all too happy to do whatever he needed in order to get it.
Agent Wyatt, however, was less excited by the crowd of faces grinning in his direction. The younger man still found himself standing in a bathroom, but when he turned around to leave, there was an entirely different, unfinished house waiting for him, along with a group of impossibly familiar strangers. The wiry agent instinctively went to cover his exposed lower half, but instead of trying to conceal his rigid cock, he absently grabbed at it instead.
“Awww, hell,” a gruff, older man spat when he turned and saw the surprised young agent. “Who took Steve’s pants again?”
There was an amused murmuring as the rugged crew chuckled and shrugged without anyone claiming credit. For his part, Agent Wyatt felt like he knew the answer, but he couldn’t get it to fully connect. He remembered being with older men in a house, and that he was supposed to do what they told him, but all he could really focus on was the beefy bear’s disapproving tone. “Did…did I do something wrong,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair. The motion caused the pointless shirt to lift higher, to accentuate his lean definition, and the flustered young man immediately registered the hungry eyes that lingered approvingly in response.
“Nah, it ain’t your fault, Steve,” the gruff man sighed, shaking his head. “These horny bastards just can’t help themselves.”
Steve grinned, his mood instantly improved by the older man’s gentle tone. He looked around the obvious construction site, still confused, but he was happy as long as the burly crew was. “Can I…can I help them,” he asked, following the earlier impulse. Though they were rapidly becoming opaque, Steve had hazy memories that he was supposed to be helping some older guys, but who they were and what he was supposed to be helping with was already beyond him. His smile grew at the whistles and cat-calls that followed, but the salt-and-pepper stud in front of him just shook his head.
“Not like that…at least not right now,” he said, turning his attention to the rowdy, burly bunch. “We got work to do, don’t we,” he barked, motioning for the men to go back to what they’d been doing. “Okay, Steve. You know what to do…just go where the guys tell you, alright?”
The young brunette nodded, his head spinning as he fell into an impossible routine. As if he’d done it countless times before, he began flitting around the work site, carrying equipment and supplies as needed. Except for the times when one of the guys would slap his bare cheeks or give his dangling cock a tug, his exposure was largely forgotten. It had been relegated to an area of his brain devoid of meaning as long as it made the men around him happy. Steve also noticed the impossible growth that was taking place as he hauled the heavy equipment and cumbersome materials around, but no one else seemed to think it was odd, so neither did he. As his draping muscle shirt tightened and began to bunch on a set of oversized globes, Steve didn’t stop to think about his changing appearance at all. The constant bending, squatting and lifting had caused his lower half to outpace the upper, so while his torso had packed on an impressive amount of ample, athletic muscle, it still looked small compared to the meaty thighs and plump pillows below. Steve could feel his heaping rear bouncing and shifting with each step, but it only registered at all because of the darts of pleasure the motion sent to his newly thickened club of a cock.
“Well…THAT was easy,” a familiar voice said, cutting through the individual fantasies. “All I did was scrape the surface and those secret desires jumped right out, didn’t they? A man who just wants to chill with his bros, someone who secretly hates the responsibility they’ve been given, and a little boy just desperate to belong. You’re all welcome, by the way. Maybe this time the BMR will finally notice?”
There was a lingering pause as the three, now-hulking men stared at each other. The beach, stage, and construction site had vanished, but their altered bodies, and the earlier feelings of affection for each other, remained. As he stared at the dark-skinned stud, his arms hanging at an angle from his hulking torso, and at the bottom-heavy brunette, Mike struggled in vain to remember what felt so important, and why he felt suddenly anxious. He was at home with the men he loved, but something felt off.
“You dudes okay,” Bryan finally asked, his perpetual grin as charming as ever.
Mike nodded, absently running a hand along his new slab of a chest. “I…think so? Fuck…guess I spaced out for a minute…” he shrugged, returning his friend’s smile. “Bry…what were we doing? I’m horny as shit, but…”
“Did you guys want to fuck me,” Steve interrupted, almost bashfully, as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. If the abrupt question struck any of them as odd it didn’t show in their eager grins.
“Duh, bro,” Bryan said, rolling his eyes. “Bring that fat ass over here.”
Mike looked down at his rigid, aching club and nodded. “Ohhh, right. THAT’S what we were doing.”
“Dude, don’t act like you actually remember,” Bryan chided, giving the blonde a peck on the cheek as they all stumbled into the bedroom. “It’s okay if you forgot.”
Mike just grinned and wrapped his piston arms around the other muscled mountain of a man, their imposing cocks wedged between them as they lingered in a deeper kiss. On the nearby bed, Steve knelt on hands and knees, wagging his oversized globes as he watched his friends writhe in each other’s arms. “You want top or bottom,” the blonde beefcake asked when they finally broke it off.
“I’ll take top,” Bryan said, the bed groaning under their combined weight when the burly new giants clambered into position.
“Works for me,” Mike sighed, taking a few moments to clap and knead Steve’s heaping cakes before lining himself up for entry.
There were no more words after that, just a moaning, groaning and slamming that could be heard up and down the street. But the neighbors didn’t mind. They’d long since gotten used to the friendly, if somewhat unique, trio that called the little Cape Cod home.
Comments
The Screaming Moist
Thanks! I always try to make sure these standalone but still function as part of the bigger world.
DJ Mortenson
It was an incredible story. Very sexy with a believable plot that held my attention to the very end. And it works equally well as a short story or as a chapter in a book. Kudos
