This choice: Something worse than he could have ever imagine was happening • Go Back...Chapter #3The story of Bill and Mike by: Near   Unbeknown to your father, it wasn't only his body image that has been usurped, your mother was also in the same predicament. As the pair suddenly stopped fucking and were being confronted face to face with your father, an evil smile started to appear in your mother's body, your father dick still inside her...
***
(Some days ago)
A pair of homeless were looking in the trash of some upscale neighborhood. One of them, poorly dressed and with old looking clothes. The aged skin on his arm didn't reflect his true age, clearly he hasn't had an easy life until now. He was an old looking man with a simple t-shirt covered in dirt and bluejeans, at the shoulder he had a worn out bag full of cans and some other stuff - discarded utensils, clothes and other stuff that better off people would sometime throw off in the trash instead of repairing or reselling them - the little amount of skin that could be seen though the gray hair of his face showed old wrinkles. The other was a younger looking man with some better off cloths - a blue collar shirt still maintaining a semblance of its pristine state and office pants. He had some weeks old beard and shaky eyes as he looked with preoccupation to the different houses, not wanting to be caught in this deplorable situation.
"C'mon, quickly, I told you I didn't want to be here!"
"Patience ma' boy, I told you that these things-"
"Hey! Who are you!?" the cry of a woman suddenly interrupted them. The shouts were come from upstairs, clearly the owner of the trash they were looking at.
"Shit! Run" the old man cried as he took whatever he could in his hands, the younger man running after him.
The pair ran out as they looked left and right, watching for cops or similar as they exited the neighborhood, going towards an urban emplacement. Neither of them had a great physics, but in the fear of being behind bars they didn't stop until they found a bridge that let them hide out. Out of breath, the pair rested as they tried to normalize their breath. The older man started laughing as the younger one looking at him with disdain.
"I told you! I told you that we shouldn't have gone, if the bitch had called the cops before-"
"But she didn't, okay? Furthermore, if we haven't gone, we wouldn't have gotten... this!"
"What is that?" in the hands of the older guy there was a wooden box, finally crafter but with signs of worn out. A small lock protected the box - more of a decoration than a safety mechanism.
"Don't know... But I know that whatever is inside could fetch some dollars" the guy said as he threw the box to the floor, breaking it in the process.
"NO!" the younger man tried to stop him, he knew the box could be sold separately, but it was too late, the box had broken at its joints, spilling its content - a bronze medallion with some weird indentations. "What are you doing! The box could have been sold!"
The man answered laughing, as he took in the hands the medallion, "It doesn't matter, this could be sold for much more, A WEEK OF MACDONALD IS IN THE FUTURE! Hey, how do I look?" the man put the medallion on.
"Like a bum with a medallion." the young man started to check the rest of the stuff they had acquired - nothing noteworthy, some electrical appliance that could be sold and some old ornaments, used to decor the home. At the end of it, a black lacy thong was hiding between the trash, "Hey! What the fuck is this!?"
"My treasure!" The old man took the little piece of clothes and proceeded to take a good niff. "That's the thing!"
Gross thought the young man as he turned back to see their loot. Some months ago he was an up-and-coming salesman, all his future in front of him cut off by an anonymous tip to HR. Now he was reduced to search in the garbage of the same people that he always look up with old Bill if he wanted to survive.
"W-What is happening!?" the voice that came from behind him wasn't the one of his companion, instead a womanly husky voice came, fear present in it.
"B-Bill?" but it wasn't Bill. A tall looking woman in her forties was there, small wrinkles ran in her face as a panic look was drawn in it. Her long, raven hair was luscious and bright, reaching her hips. Strangely, the woman was wearing the same clothes that Bill had previously worn, his whereabouts unknown. From the chest, big gloves could be seen straining the dirty t-shirt, her nipples poking out of it. If the Botox injected lips and the long nails were a clue, the woman seemed to be of the same type that could be seen in the previous neighborhood - she didn't belong to a dirty bridge with dirty clothes. "Are you... Bill?"
"What the fuck happened to me, Mike?"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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