Unexpected Reality: Book 1: Gamer Girl Page 15

  so I unlocked the door and waited for them.

  Surgery was done successfully and paramedics moved her to the resting room where she

  was supposed to be for 3 days. I was curious if she had seen me while doing that to her. I

  felt the guilt for looting her respect while she was under my care.

  Three days passed and she stood on her legs without any pain felt. I went to examine her

  and she starred at me again and again. Her eyes gave me the clue that she knew that it was

  me. I directed her about the usage of medicine to cure the stitches rapidly and suggested to

  pay me a visit after a week. Her seriousness drained the shit out of me because it could lead

  to a legal prosecution.

  After a week, she came to the hospital and asked for me. I sent a nurse to the reception to keep

  an eye and don’t let her talk to the receptionist who escorted her to my office. She knocked

  the door and entered the room.

  “Hi miss Maggie… So how’re you feeling?” I greeted her and interrogated, trying to hide my

  guilt.

  She was glaring me with too much attention and she tried to inspect my behaviour.

  “Okay… Much better than before, I think you should prolong the medication because pain is

  still there”

  “Mmm Hmmm…” I replied, formulating another prescription.

  She grabbed the prescription and observed my every nervous movement. She was trying to

  detect me. Exiting the room, she scooted to the receptionist.

  “Hey… I was operated here last week, exactly 7 days ago… I was curious if I can have video

  of my surgery” Maggie questioned.

  “No ma’am, you need to ask head of dept. Mr Mart”

  “Okay” she replied.

  I received a call by the receptionist and she intimated me about her desire to get that video.

  This indicated that she was now having doubt on me. I disconnected the call, unhanging my

  coat and rushing out of the room.

  “Where sir?” Billy asked as I stormed out of the room.

  “Nowhere… Just control the dept. I will be back…” I shouted, running towards the elevator...

  I pressed its button and the door stretched open. “Parking 1… Parking 1… Parking 1…” I

  whispered continuously. The door opened as the elevator reached P1. Dashing towards the

  rows of car and hiding between them, I tried to find her out. She was unlocking the car,

  jangling the keys. I tiptoed towards her. She opened the door and slumped onto the seat. As

  soon as she closed the door, I opened the rare door and sat on the seat.

  “Who… Who are you??” She asked with a quaking voice.

  “Drive the car out of this parking without making any noise” I commanded, changing my

  voice so that she cannot identify me.

  “What do you want?”

  “Nothing. Just drive to street 331, house 21”

  She swivelled the keys to ignite the engine and started driving. I ejected the knife from my

  pocket and pinched it with her neck. She tried to get a look at me but I was hiding my face at

  the back of seat. She drove to the stated adsuit and I commanded her to give me the keys

  of car. She turned the engine off and gave the keys to me. I pinched the knife little bit more

  and asked her to get out from the car. She did. Then I forced her to knock the door but there

  was no response. I examined my pockets and found the keys of door, commanding her to

  open it. She opened it and I pushed her towards my room.

  “Hey hon. you home?” My mother’s fading voice, from her room, reached my ears.

  “Yes maa…”

  “Upstairs” I whispered, directing her.

  I opened the door of my room and pushed her inwards with a great force. She was

  bewildered to see Stacy tied up...

  “Doc mart… I knew it was you who fucked me when I was unconscious” she shouted and

  tried to get out of the room.

  I resisted her and told both of them not to shout or shriek and if they did, I menaced them

  that I would kill them.

  I tied Maggie’s hands and legs. Scissoring her clothes, I touched her fluffy parts. She sobbed

  and lamented but I only heard the voice of lust. I went downstairs and brought some

  eatables from fridge and fed Stacy, forcefully. Then I opened my drawer and got the hand

  cuffs. Hammering the nails to install the hand cuffs, I tried to minimise the noise.

  “What are doing??” My mother asked.

  “Nothing just hammering a nail for hanging a picture…”

  “Okay”

  Putting their hands in the cuffs, I made them leaning to the wall with their faces towards the

  wall. Stacy’s ass was still best one and I started licking her that stinky yet tasty arsehole.

  Then I fucked her into her ass and she moaned with every stroke. 2 ladies leaning, naked, with a wall. What a sizzling and tempting scene that was. Maggie kept on sobbing and her

  eyes went red due to continuous weeping. I untied her hands and made her lie on the bed.

  He boobs were heavier, perkier and larger than Stacy’s. Stacy stood with her hands tied

  hapless, trying to beg pardon for betrayal.

  I picked up the baseball bat and inserted that in Maggie’s ass. She moaned loudly.

  “Don’t do this… I will forget what happened there in surgery room, please pardon me….”

  She said, crying and yelling for help.

  Blood started gushing out of her ass and I cleansed it, applying some drugs. Her boobs were

  like saucers of milk and I sucked them. What a pleasure that was. Then I untied Stacy and

  forced both of them to suck each other’s. They cried and sucked each other then I got a

  blow job by Stacy.

  Days passed and I spent all the time with my sex dolls. Stacy was used to of being fucked in

  every hole and she used to do all what I needed by herself but Maggie was still

  uncomfortable. I made them squirt, moan and sign and even sometimes carve for more sex.

  I used to wax them with my semen. Maggie’s boobs were pillow for me and Stacy was

  warmth provider.

  Chapter 7: Remorse

  Haggard, I reached home and entered in.

  “I’m here” I shrieked.

  “Who’s she?” My mother asked while chopping the carrots.

  I was bewildered at her question and stood dumbfound. I rushed upstairs and unlocked the

  room. Both of them were there, busy in fingering each other’s. I took the hammer with me,

  throwing the cell phone on the table and moving down stairs.

  “I asked something? Who’s she? There’s nothing in this home except moans and smell of

  semen” she asked again with a serious mood prevailing over her.

  I tiptoed towards her and stroke the hammer in the head. She fell on the ground with blood

  gushing out of her wound. Maggie picked up my phone, making a call to police. I stood

  there, watching the blood flowing out of her head. The chopped carrots were stained with

  blood. I was having nothing in my mind. I killed her. Maggie jumped out from the window

  after making the call and I slumped onto the floor, thinking of what I did.

  Suddenly, sirens of police mobiles wailed over the area and cops busted into the home.

  They arrested me with the evidences and Maggie was found dead with wounds due to fetish

  sex. Stacy reported all what happened to her.

  I was insensitive due to the lust of sex. A monster due to my bad intentions and

  neglected everyone including those sexy ladies. Thousands of questions burnt in my head but I
remained inhuman in the love of fetish sex. And most importantly, the

  lust of fetish, mature, sex forced me to kill my mother. I could not even feel anything now,

  not even the shame but still tears well up in my eyes.

  -----------------

  The investigator shook me.

  “Hey you lost somewhere? You know what you got AIDS by fucking Maggie. She’s having

  aids. You will die by your own” he shouted.

  I flickered my eyes and tears flooded my red eyes.

  3 lives wasted because of my bad choices in life

  WEREWOLF HERO

  Part 1- The move towards Harborbooth

  My name is Daniel Alton. I know, that's not much of a name, not one for a heroic person really I guess. I guess even so by definition I'm not a heroic person at all either. In fact, I'm probably the last person anyone would expect to be a heroic person. To be honest, I never expected to do anything heroic in my life, not anything on this caliber anyways. I'm a typical American boy, all things considered. I'm 19 years old, and I'm a little on the average side, standing at around 5 foot, 10 inches tall, but a bit on the skinny side. Not "extremely fit" skinny either. Just a skinny guy, who's never gained any weight, who's tried in high school cause he wanted to play sports, but never could no matter what I did. A little bit different from my best friend at the time, Devon who was fat and couldn't lose weight. I got about medium length brown hair that I like to keep combed back, and thick rimmed glasses, partly due to some sight problems that I have. All in all, I'd have to say I'm average in every way. Who knew though, that after tragedy in my life that things would change so much, and change my perception of the world all around me. Dealing with supernatural elements, such as ghosts, vampires, and of course werewolves. I mean, why not werewolves right?

  I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself I think, so I'll start at the beginning of my story so that way those of you reading this can follow along with whats going on. Don't want to lose you after all.

  It all started several months ago when I first came to Harborbooth, in upper Maine. When I first rode into town, the weather was really dark, and also really gloomy. A sort of reflection on me at the time, as well as my Dad, Timothy Alton. We rode in on a moving truck, my Uncle Richard having driven ahead of us at the time with my Dads car, and for the last, thousand or so miles we really hadn't spoken a word to each other. Don't get me wrong, I love my Dad, that's the reason at 19 years old I decided to come live with him, because he needed me, but it was on the occasion why we didn't speak. None of us just felt we really could say anything to one another. That was alright, with the silence between us, it allowed me to focus on the pattering of the rain on the windshield as I just sort of sat there, thinking about what it was that changed. You see, my Mother several months before was murdered, in cold blood. Her murderer hadn't known her, but we lived in a part of a neighborhood that was less than influential. It wasn't a ghetto, but it wasn't a suburb either. It was just rows and rows of homes on the Northern side, and it was still away from where a majority of the gang violence was located. We thought we were safe, being just an average white family, in an average neighborhood with other average people of all races and denominations. We weren't a tight knit community, but we knew each other and we made the best we could with our lives looking out for everyone, even if sometimes people got to be a little busy body. All in all, average, in every way.

  What changed though was my Mother worked as a hair dresser, and a lot of times she worked as a freelancer hairdresser, taking on clients in her free time to bring in some extra income just so we could all eat well sometimes, more than just typical "burgers and hamburger helper.". Sometimes we'd get steak, sometimes really good ice cream, just that sort of stuff. Well, she found herself working on a woman somewhere on the North West side of town, a little ways out of Chicago proper, but still close enough to be in Chicago, and found herself in a trailer park like place. A little lower scale, but a client was a client, and she wanted to look nice for a job interview she was having. She paid my mother good money, and on her way out, some neighbors of the lady were having an argument. Well, three drunk people ended up having a fist fight, and were biker like people from some local motorcycle gang, I really can't tell you which one. Words were shared, guns were pulled, and those three being drunk they shot wildly at anyone who was in the area who could report the fight to the police, or even sneak up n them in an ambush. It just so happened my Mother got caught in the cross fire, and was struck. She died, on the way to the hospital I was told. The gang members that were part of the Biker gang pleaded no contest after being arrested, and I guess are currently sitting in jail for life. I don't really keep up with it, I let my Dad focus on that.

  Needless to say, life just sort of fell into an upheaval after that. We were a happy family before that. Not rich, but Dad worked a lot of freelance work between writing, IT, painting, yard work, bar tending, cooking, etc and brought in some pretty good money surprisingly while Mom brought in some good money dressing hair, and I was working part time at a Gas station, saving up for college to do something professional, still undecided. Now it's just me, and Dad, and I suspect him of being depressed. Often having found him crying sometimes at night when he thinks I'm asleep though I never say anything to him about it. After the funeral though, on a whim Dad decided we should just pack up and move to Maine, near where his Grandparents use to live and where he'd visit when he was a kid during the summers. He said we "needed to get out of the city. Somewhere far away from the violence, where it's just quiet, and we can be happy again.". So, looking on the internet he found a small cottage on the outskirts of Harborbooth for practically a steal. He said the landlord just mostly asked for us to pay utilities, and keep the place clean and to keep up with it's upkeep, which I think we can accomplish.

  Riding into Harborbooth though though wasn't so bad. Mostly making small talk, and avoiding talking to one another for the most was starting to take it's toll on us both, and there's only so much music you can listen to while being lost in your own thoughts that you can stand. We sort of coasted in on top of a hill, overlooking the entire Bay, and the entire town was kind of nice, in a quaint little way. I guess it just looked like a lot of towns you'd expect from the New England area. Old, possibly conservative, sits on the ocean nestled up against the hills, with a bay, a pier, and everything. Main source of income is probably fishing. You can see all the historical buildings interspersed with the new buildings, and you can see the class distinctions in the area on who's possibly rich, and who's possibly not. Plus, a lot of forests as well that are still up, despite being in a developed area for nearly 300 years.

  That's not to say the town is bad of course. I guess I'm just a little on the cynical side. It did look like a lovely town. To describe it, I guess I can say it looks "round", meaning that it hugs close to the bay, which is almost perfectly spherical in a way. The buildings close to the waterfront are mostly brick and mortar, and wood, with the piers reaching out into the water like long fingers and lined to the brim with boats. Some of them looking more like rich yachts, and a lot of them looking more like fishing boats for working class fishermen. Moving up from there, the road and the main street sort of move out in a "T" fashion, with the majority of the traffic seemingly coming from out of town, possibly just passing through the town, or what I'd imagine a lot of people derisively call "tourists" that come and look at the old town that just happens to be old. The town also seems to be sort of built up in blocks that are of varying different levels on the hills, mostly seperated by streets and guard rails, while it looks like most of the business's that exist in the town are on the main street leading down to the waters edge, since that's where most of the traffic seems to converge with roadways leading back to various different residential area's, or gas stations interspersed here and there.

  Luckily, we weren't heading directly into town itself, but took a turn leading away, towards the hilly, forested area that surrounded th
e town instead. Surprisingly, a lot of the tree's seem older, and a little bit more... grand I'd say in a way. Taking a sharp turn, we headed down what seemed to be an older road, heading upwards towards the top of a small hill that overlooked a majority of the town below, going down a dirt path that I assumed was the drive way. My suspicion being correct when we came upon the cottage that was now me and Dads new home.

  It was a little underwhelming to say the least. It needed a new coat of fresh paint to it, at the least. The windows seemed to be intact, and the doors were all working, but it seemed so run down. Like no one had lived in it for years. So we walked up towards the front door, to check it out. Indeed, it needed a lot of work. Luckily, the electricity worked, and it was partially furnished, even if it was just a table with no chairs, an old couch in the living room, and an old black and white television that only worked sporadically. Appliance wise, there was just an old stove in the kitchen that only partially worked, and looked like it was bought in the 50's and left there. With a healthy layer of dust over everything, I guess it was to be home sweet home.

  Needless to say, I wasn't all that enthusiastic about the situation. I just wanted my old life back. I wanted my Mother, I wanted to be planning on college. I wanted my Dad to be happy, and I wanted this nightmare to end. I guess I wanted a lot of things, and as childish as it sounded, I guess I just wanted to kick and scream until I got my way. Reality was much different though, and I knew it. Perhaps if it was to be my new life, I needed to focus instead on my Dad. He was the only person I had left in my life at that point, and I wanted to make sure he was alright.

  Plus, at the time I figured maybe things weren't so bad. Things could still be good if we only worked at it.

  Part 2 - Meeting of Anastasia