3838 Walnut Street Pt. 01
Meet those facing the corruption on Walnut Street.
All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older. Thanks for reading!

June 26, 1954: Apartment 4F, the Lavey family

"He says such terrible things, Harold. There's an evil spirit in him, I know it." Betsy walked quickly next to her husband down their Manhattan street. She wrung her hands together, chewing on her bottom lip. "We need to bring the priest in. Billy... tried to touch me while you were at work... yesterday." That made it sound like Billy had failed. In that sense, poor Betsy had just lied to her husband, accumulating her sins.

"The boy tried to touch you?" Harold eyed his lovely wife. My son tried to lay hands on his own mother. Betsy was a beautiful brunette who had drawn male attention for the twenty years of their marriage. Harold had always been jealous, but he had never thought he'd have a problem with the lad he'd once bounced on his knee. He thought over his options. "I will not have a priest in my house," Harold grumbled and dodged to avoid a milkman hustling the other way with his arms full of jingling bottles. "There's a better solution. Billy's eighteen, it's time we kicked him out of the apartment." Harold removed his hat and fanned his face with it. He glanced at his wife and could see she was in distress. He should have acted sooner. Billy had been behaving oddly ever since they'd moved into 3838 Walnut Street. And speak of the devil, they were home. Harold turned off the sidewalk into their building, giving the doorman a nod.

"I don't know, Harold. He's still just a teenager. I think he needs our support." Betsy hustled next to her husband through the small lobby. She shivered. The relief work on the walls showed strange pagan gods, goddesses, and devils. She never liked traversing the lobby. "If we bring in the priest, and it's a -"

"No priest," Harold growled. He could be quite formidable when he wanted to be. "Billy is out as of today. He tried to touch you, Betsy. He's lucky I'm not planning to whoop him." They entered the elevator, and he hit the button for four. The doors chimed and slowly closed.

"Okay, Harold." It tore Betsy up inside to put her own son out on the street. But maybe it was for the best. He had gotten her to do unspeakable things with his penis, and she couldn't have anyone, especially Harold, finding out. She looked down at the green, geometric pattern of the carpet as they rose up the building. The doors chimed and opened. She stepped out into the hall with her husband, her high heels hushed by the carpet out in the hall.

"I might just whoop him regardless. Trying to put a hand on you." Harold's voice had fallen so low, it was barely audible.

"Please don't. He's still our baby." She followed her husband to their door, listened to his key turn in the lock, and bit her knuckle with anxiety.

Billy had known his parents were coming home ever since he'd smelled his mother exit the elevator. With his heightened senses, he could practically smell her down on the street. Especially when she was full of fear and excitement, as she was now. "Hello, Daddio. Did you know Mom's pussy is leaking? She can't wait to see her two bucks lock antlers." Billy moved from the hall, to the living room, and then into the kitchen.

"That's it. You're out, Billy!" Harold roared. "Pack your things. You're not living under my roof anymore."

Billy cackled. It seemed so odd to him that he had once been afraid of his father. Had it really been only months ago? "It's not your roof, Father, it belongs to Her." Billy laughed again, moving back into the living room. "Are you sure you want to mark the ground with your hoof like some half-creature? Once you start the ritual, only one buck can walk away with the doe."

"He means me, Harold. I'm the doe." Betsy hugged herself tightly, gripping her housedress with two fists.

"Where is he? He sounds like he's right here, but..." Harold stepped into the living room. Slowly, he removed his belt. He meant to lash some sense into his son before sending him off on his own. "Where are you?" His son's laugh was close, almost right in his ear. He could hear the boy scuttling around, it sounded like he was crawling. But Harold couldn't spot him behind the armchair or the sofa. It was a bit disconcerting.

"You've always been so close-minded, Daddio. Just try to be cool and look in a new direction," Billy said.

Slowly, Harold raised his eyes. His jaw dropped, and his belt fell to the floor. His son was squatting upside down on the ceiling. Billy's hair and clothes were affected by gravity, dangling toward the floor, but the boy was not. "Good... God..." Harold said.

"Boo!" Billy laughed as his father turned to run.

"The priest! We need..." Harold's beltless pants fell down around his ankles as he raced for the door. He tripped on them, sprawled, and hit his head on the wall. Dazed, he lay on the floor.

"Come on up, Mommio." Billy scurried across the ceiling and held a hand down to his mother.

"But... but your father? He'll see us," Betsy whispered. She was trembling, overcome by anticipation, longing, and dread.

"She wants him to see us. She wants him to serve the building." Billy's eyes glowed faintly red in the gloom of the room, and his upside-down smile wasn't a frown, but looked quite horrid regardless. When his mother offered her left hand, he didn't take it at first. Instead, he reached down and removed her wedding ring. He tossed it thoughtlessly into the corner of the living room. Then, he firmly gripped his mother's hand as if to shake it, and lifted her into the air.

When Betsy's dress fell to the floor next to Harold, he snapped back into awareness. His body was frozen, he found he could barely breathe. When he looked up, he saw his son manhandling his wife on the ceiling of their living room. It was hard to tell what was happening in the darkness. Harold was thankful he hadn't turned on a light in the room.

"Billy... you've never gone this far... before." Betsy tried to hold onto her underwear, but her son was so strong. "Billy... Billy... you were once... my sweet little boy... what have you become?"

"The father of a goddess... if all goes right." Billy tossed her panties at his father, and pulled her bra down to her belly. "Spread your legs... and become the mother you were meant to be." He lowered his trousers and underwear, and placed his back to the ceiling.

"Ohhhhh... Billy... I can't... I can't... I... oh my." Betsy's limbs and head dangled toward the floor, but she spread her legs. She looked over her shoulder at her slumped husband. She saw that he was staring at them with the most idiotic expression on his face. "Harold, if you don't do something, Billy is going to make me his doe. He's going to do it right now!" She waited for her husband to come to her rescue, while Billy maneuvered his penis between her legs. "Harold... I can see that you're awake. You need to do something before... oooohhhhhhhhhh... uuuuuggghhhhhh... too late... oooohhhhhh... gosh... it's too late... Harold... I'm sorry... I can feel him... inside me... he's so big... I... oooohhhh... gosh... I won't ever... be the same." She looked away from her husband and gazed into her son's ravenous, glowing eyes. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him hump her in midair.

"Mom... Mom... can you hear Her? Ugh... ugh... ugh..." Billy held his mother aloft with one hand on her upper back, and the other on her ass. He was a skinny teenager, and she outweighed him, but he rutted her easily.

"I can... ooohhhhhh... only... hear you... Billy... and you sound... so manly... Oh... my... I think I'm going to... eeeeiiiiiiiiiiii." Betsy orgasmed under her son.

"St... st... st..." Harold tried to croak out the words that would stop them. But he couldn't get anything out. Instead of ending the vile act, he cowered on the floor and stared at the buck that was claiming his doe.

Twenty minutes later, Betsy was a slobbering, wailing mess. She could barely comprehend the bliss she'd found between her legs. She was still limp in her son's arms, as he pulled her up into him again and again.

"Mom... it's... ugh... ugh... time... it's time... it's... aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh." Billy erupted in his mother's pussy.

"Oh... no..." Harold squeaked. It seemed he could hear the squelching rush of sperm pumping over and over into his wife's vagina. Soon, he could see the overflowing, horrid stuff dripping to the living room carpet below their unholy breeding. We should have never come to this building. It's evil. And now we're trapped.

But the building was happy to have them.

~~

September 14, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund

I've been trying to sit down for interviews with other tenants ever since I moved in a week ago. They seem standoffish and insular. It's been frustrating. After my success solving the Bloomfield Murders, I thought I might roll in here, pin some people down, and be out in a matter of weeks. But I doubt that is going to happen now. I miss Dave (my sweet fiancé is still in Connecticut). I miss my friends. I even miss my boss, Mr. Glaeser. So, I thought maybe a journal would help ease my loneliness.

Despite the building's cold shoulder, this case won't get the better of me. My plan is a good one. People wouldn't talk to a private detective agency employee. But they should talk to a college student making an oral history of the building. SHOULD TALK! They certainly are reluctant so far. The missing Ostrow family was on the tenth floor, but I'm smart enough not to start there. I've been knocking on doors on the fifth and sixth floors for starters. Then maybe I'll try going to the top, asking people on the twelfth and eleventh.

The good news is that our client seems to be patient, and she has deep pockets. I'll get to the bottom of this!

~~

September 18, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family

"This is like a dream." Darby Kwon stood at the window of their new apartment. "I can't believe we got this apartment."

"Are you going to help me unpack?" Greg walked into the living room and dropped a box on the floor.

"I'll help you, Dad." Brian stumbled into the room carrying a box that was perhaps too big for him. He dropped to his knees to unload it without breaking everything inside. He was eighteen, and his friends were all heading off to college. But he was working at a local bookstore and living with his parents to save money.

"Don't break anything, Brian." Greg frowned at his son. He was a short, bookish young man. Moving boxes wasn't his strong suit.

"It is amazing. I'm so happy for you guys." Rachel walked into the room without a box. She was starting her junior year of college in Upstate New York, but she'd come down to visit for her family's move. "How did you even score this place?"

"I honestly don't know." Darby shrugged. "Your father, Brian, and I came in for an interview. One of the tenants showed us around. We got the call that we got the place the next day. And the rent is so cheap. It's amazing!" She glanced to her left and gave a start when she saw the gargoyle posed outside her window. The ugly, devilish statues were all over the outside of the building. She didn't like them. And she didn't like the art in the lobby. But those were small prices to pay for living here.

"I can't wait to set up my computer and net-surf. We have two phone lines! I won't have to worry about hogging a line." Brian smiled at his sister.

"That's why you're happy to be here, nerd?" Rachel laughed. She went over and opened a box and started removing her mother's living room knick-knacks. "I'm hungry. Let's get the job done so we can go out to eat. I hear there's an awesome Korean barbeque two blocks down Walnut."

~~

July 29, 1994: Investigation into the disappearance of Rosalin Ekland

"I'm looking for Ms. Ekland. Have you seen her?" Nathaniel Glaeser held up his New York detective license first. Then, he held up the picture of his associate. "She was living in 9B until about a month ago." He pointed down the hall.

"Ms. Ekland? Oh, yes, nice, quiet young woman. Kept to herself." Marjorie Breaming was a pretty woman in her early 50s. She wore a housedress and kept her door open only a few inches.

"That doesn't sound like her. I suspect she would have been talking to everyone." Nathaniel frowned and put the picture away inside his jacket. "She didn't try interviewing you for her school project, Mrs. Breaming?" He could hear kids playing and screaming somewhere in the Breaming apartment.

"She seemed too old for a school project." Marjorie smiled helpfully.

"It's graduate school." He tried not to let his frustration show. "Perhaps I could talk to Mr. Breaming?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. He's busy doing chores for Her. You can't talk to him." Marjorie shook her head.

"Who?" He said.

"What?" Marjorie's smile broadened.

"Who is he doing chores for?" Nathaniel had two cases to solve in this building, and he was getting a strange vibe. He needed any information he could get.

The sounds of children playing turned into the sounds of children fighting. Marjorie looked over her shoulder behind her. "I'm sorry, the boys are getting rowdy. Good luck with your search, Mr. Glaeser." She abruptly shut the door in the detective's face.

~~

September 24, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family

"Damn... load... load." Brian glanced at his bedroom door which didn't lock. Normally, he'd wait for his parents to leave the house to masturbate. But he was impossibly horny. I'm always impossibly horny, but this is somehow even worse. He stared at the screen as his computer processed a ton of data. When it loaded, it was going to be the image of a naked, middle-aged Korean lady. For the past few days, he'd become obsessed with older women with good-sized boobs and wide hips. He refused to believe that it had anything to do with his mother. But the women that really got him off did bear a resemblance. He jacked off on his desk chair, the expectation of female nudity driving him insane. After what seemed like ages, he was staring at a woman with small nipples, big jugs, and a solid, black bush between her legs. "Oh... shit..." Ecstasy built inside him.

The door opened and Darby stepped into her son's room carrying a laundry basket. "I just came back from the basement and..." She froze. "Oh... my gosh... Brian. I'm so sorry." Her son was masturbating while looking at naughty images on his computer. And even though she was in the room, he was still masturbating. He had a nice-looking, modest penis. About the same size as his father's, it had smooth pale skin. Why am I looking at his thing? She turned crimson. "Stop touching yourself... sweetie."

"Mom... I'm so sorry... I can't stop." Brian was mortified, but he couldn't pull his hand away from his dick. He kept pumping himself while his mother stared at what he was doing. His gaze fell to the curve of her sweater. He bet she had bigger tits than the model on his screen.

"Teenagers... I was warned about teenage boys. Goodness." Darby covered her eyes and took a step back. "I'll give you your privacy. And... I'll knock next time." She stepped back into the hall and closed his door. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she was perspiring. "That was so... odd. But I'm sure it happens to lots of mothers." She straightened her dress and walked down the hall. He's lucky it was me that walked in and not his father. I can only imagine that man's wrath. She shook her head and tried to laugh it off.

~~

January 11, 2015: Apartment 12C, the Marland family

"Slow down, sport." Gabe Marland watched his son polish off his third plate of pancakes. "You've been the most finicky eater your whole life, and suddenly you'll eat anything... and everything."

"He loves his mom's cooking." Carrie Marland smiled indulgently at her son. "Let Joey eat." She took his empty plate and served her son some more.

"Brain food... big calc test... this week," Joe said between bites. Although, he had been eating a ton for weeks now. So, it wasn't the test. He eyed his mother, his gaze drawn to her bra strap as it ran over her shoulder, exposed by the scoop top. He kept shoveling food into his mouth while staring at her delicate freckled shoulder. His mother was a tall, athletic brunette woman. He had passed her in height a few years ago, but he wasn't nearly as athletic as she was. Or his father for that matter. Or his older brothers. His gaze followed the bra strap down and stopped on the swell of her boobs under her top.

"What, do I have a stain?" Carrie looked down at her top. It seemed fine. When she looked back at her son, he wasn't looking at her anymore. He'd been behaving so odd lately. She forced a smile. "There's an open apartment on our floor, and they're showing it to a family tomorrow. Mrs. Creech asked if we'd be willing to show them around."

"What? We barely know the building yet. Why would we do that?" Joe shook his head.

"They have twins your age who would be transferring to your school. I think Mrs. Creech likes the family, and wants them to choose our building. It wouldn't be a bad thing to do a favor for the building manager." Carrie raised her eyebrows hopefully. "The tour is at three-thirty today. You'd be home from school by then, sweetie."

"I'll be at work." Gabe kept long hours at the law firm where he'd just made partner.

"I know, dear." Carrie patted her husband's arm affectionately. "Will you help me show this nice family around, Joey?"

"Fine." Joe shrugged. "These kids better not be assholes."

"Language." Gabe frowned at his son.

"I'm sure you'll get along great with them." Carrie stood. "Oh, look at the clock. My men better get to work and school. And I'm going to be late on my first day volunteering at the church."

The Marland family rushed around the apartment and out the door.

~~

September 29, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund

Finally, I met someone who is willing to talk about more than the weather. His name is Brian Kwon and he lives with his parents in 12C. Of course, I don't know how helpful he'll be. He's only nineteen, and his family moved in recently, long after the Ostrows disappeared. But at least I have a contact, and maybe he'll lead me to other people willing to talk. At times, I feel like everyone knows why I'm here. Of course, that's impossible. We were very careful.

There are a few oddities in the building. I did some snooping in the basement. I can't seem to find the mechanical room. There's just laundry and a couple small rooms for storage. I can't even find a locked door that might hide the furnace, etc. Also, I studied the building from the outside. I count thirteen stories. The top floor isn't twelve as the elevator and stairs would have you believe. There is a locked door labeled roof access at the end of the hall on twelve. I assume Mrs. Creech has a key, but she tells me tenants are not allowed on the roof.

I did some sketches of the reliefs on the walls of the lobby. I plan to stop by the library and see what I can make of them. The depictions are very unusual for a building constructed in the 1930s. I do wonder if they were added in later decades. But, of course, no one will talk to me about that. Not even any of the doormen.

~~

January 11, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families

"Hi. I'm Abshir Dahir and this is my sister, Hani." Abshir stuck out his hand. The boy who was going to show them around was everything Abshir wasn't. Joe was pale, tall, had longish blond hair, and was thin. Abshir was dark, short, with close-cropped black hair, and a few extra pounds. To add to the differences, Abshir and his sister were dressed formally, while the boy in front of them slouched in a t-shirt and jeans. Abshir and his sister wore glasses, and their guide did not. I could go on, but I just really want him to shake my hand so we can get this over with.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Joe." Joe shook Abshir's hand, and then reached his hand out to Hani. She shook it tentatively. Joe tried not to stare at her hijab. It wasn't that unusual in New York, he supposed. He stuffed his hands back in his pockets and looked back at Abshir. "Your name rhymes. I like it." He offered an awkward smile.

"Thanks." Abshir smiled back.

Hani turned her head and rolled her eyes.

"So, I guess my mom is showing around your parents." Joe turned and looked over at the olds. Abshir and Hani's mother was wearing a hajib, too. "What do you want to see first?"

"Can you tell us about the art in the lobby?" Abshir looked thoughtfully at the nearby depiction of a partially clothed man and woman talking to a creature with the head of a wolf, but the body of a man. No, they aren't talking to it. They're making an offering. He couldn't tell what was in the bundle they held out to it. Behind the wolf-headed man, a tall, zaftig woman stood in robes, giving the offering a beatific smile.

"Nope. I can't tell you anything." Joe followed Abshir's gaze and shivered. "I just walk past them as quickly as I can." He turned away from the art. "How about the laundry room?" Waving them out of the lobby, he led them toward the basement.

By the time Joe was showing them around the 12th floor, all three teenagers were more relaxed. They cracked a few jokes. Joe offered to introduce them to his friends if they ended up at his school. When he found out they liked video games, he invited them over if they moved in down the hall. He even offered to help them move.

The Dahir twins were now hoping they got apartment 12E.

~~

September 26, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family

"Hey, Brian. Wait up!" Rosalin waved her hand, but Brian didn't see her as he walked out the front door. She hustled across the lobby after him, chuckling to herself. She was too old to be chasing teenage guys around. It's not like my fiancé would mind. I'm only befriending Brian Kwon to find a missing family.

The doorman opened the door for her. "Thank you, James." Rosalin smiled at the doorman and raced past. She was immediately accosted by the echoing sounds of construction, car horns, and people. So many people.

Looking to the left, she spotted Brian's black hair disappearing through the throng of people on the sidewalk. Rosalin crossed her arms over her chest so people wouldn't see her bouncing through her sweater. It took her less than a minute to catch up to Brian. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned toward her with a smile.

"Oh, hey, Rosalin." Brian removed the headphones for his Walkman and pressed stop on the cassette.

"I'm headed this way. I'll walk with you." Rosalin fell in next to him as they strolled down Walnut Street. "What are you listening to?"

"Nirvana." Brian glanced at her to judge her reaction.

"Oh... rad... I love them," she lied. Rosalin had heard them on the radio and thought they were a little melodramatic.

"Cool... cool." Brian nodded and smiled. "Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting my fiancé at the library," she said. "How about you?"

"Band practice at a friend's place." He lifted up his trumpet case for her to see. "Isn't the library the other way?"

"Oh, I just wanted to catch up with you for a minute." She patted him on the shoulder.

Brian hoped he wasn't blushing too profusely. He tried to swallow the goofy grin that wanted to plaster itself on his face. "Sure," he said cooly.

"Hey, Brian, have you noticed anything odd about the building? Maybe heard anything weird about former tenants?" She studied him with side-eye.

"Yeah, actually." Brian adjusted the trumpet case in his hand. "I did notice something odd."

Rosalin's heart sped up. Finally, I'm about to get a clue.

"There's this freakish mold growing in the laundry room." He turned left down the next street, and she stayed right by his side.

"Oh, really?" Rosalin deflated. Not much of a clue. "I didn't notice it."

"You wouldn't unless you were there with the lights off." Brian thrust out his jaw, proud of the observation. "It's bioluminescent or something. It glows faintly red in the dark. I like to listen to music with the lights off, so when Mom made me go dump a few loads in the washing machines, I turned off the lights and..."

"That's... rad... Brian. Maybe you can show me sometime?" Rosalin patted his shoulder again. She would definitely not be going to the basement with the lights off. Not with him or anyone else. Even if he was a sweet kid. "Okay, gotta go. I'll check ya later." She peeled off down the stairs to a subway entrance.

"Bye, Rosalin." Brian waved but she was already gone. He thought things over in his head as he walked along. He was pretty sure he'd never tell a soul, but there were a few other weird things about 3838 Walnut. For example, how hungry he'd been since moving there. And how he couldn't stop thinking about how hot his mother was. But maybe the building had nothing to do with it. Maybe he was just starting a very late growth spurt? He wouldn't mind that. And his body was coursing with hormones. Maybe he was just fixating on his mom because she was always around. It wasn't like he didn't find other women hot. Rosalin was awesome. And...

"Shit." Brian was suddenly popping a boner. And it hurt! He knelt next to a fire hydrant and pretended to tie his shoes while surreptitiously adjusting his dick. His erections had been really painful lately. Another odd thing that he was sure he'd never tell anyone about.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 02-03
The hunger grows.
All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older. Thanks for reading!

3838 Walnut Street Chapter 2

December 12, 1939: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family

"Come and help them, Mr. and Mrs. Creech. It's a heavy crate, and these men need guidance. Men always need guidance." Elizabeth Norwood stood in the lobby of 3838 Walnut Street, supervising the crew as they moved the large, wooden crate through the front door.

"What did you purchase this time, dear?" Floyd Norwood exited the elevator and walked over to his wife.

"You've come to meet me, darling?" Elizabeth smiled at her husband.

"I was on my way for my evening constitutional." Floyd was headed down the street to the tavern. He stepped aside to let the workmen pass. He sighed at the dirty men and looked away, admiring the simple, wallpapered walls of the lobby. His wife had filled their apartment with so much clutter, he hardly remembered what their own wallpaper looked like. "What is it, and how much did it cost me?"

"A fertility statue from the Kingdom of Hungary. It's quite old. One of a kind, the gallery said." Elizabeth smiled warmly.

"How much?" Floyd frowned.

"Eight-hundred and thirty-nine dollars." Elizabeth's smile flickered.

The workmen paused and looked back at Elizabeth, amazement on their faces. That was an annual salary to them.

"Keep going, you fools. You heard the missus. It's a rare item. So, don't break it or it will be coming out of your pocketbooks." Natalie Creech shooed the workmen on, sending them toward the elevator.

Floyd whistled. "You'll be the ruin of us, dear." He shook his head at his wife.

"Don't stay out too late drinking, darling." Elizabeth kissed her husband on the cheek and followed the workmen to the elevator. They were holding the door for her, but she waved them up. "Go ahead, I'll catch the next one." She stood as the Creeches, the workmen, and the statue went up to the fourteenth floor. She winced a little, listening to the elevator strain. But thankfully it seemed to perform its duty with aplomb.

~~

September 27, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund.

It was lovely to see Dave. He was so sweet for making the trip down and meeting me in the library. Afterward, he took me out for sushi! I was sad to see him go, but I can't very well take him back to my apartment.

We didn't find much with my sketches of the lobby reliefs. There was a book that the librarian thought would help titled Early Pagan Art. I put in a request and hopefully they'll have a copy for me soon.

I keep thinking about Brian's goofy smile when he found out I was walking with him just to talk. I don't know why my mind is fixating on it. He's nineteen and harmless. But... thinking about that smile makes me warm inside. Can you imagine if I developed a crush on a nerdy teenager? Don't laugh, Diary. Dave wouldn't like that. On the other hand, I don't have a crush, so I don't think Dave would mind if I let Brian show me his glowing mold in the basement. Not a euphemism. It could be a clue as to what happened to the Ostrows.

~~

June 28, 1954: Apartment 4F, the Lavey family.

The second Harold entered his apartment, he could hear the loud, rhythmic thumping. He knew what his wife and son were doing. They had been doing it almost constantly for the last two days. Slowly, he closed the front door and walked to his bedroom. The door was closed. His heart pounded in his ears and perspiration beaded his forehead. There was a low growling sound that he knew to be Billy. That was accompanied by some high-pitched whimpering. Betsy sounded like an injured puppy. Harold knocked. "Betsy... are you okay?"

"F... f... fffiiiiiiinnneee... Harold." Betsy was naked on her back, her feet high in the air, toes curling. The curtains were drawn in her bedroom, and the lights were out. A little bit of daylight filtered in through the curtains, allowing her to see the deep concentration on her son's face, and the intensity in his faintly glowing eyes.

"Have... um... have you eaten today?" Harold had slept in his son's room the last two nights. He hadn't seen his wife since dinner the night before.

"Yesssssssssss." Betsy's breakfast and lunch had been sperm. Thankfully, her son seemed to produce enough to sustain her. She arched her back as her son's penis bore its way into her soul. "Harold... ooohhhhhhh... Harold... Billy is hitting... something... deep inside... me. Eeeeeiiiiiiiiiiii!"

"Do you need a priest, Betsy? Is it time?" Harold didn't have the strength to go get outside help. Not on his own. But maybe if his wife asked for it, he could get someone to stop the madness. The banging from his room got louder as his wife shrieked and screamed. She sounded like she was being murdered. Harold opened the door. Maybe if she needed him enough, he could be the hero she needed. The door creaked open, and Harold stood slack-jawed. "Betsy... oh... no... Betsy." His wife looked possessed, her blond hair whipping back and forth. Her face was a sweaty, semen-soaked mess. Her beautiful breasts lurched on her chest in rhythm to Billy's slamming hips. "Your breasts... Betsy... I thought you said... you would keep your top on."

Billy leaned forward, growled, and stuffed his mother's tit into his mouth. While looking at his father, he chewed on her nipple.

"Oooohhhhhh... Harold... this is your fault... your fault... you wanted to confront Billy... buck to buck... and now... and now... ooohhhhhhhh." Betsy's eyes went vacant as she looked at her husband.

Billy spit out the nipple. "And now... ugh... ugh... ugh... Mom is living life fuck to fuck." Billy could smell his father's cowardice. "Go make dinner... Daddio... ugh... ugh... ugh... Mom and I... are starving." He laughed as his father ran from the doorway.

Harold didn't really know how to cook, but he couldn't let Her down. He did his best in the kitchen while trying not to listen to his headboard banging against the wall, his son's grunts, or his wife's ecstatic wails.

~~

December 24, 1939: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"Come sit by the tree, dear. The fire's roaring." Floyd could only see the back of his wife. She was on the other side of the living room, staring at her collection.

"She needs roots... she needs... she needs..." Elizabeth whispered. She stood unsteadily, swaying back and forth as she stared at the rough-hewn statue of a goddess. The Hungarian Lady, as the Norwoods had taken to calling their newest acquisition. She had been somewhat awkwardly cut from a strange granite that had crimson veins woven throughout the crystal. The goddess had been depicted as outlandishly proportioned, with generous breasts and hips. The bottoms of her sturdy legs disappeared into her stone pedestal. Her hair was long, and she seemed completely unadorned. All of this had led experts to call her a fertility goddess. But Elizabeth knew they were wrong.

"Liz? Can you hear me?" Floyd downed the rest of his brandy and stood. "It's Christmas Eve, darling. Come sit by the fire." Her dress glittered as he moved across the room. Her hair was up, and she wore her best jewelry. But his wife seemed hardly into the festivities. He put his hand on her arm and quickly drew it away. His palm and fingers came away wet. She was perspiring profusely, and her skin felt like she was burning up. "Liz? Are you ill?"

Elizabeth's face snapped toward her husband. She let out a quick snarl and then laughed to cover it up. "I'm fine, darling." She smiled and giggled, her high voice tittering in the bright room. Candles were on the tree and glowing brightly in the dark windows. They all guttered, responding to some unfelt breeze, but didn't go out. She skipped to one of the armchairs and sat. "Mrs. Creech? Fetch me some sausages. I'm starving."

"We just ate supper." Floyd wiped his hand off on the trousers of his fine suit. "And you ate a schooner-full at the table."

"I'm hungry," Elizabeth growled. A dark cloud spread across her face, dampening her pretty features. It then quickly passed, and she laughed again. "There's some sort of mold on the statue. I'd like to collect it."

"Which statue?" Floyd frowned. "And we should kill the mold, not collect it."

"The Statue, Floyd. Don't be a doofus." Elizabeth shook her head like she pitied her husband. When Natalie Creech rushed in with a tray of sausages, Elizabeth clapped her hands. "You're a lifesaver, Mrs. Creech."

"Anything for you, ma'am." Natalie delivered the sausages and stepped back, watching her mistress tear into her snack like a ravenous animal. Natalie looked away, her eyes falling on the new statue across the room. The strange goddess made her feel queasy to look at, but it was better than keeping her eyes on Elizabeth.

Floyd grabbed Natalie's arm and pulled her into the kitchen. "I need you to fetch a doctor, Mrs. Creech. And I'm afraid we'll need your services throughout the night."

"But Mr. Creech will be expecting me home." Natalie frowned.

"Perhaps you should send for him, too. We'll need all hands on deck until Mrs. Norwood is feeling better. Surely, you've noticed something's amiss." Floyd peeked out into the living room, where his wife was noisily munching on her meal.

"Yes, sir. I'll stay until she's better." Mrs. Creech rushed off to send for a doctor and her husband.

~~

September 29, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"Oh, hi, sweetie." Darby walked into the kitchen to find her son raiding the cabinets. "How did that job interview go?" She watched him rip open a bag of chips and shovel them into his mouth. Her lip curled, and she looked away. Teenage boys. It occurred to her how odd it had been that he was a model teenager all the way up until nineteen, and now, with months to go on his teenage years, she was catching him masturbating and raiding the fridge like a beast. Why are the troubles starting now?

"I nailed... the interview... Mom," Brian said with his mouth full.

"Can you stop eating for a moment and talk to me?" She really didn't want to make a disgusted face at her sweet son, but he wasn't giving her much choice. "You're behaving like a monkey."

"Sorry... Mom... can't stop... too hungry... and I'm going out... soon." He kept shoveling chips into his mouth. Crunching sounds filled the kitchen. "Ooo... ooo... ooo... aaah... aaah... aaah." He made monkey noises, and then looked down at the empty bag. "So hungry." He wiped crumbs off his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled at his mother. It took him a moment to realize he'd been staring at the lovely curve her boobs made under her sweater.

"You're going out?" Darby crossed her arms over her chest to block his view. He wasn't even trying to hide his ogling. More teenage boy repulsiveness. "Are you seeing a girl?" She tried not to get her hopes up.

"Yeah... Mom." Brian went back into the cupboard and pulled out a bag of turkey jerky. He ripped it open, pulled out a piece, and gnawed on it. He watched his mom as he chewed, his eyes moving to the way her jeans hugged her hips. "But it's not like... a date... or anything. It's that woman I told you... about. The one in... 9B."

"Well, even if it's not a date, at least you're spending time with a girl." Darby shook her head. "Don't behave like this in front of her."

"Yeah... sure, Mom." Brian glanced at his mother's face and was suddenly struck by her beauty. "Shit!" His dick sprung into a painful erection. He turned away from his mother so she wouldn't see the tent in his pants.

"Language, Brian." Darby sighed. "I swear, if you tried to pull some of the stuff you pull on me with your father, he'd kick you out of the apartment." She watched him gnaw on his jerky, facing the wall. She couldn't bear the sight anymore so without another word she left to go do some chores elsewhere in the apartment.

When his mother was gone, Brian tossed the rest of the jerky back onto the shelf and raced to his room. He needed to jerk it before seeing Rosalin. Otherwise, he suspected he'd never lose his boner.

~~

"I don't see anything." Rosalin studied the concrete of the laundry room wall. The room was filled with the rhythmic whirring and clanking of washing machines and dryers in use. She ran her finger over the wall where there was the impression of formwork. A quick shiver shook her whole body, and she pulled her hand back like she'd been stung. But, of course, she'd only felt the rough wall.

When she looked over at him, and they made eye contact, Brian blushed. "I told you, Rosalin, we have to turn the lights out." I'm alone in the laundry room with a beautiful girl. "Do you... um... want me to turn out the lights?" He fiddled with the headphones to his Walkman, which were currently around his neck. "If you're scared, you could hold my hand."

She would ignore that. "I heard some of the tenants talking about services at 'the chapel'. Do you know if there's a chapel in the building?" Dave wouldn't mind that I'm here. I know he wouldn't. Brian's harmless.

"A chapel?" Brian shook his head. "Never heard of it. But I'm new here, too. Maybe it's on the thirteenth floor?"

"Tenants aren't allowed up there, so I don't think so." She leaned her butt against the washing machine behind her. Its vibrations moved wonderfully through her body.

"Should I turn out the lights?" Brian held his hand out to her. He had never been this forward with a woman before.

Rosalin reached out her left hand and took Brian's hand. "It is a bit scary down here."

"It is." Brian noticed her glittering engagement ring. "So... you must really like your fiancé."

Rosalin laughed. "I love him more than anything. Dave is so strong and sweet and gallant." She gave Brian an appraising look as he led her by the hand to the light switch. "You're a lot like Dave, you know."

"Thanks." Brian's cheeks turned even more crimson. He quickly switched off the lights to hide them.

"I don't see anything." Rosalin squeezed his hand tighter. She found it to be a bit clammy, but she didn't mind.

"Give your eyes a minute to adjust." Brian squeezed her hand back. It was electrifying to touch a woman. He hadn't done much of that in high school. And he didn't have many opportunities to meet women now. It felt almost like he could feel literal sparks. He breathed in and took in the scents in the darkness. He could smell the saccharine sweetness of someone's dryer sheets, the floral touch of Rosalin's modestly applied perfume, and something else. I can smell her. She's excited and afraid. Why can I smell that? He blinked his eyes a few times. "There... do you see that?" He pulled her through the darkness, holding his free hand out so he didn't bump into anything.

The machines hummed and whirred around them.

"Oh... I see it. It's so faint." Rosalin sucked in her breath. The glow is beautiful. "What would you call it? Carmine?"

"Sure... that's a color... sure." Brian was suddenly having a hard time concentrating. He heard a woman's voice... a mother's voice, but not his mother. The woman was calling to him... offering him safety and protection.

"Here me... Brian Kwon... I am Ogganse." Ogganse sang her beguiling song from the other side. "All will be right... in my arms. You are the young stag... you are my salvation. You will sire a goddess."

"Brian... Brian... are you okay?" Rosalin squeezed his hand so hard she heard a crack. He wasn't responding to her. Now is not the time to panic. "Say something, please."

"I feel... very strange... Rosalin." With strength he didn't know he had, Brian pulled her into an embrace. She was four inches taller than him, so kissing her was a bit awkward, but he lifted himself onto his toes and planted his lips on hers.

Now it's time to panic! "Mmmpppphhhhh!" The teenager's tongue was in her mouth! Rosalin pushed him away, turned, and crashed into the folding table. She fell to her knees, her eyes wide in the dark. The carmine glow seemed to be pulsing like a human heart. She had thought it beautiful a moment before, but now she found it hideous. "Help... help!" She had brought the Bloomfield Murderer to justice, and now she was crawling through the dark trying to escape a five-foot-five, horny teenager. Get a grip!

"Rosalin... oh, my God. I'm so sorry." Brian groped in the dark. "I didn't mean to... I..." His hand found her jean-clad ass as she crawled away, and she let out a horrible shriek. He pulled his hand back. "I'm so sorry... we were just looking at the red glow... and it felt right." He couldn't hear Ogganse's voice anymore. Did I ever hear it? "Look, you don't need to scream. I'll get the lights." He moved in the right direction, found the wall, found the switch, and turned the lights back on. When he saw the look of confusion and anger on Rosalin's face, he wished he had left them both in darkness. "I'm... sorry."

"We just got done talking about Dave. Brian... I'm so disappointed in you. Please, don't talk to me... ever again." Rosalin stood up, raced to the door, opened it, and disappeared.

"Shit!" Brian felt terrible. And to make matters worse, he had another painful erection. They had been hurting so much lately. He gave her a minute to escape, and then raced back to his apartment to have a shameful jerkoff.

~~

February 5, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

"You boys are eating up a storm." Uba brought another plate of hummus and pita for her son and Joe. She frowned as they tore into her latest offering, but she was happy that her twins had found a friend right down the hall. She made eye contact with her daughter, who was playing video games with the boys. Hani rolled her eyes at her mother. Uba smiled at that. Even if the boys were slovenly sometimes, she was glad her daughter wasn't left out. And glad that Hani had a sense of humor about them. Uba and Hani were both wearing long, dark dresses and their hijabs since Joe was visiting. "Anything else I can get you three?"

"No... thanks... Mom," Abshir said between bites.

Joe made himself put down the pita and finish chewing. It wasn't easy. He smiled at Uba. "You're the best, Mrs. Dahir. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Joey." Uba glanced at the video game they were playing. She didn't approve, but one had to pick one's battles as a mother. She turned and walked out of the room.

Joe watched his friends' mom leave the room. Her modest clothes and hijab couldn't completely hide her curves and beauty. He tried not to stare at her ass as it rolled with each step. He grimaced. Another painful boner hit him. He should have known better than to ogle that woman.

"Did you just pop a woody because of my mom?" Hani looked at their guest from her languid position on the armchair, her face full of wonder.

"Hani!" Abshir's eyes opened wide. His sister said the most tawdry things, but this was beyond even her. Despite his shock, he tore off another piece of pita and put it in his mouth.

"Shit... I didn't mean to." Joe grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa next to him and put it on his lap.

"I'm sorry, Abshir, but that's pretty crazy." Hani giggled. "Can you imagine Mom being spank bank material?" Hani looked over at her brother. "

"I'm sorry." Joe wiped his forehead. He was sweating. He'd been doing that a lot lately. It's like his body thought he was running a marathon when he was sitting still.

"Seriously, Joe, don't worry about it. You're eighteen. I'm sure every woman who breathes near you makes you pop one." Hani gave him a knowing smile.

"You know what? I have to go." Joe put down the controller. "I just remembered I have... homework." He stood awkwardly, holding the pillow in front of his junk. "Um..."

"Damn, just take the pillow. You can give it back to us later." Hani shook her head and laughed.
"Sorry." Joe tried not to make eye contact with his friends. "Bye." He rushed out of the room and out of their apartment.

Despite the insanity, Abshir was still eating. "I can't believe you... sometimes. What if you... scared him away? He's my... friend," he said. He looked down at the tray to see the food was gone.

"Boys like it when you're straight with them. And he's not just your friend. He's our friend." Hani watched her brother get up. "Do you have a woody, too? Holy shit."

"I'll be in my room." Abshir hurried off.

"We're only halfway through this level," Hani called after him. "You can't just leave every time you need to..." She put down the controller. "Maybe it's better if you do leave every time you have to... you know," she whispered.

Uba stuck her head in the doorway. "Did Joey leave?"

"Yeah, Mom. He got all flustered by how hot you are." Hani laughed.

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that." Uba frowned, pressing her dark lips together. "And your brother?"

"He's... taking a nap." Hani winked.

"You are too much. We aren't supposed to think about them thinking and doing those things." Uba sighed. "You're never going to find a husband if you keep behaving like this."

"Maybe I don't want a husband." Hani arched an eyebrow.

"Crazy girl." Uba walked into the room and started stacking empty dishes. "Come on, help me clean up."

"That's just what I'm talking about." Hani stood and helped her mother. "I'm not really interested in spending my life cleaning up after men."

"Then you picked the wrong planet to live on." Uba nudged her daughter's narrow hip with her wide one and smiled. "I should check with Joey's mother to make sure he got home okay."

"Mom, he lives like thirty feet down the hall." Hani walked into the kitchen.

"Still." Uba was used to suburban living. For her, old habits died hard.

~~

"Yes, he walked in a few minutes ago. He's in his room." Carrie spoke to her neighbor on the phone. "Yes, I think he had a great time. We'll invite your twins over here next time. Yes... yes... sure thing, Uba... sounds good. Bye." Carrie disconnected and put her phone on the counter. "Joey? Hey, Joey?" She called across the apartment. "Mrs. Dahir said you left in a hurry. Everything okay?"

There was no answer. She walked across the apartment, stopping in front of her own bedroom. The view of the park always took her breath away. She would never grow tired of living at 3838 Walnut. Carrie continued down the hall and knocked on her son's door. "I'm coming in." She gave him a moment and opened the door. Her son was sitting at his desk with his computer monitor off. Even so, he seemed to be studying it closely. "Joey?"

"Hey, Mom." He tried to be nonchalant as he turned toward her. His breath caught in his throat. His mother was wearing a tight sweater that accentuated her usually unassuming boobs and hugged her trim belly. Her mom-jeans sat perfectly on her hips. "I... um... I... um..." He desperately fought the urge to pull down his pants and continue what he'd been doing before she knocked.

"Are you okay, sweetie? You have the strangest expression on your face." Carrie walked over to him and put her hand on his forehead. "Oh, my. You're burning up and sweating." She removed her hand and wiped it on her jeans. "Let's get you into bed." She pulled him up onto his feet. When she did that, his pants, which were not buttoned, fell down his thighs. She looked down to see his member valiantly pushing at his boxers. "Oh... well... you can get yourself into bed." She quickly turned to the door. "I can see you're having a teenage moment."

"Sorry, Mom." Joe had been apologizing a lot in the past hour. "But I don't feel sick." He actually felt great. He could hear her heart rate thump madly as she paused in the doorway and looked back, her gaze on his underwear. He could smell fear on her. She was afraid that something was wrong with him. "I've never been better, Mom."

Mother and son stood in silence for a few moments, their gazes not meeting, but instead looking where they shouldn't look.

"Um... I feel a bit strange myself. Maybe we're both coming down with something." Carrie backed out of the door. "Get in bed, and I'll check on you in a little bit. I don't think you'll be going to school tomorrow."

"Sure, Mom." Joe nodded. When she'd left and closed the door, he sat back at his desk and turned on his monitor. His dick was immediately in his hand as he restarted the video.

~~

September 29, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund.

My mind is spinning. I keep thinking about Brian. I'm bewildered. My thoughts flip from Dave to Brian to Dave and so on. And then, when I close my eyes, I see the image of those two stags on the wall of the lobby. The animals have magnificent antlers and are about to charge. A herd of does watch them. The mother and wolf-headed man that appear all over the walls, appear there, too, watching the confrontation. I feel like I'm on a bad trip.

I'm not a little schoolgirl. I'm on my way to making a name for myself. I will find the Ostrows. Tomorrow, I'll redouble my efforts to uncover clues. In the meantime, my hands are trembling. I think I'll open a bottle of wine and try to lose myself in some television. Maybe a show with wildlife.

3838 Walnut Street Chapter 3

February 6, 2015: Apartment 12C, the Marland family.

"Joey... are you up yet?" Carrie knocked on her son's door. He'd suffered from a fever the night before, so she wasn't surprised he was sleeping in. When she got no answer to several more knocks, she let herself into his room. It was dark and musty in there. It was redolent of sweat and other male teenager scents. It should have made her want to gag, but instead, she breathed in deeply. She stood just inside the doorway, huffing the air in her son's room for several minutes before catching herself in the act. She shook her head and focused on his bed. The curtains were drawn, so the only light fell in through the open door.

Joey lay naked on his stomach with no blanket. His slim, pale form was covered in beaded perspiration. He snored loudly.

"You're going to miss school, Joey." Carrie breathed deeply again. That smell. It's like my sweet little boy has turned into a beast at eighteen. Her knees were weak. "Maybe you should miss school." She walked over to him and shook his shoulder. His skin was clammy and scalding. "Joey? Oh... my!" In a flash, her son had flipped over and grabbed her wrist. He was snarling at her. She recoiled, but his grip was strong. He easily held her by the bed.

"Grrrrrrrrr." Joe had been dreaming about bounding through a forest, chased by a pack of wolves. In the dream, he had leapt over fallen logs and dodged around tree trunks effortlessly. He blinked and returned to waking life. His growl subsided. "Mom?" He could smell her fear. He saw that he was gripping her wrist and quickly let go. "What's going on?"

Carrie stumbled backward. She caught her balance in the middle of the room and put a hand to her chest. She made a fist clutching her loose sweater. She wiped his sweat from her other hand on the leg of her yoga pants. "What's going on?" She suddenly became aware that his penis was exposed. Despite his fever, he was sporting morning wood. "Oh... gosh... cover that up." But neither of them moved as she stared at it. For a moment, she thought the whole thing was pulsing with the beat of his heart in the most horrible way. She blinked. It was only a normal penis. Perhaps a bit small. Not frightening. Not frightening!

"What... oh... shit." Joe pulled his blanket from the floor and covered himself.

"I'm calling the school. You're staying home, and so am I. You are obviously out of sorts." Carrie backed toward the doorway.

"I thought you were volunteering today." Joey scratched his head in confusion.

"This is more important." Carrie frowned. "I'll make you a healthy breakfast. I'll bring it to you in bed."

"No... I feel good, Mom." It was true. He felt great. "I can go to school."

"No..." Carrie shook her head. "No school. But if you feel up to it, clean yourself up and come to the kitchen when you're ready." She quickly turned and fled.

~~

Carrie watched in horror as her son devoured plate after plate of whatever she put in front of him. "What on Earth is going on with you?" Finally, he pushed his plate away, and she sat at the table with him, sipping coffee. She watched him drink a glass of orange juice and refill it.

Once he was done gulping down the juice, Joe smacked his lips. "I don't know. I feel great."

"You do look better." Carrie smiled at him. He was practically glowing now that he'd been fed. She got up and put her hand on his forehead. "Your fever's gone." She looked at the clock. "Well, maybe we should do something together. Do you feel like you could manage a jog in the park?" She had often gone on runs with his brothers, but Joe had always declined exercise. She expected him to decline her again. But it never hurt to ask. They were a family of athletes with one exception. "I'm sure you'll need to put all the food you just ate to good use."

"Yeah." Joe laughed. "I need to move. Let's go for a run in the park. Let me get dressed." He jumped up from the table and ran off to his bedroom.

Carrie shook her head and went to put her running things on.

Ten minutes later, mother and son were heading down in the elevator. Carrie glanced at him. "You still feel good? You look... really healthy." She had been worried he might be sick for days just a few hours ago. Now he had the energy of a sprinter waiting for his mark.

"I feel as good as I look." He laughed and smacked her butt.

"Oh!" Carrie's eyes went wide. "Joey... you can't..." The doors opened, and he sprung out into the lobby. He dashed past the reliefs on either wall. Carrie had to jog to catch up with him. "Hello, Greg," she nodded to the doorman who held the door for them. He was a friendly older gentleman of Korean descent.

"Mrs. Marland." Greg tipped his cap to her.

Suddenly, Carrie was out on the busy sidewalk, dodging pedestrians to keep up with her son. Despite her efforts, he was always a few paces ahead of her. "Wait... Joey... Jeez!" She watched him cut across traffic and head into the park. She jogged down to the crosswalk, waited for the light, and followed him. She found him waiting for her, jogging in place on the snow-covered grass.

"You're getting too old, Mom. You can't keep up with a young buck like me." It felt incredible to move his body.

"I'm not. And... you're not... not a... wait!" Carrie was already panting when he took off down the path through the park. She followed him, watching his skinny butt move in his sweatpants. She had to laugh, even if she could barely spare the oxygen. She had thought that Joe was the black sheep, but it seemed he was just like his brothers. It made sense, she and Gabe had always been physical.

Maybe Joe had a point. Carrie did feel a tad too old, trying to chase her lithe son. He moved with such grace and ease. Eventually, he stopped for her under the bare branches of a cherry tree. She immediately slowed to a walk and put her hands behind her ponytail, sucking in the cold, February air. "Wow... Joey... you must have been... training... while I wasn't watching."

Joe flashed her a smile. He was also breathing hard and sweating. I'm finally sweating for the right reasons. He shook his head at how odd the day had been so far. "I think I'm just... growing into myself or something. You look great in your jogging outfit, by the way. You're still an athlete... Mom." She wore yoga pants and an athletic top. Despite his teasing from before, she wasn't too old for anything. She looked like the perfect, toned woman. He caught himself wondering about how toned she really was... what she'd look like naked. With her nipples protruding through the fabric of her top as they were, he could almost imagine it.

"Thank you... Joey." Carrie smiled warmly. "Let's go... a little farther... before we turn back... and go easy on this old lady."

"Sure, Mom." Joe eased into a slower jog next to his mother. It had been fun to outrun her, but it was also fun to chat and steal glances of her bouncing bust out of the corner of his eye.

"So... Joey... you've been spending... a lot of time... with the Dahirs. Hani isn't... too forward... for you?" Carrie loved chatting with her son. How odd that she'd find herself jogging with him after all that had happened. How had her day turned out perfect after so many misfires?

"You noticed that about Hani, huh?" Joey laughed. He found that he was barely breathing hard at the slower pace, but he could hear his mother huffing and puffing as she blew ragged puffs of mist. "Hani's cool. And she's pretty."

Carrie raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. "Is there... a twelfth floor... romance... blooming?"

"No, Mom." Joey shook his head and took a quick peek at his bouncing mother.

"Well, prom is... on the horizon... is there anyone... you might ask?" Carrie felt wonderful. Her son was opening up to her. And they were exercising together. What a splendid Friday!

"I don't know... I've hooked up with some girls... at parties. Maybe... one of them?" He shrugged and jogged closer to his mother to avoid a mother with a stroller heading the other way.

"Joey Marland! I thought... you were maybe... not interested in girls."

"I like girls... Mom. Sometimes, lately, when I see a pretty woman, it makes my brain shut down... you know?" Joe let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I think maybe... I like girls too much."

"Just like... your father." Carrie slowed to a walk. "I suppose... most men... are like that." She turned around. "Let's head back. I'm going... be sore... tomorrow." They walked for a few minutes and talked. When she'd caught her breath enough, they broke back into a jog. Her son seemed to have boundless energy. And he was so happy to share what was going on in his life. She heard about troublesome teachers, great teachers, bullies, friends, and lots more. She learned more about her teenage son in one morning jog than she had at the last thousand dinner conversations.

~~

September 15, 1954: Apartment 4F, the Lavey family.

"It's good to see you, Mrs. Creech." Betsy felt so odd dressed up in her Sunday best just to stay in the building. It was even odder to have her son on her arm and her husband trailing them, eager to attend to any errands Billy might have for him.

"You're positively glowing, Mrs. Lavey." Natalie Creech smiled warmly at mother and son. She was a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, wearing a dress that was maybe a couple decades out of style. "You look astonishing." Natalie leaned close to the fallen housewife and whispered, "I must know your secret."

Betsy glanced uncomfortably at her husband behind her. His eyes were cast on the floor. She looked back at Natalie and rubbed her belly. "I'm pregnant, Mrs. Creech. That must be it." They were standing outside apartment 1A. From this vantage, Betsy could see a little sliver of the lobby. There was a depiction on the wall of a slain stag, its throat slit and bleeding out. The wolf-headed man stood in the background of this scene. But the goddess stood above the stag, a dripping knife in one hand, her eyes turned toward the heavens in what looked like a plea or a prayer. Betsy shivered and looked at her husband again. Poor Harold was the defeated buck. Would something terrible happen to him? She hated to think about it.

"I'm thrilled that She finally invited us to worship." Billy stood proudly with his arm interlocked with his mother's. "Please lead the way."

"Yes, of course." Mrs. Creech stepped out of her apartment and closed the door. She pulled out a ring of keys as she led them to the elevator. "We've recently closed off the top floor. We'll have to get off on twelve and then go through a locked door. Once tenants have been here long enough, they usually get a key. We'll have one made up for you soon. In the meantime, I'll be your key."

Harold rushed to the elevator ahead of them and hit the call button.

"You won't be coming up with us tonight, Mr. Lavey." Mrs. Creech frowned at Harold. "The defeated will not sully the thirteenth floor. Get yourself a doorman's outfit and help out at the front."

Harold hustled toward the front door for further instructions.

The elevator chimed as the doors opened. Natilie's smile returned. "There now, this way. I'm excited for your first worship."

"We are, too." Billy squeezed his mother's ass through her dress and laughed.

Betsy let out a nervous giggle, and the three of them entered the elevator.

~~

October 18, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"Brian... what are you doing in there?" Darby knocked on her son's door. Since she'd walked in on him masturbating, she made it a point to knock. He hadn't even stopped touching himself when that had happened. It was like the food he constantly shoved down his throat. He no longer had any self-control. Her son was devolving before her eyes. "Brian? I know you're in there. You're spending too much time in your room."

"Leave me alone, Mom. I'm nineteen. I can take care of myself." Brian's voice sounded more than irritable.

"What are you doing in there?" Darby waited, tapping her foot on the hallway carpet. "Whatever it is, it's time to stop!"

"I'm surfing the net, Mom!"

"Brian, your sister is in town. We're going to meet your father at work, and the four of us are going to have a nice day as a family. So, come on out." Darby couldn't understand the silence that greeted her. Her sweet son always cherished family time, especially with his sister. He was always so eager to be with them. She marched to the kitchen, pulled a tall glass out of the cupboard, and filled it at the tap. She returned to her position in the hall, outside her son's room. "Brian? You better not be doing what I think you're doing."

"Leave me alone, Mom!"

"That does it." Darby opened the door. He was indeed masturbating. With grim determination, she moved across the room. The first thing she noticed was that there was a naked, Asian woman with big breasts on his computer monitor. The second was that her son's penis appeared to be bigger than before. And it had dark blue veins protruding all over its shaft. It was smaller and smooth before, I'm sure of it. Has he been pulling it so much he's deformed himself? He's ruining himself! Remembering why she'd come in there, she threw the water from the glass onto her son. "Get a grip, Brian. Put that thing away." She crossed her arms with satisfaction and watched him sputter. "We're going to have a nice day as a family. Get ready. You have ten minutes." She turned and headed toward the door, but something made her look back. Her son's thing was shrinking, but it was still quite beastly. The head of it was knobbier than she remembered, too. It made something in her belly quiver. And something... down lower... quiver... too.

"Fine, Mom! I'll get ready. Just get out." Brian was humiliated. His mother had literally thrown cold water on his jerking habit.

~~

"There you are." Greg had finally found his son. Usually, Brian was chatty in museums, but today he kept wandering off. "What did you find?" He stopped next to Brian and regarded the painting his son was observing. "Hey, this looks familiar." Greg rubbed his chin. "It's a bit... grisly." There was a buck laying on a stone altar, its crimson life running out of the slit in its throat. The blood ran over gray mineral and onto the verdant forest floor. A generously proportioned woman with black hair stood behind the altar. Incongruously, she held up a baby that looked like it had just been born. The umbilical cord stretched to the dead deer's wound. "What is this thing?" Greg was suddenly upset. He turned his eyes away and read about the painting. The Rebirth of Ogganse by Artur Victorovitch Siyankov, 1931. There was no other information.
"It does look familiar, doesn't it?" Brian turned and looked at his father, judging the man as an adversary for the very first time. "It's the same woman from the walls of the lobby."

"What lobby?" Greg didn't like the look in his son's eyes. He was suddenly aware that Brian's forehead was beaded with sweat, and a musky odor came off the teenager. Greg took a step back.

"From our building, Dad. From 3838 Walnut. She's all over the walls there. Ogganse." Brian nodded and looked back at the painting.

"This woman? Ogganse?" Greg pointed at the zaftig woman holding the baby.

"That is not Ogganse. That's the woman on the thirteenth floor," Brian said in a whisper.

"What woman? Our building only has twelve floors." Greg furrowed his brow in confusion.

"There you two are." Rachel waltzed up to them with a smile. "It's nice to see some manly bonding." She took their arms, one in each of hers, and led them away without noticing what they were looking at. "Mom found some awesome Der Blaue Reiter pieces. She wants you two to see them."

"Okay, Rachel." Greg was glad for the interruption. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened with his son.

"Lead on, Rachel." Brian leaned into his sister, feeling the warm, softness of her body along his side. He smiled. It was nice to spend time with his family.

~~

February 21, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

"It's definitely bigger." Abshir stood in the bathroom, staring at his soft dick in the mirror. "I'm going to have to figure out if this is related to..."

There was a knock on the door. "Are you in there staring at your dick again? I swear, if you get any more vain..." Hani sounded impatient. She had caught her brother in the bathroom the day before, swinging his soft dick in the mirror. It did seem like he had something to be vain about. It was big. But that didn't mean he should spend his days staring at it.

"Shut up, Hani." He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist. "I was just drying off." He opened the door, letting out the steam. "I wish you wouldn't..." He stood gawping at her pretty face and shiny, curly hair. The black of her curls were lustrous and seemed to call out for his touch.

"What are you staring at?" Hani frowned at him. "Do I have a bird's nest on my head or something?"

"Nothing... nothing... you look pretty without your hijab." Abshir continued his slack-jawed stare.

"You always see me without my hijab, and you haven't ever complimented me before." Hani pressed her lips into a line. When he continued to gawk, she pulled him out of the doorway and went into the bathroom. "You're acting really strange lately. Get a grip." She slammed the door on him.

In a daze, Abshir walked down to his room and started to dress. His mother walked in while he was pulling on his argyle sweater. On his lower half, he was still only wearing briefs. He finished getting the sweater in place, and then he found himself gawping at his mother's gorgeous, black curls. "Mom... um... I'm getting dressed."

"Don't mind me, it's nothing I haven't seen before." Uba dropped a full laundry basket on his bed. "I want you to fold those before we go out to eat." She walked back toward the door, but his silence made her pause. "Is everything all right, sweetheart?" She looked over her shoulder and saw that he was staring at her butt. "Abshir, you can't look at me like that. Your father would be very angry if he caught you doing that."

"What about you, Mom? Are you angry?" He could feel his dick lurch in his underwear.

Uba turned toward her son, cocked her head, and rubbed her chin. "Look up here, sweetheart." She pointed to her glasses, but he continued staring at the curve of her boobs. "Abshir? I have something to tell you. Look up here."

Slowly, Abshir raised his gaze to meet hers. He took in the sight of her soft, hazel eyes, magnified by her glasses. "Mom?"

"I know you're going through some changes right now. And everything is confusing." She smiled patiently. "But I'm your mother. I'm married to your father. I am not a woman for you in that way. You can't spend your life thinking with that." She pointed to his penis, which was quite obviously hard... and big. She could see the outline of it running north and disappearing up under his sweater. "Find a nice girl at your new school and ask her to help you with it. Maybe Joey can introduce you to some girls."

"You want me to... be with girls?"

"You need to get this primal energy out somewhere... else." Uba nodded.

Abshir stared at her full, dark lips. "Mom... I have a lot... of primal energy right now."

"I know, Abshir. It's obvious." Uba had always felt safe around her son. But he had been so wild lately. And something about the way he was looking at her chimed warning bells in her mind. She took a step back toward the open doorway. "Finish getting dressed and -"

"Mom... I'm hungry." Abshir took a step toward his mother. He absentmindedly adjusted his glasses. "Mom... I'm so hungry." His gaze dropped down to the wonderful slope at the front of her dress.

"I know, sweetheart. You've been eating nonstop for the past month. You should see our grocery bills." She let out a nervous laugh.

"What do you think the art in the lobby means?" Abshir didn't realize it, but he was sweating profusely again. His undershirt was already wet, and his underwear clung to his penis, the damp fabric becoming more transparent.

"I don't know. I don't like it. But we got such a deal on this apartment... and it's a wonderful building otherwise... I..." Uba couldn't help but fix her gaze on her son's briefs. Everything underneath was on display. His testicles were too big for him. And she thought they might be pulsing in the most unnatural way. "I... um... I have to go."

"Wait, Mom." With a snarl, Abshir bolted across the room. He was not normally fleet of foot, but he somehow passed his mother and closed the door before she could reach it. He could see that her chest was rising and falling with each accelerated breath.

There was a loud knock behind Abshir.

"Don't slam doors, moron." Hani banged on her brother's door again and then continued down the hall to her room.

"Hani," Uba whispered. Her throat was suddenly so dry she couldn't raise her voice enough to be heard out in the hall.

"I'm hungry, Mom," Abshir growled. "You will... satisfy me."

"You can fix yourself a sandwich. And... you... will not growl at me... in that way." Uba put her hand to her chest to steady herself. She found that she was still whispering. "What has gotten into you?"

Abshir breathed deeply. He could smell her fear and excitement. He could smell her womb preparing itself to breed a goddess. He shook his head. That's not right. None of this is right. He stepped to the side and opened the door. "Sorry, Mom. I was just... really hungry."

"Then get yourself a sandwich." Uba hustled past her son, out into the hall, and raced down to the living room. She found her husband reading on the sofa. She practically jumped onto his lap and draped her arms around him.

"What's wrong, Uba?" Taban didn't take his eyes off the page, but he did stop reading. He was hoping his wife might move along and allow him to finish the chapter.

"Abshir is... um..." Uba didn't know what to say. Her son hadn't done anything beyond blocking her way and undressing her with his eyes. "He's..."

"What is it?" Taban sighed, marked his page, and closed the book. "What did Abshir do?"

"He didn't do anything... but... he's different, Taban." Uba hugged her husband tightly.

"He's not your little boy anymore, I know. All mothers must eventually see their sons as men." Taban opened the book again. "I've noticed that he's been a bit more erratic than usual. Maybe we can find a way to have him focus his energy."

"Girls?" Uba's voice squeaked.

Taban laughed. "Sure, he needs some of that. But I don't have any women to offer him."

"No, you don't." Uba snuggled into her husband's side.

"I like you there. Your breasts are so heavy. Stay where you are while I read." Taban began reading again. "Maybe afterward, we can visit our bedroom together."

"I would like that, Taban." Uba looked over her shoulder. Her son was standing in the shadows of the hall listening to them. She couldn't see his face, but his body language seemed... disapproving. She shivered.

~~

September 15, 1954: Apartment 4F, the Lavey family.

"Uuuuggghhhh... ooo... ooo... uuuuuugghhh... ooo... ooo... nnnnngggaaaaaa... Ogganse!" The chant was low and urgent in the chapel. There were twelve tenants from the building in the pews, not including Natalie, Billy, and Betsy who all sat in the last row.

The Laveys didn't know the words, so they sat with their hands in their laps and with solemn expressions on their faces.

"Uuuugggghh... ooo... ooo... ooooooooo... Ogganse!" The crowd chanted.

Leading the prayer was a figure in purple, hooded robes. She chanted in a deep, guttural voice. Billy stared at her. She was clearly a she by the curves of her body that the billowy robes could not hide. Her face was hidden in shadow, however. The more Billy stared, the more he wanted the woman. He desired her almost as much as he desired his mother. Without even seeing her face, she was driving him up the walls.

The chapel was clearly an apartment that had been gutted, with only the support columns left where walls had once been. Behind the hooded figure rested the rough-hewn statue of a goddess. It had heavy, ponderous breasts and absurdly wide hips. The statue rested on a large, wooden stage that was stained with faded rust red in the spot just before the statue. The walls of the place were bare and danced in the light of the many candles.

Finally, the chanting came to an end, and the room fell into silence. The lead chanter threw back her hood and looked directly at Billy and Betsy. The woman was maybe in her mid-thirties, with black hair, piercing green eyes, and pale skin. Her smile was warm and inviting. "Welcome to the Laveys of 4F. We finally have a doe and buck worthy of carrying our goddess back into this world."

The crowd rejoiced, and the chapel erupted with their cheers.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 04
Darby finds that her son's room smells like Teen Spirit.
All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older. Thanks for reading!

January 22, 1940: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

Snarling and howling came from the Norwood bedroom. There was silence for a moment, and then a loud crunch of breaking furniture sounded through the closed door.

Floyd and Natalie eyed one another out in the hall. Their faces were ashen and pinched from fright.

"She sounds like a wild animal." Floyd clutched at his suit jacket, his fingers wrenching at the expensive wool fabric.

"Shall I send for the doctor again, sir?" Natalie worried her lip with her teeth.

"The doctors know next to nothing, and they incite her to higher levels of destruction." Floyd shook his head. "No, Mrs. Creech. I fear it's time for you to summon a priest. The devil has made a home in my wife. Have you seen how her wonderful, slender body has bloated? Have you seen the feral look in her eyes? Did you see ..." He lowered his voice. "... the way she leapt onto the wall yesterday? It was ... unnatural."

"Yes, sir." Natalie agreed. She steepled her hands and said a quick prayer. "A priest then."

"It's either that or an asylum, Mrs. Creech." Floyd nervously took a step back when the door began vibrating as if someone were running wicked claws across it. "Run along. Find me a priest who can handle possession."

"Yes, sir." Mrs. Creech turned and ran. It wouldn't be difficult for her. She had a priest in mind. She had known this moment would come for more than a week, and she had done her research to be ready to help her mistress.

~~

October 23, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund.

I haven't talked to Brian since he kissed me in the basement. Since then, it has been so unbearably awkward seeing him in the building, walking around with his Walkman and trumpet case. I don't know why, but I can't stop thinking about his strong arms holding me and his brash tongue. I shiver even writing that. It's been almost a month and still my mind wanders back to that hormonal teenager constantly. The only reprieve I get is when I'm with Dave. Which isn't as often as I'd like. But my sweet man does help me take my mind off things.

I have made some progress on the case. Marjorie Breaming is a friendly woman down the hall in 9A. I've managed to befriend her. Her husband works in the building as a janitor, which is ... odd. I haven't been able to get more than a few words out of him. Her oldest son still lives with them, although he keeps mostly to himself, too. They also have two younger children.

Mrs. Breaming has confirmed that there is a chapel in the building. From what she's said, and from what I've managed to eavesdrop from the Brown family in 7B, I have deduced that the chapel is on the thirteenth floor. Apparently, much of the building attends regular services there. I've never heard of anything like it in New York or ... anywhere else for that matter. It's almost cultish for a building to have its own services. The evils of cults have been in the news lately. The chapel, and whatever goes on there, certainly seems like a clue.

Mrs. Breaming says that I'll be invited to services once I've been here long enough. I asked if everyone in the building was invited. She said, "If Mrs. Creech approved your rental application, then you will be welcome to attend services." Apparently, religious tenants have a key to the thirteenth floor. I will have to see about finding Mrs. Breaming's key and copying it with a casting. Just like I did on the Bloomfield case.

Finally, the book I ordered from the library came in. Early Pagan Art by Artur Victorovitch Siyankov has a section on what I think is depicted in the lobby. In Eastern Europe, there was a myth of a goddess of the forest. The story involves the hunter, the hunted, the mother, and some sort of betrayal. Mr. Siyankov painted quite a few illustrations of the tale, but he's written few words about it. I'll study it more when I have some time.

Brian ... Brian ... Brian. What would have happened if I hadn't pushed him off me? What would he have done to me in the dark with that eerie carmine glow pulsing all around us? Being down there, it was almost like being in 3838 Walnut's belly. Can you imagine creating new life in the building's womb? Brian, Brian, Brian, Brian. He must have had to summon all his courage to kiss me. And I tossed it all away. I need to take a break.

I'm not sure where that came from. As you can see, Brian is still on my mind. How strange!

~~

January 22, 1940: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"How did it go, Father?" Floyd wrung his hands nervously.

"She seems to be doing well, Mr. Norwood." William McCaffery stepped out of the bedroom and gently closed the door behind him. "The room is a bit of a mess. While it's fine to be firm with your wife, I recommend watching your anger, Mr. Norwood. Perhaps if you came into the church more often -"

"I didn't destroy that room. She did." Floyd's face darkened.

"I very much doubt that. She's a mild woman with a mother's look and disposition." William frowned right back at Floyd. "Even if she had a violent temperament, which she does not, how could she possibly smash your dresser or bedframe like that? I know man's work when I see it."

"'A mother's look and disposition'? We have no child." Floyd's cheeks turned crimson with anger. "Not long ago, she was slender and graceful. But she's been eating like a cow. And now she looks like one. Those udders are -"

"Mr. Norwood, please stop." William looked at the wayward man with pity and compassion. "I urge you to come to His house with me now and seek His light. You are quite obviously troubled, and I'm worried what you may do to your wife."

"That's enough." Floyd grabbed the clergyman by the collar and dragged him to the front door. Without another word, he tossed the man out and slammed the door. He returned to his bedroom and looked inside. The place was a wreck. The curtains were torn and hanging askew. Detritus consisting of broken wood, torn bedding, and clothing littered the floor. Feathers from their mattress puffed into the air and fluttered as Elizabeth turned to look at her husband. Her smile was beatific.

"Did you not think I could fool a simpleton like Father McCaffery?" Elizabeth clasped her hands on the ripped fabric of her dress.

"Liz ..." Floyd stared at his wife. In the gloom of the room, she looked terrible and beautiful. Horribly captivating. Her pale skin almost glowed, and her eyes seemed to reflect red light from somewhere, but he couldn't determine the source. "I'll send you to an asylum to recover."

"You'll do no such thing. I won't be separated from Her." Elizabeth's voice was calm and even, but there was threat in her posture and gaze. "It's silly, really. I can't be separated from Her. Not even if I wanted to."

"The statue again?" Floyd teetered between rage and cowardice. His anger won. "I'll destroy it."

"No!" Elizabeth let out a vicious snarl and leapt eight feet in the air. She landed on the wall, and ... somehow hung there on her hands and feet, defying gravity. Her fingernails dug into the wallpaper. She bared her teeth. "I am the wolf. I am the stag. I am the mother. I am the sacrifice. I am the resurrection. You cannot ..." She blinked her eyes and shook her head. Suddenly, she lost her grip and fell to the floor with a loud thump. "Floyd? Floyd darling?" She reached a hand out for him.

Floyd could hear his wife's true voice return to her. He raced across the room and grasped her clammy hand, falling to his knees. "Tell me what to do, Liz. The devil has you."

"What have I become?" Elizabeth looked down at her ill-fitting, sundered dress. Her novel, Rubenesque body was practically spilling out of it. "What am I becoming?"

"We'll get you help, Elizabeth. I promise." Floyd held dearly to his wife's hand. She gripped him back with strength he would not expect from her or any woman. "You're ... um ... hurting my hand ... Liz."

Elizabeth pulled her husband closer. Her voice dipped into a growl. "You will be the first sacrifice. We will build an altar and your blood will paint it."

"Oh ... God." Floyd staggered back when she released his grip. He fell, rose, and hustled out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Natalie and her husband waited for him in the hall.

"How is the missus?" Natalie held her husband's hand. The Norwoods paid for their servants to live on the first floor, so they were readily available. This had seemed like a good idea to Natalie at the time. But now, she wished she might escape this situation. As much as she would like to, it was impossible for her to be unavailable to the Norwoods.

"What can we do, sir?" Bernard stuck out his chin in grim determination.

"Mrs. Creech, I want you to stay in the room with Mrs. Norwood. See that she doesn't hurt herself." Floyd was having difficulty forming a plan. He knew he needed to book an asylum for his wife, but the thought of doing so repelled him in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Mr. Creech ... you'll keep watch out in the hall tonight. Tomorrow, I'll see about finding the right help for Mrs. Norwood." Exhaustion settled in his bones. "But for now ... I will sleep in the living room." He thought briefly of smashing the fertility statue with a fire poker. But he couldn't seem to find the courage to do that. "I ... need to sleep."

"Yes, sir." Mr. and Mrs. Creech said as they exchanged a look.

"I don't want to be in that room with her," Natalie said when Floyd was gone.

"Never fear, darling. I'll be right here. Call out if you need me." Bernard fetched an armchair and sat in the hall. He gave his wife a reassuring smile. "It'll be okay." He watched her open the door with a trembling hand.

"Why, hello, Mrs. Creech." Elizabeth's voice was downright jaunty, as if meeting a friend at the park. "Don't be shy. Come in. I won't bite."

"Okay, Mrs. Norwood." With apprehension, Natalie gave one last, baleful glance to her husband and closed the door, shutting herself in with Elizabeth for the night.

~~

November 15, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"Brian! Brian!" Darby pounded on his door. "You're playing too loud. The neighbors are complaining." Boisterous Trumpet music resounded out of her son's room. He was usually so good about not playing at home. But here he was, blasting it in the middle of the day. "Ugh! Can you hear me?!?" The last time she'd heard him play, it had been a wonderful Jazz medley. This sounded like that horrible rock music he liked to listen to. How did he even learn how to play Nirvana on the trumpet?

The awful music continued. Darby turned, went into the kitchen, and poured a tall glass of water. How many times was she going to have to douse him? This had been the way she'd taken to controlling his erratic behavior the last couple months. "I thought they were supposed to get easier at nineteen," she whispered through clenched teeth. Returning to her son's door, she smoothed out her sweater, and wiped her clammy palm on her jeans. The hand that held the glass trembled. Why is he giving me so much trouble? She knocked again. "Brian! Brian? Stop it! Stop that music! Brian ... that's enough." The trumpet continued to vibrate through the door.

Darby put her sweating palm on the doorknob and turned. She pushed the door open and stepped into her son's room. She was ready to throw the water on him, but her hand stopped, some of the water sloshing out of the glass at the sudden motion. Her eyes went wide. She inhaled deeply. Her son's room smelled like the den of some animal. She picked up hints of sweat and something else. It smells like date night with Greg. Her eyes went wider. I'm smelling Brian's sperm. And that wasn't surprising. Because he stood by the window, completely naked. His penis was enormous and stiff. There was a strand of semen hanging from the head of it, bobbing in time to the music. His slender body was covered in perspiration. He continued to play the trumpet, even though his eyes were on her. Over his shoulder, outside the window, one of the apartment's gargoyles perched on the wall. The cement thing almost appeared to be looking in at them with amusement. Darby took another deep lungful of the miasma around her. Her knees trembled.

Brian would have smiled, but he was playing music with all his might. It definitely smelled like Teen Spirit in the room.

"Brian ... what is this?" Darby was quivering. Her son was so vibrant. So full of life. So ready to create life. It's lucky he doesn't have a girlfriend. He looks so potent, I'm sure I'd already be a grandmother. Her eyes glued themselves to the knobby head of his penis and the dangling sperm. It looked hard as steel, and the veins on it were such a dark blue that they were almost black. Those raised ridges snaked about his long pole. She thought back to when she'd walked in on him all those weeks ago. Then, she'd thought that his member looked like his father's. He must have disfigured himself with all his yanking, because it looks nothing like his father's tame thing now. It looks vile ... and wild. I wonder if I should touch it? Darby caught herself contemplating the horrible thought and finally threw the cold water onto her son.

Brian removed the trumpet from his mouth. The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Slowly, he put the trumpet on his desk, and gazed at his mother. She was panting, her large chest rising and falling rapidly. Her expression was somewhere between elated and terrified. "It's time."

"What?" Darby's voice squeaked.

"Things are going to change around here, Mom." Brian took a confident step toward his mother. He pushed back his wet, black hair and smiled. "I can't hold back anymore. I've tried."

"I'm your mother, Brian." Darby's voice was soft and sibilant.

"What's that? 'I'm your mother, Brian,'" he said in a mocking tone.

"Something's come over you, sweetie. You're ... not like this." Darby trembled as her son moved closer and closer to her. Soon, the heat of his breath carried into her nostrils, mixing with the smells of sperm and sweat that permeated the room.

"Something is about to cum over you too, Mom." Brian grabbed his now lengthy penis and jacked it with both hands. The cum under his foreskin squelched in the quiet room.

"Stop ... stop it ... Brian ... something evil has taken over you." Darby looked down at his horrid penis as he pumped it. The motion was crude and distasteful, but it pulled at something primordial inside her. "Are you ... are you ... on drugs?"

Brian let out a long, frenzied laugh. "I can hear Her when I go to the basement, Mom. I am the one that will bring Her back. Me! Can you believe it?" Pleasure surged through him.

"What's happening?" Darby was so confused. She wanted to reach out and touch his awful, deformed thing. It was so close, she could easily do just that. Her hand moved, but hesitated. Her other hand released the empty glass and it dropped to the floor with a thud, unbroken.

"It's finally happening." Brian jacked himself harder. His balls pulsed. His whole body pulsed in rhythm with the building. He was making sweet, solo music. "Cumming ... Mom."

"What?" Darby felt like she was watching everything from a great distance. She knew she should run, but instead, she stood like a dummy and let her son spray her with his smelly, sticky stuff. There was so much sperm, and it launched from his penis with such force. He really was an incredible paragon of potency. Darby had never seen anything like the eruption before. Not by an order of magnitude. Her son covered the front of her sweater from her breasts down to her hemline. He also coated the front of her jeans. Darby trembled and inhaled, breathing in the scent as deeply as she could. The pungent, bestial odor corroded her mind. "Oh ... no ... Brian ... you're soaking me." And that was true in more ways than one. She knew her panties were a sopping mess. I shouldn't respond to anyone but Greg. But ... but ... but ... Brian's tearing the civilization right out of me.

When Brian's ejaculation completed, he stopped his feral grunting, opened his eyes, and regarded the destruction of his mother's wardrobe. "So ... I think ... I have another one in me. Would you like to ...?" He pointed at his throbbing dick.

Darby dropped to her knees. The wild had entered their Manhattan apartment. They might as well be in the forest primeval. She reached out and grasped his penis. "It's so hot ... and huge." Her words were barely audible. I came in here to douse Brian. To bring him back to reality. But he's doused me. He's brought me ... here. She leaned forward and licked the knobby head of his penis. Her eyes rolled back, and she lost herself in the salty, life-giving taste of his stuff. "You've ... become a man ... Brian." She licked again. Quickly, her jaw was open as wide as could be, and she was bobbing her head on her son's penis.

"Not a man, Mom. I'm becoming ... something ... more." He laced his fingers in her silky, black hair. This is what he wanted. This is how it would be going forward. My mother is on her knees serving me ... and serving Her.

~~

January 23, 1940: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"Natalie ... are you okay?" Bernard knocked softly on the Norwood bedroom door. It was the middle of the night. Floyd slept in the living room. Elizabeth and Natalie had been silent for hours, but he could hear muffled talking and scraping in the room. He recognized Natalie's voice, and she was speaking softly, but with urgency. He strained to hear, but couldn't make out the words. "Mrs. Norwood? Natalie? Is everything okay?"

"Don't come in here, Bernard." Natalie called loudly through the door. "We're simply ... uuuggghhh ... trying to ... oooohhhhhhh."

Is our employer hurting my wife? Has the once regal Mrs. Norwood gone that feral? Bernard knocked louder. "Natalie ... do you need me?"

"She doesn't need you, Bernard." Elizabeth's tone was mocking, as her voice came muffled through the door. "Those days are past."

"Eeeeeekkkk ... Bernard ... I don't want you ... to see this ... I'll ... be okay ... I'll ... uuuuuggggghhhhh ... ugh ... ugh ... eeeeeeeek ... aaaaahhhhhhh." The rest of Natalie's words were incoherencies.

Floyd turned the knob and opened the door. He searched for the ladies, but saw only rubble. He stepped into the room. He could hear his wife still crying out. Her noises were accompanied by a terrible, slurping sound. He found their empty dresses on the floor. He knelt and lifted his wife's modest outfit. "Natalie?"

"Ooooohhhhh ... Bernard ... her tongue ... is reaching ... into my ... uuuggghhhhhh ... soul." Natalie said. She could see her husband was bravely looking around the room. This was her only chance at salvation. "I fear ... I fear ... she's put something ... inside me ... Bernard ... you must save me."

"Where ... where are you?" He spun in the gloom. The only light coming from the city through torn curtains. "I don't see you."

"Save ... meeeeeeeeeeeeee." Natalie convulsed as ethereal pleasure ripped through her nerves.

A drop of liquid landed on the floor next to him. And then another fell on his shoulder. Slowly, Bernard turned his gaze upward. He gasped, stepped backward, and stumbled to the floor. The women were pallid, naked shapes twisted together. Elizabeth had somehow pinned Natalie to the ceiling. Elizabeth's heavy breasts and hair hung with gravity, but otherwise she seemed to have forgotten that force entirely. Elizabeth's face was buried between Natalie's legs. That was where the horrid slurping sounds were coming from. Bernard crawled backward until his head hit the wall, then he lay there, staring at the grotesque spectacle above him.
"Help ... me ... Bernard ... I can feel it ... feel it ... inside meeeeeeeeee." Natalie writhed under her mistress's oral onslaught.

"Oh ... my sweet ... Natalie." Bernard turned away from them and crawled out of the room. He slammed the door and lay in the hall. His wife screamed and moaned for hours, but the noise never woke Floyd. Bernard, however, didn't get a wink of sleep. When silence finally emanated from the room, that sound was more terrible than the wanton noises from before.

~~

February 26, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

"Welcome home, Abshir and Hani." Uba stood in the hallway when her eighteen-year-old twins arrived home. "Before you go running to your rooms. I need you to take the laundry down to the basement and start a load."

"But, Mom." Abshir desperately needed to fap. Then a thought occurred to him. "Hani doesn't have to do it, why don't you help me, Mom?"

Uba narrowed her eyes. She didn't want to be alone with her son in the basement. She glanced at her daughter. Maybe Hani shouldn't go either. "I have to go to the shop. They need me behind the counter this afternoon. And since you gave me lip, Abshir, you'll have to go down to the basement by yourself. Hani, you're excused."

Hani pulled off her hijab, stuck out her tongue, and blew her brother a raspberry. "What's wrong, you'd rather dirty your socks than clean them?"

"Hey." Abshir frowned.

"Hani." Uba shook a fist at her retreating daughter. Hani's door slammed. "I told you not to slam doors." Uba shook her head. "I want the laundry done before I get home at seven." She shook her head at her son and walked off to get ready for work.

Abshir adjusted his glasses as he watched his mother's ass disappear out of the room. Even under her draping dresses, his mother made his heart hurt. And his dick. He grimaced as another painful erection tented his pants. He pulled his penis up under his waistband. A tactic he used often now that it was long enough to rest against his belly. He thought about going to his room for a quick release, but the laundry wouldn't wait.

In the basement, Abshir got the machines running and sat on the folding table. He watched the clothes spin for a while. Then he texted Joe. His friend wasn't busy, so Joe texted back that he'd come down to the basement.

Abshir opened his Bloodlines of Conquest game and started playing. It took five minutes to complete the chalice task and acquire the news that Prince Varthos was adopted. "Spoiler alert," he whispered to himself.

The lights went out. "Joe?" Abshir looked around in the darkness. The washing machines shook and rattled. He turned his phone at the blackness, using the screen to light up the room. Seconds later, his phone went dead. "Shit. Shit. Stupid battery." He shook the phone to no avail. "This isn't funny, Joey." His voice sounded frail and timid in his own ears. What if his mom had been down here with him when the lights went out? Would he have had the courage to ...?

There's something glowing down here. Slowly, Abshir got off the folding table and walked toward the wall with his hands waving about so he wouldn't run into anything. It's beautiful. A red glow pulsed slowly. He found the wall and put his eyes close to the light. The pattern of it on the wall seemed like some sort of plant or fungus maybe.

"Hear me, Abshir." Ogganse called from the other side. "It is your time. You are the stag. You will bring me back to -"

The lights came on. Joe stood in the doorway with his hand on the switch. He looked at his friend touching the concrete wall tenderly. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I thought ..." Abshir adjusted his glasses and stepped back from the wall. "I thought I saw something."

"In the dark?" Joe gave him a wolfish smile. "Never mind, you do you, buddy." He laughed. "Do you need to babysit your clothes ... or do you want to grab something to eat? I'm starving."

"Me too." Abshir smiled. "Race you!"

Joe turned and ran up the stairs, with Abshir just behind him. His friend had been more portly when he'd moved into the building. Abshir was slimmer now. And fast. Something felt wrong to Joe as he looked over his shoulder. He stopped when they got to the lobby.

Abshir screeched to a halt beside him. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I feel like I should be chasing you." Joe glanced at a nearby relief. It depicted the wolf-headed man howling at the moon while the goddess looked on with approval. He shuddered and looked back at Abshir. "Go ahead. If I catch you, I get to eat your food. Sound good?" Joe said.

Abshir scuffed the floor with his shoe like he was getting ready to charge. "You'll never catch me. He bolted through the lobby. The doorman, Greg, opened the front door just in time as the teenager burst out onto the sidewalk, almost bowling over a woman with groceries. His instinct was to apologize, but there was no time for that. He sped down the sidewalk, heading to the Korean barbeque place a few blocks away.

Joe burst onto the sidewalk. Without thinking, he caught a melon dropped by a woman before it could hit the sidewalk. He handed it back to her and smiled. He could smell her gratitude and arousal. He thought about staying.

"Thank you." The woman was breathless. One boy had nearly knocked her over, the second one had saved her produce. It had all happened so fast.

"I would love to stay and talk, but the chase is on." Part of Joe marveled at his quickness and hand-eye coordination. When did I get so good at using my body? He winked at the woman and sprinted away after his friend. Zig-zagging through foot traffic, Joe realized he wasn't going to win. The chase was already over. He'd stopped to help someone, and Abshir was probably already sitting at a table in the restaurant. Joe slowed his pace. His friend had probably upset that woman's melon on purpose. He sighed, listened to the echoing clamor of the city, and smiled. He wouldn't take Abshir's prize this time. There would be more races in their future. He strolled the rest of the way to the restaurant.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 05
The first sacrifice.
All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older. Thanks for reading!

November 15, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

This should be the fulfillment of everything that has been burning me up for months. I've wanted Mom so badly. Brian watched his mother awkwardly give him his first blowjob. It was clear she was unpracticed, but also determined to please him. To please Her. "What... what am I missing? This should be perfect."

"Hmmmmppphh?" Darby looked up at her son as she rolled her tongue around the meaty head of his penis. She was in a stupor. The moment was wrong. All wrong. But the only way through it was forward. I need to release his strange, massive, pulsing testicles. To underline that thought, she dropped a hand from his veiny shaft down to his left testicle. It really was pulsing rhythmically. It beat with a quick, steady rhythm, like it was keeping time to one of the horrible songs her son listened to. "Hhhhmpppppp?" She asked again.

"Something's missing... Mom." Brian knew it shouldn't feel natural to grip her black hair the way he was... to have his mother's head so completely under control. "Maybe... this needs to be..." He released his mother's hair, picked up his trumpet, and began to play Nirvana again.

"Mmmmmmmppphhh," Darby said angrily. Her motherly annoyance at her son could still pierce the veil of pleasure that clouded her mind. She removed the penis from her mouth, but continued to rhythmically pump him with one hand and massage his testicle with the other. "The neighbors are complaining... and I'm doing this for you... and you're going to keep playing... that infernal instrument?"

Brian removed the trumpet from his lips, the last notes of the song still reverberating in the room. "You play your infernal instrument, and I'll play mine." He gave her a mocking smile.

"I'll stop, Brian. I... um... shouldn't be doing this anyway." She didn't stop her hands from pleasuring him. Even worse, when a dollop of ejaculate... or pre-ejaculate - she wasn't sure which - rolled out of his penis head, she quickly licked it up. Her cheeks flamed with shame. "I really will stop."

"You passed that point a while ago, Mom. You're covered in cum, on your knees, and you're jerking my dick." Brian shrugged. "Don't be so stuck up. Play your music, and I'll play mine."

Darby furrowed her brows at him, but she also sucked his penis back into her mouth. Soon she had her eyes closed, bobbing her head in time to the corrupting music her son played on the trumpet. They were blowing a duet together. He was right. She wasn't going to stop. Her son had turned himself into an irresistible force. He was a beast. His thing was beastly. And she was... she was... no less an animal than he was.

That's better! Mom's finally enjoying my music. Brian turned his head to the side, so he could see the in-tempo blowjob. He'd seen his mother dance a few times. It had always been awkward to watch. He had assumed she didn't have much rhythm. But here she was bobbing away like she relished the music. Her head moved in perfect time with the song. He upped the trumpet's tempo and watched her blow him faster. This was better than controlling her head with his hand. He now controlled her with his music.

The song ratcheted in intensity. It was building to something. Darby had been with enough men to guess what accompanied the crescendo. But when? She stopped her pumping hand for a few seconds to check her watch. This was already the longest sex act she'd ever participated in. Of course, her son had been ejaculating all day. She would have to do better to finish him off. She tried taking him into her throat like her husband had often asked her to do, but immediately choked and had to pull off his penis. "Oh... gosh... that's impossible." She looked up at her son, but he was still playing his music. The rhythm of it tugged at her again. Before she knew it, she was back sucking him in time to the music, careful not to take him into her throat again.

It took a while, but Brian was almost ready. His whole body trembled. He finally came to the climax of the song.

"Mmmmpphh... hhmmpph... hmmp... hmmp... mmmmpphh... hhmmmpph... hmmmp... hmmp." Darby caught herself humming to the song around her son's penis. What happened to me? Before she could even ponder the question, she noticed that her son's lithe body was trembling. Every bit of him shook. Oh, no. This is it... he's going to... And her mouth was suddenly overflowing with hot, salty semen. Even after his day's activities, there was so much of it. She could feel his testicle retract over and over, pumping his stuff through his long penis and into her mouth. On instinct, she tried to swallow, but her body revolted. She ended up letting go of him and falling back on the floor, coughing. That was how she found herself getting sprayed for a second time that afternoon.

Song over, the trumpet landed on Brian's bed with a thump. He had to admit, the music had gone a bit out of tune while he was cumming. He laughed, looking down at his cum-coated mother. "I have another... in me... if you want, Mom."

Darby looked up at him with frightened eyes. Now that she had caused his release, some clarity returned to her. "I don't understand... I don't... I don't understand... what we just did, Brian. How could we?" She crawled backward until her head hit the wall with a thump. Her eyes went wider. "Your father. What do I tell your father?"

"Honestly, whatever you want." Brian stretched. He felt like napping. He'd never been so satisfied. "I don't care about him."

"He's your father, Brian!" She hissed. "Brian? Brian... what have we done?" Darby felt her poor, slimy sweater. She was drenched. Her son was a rainmaker. She watched him climb into bed and curl up. Within a minute, he was snoring. Slowly, Darby rose from the floor. His room was a mess, but he would have to clean it himself. I need to get out of here. Darby turned for the door.

The next few moments were unclear to her, but somehow, she found herself back on the floor of his room on her hands and knees, lapping at the sperm sprayed there. It was so wonderfully full of life. Perfect... salty... life. She couldn't help herself, even when she realized what she was doing, she continued to lap it up. Eventually, his floor was clean. Shakily, she rose to her feet again, listening to his heavy snores.

On trembling legs, Darby stumbled to the door and left. When she went to the bathroom, she barely recognized herself. There was sperm dripping from her nose, her chin, her hair. And it was soaked into her clothes. Quickly, she stripped and showered. She knew she had to do something about Brian. She needed help. But she didn't know where to turn.

~~

February 28, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

"Hello, Mrs. Branch." Hani smiled at the pale woman waiting for the elevator.

Grace Branch frowned at Hani, passed her eyes over the young woman's hijab and the full coverage of Hani's dress, and shook her head. She entered the elevator and pressed the button.

Hani turned and smiled at the unfriendly woman, waving until the elevator door closed. "Mrs. Branch might be a tad racist," she said to the empty hall. "And her bangs are ghastly. Honestly, I've never seen anything more terrifying." There was tension in Hani's shoulders, but she laughed hard enough to chase any demons away.

Hani was halfway down the hall when she heard someone opening the door to the stairs. Who takes the stairs up the twelfth floor? Curious, she turned to see. "Oh... my..." She watched a shirtless Joe enter the hall. He was sweaty and breathing hard. It was less than two months since she'd met him, and he had filled out admirably in that time. He was still lean, but his little, hard muscles bulged and rolled with his movements. Hani's eyes went wide. "You... um... you have six-pack abs." She pointed at his stomach.

Joe stopped in his tracks when he saw her. His laugh was light and breezy. "Hey, Hani. I'm eighteen. It's the age, right? Don't we all have washboards?" He ran his hand over his stomach and strolled toward her.

"I don't." She smiled. "Abshir doesn't." She shook her head. "And I saw you with your shirt off in gym last month. You didn't."

"I've been working out." Joe leaned against the wall, enjoying the way her hazel eyes darted about behind her glasses. It seemed she couldn't pick a part of his body to settle on. "If you keep staring at me like that, I'm going to blush."

Hani pushed him lightly on the shoulder. "Stop that! When did you get so confident? When we met you, you were a nerd." She took in a deep breath, inhaling his musk. Teenage boys are gross. He does smell disgusting. So why am savoring his scent? What's wrong with me? Her knees were suddenly weak. A surprising feeling moved through her. She was unsure of herself.

"I'm still a nerd, girl." Joe waggled his eyebrows.

"Yes, I can see that." Hani barked out a nervous laugh. "What I want to know is... um..." She looked around. "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah." Joe turned toward the elevator, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What is that?" There was some sort of commotion getting louder and louder as the elevator rose through the building. He and Hani watched the dial move from nine to ten. "I have... a bad feeling."

"Me too." Despite his strong smell, Hani stepped closer to Joe. She put her hands on his taught back muscles. He was slick with sweat, but she didn't withdraw her hands. The sound grew louder. It was impossible, but it reminded her of wild animals. The elevator dial went from eleven to twelve. The elevator chimed. The doors opened. Hani screamed.

~~

January 23, 1940: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

Floyd woke on the sofa. He sat up and stretched. It was a long shot, but maybe his wife would be back to her old self this morning. The sun shone in brightly through the windows. The sky outside was blue. It seemed exactly the sort of day where one would find that all the statue business had been a bad dream. He looked over at his wife's collection. No, the ugly goddess still stood there, rendered with limited skill by hammer and chisel. And he could hear the smacking of his wife's awful eating coming from the kitchen. The woman was truly an animal now.

"Maybe I should think about a divorce. Plenty of other fish in the sea," Floyd whispered. He cringed and eyed the statue. Had the thing's crude expression become more disapproving? Floyd stood and walked toward the kitchen. "Bernard? How did it go last night? Bernard?" There was no answer. Floyd made his way into the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway. It wasn't his wife making those horrible munching sounds. It was his servant. Natalie was hunched over a plate piled high with sausages, angrily gnawing at them.

"Mr. Norwood," Natalie hissed. Her dress was dirty and torn. Her hair was matted and wild. Her makeup ran down her cheeks. "I'm eating these." She hunched further, protectively covering her food."

"You... don't eat our food." Floyd blinked. "You... you have your own food. Downstairs."

Natalie suddenly burst into tears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Norwood. I'm just so hungry. And Mrs. Norwood said I couldn't leave."

"Where's your husband? Who's watching my wife?" Floyd tried to bring some steely resolve back to his voice.

"Bernard... went down... to 1A," Natalie said between bites. She had gone back to greedily eating the Norwoods' cured meat. "Mrs. Norwood is watching herself, I suppose."

"What is wrong with you people?" Floyd curled his lip in disgust as he watched her eat. "You're fired. You and Bernard are both fired."

"You can't... do that... Mr. Norwood." Natalie ate faster, moving as if her time was running out. "I told... you. I can't... leave. I can't... ever... leave. She put something... inside me... with her tongue... and now... I'm Her's forever... and ever."

Floyd turned his head away. "I'll check in on my wife." He left the room, walked down the hall, and opened the door. He stood gawping for what felt like an eternity. His once slender bride was lying on her back on a cairn of broken furniture. Some sort of moss had grown over much of it, giving her a soft place for repose. Ferns sprung up in the room here and there. She was tilted to her right, and her massive breasts dangled that way. Her wide hips looked ridiculous to Floyd, the bottom one disappearing into a depression in the moss. Her hair was wild and her expression pensive. My once graceful and fashionable wife has been replaced by a maladroit cow. Her skin looked so very pale. Her nails seemed like daggers, as if she hadn't trimmed them in a year.

"Good morning, my erstwhile husband." Elizabeth's voice was a purr.

"Ahem." Floyd recovered himself enough to talk. "So, we're agreed then. It's a divorce. I want you and all your things out by the end of the day." He couldn't bear to look at her, so he cast his gaze out the window. Two gargoyles posed on either side of the windowpanes, looking in at him with malevolent expressions. Those creepy bits of façade hadn't been in those positions before, he was sure of it.

"Not agreed, dear." Elizabeth shook her head. She blinked, and a bemused expression spread on her ashen face. "Run... Floyd, Run!" She spat out the words in a hurry. "Run!"

"Excuse me?" Floyd's face pinched. "What are you...?" His wife wasn't as maladroit as he'd supposed. She leapt from her mossy bed and perched on the wall, her clawlike fingernails tearing holes in the wallpaper. He straightened his spine. "You will not frighten me, Liz." He worked hard to keep the quiver out of his voice. While her udders were huge, hanging sideways toward the floor, and her hips and butt had expanded, he could also see that she had muscles rippling under the skin of her arms and belly. "What are you?"

"Me?" Elizabeth's smile was eager and full of anticipation. "A woman ready for her first sacrifice." She sprung off the wall, sailed through the air, and swiped her husband's throat with her claws.

"Gggggbbbbbllllllllll," he blurted. Floyd put his hand just above his tie. He pulled it away and looked at it in wonder. His fingers and palm were painted crimson. He tried to speak again, but couldn't make any sound but a gurgle. He looked over at his wife in confusion. She was crouched next to a fern, staring at him with interest. Floyd held out his red hand to her, fell to his knees, and pitched forward into the room. His blood slowly pooled, feeding the wild that had grown there.

Natalie walked down the hall into the doorway, took in what had happened, and screamed.

"Quiet, woman." Elizabeth snarled at her.

Natalie went still, barely breathing.

Elizabeth stood and walked to Floyd's prone form. He'd stopped gurgling. She nudged his shoulder with her bare foot, but he didn't move. "It isn't working."

"What isn't working, Ma'am?" Natalie was breathing again, her whole body trembling.

"It isn't working." Elizabeth's claws retracted. She held out her hand and grasped Natalie by the breast, pulling her into the room.

With a little shriek, Natalie stepped over her dead employer, letting her mistress drag her to their mossy cairn.

"We have started it wrong. This is wrong." Elizabeth lay back on the bed. "But we'll get it right. In time, all pieces will fall into place." Elizabeth guided Natalie's lips down between her legs.

"I don't want... mmmppphhhhhh." Natalie only struggled for a moment before she began lapping. All thoughts of the horrid murder fell away from her.

"That's my pet." Elizabeth stroked Natalie's hair. "Together... we'll figure this out together. Ooooohhhhh... yes... right there... good girl... right there..."

Other tenants on the fourteenth floor wondered what could possibly be howling in their Manhattan building. It had been happening all night, and now it was back. Some would ask for an exterminator. Some would ask for a priest. One even sent for the police. But by the time the officials arrived, no one could hear it anymore, or locate the source.

~~

February 28, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

If it wasn't for Hani screaming in his ear, Joe would have thought he was dreaming. A doe jumped out of the elevator, stumbled, hit the wall, and charged toward the shocked neighbors. Another doe was right behind the first. A moment later, a stag burst from the elevator. All three deer galloped down the narrow hall. Joe turned, embraced Hani, and huddled her against the wall, putting his body between hers and the animals. Hooves thundered so loudly as the animals passed them that Joe could barely hear Hani's screams.

"Eeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiii!" Hani could barely comprehend what was happening as bounding brown fur passed them, and the hall shook. It felt like an earthquake. It felt like 3838 would topple to the street below.

A searing pain lit up Joe's shoulder. He cried out, but didn't release his neighbor. The stag had clipped him with its antler. But the beast quickly passed them. Joe eased up as the cacophony of charging animals faded. He watched their white tails disappear through the open doorway to the roof. That door is always locked. Why is it open? Why are there fucking wild animals in here? The deer were gone. He stood, helping Hani to her feet.

"Thank you... thank you... I..." Hani looked at the still open elevator door. A deep growl emanated from inside it. "What's... that?" She barely noticed Joe's blood as it ran from a gash on his shoulder down his back and over her fingers. A wolf entering their hall had taken most of her attention.

"It's a big... fucking... wolf. I read that... they were big... but..." The hallway reverberated with the creature's growl. Its eyes had a faint crimson glow as they turned toward the humans. "Is your apartment unlocked?" Joe backed them down the hall, away from the wolf. His apartment was in the direction of the predator, so he didn't want to take them that way.

"I have a key," Hani squeaked. Terror had almost stopped her brain from working, but she managed to rummage in her dress pocket for the key. She walked backwards, staying behind her friend as he backed them up.

The wolf lowered its head and tensed. Its growl grew louder.

"My door... my door... I forgot... how to use a key." Hani's brain finally gave up. She held out the key to Joe.

"Right..." Joe took the key and continued backing them up. The wolf stalked them at the same pace, keeping about thirty feet between them. Joe didn't dare take his eyes off the thing. The reserve of confidence he'd been building lately had been almost completely depleted by the sudden appearance of mad chaos in his apartment building. He knew that his old self would have already been huddled on the floor in the fetal position. He knew that because that was what he desperately wanted to do. "Keep... moving... Hani."

"He's going to... eat us," she whispered.

"No... I think he wants the deer. We're just between him and..." Joe gulped. "... what he wants." Finally, they reached apartment 12E. Without looking at the knob, Joe struggled to get the key into the lock.

The wolf stopped growling, paused its stalking, and cocked its head.

The key made a horrible sound of metal scraping on metal.

The wolf let out an earsplitting howl.

"It's in." Joe felt the key fall into place and the lock give way. He turned the knob, and the door opened. He pushed Hani into her apartment just as the wolf charged. Joe dove in after Hani, landing on top of her on the entryway floor. He covered her with his body as best he could, trying to protect her. He braced himself for the pain of canine teeth. The howl still rang in his ears as he heard the heavy thump of paws grow louder and then grow fainter. The sounds died down. He wasn't eaten. Still on top of his friend, Joe looked over his shoulder. The hall was empty. He barked out a sudden laugh. I'm not dead.
Hani joined in his laughter. She couldn't help it. All the energy from her terror ran out of her in chiming guffaws. She reached up and turned his face toward her. She left streaks of blood from her fingers on his cheek, but she couldn't bring herself to worry about that. "You... saved me! You're not... a nerd... you're a big... fucking... hero!" She said through her laughter. Tears ran down the outsides of her eyes into her hijab.

"Nerds... can be heroes." Joe liked her. He liked himself. I'm glad I saved us. I am a big fucking hero. He smiled down at her. She looked ecstatically beautiful in the throes of her cathartic laughter. He dropped his lips to hers, silencing them both. He surprised himself by darting his tongue into her mouth. She surprised him when she responded by dancing her tongue with his.

The last few minutes were hard to keep track of for Hani. In the span of a short time, she'd discovered that her friend was hot. A zoo had sprung up in her apartment building. Her friend had saved her life. And now they were making out like there was no tomorrow. She dug her fingers into the warm, slick skin of his back. She could feel his hardness growing against her hip and belly. Her hands dropped down to his shorts, gripping his ass. It was skinny, but strong. Like the rest of him.

Joe's hand ran between the two of them, massaging her belly. He found her to be wonderfully soft, with a slight curve to her tummy. When his fingers reached her tits, he was surprised by how heavy they were. She hid her body well, he supposed. He kneaded them. His hips began rhythmically moving on their own.

"Mmmmppphhh." Hani's brain finally started working again. She realized she was making out with Joe on the floor with the front door open behind them. Gently, she pushed him off and sat up. "Just because you saved my life, doesn't mean I'm your girlfriend, dude."

"No... I know... I just." Joe sat next to her, trying to read her expression.

Hani smiled. "But I guess it does get you a nice grope, doesn't it?" She thrust her chest in his direction. "One more as a special thank you?"

"Um... sure." Joe reached out and mauled her tits with his hands. These have been hiding in plain sight all this time? Awesome.

"Try not to look too pleased with yourself." Hani giggled. "Sorry about the blue balls I'm about to give you." She brushed his hands away and stood. "Did all of that really happen? Do we call animal control?" She steadied herself with a hand on the wall. "Don't answer that... shit. Look at all that blood." Her dress was ruined. She took a deep breath and stepped over to her friend and inspected the cut on his shoulder. "It's not deep, but I should clean it and put on a bandage."

"Florence Nightingale much?" Joe stood and followed her to the bathroom.

"I like to dabble in Nightingale play." She sat him on the toilet lid and collected supplies. "Still doesn't mean I'm your girlfriend." She squeezed antibiotic onto the wound, listening to him hiss in pain. "That might sting."

"Thanks for the warning," Joe said through gritted teeth. "Is anyone else home?" He probably should have asked that before making out with her on the floor for ten minutes.

"Dad's on a bike ride. Mom's at work. And Abshir is off somewhere. He said something about the basement, but I doubt he's just hanging out in the laundry room on a Saturday." She cleaned around the wound with a wet towel and applied a bandage. "You might want to have a doctor look at that. I don't know anything about stitches or anything."

"Thanks, Hani." Joe stood. They were both covered in blood and sweat, but they were exchanging warm smiles. "I know you're not my girlfriend. But I like you." I guess my confidence wasn't that depleted. "Can I see you without your hijab?"

"There's no way I can do that. It's against the rules." Hani frowned at him and pulled off her hijab. "I hate rules." She shook out her hair. "What do you think?"

"Wow... your hair is awesome." Joe wanted to touch her flowing, black curls. But he could sense it wasn't the right moment. Instead, he nodded with approval and gave her tit one last, playful squeeze. "You're gorgeous. If you ever decide that someone saving your life qualifies as boyfriend material, let me know."

"I will, dummy." She extended onto her toes and kissed him on his pale, bloody cheek. "You've got what looks like a massive boner," she whispered. "Go home, get yourself cleaned up, and take care of it." She laughed when he looked down at his crotch with a startled expression. She wagged a finger at the tent in his pants. "No, you can't have one of our pillows again. You still haven't returned the last one you used to hide your boner."

"Who said anything about hiding it?" Joe laughed. "I like you, Hani. I'm glad we didn't die."

"Me too. Now get out of here. I have to clean up before my family gets home." She pushed him out of the bathroom toward the front door.

"I'm going to be thinking about you while I take care of it in the shower." He looked over his shoulder at her as she playfully pushed him through the apartment to the front door.

"I know. And please don't act like you've never done that before." Hani laughed. "I know men. You've probably thought about every woman you know while jerking, including your mother."

Joe was silent while she pushed him out into the hall. He turned around and waved. "Bye."

Hani rolled her eyes, smiled, and closed the door on her bloody friend.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 06
Detectives investigate the building.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain.

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

November 19, 1954: Apartment 4F, the Lavey family.

"Oops... I spilled my beer." Billy was sitting in his father's reclining chair, watching a football game.

"I'll help you, Billy." Betsy ran into the living room. She was showing now, but still trying to fit into her normal housedresses. It was maybe a little difficult for her to admit to herself that her son had gotten her pregnant. The tight garment slowed her down a little.

"No..." Billy stared at the way his mother's dress bulged around her growing belly. "No, go get Dad to clean it up." He lowered his trousers and underwear. His heavy, turgid cock sprang into view. Its veins were such a dark blue color that they looked almost black on his pale skin. He slowly began jerking himself. "You can't clean my mess. You'll be making a new one."

"Yes, I will." Betsy's heart fluttered as she took in the sight of the monstrous thing between her son's legs. "Would you... like to put it inside me... too?" Her voice was filled with a breathless hopefulness.

Billy laughed. "Maybe, Mom. But get Dad to clean the carpet before it stains."

Without another word, Betsy hustled as quickly as her tight dress would allow down the hall and knocked on her son's room. "Harold. Billy needs you to clean up his mess in the living room. He spilled his beer... um... your beer... on the carpet." Betsy still wasn't sure who owned what in the apartment. Harold had always been in charge. But lately, he seemed nothing more than a servant.

"Okay, I'll be right there." Harold's defeated voice came through the door.

Betsy didn't wait for her husband. Is he still my husband? Is he really? A momentary squall of confusion passed over her face. Then, she thought about her son's penis waiting for her in the living room, and her smile returned. She hustled back to Billy, sat on the arm of her husband's recliner, and took over penis duties from her son. She shooed away his pumping hands and replaced them with her own. "Ooohhhhhh... Billy... it makes me so happy... to make you happy." She pumped the long, thick pole with acumen she'd gained from months of burnishing his steel. "You sure I can't just climb on? I'm already wet."

"You're always wet." Billy brayed out a harsh laugh. "You're always wet, Mom."

"That's not true." Betsy frowned but continued her avid pumping. Squeezing his stiffness on the way up and loosening her grip on the way down as if she was milking him. I am milking him. And I'm good at it. Just as a mother should be. "It's not true, Billy. I'm only wet when I'm around you. You... drive me crazy."

"Enough talk. I'm trying to watch the game. Suck it." Billy put a hand on her head and bent her face down to his dick.

Still sitting on the arm of the chair, Betsy bent awkwardly and gave him a well-practiced blowjob. She had been such a greenhorn when she'd first started fooling around with her son's manhood. She barely recognized that woman from months ago. Now she could get almost all of him down her throat. Just the way he liked it.

"That's... uuugghhhh... good... Mom." Billy clutched his mother's brown hair, keeping her pace going, as he watched football over her bouncing head. When his father came in and started mopping up the carpet, Billy glanced over. "Hey... Dad... you're good at cleaning... right?" His father didn't respond or make eye contact. Billy laughed. "I think your talents... uuuggghhh... are wasted as a doorman. I'm going to see... if Mrs. Creech... might make you a janitor instead. Would you like that?"

Betsy pulled her head off her son's lap. She wiped her mouth and looked with pity at Harold. The poor man was obviously cleaning as fast as he could to go back to his son's room. "Be nice to your father, Billy. We've done our best... giving you everything you could want. He picked this apartment after all."

"I think I will take your pussy, Mom." Billy leered at her.

"Oh... yesssssss... that's good news." Betsy struggled to unbutton her dress as quickly as possible.

"But I'll only put it in if you tell Daddio what sort of man he is." Billy's grin broadened.

"Well, I married him because he was handsome and a good provider. Until... until... you took his place... I thought he was... um..." Betsy's fingers slowed down as she struggled to give her son what he wanted without hurting Harold. "He... um... is very good at cleaning your messes, Billy." She glanced quickly at Harold, but the man didn't look back. It seemed he was done cleaning, but still, he crouched on the floor. They all knew he couldn't leave until Billy had had his fun.

"Tell him, Mom." Billy smacked her bra with his palm, enjoying the heavy resistance of her tit. When her dress was off, he pulled down her bra and played with her darkening areolas and nipples.

"Oh... aaaahhhhhhhh." Betsy arched her back as pleasure surged through her breasts and into her body. "He's old... Billy. He lost me to you. You're the young buck. You're my future." She could see that what she was saying wasn't enough for her son. As she pulled her panties to the side and straddled Billy, she looked directly at her husband. "You're old, Harold. Your penis is... not good enough. I thought I enjoyed it once, but I didn't know what sex really was. Not until... until... our son pulled me up onto the ceiling. Now, I know... now... I... knoooooowwwwwwww." She lowered herself onto her son's giant penis, feeling the electricity of his presence inside her. "Ooohhhh... Harold... you'll never know... what it's like... ooohhhhhh... he's inside me... along with the baby he put in there... they're both... in my belly... and it feels so good... it makes me... want to cry." True enough, tears of joy ran down her cheeks. Her hips started undulating as her son took her right nipple into his mouth. She arched her breast into his face.

Mother and son humped without words for a long time as the football game played across the living room. After a while, forgotten, Harold slunk out of the room. He would need to find a janitor's uniform. He was eager to be the best janitor the building had ever seen. He desperately needed to please Her. It was his place now as the deposed stag.

~~

February 28, 2015: Apartment 12C, the Marland family.

When her son returned from his jog covered in blood, Carrie screamed. She thought he was dying. When he explained that he'd run into wild animals in the hall, she thought he was insane. When he went to show her where it had happened, there was already a janitor finishing up steam cleaning the carpet.

"Hello, Mrs. Marland." Hank Breaming tipped his cap to them and turned off the cleaner. His old joints were stiff, and he was eager to go sit down. But he stood at attention, as he always did when tenants were present. "Hello, Joey. I've finished cleaning your spilled pop."

"My... pop?" Joe turned to his mother. "It's blood. I don't know what he's talking about. Three deer and a wolf, they came right through here and went up to the roof." He pointed at the locked door, pulling his mom over there. The door was locked. It didn't budge.

"Nobody goes through that door. It always remains locked. Building management has its rules." Hank shrugged.

"Why... why are you lying? What are you covering up?" The old Joe would not have confronted someone so directly. But lately he'd discovered a much lower tolerance for bullshit. "There were animals, Mom. I didn't even see Mr. Breaming. There was no soda."

Hank gave Carrie an apologetic shrug that said boys will be boys.

Carrie frowned at both men. She nodded to the janitor. "I'm sorry Joey created more work for you. I don't know what's gotten into him lately." She grabbed her son by the elbow, trying to find a spot on his skin not smudged with blood. "I assume you got into a fight on your jog? Was it boys from school? And then you celebrate your barbarity by drinking pure sugar? Where's the can?" She led her son back into their apartment. She closed the door and wheeled him around to face her. She found herself fighting her gaze as it wanted to drift down to his perfect abs. He took his time, but he certainly is blooming. Why do I have to create such perfect men?

"Look... Mom... I'm not sure what's going on... but..." Joe chewed on his lip. He should have been terrified standing in front of her anger. But he felt fine. If anything, he had to fight the urge to return her aggression. He needed to be smart about this. "I'm sorry. It wasn't a fight. I slipped and fell in the park. Someone was nice enough to give me a bandage." He bent his bare shoulder toward her. "I shouldn't have lied about drinking a soda. I just know about your junk food rules."

"I'm not surprised. You've been eating so much lately. You'll throw anything in your mouth." Carrie could feel herself gaining control of the situation. "Is this something you've been doing a lot of? Sneaking around with soda, I mean."

"I'm sorry. I won't lie to you." He smiled. "Which means I should tell you that Hani and I kissed."

"What?" Carrie's eyes widened, her anger forgotten. "Were you... um... was it... ugghhh... well... are you dating?" Suddenly, she found herself biting her fingernails. It was a terrible habit, but if her son could sneak sodas...

"Mom, she was very clear that she's not my girlfriend. You know how Hani is." Joe laughed and walked toward the bathroom. "I'm sorry for lying to you. It won't happen again." Both of those statements were lies. "She did take off her hijab for me." He stopped in the bathroom doorway and looked back at his mother.

Carrie stood nibbling on her fingernails, her questioning eyebrows raised. "Was she... pretty without it?"

"She's gorgeous, Mom." All of Joe's confidence coalesced inside him. He stood in the doorway, practically posing for his mother, giving her a great view of his sweaty and bloodstained torso. "Do you think I should make her my girlfriend?"

"Oh... I don't know," Carrie squeaked. All of a sudden, her son was beaming out charisma. She felt like she might melt in its wake.

"Yeah, I think so, too. She's fun to hang out with, and she's got a great smile." He winked at his mom and entered the bathroom.

"Oh... a twelfth-floor romance it is." Carrie didn't know how to feel at the moment. It was much easier being angry with her son than... whatever this was. Her legs trembled as she went to her bedroom and locked the door.

~~

August 22, 1994: Investigation into the disappearance of Rosalin Ekland.

Leaning on a tree across Walnut Street from 3838, Nathaniel scowled at the building. Each one of the gargoyles on its façade seemed to be leering at him, mocking him. The building manager, the haughty Mrs. Creech, had kicked him out of the building two weeks ago. He had been "bothering" the tenants. Since then, he'd staked out the building, alternating shifts with other detectives from the firm. They hadn't seen Rosalin. They hadn't seen any of the Ostrows. Strangely, they hadn't even seen Mrs. Natalie Creech exit the building. It appeared that many tenants never left 3838. He counted only about three-fourths of his unofficial building census out on the sidewalk over the past few weeks. And the only staff that he saw brave Greater New York were the doormen. Who, he discovered, also served as bagmen for groceries and whatever else the agoraphobic tenants and staff needed.

It was a very odd building. Odder even than Natalie's reports described. Early in the investigation, he'd hoped to find her diary. He knew she kept one. Everyone at the agency did. But it wasn't among her things.

Among the agoraphobic tenants were the Kwons. Rosalin had mentioned that family at length. She'd used their teenage son as a source of information, and she seemed to have a friendship with him. But Nathaniel had never gotten an answer when knocking on 12C. Even though Mrs. Creech said they still lived there. And since his stakeout, he hadn't spotted anyone that matched their description. Of course, there was an Asian man about the father's age and height in the building. But he was a doorman. So, he couldn't be Greg Kwon.

Nathaniel frowned at the gargoyles. Something very strange was going on. But he couldn't sink his teeth into it. Fortunately, their client continued to pay. And Nathaniel would keep looking as long as he could. He couldn't let a building swallow one of his colleagues whole. Not on his watch.

~~

November 29, 1954: Apartment 4F, the Lavey family.

It wasn't often that Billy left the apartment. But some days he liked to get out. He enjoyed holding his mother's hand, or her ass, as they walked down busy sidewalks. He wanted the world to know she was his. On this excursion, they were coming back from the park when Billy sensed something behind him. He squeezed his mother's ass more tightly and pulled her wide hip to his. "Do you smell that?"

"I smell... the market we just passed." Betsy looked over at him, their faces inches apart. Her son looked... worried. That was something she hadn't expected to see. At least, not recently. "What's wrong?"

"We're being followed." Billy's voice dropped an octave. "Hurry." He sped up, but his mother was having trouble keeping up with him. She was in heels, and her dress was too tight. They dodged around pedestrians, Billy practically dragging her. A block down the sidewalk, Betsy lost her footing and fell. Billy was so distracted that his normally quick reflexes were slow. He didn't reach out for her as she tumbled forward.

A young man in a well-tailored, dark suit was passing in the other direction. He reached out and caught Betsy.

"Oh... my... thank you!" Betsy righted herself with the man's help. When he released her arm, she smiled.

Billy stopped next to them, his eyes looking behind, studying the crowd.

"You look to be about my son's age." Betsy frowned, recognition forming in her mind. "I've seen you before."

The young man tipped his hat to her. "I believe we live in the same building. 3838?" He gave her a wolfish smile. "I'm Bradley Dodgson from 9B."

"Mrs. Betsy Lavey." Betsy gave him a slight curtsy. "And this is my son, Billy."

Billy didn't feel like he was being hunted anymore. He gave a sigh of relief and turned his attention to the newcomer. "Bradley? Yes, I've seen you around." Billy put his arm around his mother again, squeezing her into him. "You're one cool cat. These sidewalks can be dangerous. Thanks."

"Glad to help, daddio." Bradley tipped his cap again, his gaze flickering to Betsy's burgeoning belly and then back to Billy. "You should keep your eyes on this Jane Doe." He nodded to Betsy. "You're right. It's a dangerous city."

"Yes, thanks." Billy nodded and pulled his mother back toward their building. He felt unsettled. Maybe he would flaunt his mother in public a little less often.

~~

March 10, 2015: Apartment12E, the Dahir family.

"Oh, hello, Abshir." Uba found her son eating all alone in the kitchen. "Don't eat too much, you'll spoil your appetite for dinner." She doubted this was true, her son seemed to be a bottomless pit. Despite this, his body was slimming a little. She adjusted her glasses and tried not to stare at his noisy, smacking lips. "Is your sister home?" She sat in their small dining alcove, picking the seat that was as far away from her son as possible.

"Hani's out with Joe. I think they're in the park." Abshir shrugged and pulled his hand out of the cereal box. He closed the lid and leaned back in his seat. "Dad's still at work." He smiled. "How was the shop today?"

"Exhausting." Uba lifted her hand up and held her hijab but didn't pull it off. She didn't like the way her son was looking at her. She removed her hand, leaving the hijab in place. "You... um... promised me that you wouldn't look at me like that anymore." He had apologized for his inappropriate behavior several times, but he continued to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Look at you which way, Mom?" He stared at the swell of her breasts under her modest dress.

"Why aren't you with Hani and Joey?" She frowned. She still had her purse over her shoulder. She swung it forward and held it so that it covered her breasts.

"Third wheel." Abshir shrugged, adjusted his glasses, and moved his gaze back up to his mother's beautiful, if disapproving, face. "They don't want me."

"Is something going on between them?" There were so many things to worry about since they'd moved into the building. Her children were misbehaving. She liked Joe, but she didn't trust her daughter out with a man somewhere in New York. "Mrs. Marland seems to think that Joey likes -"

"What do I care?" Abshir blurted.

"Don't be rude." She wagged a finger at him. "You and Joey are friends. I like that the three of you -"

"Do you and Dad have sex? I mean... I've been listening at night. All I hear is you two watching TV and then going to sleep." He adjusted his glasses and pressed his lips together, waiting for a response like it was a perfectly normal question.

"I... I... you're listening... at our door?" Uba didn't know where to begin with this new insanity.

"I'm listening from my room. But I can hear perfectly fine from there. I can even hear the neighbors doing it sometimes. Mr. and Mrs. Marland have sex almost every night. But not you." He shook his head.

"You... you can't possibly hear the Marlands. They're down the hall. What are you saying?" Uba wished her husband was home. Her son had become so difficult and was worse when they were alone. "Why don't you run out and find Hani and Joey?"

Abshir adjusted his glasses and watched her closely.

Uba looked out the window. With such an unruly teen, it was hard to appreciate the beauty of their apartment. She was always so flummoxed. She stared out at the park, letting the sight of it relax her.

"So..." Abshir held out his hands, palms upward.

"So... what?" She continued to look out the window. She wanted to look anywhere but at her son.

"So, do you and Dad still have sex?" Abshir stood up and folded his arms, waiting.

"That's none of your business," Uba whispered.

Abshir couldn't believe what he'd gotten away with so far. His mother was letting him say whatever he wanted. The voice in the basement had been right about... everything. He cleared his throat. "Sex is a really important part of life. And neither of us is getting any. Want to make a deal?"

"No," she squeaked. Where is my authority? I should tell him to knock this off.

"No deal?" Abshir smiled. He was going to push things further and see just how right She was. "You don't even know what I'm offering." He unbuttoned his pants and slowly lowered his zipper. His mother's eyes darted to what he was doing, but she didn't do anything to stop him.

Uba cringed. What is he doing? What is he doing? Her purse was still over her shoulder. She clutched at it, the weight of it felt reassuring and familiar.

"Let me show you what I'd put on the table for a deal." Abshir, in wonder that he was actually doing it, pulled down his pants and underwear. His mother gave a little yelp when she saw his long, heavy penis hanging between his legs. It was soft, but still quite a sight in its somnolent state. He lifted it and dropped it on the table with a satisfying thump. "This is what I have to offer, Mom."

"You've gone insane, Abshir." Uba's whole body tensed. She stared at the ugly appendage, with its heavy, bulging veins and strange domed head. I brought that repulsive thing into the world? She couldn't bring her gaze away from the penis. "You need help."
"You need to touch my dick." He spoke with such confidence.

Uba shrieked, pulled her purse off her shoulder, and assaulted the penis with it. She swung the heavy bag in an arc and it landed directly on the penis with a loud smack.

"Oooowwwwwwwoooooo!" Abshir howled and jumped back. Still crying out, he waddled out of the room with his pants around his ankles, and his hands between his legs.

Trembling, Uba went to her room and locked the door. She would wait for her husband to return home and then tell him everything.

~~

November 17, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund.

I'm breathless as I write this. I finally used my stolen copy of the key to gain roof access. But, of course, there was a hidden floor between 12 and the roof. I found the chapel.

Before going, I made sure Mrs. Creech was on the first floor. Then, I waited on 12 for a while, but saw no one. Then, I used the key and went up the stairs. The hidden floor was labeled 14, but I suspect that was done before it was closed off. No one wants to live on the thirteenth floor.

I moved slowly and cautiously. Investigating everything. The door to the chapel was open. It used to be apartment 14E, based on the ancient sign next to the door. I didn't find much inside.

The chapel has no walls, only support columns were left here and there. Pews line the wood floor, pointing toward a stage at the far end of the space. The windows are covered, but I didn't dare try the lights. There were unlit candles all about the room. Enough light did come in through the open door from the hall to see a crude, stone statue of a goddess on the stage. The creature is depicted with... ample proportions. I had my camera with me, and I took pictures. I'll develop them tomorrow and send copies to the firm. Something strange is going on here. The wood on the stage was stained a rust red in front of the statue. I've seen something similar in the den of the Bloomfield Killer. I fear the Ostrows may never have left the building. This is looking more and more like a dark cult.

After I finished in the chapel, I tried the other doors in the hall. All were locked. I was starting to suspect that the floor is vacant and used only for... whatever happens in the chapel. But then... I heard something behind the door to 14B. A woman was wailing inside. I almost forced the door to rescue her, but then the voice changed. It became more animal than human. It wasn't in distress. It was... making some other kind of noise. I shiver even now thinking about it.

I left the floor quickly. Nobody saw me.

This building may be a much more difficult case than I assumed. I'll need to talk to Brian. I doubt the Kwons know what sort of place they're living in. But... most tenants are probably aware. I need to figure out which of them attend chapel services. And the ones that do not need to be warned. Until I figure that out, I can't trust anyone. Anyone except for Brian. I was a fool to punish him with silence for so long. We're friends. He's a teen, and he lost his cool with me. That could happen to anyone. I hope he's okay. He's so sweet and innocent. I wonder what he's doing right now.

~~

November 19, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"Brian... please... we can't keep doing this." Darby looked over her shoulder at his closed door, rubbing her hands nervously on the front of her turtleneck sweater. She breathed in deeply. The smells of sweat and sperm should have made her run, but instead they offered a ballast to her troubled mind. "At least... we should stop... until you see the counselor."

"You're beautiful, Mom. You're mine." Brian stood naked in front of his clothed mother, his dick jutting out proudly in front of him. "We've finally found something we can do together." He picked up his trumpet and held it in front of him. "This makes us happy. How is a counselor going to improve on this? Is there anything in the world better than what we've been doing together?"

"It's... not right." Darby shivered as her fingertips lightly caressed the horribly bloated penis in front of her. "That infernal music... isn't right."

"But when I play, you can't stop." Brian laughed and lifted the trumpet to his lips. He played Cannonball by the Breeders. Thirty seconds into the song, his mother's head was bobbing on his dick in time to the music. She cupped his balls in each hand, squeezing them in rhythm.

Oh... gosh... we're doing it again. And I can feel his testicles pulsing to the beat. How is that possible? What's happening to us? But her questioning mind soon shut down, her thoughts lost to the pleasures of feeling what a man he'd become and the haze of the music they created together. "Mmmmmm... mmmpphhh... mmmmpphh... mmmhhh... hhhhmmmhhmmmm." She hummed the song around the giant head of his penis.

Brian didn't put down the trumpet until he'd played a whole set with his mother. When his climax arrived, he tossed the instrument away, arched his back, and screamed. He didn't care if he was bothering the neighbors. He didn't care if his mother's ears were already ringing. He let out his cry of ecstasy and triumph without reservations. The voice in the basement had been right. He would follow Her to the ends of the Earth. Although, he was happy that it seemed Ogganse had no interest in his leaving the building.

Oh... my... gosh... oh... my... gosh... oh... my gosh! Darby swallowed and swallowed his hot, salty stuff. Her son was a never-ending font of sperm. Her belly was already so full, and yet spurt after spurt continued. Each time she did this, it drove a wedge into her marriage. She should have told Greg everything the first time she'd performed oral sex on their son. Once was understandable. But now... how could she explain that she was doing it multiple times a day?

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh." Brian's muscles flexed and his body arched like he was leaning into a strong gale. His mother was busy gulping down his cum - a skill she had finally acquired hours before. His mother loved his music now. He barely had any reason to leave 3838 Walnut Street. He could stay there happily forever.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 07
Rosalin finally reconciles with Brian.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

November 20, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

Rosalin knocked on the door to 12C. It was the middle of the day and loud trumpet music vibrated from inside the apartment. She thought Brian was playing something from Nirvana, but she couldn't quite place the song. Rosalin knocked again and waited. Then she rang the doorbell and waited. Then she rang it again. Then she leaned on the bell. Finally, the door opened, and Brian stood looking at her with his brow furrowed in confusion. He was sweaty. Rosalin knew that playing music could be a workout. He wore baggy shorts and an oversized t-shirt. He must have just put those on, because they weren't yet soaked with sweat.

"Rosalin?" Brian's hair was sticking every which way. He absentmindedly flattened it by running his fingers from front to back. "What's ... um ... what's up?"

"Look, Brian. Can I come in?" She pushed past him into the apartment. She was so grateful to talk to her nineteen-year-old friend, that she didn't register the hard, heavy thing in his shorts that bounced off of her hip. "I went up to the thirteenth floor. And I took pictures. But my camera went missing before I could develop the film. I think someone burgled my place. I haven't left the building in days. When I was up there, I heard something in 14B, Brian, it ... um ... sounded barely human. And I -"

"Whoa ... chill, Rosalin." Brian closed the door. "We haven't talked since ... the basement. I think you need to catch me up on what ..." He paused as his mother walked into the room. Her mascara was running down her cheeks, but she'd cleaned the cum that had been running down her chin a few minutes before. "Oh, hey, Rosalin, this is my mom, Darby."

"Call me Mrs. Kwon, please." Darby's smile was dazed and distant. "I've heard a lot about you, Rosalin. How nice of you to stop by. Would you like some tea?" Without waiting for a response, Darby stumbled into the kitchen.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kwon," Rosalin said loudly. She lowered her voice and leaned toward Brian. "Is she okay?" She'd worked cases where people had been on drugs. Darby looked to be high as a kite.

"She's fine. I was just playing music with her. She really gets into it." Brian sat on the sofa with a view overlooking the park.

"Oh ... what instrument does she play?" Rosalin sat on the other end of the sofa. She was still wary after the kiss in the basement, but it was good to see her friend.

"She mostly hums along." Brian snickered. "So, what was all that about earlier?"

"Well, I think you and your family are in danger." Rosalin pressed her lips tightly together. "I think there's something evil in the building."

Brian shook his head. "That's just Her. And she's not evil. She's the reason Mom and I have gotten so close. She wants me to be the father of ..." Brian's eyes narrowed. "You went up past the locked door? How did you get up there?"

"Wait ... who wants you to be a father? Are you dating someone, Brian?" Rosalin tensed. Am I jealous? He's a teenager. And I love Dave. She wished she could leave the building to go see her fiancé, but ever since her camera had been stolen, she hardly dared to leave her apartment. The only times she'd exited 9B in the last few days were to drop off her reports in the building's outgoing mail, and to visit Brian now. To make matters worse, she couldn't call Dave, or anyone, because her phone line was down, and the maintenance staff needed to wait for the phone company to fix it.

"Yeah, sorta ... kinda dating someone." Brian nodded. "Oh, hey, Mom. Thanks for the tea."

Darby walked back into the living room carrying a tray of tea things. She served each of them with colorful cups, put the tray on the coffee table, and sat in an armchair close to Rosalin.

"So, Mrs. Kwon, how do ... um ... you like the building?" Rosalin sniffed the air. Darby smelled funky. Like sweat and ... something else. Something ripe. She stared into Darby's distant, brown eyes. Is the cult drugging her? Are they planning to make the Kwons members or sacrifices?

"I like it dear. At first, things seemed to be so chaotic here." Darby smiled and sipped her tea.

"But then, it became less chaotic?" Rosalin sipped her tea. It was some sort of green variety, hot but good. She relaxed a little.

"No." Darby shook her head slowly. "I embraced the chaos, I suppose. For a long while, I was literally trying to throw cold water on Brian's teenage behavior. But then I let him be himself, and now ... I don't know ..." A sudden clarity came into Darby's eyes. "Everything's different."

"Mom, you're embarrassing me." Brian watched his mother over the rim of his teacup.

"Have you been crying, Mrs. Kwon?" Whatever relaxation the tea had brought to Rosalin quickly disappeared. Her hackles were raised. Something was definitely wrong in the Kwon house. "Your mascara is running."

"Oh ... how silly." Darby wiped under her eyes with a tissue. She put down her teacup and stood. "I'm going to go freshen up. You two enjoy yourselves." She left the room.

"What's going on, Brian? Your mom is acting ... really strange." Rosalin put down her tea. She was suddenly worried she'd been drugged, too. Putting a finger to the inside of her wrist, she checked her pulse. It was normal. Her mind hadn't slowed. I'm being paranoid. But it was hard to argue with what where probably years of bloodstains in front of that statue upstairs.

"Don't be a bitch." Brian stood. He was suddenly angry. "My mother isn't strange. She's rad. She's the best mom ever."

"She's what?" Rosalin leaned away from him in her chair. She was taller than Brian, and she outweighed him. But she reacted to his ferocity.

"We haven't had sex. She's uncomfortable with that. And ... she only wants to blow me when I play music. But we will eventually. Once she's comfortable. Once ..." The cadence of Brian's words grew more rapid. "You don't believe me. You think I'm a loser that couldn't even fuck his own mom!"

"Brian ... I ... came here to save you from -" Rosalin's eyes were wide, her nostrils flaring. What is that smell? What did he just say?

"Stay there." He pointed at her. "I'll show you. I'll show why we should trust Her."

Rosalin watched him rush out of the room. Something odd happened right before he got to the door. He leapt, turning sideways. Did he just ... climb along the wall? She blinked her eyes. She must have been seeing things. The tea was drugged. I need to leave. But she sat and waited as she'd been commanded.

"Well ... Rosalin ... he wants to show you. As you are about to see, it's hard for me to say no to him. It's been such a whirlwind." Darby reentered the living room and got to her knees in front of the window. "I haven't told Greg, my husband, about this. You have to promise not to tell him." Darby paused. "Or anyone else."

"I ... um ... what's going on?" Rosalin couldn't understand why the housewife was waiting on her knees. "Are you about to pray with Brian?" She really was too late. The Kwons are already part of the cult!

"No ... we're not praying." Gone was all the dazed silliness Darby had shown before. Now, she looked quite pale and serious. She had cleaned up her mascara and put on a new turtleneck sweater. "I wish he didn't want to show you. But he does. And I just can't say no to him. I -"

Trumpet music started from another part of the apartment. It was lively, with a steady beat. Darby started bobbing her head to the rhythm, her worried face relaxing.

"I don't understand. Are you ...?" Rosalin's jaw dropped and her eyes went wide when Brian reentered the room. He was, of course, playing the trumpet. To Rosalin's stupefaction, he was also stark naked and dancing like a male stripper she'd once seen, thrusting his hips in time to the music. His penis was soft, but even so, it was much larger than any Rosalin had seen. And David wasn't her first. The dick flopped around absurdly as he moved his hips. She saw that his balls were enormous, too. They jiggled and bounced obscenely. Rosalin had seen crazy shit while on her cases, but nothing had prepared her for what she was witnessing.

"Are you sure about this, honey?" Darby had to yell to be heard over the music. She bobbed her head back and forth like she was at a concert. Her shoulders relaxed, her boobs bobbing under her sweater. "I only just met her. This seems ..."

Brian removed the trumpet from his lips and stopped dancing. An aggressive silence spread through the apartment. He looked deeply into his mother's eyes. "She says that we should do this, and She's never wrong. Let the wild in, Mom."

"Yes ... okay ... I'm letting the wild in." Darby pulled off her sweater, tossed it toward Rosalin and howled. "Awwwwoooooohhhhhhhh."

Rosalin caught the sweater on reflex and stared at the woman clad only in a bra and skirt. "You're not going to ..." Her voice was drowned out as Brian put the trumpet back to his lips. She watched him dance toward his mother like he wanted her to stuff dollar bills ... somewhere. He wasn't wearing underwear. "Oh ... God ... I'm staring at a teenager's dick. Dave isn't going to like this," Rosalin mumbled to herself.

As Brian arrived in front of his mother, he circled his hips to make his cock helicopter. Darby caught it out of the air, and with ease fostered by days of practice, she sucked the soft thing past her lips, making it grow.

"I have to ... leave .... I have to ... leave." Rosalin's voice was drowned out by the music. Nobody heard her. She didn't move from the sofa. Instead, she sat and watched the surreal spectacle. Her goofy, music-loving friend was playing his heart out while his mother was giving him the most soul-sucking blowjob Rosalin could imagine. It was such a compelling, erotic sight. She tried to tell herself that they weren't mother and son. That she was just ... somehow ... witnessing random oral sex ... maybe at one of those sex shows her friends talked about. But she couldn't pretend. Their faces looked too much alike. It was clear Brian had sprung from Darby's loins. And now ... she was going to coax something to spring from his loins. His penis grew huge, with dark veins snaking over the pale shaft. She didn't get a good look at the head of it, hidden as it was in Darby's bulging mouth.

Brian changed songs and increased the tempo. He stared over at his friend on the sofa. She looked beyond shocked. He could smell her arousal mixing in the air with his mother's. He made eye contact with her and winked. She didn't smile or wink back. Instead, she quickly turned her gaze back to the blowjob. He didn't blame her. His mother's slide into depravity was captivating. He turned his head to the side and peered down at his mother. She was staring up at him with all the motherly devotion she could muster. Her face was twisted and distorted by his large cockhead. Her brow was furrowed, and her thin arms were strained as she pumped the base of his dick with all her might.

"Wait ... wait ..." Rosalin could see Brian start to tremble. That's what Dave does before he ...

"Mmmm ... mmm ... mmm ... mmmmmmm," Darby hummed.

Rosalin stood. I need to leave. I can't watch this. I can't watch her do this to him ... to herself. But Rosalin only made it a few steps toward the front door before stopping and staring back at them. The Kwon union was so savagely intimate. And she was bearing witness. She couldn't leave.

A few more minutes passed, and the music stopped. Brian tossed the trumpet onto the sofa, arched his back, and roared. "Aaaaaahhrrrroooooorrrrrr!"

"Oh ... my ... God ... Oh ... my ... God!" Rosalin watched Darby shudder as she struggled to swallow the blasts of cum entering her mouth. The sight of Brian's pale, lithe body flexing and straining flipped some sort of switch inside Rosalin. He had told his mother to let the wild in, and Rosalin could feel the untamed force of the moment seeping into her, too.

When Brian's savage convulsions finished, Darby lifted her mouth off him with a plop. "Look ... at her ... Mom." Brian collapsed on the armchair. "Look at Rosalin ... so that ... she can see you."

"She just ... she just ..." Rosalin stuttered. When Darby turned her face her way, Rosalin saw that the dazed, silly expression had returned. White, viscous fluid was splattered on her lips and slowly dripped from her chin onto her exposed cleavage.

"Tell her ... how you feel ... Mom." Brian sighed, relaxing into the chair's cushions.

"I looooovvvve ... my sssssson." Darby's smile was feral.

Finally, without the spellbinding presence of Brian's music, Rosalin found the strength to turn and run. Out in the hall of the twelfth floor, she stumbled, looking over her shoulder. She was certain they would be chasing her. But there was no one behind her. They would be crazy to leave their apartment. Brian was naked. And Darby was dripping sperm. They won't chase me.

Rosalin made it to the elevator and hit the button repeatedly, looking back down the hall. The images of what she'd just seen were seared into her brain. Her sweet, shy friend had roared like an animal. And his once prim mother turning toward Rosalin, with that wild, cum-coated grin on her face.

The sound of something bellowing brought her back to the moment. She looked at the dial. The elevator was at ten and rising. The sound of frantic animals seemed to be coming through the elevator door, and growing louder as the car rose through the building.

She removed her finger from the call button and stepped back. The dial said the elevator was just passing eleven. The animalistic noises grew louder. Rosalin knew she shouldn't stick around to find out what was in the elevator. She turned and stumbled to the stairs. Just as she opened the door, she heard the elevator chime. Something large and heavy thumped out of the elevator and banged against the wall. She didn't look back. She slammed the door behind her and descended to the ninth floor as quickly as she could.

~~

March 5, 1940: Apartment 14A, the Creneling family.

"Ogganse will not be happy with you, Mrs. Creneling." Elizabeth stood in the kitchen of her neighbor's apartment, 14A. She was wearing a dress that Natalie had recently gotten tailored for her. The garment was a fine, wool herringbone number that hugged her new curves perfectly. Unfortunately, the sweetheart neckline had been ruined by a large kitchen knife sticking out of Elizabeth's chest. "I only wanted to mate with your husband. He wasn't going to be sacrificed."

"Oh ... God." Nancy Creneling couldn't understand how the woman was still upright. Nancy had plunged the knife into Elizabeth over a minute ago, and blood freely poured down the front of Elizabeth's dress. But her neighbor seemed unfazed. "We heard ... the unholy sounds coming from your apartment ... Mrs. Norwood," Nancy stammered. "Day and night. We never see Mr. Norwood anymore. Your eyes are glowing red as we speak. We know that ... you've made a bargain with the devil. Why won't you ... die?"

Royce Creneling stood next to his wife, slack-jawed. "What did you do, Nancy?"

With a horrible squelching sound, Elizabeth pulled the knife from her chest, walked it over to the sink, and put it in the basin. She turned back to her hosts, leaning her ample backside on the counter. The wound on her chest rapidly closed. "That was very rude of you, Mrs. Creneling. But I forgive you. If you promise to behave going forward, I'll let you watch as I mate your husband."

"I don't ... understand." Nancy was in shock, trembling in her own kitchen.

"I'm not sure I understand either. That's the problem. I know how it happened the first time." Elizabeth picked up a dishtowel and mopped the blood from the front of her ruined dress. "She has told me that she lived for eons just beyond the forest, through a looking glass of sorts. She was a powerful goddess, but uninterested in the lives that rose and fell on our side. Then, one day, she observed a stag return to the bevy of his birth. A group of does and an aging stag, his father, did not welcome him. The young buck fought so valiantly, that it stirred something in Ogganse's heart. She moved closer to our world and watched him depose his father. When the old stag was defeated, the young buck took over the bevy, and mounted each, including his mother." Elizabeth paused and closed her eyes. She could almost see it. "Especially his mother. It was beautiful and savage and it spoke to Her. Her soul focus centered on that buck. She found him enthralling."

"Please leave." Royce straightened his ascot and his spine. The tedious story had restored some of his courage, even if he couldn't understand how the woman had survived her injury.

"Shh." Elizabeth put a bloody finger to her lips. "It's not time for you to speak. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. The wolf. Even as the does carried our hero's first fawns in their bellies, a young wolf began to track our stag. Ogganse looked on in horror, but could do nothing from her side of the looking glass. From her world, she could only watch ours." Elizabeth spread her hands to encompass the kitchen. "Day after day, the wolf grew hungrier and more bold. And Ogganse grew more desperate to save her stag. She devised a plan to birth herself as a fawn. It was deep magic that required a sacrifice and the right alignment of the moon. She was lucky in her timing, but could not find the right sacrifice in her world, no matter how many she tried."

"I don't -" Nancy began.

"Shh." Elizabeth shook her head. "The wolf attacked before she could unpuzzle the spell. Only after the buck fell was Ogganse born into our world. Of course, she exacted terrible vengeance on the predator. But it was too late." Elizabeth fell into silence.

"What ... happened then?" Nancy whispered.

"She lived many centuries in our world. She was the mother to all who followed her, preserving her bevy in honor of the buck, and laying waste to her people's enemies. But she was vulnerable here, as she was not in her own world. And her power was coveted." Elizabeth shrugged. "A coven of decrepit hags tricked and trapped her, placing her in the Hungarian Lady. Again, she could only watch from behind a looking glass." In blood, Elizabeth drew a strange symbol on the Crenelings' counter. "I don't know how to get her out. I am an extension of her now. But I don't know how to help her. A blood sacrifice isn't right. So, now I must try to birth her a fawn." Elizabeth pushed herself off the counter. She unbuttoned her dress and slid it down her body.

Both Crenelings gasped at the perfection of their neighbor's curves. Improbably, Elizabeth wasn't wearing anything under her dress. Her breasts were enormous, and sloped mesmerizingly down her chest. Blue veins were prominent, meandering under her milky skin. Her belly was slightly curved, her waist narrow and her hips wide. There was a patch of raven hair in the V between her legs.

"Mrs. Creneling, please clean the blood off my skin. I don't want the gods to think this is also a sacrifice." Elizabeth smiled at her neighbors. "Remember, I urge you to be good. If you can behave, I'll let you watch your husband put a goddess inside me."

~~

March 15, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

"What's up with your brother?" Joe held Hani's hand as they walked through the park. "I never see him anymore."

"Well ... he's been acting weird the last few weeks." She looked over at Joe with a frown. "Weirder than normal, even." She adjusted her glasses. The park was beautiful, with the first pink cherry blossoms blooming nearby. "A few days ago, he showed his dick to my mom. Apparently, she hit it with her handbag."
"He showed his ... and she ... hit it ...?" Joe couldn't quite comprehend what she was telling him.

"When Mom told Dad, he smacked Abshir so hard it broke my brother's glasses." Hani tried not to show how much this all troubled her. She smiled. "Abshir has been grounded for life. I don't know when you'll see him again. Except at school."

"Shit ... that's horrible." Joe shook his head. "He's been avoiding me at school. What was he thinking?"

"I never know what men are thinking. You're wired wrong." Hani forced another smile and pulled Joe behind some cherry trees. "Even so, I just can't keep my hands off you." She raked her fingers over his sweater, feeling the hard abs underneath. "I don't want to think about my brother. Take my mind off it."

"Yes, ma'am." Joe grabbed her hijab and started to lift it off her head.

"No!" Hani's eyes went wide. She looked around, but they were well hidden.

"Okay, sorry. You just look so pretty without it, that's all." Joe smiled. Nothing seemed to bother him lately. He let go of the hijab and stroked her soft, brown cheek. "Are we official yet? Are you my girlfriend?"

Hani screwed up her face and rolled her eyes. "Just kiss me, dummy."

They made out behind the trees until the sun settled behind the buildings on the horizon. Hani let him feel her up. It was only fair, since she was doing an awful lot of feeling his hard, lithe body herself.

~~

March 16, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

"Hey ... Abshir ... slow down, dude." Joe jogged down the school hallway, trying to catch up to his friend.

Abshir looked over his shoulder and quickened his pace. Their classmates streamed around them as people rushed to next period.

"Wait up." Joe caught his friend and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm late." Abshir brushed off the unwelcome hand, rounded his shoulders, and hurried along.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing." Joe's longer strides let him easily keep up.

"You're always chasing me." Abshir shot him a scathing glare. "Stop chasing me."

"I'm not chasing you. We're friends, remember? We're such good friends that I still have your pillow. The one I borrowed when my hormones went haywire." Joe frowned. He thought that would have made Abshir smile. "Tell me what's going on. Can I help?"

"You can leave me alone." Abshir glared at his friend one more time and turned into the doorway of his next class.

Joe stood in the hall, looking into the classroom as the bell rang. He ran his hand through his hair. Did Abshir's eyes just flash red? He shook his head and turned toward class. No, it must have been light bouncing off his friend's glasses.

~~

March 5, 1940: Apartment 14A, the Creneling family.

"Don't give her your stiffy, Royce. Make it go down." Nancy wrung her hands as she tried not to look at her husband's hard penis. He was naked, lying on his back on their bed. Their next-door neighbor, now perfectly clean, climbed up on the mattress next to him. Nancy was the only one dressed. "Mrs. Norwood, you wouldn't want to cheat on Mr. Norwood. You must stop." It was ridiculous arguing with a woman that had pulled a knife from her own chest. Yet, Nancy persisted. Nancy had always gotten her way in life. That's what had led her to this wonderful penthouse apartment in this marvelous building. Unfortunately, it had also led her to this terrible moment, as she watched the shapely, round cheeks of Elizabeth's butt quiver while she mounted Royce. "Shut your eyes and think of England, Royce," Nancy said.

"I don't care if you do think of England, Mr. Creneling." Elizabeth settled the modest penis into her vagina. She placed her hands on the man's pale chest, her claws retracted. Her hips began their undulations, cajoling his climax.

"I cannot shut my eyes, darling." Royce stared at the breathtaking breasts shaking in front of him. Had his wife really stabbed that chest? His mind rebelled as he tried to piece together the day's events. "It would be like ... uuuugghhhh ... not viewing ... the most magnificent work of art ... in the world."

"Oh ... no." Nancy felt like lifting the lamp in the corner and slamming it into Elizabeth's raven hair. But she didn't want to anger the woman. "Close your eyes, Royce." She sat on the edge of the bed behind them, with a full few of her husband's penis pumping in and out of another woman's gash. She could see Elizabeth's butthole, which was a view she would have never anticipated in life. She looked away from that winking hole, but that only led to her admiring the arch of the woman's back, and Elizabeth's wonderfully full sideboob, jiggling with her motions. "I feel ... strange." With the very hand that had stabbed a woman an hour before, Nancy massaged her vagina under her skirt.

"Too ... beautiful ... too ... beautiful!" Royce was already on the edge.

"Yes ... yes ... and I am just a pale shadow ... of the goddess trapped on the other side. None ... will resist her ... when she's reborn." Elizabeth slammed her hips into the man below her. This was only the second man she'd lain with. But he was also one of thousands. She saw him with her own eyes, but the eyes of the forest peered out of her, too. "Plant it ... in me ... uuuggghhhh ... yessssss ... I am fertile ... I will bear fruit ... for Her."

"I'm going to ... I'm going to ..." Royce gritted his teeth. He desperately wanted to reach out and feel the weight and warmth of her breasts. But, at the same time, he dared not upset this strange creature that was humping him to completion.

"Yesss ... yessss ... aawwwwwoooooooooooooo." Elizabeth threw her head back and let in the wild.

The cry from Elizabeth tore the air in the room and ripped right through Nancy, setting off sparks of pleasure within her. "Ohhhhhh ... my ..." Nancy shivered as she orgasmed at the same time as her husband and his new partner. All three were quick on the draw.

"Nnnnnggggggg." Finally, Royce shut his eyes. But he wasn't thinking of England. He had never felt anything like his strange neighbor's vagina. His body tensed and shook under her.

When her mate's moment was over, Elizabeth carefully dismounted him and rolled onto her back. She placed her feet on the pillows behind her shoulders, arching her hips upward. "Leave me now. I must let the seed germinate in my field."

"But this ... this is our bedroom." Nancy removed her slick, sticky hand from under her skirt. "Shouldn't you go back to your own apartment?"

Elizabeth gave them a lupin smile. "Silly, woman. I'm bringing my apartment to you." Without moving her position, she shooed the woman with her hand. She was aware that her vagina was on full display and couldn't be bothered to care. "Go, before I get cross with you."

Nancy pulled her husband to his feet, and without even bothering to dress him, dragged him out of the room. She was so conflicted that her mind was starting to sunder and strain under the burden of deciding a course of action. She wanted to murder the homewrecker. Even if it was impossible, she wanted it. But she also, desperately, wanted to see her husband mate with Elizabeth again. Ultimately, it was too much for her. Several steps into the living room, Nancy fainted at her husband's feet.

Royce, bewildered and dazed, looked down at his fallen wife. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he was sure something fundamental had changed in their lives.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 08
The wolf stalks the stag.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

November 21, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund.

I haven't left my apartment since I returned yesterday. I have no phone. I have no way to contact Nathaniel ... or Dave to rescue me. I don't even dare go down to the first floor to check my mail, or send a distress letter. The gargoyles have moved. They now peer into my apartment from the sides of my windows with evil written on their stone faces. I screamed like a little girl when I saw them this morning. Since then, I closed the drapes. I've been sitting in my apartment with all the lights on.

I hear things. Thumps. Moans. Shrieks. The sounds are muffled and distant, but they are no longer the innocent background noises of living in a building.

Brian and his family only moved here recently. If they could be recruited into this evil cult so fast, then I must assume the whole building is in on it. I imagine them all humping in some mad frenzy. There is some sort of rolling, midsummer bacchanalia hidden in each apartment. I can feel it.

I hear distant rhythmic thumping right now. Mrs. Breaming seemed like such a nice, quiet lady. I've mentioned her before in this diary. Her son lives at home. He doesn't have a job. Her husband works as a janitor here. I know he has a shift at this hour. But if I put my ear to the wall we share, I can hear her feral cries. She's having sex, and I don't think it's with her husband.

I'm trapped. I'm ... Someone is knocking on the door. It's Brian again. This is the third time today he's pounded on my door, telling me he wants to make music with me and his mother. God damn, this is worse than confronting the Bloomfield murderer. I had an escape plan then. Now, I'm stuck in a building with mad people that want me brainwashed. Or worse. I keep thinking about those stains in the chapel. What happened to the Ostrows? A mother, father, and daughter vanished.

At least I was smart enough to pack my S/W .38 for this assignment. I sleep with it on my nightstand and keep it next to me at all times in the apartment. If my phone doesn't come back on before I run out of food, I may need to make a run for it. I suppose I do have an escape plan after all. Just not a very good one. I have no proof of murders, so I don't want to shoot my way out of 3838 Walnut Street.

What I want and what might happen are two very different things it seems.

~~

December 24, 1954: Apartment 4F, the Lavey family.

"I'm glad I met you, you're a good sport." Billy lifted his beer in salute to his friend. Christmas music played on the turntable. His mother was busy in the kitchen. His father was cleaning the building's messes. And he was sitting in his father's recliner, enjoying Christmas Eve with Bradley Dodgson from 9B. In the month since their meeting, they had become good friends. "You're a prime sport."

"And so are you." Bradley smirked, sipped his beer, and leaned forward in his armchair. He lowered his voice. "Is that really your baby in your mom's belly?"

Billy nodded enthusiastically. "I humped her for the first time right there." He pointed to a spot on the ceiling.

"Wow." Bradley guffawed and leaned back in this chair. "How did you get up there?"

"Well ... She gave me the power." Billy frowned. "Can't you do that, too?" He had assumed that he and his friend were the same.

"Walk on the ceiling?" Bradley shook his head. "But I believe it."

"You haven't ... have you ... um ..." Billy felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. "Have you fucked your mom?"

"Not interested. I don't think we're the same, Billy. Although, I do have an easy time with women now." Bradley shrugged and took another swig of beer from his bottle. The record played Silver Bells with Bing Crosby. Bradley gave Billy a thoughtful look. "When She speaks to you, have you noticed that She has the same voice as Elizabeth?"

"No ... they both sound beautiful ... but I ..." Billy suddenly stood. Something was wrong, he could feel the need to run from the building. "Mom? Mom?!?"

Bradley watched his friend, amused at the outburst.

Betsy raced into the room, her large boobs and belly bouncing under her Christmas sweater and apron. "What's wrong, Billy?" Her eyes were wide with concern.

"Yeah, what's wrong, sport?" Bradley finished his beer and put the empty bottle down on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Bradley. You have to go." Billy moved to the front door, opened it, and peeked outside. The hall was empty. He took a deep breath. Something is coming for me. I can smell it.

"Thanks for the beer." Bradley got up, strolled over to Betsy, and patted her bottom. He enjoyed her surprised squeal. "I suppose I should be going. I have a couple women lined up for a date tonight."

"You're dating two women at once?" Betsy shouldn't be scandalized. Not after everything that had happened to her in that building. But still, the thought of this young, brash man servicing two women ... She shut her eyes tight. He's just bragging. He's not really dating two women.

"Two women at once?" Bradley strolled through the front door out into the hall. "Sure enough. I have to keep busy. Not all of us fuck our mothers."

"Goodnight." Billy closed the door on him and jumped up to the ceiling. It felt safer up there. His eyes glowed crimson in the shadows of the upper corner of the room.

"Billy, get down. What are you doing?" Betsy looked up at him, confused. "Do you want to do it up there again?" She untied her apron and took it off. She lifted her skirt for him to see. "I'm not wearing panties, sweetie. I thought you might want me after dinner, but we can do it now."

"There's something wrong, Mom." He scurried along the ceiling, reached down, and lifted her. With her developing pregnancy, she wasn't as light as she used to be, but he didn't have any trouble holding her. He brought her back to a dark corner of the ceiling, and lifted her sweater. She wasn't wearing a bra. That was good. He pressed his face into her tits and feasted on her dark nipples.

"Ooohhhhhhh ... Billy ... you're being so rough with them ... I can feel ... uuuggghhhh ... how tense you are." Betsy ran her hands through her hair. "Mommy ... will make it better ... my breasts are yours ... Billy ... comfort yourself ... yeesssssssss ... Mommy will ... take care of you." Not long after, his penis was inside her as she knew it should be. He thrusted her for a good long while on the ceiling. Her legs flopped out to the sides, hanging awkwardly. But she was used to that by now. She murmured reassuring things in his ear as his grunting grew louder and louder. The record was finished. It was skipping by the time he finished in her and lowered them both to the floor. Standing on trembling legs, she gave her son a dazed smile. "Better?"

"Yeah, Mom ... thanks." He nodded, but didn't meet her eyes. He was always embarrassed by these spells of fear. It seemed to be happening more and more often. He could see her dripping on the carpet. His dad would have to clean that later. He was still panting, but from exertion rather than dread. "I'm going ... to finish ... my beer." He pulled up his pants and sat in his father's recliner.

"Oh ... my ..." Betsy was panting too, trying to settle her mind after several searing orgasms. "The bird is ... still in the oven. I'll ... go finish ... dinner." She stumbled back to the kitchen.

Billy sat and sipped from his bottle, thinking. The record on the turntable continued to skip, but he paid no attention to it.

~~

March 18, 1940: Apartment 14A, the Creneling family.

"Nancy, I'm home. I hope dinner's ready because I'm starving." Royce hung up his coat by the front door. "I was thinking, maybe it's time to move. That was such an odd thing that happened with our neighbor. She's insane, right? And the knife ... it must have been some trick." He walked into the kitchen, but his wife wasn't there. It didn't seem that there were any sort of preparations for dinner underway. "Nancy? I really do think we should move. I know how upset you were. And what if she does get pregnant? We'll want to be far away from here, I'm sure." He walked into the living room, expecting to find his wife there. "Nancy?" He got no reply.

There were faint sounds of a woman muttering and moaning. It sounded like Nancy might be in pain. Royce followed her soft voice down the hall. What if that horrible woman had returned and stabbed Nancy to return the favor? "Nancy, are you in there?" He tried the handle of their bedroom door. It was locked. He wasn't sure Nancy had heard him, she kept moaning. What if Elizabeth Norwood stabbed my poor Nancy, and she can't answer me? What if she's dying? He knocked loudly. "Nancy, are you okay?"

"Aaaahhhh ... Royce ... she's stabbing me ... with it." Nancy's panicked voice was muffled and faint.

Royce slammed his shoulder into the door. It cracked.

"Royyyyccceee ... she's in me ... it's ... it's ... doing something ... inside. I ... uuugghhhhhh ... can feel it!" Nancy screamed.

"My ... God!" Royce hit the door again. It splintered but didn't break. My wife is being murdered right now. There's a knife embedded in her. He didn't want to be unprepared, so he turned back down the hall. Running back to the kitchen, he grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter and raced back to his bedroom. He threw his weight against the door, and it burst open.

"Oooohhhhh ... Royce." Nancy was on her back on their bed, her toes pointing at the ceiling. She clutched their blanket with both hands, her upper body twisting from side to side. She lifted her head and looked over the woman hungrily eating her box. Just above the wide, heart-shaped outline of Elizabeth's butt, her husband stared at her, dumbfounded. She saw that he was holding a knife. She watched him drop it to the floor. "Eeeeiiiiiiiiii." Nancy shuttered. "She's ... stabbing me ... with her tongue ... it's so long ... and thick ... and it's ... uuuuggghhhh ... doing something to meeeeeee. You have to stop her ... Royce." But Nancy herself, made no move to push their neighbor from between her legs.

"Nancy ... oooohhhhhh ... no." Royce was taken by their neighbor's wonderfully perfect, round ass, wiggling ever so slightly as she held it high in the air. He could see his wife's face above it. Poor Nancy looked beside herself.

With a hideous slurping sound, Elizabeth removed her unnaturally long tongue out of her neighbor's vagina. She turned and looked over at the silly, shocked man. Her tongue lolled for a moment, hanging past her chin, waving side to side. She retracted it and smiled. "Welcome home, Mr. Creneling. You and your wife will serve Her, and you will serve me. I don't think your seed took root the other day, stick it back in and try again. You will father a goddess." She turned back to Nancy, extending her tongue deep into the woman's womb.

"The ... room." Royce looked around as he lowered the trousers of his suit. There were ferns growing up from the floor, and both nightstands had been smashed to splinters. He lowered his underwear and shuffled forward, his garments restricting the motion of each step. There was also green moss growing on his blanket. His mind couldn't process that information, so he ignored it. Instead, his focus zeroed in on the glistening vagina before him. To his surprise, he found that he was already hard.

"Royce ... don't put it in her ... agaaaaiiiiiinnnnnn." Nancy watched her husband's stupid eyes bug out as he entered their neighbor. He looked like a boy given a free pass for anything in the candy store. "You're ... you're ... copulating ... with Mrs. Norwood. She's ... uuuggghhhhhhh ... evvviiillllllll." Nancy looked away from her husband down to the slurping face between her legs. Her neighbor's lips were glued to Nancy's vagina, but she was looking up at Nancy with those horrible, glowing red eyes. "What ... do you want ... from us?"

"Sssaaavvvaaaasssss." Elizabeth had a hard time saying the words with her tongue buried in the wet crevasse.

Nancy understood her. The woman wanted servants. And Nancy's abilities to resist Elizabeth were fading as quickly as her ecstasy grew. "Ooohhhhh ... Royce ... oooohhhhhh." She looked at her stupefied husband. Nancy had led her whole life commanding other people around. She couldn't begin to understand what it would be like to have to follow orders. "Royce ... she's ... uuuugghhhh ... going to turn us ... into servants. Stop ... seeding her ... she's putting a seed ... in me ... I can feel it ... I can feel it ... it's ... evil ... and ... uuuggghhhhhh ... it feels like ... Heaven ... eeeeiiiiiiiiii." Nancy screamed out another climax while her husband humped another woman for the second time.

~~

March 28, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

"Abshir? Hani?" Uba stepped into her apartment. She knew her son was home. He was grounded, so where else could he be? She hoped her daughter was also home. The young woman was supposed to help her with laundry that afternoon. And, Uba didn't like to be alone with her son these days.

Uba sighed, easing her tension. Her husband had straightened the boy out. She didn't approve of that sort of punishment, but Abshir had earned it from his father. Pulling out his penis in front of her? That was wicked. It had been weeks, but she still couldn't get the heavy, veiny thing out of her mind. She sat wearily in the kitchen. "Hani? We've got laundry to do." She heard scurrying and looked around. Did they have mice in the walls? That would be another thing to deal with. She looked around the room, trying to pinpoint the sound of the noise. When her vision came back around to the other side of the table, her son sat there with his hands clasped. Uba let out a little shriek. "Goodness, where did you come from?"

"I'm hungry, Mom." He took in his mother's beauty, appreciating every fetching curve and line on her face.

Uba took a deep breath. "Make yourself a snack." She had noticed that his appetite had returned to somewhere near normal in the last few weeks. That was something, at least.

"Not that kind of hungry." He adjusted his glasses and smiled at her.

"'Not that kind of hungry'?" She shook her head. "Where's your sister? She's supposed to help me with laundry this afternoon."

"Hani's out with Joe." Abshir shrugged. "How was work?"

"It was tiring. So please don't make my life harder, okay?" Uba stood. She needed to get him out of the apartment. "Why don't you do the laundry?"

"I'm grounded, Mom." Abshir watched her curves roll under her modest dress. Will I ever see her naked? If I believe Her, I will. I'll have Mom. I'll father a goddess. "You'll have to come down to the basement with me."

"Why is it that grounding you turns out to be more work for me?" Uba rolled her eyes at her son. Her husband was keeping Abshir in line. At least she didn't need to worry about more lewd behavior. "Fine, I'll go with you. Give me a minute to drink something cold and take a shower."

"Sure, Mom." Abshir smiled at her backside as she went to the fridge. They were going to the basement together. This was a golden opportunity.

On the same floor in a different apartment, Hani was lying on Joe's bed. Her hijab was folded neatly on the back of his chair, and her black curls cascaded down onto his blanket. She was on her side, watching him. He sat cross-legged on the bed, smiling at her. She had a hard time believing how charismatic and handsome he was. "You pulled a real ugly duckling switch on me. How are you the same gawky dude we met on our tour?" She could see his pectoral muscles bulging through his t-shirt, and his arms were wonderfully corded.

Joe flexed his arm, kissed his bicep, and laughed. He winked at her.

Hani frowned. "Sometimes I feel like you're just playing me. Like you could get any woman."

"I probably could?" He shrugged, still unsure where all his confidence was coming from. But that was the great thing about confidence; he didn't care where it was coming from.

"So ... aren't you going to say something reassuring to the poor, self-conscious girl lying on your bed?" Her frown deepened.

Joe made a show of looking around his room. "I don't see anyone like that around here. Just you, Hani." He leaned toward his desk and pulled out his pipe. "Want a hit? It's good weed."

Hani's frown disappeared. "Your mom's home. I don't think we're allowed to smoke in here."

"Well then, you shouldn't have taken off your hijab." He gave her his winning smile.

"Oh, you're such a bad influence." She laughed, took the pipe from him, and lit up. She held it in her lungs while he did the same. When he put the pipe down, she pulled him on top of her, blowing smoke in his face. "You're smoking hot, too, dummy." She raked his back with her fingers. "Now, I'm going to grope your muscles for a while. How do I shut you up so I can focus on your body?"

"Kiss me?" Joe smiled down at her, admiring the laugh lines on her perfect face.

"Yeah, I figured that would work." She nodded in mock sincerity up at him. "Just try not to get too excited. I don't what you to poke me with your dick again. You nearly gave me a Charley horse the last time we did this." She playfully rolled her eyes as he settled on top of her. She felt it. "Oh, my God. Really, Joey? You've already got a woody?" He was indeed poking her hip with his dick.

"It's your fault, Hani." Joe laughed and pressed his lips to hers. Pretty soon they were making out on his bed, their hands busily roaming each other's bodies.

In the basement, Uba and Abshir left the elevator carrying baskets of laundry.

"Yes, I hear you, Ogganse," Abshir mumbled.

"What?" Uba glanced at her odd son. He had been her little, shy boy for so long. But at eighteen, he was alien to her now.

"I love you, Mom." Abshir smiled at her and put down his laundry basket.

"I ... love you, too." Uba's eyes were playing tricks on her. It seemed that her son's eyes were glowing. She looked behind her to see what was reflecting the red color off his glasses, but saw only washing machines with their pale displays. "Why don't we first separate out the whites?" Uba put down her basket on the folding table and got to work. They sorted laundry side by side for a while, until she happened on a stash of his socks. They were crusty and stiff. "You hardly exercise. What have you been doing to these?"

Abshir paused sorting, tilted his head, and listened to the room for a moment. He nodded. "Smell them."

"I'm not smelling a teenage boy's socks." Uba adjusted her hijab, rolled her eyes in disgust, and curled her lip. "What has gotten into you? Ever since we moved into this ..." She found herself contemplating the vile bits of laundry. Does sweat make cotton so stiff? She didn't think so. She moved the sock closer to her nose, but hesitated. The washing machines hummed, the dryers clanged and thumped their loads around and around. "Is this ...?"

"Just give it a sniff, Mom." Abshir smiled innocently. When she glanced at him, he gave her an encouraging nod. "One sniff, and you'll know."

"One sniff ... and ... I'll know?" Uba's brain grew fuzzy. She wished she'd brought her purse with her. But if she had to assail her son, perhaps a bottle of laundry detergent would work just as well. She thought about dropping the sock and reaching for the detergent, but couldn't bring herself to make the exchange. The sounds in the room seemed to converge into one pulsing beat. "You're a man now, Abshir. But ... you don't have a woman. You're confused ... I think. You've made innocent socks into your women, haven't you?" She inched the sock toward her nose.
Abshir laughed. "Dad wouldn't want me to say. I have bruises and tape on my glasses from the last time I tried to show you my problem. You tattled on me to Dad." He tapped his glasses where he'd been forced to mend them.

"Why did we move to the city? I told Taban that we were better off with our own house, and a yard, and none of the complications ..." The sock arrived at her nose. Uba held her breath, squeezing the disgusting thing tightly in her hand.

"Smell the sock, Mom." Abshir watched her with intensity. He held his breath, too.

My mind is swimming. The room is pulsing. Abshir wants me to smell his spent seed. There's no way. I won't do it. Much to Uba's surprise, she inhaled deeply. A wave of sensation crashed over her. The scent was, of course, vile. And it was also the most intoxicating thing Uba had ever encountered. Her knees trembled. She inhaled again, deeper this time, her body tensing as she brought his scent into her lungs. Her mind stumbled in a fog. She was so captivated, that it took her a moment to notice that she was standing in the dark. The lights had gone out. For a moment, she could see by the glow of the machines' digital displays. But then those went out, too. The room fell into silence. She nearly melted when her son put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Do you see the roots, Mom?" Abshir could hear his mother still huffing the sock.

"The young buck will return and mount his mother." Ogganse's voice sounded like it was being whispered in his ear. "Don't rush. Let her adjust to this new truth."

"I'm the young buck. You're my mother." Abshir's explanation was earnest.

Uba's only response in the dark was the sound of her snuffling through the dirty sock.

"I asked if you saw the roots. You didn't answer." Abshir moved deftly through the blackness toward the faintly glowing mold on the basement walls. It pulsed with a steady, carmine rhythm. "We live in a special building, Mom. And we are the two most special people in it. The statue set down roots here a long time ago. Shortly after the building was built, I think. The Hungarian Lady, She calls it. She's been waiting for the right moon for decades. And now ... it's almost here. Bring back the lights, Ogganse."

The lights flickered back on. The machines started spinning around them again.

Uba was lightheaded and shaky. Her son's sock gave off the aroma of life itself. Like the soft plinth of a primordial forest floor, propping up a whole ecosystem. She saw that her son had his penis out. It wasn't soft like last time. The massive thing angrily pointed directly at her. Her son was pointing it at her. Slowly, she lowered the sock from her nose. "What's ... happening ... Abshir? Why ... um ...?" She licked her lips, and her mind swam away from her. She grasped for her thoughts, clinging to any sanity she could. She knew she should also reach for the detergent bottle. She needed to quash his erection like the giant, ugly cockroach that it was. She stared at it. Every aspect of his penis revealed aggression and power: the flare of the head ... the gnarled veins ... the way it bounced slightly with his pulse ... the liquid leaking from it like a snake spitting venom. "Your father -"

"He isn't here, Mom." Abshir's hands hung by his sides. He didn't need to fap. His mother was going to do that for him in a minute. This is what She had promised. The moment was here. "Dad doesn't even matter now. He had his chance with you. He failed. It's my turn now."

"She's resisting," Ogganse said. "Don't let her wiggle away."

Abshir nodded to the unseen goddess. His mother's dazed expression hadn't changed. Apparently, only he could hear Ogganse. That made him even more special. "Come here ... Mom. Come here ... on your knees ... and serve Her. This is our future."

Uba took an unsteady step toward her son. Her mind was in turmoil. Right and wrong camped out in novel places. She had no idea what she was going to do about her son, but she could feel the familiar chains of civilization around her. The bonds were slipping.

~~

February 1, 1955: Apartment 4F, the Lavey family.

"Run, Billy, run!" Betsy tried to keep up with her son, but her pregnancy made her body clumsy, and she was never much of an athlete to begin with. She ran ten feet behind Billy, willing her body to move faster. They were in the ninth-floor hall nearing the elevator when the heel on her left shoe snapped. She fell to her hands and knees. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. "Don't wait for me, run!"

Billy stopped at the entrance to the stairs and looked back. The door to 9B was open as he'd left it.

Bradley suddenly burst out of the 9B doorway, his momentum taking him across the hall. He slammed into the wall, fell to all fours, and lurched after Billy with a snarl.

"Bradley ... we're friends." Pure fear surged through Billy. He left his mother on the hallway floor and entered the stairwell. She told me to run. I need to run. He expected to find himself descending, heading back to the safety of his apartment. But instead, he found he was going in the opposite direction. He jumped and clambered onto the outer wall, winding his way quickly upward.

Bradley passed the whimpering woman, paying her no attention. His body wasn't made for bounding on all fours, but somehow it wasn't a problem. He gained on Billy, smelling growing fear in the air. "I'm coming for you ... Billy," Bradley snarled. "This ... this is what ... it's all been leading to. I was ... chosen for this." He was only one landing behind, now. He could see his prey scampering along the wall like a terrified squirrel. It filled Bradley with elation. "Awwwwoooooooooooooo." They were nearing the twelfth floor, and Bradley was closing the gap. He wouldn't have to wait much longer for his prize.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 09
Plans break down. Plans come together.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

February 1, 1955: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

It was quiet and peaceful. The windows were open, letting in a soft breeze and birdsong. Elizabeth looked out at the mighty trunks and heavy branches of ancient trees. She spread her legs and held Natalie's brown hair firmly. The slurping sounds were a pleasant undercurrent to the singing birds and noises of wind rustling leaves. The moss was soft and velvety under her bare butt. The ferns in the room waved and bobbed in the breeze, almost in time to Natalie's licking and sucking. Elizabeth held her massive breasts, gifts from the Goddess, and rolled her nipples. "It took you a few years ... Mrs. Creech ... but you perfected your technique almost ... oooohhhhhh ... a decade ago. How many ... blessed orgasms ... have you given me ... in that time?"

"Thawthan," Natalie said around the vagina in her mouth.

"Yes, thousands. And now ... aaaahhhhh ... only a few more ... before ... it happens. Soon, She will return. Things ... will be different ... for all of New York. That will be ..." Elizabeth suddenly tensed. She pushed Natalie's face from between her legs. "Get up and close the windows. I need to smell the building."

Natalie nodded. She didn't wipe off her face as she rose. Nor did she cover her nakedness. She knew her mistress preferred her with a more basic look. She padded over the loamy soil that now made up the apartment floor and shut the windows. When she turned back to Elizabeth, she was proud to find that the woman was staring at Natalie's pale butt. But Natalie's stomach turned when she saw the expression on that lovely face. Elizabeth looked pained. "What is it, mistress?" Natalie said.

"Clean and dress me." Elizabeth rose to her feet on the mossy bed and held out her arms parallel to the ground. "Do it quickly. Something's wrong."

"Yes, ma'am." Natalie gave a naked curtsy, playfully flopping her own left boob as her knees bent. Normally, Elizabeth smiled at the gesture, but Natalie received no such joy this time. Something really was wrong.

Elizabeth cocked her head and listened to the building. "No time for that now. Hurry, Mrs. Creech."

"Yes, ma'am." Natalie raced through the apartment, went out into the hall, and entered 14A. While her mistress's apartment was mostly forest now, the others on that floor were less wild. A, C, and D had only a few aspects of the forest poking through. E and F had been hollowed out and joined to make the temple. Whatever Elizabeth kept from civilization, she stored in A, including her wardrobe. Natalie selected a dress she'd had tailored for Elizabeth's changed body back in 1940. She grabbed a brush for her mistress's hair, and rushed back to 14B.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth stepped out of her apartment, heading quickly toward the stairs. "Do you hear that, Mrs. Creech?" Elizabeth turned to her servant as Natalie slipped into her own dress as they walked.

"A heard a howl, mistress." Natalie buttoned up as they hurried along. Their bare feet barely made any noise on the carpet. She touched her face, feeling Elizabeth's drying juices there. She had cleaned her mistress but not herself. Apparently, there wasn't time. So, Natalie grabbed the hem of her skirt and did a quick facial rub to make herself presentable. She didn't know what was wrong, or if they would be faced with outsiders when they left the now secret floor.

"It's the wolf ... the fucking wolf ... he's done it again." Elizabeth pulled open the door to the stairs and leapt with grace down the first flight.

"The wolf?" Natalie couldn't make sense of that. But she knew Elizabeth hated the wolf. The creature was essential, but he was nefarious. What did he do? She followed Elizabeth as best she could. She saw her mistress burst out into the twelfth-floor hall, and the door closed behind her. Even through the door, she could hear her mistress's scream of sorrow and horror. A moment later, Natalie entered the hall and stopped next to her mistress. Elizabeth was no longer screaming, but Natalie could hear a low hiss emanating from deep inside her.

Lying in the hall outside apartment 12B was Billy Lavey. His skin was pallid. His eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling. His throat had been torn savagely on the left side, a gaping hole still pumped blood out onto the carpet below him, forming a crimson pool around his upper half.

Bradley Dodgson stood above his friend, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his jaws. The young man looked ecstatic. When he turned his eyes toward Elizabeth and Natalie, there seemed to be little intelligence left in his soul. He was the wild hunt.

"What have you done?" Elizabeth couldn't keep the grief out of her voice. "We timed it just right. The moon would have been perfect. All that work." She dropped to her knees, aware that doors were opening around her and tenants were peeking out. "You've ruined everything, Bradley."

"But ... Ogganse said ..." Bradley blinked, his mind slowly returning to him.

"Oh ... my sweet stag ..." Elizabeth crawled along the hall toward the boys. "Dead too soon." She heard tenants muttering about calling the police. She stopped and surveyed the hall. She could see horror and confusion written on people's faces. She needed more control over the building. It wouldn't do to have an investigation, but she could see it was inevitable. "Watch out! Everyone is in danger!" She put a mask of fear into her voice. "Mr. Dodgson has murdered his friend and is threatening to kill himself. He may murder again. It might be one of us. Look at him!" She pointed an accusing finger at Bradley's bloody face. "For your own safety, stay in your apartments."

People scurried back into their apartments. Soon, there were only the boys, Elizabeth, and Natalie in the hall.

"Kill myself?" Bradley grinned. "Not at all, Mrs. Norwood. I've never been more thrilled to be alive. Didn't I do what you asked? Didn't I hunt him like you said?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath and rose to her feet. She shook her shoulders back and forth, placating the dumb beast with the sight of her jiggling breasts. She knew this creature desired her. She walked toward him, her hips swaying, her face solemn. She could hear Natalie holding her breath behind her.

"My reward? You're going to give me my reward, aren't you?" Bradley's crimson smile widened. "I can have any woman now. Even you."

"Not quite." Elizabeth stopped next to him, forced a smile onto her face, and extended her claws by her sides. She didn't know why she bothered with the smile. He wasn't looking at her face. His eyes were still glued to the slope on the front of her dress. "I wish you could guide me, Ogganse. I long to hear your voice." She sighed. "I have failed again. But I will keep trying. I will free you."

"I don't understand. I thought you talked to Her." Bradley furrowed his brow in confusion. "Didn't She say that ... gggggffffffffttttt." Elizabeth's hand moved so fast, he could barely track it. He put his hands up to his throat, shock written on his face.

"It was a murder-suicide, Natalie. You saw it." Elizabeth watched Bradley drop to his knees before her, blood running through the fingers he held to his neck. "He savagely killed Billy and then slit his own throat."

"Gggggaaaaccckkkkk," Bradley said as he pitched to the side.

"Yes, ma'am." Natalie nodded her head, listening to the young man's last, dying gurgles.

Soon, stag and wolf were lying motionless, side by side.

"It will take decades to find the right moon again." Elizabeth retracted her claws, bent down, and wiped her hand clean on Bradley's trousers. "I am filled with sorrow, Mrs. Creech."

"Me too." Natalie went up to her mistress and put a hand on her shoulder.

The stairwell door burst open and Betsy stumbled out. She was panting and holding her swelling belly. It took her a moment to focus on what had happened in the hall. When realization struck, she let out a long, wrenching wail and sank to her knees. "Billy ... Billy ... nnnoooooooooooooo," she sobbed.

"See that we care for Mrs. Lavey." Elizabeth stood, turned to her servant, and looked deeply into the woman's eyes. "The stag's child may still be useful. I will start planning for the next try." Elizabeth turned toward the door to her floor. "We need to own this building, Mrs. Creech. Come up with a plan for that. And we need to vet these tenants. We need believers around us. We will do better." She had to raise her voice to be heard over Betsy's wails. Shaking her head, Elizabeth ascended back to her forest above Manhattan.

~~

March 28, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

"Your father should not have brought us here." Uba stared down at the horrible penis her son was presenting to her. It was a thing made for destruction. Not a nice modest penis made for creation, like her husband's. How could something like that have come from her womb? She shook her head, trying to regain some clarity.

"My father has made two good decisions. Can you guess what they are?" Abshir adjusted his glasses, taking in every subtle, confused shift on her pretty face. Why is her shock at the sight of my dick so wonderfully perfect? Watching her now is more satisfying than eating the best meal in New York.

"I ... he's made many good decisions." Uba shook her head.

"One." Abshir held up one finger and smacked his dick for emphasis. It bobbed up and down. "Dad had sex with you at least once. That brought Hani and me into the world."

"Your father and I have had sex more than once." Uba's voice was weak and almost whiney to her own ears. Why was she stooping so low as to argue this point with her deranged son? "We do it all the time."

"I can both hear and smell everything in our apartment, Mom. That's a lie." Abshir shook his head. "Dad's second good decision?" He held up two fingers and then smacked his dick for emphasis, making it bob again. He smiled at the mesmerized way her brown eyes tracked its movement. "He brought us to this building. This is where we're meant to be." He didn't tell her that he was going to put a goddess in her womb. Ogganse had been clear that she might slip away if he moved things along too quickly. He wouldn't let Her down. "On your knees, Mom. I can see how interested you are. Get a better look."

Uba was revolted. She curled her lip. But, to her surprise, she also dropped to her knees on the cold, concrete floor. Surprisingly, she found one of his socks in her right hand. Even more shockingly, she found her left hand lightly caressing his penis. She shivered. It was so warm. "So much blood." She squeezed it. The outer flesh was spongy, but she could feel steel underneath. "Is it warm because it holds so much blood?"

"Yep. I guess." Abshir laughed. Everything about the moment was absurd. His uptight mother, who had slammed his penis with her purse not that long ago, was kneeling before him and gently moving her fingertips over his cock. The moment was insane, but it was also flawless.

"This is as it should be. The buck comes of age and takes over the bevy," Ogganse's voice was trilling with excitement as she spoke into Abshir's ear. "Take it slowly. Let her get used to you. She doesn't yet know that the old stag's rule is over. It might take weeks for her to realize this. We must move her steadily along."

Abshir nodded. He stood silently, letting his mother fawn over his penis. The machines around them made their rhythmic whirring and thumping noises in time with the heart of the building.

On the twelfth floor, Hani's dress was around her waist, and her panties were on the floor. Joe had two fingers pumping inside her.

"What ... um ... what ... ooooohhhhhh ... are you doing?" Hani watched the concentration on his face as he stared at her pussy.

"There's supposed to be a spot in here. I'm looking for it." Joe bit his lower lip. "I haven't ... really done this before."

"You're in the wrong place ... Joey ... it's on the roof." Hani smiled at how hard he was working. "There was a boy ... at my last school ... who was a master ... with that spot. He once had me ... squirting all over the ... ladies' room."

Joe looked up at her face with his eyebrows raised. "At school?"

"I'm not ... ugh ... some chaste ... fainting flower ... Joey." She let out a quick burst of laughter that quickly turned into moans. "And that boy ... was very persuasive. Just like you ... aaahhhhh." She listened to the wonderful, wet sounds of his fingers for a few seconds. "I bet ... you could convince me ... to meet you in the school bathroom ... sometime."

"Yeah ... I could." Joe moved his fingers to where he thought she meant. The warm, ribbed flesh inside her thrilled him. His dick, still in his pants, was so hard that he thought it might break free on its own.

"It's ... a date then." Hani squirmed her hips, trying to help him find the spot. "You're getting closer ... up a little ... ooohhhh ... yeessssss ... you're close." She closed her eyes. "Maybe we should ... put a towel down or something ... because ... eeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiii." Her hips jerked forward, and her eyelids fluttered open.

"Joey?" Carrie stopped in the hall. Was that a scream coming from her son's room? She opened the door. "Is everything ...?" Her eyes went wide. She had not expected to be staring directly at an eighteen-year-old's vagina. Not on this day. Not on any day. She had found Hani exposed from the waist down, her legs trembling uncontrollably. Carrie's son had his fingers moving furiously inside Hani.

"Mom!" Joe had smelled his mother out in the hall, but he didn't think she'd barge in. He quickly withdrew his fingers.

"Nnnnnggggggggggg." Hani clenched her teeth, trying not to cum. But that just made it worse. Her hips bucked and to her horror, she started squirting on Joe's bed. There was no controlling it. She had tried to warn him. "Uuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhh ... ssssnnnoooorrrrkkkkkkkk." Hani wasn't easily embarrassed, but this was enough to make anyone feel shame. Her boyfriend's mother was staring at her as she squirted.

"Oh ... my gosh ... what's happening!?!" Carrie put a hand to her chest. "What did you do to her, Joey?" She wanted to shoot an accusing look at her son, but she couldn't take her eyes off the geyser erupting from the girl on her son's bed.

"Relax, Mom. She's cumming." Joe held up his hand toward his mother to pacify her. He belatedly realized that it was shiny and slick with Hani's juices.

"Oh ... gosh ... what?" Carrie stared at the teenager. Her skin was so dark, lending a luster to her shapely, trembling legs that Carrie wasn't used to. Everything about the girl was dark, except for her white, grimacing teeth and the bright pink of her gash.

"Mom ... give us some privacy." Joe couldn't believe how easy it was to take charge in what was, arguably, a disaster. "She's fine. We're just fooling around."

"Are you okay, Hani?" Carrie took a step back into the hall.

"Fffffffiiinnnnneeeee ... Mrrrsssssss ... Mmmmmaarrrrrlllllnnnddd." Hani's body shuddered a few more times, and she stopped squirting. She panted, averting her eyes from her boyfriend's mom.

Without another word, Carrie closed the door and ran down the hall.

"Well ..." Joe looked at Hani, a big smile on his face. "I guess we now know that my mom isn't a squirter." He laughed. "But you are."

"Jeez ... Joe. Don't talk about your mom like that." Hani shook her head. Her heart was thumping like crazy, both from getting caught and the climax.

A while later, Hani left the apartment with her hijab back on and her eyes cast down. She wasn't easily cowed, but getting caught gushing by her boyfriend's mother was enough to mortify even her. She caught a brief glance of Carrie sitting in the kitchen, looking very pale. Neither woman said goodbye to the other as Hani hustled out of the apartment, rushed down the hall, and entered her own apartment. She had expected to find her mother and brother home, but the place was empty.

Down in the basement, Uba was still gently caressing her son's penis with one hand. Every now and then a dollop of pre-seminal fluid would leak from the head, and she'd use her son's crusty sock to wipe it up.

"Mom, you should -" Abshir paused to listen to the goddess's voice.

"Don't tell her what she should do. Her mind is in turmoil," Ogganse said. "Don't give her something to rebel against. Your mother is a very recalcitrant doe. This surprises me. We picked her because we thought she'd be easy to steer. But don't worry. We're still on course. We need to build her up steadily without too many false steps."

"I understand." Abshir nodded.

"What was that, sweetheart?" Uba hadn't used his pet name in weeks. It felt natural now.

"I understand that you might have questions, Mom." Abshir was a quick learner. He knew what Ogganse was going for.

"Yes, that's good." Ogganse's voice grew excited. "Help her cross the bridge on her own. With the roots all around us, her mind is primed. She will find the right path."

"Mmmmm." Uba swiped off the clear fluid leaking from her son's penis again. Without thinking, she lifted the sock to her nose and inhaled, her eyes rolling back. It was raw, unadulterated masculinity. Her son was clearly a man now. And he needed her to rein him in. "Questions?" Uba adjusted her glasses and looked up into his handsome face. "Is this ... this ... beast ... the reason you've been so difficult lately?" She squeezed his penis at the word 'beast' so he would know what she was referring to.

"Um ... yes ... yes ... Mom ... it makes me ... wild." Abshir met her eyes.

"So ... now I understand. Coming into manhood isn't easy." She looked back at the ugly penis in front of her. She found her hand starting to pump it, but quickly stopped herself. Instead, she ran her fingertips up and down the bumpy shaft. "Your father ... he never talked to you about sex, did he?"

"No, Mom." He shook his head.

"He's so mad at you right now. I don't think I could get him to have the talk with you." Uba wiped off his fluid again and smelled the sock for almost a minute. The thump, hum, and whirl of the machines created a rhythm for her thoughts. "But you need help. I want my calm, smart, funny boy back. Not the unruly man who shows his mother his penis. Do you want to be your old self again, too?"

"She's building the bridge," Ogganse said.

"Yes, Mom. I want to be myself again. Stroke it for me. Give me some relief." Abshir lowered his voice.

"That is the unruly man talking. My sweet Abshir would never say something like that to me." Uba stood and stepped back. "How could you even think it?" She walked over to their laundry and put the sock in a pile.

"Get back here, Mom." Abshir took a couple steps toward her, his cock swaying side to side.

"Calm yourself, sweetheart." Uba reached for the detergent bottle. She might have to throttle him with it after all.

"The seed is planted," Ogganse said. "Give it time to grow."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I just have these ... urges." Abshir pulled up his underwear and pants, confining his dick under his waistband. The head of it was under his shirt, about where his belly button was. His clothes did not hide it well. He could see his mother studying the bulge.

"I wish you had talked to me about this rather than flopping that thing out in the open. We could have gotten you help." She worried her dark bottom lip with her white teeth. "Now ... your father is ... well ..." She let go of the detergent bottle. "I will do some research and give you the sex talk your father should have. We'll find a way for you to control your urges, so I can have my adorable son back. Sound good?"
"Um ..." His instincts were to push her now. His father was past his prime. Abshir should be able to take his place. But the voice had been clear. "Ogganse?" He whispered.

"Let her find her own bridge. Bring her back to the basement if necessary. She must cross on her own," Ogganse said. "No false steps."

"Sure, Mom. Sounds good." He put as much contrition into his voice as he could.

"Great, that's settled." She started loading one of the washers. She had to work hard not to take one more sniff of his dirty socks. "Now, do you think you can calm yourself enough to help your mother with the laundry?"

"Sure, Mom." Abshir nodded and helped her load a second washer.

"Thank you, sweetheart." Uba's smile was tight, but it was there. There was hope for him.

~~

November 24, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund.

Brian rings my doorbell every day and asks me to play music with him. Of course, I haven't opened up since the time I witnessed what he did with his mother.

The phone is still out. And I'm starting to empty my refrigerator. Rationing food is now a thing I must do. I've filled up the tub and every spare container with water in case they shut off all my utilities. I am quite sure that the building turned my phone off as part of some cultish plan. I wonder if someone goes through the outgoing mail. It may be that none of my recent reports made it to Nathaniel. I am, of course, too high in the building to jump from my window. And there is almost no chance they'll let me walk out. I have twin hopes now. One, that I can last long enough for someone from the company to come check on me. Or two, my .38.

A woman knocked on my door this morning. She claimed to live on the fourteenth floor. She said Mrs. Creech chose me for this building because I was special. That I was supposed to be part of Brian's bevy, whatever that means. I almost put a bullet through the door. I'm willing to bet that she's the cult leader. I shudder to think what she'll do to Brian, his mother, me, and every other innocent in this building. I didn't answer her. I didn't shoot her. I need to last long enough to escape. Once I'm out of here, I'll be able to take this whole building down brick by brick.

~~

November 25, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"You should take your clothes off, Mom." Brian smiled at his mother as she entered the room in a sweater and jeans. His father had just left for work, so Brian was standing naked, ready for her. He had a nice, leisurely stroke going with one hand on his dick. "You don't want to keep staining things."

Darby eyed his mammoth penis. "I worry that if my clothes are off, you'll want to have sex. We can't have sex, Brian." There were some boundaries even music couldn't get her to cross.

"Don't worry, it's not time for that." Brian knew he had to wait. The voice wanted his power to grow. He was supposed to mount his mother for the first time in front of his father. That was the way of things. He picked up his trumpet. "Strip for me, Mom. Let the wild in."

"Yes, honey." Darby nodded and watched as he started to play the trumpet. Her body knew what to do on its own. Her hips swayed in time to the rock song, and her feet started dancing. She spun playfully about the room, slowly inching her sweater up over her head. He's right. It'll be easier to clean myself if I'm naked. With a dramatic thrust of her hip, she tossed away the sweater, and turned her butt toward him. She rolled her head in quick circles, arcing her black hair round and round. Soon, her butt started making the same motion. She wished she could ask Brian if he liked what she was doing, but the music was too loud. Briefly, she felt bad for the neighbors, but those thoughts passed. Instead, she let the wild in.

Brian wanted to hoot and holler at his mom. She was putting on an awesome show. Her hips shimmied as she lowered her jeans, slowly revealing the globes of her panty-covered, pale ass. He couldn't shout, so he played his music louder. His dick bobbed and bounced as he moved to the music.

It was exhilarating and surreal to dance for her son. She barely let her husband see her naked, and here she was jiggling for Brian in just her bra, panties, and socks. And soon it was only her panties and socks. And then, just socks. She rotated her shoulders to make her breasts move in matching circles for him, whipping her hair at the same time.

The song ended, and Brian put down his trumpet. He watched his mother's body come to an abrupt halt without any external rhythm to keep it going. They were both covered in a sheen of sweat, smiling at each other.

"Do you still ... want Rosalin ... to make music with us?" Darby dropped to all fours, making sure he could see her boobs dangling under her as she crawled toward him. She was panting from her exertion. Her cheeks were rosy. She arrived at his penis and sat up. She quickly licked off the precum that was dribbling down his head and looked up at him with her doe eyes. "I mean ... you and me ... we have something special here. If she wants to stay in her apartment ... isn't that for the best?" She took hold of his penis and pumped it with both hands. Seeing her wedding ring glitter gave her a moment of confusion, but then she reentered the wilderness she shared with her son. Nothing mattered there but the two of them.

"I like her, Mom." Brian watched her open wide and suck his cock into her pretty mouth. Her lips looked thin as they stretched and distorted around the bloated head. "Also ... I need a bevy. That was one of the things that went wrong last time. I need more than one doe. We need more than one fawn."

"Mmmmpppphhhh?" Darby raised her eyebrows in question. He sometimes talked like that, and she couldn't make sense of it. "Ggaaaccck ... ggaaaacckkk ... ggaaaaccckkk." She pushed him into the back of her throat. It doesn't have to make sense. That's the beauty of being with him. All that matters is that I please him. And that we make sweet music together.

Brian smiled down at her. "You'll understand eventually." He picked his trumpet back up and played the perfect song for the blowjob. It had a fast rhythm, and a catchy melody. His mother bobbed her head in time with the music.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 10
Detective Glaeser makes a startling discovery.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

March 28, 2015: Apartment 12C, the Marland family.

"Hey, Mom. You look like you've seen a ghost." Joe walked into the kitchen and smiled at his mother.

"Hello, Joey." Carrie sipped her coffee and stared at a picture on her fridge. It was of her, Joe, and his two older brothers from about ten years ago. In the picture, her youngest was so small and shy, clinging to her hip. They were at the beach, her older sons were shirtless, flexing and laughing, wind tossing their hair. Joe was fully clothed, ignoring his brothers. She glanced over at her youngest son in the present. She could see his muscles bunching in his arms as he leaned on the counter. His body looked strong and athletic under his t-shirt. "You really did bloom when we moved here. It's ... like a magical transformation. I ... feel ... like I don't know you anymore." Not long ago, she had been so happy to see him become an athlete like the rest of the family. But now, she wasn't so sure.

"Oh, come on. It's not like you didn't ever walk in on Justin or Mark with a girl." Joe poured himself a glass of water and drank while keeping an eye on her. She really did look pale, her face expressionless. It had only been about twenty minutes since his mother had seen Hani squirting. He supposed she was in shock.

"I expected that of them, Joey. Not you. And ... they never did what you did to that poor girl." Carrie eyed her son warily. "It was ... unnatural."

"It's perfectly natural, Mom." Joe laughed. "I mean, it's the definition of natural. Her body's designed to squirt when it feels good. I mean, any woman can do that ... I think." He shrugged.

Some color came into Carrie's cheeks, brought by embarrassment. "That's not true." I have a very healthy sex life with Gabe, and my body has never done anything like that. In fact, she had a bottle of massage oil in the bathroom to help with lubrication, because most of the time, she didn't really get wet. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "This is not a conversation I want to be having with you."

"Okay." He grabbed a banana and started peeling it. A few weeks before, he would have already eaten the bunch of bananas on their counter. He was relieved that his hunger had finally died down. He took a bite, maintaining eye contact with her. "What do you want to talk about?"

"You're too young for her. I don't want you to see her anymore." Carrie frowned and looked away from him.

"Hani's the same age as me." Joe finished the banana, tossed the peel in the compost bin, and sat at the kitchen table.

"You're too young for a girlfriend," Carrie whispered.

"What happened? You were so excited when Hani and I first started dating." Joe thought through things while his mother stayed silent. "Also, Mom, that's totally not fair. Justin and Mark had girlfriends when they were younger than me."

"You're different. You're not like them." Carrie seemed to be coming around to the idea that she liked when he'd been the black sheep. Was he always a wolf in sheep's clothing? Was he never the shy, bookish kid I thought he was?

"Whatever." He was starting to lose patience with her. "I'm sorry you walked in on us and saw something that made you uncomfortable. But I'm going to keep seeing Hani. I like her." He stood. "You can't stop me." He loomed over her, his body posture more aggressive. He watched her shrink in her chair. She didn't say anything, instead she stared at the refrigerator. He frowned. "Look at me, Mom." He stepped up to her, put his finger under her chin, and turned her face until they were staring into each other's eyes. "Say it."

"Say what?" She trembled. He was so forceful. He was so magnetic. Her tummy turned cartwheels.

"Tell me that you can't stop me from dating Hani," Joe growled.

"I ... um ... can't stop you from dating Hani." Carrie was dimly aware that while her son's voice had lowered to a rumble, hers sounded like she'd been huffing helium.

"Great. I'm glad we agree." He let go of her chin, kissed her cheek, and walked to the door. He stopped there and looked back. "If you don't want to see us together, knock next time."

Carrie looked back at the beach picture on the fridge. She was so confused. "Are you using protection?" Her voice was still thin and reedy.

"We haven't had sex yet. But I'm sure we will." Joe wondered at his confidence. How had he dominated his mother through this confrontation? It was so strange. He thought he might as well push her a little further. "Next time you're at the store, buy me some condoms. I should probably have some in the apartment for when it happens. I'll need a large size."

Carrie gulped, but didn't look at him. "Okay," she squeaked.

"Thanks." Joe smiled and left.

Carrie sat in the kitchen for a while, staring at the young boy her son had once been. She was totally confused and flustered.

~~

September 3, 1994: Investigation into the disappearance of Rosalin Ekland.

The disguise wasn't perfect, but it wasn't hard to fool a doorman. Nathaniel changed his stride as he entered 3838 Walnut Street, wearing a hat, fake beard, and glasses. He smiled and nodded as an older man held the door for him.

There hadn't been time to check the basement before Mrs. Creech kicked him out of the building. That was his goal for the day. Rosalin had mentioned something in her reports about there not being a mechanical room. That seemed beyond suspicious.

Nathaniel paused to study the carvings on the lobby wall. Nearby, there was a depiction of a deer and a wolf lying side by side. They looked dead to Nathaniel's eyes, but he was no art critic. A shapely woman stood over them, clearly weeping. "This building is fucking weird." He was glad to have his Beretta tucked in his shoulder holster under his jacket. He glanced around and made for the stairs to the basement.

Ten minutes later, Nathaniel was stumped. Rosalin had been correct. There was only a laundry room in the basement. He'd looked all around for another door and found nothing. The building was hiding things. He couldn't imagine why it would conceal the mechanical room. Also, what else might be down here?

The washing machines and dryers thumped and whirred around him, combining to form a steady rhythm. It almost sounded like a heartbeat. He looked around the room. When he finally found the hidden door, what would be on the other side? Would he find the mummified remains of the Ostrows? Would he find poor Rosalin's body? He clenched his jaw and set to work, combing over every inch of the basement. He would uncover the secrets buried under 3838 Walnut Street.

~~

November 28, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

There was a soft knock on Brian's door. He was at his computer, waiting for a picture of a naked woman to load. He swiveled his chair toward the door. "Come in."

Darby entered her son's room. "Your father is off to work and ..." She blushed when she saw that her son had his big penis out, and he was stroking it. She glanced at the computer, where she could see the upper half of a naked, Asian woman. "Why did you invite me in? It could have been your father. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?" She closed the door behind her and stood with her hands clasped. Her skinny son was naked, but she wore a modest turtleneck and a long skirt.

"I don't care about Dad." Brian turned back to his computer monitor.

"That's nonsense. Of course you care. He's your father." She frowned at the monitor. "That woman sort of looks like my friend Sylvie."

"Yeah, she does." Brian nodded. "Mrs. Kim is hot."

Darby's frown deepened. "You can't say things like that about my friends. What I'm doing for you is special. You should be happy with me."

"I am happy with you. But I told you I need a bevy, Mom. Ogganse says so." The picture was fully loaded now. The woman on the screen wasn't Sylvie Kim, but she had a pleasing pretty face, modest bust, and slim hips like his mother's friend.

"I told you that I'll be your girlfriend for now. You don't need other women. Not Ms. Eklund in 9B ... and certainly not Sylvie! She's married, Brian." Darby took a couple of steps closer to him. She glanced out the window. It seemed one of the gargoyles was leering at her. Had that stone creature always been looking in like that? She shook her head. "Let's make some music, pumpkin. Why don't you forget about Sylvie and get your trumpet out." She swayed her hips in time to a silent rhythm, trying to entice his thoughts back to her.

"I want to look at pictures, Mom. We can play some music later." Brian masturbated and stared at the woman on screen.

"Oh ... I ... um ..." Darby's hips stopped. She hung her head. He's grown tired of me so quickly. It's probably for the best. I know we shouldn't be doing what we're doing. She turned to go.

"Wait." Brian's voice was sharp. "I do want you here, Mom. You're going to be part of the bevy. You're the lead doe."

"I'm not sure what you mean." She turned back toward her son and took a couple steps toward him. "What do you want me to do?"

"Climb under my desk and blow me while I surf the web." He grabbed a lever on the side of his chair and lowered his seat to give her room to work.

"Oh ... that's sort of demeaning ... Brian. Our music is one thing, but ..." She looked at the cramped space under his desk. "I don't even put my mouth on your father's thing." She glanced at Brian's face. She didn't like the disappointment she saw there. "Okay, I'll do it, but I'm keeping my clothes on. So, try not to make a mess."

"I think that's up to you." Brian watched his mother awkwardly crawl under the desk. "You'll have to swallow it all." He was pretty sure she could handle it. Lord knows, he'd given her enough practice.

Soon, Darby was on her knees, blowing her son with gusto while he loaded more pictures on his monitor. The good news was that it didn't feel so demeaning once she let the wild in.

A while later, Brian thought of something. "Mom?"

"Mmmmmppphhh?" She couldn't look up and make eye contact with him with the lip of the desk in the way.

"Even though ... I'll have a bunch of does ... you're special. No one can ... uuugghhhh ... replace you ... Mom. Especially ... since you learned how to do that ... with your tongue. Uuugghhhh ... yes ... that." He didn't tell her that she would have the honor of breeding with him, and that she would carry a goddess. It wasn't yet time, and she was still very strict about no sex.

Her son's words made her tummy warm and tingly. She heard him grunt and his hips bucked, and suddenly her mouth was flooded with his salty stuff. "Gggaaacck ... gggmmmppp ... mmmmmmm." She gulped as fast as she could. Soon, her tummy filled up, making her extra warm and tingly. When she finished, she crawled out from under the desk and stood. "Will you still be up for music with me later?" She wiped some sperm from her chin with her fingers, so it wouldn't drip onto her sweater.

"Sure, Mom." Brian looked up at her with a lazy smile. "I'm going to play some games and maybe knock on Rosalin's door again. Come back to my room in a couple hours. I'll be ready."

"Okay, Brian." Darby couldn't help grinning like an idiot. She left the room with a bounce in her step and a belly full of sperm.

~~

April 2, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

The pleasantries were over. Carrie knew she had to get down to business. She poured Uba another cup of tea and forced a smile on her face. The living room in 12C was quiet as Uba sipped her tea and returned the smile. Carrie cleared her throat. How would she approach the obvious truth that Hani was corrupting her son? "So, Uba, Joe has been a bit wild lately." He made me buy him condoms to use on your daughter! She managed not to say that part out loud. "Have you been having any issues with your children?"

Uba put her teacup down, fidgeting with her glasses and then her hijab. "So, I guess word gets around." She pressed her dark lips into a thin line.

"Nothing has gotten around, Uba. I just wanted to talk, mother to mother." Carrie kept a stiff smile on her face. If only the other mothers at her church could see her now, grilling her neighbor about her slut of a daughter. They would do the same thing if a woman like that was having an influence on their sons.

"Forgive me. Abshir has just been such a handful lately." Uba frowned. A literal handful. I should not have let him pressure me into holding his testicles before school this morning. That had nothing to do with his sex education, even if I pretended I was checking on his health. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Was it wrong that she had touched Carrie's nice tea things with fingers that had been holding wrinkly balls just hours ago? I did wash my hands a dozen times afterward.

"Ahem." Carrie cleared her throat. The silence in the room was deafening. "Abshir has been a handful. I thought that -"

"Yes, he has. Since becoming a man, he's grown ... unruly." Uba nodded slowly, not registering the surprise on her friend's face. "Taban has tried to rein him in with force. But that hasn't worked. So, I've had to step in and try to get him to use his brain again."

"Oh, I see. And Hani ...?" Carrie tried to get things back on track.

"Did Gabe give your boys a sex education, or did you have to do it?" Uba picked up her teacup again. It was hard to believe that the same fingers feeling the delicate, smooth ceramic had felt Abshir's heavy, hairy sacks. She shivered.

"We ... um ... we know they took a class about it at school?" Carrie was confused. Were they talking about what Hani and Joe had been up to? What did that have to do with Hani's twin? "Are you saying I should talk to Joey about sex?" She sipped her tea.

"Joey's a good boy. I'm sure it's fine." Uba sighed and tried to forget about her troublesome son. "Hani and Joey are cute together, don't you think? I'm glad they've been spending more time in your apartment, rather than running all over the city. It's nice of you to keep an eye on my Hani."

Carrie spit out her tea and coughed.

"Oh, my. Are you okay?" Uba stood.

"I'm ... I'm ... fine." Carrie said between coughs. She looked over at Uba's innocent face. The woman wasn't playing with her. She simply didn't know. And Carrie couldn't bring herself to tell her that she had seen Hani spray from her vagina all over Joe's bed.

~~

September 3, 1994: Investigation into the disappearance of Rosalin Ekland.

Nathaniel had spent forty-five minutes carefully examining every machine in the laundry room, looking for any hidden buttons or levers. He had struck out so far. "I'll find you, Rosalin," he whispered to himself.

The lights went out. "Shit." The machines around him all fell silent. Nathanial fumbled in his pocket for his lighter. When he heard the door to the stairs squeak open, followed by footsteps, he froze. He crouched low and made as little sound as possible. He heard the clip of high heels. It sounded like one woman had joined him in the laundry room. He heard her walk into the room and stop. After that, he didn't hear anyone or anything else. He doubted that anyone who meant well would walk into a blacked-out room without calling out, so he stayed quiet. He eased his Beretta out of his shoulder holster and thumbed off the safety.

The seconds stretched out into minutes. Nathaniel waited.

"Mr. Glaeser. Are you in here?" Rosalin said.

Nathaniel lowered his gun. "Rosalin?" The lights came back on. He was blinded for a moment, trying to adjust his eyes. He blinked, and there indeed was Rosalin. His eyes widened. She was pregnant, almost to term it looked like. She was dressed in an old-fashioned nightgown, and she had her hair up. He was so shocked by her appearance, that he didn't immediately notice the second woman in the room. She was standing right next to Nathaniel. How did she creep up on me?

With a swift motion, Elizabeth snatched the gun from Nathaniel's hand and pushed him to the ground.

"Ooffff." Nathaniel hit the concrete floor hard. His disguise hat and glasses tumbled away from him. He could now see why he hadn't heard her, she was barefoot. He looked up her shapely legs as she pressed her hand in the middle of his back. She wore a dress from the early part of the century. The modest garment couldn't hide her zaftig form. He struggled against her. Where did all that strength come from? He couldn't wriggle away. "What ... what's going on?"

"Does Dave know you're here?" Rosalin dropped to her knee to get closer to eye level with her erstwhile boss. "How is he?"

"What ... is this, Rosalin?" Nathaniel lifted his head, but the woman holding him down shoved it back to the concrete. He winced. In one quick motion, the woman pulled off his fake beard and tossed it away.

"I'm sorry she's so rough, Mr. Glaeser." Rosalin chewed her bottom lip. "How is Dave?"

"He thinks you're dead. We all thought you were dead." Nathaniel tried to roll toward the woman holding him, but her hand felt like an anvil on his back. She pushed harder, forcing the air out of his lungs in a hiss. "I was ... looking for you ... but now that I found you ... everything's fine," he gasped.

"I'm so sorry about all this," Rosalin said. "Once you give the building a chance, you'll see that we were wrong. You'll like it here."

Elizabeth stepped away from the large man, letting him sit up. She stood wearily, ready to catch him if he ran. "This is my building, Mr. Glaeser. You have become a nuisance to me. That will have costs for you."

Nathaniel sat perfectly still. It wasn't yet the moment to go for the gun in his ankle holster. He regarded the woman. "Who are you?"

"I am the wolf. I am the stag. I am the mother. I am the sacrifice. I am the resurrection." Elizabeth's voice was clear and calm, cutting through the sound of the machines all around them.

"Okay." Nathaniel returned his attention to Rosalin. If he could convince her to help him, they would have a chance against the 'resurrection' woman. "Dave is devastated about your disappearance. He'll be over the moon to have you back."

Rosalin put her hands on her burgeoning belly. "I'm not sure he'll want me anymore. It goes without saying that this isn't Dave's." She rubbed her belly lovingly.

"Um ... whose is it?" It was becoming plain to Nathaniel that Rosalin had been brainwashed. He'd dealt with cults before. The strange thing was, Rosalin didn't fit the profile for a cultist at all. She was too strong-willed. She was too ambitious.

"The baby belongs to the building." Rosalin stood, still holding her belly. "Ogganse? What do we do? Can Nathaniel work in the building?" She cocked her head and listened. "Why doesn't She answer? She's always here to talk in the basement. When the lights were off, did you see the roots, Mr. Glaeser?"

"Um ..."

Elizabeth frowned. She had been studying the man closely. She didn't like what she saw. "He won't ever serve Her."

"I got kicked off the cops because I had trouble serving. But if the pay is good enough, I'll look the other way." Nathaniel inched his hand along the cool, concrete floor, moving closer and closer to his secondary pistol.

"I think we should make an offering of him in chapel." Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "This one will make a poor doorman."

"No, Mrs. Norwood. He's my friend ... my boss ... we can come up with something else." Rosalin's eyes grew round with worry.
"We can all be civil about this. Let me walk out of here with Rosalin, and we'll leave your building alone." He stared down the strange, curvaceous woman with raven hair. She looked like a person ripped from a different era. "If you slip me some cash, maybe I can help you keep things quiet." He was sitting awkwardly now, his hand almost to his ankle.

Rosalin groaned. "Don't say that, Mr. Glaeser. I know you'd never take a bribe."

"Sure I would." He turned his gaze back to Rosalin. "We're going to walk out of here and keep our mouths shut. Dave will take you back, I promise. He loves you. And you can work at the firm again." His words were slow and even. "Everything's going to be ..." Quick as lightning, he pulled up his pant leg, removed the small pistol from his ankle holster, and fired two shots at the creepy cult leader, hitting her center mass. The sound in the enclosed space was deafening. Ears ringing, he crawled backward until his head hit a washer. He scrambled to his feet, pointing the gun at the woman, waiting for her to drop.

Rosalin stared at Nathaniel in horror, the blood draining from her face. "No ... no ... no ..."

At first Nathaniel thought the woman was wearing a bulletproof vest. But he would have seen the outline of it under her dress. And ... blood was slowly saturating the fabric around the two neat holes he'd put above her left breast. "You're in shock, lady. Sit down, and I'll call an ambulance."

Elizabeth tossed Nathaniel's Beretta behind her, where it clattered. She held up her hands in surrender.

"Great, thank you for that." He kept his secondary pistol trained on her. "Now, please sit down and -" She took a step toward him, and he put a bullet in the center of her forehead.

Elizabeth's head snapped back, and she stumbled until she hit the folding table and steadied herself. She could see blood cascading from her head down to the table. "You've ruined my dress. Natalie had this made for me in 1940. It's beyond repair."

"Fuck, lady. How are you still talking?" He didn't really pay much attention to her words. And when she leapt onto the wall, his mind went on automatic, shutting everything else out. He put a second hand on his weapon and fired again, and again. Tracking the creature as she climbed from the wall to the ceiling, and then moved horribly in his direction. By the time she was above him, he was out of ammunition. He opened the cylinder to reload, but she dropped on top of him before he could do anything more.

When she heard the sickening snap and horrible ripping, Rosalin let out a wrenching scream.

A moment later, Elizabeth stood, holding Nathaniel's head in one hand. It was no longer attached to his body. Elizabeth turned toward Rosalin, her body slick with blood. "It would have been better had we done this in front of the Hungarian Lady." She tossed the head away with a wet thump. "Stop screaming."

Rosalin went silent.

"Run upstairs and tell the janitors to come clean up the mess." Elizabeth looked down at the grisly front of her dress. She reached into one of the bullet holes. There was a horrible squelching as she dug for the bullet, pulled it out, and tossed it to the floor. It pinged as it bounced, coming to rest next to the corpse. "Then tell Mrs. Creech to get me a new dress." She pulled another bullet from her chest and tossed it away, walking over to the sink. "I suppose I'll have to clean in here. Have the doormen block off the basement until everything's spotless."

Rosalin stared at her, holding her belly protectively.

"Run along now, Rosalin. This will make Ogganse happy." Elizabeth gave the woman a flat expression.

Rosalin nodded, turned, and raced out of the basement as fast as her gravid body would allow.

~~

April 3, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

"I am not going to touch you again. That was just to make sure you're healthy down there." Uba had now touched her eighteen-year-old son on his privates four times. She had managed to keep it clinical, but she didn't trust her impulses. Even though his member looked horribly aggressive, gargantuan, and beastly, she found it compelling. The last time, she'd caught herself fantasizing about seizing it in both hands and pumping him madly. He was running wild. Would that be the surest way to control him? No, it was unthinkable. "Don't give me that look. I'm not going to ..." She watched him lower his pants and underwear. He was soft but still huge and veiny. She eyed his dangling thing with distrust. A part of her scanned the room for something to throttle his penis with. But no, he had promised to behave. She glanced back at him. "Remember what we talked about. It's healthy for you to let it rest. Have you been touching it yourself? Be honest. It looks like you have. It looks ... enflamed."

"I haven't." He adjusted his glasses and took in his mother's beauty. His dick lurched. She had finally started taking her hijab off around him again, and he loved to gaze on the black curls that framed her soft face.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." She left him in the living room and walked into his room. She found his hamper and rooted through it, coming up with what she'd suspected. Another crusty sock. She turned to walk back to the living room and confront him with the evidence, but her feet wouldn't move. Without meaning to, she found herself raising the sock up to her nose.

Abshir waited in the living room for his mother, his pants around his ankles. He looked out at the view. The gargoyle just outside their window seemed to be contemplating the same vista. Eventually, Abshir grew tired of waiting. His dick was about half-mast now, and it bounced around ponderously as he hopped out of his pants and underwear. He left them on the living room floor and went to find his mother.

"Mmmmmmmm ... mmmmmmmmm." Uba stood with her eyes closed, huffing the overripe, manly scent of her son's spoiled sock. She was so lost in the experience, that she didn't notice her son standing in the doorway.

There was some risk to masturbating where she'd see him when she opened her eyes. She had just told him to stop touching himself, and here he was being brazen. He couldn't stop touching himself, but he could leave. It looks like she loves my sock.

A thought occurred to Abshir. He backed away and moved down the hall to the bathroom, wanking his dick the whole way. A plan formed in his mind. If she liked his socks so much, he'd leave them out for her day after day. And then, when she was thoroughly hooked, he'd tell her he'd finally stopped fapping. No more dirty socks. Then he'd see how she reacted.

Abshir entered the bathroom and closed the door. He liked the new plan. It was slow and steady, just as Ogganse wanted. Maybe he'd go down to the basement later and check in with her. But now, he needed to cum. He closed his eyes and imagined what his mother would look like when he finally got her naked.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 11
Brian builds a bevy.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

December 2, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"I'm not really interested in your building's laundry room." Sylvie Kim glanced around with a frown. She shivered. It looked like a normal room found in any New York basement. Indeed, it was nicer than most. It was clean and had newer machines. But something about the space gave her the creeps. "I came here to see your amazing apartment, Darby."

"Let me turn off the lights. I think you'll enjoy it more." Darby held her friend's hand, gently caressing Sylvie's wedding ring.

"I do not want you to turn off the..." Sylvie went stiff as she fell into darkness. "Darby?" She squeezed her friend's hand. "You know you've gone insane, right?"

Darby laughed. She couldn't help it. She was growing to love every inch of their new building, but she always felt wilder in the basement. Her laughter bounced around the humming, thumping machines. "Do you see it? Do you see the roots? Do you hear Her?"

"What is that?" Sylvie's voice was hushed. Her friend's touch was suddenly electric. She squeezed Darby's hand even tighter. "I see something... red on the walls. It's pulsing."

"That's the heartbeat of the building. Come on, let's touch it." Darby pulled her friend to the concrete wall.

Sylvie's mind had been screaming for her to leave the basement not less than a minute ago. Now, she felt a sense of wonder and possibility.

"You will be indispensable to rebirthing a goddess." Ogganse's voice was comforting and compelling, like a warm river with a strong current.

"Who said that?" Sylvie looked around in the dark, but could only see the pulsing crimson walls. "Someone else is in here with us."

"Oh, you heard Her, too?" Darby was elated. "She's not actually in the room with us. I think we need to set Her free. But first, we need to set ourselves free." Darby had been worrying about her son's plan all morning. Her friend was older, married, and Brian already had a girlfriend. Me! But now that she was in the laundry room, she found that her mind had calmed.

"We need to... set ourselves free." Sylvie nodded to herself in the dark. It sounded right. She reached out her free hand and touched the wall. The glowing concrete felt fuzzy. Tension melted out of her muscles. "What is this stuff?"

"I don't know!" Darby laughed again, pulled her friend back to the light switch, and flipped it on. They blinked at each other, both smiling. "Do you see why we started down here?"

Sylvie shook her head in wonder. "That was... strange. Who was that woman that said the thing about the goddess?" She looked around the room, still not releasing her friend's hand. "She sounded... really interesting."

"I think She's the goddess." Darby studied her friend. Sylvie looked almost stoned. Darby felt it, too. The roots were like a drug. She hadn't smoked weed since college, but she remembered the feeling. She supposed her son's semen was also something of a drug. "I don't know much about Her. She sometimes talks to me when I come down here." She pulled Sylvie to the stairs. "Come on up. Brian and I are excited to show you the apartment."

"Brian's home?" Sylvie's lip curled. She had been hoping to avoid her friend's deadbeat son. But even that thought couldn't sour her new disposition.

They ascended the stairs and entered the lobby. Sylvie looked in wonder at the intricate carvings on the walls. The art had seemed creepy on her way in. Now, she wanted to stop and study the nearest depiction of a wolf-headed man. But Darby pulled her to the elevator.

"Hello, Mrs. Kwon." Natalie gave them a warm smile and walked over. "Are you and Brian entertaining a guest today?"

"Hello, Mrs. Creech. Yes, this is my friend, Mrs. Kim." Darby introduced Sylvie to the building manager. They made small talk for a minute.

"Well, I won't keep you. You are making Her happy to be sure. Keep up the good work." Natalie kissed each of Darby's cheeks. Then she did the same to Sylvie and walked away.

"Well, she's friendly." Mesmerized, Sylvie watched the woman's butt sway.

"You're staring at her behind, Sylvie," Darby whispered.

"Oh... it's just... she has such a pretty, vintage dress on." Even though she'd been caught, Sylvie couldn't look away until Natalie disappeared down a hallway. She realized that she was still holding Darby's hand. Her friend pulled her into the elevator. They stood quietly, watching the dial slowly mark their climb. As they passed the ninth floor, she thought she heard something that sounded like a growling animal. She glanced at Darby, but it didn't seem like she'd heard anything. The noise quickly passed, and Sylvie didn't worry about it. It was an older building. There were bound to be odd sounds here and there.

In the apartment, Darby finally released Sylvie's hand. "Have a look around. I'll make us some margaritas."

"Wow, Darby. I can't believe your view." Sylvie moved to the tall windows in the living room. "This is gorgeous."

The two women laughed, watched people in the park, and drank their way through a pitcher of margaritas.

Trumpet music interrupted a story Sylvie was telling Darby about her husband. Sylvie widened her eyes questioningly.

"Oh, that's Brian. It's time for him to join us." Darby had to raise her voice even though the music came from his room with the door closed. "I think he's playing Nirvana for us today. Do you like that band?" Darby threw her hands in the air and waved them to the beat, tossing her black hair side to side.

Sylvie surprised herself when she said, "I guess I do like them. Who knew?" She threw her hands up and bobbed to the beat with her friend.

"Come on, let's dance." Darby stood and pulled her friend to her feet. She put her hands on Sylvie's slender hips, looked into her brown eyes, and danced her around the living room, laughing.

"Oh... my... gosh... what are we doing?" Sylvie's high, ringing laugh joined her friend's. She found herself putting her hands on Darby's shoulders and shaking her hips in rhythm with the trumpet.

~~

December 2, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund.

Someone, or something, was growling and barking at my door today. Needless to say, I'm not pleased. I'm hungry, tired, and at my wit's end, but I'm not pleased.

The phone hasn't come back online. I haven't left the apartment. And I'm down to only canned food. I wonder if it was the same for the Ostrows. I hope it wasn't. I hope the end came quickly for them.

I tried yelling and waving from the windows again, but no one heard or saw. New York is loud, but still... you'd think someone would look up. Of course, I did have an audience. Those ghastly gargoyles stared me down while I hung out the window. I know they're made of stone, but I kept expecting them to leap at me. They look so angry. And I swear they move when my curtains are drawn.

I was sitting in my kitchen after lunch, my stomach growling, when I heard barking outside my door. It wasn't someone walking their dog. It wasn't Brian messing with me. It was too loud... too... vicious. Of course, I did peek out the spyhole. But I didn't see anything. The thing, whatever it was, was certainly louder than my stomach. The growling shook my door.

For all I know, wild animals are roaming the halls. Because, you know, that might as well happen, too.

Only a few more days of food. Then, I'll have to decide what to do. I don't understand how Dave hasn't tried to check up on me. We're going to be married, and he doesn't wonder where his fiancée is? And what about the people at work?

I'm going to brush my teeth now. I go to bed early and wake up late. Each night, I hope I'll wake up to Nathanial pounding on my door. If he came for me, I know he'd get me out of here. But so far, all my mornings arrive with disappointment.

~~

April 7, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

Uba had the day off. The twins were at school, and her husband was at work. She was alone in the apartment, but she was still moving lightly on her toes. Why must I sneak into my son's room?

There were clothes on the floor. His bed was unmade. A crushed soda can lay on his desk. Uba inhaled deeply. She wore one of her modest dresses, but no hijab. She ran her fingers through her black curls and dug her nails into her scalp, scratching herself wonderfully. Her body wiggled and shook. The smell of overripe teenager was quickly becoming an addiction. It made her feel so delicious. "It's not hurting anybody," she whispered to the empty room.

While her son was home, she had continued to urge him to let his penis rest. But when he was away, she was secretly grateful that he continued to disobey her.

Other than her abstinence counseling, she had ended her sex lessons with him. It was worrying how often he had talked her into viewing or touching his horrible penis. With no lessons, those problems were behind them.

She opened her eyes and spotted a crusty sock on the floor. "There you are, you little devil." She snatched it up and held it to her nose, huffing the smell of spent sperm. Her eyes rolled back. She stood in the middle of his room, legs apart, sock to her nose. It was heaven.

"He touches himself so often. He must really enjoy it. I wonder..." Still holding the sock, she moved toward his unmade bed. She pulled off her dress and sat on the mattress. In only her bra, panties, and socks, she lay face down on his sheet and breathed in. "Teenagers... teenagers... they smell so gooooooood." She stretched out, luxuriating in being so naughty. "Ooohhhhh... Abshir... you've grown into such a man... at eighteen. What if you found me... in your bed?"

Uba rolled onto her back, sock back to her nose. Before she knew what was happening, her hand was inside her panties, exploring her vagina as her husband liked to do. She went rigid when she realized what she was doing, but her hand didn't stop. It felt too good, and the smell of his seed mellowed her out. Her body relaxed, and she slipped a finger inside. I'm wet! I'm wetter than I've ever been with Taban. That was a startling discovery.

"Uummpph... uuummmppphh... uummpphhh." She huffed the sock and played with herself on her son's bed. Her hips writhed in a way she was quite unused to. They had a mind of their own. She didn't try to stop them. Soon, another of her fingers entered her vagina. They made faint squelching sounds in the quiet room.

"Ohhhhh... my... oooohhhhhh... my..." Uba's nerves lit up. She arched her back and cried out, pleasure further clouding her mind.

When the room swam back into focus, she found that she'd stuffed the sock into her mouth. She turned her head and spit it out, disgusted with the dirty thing and with herself. She removed her hand from her panties and shivered when she saw her fingers covered in her own goo. "What's happening to me?" She got off the bed, retrieved her dress, and headed to the bathroom to wash her hands.

"I'll do better." She said out in the hall. "I won't go in his room again."

As she washed her hands in the sink, she looked into the mirror. Her reflection looked so silly only wearing a bra and panties in the middle of the day. She was a middle-aged woman. A mother. What was she doing acting like a teenager? She shook her head. "I will do better. That was the last time." She put steel into her voice. She sounded so certain that it made her believe she really was done with his socks.

~~

December 2, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"This is wild! I feel so young!" Sylvie danced with Darby in the living room of her friend's fantastic apartment. Brian played his trumpet on the other side of the room. For some reason that Sylvie couldn't understand, he was only wearing his underwear. And he'd clearly stuffed something in there as a joke. Prank or no, Sylvie's eyes often glanced at that absurd package as it bounced in his briefs. She also caught herself running her eyes up and down his lithe body. He was skinny, but had many small, defined muscles. He looked sleek and fast. He was so different than the pudgy man she was used to seeing naked. She doubted her husband had ever looked like Brian.

The song ended, and Brian put down the trumpet. He was glistening with sweat. "Mom, put on the tape I gave you."

The women stopped dancing. They were covered in perspiration, too. Both were breathing hard.

"The Christmas music?" Darby smiled and went over to the stereo. She put in the tape and Christmas in Hollis blasted from the speakers. She turned the volume down. "I thought this was Christmas music."

"This is Christmas music." Brian cocked his hand in a finger-gun and pretended to shoot his mother. "Turn it up, and sit on the sofa, Mom."

"Um... okay." Darby did as she was told.

Sylvie stood with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open. A mostly naked teenager was dancing suggestively, moving toward her. "Is this... rap music?"

Brian glanced at his mother and winked.

Darby smiled, understanding him. He looks so happy. Why did I ever want to deny him this? She looked at her shocked friend. Sylvie will be happy too once she lets the wild in. "Dance with Brian, Sylvie. You deserve to have some fun."

"I do?" Sylvie's hips started bouncing side to side in time to the unruly rhythm of young people's music. Her shock faded. A thrumming sense of belonging replaced it. She was one with the music. She loosened her shoulders and let them shimmy. Brian thrust his hips and swayed his arms in front of her. She laughed. "This is crazy. Crazy!"

"That's it... you'll be in my bevy... Mrs. Kim." He could feel her shy away from him when he reached out his hand, but she didn't go too far. He held her hip and spun her so that her back was to him. He guided her, showing her how to use her ass to toy with him.

"Oh... gosh... is this really... okay?" Sylvie looked over at Darby. When Darby nodded her approbation, Sylvie shook her butt for all she was worth. She gyrated in ways that she'd seen young women do on television. But it was something she'd never thought she'd be part of. The song was over. Another rap song came on, and it didn't bother Sylvie at all. Even when Brian put both hands on her hips, she didn't miss a beat. When he started rubbing his privates on her butt, she did have a moment of worry. That left her quickly. This was what kids were doing these days. She was dancing with an eighteen-year-old. It would be rude to ask him not to do as they do.

"You want... to be my doe... Mrs. Kim? You want... to be... in my... bevy?" Brian lifted the hem of her dress up, showing more and more of her slender, pale legs. Soon, he was pressing up against her panty-clad ass.

"I'm not sure... what you're talking about." Sylvie had to shout to be heard over the music. Suddenly, the young man was forcefully turning her around. His lips were on hers. His arms held her firmly, his hands pressing into her delicate back. She went limp. Was he really kissing her, a married woman, in front of his own mother?

Brian was expecting her to struggle, but she took more of a wet noodle approach to his advance. In fact, he had to hold her up to keep her from collapsing. He explored her mouth with his tongue. He wasn't practiced with kissing. Despite his mother's blowjobs, he hadn't yet made out with her. But he had been with a few girls in high school.

Darby watched in awe. Her son was a force of nature. She expected Sylvie to push him away at any moment, but instead her hands hesitantly went to his shoulders. And then she folded her arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss. Darby could tell she was kissing him back now. What would Mr. Kim think of his wife? Was Sylvie a hidden slut all along? Did Brian somehow know?

When Brian reached a hand down to her butt and squeezed, the move only inflamed Sylvie. This young, sleek man desired her! He wants me for his bevy, whatever that is. She danced her tongue with his. It was a bit awkward kissing him, she suspected they both were without much practice. Regardless, she loved it. She was melting in his arms. Melting into him. Rubbing her crotch into that huge, hard thing he had stuffed in his underwear. Wait... it wasn't hard like that before.

Another rap song came on, and the couple grinded up against each other, lost in each other's arms.

~~

April 8, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

"Holy... moly... you've gotten good at that... Joey." Hani was on her boyfriend's bed. She was naked from the waist down, with his fingers buried in her pussy. There was a towel under her. She didn't want to ruin his bedding, so she'd demanded they put down a towel any time he went to work on her. "You're... ooooohhhhhh... now... way better... than that guy... from my old school... Ben... Blain... Brian... something... uuuuggghhhhhhhhh. I've... nnngggggg... forgotten... his name." Her left eyelash fluttered, and her pupils rolled back. "Nnngggggggggggg."

Joe removed his hand and watched her hips buck. She squirted with several gushes, mostly getting it on the towel.

When her orgasm subsided, she lay on his bed with a goofy smile on her lips. "I... feel... really... good."

There was a knock on the door.

"I'm home, Joey," Carrie said with her ear up against the door. "Is Hani over?"

"Yeah, Mom." Joe smiled, winked at Hani, and pulled off his pants and boxers. His dick was turgid, swaying heavily with his movements. "Don't come in this time. She just finished squirting again."

Hani's eyes went wide. "Behave yourself. That was embarrassing," she whispered, playfully slapping his shoulder. "And... she's your mother, dude." Despite her shock at his words, she couldn't keep her eyes off his dick. How lucky was she that her family moved down the hall from him?

"Are... you joking?" Carrie sounded confused.

"Yeah, bad joke. Sorry, Mom." Joe moved on his knees next to Hani, bringing the head of his cock inches from her pretty, brown lips.

The door handle turned and the hinges squeaked.

"Don't come in here, Mom!" Joe laughed. "I was joking about the squirting, but we're not all the way dressed."

The door closed with a thump.

"You really want a blowjob with your mom in the apartment?" Hani gazed at the eye of his cock with skepticism. She kept her voice hushed.

Joe nodded, smiling as he watched his girlfriend suck the head of his dick into her mouth. "Hani's doing something naughty, Mom. So, we'll need our privacy for a while."

Hani stopped bobbing her head and gently pressed her teeth into his cockflesh. It wasn't enough to hurt him, just enough for him to know she wasn't all bark and no bite. She looked up at Joe and made eye contact.

"Okay, I'll stop teasing." Joe shrugged.

"Do you... um... have the condoms with you?" Carrie tapped her foot nervously, her ear pressed to the door. She still couldn't believe that he'd talked her into buying condoms for him. "If you're going to... do stuff... you need condoms." She felt like he'd been pushing her and pushing her, but finally here was a line she would not cross.

"They're in the bathroom, Mom. Can you open the door a crack and slip them through?" Joe ran his fingers through Hani's thick hair.

"Okay." Carrie squeaked and hurried off to the bathroom.

Hani popped her mouth off his dick and smiled up at him. "Abshir should take lessons from you. Mom has been busting his balls lately. You're so smooth. You have your mom wrapped around your finger. I can't imagine getting my mom to buy me condoms and bring them to me while I had you over. Her head would explode." She kissed and licked his cock. "Also, we're not having sex. You would break me with this." She squeezed his shaft with her hand.
"I just wanted to mess with her. We're not having sex... now. Can you imagine us fucking with her listening to you shriek and cuss?" Joe laughed. "But we will have sex sometime. When we have more privacy."

"Doubtful." Hani circled her hand around his dick. "My fingers don't even touch. You're a fun toy to play with, Joe, but I'm not going to let you destroy me."

The door opened a crack, the condoms fell into the room, and the door closed.

"Be safe, Joey." Carrie was back to listening at the door.

"Safe is my middle name, Mom." He cupped the back of Hani's head and guided her back to the blowjob.

~~

December 2, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"This is... real?" Sylvie was on her knees in front of the teenager, the skirt of her dress pooled on the floor around her. She was dimly aware that her friend sat on the sofa watching them. She was even less cognizant of the world outside her friend's apartment. Her husband was out there somewhere. So were her kids. It seemed that her everyday life and the penis in front of her couldn't exist in the same universe. Which was real? She knew which one had the firmer grip on her mind... and loins. "I mean... it can't be real... right?" The rhythm of the music coming over the stereo vibrated her insides.

"Touch it, Mrs. Kim. It's plenty real." Brian looked over at his mother. He could tell she disproved of his gloating. So, he decided to take this more seriously. "Turn off the music, Mom."

Darby hustled to the cassette deck, hit stop, and ran back to the sofa. She sat with her hands in her lap, watching Sylvie regard Brian's penis. She hadn't realized how much it would turn her on to see Brian seduce another woman. Is there a way I can touch myself without them noticing me? She thought not, so she kept her hands in her lap.

The novel silence in the apartment was oppressive. Sylvie needed to say something just to break the quiet. "This must be what those women who hire strippers feel like. We're both dressed, and you... Brian... are nude. I didn't think I'd ever see... or touch... another one." She dared not make eye contact with anyone in the room for fear of losing her nerve.

"Check it out. You deserve to let the wild in, Mrs. Kim." Brian put his hands behind his head, flexing his lithe muscles for her. "This is going to be rad."

"I do feel wild today," Sylvie whispered. She reached out her left hand with more conviction than she expected, seizing the massive thing at about its midsection. "The veins... are really... bulgy."

"Put him in your mouth, Sylvie!" Darby blurted the words. Why had she ever wanted to be her son's only girlfriend? She had been incredibly mistaken.

Without thinking, Sylvie stretched her jaw wide, closed her eyes, and complied. "Mmmppphhhh." I've gone crazy. Darby's gone crazy. It felt like her life had been rolling along a perfectly flat, predictable table, and today, it had fallen off the edge. She was free-falling, and had only the penis to hold onto. Well that, and his big, hairy balls. She hefted one of his testicles with her right hand, while she pumped his penis with her left. Normally, when she pleased her husband, she bobbed her head on his thing. But Brian was too big for normally. So, she suctioned the head and rolled her tongue along the underside.

"How do you think she looks, Mom?" Brian kept his eyes focused on Sylvie's distorted face. "She's not so pretty sucking on my dick, right?"

Her son's words sent a bolt of electricity down Darby's spine. She shivered, not knowing what to say. She opened her mouth and grunted like an excited, feral beast. Surprised by the noises she was making, she tried to form words, but huffed and grunted again.

Brian laughed. "I think you broke my mom's brain, Mrs. Kim."

"Mmmppphhhhhh." Sylvie opened her eyes and looked up at Brian's taught chest and abdomen. I've broken both our brains, I think. How will I ever look Darby in the eyes again?

"Suck it." Brain put his hand on the back of her black, stylish hair, pulling her further onto his dick.

"Gggaaaackkk... gggaaacckkkkk." Sylvie's eyes watered. She was being manhandled by a troubled youth, and... she loved it. She had always avoided gagging with her husband. It had never been a pleasant feeling. Now, each choke was like wearing a badge of honor. This young hunk of a man desired her enough to shove his thing down her throat. "Gaaaaccckkkkk."

"Oh... my... gosh." Darby's whole body vibrated with energy. Is that what I look like with Brian's penis in my mouth? It was like seeing Beauty and the Beast twisted into her most wild fantasy. Brian looked abominable. Sylvie was so petite and pretty. Or at least she had been pretty before making half of Brian's penis disappear into her mouth. Now, she had a double chin, her cheeks were bloated and misshapen, her forehead was furrowed, and her mascara was running down her cheeks. I must look equally corrupted when I pleasure him. No wonder he looks down at me that way.

"We're going to have an amazing bevy, Mrs. Kim." Brian pulled her pink lips almost off his dick, and then shoved it back in. He did that again and again. Soon, he was humping her face. "Welcome to 3838 Walnut Street, the wildest building in all of New York."

"Holy... smokes." Darby was beside herself. Brian had never treated her so roughly. Her hand slipped under her dress, inside her panties, and found her gushing vagina. She rubbed her clitoris in quick little circles, watching the corruption in her living room. Whatever happened after today, she was sure Brian would feel emboldened. And she... would be a lot more willing to give him whatever he wanted.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 12
Brian and Darby really rock out.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

May 3, 1940: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"It has become apparent that She no longer approves of you." Elizabeth frowned at the man tied up in her living room. She stood naked, her pale curves glowing in the bright daylight that fell through the nearest window. "You have failed and failed to give Her a vessel."

"We can try some more!" Royce lay on the mossy floor of 14B. He was on his side, naked, directly in front of the statue that they referred to as the Hungarian Lady. His hands were bound behind his back, and his legs were tied together. He willed his penis to harden for his mistress, but it was still slumbering. "I long to be inside you again, but I do need to rest."

"Mrs. Creech?" Elizabeth looked over at one of her three guests. Natalie and Nancy were both nude as well, on their knees, bowing repeatedly to the statue. They had black ash markings on their pale bodies, applied earlier with their fingers: powerful symbols of a long-forgotten religion.

Natalie paused, keeping her spine straight. "You must do what's best for the wild, mistress. As you say, perhaps we've been using Mr. Creneling's liquids incorrectly."

"Mrs. Creneling?" Elizabeth looked over at her neighbor. She waited, but Nancy did not reply. "Mrs. Creneliiiiinnnggggg? What should we do with your husband?"

"I'm ... so sorry, Royce. She put something inside me. I can feel it pulsing." Nancy continued bowing to the statue, not looking her husband in the eye. "Please, mistress, do as She bids. My husband has not given me a child. I fear that he's dry. Which means, he won't give you one either."

"Very well." Elizabeth turned her solemn gaze to the man now struggling on her floor. The claws on her left hand extended in a quick flash. "You should be honored. With your sacrifice, Mr. Creneling, we will release a forest in Manhattan. The world will right itself. And She will watch over us."

"No ... wait ... I can serve the building. You'll need loyal men to get jobs here. To look after your ... interests." All the color left Royce's face. He spoke in a quick staccato. "And ... I have money. You'll need money to pay the rent and ... to buy things. And ... I pleased you, didn't I? You could tumble with me whenever you wanted to. At your leisure."

Elizabeth cocked her head and rubbed her chin with her right hand. "I have thought about your proposal, and here is my reply." She swung her claws at him. Blood sprayed, splattering the statue.

Royce screamed.

"I will have enough men to serve me. You are not inimitable or indispensable." Elizabeth slashed him again.

Royce went quiet.

"Your wife has just inherited your money." Elizabeth splattered more blood on the statue. "And you please me more like this than you ever did with your penis." She bent, wiped her claws on the moss, and knelt, waiting. "Now ... your sacrifice is complete. Guide me, Ogganse."

The room was silent. The three praying women heard nothing. They all waited.

After a time, it became clear that the sacrifice had failed.

Elizabeth screamed.

~~

February 1, 1955: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Norwood." Ralf Berger eyed Elizabeth, who was sitting primly in one of his client chairs. He leaned his elbows on his desk. The woman's assistant stood by the open door to his office. Both women seemed unnaturally pallid and wore clothes more than a decade out of date. Combine those elements with Elizabeth's glossy, raven hair, and Ralf thought they looked positively gothic. "My clients are not interested in selling 3838 Walnut Street. And, I must say, the sum that you offered would be laughable even if they were."

"I can gather more resources." Elizabeth didn't care for this man, nor his double-breasted suit and Windsor-knotted tie. But she would play nice. "At least let me have a meeting with the owners. Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins, right?"

Ralf frowned, etching deep lines on his forehead and cheeks. She must have some connections. His clients were hidden behind their company.

"Mr. Berger?" Elizabeth smiled pleasantly.

"It simply can't happen. I would need to see your bona fides." He shook his head. "Which you haven't brought. I'm afraid you're wasting my time." He stood. "Good day, Mrs. Norwood."

"Good day, Mr. Berger." Elizabeth remained seated. She gave her head one, curt nod.

Natalie closed the door and stood in front of it. "What do you need, mistress?"

"See that he stays quiet." Elizabeth steepled her alabaster hands in front of her. "I don't want to be interrupted."

"This is preposterous. I must ask you to leave." Ralf buttoned his coat to show that he meant business. He was surprised by how quickly the assistant crossed his office. He had time only to let out the quickest little yelp before she sprung over his desk and clamped her hand on his mouth. If he thought the meeting was absurd before, what came next he would find downright insane.

~~

December 3, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

Darby's hand shook as she knocked on her son's door. Her mind had been ablaze ever since she'd watched her son seduce her friend the day before. She had tried to quench that fire with her husband early that morning. He had been willing, but he'd left her unsatisfied. That was why she carried a surprise for her son hidden in her cleavage. She was almost desperate with need. She knocked again.

"Come in already. Sheesh." Brian was reading a comic in bed, lying naked on top of the blanket.

Darby opened the door and stepped into her son's bedroom. Warm light filtered in from the window over his bed. As she glanced at the window, one of the gargoyles appeared to be leering at her. I swear those things move when I'm not looking. She rushed across his room and closed his curtain.

"Hey, I need that light to read." Brian put down the comic and gave his mother a sour expression.

"Now, Brian, you know you shouldn't be lounging naked. What if your father came in here and saw that ... leviathan ... resting on your thigh?" She pointed to his slumbering penis. With its knobby head and blue-black veins, it seemed to be a threat even when it wasn't ready for her. A rush of nervous excitement flooded her body. Her heart rattled her rib cage. Her tummy flipped over and over. What am I doing?

"We've been over this, Mom. I don't care about Dad. He won't be leading this family too much longer." His lips curved into a tight smile. "Anyway, if you're in my room, it means he left for work. Are you ready for breakfast?" He lifted his dick and presented his balls on the palm and fingers of his hand, hefting them for her.

"No. I'm not using my mouth on you today." She shook her head and slowly stepped over to his bed. She cringed when his expression filled with anger. Quickly, she held up placating hands. "Don't worry. I'm not denying you."

"Go on." Brian pumped his cock, feeling it slowly engorge. His mother looked even more agitated and excited around him than usual. What is she planning?

"Watching you with Sylvie yesterday ... was ... oh my gosh ... really out of this world." Darby pulled down her jeans slowly, giving Brian a show. She undulated her hips side to side, and spun slowly around, to give him the backside view she knew he loved. Oh boy, is he ever going to get a backside view today! "Sylvie was so surprised the first time you sprayed her face. Gosh ... the way she sputtered. And then you pulled her back for another and another. She was drinking from your penis like ... a harlot ... during the last one. And then I had to clean her up, lend her a dress, and send her back to her husband. I ..." Darby shivered as she stepped out of her pants. She then slowly lifted her sweater over her head. "I don't know how we got here. But ... I feel like a groupie for one of your bands. I can't stop thinking about you, Brian. I know you want more from me." She was wearing a leopard-print bodysuit that buttoned at the crotch. There were no panties underneath.

"That's all it took? I just had to cum on your friend?" Brian laughed. He was hard now, his long dick pointing at the mysterious thirteenth floor above them.

"You're driving me wild, Brian. I want to rock out with you!" Darby's mind had been caught in a current. She knew her thinking was warped by her son's presence. Even though he was slender, he looked so athletic. So full of potential energy. He was just waiting for her to turn him kinetic. "Do you want to ... do it with me?" She reached into her cleavage and pulled out a condom, holding it up next to her face and giving him a look of feigned shock. "I'll be your Belle if you'll be my Beast."

"You can lose the ..." Brian paused. No, he shouldn't push her. Everything was going according to plan. She was marching herself right into his bed. The condom could stay for now.

"Lose what, pumpkin?" Darby frowned. "I thought you would be happy."

"Lose nothing, Mom. I am happy." He stopped jacking his cock and gave her a wicked smile. Once I get it inside her, it's as good as over. How many days until she forgets about condoms? Five, Ten? No more than a month for sure. "Put the tape over there in the deck and hit play."

"Okay." Darby skipped across the room. When the rock song started playing, she swayed her hips for him, and held her hair up with one hand. The other hand was holding the condom in the air like it was a prize he'd won. She slowly worked her way back to his bed. When she was close, she danced for him while unbuttoning the crotch of her bodysuit. She pulled the flap up and angled her pelvis so he could see her vagina. The look of hunger in his eyes melted her body and mind. We're going to do it. We're really going to do it.

"It's time." Brian patted the blanket next to him.

Still swaying to the music, Darby held out the condom and ripped the foil packet. She had watched her husband put his on enough times that she knew not to unroll it right away. "Let me get us protected." She smiled as she placed the disc of the condom on top of his knobby penis head. Her smile widened. The condom looked like a silly, little hat. His penis wasn't quite so frightening with a goofy cap. She shivered nonetheless.

Brian studied his mother closely as she struggled to unroll the condom over his dick. After a few seconds, her smile faded. Then she stuck out the tip of her tongue in concentration. Then she furrowed her brow in confusion. Finally, she let out a long sigh of frustration.

"It's stretchy, but not stretchy enough. Maybe with a little more force ..." She pulled the thing outward with her fingers. "Oh ... there it goes." She rolled it on. It went about a third of the way down his shaft. She knew how the condoms looked on her husband, and this was comical by comparison. "The poor thing looks like it might break at any moment." She poked the valiantly stretching plastic material. "What do you think, Brian?" She glanced at him hopefully. She wanted him to tell her it would be okay. How odd. I'm his mother. I should be steering him toward better decisions. Instead, I'm asking him to steer me toward risky ones.

"Giddy-up, cowgirl." Brian didn't think the condom would hold either. He wasn't worried about it. "Hop on and ride."

"Yes, okay." Darby stood and planted her feet on either side of his hips. She'd never mounted a man like this before, but she'd never dealt with a penis this height either. "I'm really nervous, sweetie. Really, really nervous. My belly is filled with a whole swarm of butterflies." She reached under her and held his penis upright. It was so frightful, yet so familiar to her now. She knew its girth, its weight, and the contours of the veins protruding from the shaft. She could have identified it blindfolded. "I just keep thinking about you with Sylvie. I don't want you to do this with her first. I'm happy watching you with her. But it should be me, Brian. It should be my vagina that ... aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh."

"How does it feel?" Brian could see her pupils dilate. Her mouth hung open, letting out a low, animal whine. She looked almost panicked, but she wasn't lifting her hips off him.

"Ooohhhhhhhh ... Brian ... Brian ... it feels ... like my vagina ... is angry with me." She let herself slip a fraction of an inch down his shaft. The music thumped and bounced around the room, urging her on. Her hips started twitching in time to the beat.

"You're a rockstar, Mom." He lifted up the flap of her bodysuit so he could see his dick disappearing inside of her. Her pink lips were spread obscenely beneath the black triangle of hair. The sight was glorious.

"Oooohhhhhhh ... you're the rockstar ... Brian. I'm your ... uuuuggghhhh ... groupie." She could see he was having trouble with her bodysuit. With a little struggle, she lifted it over her head. While it was covering her face, and her arms were up in the air, she accidentally slid down a few inches. "Eeeeeeeiiiiiiiiii." If her vagina had been angry before, now it was in a rage. She struggled out of the leopard print garment and tossed it to the floor. She still had her feet planted on the blanket, squatting on top of him. "This is ... oooohhhhhh ... an absurd position ... for sex. I feel ... uuuggghhhhhhh ... like a monkey. Like an ... aaaahhhhhh ... overstuffed ... mommy ... monkey."

Brian laughed and put his hands on her knees. "That's what you are. Let the wild in."

Purpose suddenly burned in Darby's eyes, replacing the dazed fright that had been there before. She lowered herself again.

"Say it, Mom. Tell me you're letting the wild in." Brian ran his hands down her slender calves, feeling them strain with the effort of keeping her balance in that strange squat.

"Ggghhhaaaaaa! Mmmmoooooooo ... ghhhhrrrrraaa!" Darby tried to form the words, but she found she could only make beastly noises. Maybe I'm the Beast and he's Belle. She shook her head. No, that wasn't right. I'm not the Beast, I'm ffffuuuuulllllllllllllll. "Aaarrrrrggghhhhhh." Despite the pain, or maybe even because of it, she dropped her hips and speared herself completely. Her body twitched and shuddered, her eyes rolled, and her language was reduced to grunts and yapping cries. What's happening to meeeeeeeeee?

"Shit ... Mom." He watched his mother go crazy. Drool ran down her chin. Her eyes went wide, showing much more of the whites than usual. Her whole body trembled and shook in wild undulations that seemed to run up her spine. Brian knew that a woman's orgasm could be quite a sight, but he hadn't expected his mother to go so feral so quickly. "You really are letting the wild in." He could feel her pussy clamping on his dick in rhythm to the music. She was in that discombobulated state for several minutes. Eventually, intelligence brightened her dull eyes again. She looked down at her son, muttering to herself. He smacked her boob to get her attention. "I'm guessing that was new for you," Brian said.

"Ooohhhh ... Brian ... it still hurts ... but it also ... I've never ... I mean ... it feels so ... uuughhhhhh ... good." Darby extended her thin arms and dug her nails into his lean, muscular chest. Her hips started bouncing on his. Short, little jumps at first, because that's what she was used to with her husband. "Just wait ... until Sylvie ... feels this. She's going to go ... uuuggghhhh ... wild."

"You're going to ... ah ... ah ... ah ... bring her here ... to take me in her pussy?" Brian smacked his mother's tit again. "You're going to ... serve her up to me? To be ... ugh ... ugh ... in my bevy."

"Yes ... Brian ... yes ... Brian ... whatever you want." Darby burst into tears of joy, her mascara running down her cheeks. The music beat on, and her hips kept pace. She realized she was bouncing higher on his penis now. "I'm going to ... have another one ... ... I'm ... going ... ssssssnnnnneeeeeeeee ... uuughhh ... uuuuggghhhhh." She thrust her pelvis against his and shuddered. Her spine arched, and she stared unseeing at the ceiling. Her strange cries were louder than the music. But the days of worrying about noise complaints were long behind her.

The next half hour was a kaleidoscope of mind-bending ecstasy for Darby. She rode him through orgasms that she wouldn't have thought possible until that morning. When he pushed her off and positioned her on her hands and knees, she knew she was already hopelessly hooked on his penis. She was about to find out how much her new craving had eroded her sense of right and wrong.

"The condom broke, Mom." Brian got behind her and flopped his frothy cock on her ass cheek. The condom was wrapped around the middle of the shaft, but the protective bubble it had given them was annihilated. "You want to get another one?"

"Oh ... gosh ... just put it back in!" She looked over her shoulder at his amazing body. "You wanted ... to be my stag ... right? Mount me. Mount me. I don't care anymore."

Not bothering to remove the shredded remains of the condom, Brian lined his dick up with the wide cavern that was his mother's resized pussy. "I want you to have sex with Dad tonight."

"Why?" Darby grimaced with anticipation. Why isn't he putting it back in? "I won't be able to feel him. He might notice I'm different down there."

"You just answered your own question." Brian shoved into her pussy, listening to her squeal. The cassette stopped, leaving his mother's strange sounds more room to move around them. Soon the noises of skin smacking against skin, and her wet, squelching pussy, joined her odd whimpering moans. He grabbed her hips and found a rhythm. "This is ... ugh ... ugh ... right. This is ... good."

"Brian ... ooohhhhhh ... Brian ... so deep ... Brian ... I can't think ... I can't think ... I can't do anything ... but brace myself ... for each of your ... eeeeiiiiiiiiii." Another orgasm hit her.

A little while later, Brian didn't bother to announce that he was about to cum. It was clear she wasn't going to stop him. He had wondered how long before she took her proper place holding his seed. He had thought five or ten days. That had been way off. It was inside an hour. "Uuugghhh ... uuuggghhhh ... uuuggghhhhhh."

"Ggggrrrraaaaaa ... ssssnnnnaaaaaa!" Darby gripped the blanket with white knuckles, her breasts swaying wildly underneath her. When she felt the heat of his stuff inside her womb, her sounds reached a new fever pitch. She arched her spine and climaxed with her son.

~~

April 8, 2015: Apartment 12C, the Marland family.

The book was in front of her eyes, but Carrie found that she couldn't remember what she'd been reading for pages and pages. Her mind was preoccupied. It was late at night, and she was in bed next to her snoring husband. She shook Gabe's shoulder. "What happened to our little boy? Joey's all grown up. I don't like it."

"Hmmm?" Gabe rolled over and blearily opened his eyes. "What time is it?" His wife came into focus. She was propped up on her pillow, frowning, with a book on her lap.

"What happened to Joey, Gabe? He was hiding behind my skirts not that long ago. Now he's ... so wild." Carrie closed the book and put it on the nightstand. She was wearing one of her husband's oversized t-shirts as pajamas.

"I don't know about that. You hardly ever wear skirts, babe." Gabe wore more traditional pajamas. He pulled down the bottoms and rolled on top of her.

"Oh ... Gabe ... we already had sex tonight. We don't have to ..." She could feel his hardness bouncing against her belly and thighs as he got into position. She didn't stop him. Maybe some lovemaking would take her mind off of her motherly troubles. "I'm a little dry. Maybe ... um ... we should get ..."
"What was that ... about Joey?" Gabe pulled her panties to the side and entered his wife. As his hips got underway, he ran his hands over her strong, athletic body. He ended up reaching under her and gripping her ripe ass with both hands.

"It's just that ... ooohhhhh ... I think Joey ... is having sex with his girlfriend." Carrie looked up at the ceiling with a preoccupied gaze. Her vagina was not quite lubricated, so it wasn't comfortable sex. But she knew it would be over soon.

"With ... ah ... ah ... that hot black chick ... from down the hall?" Gabe smiled at his wife.

"I wish ... you wouldn't talk like that." Carrie avoided her husband's eyes, putting her hands behind her knees to open more for him more. "Her name's Hani. You know that. And she's his ... ugh ... girlfriend."

"Can you imagine ... ah ... ah ... what she looks like ... naked ... with that dark skin? No wonder ... Joey's hitting that." Gabe was getting close, his hips speeding up.

"Don't be gross, honey. I just wish ... he wasn't in such a hurry to grow up." She turned her head and looked out the window. A whole city out there, and they had to move down the hall from the Dahir family. Maybe Joey would be single if it wasn't for Hani.

"Hurry ... to grow up? He's eighteen ... Carrie." Gabe was hanging on the edge of his orgasm. "Have you seen how much ... he's matured in the past ... few months? That black girl ... is really hot. He's a Marland ... he deserves to have her ... in the sack."

"Oh ... God ... Gabe." Carrie looked over at the dumb, pre-orgasmic expression on her husband's face. "You're not ... picturing them ... having sex ... are you? He's your son, and she's a teenager. That's so gross."

"Cumming ... babe." Gabe emptied himself in his wife.

Within a few minutes, her husband was snoring again. Quietly, Carrie got up to clean her vagina in the bathroom. As she walked, she caught herself chewing on her fingernails and stopped. She'd been doing more and more of that lately. She was really worried about Joe and talking with her husband hadn't helped at all.

~~

April 9, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

Uba stood at the front door wearing her hijab and dress, with her purse slung over her shoulder. She was torn. She needed to go into work. But her family had all just left the apartment. She was alone for the first time that day. She grabbed the handle but didn't turn it. Her hands were trembling. "I don't need it. I don't need it. I don't." She shook her head slowly as she moved away from the door and walked into the kitchen. She put her purse on the table and fished out her phone. She stared at it, hands still trembling.

"It's just a sock. My son's dirty sock." She frowned at the phone. She could see her reflection in the glass. She looked tired and harried. She looked desperate. Glancing at the clock, she knew she was going to be late for work if she continued to vacillate.

"Okay, fine. But I'll never do this again." Uba turned on the phone and called the store. She told them she wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be coming in. The second she disconnected, her body was flooded with anticipatory pleasure. She put the phone down and rushed to her son's room.

Of course, the place was a mess. She hunted first in his hamper, digging all the way to the bottom. When that didn't work, she moved around the room, picking up clothes. She always told the twins, when you can't find something, it's time to clean. So, that's what she did. She found the sock tucked into a corner by his desk. It was still wet and sticky. It's fresh! Without thinking, her hand brought it to her nose, and she inhaled deeply. Her eyelids fluttered, her vagina gushed, and her nipples contracted and stiffened. Her body shuddered. This was what she needed. She needed to become part of his budding masculinity. It was okay, because nobody knew, and she wouldn't skip work for it again. I'm not doing anything wrong. People have hidden joys all the time.

While she was busy rationalizing, she found herself rushing to his bed, lifting her dress, and pulling her panties down her legs. It had only been the day before when she'd started masturbating, and she was already more skilled with her vagina than her husband. Why did he ignore her clitoris? Now that she knew what the little button could do, it seemed silly of him.

Sock to her nose, legs in the air, she worked herself to orgasm after orgasm. By the time she was satisfied, several hours had passed. On trembling legs, she stood, picked up her panties, and put his sock in the hamper. Her whole body was buzzing. The world seemed a brighter, more magical place. As she stumbled to the bathroom, she couldn't help but feel that things were finally right in her life. She was supposed to be surrounded by beguiling, musky masculinity.

While washing her hands, she regarded herself in the mirror. Uba had to admit that she was glowing. She washed her hands and removed her hijab. Still in her dress, she struck a seductive pose. "This is me," she said to her reflection. "I have never been more a woman than I am today." She dried her hands and wondered what she'd do with the rest of her day. She had hours until her family returned to the apartment. She didn't have work. "I could go out for lunch," she mused aloud. The thought appealed to her.

Back in the shower for the second time that morning, she hummed a happy melody to herself. Once clean and dry, she put on a new outfit. With a little hop to her step, she went to the kitchen, got her purse and phone, and walked to the front door. She paused with her fingers on the handle.

Looking over her shoulder, she could have sworn she heard a deep, male grunting noise. She listened but heard nothing again. The grunting had seemed so intimate and urgent. So, feral. It made her legs go to jelly and her mind swim. "I'm imagining what Abshir would sound like when he's ... um ..."

Her son's room seemed to be calling to her. She let go of the handle and ran to Abshir's room, racing for the sock. Soon, she was back on his bed, rubbing her button, with the smell of his spent seed in her nostrils. It was paradise.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 13
Elizabeth struggles with negotiation.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

April 15, 2015: Apartment 12C and 12E, the Marland and Dahir families.

"You're not dressed, Mom." Joe jogged into the living room in a t-shirt and shorts. He was wearing adequate under-support, but even so, he could see his mother give a concerned glance at his crotch.

Carrie turned off the Bible study podcast she was listening to and frowned. He was so strong and handsome. This isn't right. Joey's supposed to be the black sheep. He's not like his brothers. She cleared her throat. "I'm not going to go running with you. I changed my mind." She smoothed out her dress. "It's cold today."

"It's not that cold." Without hesitation, Joe reached down and lifted his mother into the air. He threw her over his shoulder. He held her by the backs of her thighs and carried her out of the room.

"Joey!" Carrie squealed and kicked her legs feebly. No man had ever handled her like that. "Put me down." Her brown hair hung over her eyes, obscuring the apartment as it spun and sped past her. When he tickled her belly, she couldn't help but laugh. "What are you doing? Put me down."

"As you command, my queen." Joe gently placed her on her bed, looking down upon her with supreme confidence.

Carrie's heart thumped. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Tears welled in her eyes from laughing. She tried to frown at him but couldn't manage it. "Why... did you bring me in here?" Carrie found that she liked what he'd done. It was so playful... and strong. She liked it very much. "Why... are you just staring at me... Joey?"

"I brought you in here so you can get dressed. Hani is running with us today. I don't want you to miss it." He turned and headed to the door. "Throw on a sweatshirt over your running outfit, you'll be fine." He left her bedroom and closed the door.

"Oh... okay." Carrie sat up, still panting. She found that her body was humming with excitement. "Okay... I should spend some time with my son's girlfriend," she whispered to herself, while getting up to put on her running clothes.

Fifteen minutes later, Carrie was running through the park with Hani and Joe. It was a blessing to have Hani along. The young woman did not have the kind of endurance that the Marlands' had, so Joe jogged slowly for her. Usually, Carrie had to struggle to keep up with her son. Today, she was barely out of breath. "So... Hani, what are you planning for... after graduation?" Carrie glanced at the young woman. She was perhaps a little jealous of Hani's curvy, eighteen-year-old body. Hani was wearing stretch pants and a tight top, and everything seemed to move exactly as it should. Carrie still kept in great shape, but she wouldn't ever be eighteen again.

Hani sucked in air, trying not to panic at the cramp that was terrorizing her side.

"After... graduation, Hani?" Carrie smiled, pumping her arms as they plodded along the path.

"She's winded, Mom." Joe turned around and moved in front of his women, jogging backward to keep his eyes on them. "Hani, do you need to stop and take a breather?"

Hani shook her head and winced at the pain in her side. "We can't stop... we need to... slow down... first." She tried to smile at her boyfriend, who was obviously showing off. She glanced at Carrie. It was embarrassing that a forty-nine-year-old lady was in better shape than her. And Carrie looked so slim in her tight running pants. Hani couldn't help but feel pudgy next to these two twigs. In the future, don't date men from athletic families. But of course, there were benefits. Joe had all those muscles that Hani couldn't keep her hands off of. I need to answer Mrs. Marland's question in as few words as possible. "Um... NYU."

"Oh, that's a great school." Carrie smiled and launched into a long monologue about one of her friends that had graduated from NYU.

Hani was grateful that she wasn't called upon to talk any further.

~~

December 3, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"Rachel's coming into the city for dinner tomorrow night, right? What's the plan?" Greg sat at the table with his wife and son. They had both been spacey and oddly giggly all evening. He scooped a dumpling onto his spoon and slurped it up. If he didn't know better, he would think they were on drugs.

"Oh, no... Rachel?" Darby rubbed the back of her neck. "I'd forgotten. Shoot, she's coming in the early afternoon, isn't she?"

"Do you have other plans?" Greg glared at his wife.

"Plans? I don't know, Brian, did we have plans?" Darby blushed, giggled, and stared lovingly at her son.

Brian shrugged and laughed. "I had some music I wanted to play for you." He sipped his soup.

Darby's cheeks turned a deeper shade of crimson, and she giggled more. "I suppose... it's fine if Rachel comes in. I'm really sore and..." She snapped her mouth shut and stopped giggling. Her eyes turned to her husband. She remembered that Brian had told her she had to be intimate with Greg later. It wouldn't be easy. She really was sore from the dredging her son had given her. "I'm really sore, and I could use some time to rest with Rachel."

Greg narrowed his eyes. "Have you been working out again? You're clumsy, Darby. Remember the last time you sprained your ankle?"

"It's okay. It's just a workout show on TV." She gave Brian a furtive glance.

"Shit, Mom. You might as well tell him." Brian slurped his soup loudly.

"What?" Greg paused with another dumpling on its way to his mouth. He put his spoon back in the bowl and scrutinized Darby some more. She looked guilty. What had she gotten herself into this time?

"Oh... I'm sorry for trying to hide it from you, Greg." Darby's mind raced. She certainly wasn't going to tell him that she'd let their son bone her all day, even after the condom broke. "I... um... sprained my ankle again. I'm sorry."

Greg laughed. "Is that all?" He shook his head like he'd married a total klutz. "Well, it's no big deal. Don't hide things from me next time, though. And try to get exercise doing something safer."

Unprotected sex with her rockstar son wasn't in the least bit safe. Darby didn't think her blush could deepen anymore. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "I'll try," she squeaked.

Later that night, Darby put on the lingerie that Greg had bought her for her fortieth birthday. The garments were frilly, and silly, and she prayed they would make Greg want her. She knew Brian would grill her about it the next day before Rachel arrived, and she didn't want to let him down. She walked out into their bedroom, swaying her hips. She was pleased when Greg looked up with a startled expression and put down his phone. She gave him her most alluring smile. "Hey there, tiger."

"Hey yourself." Greg smiled right back at her.

They were quickly humping on top of the sheets. Darby cooed for her husband and shouted encouragement. She had been worried that her vagina was too sore for sex. But she found that her husband's size wasn't a problem. I can barely feel him, thank goodness. "Oh... yes... Greg... that's the spot... give it to me." It probably helped that she was a sopping mess down there. She couldn't help thinking about all of Brian's sperm that was probably swimming around inside her at that very moment. The thought certainly opened the floodgates. "I'm safe right now... you can finish inside." She wasn't safe to the best of her knowledge, but just in case the unthinkable happened and Brian's swimmers found their mark, she figured she better have her husband finish inside, too.

"Aaaahhhhhh... Darby... you're such a slut... tonight." Greg was right on the edge. While he wasn't getting the sensation he normally got from his wife's vagina, her attitude was more than making up for it.

"Ooohhhh... Greg... yes... yes... yeessssss." She hoped she wasn't overacting. She tossed her head back and forth, trying to remember how she'd behaved when those orgasms had shattered her world earlier in the day. "Finish... in me." I won't have to trick Greg every night. I'll buy some bigger condoms for Brian tomorrow. She gripped her husband's back as he unloaded inside her. It was a nice moment. She reminded herself that she loved this man. She had married this man. Things hadn't turned out in her family life how she'd expected, but she was sure she could juggle the two men she loved.

~~

April 16, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

The door's squeak woke Abshir, pulling him from a dream of galloping through an ancient forest. As he oriented himself to his room, he lay still. Without his glasses, she was a blur, but he knew his mother's shape in her long nightgown as she slipped through the gloom. She had a small flashlight, and she was sweeping the dim beam across his floor.

It was clear to Abshir what was happening. She was searching for his cum sock. Ever since he'd hatched the plan, his sock had moved while he was out. She hadn't had a chance that day, so he was sure she was coming into his room now to get her sniff on. The yellow light of her search bounced off her glasses as she tiptoed around his room. Abshir smiled. She thinks she's so stealthy.

After several tense minutes, Uba still hadn't found the sock that she knew had to be somewhere in the room. She was thrown into a panic every time she made a noise. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. It's no big deal. I can tell him I was checking on him. I am his mother. Borrowing his sock is not harming anyone. Finally, she found the little treasure near the drawn curtains. She snatched up the crusty thing and turned off her flashlight. She snuck out of his room, quietly closed the door, and raced to the hallway bathroom. Her body buzzed with anticipation, pulse thundering in her ears. She slipped into the bathroom and locked the door.

Abshir waited a moment, put on his glasses, and crawled out of bed. He was naked, but didn't care who saw him like that. The apartment would be his, after all. The goddess had promised him a bevy. His mother, of course. Hani would be his, too. His heavy, flaccid cock swung between his legs as he opened his door and looked both ways down the hall. He could smell what his mother was doing in the bathroom. He could also hear her moans, and the sploshing of her fingers in her pussy. Even without his heightened senses, he would have found her. There was a crack of light under the closed bathroom door.

Oh, Mommy... game over. You lost and you don't even know it yet. He walked down the hall and leaned on the wall, enjoying her repressed noises of pleasure.

In the bathroom, Uba sat on the toilet lid, naked. Her nightgown was pooled on the tile floor with her panties. Her legs were spread, and her boobs jiggled on her chest with the motion of her thin arm. "Ooooohhhhhh... uuugggghhhhhhh." She grimaced, stifling the louder sounds that wanted to come out of her. It would be mortifying to wake the rest of the family with her shenanigans. I could have just waited until tomorrow. But no, that wasn't an option. She needed to surround herself in her son's budding masculinity. It couldn't wait.

Hani woke with a start when she heard something in the hall. She had been dreaming of Joe's body and didn't appreciate the interruption. She rolled over. Then she heard the floorboard creek. It's probably just Abshir going to the bathroom. She was starting to fall asleep when there was a soft knock on her door. She dragged herself out of bed, put on her glasses, and stumbled across the room. She was wearing an oversized flannel shirt and panties. The shirt was buttoned, and it was long enough to give her enough modesty around her family.

When his sister's door opened, Abshir nodded his head. "I think something's wrong with Mom. Come here."

"What are you...?" Hani was distracted by the red hue of his eyes. She turned to see what was reflecting off his glasses. When she turned back to him, the red light was gone. The distraction removed, she noticed he was naked. And he was hung like a horse. "What the fuck?" She whispered, shook her head, and went back to looking her brother in the eyes. I'm fucking out of it. Is this another dream? Her brother had a stupid, cocky grin on his face. "Put some clothes on before I find a heavy purse to fucking smash your little peepee with."

Involuntarily, Abshir covered his junk with his hands. He didn't like the gleam in his sister's eyes. "Fine. But while I'm changing, listen at the bathroom door and tell me what it sounds like."

He scurried back to his room. When he returned to the hall wearing pants, he found Hani with her ear pressed to the bathroom door. Her wide eyes were the only part of her that stuck out in the gloom. He walked up to her. "Did you -?"

Hani cut him off with a finger to her lips. She grabbed her brother's arm and pulled him back to her room. Once the door was closed, she pointed her finger at him. "What the hell? You wake me up in the middle of the night to hear Mom frigging herself?"

"I thought -"

"Newsflash, idiot, I don't want to hear that shit." She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "You fucking knew she wasn't in trouble. Is this some sort of revenge on her for when she smashed your dick? Guess what? You deserved it. And I don't care if Mom makes herself happy."

"But I -"

"Zip your fucking creepy ass lips, Abshir." Hani waved her finger back and forth. "You're in a tailspin, bro. You've been off for months. Start acting like your old self. Less cock swinging. More video games. Less perving on Mom. More... nerdy shit that you used to do."

"My bevy will -"

"Zip your fucking lips and leave Mom alone." She grabbed his shoulders, turned him around, opened her door, and shoved him into the hall. She gave him one last stern stare and shut the door in his face.

Abshir frowned as he walked back to his room. He could hear his mother valiantly trying to keep her voice down while cumming. He passed the bathroom, went back to his room, and slid into bed. As he fell back to sleep, he was filled with an oddly familiar feeling: doubt. It used to be with him all the time, but this was the first visit from it in a long while. He decided he didn't like it at all. Before school tomorrow he'd go down to the basement. He was sure Ogganse would make him feel better.

~~

February 1, 1955: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"I'm confused. Where's Mr. Berger?" Marcus Wilkins sat in his study, his wife standing by his side. The servants had just led Elizabeth and Natalie into the room. "Is he delayed?"

"Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins." Elizabeth nodded to each and took a seat in an armchair by the roaring fire. She beckoned Natalie to come over and stand by her. "Mr. Berger was kind enough to set this meeting. But I didn't think he needed to join us. I didn't bring a lawyer either. This is my assistant, Mrs. Creech."

Natalie nodded to the owners of 3838 Walnut Street.

"But... how will we review your paperwork without Mr. Berger?" Marcus took out a cigarette and lit it.

"I brought only a simple contract for sale. Very easy to understand. Problem solved." Elizabeth gave them a warm smile.

"Well, um... Mr. Berger said that you had an overwhelming offer for Walnut Street. I think you know that we're not inclined to sell. Any offer would really need to move the dial. Right, dear?" He looked up at his wife.

"Yes, indeed." Susan smiled and nodded. Her auburn hair bounced with the motion. "I think so." Whenever her husband addressed her, she knew she was called on to agree. "Would either of you ladies care for some coffee? We have French press. It's all the rage."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Wilkins. I am... thirsty." Elizabeth studied the woman. Susan was a little plump and quite timid. She would make a splendid follower if it came to that. "I'll have some coffee." Elizabeth watched Susan run off to fetch their drinks. She admired the flare from Susan's waist out to her hips. "Do you have any children, Mr. Wilkins?"

"I don't see how that has anything to do with our building." Marcus steepled his hands, trying to keep them from trembling. There was something off about these pale, unfashionable women. They were wearing dresses that looked to be from the 30s.

"No need to be snippy." Elizabeth maintained her warm smile.

When the servants and Susan returned with coffee, Susan served her guests. "Oh!" She was surprised when Elizabeth patted her butt. "I... I... never."

"Forgive me, I was just checking." Elizabeth sipped the coffee. It was good.

"Did you just...?" Marcus stared dumbfounded at Elizabeth. He reached out a protective arm to his wife when she returned to her standing position next to his chair. "Did she just...?"

Susan nodded her head and looked down at her husband with startled eyes.

Elizabeth let out a long sigh. "I forget sometimes how things work on the outside. Anyway, down to business." She made several solid offers and was rebuffed. Disappointed, she considered her options. It would be best if she didn't need to turn the wild on every person she came in contact with. Not, at least, until the goddess was free. But her dealings often came to that point. She looked up at Natalie. "Please lock the door, Mrs. Creech. I think our negotiations may need a good deal of privacy."

~~

December 4, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"Have a great day, honey." Darby kissed her husband on the cheek and watched him leave the apartment. The second he was gone, she retrieved her purse. She would give Greg about ten minutes to make sure he cleared the building. Then, she'd run out to the store, buy some large condoms, and return to wake Brian. She stood by the door, watching the clock and tapping her foot. She wore a sweater, jeans, sneakers, and a modest amount of makeup.

When enough time had passed, she opened the door and raced for the elevator. She was looking down at the pleasing geometric patterns in the carpet when she heard a woman scream. Her steps came to an abrupt halt, and she looked up. In front of her, there were two boys dressed like it was the mid-fifties. It was so strange. She felt like a kid again, seeing those outfits. And then... to her shock and horror... one boy bit the other one on the neck, ripping out his flesh. She heard a woman's scream again and realized that this time it was her own. Blood sprayed and spilled in the hall. The bitten boy collapsed.

Behind the grisly scene, a giant wolf leapt out of the elevator, turning its red glare upon Darby. She just about fainted on the spot. She saw that the remaining boy and the lupin thing behind him shared the same evil eyes. Both were gazing murder upon her. She turned and fled back to her apartment, not daring to look back. She dug her key out of her purse with a trembling hand and stuck it in the lock. A terrible howl filled the hallway. Darby opened the door, flung herself inside, and slammed the door behind her. She turned the deadbolt and ran to the kitchen telephone. She dialed 911, but the line was dead. She tried again and again, but couldn't get a dial tone.

"What's all the noise?" Brian walked into the kitchen and stretched his arms. He was only wearing his briefs, and they did little to conceal his morning wood. The knobby top of his dick was well above his waistline and bounced a little as he moved.

"Oh... Brian... it was terrible... the hall... the blood... the wolf." Darby dropped the phone and ran to her son, hugging him tightly.
Wolf? Why did that word send a chill down his spine? Brian separated himself from his mother, walked to the door, and opened it a little. He stuck his head out and slowly exhaled. There was no wolf. No blood. Just a normal, empty hall. He ducked back into the apartment and locked the door. "It's fine, Mom. There's nothing there."

"Are you sure?" Darby didn't want to check the hall for herself. She pulled her son into another hug, putting her cheek on his hard, warm chest. "The thing meant us harm. I could tell. The look in its eyes was... evil. It really was there... you have to believe me."

"I believe you, Mom." The strange thing was that he did believe her. He wasn't sure how harm could come to him in this building. Not with Ogganse looking over him. But somehow, he suddenly felt much less safe. He gripped his mother tighter. It was a good thing he had her, because who else would he rather turn to but his mother? He needed her to love him, to reassure him. His hands fell to her ass, and soon they were kissing.

"Mmmmppphhh." Darby's tears dried, but her mascara had already run down her cheeks. As she melted into him, her mind let go of the horror she had witnessed. She made out with her son for a long time, relishing the passion and desire in his touch. She let him undress her, even though he ripped her sweater in his excitement. When they were both naked, he turned her around, and pushed her up against the wall. She felt the solid weight of his thing as he bounced it off her butt cheek. That made her remember the purpose of her failed shopping trip. "Wait... no... no... condom." She pushed him away and headed toward her bedroom. At least her husband's condoms offered some protection. Maybe the next one wouldn't break.

"Forget it, Mom. My dick's too big." Brian tried to push her back against the wall, but she spun away from him. He chased her down the hall. "Forget it."

"Yesterday will be the only time we have unsafe sex, Brian." Darby entered her room, her son hot on her heels.

Brian knew she was wrong. If the day before hadn't happened, he might have let her put a condom on him again, biding his time. But he now knew he had her. She was hooked. It was game over. In her bedroom, he grabbed her around the waist, picked her up, and roughly tossed her on his parents' bed.

"Oof." Darby bounced on her belly awkwardly. "You're so strong." Before she could get up, he was pressing her face down into her husband's side of the bed. "Wait... wait... Brian... we can't." Her voice was muffled by the mattress. He had one hand holding the back of her neck, the other pushed her legs together. Was he planning on taking her in a prone position? That would be another thing she'd never done with Greg. "Condom."

"The building will protect us. But we can't use condoms. Not anymore. Not with you. Not with Sylvie. Not with Rachel." Brian lined up his cock. The shape of her ass and the view of her pussy from that position tugged at the primal parts of his brain.

"With Rachel? What are you...?" Her mind swam as he entered her. She was still sore from the day before, but the pain was brief. "Oooohhhhhhhhhhh." Pleasure surged from deep inside her as he pressed his penis all the way inside and began rutting her.

"Do you still... want that condom... ugh... ugh... ugh... Mom?" Brian wound his finger in her black, silky hair, pulling her head up a little, asserting control over the founding member of his bevy.

"No... no... ugh... ugh... ugh... it's okay... it would only... break... on your big thing... uuuuggghhhhh... anyway." Darby gripped her husband's pillow in both hands. What would Greg say if he found out I used his pillow to brace myself while Brian showed me a new sex position? "Ohhhhh... Brian... you're really hitting deep... ah... ah... ah... from back there. I... um... I... don't care about anything... else... ggaaaaaa... mmmoooooo... arrrrggggg." She had tried to say, Just hump me, Brian. But it seemed her capacity for human speech had left her again. She knew she was screaming the nonsense that came out of her mouth. But it was true, she didn't care about anything. Not even the neighbors. Not even that her daughter was scheduled to show up at the apartment soon. Not even the murder and wolf she'd seen in the hallway.

~~

February 1, 1955: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"Okay... okay... I'll sign... just please... stop debasing my wife." Marcus struggled against Natalie's grip, but the woman was unnaturally strong. He was seated in the corner of his study. A contract for the sale of 3838 Walnut Street was on the side table next to him.

"It's... okay... Marcus... at first I was... ooohhhhhh... worried... but now..." Susan was on all fours on her husband's desk. She was naked, and Elizabeth, who was still dressed, was behind her. The woman's long tongue squirmed deep in Susan's vagina. It was going to make her have another one. She just knew it. "Ooooohhhhh... Marcus... I didn't know... I didn't... aaaaahhhhhhhhh."

"Sign the document." Natalie loosened her grip enough to let him grab the pen. When he tried to stab her with it, she banged his head on the side table. Blood smeared the contract, and her prisoner slumped in his chair, unconscious. The two women at the desk didn't notice the change in Marcus's condition. "Um... mistress... a moment please?" Natalie raised her hand.

With a loud slurp, Elizabeth removed her tongue from Susan's vagina. She looked over at their would-be seller. "Mrs. Creech. Now what are we to do?" She frowned.

Susan's mind cleared as she stared over at her husband. "Marcus? Marcus? Oh, heavens!" She tried to get off the desk, but her legs were too wobbly. She fell to the floor and blubbered her husband's name.

"He'll be fine, Mrs. Wilkins." Elizabeth tucked her skirt under her and dropped to her knees. She pushed Susan onto her back and spread her legs. "Honestly, when I'm done with you, you'll barely remember his name." Elizabeth let her tongue uncoil out of her mouth. It was a good foot long and incredibly dexterous. With a wet squelch, it reentered Susan's crevasse.

"Oh... Marcus... wake up... I... ohhhhhhh..." Susan thrashed on the floor, her breasts bouncing and jiggling from side to side across her chest. "Oooohhhhh... Marcus... she's going to make meeeeeee... eeeeeeiiiiiiiiiii!" Her eyes rolled back, and she was seized by another orgasm.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 14
Brian collects his Bevy.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

December 4, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

Rachel knocked and waited. She looked around the twelfth-floor hallway and shivered. The wallpaper, lamps, and carpet were all clean and tasteful, with pleasing Art Deco patterns. The doors seemed to be original, their details were charming. She wasn't sure why, but the space gave her the creeps. She rang the doorbell and knocked again. "Mom?" She had called her mom that morning to confirm their plans, but had gotten the answering machine. "Mom?" She knocked again.

It was odd letting herself into this apartment. She'd never lived here. But it was her family residence now. And she didn't want to disturb the neighbors by banging on the door all day. She pulled the spare key her mom had given her out of her purse and let herself into the apartment. "Mom?"

"Hello, sweetie." Darby walked quickly to the front door with a manic smile on her face.

"Hey." Rachel looked at her mother with narrowed eyes. Darby had a sheen of sweat on her. Her sweater was torn down the front, showing no bra and plenty of cleavage. She wasn't wearing anything on her lower half, although the hem of the sweater was low enough that Rachel couldn't see if she was wearing short shorts or something. But that would be weird for her mother. Also, as her mother closed the distance between them, she noticed that Darby was waddling, like she'd been riding a horse all day. "Are you exercising again, Mom? You know you always hurt yourself."

Darby's grin widened. "You caught me. I was exercising again. And I sprained my ankle." She hugged her daughter tightly. Brian's wrong. There's no way Rachel will join in. She pushed her daughter away, holding her at arm's length. Darby studied her daughter closely, seeing her in an entirely new light. "Why are you making that face?"

"Honestly, you're stinky, Mom." Rachel waved her hand in front of her nose. "You smell like sweaty balls."

"Rachel! Watch your language." Darby let go of her daughter and sniffed her armpit. "I do smell ripe, sorry." Of course I'm stinky. I've been boning Brian all morning. Oh, my gosh. I probably do smell like sweaty balls! "I'll go take a shower. Make yourself at home, sweetie." Darby quickly waddled back to her bedroom. She closed the door after her. She could hear the shower running in the master bath. She opened the door and steam billowed out. "Brian, remember what I said about running the exhaust fan while taking a shower. This isn't a sauna." She turned on the fan and pulled off her sundered sweater. "I don't suppose you'll mind if I join you?"

"I don't mind, Mom." Brian opened the shower curtain for her. He smiled at his gorgeous mother as she bent to remove her panties. He loved the way her tits hung and giggled when she leaned forward. His dick lurched and began to rise.

"Your sister is here." Darby caught sight of his growing erection. "So, you'll have to keep your hands off me. We can mess around some more tomorrow if you want." She stepped into the steamy shower.

"Sure, Mom. I'll keep my hands to myself." He grabbed a bar of soap and started lathering her. His dick pressed into her wonderfully wide hip.

"I'm serious, pumpkin. No more fooling around today." Darby tried to frown at him, but had trouble fighting the smile on her face. "I can wash myself, thank you."

"Sure, Mom." Brian moved up her torso, hefting her tits as he washed them.

A few minutes later, he had her up against the tiled wall, plowing away at her pussy.

~~

February 27, 1955: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family

"Pass me the salt, dear." Marcus had a bandage on his forehead. He sat at one end of their dining table, his wife at the other.

"You can come and get it." Susan smiled warmly at her husband.

"But... you should bring it here." Marcus frowned at her, trying not to remember what she'd done with that horrible woman.

"No. I think not." Susan shook her head and sipped her cocktail. "You know, it's so freeing to disagree with you."

"Well, I hope you don't make a habit of it." He got up, walked over to the other side of the table, retrieved the salt, and returned to his place. "We need to put that horrible incident behind us. That woman practically robbed us. We should have gone to the authorities." His soup now properly seasoned, he sipped it from a spoon.

"I'd agree but for the photographs. Another set arrived in the mail today," she said.

"You didn't tell me." Marcus's face turned red. "Did you destroy them?"

"Yes, dear." Now, it seemed that Susan only agreed with her husband when she was lying to him.

"I pray we never see that woman again. What if she blackmails us? Now, it's just to keep silent. But she'll eventually want money." Marcus put down his spoon. His hand was shaking too much to properly serve himself.

"I don't think Mrs. Norwood is interested in money. She has her building now, and I think she's happy." Susan chewed on her bottom lip, thinking about how that long tongue felt inside her. Nothing else in her life could compare. "Actually, Mrs. Norwood has invited us to visit. Did you know her assistant, Mrs. Creedy, has been the building's superintendent for some time? Our management company hired her some years ago. She was responsible for adding that artwork to the lobby. Those strange ladies appear to have been running the place even before we sold it to them. Anyway, Mrs. Norwood is adding more carvings to the lobby and would like us to be there for the dedication."

"Not in a million years." Marcus shivered. He tried in vain not to remember the way his wife looked screaming on the end of Elizabeth's vile tongue.

"Well, let me know if you change your mind. The ceremony is on March 8th. I plan to be there." Susan smiled at how silly he looked. Her poor husband was almost turning purple. Is he having some sort of impotent fit? "Of course, I'll spend the night. No sense taking a day trip to the city."

Marcus stood and marched out of the dining room.

Susan shrugged and ate her soup.

~~

December 4, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

The doorbell rang. Rachel put down her book, got up, and went to answer it. "Hello, Mrs. Kim." She was surprised to find her mother's friend waiting in the hall. "Mom's in the shower. Want to come in?"

"Rachel! I didn't expect you to be here today." Sylvie stepped into the apartment. She was beside herself with embarrassment. It had taken all her nerve accepting Brian's invitation. She had thought they would make music together again. But with his sister there, she decided that she must have been mistaken. Her cheeks heated, and she pulled her blouse up a bit, hiding more of the exposed skin on her upper chest.

"I think Mom forgot I was coming, too." Rachel shrugged, trying to hide her disappointment. She thought her visit was supposed to be just family. "That's a fancy outfit. Are you going someplace later today?"

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Rachel. Was someone at the door?" Darby waddled into the entryway. Her hair was still wet, but she was dressed and smiling broadly. "Oh, Sylvie. What are you doing here?"

"Brian invited me." Sylvie grimaced. "This was a mistake. I should leave and -"

A trumpet version of The Cure's Friday, I'm in Love blared from across the apartment.

"Oh, jeez. I didn't know Brian was home." Rachel put her hands to her ears.

Darby rushed to grab her purse. She picked up Rachel's, too. She kissed Sylvie on the cheek. "Good luck!" Darby grabbed her daughter by the hand and led her out of the apartment.

When they were out of the apartment, Rachel felt her mother's hand tighten in hers. The viselike grip nearly cracked her bones. Rachel studied her mother's pale face. "You look terrified, Mom." They walked to the elevator, Darby moving slowly with her unusual, crabby gait. "Why did we leave Mrs. Kim with Brian? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Everything's okay, Rachel." Darby stopped in front of the elevator. There was no giant wolf. There were no 1950s boys murdering each other. Maybe I did imagine it. She looked for blood on the carpet, but didn't see any. "Sylvie wanted to hear Brian play his music. Your brother's music is becoming very popular." The elevator chimed and Darby cringed. But when the doors opened, the car was empty. She sighed with relief. "Come on, I'll treat you to some coffee or something." She pulled Rachel into the elevator.

"You're freaking me out." Rachel didn't know what to think, but she followed her mother into the elevator. They went out for coffee, and Rachel didn't get any concrete answers about what was going on.

~~

April 20, 2015: Apartment 12C, the Marland family.

"I'm home." Carrie was happy to be home. It had been a tiring day volunteering with the church. They had been feeding the homeless. She was sure it was the right thing to do, but still, it exhausted her to no end.

"Hello, Mrs. Marland." Hani appeared, gave Carrie a sheepish smile, and rushed past her out of the apartment. "Goodbye, Mrs. Marland."

"Goodbye." Carrie could smell the sex wafting off the young woman. It smelled different than the intimate time Carrie had with her husband. That smelled heavy of the karma sutra oil they used. But with the eighteen-year-olds, she could smell something tangy and pungent. Carrie's nostrils flared as the door closed. Hani was gone, but her scent lingered. It made Carrie's tummy feel funny. "I really need to put my foot down about Hani," she mumbled to herself. "This is still my apartment. Our apartment. Gabe and I. It's ours and..."

"Hey, Mom. What's up?" Joe strolled into the kitchen like he owned the place.

"Were you having sex with Hani?" Carrie put her hands on her hips and tried to look formidable.

"No." Joe shook his head and smiled. "Can you make me a sandwich?"

Carrie started toward the refrigerator and stopped. He was so charming lately. So charming that she'd almost done exactly what he said. "You're old enough to make your own sandwich." She put her hands back on her hips and looked at him. "I know you're lying about Hani. Are you using the condoms I bought you? I'm too young to be a grandmother."

"We're honestly not having sex. She says I'm too big for her." Joe shrugged. It should have terrified him to say anything about his dick to his mother, but he felt completely at ease.

"You are pretty tall, but I'm not sure..." A vertical line creased her forehead as she lapsed into confusion. "You're only like half a foot taller than her. I mean, if you're not having sex, as your mother, I'm not complaining." She looked over at the picture on the fridge. He had been so innocent. Now, she was talking about illicit things with him. "I'm not complaining, but I don't see how your height..."

"She likes how tall I am, Mom. She's worried about my dick. When we go jogging, you've noticed it bouncing around, right?" Joe went to the fridge and pulled out fixings for a sandwich. "I've got a big one. I was a late bloomer, let me tell you, but now, I wonder..." He closed the fridge and grabbed some bread. "Did you ever have any similar problems with Dad? Maybe you can help me get over the hump with Hani." He laughed at his own joke. "Mom?" Joe turned around. His mother wasn't in the kitchen anymore. He chuckled to himself. I guess that was too much for her. I wonder, is a son talking to his mother about his dick the craziest thing that ever happened in this apartment? He made his sandwich and then happily ate it while taking in the view.

~~

December 4, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family.

"Oh... gosh... oh... gosh..." Sylvie watched her friend's son move toward her down the hall, thrusting his hips and blowing his soul into the trumpet.

Brian danced into the living room. He looked around the room and removed the trumpet from his mouth. "Where's Mom and Rachel?"

"They went out." Sylvie was staring at the head of his knobby penis. He was so turgid down there, and... veiny. She had a hard time believing that she'd actually put that thing in her mouth.

"'Out'?" Brian ran a hand through his black hair. "Lame." He caught her staring and his smile returned. "But you're rad, Mrs. Kim. You dressed up for me! Are you wearing fancy underwear, too?"

Sylvie nodded her head. She wanted to look up and meet his eyes. They were having a conversation after all. But her gaze stopped on his abs, then rolled back down to his penis.

"I've already cum a lot today, so we can skip the blowjob." He laughed when he saw her expression fall. "Don't worry. I'm just saving it up. We're going to fuck today."

"I... I... I..." Sylvie wasn't sure how to address someone so crass.

"But first, we're going to dance. Dance for me, Mrs. Kim." Brian put the trumpet back to his lips. Pretty soon, they were both dancing around the living room.

Sylvie couldn't believe the way she was gyrating her hips, jumping on the sofa, and whipping her hair. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. And she loved it! They carried on for more than a half-hour. When she howled with glee, the teenager suddenly stopped playing.

Brian stared at her with wide eyes. They were both sweating and panting. "Don't make that sound. I don't like it." He looked around the room like something might be stalking him, but it was still just the two of them.

"Oh... I'm sorry... Brian." Sylvie worked hard to catch her breath. The mood had so quickly changed in the room. "I won't... be so loud."

"You can scream, Mrs. Kim. Just... don't howl." He put down the trumpet, leapt across the living room, and lifted her in his arms.

"Ohhhh... how did you jump so far?" She melted into his grasp. "You're so strong." Sylvie was relieved to see the grin back on his face. The mood had shifted again, this time for the better. She let him hold her like a bride. She circled her arms around his neck. "I feel like I'm... on the cover of one of those romance novels. And you're even more handsome... than Fabio." She felt his strong, lithe muscles press against her through her clothes. She wanted to kiss him, but that would be crazy. "If Barry saw me right now, he wouldn't recognize me."

"If you think that now, wait fifteen minutes." Brian laughed and carried her to his room.

Twenty minutes later, Sylvie was on her hands and knees. She was wearing only her lingerie. Her hands clutched the sheet below her. Her body was taut and strained, both because of another orgasm about to boil over, and because she was having a hard time bracing against the teenager's long, heavy strokes. They would have to invent a new word for what they were doing, because this wasn't anything like what her understanding of sex was. "Oooohhhhhhh... my... gggooossssshhhhhhh." When he grabbed her hair and pulled her head so that she was staring at his Nirvana poster, her ecstasy exploded. "Eeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiii," she screamed her head off.

"You're in... my bevy now... Mrs. Kim." Brian gripped a handful of her ass with the hand not holding her hair. He was used to more of a handhold with his mother, but he didn't mind. He liked Sylvie's slimmer body just fine. "It's rad... having variety... in my bevy. I like... uuuggghhhh... fucking you." His body convulsed, and he lost his rhythm for a moment. His hips found their tempo again, only to lose it with another shudder. "Shit... I'm about to... cum in you... Mrs. Kim."

"Ohhhh... goooosssshhhhhhhh," was all Sylvie could reply. Her eyes rolled back. She had come to this apartment today ready to give herself to this freak of nature. And she had done just that. If Barry could see her now, he might not even recognize her as the same species as his wife. "Eeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiii." She felt the heat of the teenager's seed fill her, and her brain shut down. All she could think or feel was white, hot ecstasy.

When Darby and Rachel returned to the apartment several hours later, everything was quiet. "Sylvie must have gone home. I'll check on your brother."

"Are we leaving soon?" Rachel sat in the living room and looked out at the park. It was odd how the gargoyles in this building looked in through the windows. Rachel shivered and focused on the view.

"Yes, Rachel." Darby opened her son's door and peeked in. She gasped and quickly looked down the hall to make sure Rachel wasn't following her. Satisfied that she was alone, she stepped into the room. Brian was lying on his side in bed. Sylvie was splayed out like a rag doll on the floor. They were apparently both asleep. Unlike the last time they'd had Sylvie over, she wasn't covered in sperm. Darby could see between the woman's legs, so she knew that Brian had emptied himself inside her rather than covering her. Sylvie's poor vagina was yawning wide and oozing white stuff. Her once neat triangle of black hair was messy and matted with seed. Darby hoped that the puddle forming under her wouldn't stain the floor. She sighed. Brian had always been such a clean boy. But not anymore. He was too... wild.

If it wasn't for Rachel's presence in the apartment, Darby would have taken Sylvie to the shower. As it was, she woke up her friend and helped her wipe up and get dressed. Sylvie asked hardly any questions. She looked dazed and exceedingly happy.

"I'm going to need you to stay in Brian's room until we leave for dinner. I don't want Rachel to know what happened." Darby sat her friend in Brian's desk chair. "I think he wants to do it to Rachel, and I..." Darby paused. It was difficult to admit what she'd done with her son, even when Sylvie had now done the same thing. "I'm going to wake him up now and get him ready for dinner. Please don't... um... entice Brian. We need to meet Greg at Cho's in a half-hour."

Sylvie nodded. "Do you... um... want me to lock up when I leave?" She checked her watch. She was late meeting her own husband, it seemed.

"Just turn the lock on your way out." Darby tried not to think about Brian's little seeds moving inside Sylvie even as they spoke. If she dwelled on it, she would start gushing again, and they would never get to dinner. She walked over to the bed and shook her son. "Okay, Brian. Time to wake up."

~~

April 28, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

"Where is it? Where is it?" Uba went through her son's hamper, tossing his clothes onto the floor. When it was empty, she crawled on her hands and knees, carefully checking for crusty socks. There were none to be found. Just normal laundry, including sweaty socks. She didn't care about those. It was awkward crawling in her long dress, but she did it anyway, working her way around the room, searching in every corner and crevasse.

After an exhaustive search, she sat on her butt in the middle of her son's messy room. "It's my fault. I told him not to touch it, and he's finally listened to me." Her voice was soft and forlorn in the quiet room. "What do I do?" This was the third day in a row that she hadn't found a used sock. She deeply regretted doing laundry so recently. Slowly, she stood and cleaned Abshir's room. She didn't want him to know that she'd turned it over looking for treasure.

When she was done with the room, she rushed to the bathroom to masturbate. But it wasn't the same without the scent of Abshir's sperm. Her orgasms were meager and flat, even with all the techniques she'd taught herself that month. When she finally gave up on pleasing herself, she pulled up her panties, pulled down her dress, and washed her hands. Her reflection looked on edge.

Later that night, Uba was washing up at the sink after dinner. Her daughter was reading at the table. Her men were somewhere else in the apartment. When Taban came up behind her and took a handful of her butt, she shivered, hoping that her husband's attention would scratch her itch. "I like that, Taban."
"Would you also like to have some special time tonight?" Taban whispered in her ear.

"Yes, please." Uba wiggled her butt at him and nodded fiercely. She turned the sink off, opened the dishwasher, and bent over to load it. "Oh!" She gave a little yelp when her husband slapped her bottom.

"Get a room, you two!" Hani closed her book, got up, and left the room in a huff.

"Sounds like a plan." Taban took his wife's hand and pulled her.

"But the dishes..." Uba didn't know why she was protesting. She desperately wanted Taban to satisfy her. And he was about to do just that.

"You can do them later." Taban dragged her by the hand to their bedroom.

Seven minutes later, Taban was on top of his wife, grunting out his climax.

"Ohhhhh... Taban." Uba was on her back, her hands holding his shoulders. Tears of frustration streamed out of the sides of her eyes, disappearing into her hair.

"Ah... that was... good." Taban lifted himself and looked at his wife's lovely face. "You're crying... huh? I'm that good... I guess."

"Yes... Taban... that was wonderful." She lied. When he rolled off her, she offered to dispose of his condom. In the bathroom, she dripped her husband's semen onto the palm of her hand and held it to her nose. She curled her lip. It wasn't the same as Abshir's. It was worse than a poor substitute. It was an insult to teenage spunk. She quickly disposed of the condom, washed her hands, and freshened up.

Uba went back to the dishes. As she cleaned and ordered the kitchen, her mind burned with thoughts of her son's semen. She moved into the living room to put on some television. But she couldn't concentrate. She sat staring at the screen, thinking about spoiled socks. Her husband went to bed. Her children went to bed. And she sat and sat, trying to decide what to do. She remembered the weight and feel of her son's wrinkly balls. He was so full of life. And then she fixated on the heft of his penis, the bumpy protuberance of his veins on her fingertips. She should never have given him those sex lessons. But she didn't know at the time that she would turn into an addict. She didn't know that those touches would haunt her.

It was late when she stood, turned off the TV, and switched off the lights. She adjusted her glasses. It was still light in the room, New York was right outside the window. She walked down the hall, intending to ready herself for bed. But she surprised herself when she passed her room. Her mind still drowning in thirst for sperm, she opened her son's door, slipped into his room, and closed the door behind her.

She opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, fished out a clean sock, and walked to his bed. She shook her son awake.

"Mom?" Abshire tried not to smile as she pulled him out of his dreams. This was what he'd been waiting for. And it had only taken three days. "You want my dick?"

"What? No!" Uba frowned down at him. "I brought you a sock. You can touch yourself." She tossed the sock onto his blanket above his chest.

"You said I wasn't supposed to touch myself." Abshir grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and put them on.

"I was wrong." She folded her arms.

"I haven't fapped for several days." He sat up, keeping the blanket on his lap.

"If 'fapped' means what I think it means, I know you haven't." Uba rolled her eyes. She was trying to play it cool, but her hands were trembling. "I'll leave now, so you can touch yourself."

"How do you know I haven't fapped?" Abshir couldn't hold back his grin. She was so wonderfully transparent. He hadn't forgotten how she'd violently rebuffed him. For revenge, he was going to make her squirm. She would be begging him before it was over.

"I... um... a mother just knows these things." Uba started toward the door and stopped. "I read some more books on healthy teenagers. And you need to touch yourself, Abshir. I'm sorry, I was wrong about it before."

"No, I think you were right. I felt great these past few days," he said. "Haven't you noticed my attitude?"

"No." This wasn't true. She had noticed he'd been more chipper and helpful lately. "You're eighteen. It's healthy for young men to... um... ejaculate. The books said you'll get backed up if you don't."

"Which books?"

"Books I... um... read in the library." Uba gave an exasperated sigh. Am I really arguing that he masturbate when he actually likes abstinence? What kind of mother am I?

"If you want to give me some more sex education, you can touch it." Abshir pulled down the blanket. His cock was barely constrained by his underwear.

Uba gasped. She took a step toward him then two steps back. "No... no... just... touch yourself." She turned for the door.

"Wait, Mom." Abshir pulled down his underwear, pressed his dick into his belly, and lifted his balls for her to see. "I think you need to inspect them again."

"No... Abshir... we already did that. They're healthy." While holding the door handle, she looked over her shoulder. She wasn't weak enough to touch him again. She only needed another sock. That was all. "You can look at pornography while you unload yourself if you want. You have my permission. Goodnight." Uba raced out of the room before she did something really stupid.

Before bed, she masturbated furiously in her bathroom. But, again, it fell flat. Where before, she had climbed mighty peaks, now, her orgasms were more like boring, rolling hills.

Tense and frustrated, she finally slipped into bed next to her husband. It took Uba a long time to fall asleep.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 15
Rosalin makes her escape.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

December 13, 1993: Apartment 9B: Diary of Rosalin Eklund.

This is it. I've held out as long as I can. The phone doesn't work. I can't jump. The food is all gone. If I wait any longer, I'll weaken, and leaving will get even harder. I'm going to have to try for the front door.

Brian already knocked on my door today, so I doubt I'll run into him. Elizabeth hasn't made her daily visit yet, but it's getting late, and I can't wait for her to come and leave. There are days where she doesn't knock at all. Maybe this is one of those days. I certainly want to avoid using my pistol. But that woman is clearly the cult leader. If she comes at me, I WILL put her in the ground.

Mr. Glaeser, if I don't get out and you find this diary, I'm sorry I failed. I tried. I wish you had come to check up on me.

~~

December 13, 1993: Apartment 12C: Rosalin Eklund.

Rosalin wrapped her diary in plastic and carefully placed it in the hidden nook she'd created in the bathroom. She replaced the loose tile in front of the nook, wondering if someone would find it someday.

She needed to prepare herself. Rosalin put on her jeans, socks, and boots. It was odd leaving her wardrobe behind. She ran her fingers over her dresses until she came to her tops. She selected a plaid, long-sleeved shirt, and pulled it on. She buttoned it to the top, strapped on her shoulder holster, and checked over her Smith & Wesson.38. When she was satisfied that it was ready, she secured it in her holster and slung on a black, leather jacket. She thought about taking a bag with her, but she didn't know what sort of running she would be in for. Instead, she packed a pocket knife, the contents of her wallet, and extra ammo into her pockets. She then put her hair up and took several deep breaths.

Not for the first time, she thought about setting fire to her apartment. It would have been a splendid distraction. But she couldn't sacrifice the innocents in the building.

Rosalin went to the front door and unlocked it for the first time in weeks. She tried to steady her trembling hands. "I'll be on a New York street in five minutes. I can do this." Wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she steadied her nerves and slowed her pulse. "Okay." She grabbed the knob and swung the door open.

The hall was quiet. Nothing seemed sinister. The carpet, wallpaper, and warm sconces were all just as she remembered, replete with Deco charm. She took no more than a dozen steps before the elevator chimed. Rosalin could barely hear it over the pulse thundering in her ears. She stopped. A pale woman with raven hair exited the elevator and strode down the hall. Rosalin froze like a deer in the headlights. She had never seen Elizabeth before. But she was certain about the identity of the woman approaching. Elizabeth wore a vintage 1930s dress, that did little to conceal her overly-curvaceous figure. Her feet were bare. She wore no makeup or jewelry.

Rosalin's right hand crept under her leather jacket.

"Thank the Goddess you have finally come out of that stuffy apartment." Elizabeth smiled warmly and stopped fifteen feet away, opening her arms wide in welcome. "Brian has been waiting and waiting for you. Mrs. Kim has kept him busy, but I know you will have an honored place in his bevy. We'll get it right this time. I'm sure of it."

"You're Elizabeth Norwood. You're the ringleader." Inside her jacket, Rosalin slowly unsnapped her holster and rested her hand on the handle of her pistol. It was a reassuring feeling. "Get the fuck away from me, lady."

"Yes, I am Elizabeth. Voice to a goddess. And you and I will be very good friends." Elizabeth took a step closer to Rosalin. "We're going to unleash the wild, reversing centuries of destruction and sacrilege. We're going to get it right this -"

Rosalin drew her pistol and shot Elizabeth in the forehead, cutting the woman off mid-sentence. The gunshot was deafening in the narrow hall, making Rosalin's ears ring.

Blood spurted as Elizabeth's head snapped back, and she toppled backward to the carpet.

Revolver still in her hand, Rosalin was moving again. She thought about putting another bullet in the ringleader, but Elizabeth was clearly dead, and Rosalin might need to save her bullets. She passed by the corpse, opened the door to the stairs, and quickly descended.

Not a good start. But I'm moving down. This is the closest to freedom I've been in weeks. On the bright side, New York has one less scumbag. This is going to be a messy investigation for the police. Maybe they'll find the Olmsteads. She flew down flights of stairs, putting her gun back into its holster. It wouldn't do to step into the lobby brandishing a weapon. I would bet anything the Olmstead remains are in the basement. The police are going to tear this building apart when they... Rosalin slowed to a stop and looked at the door to the floor she was passing. It was labelled twelve.

"I've been going down." She rubbed her sweaty forehead with her palm. "Haven't I?" She leaned against the wall, suddenly woozy.

After pulling herself back together, she descended again. Soon her legs were flying, her boot falls echoing around her. She passed floor after floor, counting them as she went. She passed her own ninth floor where the dead woman was surely lying in the hall. Rosalin continued down: eight, seven, six, five, four. Confusion hit her again. She slowed to a stop. Instead of the sign for three, there was twelve again. Panting and sweating through her clothes, she stared at the impossibly wrong number.

She opened the door and peered out. The doors on the floor were all marked with a twelve. She could see 12C, Brian's apartment. "I don't... understand." She closed the door and headed down the stairs, more slowly this time.

Rosalin stopped on the ninth floor and opened the door. There was a pool of blood soaking into the carpet where she'd shot Elizabeth. But the body was gone.

It would have been possible for Rosalin to retreat back to her apartment, but she didn't want to starve to death. Better to shoot my way out. She patted her holster and continued down toward the lobby.

The stairwell grew warmer and warmer as Rosalin passed floors five and four. By the time she found herself on the twelfth floor again, it felt like a humid, summer day. As she passed the eleventh floor again, she noticed that her boots weren't ringing out with each step. Looking down, Rosalin found the stairs had somehow become covered in lichen and moss. "What the... fuck?" When she bent to examine the stuff, she saw small ferns growing up around the edges of several steps.

A howl ripped through the air, echoing down from above. Rosalin continued her never-ending descent as quickly as she could, but she was huffing and puffing and her legs were starting to feel like lead. Another howl echoed, this time closer.

There was barely time to register that a wolf was chasing her in a New York building. But the notion did sink in.

When she came to the next landing, she nearly tripped over the skeleton of a large stag. It lay on its side, its massive antlers nearly blocking her path. She stepped on its bones, cracking several of the thing's ribs, and continued downward.

Soon, she could hear panting from the perusing wolf. When it howled again, it was earsplitting. Somehow there were leafy branches in her way and large stones on the stairs. She had to bend and twist to get past the foliage. "I would have brought a machete if I'd known." She didn't smile or laugh. It was hard to find the humor in her own words when she was sure she was going insane.

Not wanting to meet the wolf, Rosalin excited onto the fourth floor. The hall was cool and unmistakably jungle-free. It was such a strange juxtaposition that she wobbled on her feet and had to brace herself against the wall. There was one other way down, so she hit the elevator call button and looked for something to push against the door, finding nothing. She didn't know if wolves could open doors, so she held the handle until the elevator arrived.

The car was empty. She entered and pressed the button for the lobby. Nothing lupine burst from the stairwell while she nervously waited for the elevator doors to close. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was descending again, watching the dial fall from four, to three, to two, and then the doors opened. She stared with wide eyes. It wasn't the lobby. "Of course it's not the lobby." She could see the door to apartment 12A across the hall from the elevator. She looked up at the dial again. It pointed to twelve.

Not one to give up, Rosalin hit the button for the lobby again. The doors closed, and she descended. When she looked up at the dial, it was overgrown with vines and fixed on twelve, even though she could feel herself descending. The air grew warmer, and she saw that a forest floor had grown up through the carpet around her boots.

"She hit me with drugs before I shot her. I'm hallucinating." When the elevator chimed and the doors opened, she was on twelve again.

Rosalin took the only option remaining. She walked out of the elevator, into the hall, and headed for 12C. As she passed the door to the stairs, there was a loud boom, and it rattled on its hinges. Behind the door, she could hear a feral growl. With another bang, the door shook again. On trembling, fatigued legs, she ran to Brian's door and rang the bell. She beat Brian's door with her fist. She rang the bell again. A muffled howl came from behind the stairway door.

The door to 12C opened, and Darby stood in front of Rosalin, giving her a look of surprise. "Ms. Eklund? What are you -?" The stairway door burst open, spilling a massive, snarling wolf into the hall. Darby's eyes widened, her face paled, and she peered at the thing. "Oh no... it's back. Quickly..." She grabbed Rosalin's leather jacket, pulled her into the apartment, and slammed the door, turning the deadbolt. "I've seen that beast before. Were the boys back, too? Did you see the murdering boys from the 1950s?" Darby led her into the living room.

Rosalin shook her head. Did I hear her right?

"Let me get this jacket off you. You're all red and sweaty." Darby pulled off Rosalin's jacket and hung it in the hall closet. She fetched a glass of cold water and helped Rosalin find a seat on the sofa. Darby sat on an armchair. "You can stay here as long as you like. I know it's scary out there with that beast. Goodness, I'm still shaking." She held out her hand for Rosalin to see her trembling fingers. "I had almost convinced myself I'd imagined it last time. But you saw it, too, right?"

Rosalin nodded.

"Brian's napping right now. He was very enthusiastic this morning and wore himself out. You wouldn't believe his energy when he gets going." A strained smile parted Darby's pink lips. "He'll be so happy that you're here."

"Thank you... for taking me in." Rosalin sipped the cold water. It tasted wonderful. It would have been polite to smile, but she couldn't seem to remember how to move those muscles. She was finally starting to catch her breath. The roaring pulse in her ears, and the ringing from the gunshot, faded. She strained to hear if the wolf was outside their door, but all was silent from the hall.

"Yes, of course. You're very regal looking, if you don't mind my saying so. Very pretty. I can see why Brian wants you." Darby's face relaxed. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not jealous. Not anymore." She eyed Rosalin's outfit. "I hear plaid is in right now. Would you... like to remove your gun? It looks very uncomfortable."

"I'll keep it on. At least... until I know we're safe," Rosalin said.

"Suit yourself." Daby nodded, and started making all sorts of small talk with her guest. She didn't mind the lack of engagement on Rosalin's end.

Rosalin let her weight sink into the sofa. As her perspiration dried, she sipped the water and tried to figure out how Elizabeth had given her drugs. Outside the window, New York teemed with life. The vast city was so close that she could hear the muffled honking of traffic through the windows. No matter how close New York was, her outside life had never been further away.

~~

May 1, 2015: Apartment 12C, the Marland family.

"It's a pleasant day." Carrie jogged next to her son in the park. The sun was just coming up, filtering through the buildings to the east. The birds were chirping, enthusiastic about spring.

"Yeah, it's nice." Joe was enjoying spending time with his mother. Lately, she'd seemed very unsure of herself around him. He frowned at the thought. "You know... I'm sorry I teased you about the condoms."

"Oh... I..." Carrie glanced at his crotch. She could see his large penis under the fabric of his shorts, rising and falling with his bounding steps. She hadn't noticed it before he'd mentioned his size, but now that it was in her brain, she caught herself constantly glancing its way.

"I've just been feeling so... easy about everything. And you were giving me a hard time about Hani." Joe didn't notice her gaze. He was busy taking in the flowers all around them. "I just reacted by... having you do something for me and Hani. You know? I was sort of messing with you about the condoms. I'm sorry." He turned his head to smile at her.

Carrie quickly looked away from his crotch. She gave him a nervous smile in return. "You never used to tease me, Joey." She knew he had slowed his jog to go easier on his mother, and she was grateful. She wasn't all that winded at the moment, only working up a light sweat.

"I'm changing. I guess... I'm getting used to myself." He shrugged. "I promise not to tease you like that again. And I know you're trying not to pester me about Hani. We're getting along pretty well, right?"

"Yeah... Joey." Carrie nodded. "So... you're really not having sex with her? Just... that other stuff." She shuddered, remembering the sight of that dark vagina with the bright, pink interior. The way she sprayed was so odd.

"I'm still too big for her." Joe chuckled. This was the first they'd talked about his size problem since she'd ran out on him the last time he'd brought it up. At least now, she couldn't run away from him. Any direction she went in the park, he could easily chase her down. The thought excited him to no end. But she didn't bolt.

"Well... I hope you're respecting her wishes. Don't pressure her." Carrie wasn't sure what the right thing to do was. She couldn't easily talk to the other church ladies about her son's abnormally large penis. "I know young men... can sometimes lose sight that their girlfriends are more than... an alluring body."

"Don't sweat it, Mom. I wouldn't pressure her. We do enough other stuff to keep me happy." Joe laughed. "Also, I like her devious mind... not just her body."

Carrie didn't join in the laughter. She gave him a worried look instead. "Okay."

"Anyway, Hani wouldn't put up with any B.S. It's one of the things I love about her." He turned his gaze back to the flowers as they looped around, starting back toward their apartment.

Carrie gulped. He loves Hani? So many different emotions hit her that she didn't know what to think. She stayed quiet and listened as her son talk about how happy he was with his girlfriend.

~~

May 1, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

"Why isn't Abshir dressed?" Hani frowned at her brother, who was wearing a t-shirt, sweatpants, and no socks.

Abshir stuck out his tongue at his sister. He sat at the kitchen table, drinking juice.

"Your brother's sick today." Uba stood by the sink with her arms crossed, frowning at her children.

"No, he's not. Look at him." Hani adjusted her glasses and made a show of staring at her brother. She glanced at her mother. "Why aren't you wearing your hijab? Don't you have work this morning?"

"I called in sick today. I have to keep an eye on him." Uba sighed.

"He's eighteen, he can stay home by himself. And he shouldn't..." Hani glanced at the clock on the microwave. "I'm late. You better not just play video games all day," she said to her brother. "I can't believe Mom is letting you get away with this." She pointed a finger at her mother. "I can't believe you're letting him get away with this." Hani picked up her backpack, turned, and quickly left the apartment.

Ahem... ahem..." Abshir held his arm to his mouth and let out a series of profoundly fake coughs. "I'm so sick."

Uba shook her head slowly.

"So, what's this really about, Mom? You want my..." Abshir's voice trailed off. I'm not supposed to push her. I'll let her walk herself right into this trap. His body gave a sudden start. For a moment, he thought about what he was doing with crystal clarity. This isn't right. What am I doing? His muscles tensed. His mother and father had promised themselves to each other for eternity. He was fraying the line that connected them. After a few seconds of panic, his mind wandered back into the wild. His muscles relaxed. This is how it's supposed to be. She's my mother. What better person to found my bevy.

Uba was so busy trying to decide what to say, she didn't notice the rapid changes on her son's face. She chewed on her bottom lip and looked out the window at the park. "I want you to be healthy. The books said you need to pump your stuff." That was a lie. She hadn't read any such books. To lie is a sin. Sins will lead the incautious woman to more sins. I have to be careful. "You haven't been touching yourself, even after what I told you last time." She walked out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into her son's room.

"How do you know?" Abshir got up and followed her, stopping in his doorway.

"I do your laundry, sweetie. Mothers always know these things." She went to his dresser, picked out one of his athletic socks, and held it up for him to see. "This is important. Normally, I wouldn't have you miss school just to... touch yourself."

Abshir snickered.

"But... you really need to unburden yourself." She put the sock down on his desk. "You have my permission to watch pornography while you do it. I'll come and get the sock for cleaning when you're done." Uba walked toward the door, but stopped when her son didn't move out of the way.

"I feel really good about not touching myself, Mom. Getting a day off from school doesn't matter." He adjusted his glasses. Seeing the distress and craving written on her pretty face was delightful. Ogganse had been correct about everything. "I won't do it."

"Abshir..." Uba pushed her glasses up her nose, pressed her lips into a thin line, and rubbed her legs together. She was so close to paradise, and he was being obstinate. "... just do what I tell you. It's for your own good."

"I won't fap, Mom." His face softened. "Maybe if you show me those books you read... maybe then I'd be convinced. But I think you were right about it in the beginning. Abstinence is the best. You did great with the sex education you gave me."

"I was wrong." She wrung her hands together.

"I'm going to show you something. Please, don't hit me with something heavy, Mom." Abshir lowered his sweatpants. He wasn't wearing underwear. His dick was soft, ponderously dangling between his legs. "Look at how healthy my dick looks. I don't know if you remember it before, but the skin at the top was red and chaffed from all the fapping I was doing. Now... it's all perfectly brown." He stepped out of his sweat pants and placed his hands under his cock, holding it up to her like he was serving it on a platter. "I think I'm going to wait until my wedding day to cum again."
"No... that's..." Goosebumps rose along Uba's arms, and a chill went down her spine. She shook with a sudden, violent shiver. And then another one. Her heart was thumping heavily in her chest. She composed herself, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "No... that would be really bad. I'm sure a man can't just hold it that long." Her lies aside, this had actually become a real health emergency. "I know what to do." Her husband would always get riled up at the sight of women's breasts. Her son couldn't be all that different. I'll get his juices flowing, then I'll leave him with his sock.

"What are you doing?" Abshir shook his head. He watched her sit at his desk, get his computer going, and open a web browser. He walked over to see her type into the search bar: attractive women breasts naked. She clicked on the image tab.

"Oh... my..." Uba stared at all the different breasts. She had rarely seen any that weren't her own, and now there were multitudes in all colors, shapes, and sizes. The sight added to her building horny confusion. Slowly she stood. "Okay, I'm going to leave you with your sock. Let me know when you're finished." Quickly, she ran from his room and closed the door.

Uba gave her son his privacy. She had expected him to come out after five minutes and tell her he'd done the deed. Her heart raced at the thought of taking his sock to the bathroom. But five minutes came and went, and he didn't appear.

She paced in the kitchen, trying to work out some of her nervous energy. Ten minutes came and went, and he didn't appear.

Years of marriage had taught her that men didn't last that long, but still, he didn't leave his room. Uba paced faster, trying not to imagine what her young man looked like with his hands on his penis. It was very hard not to picture his blissful expression when he found his release.

By the time a half-hour had rolled around, her panties were soaked. She went to her bedroom, changed them, and then knocked on her son's door. "Abshir?"

"Come in, Mom." Uba opened his door and entered the room. She found him at his desk playing a video game. "You were supposed to tell me when you finished. I was going to clean your sock for..." A frown spread on her face when she saw the clean sock still sitting on his desk.

"I told you. I'm done with all that, Mom. Abstinence is best." He didn't look away from the game. "It will take more than some internet tits to knock me off the wagon."

"Don't use that word. Call them breasts." Uba's heart fell into an abyss. Why did I have to be so convincing with my sex talk?!? Desperation sent icy chills down her spine. She took a deep breath, watching him play his violent spaceship game. "Did you try watching a pornographic video? That would probably be... more stimulating than a picture." She looked down at his lap. He still wasn't wearing pants. His slumbering penis rested on his thigh. Did I ruin his sex drive so thoroughly? Can he even get hard now? "Gosh... I should teach abstinence classes."

"But you don't believe in abstinence anymore," Abshir said.

"No... I don't." Uba had thought she'd be masturbating with his sock by now. Instead, she was standing in his room tense and powerless, watching him play his stupid video game. "What... um... what will it take to get you to unburden your testicles?"

Abshir paused his game and swiveled his chair toward her. "I have hardly seen any tits in real life."

Uba let out a sibilant breath, putting a hand to her chest. "I'm your mother."

"My hot mother," he corrected. Words about bevies and taking the apartment from his father moved to the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them.

"I'm not... hot. I've had two children. You'll be disappointed." She shook her head slowly. "Also... if I'm one of the first to show you my breasts... that can't be good for you psychologically. How could I do that to you?"

"I'm eighteen. It won't screw me up. I think I know what I want." He licked his lips, making a point of staring at the wonderfully sloping front of her dress. "And I want tits. Wait." He held up an apologetic finger. "I want breasts."

"If I show them to you, you'll touch yourself after?" Uba didn't ask for him to look her in the eye. She had already conceded this battle. Now, they were only working out the terms. It was odd, his glasses seemed to flicker with a red light from somewhere in the room. She was too caught up in what was about to happen to wonder what that was about.

"If you show me your tits, I'll only fap while I'm looking at them. Otherwise, I really think abstinence is best."

"I can't believe I'm going to do this." Uba trembled as she gripped her dress and slowly pulled it up. "But... you're my only son... and your health is what's important." Right before the dress went up over her eyes, she saw her son's penis lurch, practically jumping in his lap like a fish out of water. Her stomach turned cartwheels, her mouth went dry, and her vagina continued to gush. She folded her dress and put it on his desk next to the all-important sock.

"All the way, Mom." Abshir dropped a hand to his dick, slowly playing with the foreskin as it was pulled back by the expansion of his cock.

"Yes... I know." Uba couldn't look at him. It was so strange to have him touching himself in front of her. She felt like she was living someone else's life. Her bra came off next. For a few seconds, she covered her breasts with her arm. Then, still looking to the side, she bared herself to him. Uba stood in her son's room, wearing only her panties and socks, praying that he would finish soon so she could take her prize to the bathroom and find paradise.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 16
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

June 17, 1940: Apartment 14D, the Blevin family.

Elizabeth knocked on the door. She stood in the fourteenth-floor hall with Natalie and Nancy. The three of them had spent a morning of orgasmic bliss in front of the Hungarian Lady. But now, they were washed, scrubbed, and outfitted in newly laundered dresses. While all three ladies had minds that were changed by recent events, only Elizabeth's body had filled out to better match the form of the statue in her possession. Natalie had to take some of Elizabeth's dresses to the tailor. Others were not as adjustable, so she procured new outfits for her mistress. Elizabeth was wearing one now, a stylish, knee-length number that glittered as she moved. She knocked again. When a dog started barking on the other side of the door, Elizabeth curled her lip in revulsion.

"Quiet Mitz!" Nora Blevin hustled to the door, grabbed her poodle by the collar, and peered through the peephole. She saw her neighbors. "Now behave yourself, Mitzy!"

Mitz continued to bark as ferociously as he could at the door. When his mistress opened it, he switched immediately to low, threatening growls.

"Hello, Mrs. Norwood, Mrs. Creneling, and..." Nora recognized the third lady from the building but didn't know her name. She nodded to her and smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"May we come in?" Elizabeth tried to smile sweetly, but the dog was grating on her. She glanced down at the small, white thing. It had the temerity to bare its teeth at her! "And can you put Mitz somewhere out of the way?" She knew Nora and her husband had moved to New York after their children had grown and moved out. How odd that spawn of a wolf would be so easily able to replace human children.

"What is this regarding?" Nora looked the ladies over. They certainly did look respectable.

"Just a neighborly visit." Nancy smiled sweetly. "We'd like to discuss some issues with the building, expanding your mind, and... um..." She placed a hand on her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise. She had almost said something very untoward.

Natalie let out a nervous laugh. "I'm Mrs. Creech from the first floor." She gave the older woman a curtsy. "Mrs. Creneling is always such a kidder." She laughed again. "We won't take more than five minutes of your time."

Nora sighed. "I'll put Mitz away." She dragged the still-growling dog toward the guest room. "I'm sorry he's being disagreeable. He's usually so friendly." When she got the dog put away, Nora suddenly felt quite vulnerable. She told herself she was being silly. What was Mitz going to protect her from? Some silly ladies from the building? She smoothed out her dress and returned to let her guests into the apartment. She found they had invited themselves in. They were all standing in the living room with unnatural smiles on their faces. And for a moment, she could have sworn that their eyes flickered red in unison. Nora blinked, and the crimson light was gone. "So, what can I do for you ladies?"

"Is your husband home, Mrs. Blevin?" Elizabeth turned her attention to a small curio filled with knickknacks. They're collectors, too.

"No, he's out for the day. Do you need to speak with him?" Nora frowned.

"Eventually. But you'll do for now." Elizabeth turned toward Nancy, seized her in her arms, and kissed her deeply.

"Oh... my gosh! What are you doing?!?" Poor Nora was nearly beside herself. She'd never witnessed anything like what she was seeing. She stared in horror as the two women danced their tongues together. Both of them married, no less.

Behind Nora, Mitz barked savagely and scratched at the guest room door. But the small dog could not get out to help his mistress.

~~

May 1, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

"I feel like... some other woman... in some other apartment... with some other man." Uba watched her son pleasure himself. Her eyes narrowed as she studied his two-handed technique. She had only seen her husband touch himself a handful of times. And he had never used two hands. Because he couldn't fit two hands like Abshir is doing. This apple fell far from the tree here.

"Less talk... more tits... Mom." Abshir grinned and pumped his cock harder.

"Don't speak to me like that." She shook her head. He had become so unruly. Mothering Abshir was now more like trying to control a hurricane or a tornado.

"Please... uuugghhhh... be quiet... and shake your breasts." Abshir tried not to laugh at her confused expression. "Move your... shoulders side to side."

"Okay, I'll do that for you." Uba felt ridiculous standing in front of him in only her socks and panties, shimmying her shoulders. The movement made her glasses slip. She pushed them back up her nose and glanced away from his veiny monstrosity. The sock was still lying on his desk. "You've been going for more than ten minutes. You must be ready to unload your burden. Shouldn't you use the sock now?"

"I'm not... that close."

"Well... um... that's hard to believe." Uba gazed back at the penis with its fat, mushroom-shaped head. The thing looked like it had been designed for mating. It was so long that it was sure to bump up against the cervix. And the head was shaped in such a way as to serve as a plug inside the woman, keeping the seed where it was supposed to be. She shivered violently, which made her boobs shake even more. She could see by the look on his face that this delighted her son. She frowned. "You must be close. How can you keep going?"

"Maybe if... you play with your... uuugghhhh... tits?" He winked at her.

"Out of the question." Uba's frown deepened. She stopped shaking her shoulders.

"You have... fat nipples... Mom. Are they sensitive?" Abshir took a quick break to squeeze some more lotion onto his dick. Then his hands went back to their long pumping motion, his top hand tightening around the sensitive spot just below the head on each upstroke.

"I fed you with these. Show some respect." She felt like folding her arms over her breasts, but she wanted to get this over with. And hopefully, her boobs were helping. "Use the sock, Abshir." What will I do if he doesn't use the sock and spills everywhere?

"I'll... uuuggghhh... use it when I finish." Abshir stared at her tits. He had sucked on those nipples years and years ago. And someday, she would birth a goddess who would drink from that same fountain. "Damn... Mom... you're hot." The sound of lotion squelching in his hands filled the room.

Uba was quiet for a while, listening to the wetness of his masturbation and the deep grunts of his happiness. She tried valiantly to control the way her body responded to him. But despite her best efforts, her pulse raced, her palms sweat, her belly fluttered with butterflies, and her vagina gushed. Time passed, and still, he didn't climax. Uba was beyond flustered. Finally, she spoke. "Okay... how do I... um... play with my breasts?"

"Uuughhh... shit... that's a good... Mommy." Abshir laughed.

"Please behave, Abshir. This is hard enough without that sort of nonsense." Uba took a deep breath. "What do you need me to do so that you can finish?"

"Heft your... tits." His smile was broad and lazy. "No... not like that. Show me... uuughhh... how heavy they are. Slower... yeah... like that. Damn... Mom... best sick day... ever."

Uba felt like a fool feeling herself up, but she needed to feed his horny, teenage mind. "Why do you like them so much? I'm not what I once was."

"You look... like a goddess. I like hanging tits... it's like they were made... for milk." Abshir was finally getting close. "Pinch... and roll... your nipples."

"Okay." Uba did as he asked. Her frown disappeared, the creases on her forehead eased, and her mouth hung open. "Ohhhhhh... my." Her husband hadn't given her breasts much attention in the last decade or more. And she hadn't either. Even with her newfound zest for masturbation, she had focused almost exclusively on her vagina. But her nipples seemed happy for the attention. She arched her back as pleasure surged through her. "Ooooohhhhh... I'm rolling them... for you... Abshir."

"Damn... Mom." Abshir grabbed the sock and pulled it over his dick. Seeing the ecstasy on her face was too much. His hands were almost a blur as he finished himself off. "I'm cumming... aaaaaahhhhhhhh... cumming..."

Uba let go of her breasts, her focus heightened by the promise of his seed. Avidly, she watched him spasm and moan, his hips bucking as he climaxed. She could see dark saturation spread on the sock. A little at the top at first, then spreading quickly on the cotton material. "Good... good... let it all out." Uba rubbed her hands together. "It's healthy for an eighteen-year-old to orgasm. You're doing great."

"Bevy... bevy... aaaaaahhhhhhhh." With a final shudder, Abshir closed his eyes and let his mind drift in bliss.

"Okay... I'll take this to the wash." Uba didn't even wait for his aftershocks to subside before pushing his hands away and pulling the sock off his penis. As she inhaled, her eyes rolled back. The overripe, fruity scent of fresh, teenage sperm was overwhelming. "Must... wash..." She stumbled to the door.

"Bye... Mom." Abshir dreamily opened his eyes and watched her panty-clad butt jiggle as she left. His eyes also caught some wonderfully dancing sideboob as she turned down the hall.

Ten minutes later, Abshir gripped his dick again. He was still sitting on his desk chair, and he could hear his mother trying to stifle her moans in the bathroom. There was also the sound of her deep huffing breaths, breathing in the aroma of his cum like an addict. He could smell his own sock all the way from his room. The air was also redolent of his mother's excitement. The scent of her sweat and cum wafted through the apartment. Next time, I'll make her let me watch this part. He was smitten by the way her face had looked when she'd rolled her nipples. He wondered what her expression would look like when she diddled her clit.

~~

June 17, 1940: Apartment 14D, the Blevin family.

"Oooohhhhhhh... Mrs. Norwood... what are you doing... in there?" Nora was naked on the floor of her living room, lying on her back.

Natalie pinned one of her hands to the floor. Nancy pinned the other.

Elizabeth was on her knees, her alabaster ass up in the air. She was between Nora's legs, and her tongue was deep inside the woman's vagina.

Mitz frantically scratched at the guest room door, trying to free himself to save his mistress.

"I can feel it... worming its way... at the back of my... ooooohhhhhhhhh." Nora's eyes rolled back, her feet lifted high into the air, and her body shook. Her tongue is so thick, long, and adroit! I never imagined that... It was impossible to finish the thought, because her brain was overrun with pleasure.

After Nora's fifth orgasm, Elizabeth retracted her tongue and sat up. "You can let go of her now." She glanced at Natalie and Nancy. "Fetch me a towel for my face." She ran a finger from her forehead down the bridge of her nose. She was covered in the sticky product of Nora's ecstasy. As her assistants rushed off, she returned her focus to Nora. The woman was still on her back, her legs splayed. Occasionally, she would shudder and convulse within the widening gyre of her rapture. "I'm going to need this whole floor, it seems. You and your husband will grant me access to your apartment at all times. Are we copesetic?"

"Grrrrrrr... aaaattttteeee..." Nora tried to focus on the woman, but the world swam around her.

"I think I'll have you over this afternoon to meet the Hungarian Lady." Elizabeth stood when her assistants returned. She took the proffered towel from Natalie and wiped her face.

Mitz howled in the guest room.

"You'll need to get rid of that hound, Mrs. Blevin. I can't stand that noise." Elizabeth cringed.

"No... more... doggie." Nora slowly nodded her head and tried to sit up.

"Get her dressed, Mrs. Creech and Creneling." Elizabeth went to retrieve her own dress, which Natalie had carefully folded for her and placed over the back of a chair. "She's coming back to 14B with us today."

"Yes, mistress," Natalie and Nancy said in unison. They helped Nora to her feet and began putting her clothes back on her.

~~

December 13, 1993: Apartment 12C: Rosalin Eklund.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Eklund, I don't think I feel comfortable going to your apartment right now. We both saw the wolf and..." Darby's face drained of color as she remembered the hungry way the beast had looked at her.

"Well, I don't think we have much time. The police are sure to be all over this building soon enough and..." Relief spread through Rosalin at the thought. I don't need to collect my things. The police will be here. They'll question everyone about Elizabeth's murder. They'll come to this apartment, and I can leave with them. I don't care if they take me away in handcuffs. "Never mind. It can wait." She sipped the coffee Darby had provided and tried to smile.

"Are you sure you won't take that gun off now? I'm not sure how I feel about having one in the apartment." Darby knew how she felt. She didn't like it.

"If that wolf comes back, you'll be thankful I have it." Rosalin frowned. Was there really an apex predator roaming the stairwell of 3838? How much of what had happened that day had been drug-induced hallucination? How much had been real?

"I suppose, but I..." Darby grew quiet when she heard her son's door squeak open. "Brian's awake." Her whisper was full of excitement, like a groupie that had just spotted her favorite band's lead singer.

"Mom?" Brian walked into the living room wearing only baggy shorts. He was yawning and scratching his scalp when he spotted Rosalin. His face immediately lit up. "You're here! That's rad! Ogganse said that... I didn't really think..." He grinned ear to ear. "So, you finally left your apartment."

"I was starving, Brian. I had to." Rosalin wouldn't tell him anything she didn't have to. The Kwons might be a nice family, but they had been swallowed by the cult. She was sure of it. Once the police arrived, she would let them do the deprogramming. In the meantime, she would try to keep things as easy as she could with her host family. "But your mother has been nice enough to take me in and feed me."

Brian looked at her holster. He cocked his head. "You have a gun?" His blood ran cold. It suddenly felt like someone was stalking him. "Are you a pig?"

"Brian! That's not nice." Darby frowned at him.

"I'm not a cop, Brian." Rosalin eyed him warily. He seemed suddenly hostile in a way she hadn't seen from him before. "I was just unsafe in this building. There's... um... a wolf." She could see him visibly tense when she said that.

"I saw it, too, Brian. It was horrible." Darby nodded.

"So... you're not here about the bevy?" Brian frowned.

"The what?" Rosalin caught herself looking at his well-defined abs. She moved her gaze back up to his eyes.

"Shit... I thought..." Brian glanced at the gun and shook his head. "After we kissed in the basement, I thought -"

"I have a fiancé!" The words came out of Rosalin's mouth a bit more sharply than she would have liked. She reminded herself that she needed to get along with these people, at least for a few more hours. "You shouldn't have kissed me, Brian." She was amazed to find that after everything she'd been through that day, her body still had energy for embarrassment. She felt her cheeks heating.

"I think you're not giving Brian a fair chance. I'm sure he's a much better kisser than your fiancé." Darby's tone was suddenly cold. She stood and gave Rosalin a scathing look.

"Wait... what?" Rosalin didn't know if she was still experiencing the effects of the drugs or what. Did Darby want her to kiss Brian?

"Look at him. His feelings are hurt." Darby walked over and hugged her son tightly, running her fingers through his silky, black hair. "I'm going to take care of my son for a while, please make yourself at home." With her arm around his shoulders, she led him to the door, stopped, and looked back. "I hope you'll reconsider how you treat Brian. We're lucky to be in his bevy."

"What?" Rosalin's mind was having a hard time reconciling what was happening with reality.

"I can handle things on my own, Mom," Brian said.

"Of course you can," Darby soothed him and led him down the hall. "But sometimes it feels good for Mommy to take care of her boy."

Rosalin heard his door close. She absentmindedly sipped her coffee and stared at the wall. She realized she was alone. In a flash, she was up on her feet. Darby hadn't let her use the phone when she'd asked earlier. She had said that she was waiting for a call. But now...

The phone was in the kitchen. Rosalin picked it up and dialed. Nothing. She tapped the disconnect button and listened. No dial tone. "Shit." She tried again with the same result. Had the cult cut this line when they knew she was here? Did they know she was here!?! She was still fiddling with the phone when she heard yelling come from the other side of the apartment.

Drawing her revolver, she let the phone fall, dangling from its cord. Rosalin could hear Darby hollering. The woman sounded like she was in pain. Did my arrival prompt Brian into some sort of violent act? That didn't make sense. She knew Brian. He was a gentle soul, even if he was misguided.

The screaming continued. It was bestial, rhythmic, and frenzied. It barely sounded like Darby. Rosalin checked her cylinder. She still had five shots. She snapped the gun closed and crept into the hall. Something heavy was banging a regular cadence on the wall. What is he doing to her?

Darby was wailing so loudly that her voice vibrated the framed family photos in the hallway.

Rosalin chewed her lip. It didn't sound like pain. Her mind was slow to make the connection because of the violence of her day and... the fact that Darby was Brian's mother. Maybe it was more the latter. It was inconceivable that they were doing what it sounded like they were doing. But now that her mind had unpuzzled the rhythmic thumping and screaming, it was becoming clear. Either it was the strangest, drawn-out murder in history, or they were having aggressive, feral sex.

Rosalin was right outside Brian's door. She tried the handle with her left hand, her eyes on her engagement ring. She thought of the moment David had dropped to his knee and offered her that ring. How had she gone from the sanity of that day to the present?

With a twist of the handle, she opened the door. It swung in slowly, revealing mother and son fornicating on Brian's bed. It was the headboard that was thumping against the wall. Judging from the deteriorating state of the drywall there, this wasn't the first time it had done that. Rosalin could even see some of the studs showing underneath.

Darby was naked on her hands and knees, her large breasts swaying under her. She was looking straight at Rosalin, but she didn't seem to see the intruder. Darby's eyes were vacant and her mouth hung open. Her shiny, black hair fell around her face.

Brian was equally naked, gripping her hips tightly. He was slamming into her from behind with the thickest dick Rosalin had ever seen. Judging from the length of his strokes, it was also the longest. It was a wonder that it somehow fit inside a woman.

"No." Rosalin lifted her gun and pointed it at Brian. "This is incest. Stop. She's your mother."

Brian noticed his guest. He turned and smiled. Even when he caught sight of the pistol, he felt too good to do anything but grin. "What... are you... ugh... ugh... doing?"

At the sound of her son's words, some sense returned to Darby. She focused on Rosalin and let out a frightened shriek between wails of pleasure. "She's... got a... ah... ah... aaaahhhhhh... gun!"

"Stop... stop humping her." Rosalin had been trying to keep the peace with the Kwons. She supposed she'd just thrown that out the window. But how could she not? It was their fault for doing... what they were doing. "Stop it, Brian."

"You're not going... to shoot me... Rosalin." He gave her a nod of respect. He liked strong women, and she was proving herself to have a backbone forged of steel. She really was a great addition to the bevy. "We're not... uugghhh... uuugghhh... hurting... anyone."

"You're fucking your mother... against her will." Rosalin spit out the words, holding the gun on him.

"No... I'm not." Brian shook his head and continued to pound his hips into his mother's rippling ass. "Tell her... ugh... ugh... Mom."

"I want it... Ms. Ekland." Darby's eyes widened as she fought with ecstasy to maintain enough of her mind to communicate. Waves of pleasure surged from her vagina through every nerve in her body. Sweat dripped from her nose onto the sheet below. "Brian is... special... and what we're doing... is wild... and wonderful... oooohhhhhhh... and... eeeeiiiiiiiiiii... and... and... he's going to... put a baby in meeeeeeeeee... a special... babyyyyyyyyyyy."

Rosalin stared in horror. Something had reduced this nice family to creatures who were little more than animals. And Rosalin was trapped in their apartment. She lowered her gun. She was trapped until the police showed up to investigate Elizabeth's murder. More dread rushed through her. Elizabeth's body wasn't where Rosalin had left it. What if the cult covers up the murder? I could be trapped in here... forever. Slowly, Rosalin backed out of Brian's room and closed the door. She stood in the hallway, breathing heavily and staring at nothing. The sounds of sex continued unabated through the door. She stumbled away.

A minute later, Rosalin found herself in the kitchen, trying the phone again. There was still no dial tone. She put her gun back in its holster. Did she dare make another run for it? No, that wouldn't work. She walked in a daze to the living room, sat on the sofa, and tried to come up with a plan. It was very hard to think with Darby screaming and begging Brian to "fill her up."

"Out of the frying pan, and into the fire." Rosalin stared out at New York through the windows. One of the ugly gargoyles stared back at her from the edge of the window frame.

~~

May 1, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir and Marland families.

"You're so bad." Hani smiled at her boyfriend as he lowered his pants and underwear. He was lying on his bed, and his dick was very hard. "But, you know, I'd rather you took your top off. All those muscles need some fingers to massage them."

"My dick still scares you." Joe looked up at his girlfriend. She was standing next to his bed, taking off her hijab. She was still panting from running home through busy streets after school. They had to race to give themselves as much time as they could together.

"It doesn't scare me." Hani tossed her hijab over a chair, shook out her hair, and put her hands on her hips. She did her best to look formidable. "Do you know what happens to ladies that get friendly with monsters? No? They get devoured. I don't plan on letting your dick swallow me whole."

"It... can't do that." Joe frowned at her. "It's not a monster." His frown cracked, slowly turning into a smile. He was having a hard time suppressing giggles.

"That's what all monsters say." Hani laughed along with him. "Oh, don't worry. I'll play with it. But first, take your shirt off." She pulled off her dress, and jumped onto the bed wearing only her bra, panties, and socks.

"Okay, fine." Joe pulled off his shirt and laughed harder when she immediately rubbed her cheek on his chest and strummed his abs like she was playing the guitar.

"Ohhhhh... my hunky boyfriend... who lives down the hall... he took my heart... and that's not all," she sang, kissing his chest gently and feeling his muscles move and flex under her dark lips. She walked two fingers down into his pubic hair and up onto his shaft. She seized his dick and squeezed it. "Don't worry, I've got the monster under control."

"Damn... Hani... you do." Joe leaned back and let her stroke him with one hand, while she felt him up with the other.

Outside in the hall, Carrie pressed her ear to the door. Her eyes were wide and her hand was pressed to her mouth. It's true. They're really not having sex. She was relieved. But they were also doing... all sorts of other things. That was concerning! She could hear her son grunting in pleasure. She pulled her ear away from the door. No mother should hear that. Slowly, she put her ear back. My sweet Joey sounds angry grunting like that. His voice is so deep. He really has changed.

There was nothing for Carrie to do about the teenagers. They were both eighteen, and they weren't even having sex. But... it felt so odd letting them pleasure each other while she was home. She pressed her lips into a tight line. Her eyes went wide again. The stuff Hani's saying! That girl has such a dirty mouth... and a dirty mind. Maybe it was just that kids these days were different than in Carrie's youth. It wasn't like Carrie didn't enjoy sex. She and her husband worked their way through a bottle of Kama Sutra oil every few months. But still...

Carrie's eyes went even wider when her son grunted louder, announcing to his girlfriend that he was about to cum.

With a start, Carrie moved away from the door. Her body felt funny and tingly. She was acutely aware of a buzzing in her belly. Her stiff nipples were poking into her bra. She quickly retreated down the hall, her mind swirling. She was grateful that Joe was too big for sex. But at the same time, as a mother, her heart hurt for him. She wondered how he'd find a wife and a normal life. She wondered how much Kama Sutra oil he would go through when he did finally get married. She imagined he'd need a boatful.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 17
Uba fears she may be corrupting her son.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

May 4, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

When his mother walked into his room, Abshir gave her a knowing smile. He was still shirtless, pulling his jeans on. He was just getting his dick in the perfect position, to the left where he liked it, before buttoning up. "No school today?" He gave her a hopeful look. "Are you calling in sick for me?"

"No... um... no..." Uba adjusted her glasses and took in his physique. "I knew you'd lost some weight, sweetheart, but... have you been working out?" His muscles weren't overwrought, but he looked like he had the body of a boy spending considerable time on a farm. Since her eighteen-year-old lived and went to school in New York, she didn't think he'd been tossing bales of hay. "How... um... did you get a body like that?"

"I just tucked my dick away. Should I get it back out?" Abshir picked up his glasses and put them on, he wanted to see the turmoil in her expression, and he wasn't disappointed. She was biting her bottom lip, staring at his chest, and seemed quite vexed.

"Quiet!" Uba hissed. She closed his door and leaned her butt against it. She was wearing one of her long, dark dresses, but she hadn't put her hijab on yet. "Your father and sister are still home." Her gaze dropped down to the lump in his jeans.

"I honestly don't care if they see me fapping." He started to lower his pants.

"No... stop... you're going to school." She pointed a finger at him. "I said stop. Yes, pull them up. Thank you." She sighed with relief. "You are going to school today. And I'm going to work. I just wanted to check and see if you relieved yourself over the weekend. I... um... didn't see any dirty socks in the laundry... so..."

"Nah..." Abshir buttoned his pants and winked at her. "I practiced abstinence."

"You didn't..." Uba lowered her voice. "... touch yourself? I thought we had an understanding. It's healthy for you to do that."

"No." Abshir took off his glasses, pulled on a long-sleeved shirt, and put his glasses back on. "You knocked me off the wagon. Well... your tits did. But I'm back to being pure again. It's going to take me weeks to get back to where I was before I fapped for you, but..."

Uba stamped her foot and spoke harshly. "This is ridiculous... you're so difficult these days... all I want is..." She paused and took a deep breath. When she started again, she put some sweetness back into her voice. "Didn't it feel good to let all that pent-up stuff out?" She walked over to his dresser, pulled out a sock, and put it on his desk. "You have about ten minutes before you need to leave. Why don't you start the day with a nice release? I'm sure it will help you focus at school."

"Dang, Mom. You're like my dealer or something." Abshir laughed. He grabbed the sock and pulled it onto his foot. Then, he went to his dresser, grabbed a mismatched one, and put it on the other foot. "You're like the devil," he said, still laughing. He walked past her, opened the door, and left the room.

Uba stood in her son's room, trembling and contemplating how she had come to this crossroads in life. She thought about going to her husband for a quick, pre-work sex session. But he would say no. And even if he said yes, he didn't have what she needed. His spunk was old and tired. She needed the scent of teenage sperm. She bunched her hands into fists, looking out her son's window. A gargoyle was leering in at her. She blew a raspberry at the statue, the rudest thing she could think of. "Don't judge me, you ugly piece of stone."

"Mom?" Hani stopped in the hall. She already wore her hijab, a light jacket over her dress, and her backpack. "What are you doing in Abshir's room?" Hani could see what her mother was doing. Her mom was picking fights with creepy gargoyles. First, Abshir started acting strange. Now, her mom was going bonkers.

"I'm just... upset that your brother's room is a mess." Uba turned to her daughter and forced a smile.

"Yeah... well... he is a boy." Hani shrugged. "Boys are gross. But my room is clean."

"That's good." Hani nodded. "Are you seeing Joey after school today?"

"Yeah." Hani felt her cheeks heat. "We'll be at his place. But don't worry, his mom will be home."

"I'm glad she's at the apartment so much." Uba's words were slow and distracted. She could get off work early, and then it would be just her and Abshir at home for several hours. "Have fun with your boyfriend. You don't need to be home until dinner."

"Yeah, okay." Hani smiled and headed toward the front door. She wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

~~

December 13, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family and Rosalin Eklund.

The prurient and stomach-turning sounds of bestial sex went on much longer than Rosalin would have thought possible. She sat coiled tightly into one of the Kwon armchairs in the living room. She was forced to listen. She couldn't very well leave the apartment. Rosalin tried her best to tune out Darby's savage cries and obscene exhortations. Instead of horrible incest, she worked to think of her sweet fiancé. He wasn't that far away in Connecticut. If the police investigated Elizabeth's murder, she might see David very soon. She didn't care if she was in handcuffs, it would be a blessing to be anywhere but 3838 Walnut Street.

Eventually, the sounds of sex culminated into one wailing, roaring climax. If Rosalin's count was correct, it was the third time Brian had finished in his mother. She grimaced, and held her revolver by the handle, resting it on her thigh.

A short time later, she heard a door open. And then, another door closed with a click. She could hear water running. Someone was taking a shower. That someone wasn't Brian, however, because he casually walked into the room wearing only his shorts. Rosalin could smell the sex wafting off him from several feet away. He sauntered over and sat in the other armchair, gazing at her in a good-natured way. She stared daggers back at him. They sat in silence while the shower ran in a different part of the apartment.

Brian tapped his finger on his thigh, thinking. "We're friends, right?"

Rosalin shook her head. Her finger wasn't on the.38's trigger because she had discipline. But it was itching to go there.

"Well, we were friends. We had fun talking and sharing life." He smiled warmly. "Maybe we didn't share everything with each other. Like... why do you have a gun?"

She shrugged.

"Do you believe in fate?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Does your father know what you and your mother are doing?" She could see by the flicker of doubt on his face that Greg Kwon didn't know. Because, of course, he wouldn't allow his teenage son to hump his wife. Unless... he's part of the cult, too. With her left hand, Rosalin pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes. "If you don't stop doing those things with your mother, I'll tell him. I'll tell your father."

"Talk to the hand, girl." Brian's laugh was less sure than it had been a minute ago.

"He'll kill you." Roslin opened an eye and squinted at him. A headache had started throbbing.

"You're backing the wrong stag." Brian shook his head and leaned forward. He was eager for this debate. His brown eyes flashed crimson. "I have to take her from him. Don't you see? And he has to know. He has to accept defeat and pass the bevy on to me. We are recreating something. A series of events that will lead to a rebirth." He could see from the horror written on her face that he wasn't getting through. "I wish I could take you to the basement again. With the roots all around us, you'd see. But... I think you have to stay in the apartment." He frowned. "I wish I could hear Her when I'm up here. I'll go down and see what She says."

"Can you... check if the police are here? Maybe let them know I'm in your apartment?" Rosalin put her gun back in its holster. "And that I have a gun." He was obviously insane, but she didn't think he'd try to hurt her. Even if he did, she had four inches on him, and seven on his mother. She had subdued the Bloomfield Murderer in person. She didn't think the Kwons would even know how to throw a punch. "Look, we can be friends," she lied. "Just bring the police here. They'll want to talk to me." She glanced toward the front door. If there was a wolf, should she send him out there? It was difficult to weigh her decisions with her sanity frayed as it was.

"Sure, I'll see if any cops are around." Brian stood and headed back to his room to get dressed. "I'll be back before dinner."

"Oh... goody." Rosalin shook her head as she watched his muscled back disappear down the hall. The sound of the shower ended. Rosalin sighed. She was going to have to deal with Darby's insanity, too.

~~

March 8, 1955: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"Mrs. Lavey! You look lovely tonight. I trust your husband is watching the baby?" Elizabeth strolled across the lobby, her dress was about a decade out of style, but she didn't mind. It sparkled as she wended around round tables, guests in black-tie, and waiters carrying drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

"Mrs. Norwood." Betsy sipped her cocktail and tried to smile. She had lost one child, and she knew her new baby owed his life to this woman. "Little William is well, thank you. Harold makes a fine nursemaid."

"Yes, indeed." Elizabeth let out a long laugh that resounded over the chatter in the room.

"So... um... the carvings look wonderful. You've really decked out the lobby." Betsy looked nervously around the space. Many of the people she recognized from the building, some she didn't.

"They do look wonderful, don't they? I'm sure She will be honored when She returns." Elizabeth nodded and regarded a splendid depiction of the Goddess making a gesture of benediction on the wall near them.

"Yes... um... I wish Billy could have seen this." Betsy's face fell.

"Me too." Elizabeth's complexion went even paler than usual, contrasting starkly with her black, pinned hair. "Little William would not exist, and we would be in the middle of a forest primeval."

"Oh..." Betsy shivered. She pushed back tears that threatened to ruin her makeup. I'm done crying about Billy. I have William to care for.

"That fucking wolf. Every time... he destroys what I..." Elizabeth's teeth ground together. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, today is a day for celebration. Don't fret about the wolf, my dear. I know how to deal with him next time."

"Oh, how's that?" Betsy was trembling. She wished she could return to her apartment. She wished she could return to Billy's arms. She would never find another lover like him. She hadn't even bothered trying with the defeated Harold.

"Mrs. Wilkins! So happy you could make it." Elizabeth waved to a newly arrived guest. She glanced at Betsy. "Enjoy the evening, Mrs. Lavey. Don't forget to be at chapel at eleven." Elizabeth rushed off to greet the erstwhile owner of the building.

~~

May 4, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

Uba left work early as planned. She was now back in her apartment, standing naked in front of her dresser, looking over her underwear selection. She frowned at everything. She didn't own anything that a teenage boy would find sexy. This was a problem, because she didn't want to bare her breasts to him again. If she could pose in something fetching, she could inspire him to relieve himself, and get her hands on another dirty sock without getting fully naked. She shivered, imagining the moment of satisfaction when she finally had that sock. He had said that she was the only thing that could knock him off the wagon. This was the only way to get what she needed.

She selected a green, matching set of bra and panties that had a little lace. She frowned as she put them on. I warned myself about sin leading to more sin, and here I am, ready to make Abshir stray from purity. It didn't matter. She told herself that all young men touched themselves, and if she was steering him anywhere, it was toward normalcy.

Checking the clock, Uba saw that it was almost time. She raced to the bathroom to check her makeup and hair. She brushed her black curls out over her shoulders. Satisfied, she walked to the front door. It was so strange to move about her apartment in only her underwear. Goodness, I hope he doesn't bring home a friend! But she wasn't that worried. He hardly played with his friends anymore.

Uba had just leaned herself provocatively against the wall next to a family portrait when the door opened. Abshir entered the house. Uba said a little prayer under her breath and stuck out her chest. "Welcome home, sweetheart. You look grumpy."

"Hey, Mom." Abshir closed the door behind him, took two steps into the apartment, and froze when he saw his mother. His dark demeanor brightened at the sight. "I'm just pissed that Hani is galivanting around with Joe when..." Now is not the time to tell Mom about my bevy. "When... I don't have a girlfriend."

"You're frustrated and stopped up... down there." Uba nodded to his crotch with sympathy. She removed his backpack and jacket, hung them up, and took his hand. "I think you need to come down from your wagon for the afternoon. You'll feel so much better." She led him to his room, closed the door, and seated him on the edge of his bed. "Don't give me that look, this is for your own good," she lied.

"Are you going to show me your tits again?" Abshir's dick strained against his pants. His prim mother was trying to seduce him into fapping. She was a junkie for sperm, just as Ogganse had said she'd be. It was a beautiful moment that he wanted to savor.

"I put on nice underwear for you." Uba went to his desk, grabbed his bottle of lotion, and brought it to him. "I'm not comfortable showing you my breasts again. I -"

"Tits, tits, tits, tits, tits." Abshir thrust his fist in the air with each syllable, like he was leading a march.

"Behave, sweetie." She gave him a pleading look as she took a sock from his dresser and put it on the bed next to him.

"Sorry, Mom." He grinned at her, adjusted his glasses, and stared at her bra. "Please show me your wonderful, hanging breasts. If you do that, I promise I'll fap for you." He waited to unzip his pants.

"Oh... my gosh." Uba's upper chest and face became very warm. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra. How quickly I gave up on preserving some spec of modesty. It was obvious from a brief glance at the front of his jeans that he was already huge and hard. She was halfway there. "Who am I?" She whispered, removing her bra and letting her boobs fall free.

"You're the best mom in the world, that's who." Abshir grinned from ear to ear. "I don't even remember what purity feels like. You make me such a dirty boy." He pulled his jeans and underwear off his legs. His dick sprung into the air, ready for whatever would come next.

"I'm a bad mom. I'm very bad." But for Uba, knowing that and doing something about it were two different things. "Put lotion on it and get started." She nodded to the bottle of hand lotion she'd left for him.

"You know you're going to have to play with your nipples again, right?" Abshir slathered his hands in lotion and started pumping his shaft.

"I know," she said weakly. Without hesitation, she hefted her breasts for him. She remembered how he liked it, so she emphasized their weight. She dropped them several times, letting her flesh dance and shake wildly.

"Damn... Mom... that's a killer titty drop." He had to force himself not to rush over and motorboat her.

"Please... stop talking like that." She grimaced at his language. "Just finish up, okay?" Seeing the greed in his eyes, she rolled her nipples with her fingers, one in each hand. "This is what you like, right?" Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes went distant. How strange that she had so ignored her breasts for so long. They felt wonderful. "Ooohhhhhhh."

"Yeah... that's hot." Abshir pumped harder. The sound of his squelching hands filled the room. "What if we... uugghhh... traded places?"

Despite the situation, Uba burst out with a laugh. She paused rolling her nipples, cupping her breasts while they shook with her cackles. It was a good tension reliever. When her final giggles subsided, she went back to the lovely feeling of pleasuring her stiff nipples. "Like Freaky Friday? You're so strange, sweetheart."

"No... I mean... I'll play with your boobs... and you can play with my dick." The thought of it sent tingles down his spine.

"Ha!" She barked out another laugh, this time without mirth. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, very much." Abshir nodded earnestly.

Uba gazed at the domed head of his penis. She could see the way he was squeezing just below the glans at the apex of each pump. Why couldn't she do that for him? She had held it before. They could make each other feel very good. If I said yes, we could be helping each other out right now. We're already doing these things, we'd just be doing it to each other. She shook her head quickly to clear her thoughts. "I'm... feeling muddled. There's no way we could do that. I just need you to finish in your sock."

"If your fingers feel good, I bet your mouth would feel even better." He pumped himself harder.

"You keep pushing me and pushing me. Where's the polite boy I raised?" With some effort, she pulled her hands away from her breasts. "There's no way I'm putting my mouth on your thing. There's a nine-mile-long list cataloging why that will never happen. Don't make me say all the important points. Just look at my breasts and finish, okay?" She put her hands on her hips and posed for him.

"I'm not asking for a blowjob, Mom." He smiled. "I meant your mouth on your tit. You're big enough that you could suck on your own nipple. Have you ever tried it?"

Uba's eyes went wide. She'd never considered such a thing. Certainly, Taban had never suggested it. "I could suck on...?" She looked down at her dark breasts, she could just see the upper half of her black nipples. She tilted her right breast up and looked at the whole nipple. "Do... women do that? Do they like it?"

"Sure, Mom. I've seen it on the internet."

"You shouldn't look at such things. The internet can corrupt you." Who was she kidding? She was the one responsible for corrupting him. He wouldn't be touching himself if she hadn't pushed him into this. He would be a pure young man, instead she had corralled him into a world of need and greed. A world where he asked for more and more. This is my fault.

"It's supposed to feel really good. And I can... uuugghhh... tell that you have sensitive nipples." Abshir's hands slowed down. If he kept going full speed, he'd cum. Seeing the conflicting looks of moral indignation and lust on his mother's face was too much.

"And if I did that, you'd finish faster?" Uba was speaking to him, but regarding her breast. It was almost like she was addressing the question to her upturned nipple.

"For sure." He nodded.

"It's important for your health that you finish, so..." She lifted her breast to her mouth and rolled her tongue around her wide areola. "Mmmmhhhhhh." Her eyelids fluttered when she nibbled gently on her own nipple. She arched her back and squeezed her breast with her hands. Euphoria took over. I have wasted so many years! What a gift Abshir has given me with the knowledge that this is possible.

"Damn... Mom... so... so... hot." Abshir's face went slack. "Wouldn't it feel good if... uuugghhhh... both of us... sucked on one... at the same time?"
Uba dropped the breast from her mouth. "No... no... it wouldn't," she lied. She rushed to the window and shut the curtains on the city and the peeping, stone gargoyle. The room was cast into gloom, which seemed to fit her furtive mood. "I can't let you touch me... even if it would help you finish. We just... can't." She took a couple wavering steps toward his bed.

The next thirty seconds were a blur to Uba. She wasn't sure what she'd done, but she knew she had done it. It wasn't her son's fault. And now that she was sucking her breast again, while he was sucking on the other one, she found that she didn't have the will to stop. She was on her knees on the mattress next to him. His head was turned, and he held onto her breast with one hand, squeezing it rhythmically. His other hand still pumped his erection. She held her other boob with both hands, angling it up, while slurping on her nipple. Her whole body vibrated with bliss. "Mmmmppphhhh," she said.

"Mmmmppphhhhhhhh," he said. This was better than what Ogganse had promised him. He had never felt more alive. And it was beautiful that they had so much more pleasure ahead of them. Maybe I don't even need a bevy. Maybe she would be enough. A sudden shock of doubt hit him. No, I need Hani and several others to make the Goddess. But for now, Mom is enough. "Mmmm... mmm... mmmmpppphhhh." He was trying to tell her that he was about to cum, but his words were muffled by her tit. He thought about the sock, but didn't bother reaching for it. He was too busy with other things.

"Mmmmmmm." One of Uba's eyes fluttered open, the other was shut tight. Her mind swam in bliss. Is it possible to orgasm just from your breasts? Abshir would know. But she couldn't ask him. Neither of them were at liberty to speak. Something was building in her. Oh... gosh... I really am going to have some sort of orgasm. She was so completely swallowed by her pleasure, that she didn't notice that her son was orgasming until she felt the hot splashes of his semen on her belly, breast, and face. It was so startling that she flinched back and fell off the bed, landing on her butt on the floor. Her nipples were now free, and her orgasm was ruined, but she was splattered with teenage sperm. She still had one eye closed, because the sticky stuff was running down that side of her face. "You... didn't use the sock." The wonderful, overripe smell of his fresh spunk filled her nostrils. She breathed deeply, standing on wobbly legs.

"Uuuuuugggghhhhhh." Was all Abshir could say.

"Oh... my... gosh..." Uba watched her boy spray jet after jet of sperm into the air. The stuff landed on his chest... on his lap... on the bed... everywhere. There was so much. "I'm sorry... I'm so... sorry," she said and ran out of the room. She didn't have the coveted dirty sock, but he had marked her with his stuff. I am the dirty sock now! Her belly burned with anticipation as she raced to the bathroom. She would masturbate with the freshest scent of teenage sperm imaginable.

~~

March 8, 1955: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"Uuuuggghhhh... ooo... ooo... uuuuuugghhh... ooo... ooo... nnnnngggaaaaaa... Ogganse!" The chant was low and urgent in the chapel.

"Wait... what's going on?" Marcus was held firmly by two women. One was in her twenties, the other probably in her forties. He recognized the younger one from the first time his wife had fallen to these beasts. "This is the work of... Satan. Who are you?"

"I'm Mrs. Creech, and your other chaperone is Mrs. Creneling. We have no use for Satan." Natalie spoke in hushed tones. "Nancy, please gag him. He's disturbing the ceremony."

"Ooh... ooh... ooh... Ogganse... ooh... ooh... ooh... Ogganse," the people that filled the pews spoke in a gathering rush. They were still wearing their black-tie outfits from the earlier unveiling.

"That's my wife, you can't... mmmmmppphhh." Marcus struggled when they stuffed cloth into his mouth. He watched Susan walk slowly down the aisle toward the platform at the front of the chapel. A woman with her face hidden by a cowl waited for her. Behind the hooded figure rested the rough-hewn statue of a goddess. It had heavy, ponderous breasts and wide hips. The walls of the place were bare and danced in the light of the many candles. "Mmmmpphhh!" Marcus said. His wife had been given a white gown that swished around her legs with each step. She looked like a bride on her way to the altar.

Elizabeth, dressed in dark ceremonial robes, threw back her hood and flung her arms wide. Her black hair was down about her shoulders, shimmering in the warm light. Her eyes were a carmine red, glowing fiercely. Her skin was the color of fresh snow. "We have new devotees that will help bring about the renaissance. With years to plan, we must choose our allies and our road carefully." She held out her hand to Susan, well aware that she hadn't chosen this couple with much forethought. They had simply owned the building. Elizabeth pulled Susan on stage, and placed the woman's hands on the Hungarian Lady.

"Ohhhh... the stone is warm," Susan blurted.

Elizabeth disrobed. She was naked underneath, her outlandish curves matching those of the statue. She held up a long knife in one hand for all to witness. She could see Marcus struggling, and hear his muffled whimpers. Elizabeth gave him a cruel grin. "Let Susan Wilkins give herself to Her and become one with us!"

"Ooohhhh... ugh... ugh... oooooohhhhh... ugh... ugh... rrrrrrraaaahhhhh!" The congregants chanted.

In one quick motion, Elizabeth flipped the knife in the air, caught it, and brought it down in a long, quick arc. The sound of tearing fabric filled the chapel. The back of Susan's dress was suddenly split, but her skin remained perfectly untouched by the blade.

"Oh... my..." Susan kept her hands on the statue, leaning forward with her back to Elizabeth. "This is it!" She trembled as she felt Elizabeth's hands gripping and spreading her butt cheeks. She couldn't see behind her, but she knew the woman was kneeling between her legs, her face at Susan's rear. And then that long, unwholesome tongue was pushing its way into Susan's vagina. "Eeeeeeiiiiiiiiiii." Susan didn't care that the chanting crowd was watching her. She didn't care that her husband sat in the pews. She didn't care that no tongue should be able to do what Elizabeth's could. Susan gripped the statue tightly and screamed in ecstasy.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 18
Uba crosses more bridges.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

December 13, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family and Rosalin Eklund.

"Thanks for letting me stay, Mr. Kwon." Rosalin sat at the Kwon family dinner table. They were eating dumplings and rice. She had been so starved recently that she scarfed down the meal, even though her stomach turned watching Brian and Darby make lovey-dovey eyes at each other across the table.

"I'm confused, you live in the building, but you're spending the night on our couch?" Greg eyed the woman suspiciously. She was clearly in her twenties and way too old to be dating his eighteen-year-old son. His wife had said she was one of 'Brian's friends'. But where did he meet an older, authoritative looking woman? One who wears her leather jacket to dinner?

"She's had some trouble with her apartment on the seventh floor. She's just staying one night." Darby lied to her husband with alacrity now.

Brian watched his father's simmering reaction with a smug grin.

"I won't stay long." Rosalin nodded. She was overheating in her jacket, but she didn't want to freak out Greg by displaying her gun. And she sure as hell wasn't going to take it off.

"Mmmmm." Greg chewed his dumpling slowly. He sipped some water and frowned at their guest. "What is it you do, Ms. Ekland?"

"She's a reporter," Darby volunteered. Another lie.

"Actually, I'm working on a story, and I was wondering if you noticed any police in the building today?" Rosalin was having trouble with her chopsticks, but she managed to shove another dumpling into her mouth. She had to admit, the Kwons ate well. Dinner was delicious. She would have enjoyed it under other circumstances.

"You're doing a story on a police investigation in your own building?" Greg's frown deepened. Lines of disproval dug themselves into his face. "I didn't see anything of the sort. What's really going on?" He looked over at his deadbeat son. "Brian, are you in trouble?"

"Everything's fine, Greg." Darby put a hand on her husband's wrist.

Rosalin took a gulp of water. This was awkward.

Greg brushed his wife's hand away. "Stop coddling him. You've been bending over backward for him recently. It has to stop."

Rosalin's eyes went round thinking about just how much Darby had been bending over for her son that very day. Her water went down the wrong pipe, and she started choking and sputtering.

"Greg... our son is special... he -" Darby said.

"Not another word, Darby," Greg spoke over his wife. "I've had enough -"

"Enough!" Brian let his word ring around the dining room. Other than Rosalin still coughing on her water, the room was quiet.

Darby stared at her son with surprise, admiration, and arousal.

Greg turned pale and slunk down in his chair.

"There now. Let's have a pleasant meal." Brian patted Rosalin's back. "You okay?"

Rosalin flinched from him, but nodded that she was okay. Her inclination was to run, but where would she go? So, she sat and caught her breath.

"You'll treat me with respect, Dad. You'll treat Rosalin with respect. And you'll treat Mom with respect." Brian's words were clipped and icy. He was gearing himself up for the confrontation that Ogganse had promised him. But he couldn't. He glanced at Rosalin and silently cursed. She was a wildcard. It would have to wait. His mother would sleep in his father's bed for a little while longer. "Do you understand?"

Greg nodded meekly. "I... I... have to go read some reports..." He pushed his chair back and stood. "... for work." He walked toward the door.

"Stop!" Brian's voice rang out.

Rosalin watched the scene in awe. Brian looked suddenly so authoritative. It must have been a trick of the light, but she thought his eyes actually flashed red with anger. His mother looked like a fawning groupie to one of the bands he loved. His father was completely cowed, stopping in the doorway with his back to them.

"You'll clear the table and do the dishes," Brian said.

"But... your mother does the dishes." Greg looked back at his son in confusion.

Rosalin decided Greg wasn't part of the cult. He was too shocked by his son's behavior. "Mr. Kwon, I think your son and mother are part of a secret organization and -"

"Silence!" Brian bellowed.

Rosalin went quiet.

Darby rubbed her legs together. She was soaking her panties. She was sure she was going to leave a puddle on her chair. Her pupils dilated, and her mouth hung open. She felt like Cupid had just hit her with a dozen arrows. "Wow... Brian," she whispered.

"Brian..." Greg desperately wanted to be in another part of the apartment. "I have work to do, I -"

"Put on a fucking apron, and do the fucking dishes." Brian had lowered his voice to a growl.

Greg turned and ran into the kitchen. A few moments later he came out wearing an apron. He cleared the table while Darby and Brian made small talk about music, and Rosalin sat in silence eating her remaining dumplings.

~~

May 5, 2015: Apartments 12C and 12E, the Dahir and Marland families.

Joe was late to get out the door for school. He saw Hani step into the elevator, but decided not to call for her to hold it. Instead, the chase was on. He lived for the hunt these days, bolting for the stairs. The stairwell was a blur as he descended. He had somehow thought he would beat her to the lobby, but she was halfway to the front entrance by the time he exited the stairwell. It occurred to him that there was no way a person could beat the elevator racing down from the twelfth floor. How did I even get close? "Hey, Hani, wait up." His heart melted when she turned and smiled at him. She wore the same sort of outfit that she wore every day with a hijab and long dress, but seeing her beauty always felt to Joe like a singularly novel experience.

"Where did you even come from?" Hani had been in the elevator, and she was sure she hadn't had company.

"I ran... down the... stairs." Joe panted, his tongue lolling out of his mouth a little. "I have... something to... ask you." He had a big, goofy grin on his face.

"The stairs? You are so strange, Joe Marland." Hani shook her head. "Wait... you're going to ask me to prom, aren't you?"

"How... how did you know?" Joe brushed his blond hair back with his fingers.

"You're easy to read, Marland." Hani turned and continued walking. "Ask me outside. I don't want them watching us." She pointed at the carvings on either side. "That wolf-headed man gives me the creeps."

"The stag is worse." Joe jogged to keep up with her. A doorman held the door for them, and suddenly, they were enveloped by the aggressive sounds and smells of New York. They hustled down the sidewalk toward school. "So?" Joe said.

Hani looked over at her boyfriend and rolled her eyes. "Of course I'll go to prom with you. I wouldn't dream of going with some other doofus who didn't possess that fine body of yours."

"I'll take it." Joe grinned. "I like your body, too."

"Of course you do, I'm a goddess." Hani laughed.

Joe found himself frowning, although he wasn't sure why.

Hani didn't notice his change in mood. "You're also madly in love with my beautiful face and peerless mind."

"That's true." Joe nodded. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and dodged a man in a business suit. "You're amazing."

"And so are you." Hani smiled. "We'll make an amazing couple at prom. I can't wait."

Neither could Joe.

~~

May 5, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

It's not working. Uba spit out her nipple and removed her hand from her vagina. She was naked, sitting on the toilet lid, all alone in her apartment. Her masturbation felt good, but nothing like it had with Abshir's scent. It was such a letdown without her son's fresh sperm. She had carelessly washed the stuff off after she was done with it yesterday. It was morning now, her family was at work, and she didn't have any teenage spunk. Masturbating without it was like listening to a man whistle when you were used to hearing the symphony.

"I don't even know if I can orgasm." She shook her head and stepped into the shower. Yesterday, I'd been on the verge of climaxing while only stimulating my nipples. Uba shivered. Both she and her son had been sucking on them at the same time. She had never imagined such a thing before. Not with her unruly eighteen-year-old. Not with any man. And yet, she had been the one to put her nipple in his mouth. Once he'd suggested she suck on her own breast, she had hardly waited to try it. I'm corrupting him, and he's corrupting me.

After the shower, Uba dressed and got ready for work. She watched herself in the mirror as she put on her underwear. She didn't look any different, but something had changed. She had become a stranger to herself. "No more socks. No more masturbation. I can live without it." She nodded to her reflection. She felt in her gut that she'd turned a corner. She set her jaw firmly. She could go back to being a good wife and mother. Her son could go back to his purity.

Later in the day, she found herself watching the clock. When it became time for her son to be home, she felt a panic building in her. Hani would be with Joe for the afternoon. Her husband would be at work until at least six. That left a couple hours...

Without thinking, she clocked out early due to an 'illness', and ran home through the streets of New York. She didn't even notice a few droplets of blood soaking into the twelfth-floor carpet as she exited the elevator. She ran right over them. Uba burst into her apartment some fifteen minutes after her son had been due home. "Abshir? Abshir!?!"

"In here, Mom."

Uba rushed into the living room and found her son happily watching TV. "Have you... touched yourself? Do you... have a sock for me?" She was panting from her run home.

"A sock for you?" He adjusted his glasses and gave her a quizzical look.

"Did... you... masturbate... yet?" She pushed her own glasses up her nose and tried to appear formidable. "Remember... it's healthy... and your sister and father will be home in a few hours... so you should do it when you get home from school."

"I'm back on abstinence, Mom." Abshir gave her an innocent smile and looked at his show.

"Oh... for the love of..." Without even removing her hijab, Uba pulled off her dress, and unclasped her bra. She kneeled on the sofa next to her son, forced her nipple into his mouth, and sucked the other one past her own lips. "Mmmmmmmm." She was sweaty, and should have been embarrassed to press her perspiring flesh into his face, but the pleasure was too great for such worries. The symphony inside her was warming up again, and her nerves buzzed. One hand firmly held the back of his head, the other her breast. The sound of the television continued, but Uba was barely aware of anything but her bliss. A bliss that was pulling her soul down little by little. But, of course, she felt too good to worry about her soul.

Abshir sucked on his mother's tit and pulled his hard dick into the open. She had been so desperate that he knew this was a moment to push limits. He reached up and peeled her hand off his head and brought it down toward his cock. He was disappointed when she rebelled and wrenched her wrist from his grip. He pulled his mouth away from her breast and looked up at her. "I've decided I can still be pure if I don't touch it. If you want to make me explode, you'll have to make me explode."

In exasperation, Uba spit out her nipple and stood up. "No... no... we can do what we did yesterday. And that's it." She moved away from him, putting her hands on her hips. It was difficult to be formidable with him while she was topless. Especially because his gaze was fixed on her chest. "We can't..." She glanced at the clock. Time was wasting. "Here, I'll heft them for you." She jiggled her boobs in her hands, but she could see that it wouldn't work. He didn't reach for his penis. She had already taken it too far, and now he wasn't satisfied with merely watching. That is another reason I can't touch him. If I do that, he will need me to do it for each orgasm going forward.

"I want to stay pure." Abshir shrugged.

"I don't know." She stopped jiggling her boobs and dropped her hands to her sides. "Just this morning I promised myself..." Her thoughts lost their focus as her eyes roved the improbable length of his penis. That domed head was absurdly huge. How had she and her husband given her son a tool like that? Whose DNA was at fault? She licked her lips. I know how he likes it. I saw him touching himself, squeezing just below the glans. I could get him to finish quickly, then, before I know it, I'll be in the bathroom with his sperm.

"You're making the funniest face right now." Abshir laughed. "You look like you want to pounce on me."

"Abshir... sweetheart... just touch yourself... please?" She had nothing left to bargain with.

"What did you mean when you asked me if I had a sock for you? Have you been doing something with my dirty socks?" He flexed his dick, making it bounce and bob like a strutting cock.

This was a line of inquiry that Uba couldn't indulge. She looked at the clock again. Then, her gaze fell back on his ugly, mesmerizing penis. "Fine... I'll do it this one time. I'll touch you so you can stay pure. Then... we're both..." She stumbled toward him, her whole body thrumming with anticipation. "... we're both... going to... mmmmmm." Without comprehending the steps that got her there, she found herself on the sofa next to him, one nipple in her mouth, one nipple in his mouth, and her fingers wrapped around one giant penis. She pumped him with her left hand, working the full length of his shaft and squeezing just under the head like she'd seen him do. She had goosebumps all over. She had touched it before in a clinical fashion. But that pretense was over. Her life as she knew it was over. She had a moment of clarity. She was jerking her teenage son, and she would do it each and every day so long as it was the only way to coax his sperm. I didn't even bring him a sock!

Abshir's glasses were mashed to his face by his mother's boob. He didn't care. He thought it was hilarious and undeniably sexy. He reached for her ass and grabbed a cheek. It was plush, pliant, and magnificent. He could feel a tremble working through her, increasing in intensity. With the trembling, and the way she was moaning around her nipple, it appeared that she was on the verge of cumming. But her pussy was unattended. Could a woman cum from only her tits? He didn't know. Maybe he'd need to ask the goddess about it sometime.

"Mmmm... mmmmmm... mmmmmmm..." Uba spasmed violently. Stars burst before her eyes. It wasn't anything like the orgasms she'd had with a sock to her nose, and her fingers on her clitoris, but she was having a splendid climax. She and her son were teaming up to give her pleasure. Her hand wasn't stroking him anymore, instead she was spasmodically squeezing him. But that was okay. She still had time to make him explode. She would redouble her efforts once her own climax passed.

His mother's body jerked a few more times, and then she pulled away from him. Her nipple was no longer in his mouth, and her hand wasn't on his dick. He was about to protest, but he paused as she shakily got down on the floor between his legs. Her eyes were wild and fierce, and her mouth hung open as she gripped his shaft with both hands. "You're all... pent up... sweetheart. Time... to free... yourself." She pumped him awkwardly at first, experimenting with using two hands. She was determined to learn. "Like this... where I squeeze just below... the top?" She stared at the dome as it jerked in her hands.

"That's good... but it's too dry."

Her hands slowed. "Should I go get your lotion?" She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time in quite some time. Her cheeks heated at the pleasure evident on his face. She was doing that to him. It was sublime. What mother wouldn't want to make her son that happy? Her son only grunted at her, so she repeated the question. "Lotion?"

"No... you can't let go... of my dick... or you'll ruin the moment. Keep stroking." He was so close to clutching her hair and forcing her mouth onto his dick. But the goddess didn't want that. The goddess wanted her to cross her own bridges. "Spit on it. Get it... uggghhhhh... wet with spit."

"What?" This was something else that she had never considered. Do women spit on penises, or is my son depraved? "Um... is this something... a woman might normally do for a man?" Confusion wrinkled her forehead. Did she care what couples normally did? I'm not a couple with my son! "I'm not sure that we should..." Her mind was still foggy from the climax, but her hands were finding a nice, milking rhythm on his shaft.

"Just spit on it," Abshir growled.

"Yes... okay... anything to speed this along." She lifted herself up and forward a little, mindful that her nipples were brushing against his thighs. She raised herself higher to avoid that contact, and let saliva fall from her mouth onto his penis. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at the flaring hole in the top of the domed head. Quickly, her hands began squelching with each stroke.

"Yeah... yeah... Mom... that's good..." Abshir smiled, enjoying the equal parts lust and revulsion on her face. "Open your eyes." He was thrilled when she did so immediately. He got lost in her gaze as she two-fisted him with growing ease. "Tell me... you love me."

"I love you, Abshir," Uba whispered.

"Tell me... uuggghhhh... you love me more than Hani."

Uba said nothing and looked away. Even with her renewed discomfort, her hands didn't miss a stroke.

"Tell me... you love me more than Dad." He was now pushing things. He wasn't sure if She would be pleased with him.

"I'm only doing this... so that you can be... healthy." Uba's lie was so thin, she was worried he would start seeing through it.

"Let the... uuuggghh... wild in... Mom." He was getting close.

Those words sent a shiver down her spine. When had the act stopped being a means to an end? She was enjoying handling his manhood too much. I only want his sperm. That's all. She spit on his penis again and pumped him for all she was worth.

"I'm going to... aaahhhh... cum soon." Abshir clenched his teeth.

"We need a sock!" Her eyes went round with worry. What else did she have?

"You're... my dirty sock... Mom." He was ready to spray her again.

"No... no... I'm not." It's not true, is it?

"Tell me... that you're my... dirty sock." Abshir gripped the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, his whole body straining.

"I'm... I'm... your... mother..." She released his penis with one hand just as his hips started to buck. She pulled off her hijab, held it on top of his penis, and continued to pump him with her other hand. "Yes... yes... finish." She watched as the dark material quickly saturated.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhh!" He came into his mother's hijab and roared, not caring if the neighbors heard him. The ecstasy made him lose focus. When lucidity returned, his mother was already running out of the room with her precious, semen-soaked hijab. He watched her panty-clad ass shake. A lazy smile spread over his face. He heard the bathroom door slam followed by the sounds of her huffing his sperm. It wasn't too long until her stifled moans filled his ears. He grabbed his dick and started fapping, listening to his mother do the same. Someday soon, she might be ready for them to do this in the same room. He would keep chasing his own purity until that moment happened.
~~

May 5, 2015: Apartments 12C and 12E, the Dahir and Marland families.

Joe and Hani were sweaty from their run home from school. She was breathing hard as they exited the elevator on the twelfth floor. He was hardly winded.

"Hello, Mrs. Branch." Joe smiled at his neighbor from 12D, holding the elevator door for her. His other hand was clasped in Hani's hand.

Grace Branch didn't step into the elevator, instead she stared at the teenagers' joined hands.

Hani rolled her eyes and pulled Joe into the hall.

"Is everything okay, Mrs. Branch?" Joe cocked his head, confused by the woman. He let go of the doors as his girlfriend pulled him toward his apartment. He was walking backward, still trying to be courteous to his neighbor.

"Special place in hell," Grace said. She let the elevator doors close so she could continue to stare at the teenagers.

"I'm sorry?" Joe was at a complete loss.

"She doesn't like us," Hani whispered in his ear.

Joe turned from Grace and put his key in his lock. "She's always been friendly to me in the past," he whispered back to Hani.

When the door was open, Hani pulled Joe into his apartment. She closed the door behind them. "She's racist, Marland. You were fine when you were white, but now..." She held up her dark hand in his light one.

"But... she's... but... she's..." He scratched his head. "Really?"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you, but some people..." Hani shrugged.

"Well, she has hideous bangs," Joe said.

Hani giggled. "You noticed those, too! Agreed. Hideous!" Hani dragged him to his room. She spotted Carrie sitting with a book in the living room. "Hello, Mrs. Marland."

"Hello, Hani. Good to see you." Carrie smiled and waved. "You have a good day at school, you two?"

The teenagers were eager to have some privacy, but they stopped to make small talk.

Out in the hall, Grace hit the call button, muttering to herself. She should not have let the elevator go. It had descended, and now she had to wait for it to rise back up through the building. She tapped her foot, muttering about the loss of purity among today's youth.

Grace's muttering stopped when the door to the stairs leading to the chapel popped open. The sudden bang gave her a start. She looked down the hall at it. Then she checked her watch. "It's not time for services," she whispered to herself.

The elevator chimed, its door opened, and Grace heard a low rumbling. Her face blanched, and her body trembled. Slowly, she turned her head to peer into the open elevator car. Inside was an enormous wolf, head held low, carmine eyes staring her down. The unmistakable threat of its growl filled the hall.

"No... I've been faithful to Her. I sacrificed my husband," Grace beseeched the wolf. "Where's the stag? You should be hunting the stag."

The wolf took a couple impossibly slow steps toward her, stalking its prey. It did this even though it was making eye contact with the woman.

"Bad doggie. Down boy." Grace waved a trembling finger at the massive beast. "I have served Her. You can't mean to come for me. You can't... eeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiii."

The wolf leapt into the hall and seized Grace around the midsection, digging in its teeth. It bounded down the hall with the flopping, screaming woman in its jaws, heading for the stairs to the fourteenth floor. It didn't mind her weak, pounding fists on his head.

In apartment 12C, Joe was telling his mom about math when they heard the scream from the hall. All three stopped and listened. The shriek quickly died. It was followed by silence.

"Goodness, what was that?" Carrie stood quickly. "Joey?"

"I'll check." Joe moved to the front door. He looked out the spyhole and saw nothing. His mother and girlfriend stood behind him, tension bunching their muscles. "I don't see anything. I'm going to open the door." He glanced at Hani. We're both thinking about that strange day when we saw the deer and wolf. He tried to give her a reassuring smile. He opened the door and looked out. The scent of fresh blood hit him hard, driving his mind wild. He snarled.

"Joey? What is it?" Carrie squeaked.

His mother's voice pulled him back from the wilderness that had been trying to open in his mind. He looked both ways down the hall. There was nothing there. He couldn't see any blood, but the scent was unmistakable. He guessed that there were only a few droplets on the carpet. He'd look for the stain later. "It's... nothing."

"It sounded like a woman screaming." Gaining courage, Carrie peered over her son's shoulder. There really was nothing there.

Hani could see how tense her boyfriend was. She frowned. "It was probably some neighbors listening to heavy metal or something." Gently, she took Joe by the shoulders and pulled him away from the door. "You can close the door, Mrs. Marland. It wasn't anything." She waited for the door to close, and then breathed a sigh of relief when Carrie complied.

"That was so strange." Carrie's face was tight and drawn.

"Oh, we almost forgot to tell you, Mrs. M." Hani forced a smile. "Guess who's taking me to prom?"

Carrie looked at her son and back at Hani and then to her son. "Really?" The odd moment was completely forgotten, she found herself grinning. "You two are going to prom?" She bounced on her toes and clapped her hands. "This is so exciting!"

Joe exhaled, thankful to Hani for changing the direction of things. In the past, his mother's reaction would have been embarrassing. But she didn't really bother him anymore. "Yeah, it is exciting."

"Oooohhhh... group hug!" Carrie bounced up and down, putting an arm around each of them and squeezing them tightly. "You two are such a cute couple!" They were both so strong and vital. Hani was wonderfully curvy, and her son was so lean and muscled. Carrie's belly did little flips, and she was suddenly dizzy. She quickly let go of them, feeling odd, warm tingles spread through her body. "Okay, you've spent enough time with your old mother. You two can go have your privacy now to do your homework... or whatever it is you do in Joey's room." She knew very well what they'd be doing. She planned on listening through the door in the not-too-distant future.

"Thanks, Mom. I'm going to hang with my prom date." Joe picked Hani up and carried her into his room.

"Put me down, you big brute." Hani pretended to beat him with her fists and scream.

Carrie watched them disappear into his room. Seeing him carry her made her even more warm and tingly.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 19
Rosalin spends a restless night at the Kwon's apartment.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

June 18, 1940: Apartment 14D, the Blevin family.

"Welcome home, Hank." Nora had an odd dreamy expression as she took her husband's jacket and hung it in the hall.

"Hello, dear." Hank held his hand out for the customary after-work martini, but his wife turned away from him without supplying any sort of beverage. He frowned. "Mitzy? Mitzy?" There was no reply. He walked into the living room and looked around. "Where's the dog, Nora?"

"I gave him away to one of my friends." Nora came in from the kitchen with a martini in her hand. Rather than handing it to her husband, she sat in an armchair and sipped the drink. She was oblivious to his withering stare. Instead, eyeing their collection of artifacts and trinkets in the curio. "You know Mrs. Simmons, my friend from the library? She took Mitz."

"First you lock our dog in the guest room all night, then you gave him away without telling me?" Hank was fuming.

"Sorry I didn't tell you before it happened." She turned her gaze back to her husband. "There are other things I haven't told you." She smiled sweetly.

"We've been married more than thirty years, and there are things you haven't told me?" Hank's face reddened. "What's gotten into you?"

"Our neighbor's tongue, if you must know." Nora giggled. "It was hhhuuuuggggge."

"By Jove, what in tarnation...? I don't know what you're talking about." Hank scratched his head. "I'm going to get our dog back. Where does this Simmons live?" He stalked toward the door, but was surprised when it opened and three women walked in. "Mrs. Norwood? Mrs. Creneling? What are you doing in my apartment?" He didn't know the third lady, and didn't feel he should bother addressing her.

"This floor belongs to Her now. We need to let the wild in, and you, Mr. Blevins, are in the way." Elizabeth wore matching robes with Mrs. Creneling and Creech. The second the door was closed behind them, all three opened their garments and dropped their clothes to the floor. Underneath, they were naked with strange black lines and symbols painted onto their pale bodies.

"I... I... I..." Hank stared. He'd never seen three naked women at the same time. Heck, that moment had just doubled the number of bare women he'd seen in his lifetime. Frenetically, his eyes darted, trying to take in every detail. He was so taken by the sight that he didn't notice his wife moving behind him. When she hit him over the head with a stone figurine, he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"It's time to let the wild in, dear." Nora looked to Elizabeth for approval. When she found a smile on the woman's face, Nora's insides practically melted. She wasn't even concerned when her new friends lifted her husband under the arms and dragged him out of the apartment.

~~

December 14, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family and Rosalin Eklund.

It was sometime in the middle of the night when Rosalin awoke. Something scurried about the Kwon living room. She sat up quickly, her hand pulling her revolver from under her pillow. Still wearing her flannel and pants from the day before, she sat on the sofa, also her makeshift bed, and looked about the room. The curtains were open, and the light of the city filled the space. She gave a start when she spotted one of the gargoyles peering in at her. She was almost certain it hadn't been there when she went to sleep. I hate those things. She was tempted to point her gun at it, but she had too much respect for firearms to point at anything she didn't intend to shoot.

There was that sound again. She looked around and saw nothing. She stood and cautiously checked behind furniture and through the doorways. "Rats?" She muttered.

She had her back turned to an armchair when there was a sudden thud, and the chair's springs squealed. Rosalin spun and pointed her revolver. Brian was sitting in the chair, wearing only his briefs and a smug grin. She could see the outline of what looked like a giant, albeit soft, penis through his underwear. Rosalin had heard some women went crazy for large ones. Was that Mrs. Kwon's downfall? Was she one of those women? Had she seen it and seduced her son? Had Brian flaunted it in front of her as he was doing to Rosalin now? She lowered her gun. The size of his penis was all the more striking due to his lean, compact body.

"Not long ago, I wasn't so confident around women." Brian enjoyed the bewildered look on her face as she ogled his dick. "But this building does things to people. Good things."

"How did you get in here without me seeing you?" She pulled her eyes away from his underwear and glanced around the room. There was no way he could cover the distance from the door to the chair without her noticing.

"I'm fleet of hoof." He laughed quietly, holding his flat stomach. "We're safe in this apartment, you can put the gun away."

Begrudgingly, Rosalin stashed her pistol back under her pillow, still sitting on the sofa. "I don't think the police are going to come. Can you get me out of the building?"

"You asked my dad about that. Why would the police come?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Listen, you're part of a cult and... what are you doing?" Her lip twisted in disgust as he lowered his underwear, and his fat cock flopped onto his thigh in full view. She didn't like the look of it. Not one bit. It was too veiny, bulbous, and alien, not at all like the modest members she had seen before. Her eyes were drawn to it like they would be to any catastrophe. She could no more look away than she could turn her head from a train wreck.

"You're boring me with this cult stuff. Whenever I get bored, I jerk myself and... presto, I'm not bored anymore." He pumped his soft cock a few times and let it fall back to his thigh. It was slowly engorging. "So, anytime you say something boring, I'm going to spank it. Cool?"

"Not cool. You can't just touch yourself..." She watched him start to masturbate again. "I'm engaged to be married. You can't..." Rosalin saw his hands speed up. The motion was mesmerizing. "Tell me about your mother."

Brian stopped jerking and let his dick stand by itself. Not fully erect, it tilted to the side like a drunk. "My Mom? What do you want to know?"

"When did you start... doing it with her?" Rosalin watched his dick. It was bobbing arrhythmically on its own, slowly growing. It looked like it was trying to get its balance, becoming more and more upright as the seconds passed. How did Mrs. Kwon put that inside her? She must be some sort of freak.

"It's been weeks. Our family moving here is totally rad." He nodded to himself, picturing the breathtaking, callipygian view when he was lucky enough to be behind his mother. Which was often. "Totally rad."

"Did the cult put you two... together?" Rosalin thought he was probably all the way hard now. She frowned, actively suppressing her flight or fight impulse that came with sharing space with such a horrific penis. Suddenly, he was masturbating again. She gave a little shriek. "I mean... did she seduce you?" She exhaled with relief when he unhanded the organ.

"I seduced her. Ha!" He barked out a laugh. "You thought I was a loser when we were hanging out. I'm not. I'm going to have so many women. And I'm going to knock up Mom. I'll have a new sister. A goddess." He stretched out his arms and clasped his hands behind his head, pleased with himself. "The Goddess."

"Did the... um..." Rosalin didn't want to mention the cult again. Every time she did that, he jerked his giant cock. She had to be careful. "Who told you this? About the... special baby?"

"The voice in the basement." Brian shrugged.

"Elizabeth Norwood?"

"Her too." He nodded.

"So, it's not Mrs. Norwood speaking to you in the basement?" Rosalin could at least puzzle some of the mysteries of the cult if she kept him talking.

"The Goddess speaks to me through Her roots. Their voices sound almost the same, but it's Ogganse in the basement." He reached down and played with his foreskin, stretching it out, and pushing his fingers underneath.

Rosalin shivered with revulsion, but at least he wasn't pumping it. "Is that the same goddess that... um... will be your sister?" She bit her lip when she saw him nod an affirmative. "Well... then... if she's around now... in the roots as you say... why does she need to be born... to... um... you and your mother?" Maybe she could talk him into some sense.

"Boring!" He pumped his dick again, really going at it this time.

"I think you should know... your cult is leaderless now." Again, Rosalin was having a damned hard time looking away. "I shot her yesterday." What would Dave say if he could see me now? He hated that I had always felt driven to confront evil. He had nightmares about my trip into the den of the Bloomfield Killer. If I make it out of here, I don't think I'll tell him about this. He's too good a person to be tainted by -

"You're lying." Brian jerked his dick even more fiercely, sitting up and then leaning forward. Anger colored and creased his otherwise pale, smooth face. "Elizabeth's fine. I would know if something happened to her. The building would know."

"Don't be so certain..." Rosalin's hand crept under her pillow. "She's made you believe in strange things. But everything has an explanation."

"I don't even know if I want you in my bevy!" He spat the words. He let go of his dick with one hand, but continued to pump with the other. "I don't see how you fit with Her." He leapt up into the air, latching onto the ceiling with his free hand and his bare feet. He looked down at her with savage indignation, still jerking his cock. "I'll talk to Her tomorrow. She'll tell me Elizabeth's fine. She'll tell me what to do with you." With that he awkwardly crawled along the ceiling, masturbating the whole way. He disappeared through the top of the doorway.

Rosalin was petrified. She stared at where the eighteen-year-old had disappeared. Her mind searched for an explanation, but found none. Teenagers didn't crawl along the ceiling in defiance of gravity. Not in her experience. Something was very wrong. She prayed that she was still under the effects of the drugs Elizabeth must have given her. That was the only thing that made any sense. Maybe I imagined him? Maybe this was a nightmare? No, that wasn't the case. She turned her head and saw his underwear on the floor in front of the armchair, right where he'd left them.

Rosalin didn't fall back asleep that night. She sat on the sofa with her gun on her lap, listening for the sounds of someone creeping along the ceiling and wondering what would become of her.

~~

May 6, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

"Joe asked me to prom." Hani sat at the dinner table with her family eating breakfast. She got almost no response. Her father continued to look at the newspaper. Her mother was daydreaming, staring out the window, and didn't respond. Her brother was the only one that seemed to hear her, and rather than congratulations, he gave her a frown. "I said yes," Hani added.

"He shouldn't have you." Abshir adjusted his glasses and deepened his frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hani didn't like the person her brother had become. "Joe's hot and funny and smart and..." She turned toward her mom. "... he has a huge cock."

"What did you say?" Uba blinked and focused on her daughter. "What did she say, Taban?"

"Mmm?" Taban didn't look up from the paper.

"I got invited to prom." Hani smiled sweetly at her mother.

"Was it Joey?" Uba frowned.

"Who else?" Hani stood. "I don't know what's wrong with this family. You should all be happy for me."

"No one cares about prom. By the time it rolls around, you won't even remember Joe." Abshir ate an orange slice noisily.

"Ugh. That's idiotic." Hani walked away from the table.

Uba noticed that Abshir's gaze fell to his sister's butt. This concerned her. But she didn't have the foggiest notion what to do about it. She supposed if she kept draining him, he would have less bandwidth to sexualize his twin sister. She chewed on her lower lip. The thought was unnerving. But she knew she needed the scent of his seed. She had hidden her defiled hijab in the closet last night, and the anticipation of getting it out after her family had left for the day made her head swim and... if she was honest... her vagina swim, too. That moment couldn't arrive fast enough. Uba stood and collected her daughter's dishes.

"Nah, Mom. Dad should clear the table." Abshir waved a finger at her.

Uba put the dishes back down on the table, unsure of what to do.

"Clear the table, Dad." Abshir put authority into his voice.

Taban put down the paper, stood, and looked quizzically at his son. Slowly, he walked around the table, passing his wife. He stood next to Abshir for a moment, lifted his hand, and swatted the top of Abshir's head.

"Ow! What the hell, Dad?" Abshir covered his hair from further attack.

"Watch how you talk to me." Taban's eyebrows knitted in anger. "You clean the table." He looked to his wife. "Don't do any dishes this morning. Make Abshir do them before school. I have to go to work." He turned and walked away.

"I'm sorry, Abshir. You have to do the dishes." She saw the dark clouds in her son's expression, and quickly left him to his chores. She found peace and quiet in her bathroom, and only ventured out when she suspected that her family was gone. She checked the apartment to be sure she was alone, then she went straight for the crusty hijab. Unearthing it from the back of her closet like a treasure, she hurriedly undressed and climbed onto her bed. Her eyes rolled back when she stuffed the pungent thing under her nose.

In short order, Uba had one nipple in her mouth while she massaged her clit in furious circles. The dirty hijab was perched on her other breast, well within smelling range. It was paradise. The only shame was that she had to leave for work within the hour. She was determined in the meantime, to burst her mind with as many orgasms as possible. And the first one was just around the corner.

~~

December 14, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family and Rosalin Eklund.

"Good morning, dear." Darby found their guest in the kitchen, sipping coffee. The woman was back to wearing her leather jacket. Rosalin's hair was unbrushed and wild, and her face looked wan. "How did you sleep?"

"We need to get out of this building, Mrs. Kwon." Rosalin was grateful for the weight of her pistol in its shoulder holster. She didn't know what fresh nightmares the day would bring, but she expected several.

Darby laughed like Rosalin had just made a splendid joke. "You're so silly. We're happy here."

"What about your husband? Is Greg happy?" Rosalin watched the smile fade from the woman's face.

"Everything's fine. It's natural for a teenager to assert himself toward his father." Darby poured herself some coffee.

"I'm not talking about the apron or the dishes. I'm talking about what you and Brian do when Mr. Kwon is at work." Rosalin's shoulders bunched. She tried to relax them with several deep breaths. "That's not... natural."

"What's more natural than a mother bonding with her son?" Darby shrugged.

Greg walked into the kitchen wearing a suit and tie. His outfit was sans apron. He kissed his wife on the cheek. "Get that boy to start looking for a job today. It's time he moved out." Greg smiled at his wife, scowled at Rosalin, and rushed out of the apartment. The women were silent until they heard the front door close.

"Where is Brian?" Rosalin shuddered, thinking of the way he'd scurried across the ceiling in the middle of the night. Did I dream that? She didn't think so.

"He's eighteen. He's sleeping in, of course." Darby leaned her butt on the counter and sipped coffee. "I understand that you've been through a lot. I know it must have been hard cooped up in that apartment. And then... the wolf." She shuddered. "Anyhoo, I'm picking up some hostility toward Brian and maybe even myself." Darby stared at her disheveled guest. The woman's skin was pallid, and she had bags under her eyes. Darby thought Rosalin didn't look nearly so regal in the mornings. "We have shown you kindness by bringing you into our home and sharing our special secret with you."

"Many thanks." Rosalin's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I see that look on your face. You think you're a tough girl, huh?" Darby shook her head and sipped her coffee. "When you start dancing to Brian's trumpet, you'll feel differently. You're going to be part of his bevy, whether you realize it or not."

"What... the fuck... is a bevy?" Rosalin looked away from Darby. The fallen mother and housewife had an avid giddiness to her expression that disquieted Roslin.

"A bevy is a group of ladies needed to bring about a particular renaissance." Darby frowned. "Look, I didn't understand before either. Even now, I have a hard time believing our luck. But here we are, in the center of a new era."

"I can't believe my luck." Rosalin sighed. Her inclination was to leave. To get the hell out before Brian woke up and did something worse than defy gravity. But she had a feeling that it was more than drugs that foiled her escape the day before. "This place won't let me leave. Every time I walked down the stairs, I ended up back at the top of the building. The elevator was the same. Also, there was a... forest growing in the stairwell." It was so strange to say it out loud.

"I believe you. This building is miraculous. I mean, can you imagine my surprise to find myself here?" Darby laughed. "Before we moved to 3838 Walnut, I thought incest was disgusting. I thought it was unnatural. I thought... well, I didn't give it much thought beyond that. But now, I've never been happier. And I'm not even jealous of Brian and Sylvie. Or you and Brian. Just wait... just wait until you feel his penis inside you. Woman to woman, let me tell you, Ms. Eklund, there is nothing like being filled by something so perfectly made for conception." She put down her coffee and held her hand in front of her dress, forming a circle with her fingers over her belly. "To feel him erupt right here is like nothing else in the world. It's raw, untamed, and..." She shivered, grinning wildly. "... powerful. So... powerful." A dreamy expression passed over her pretty face. "All you have to do is let the wild in."

"Right..." Rosalin stared at where this woman was indicating on her lower belly. The image of Brian's ugly, giant penis rose in her mind. She pictured it inside this poor woman, stretching her, and defiling her with a deep detonation. "Your phone isn't working. Can you see about getting it fixed?"

"Sure." Darby smiled and picked up her coffee. "I'll talk to Mrs. Creech later today. But all this chatting about Brian has made me a woman possessed. You'll know what I mean soon enough." She winked at Rosalin. "I'm going to go wake him up. I suppose I'll be busy for the next few hours."

"Wait, I..." Rosalin watched her rush off toward her son's room. She shook her head and went about making breakfast. At least Brian would be busy for a while.

~~

May 6, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

Uba skipped work again. She spent most of the morning masturbating. By the time noon rolled around, she found that the hijab didn't smell so fresh. Her last orgasm was weak and pathetic, leaving her craving the ecstasy she'd felt that morning. She dropped the garment in the wash, showered, and ate lunch. There were still a few hours before Abshir got home. She was sure Hani would be off with her boyfriend after school. That gave her time in the afternoon to extract more of her son's precious seed.
It occurred to her that she would need to excite him if it was going to go quickly. The underwear that she owned had certainly failed in that regard last time. So, she left the building and headed for the nearest department store. It was mortifying to buy lingerie, especially knowing that she would have to hide it from Taban. She tried to not see judgment in the eyes of the saleswoman as Uba selected several frilly sets of sexy undies and had them rung up.

Running through busy sidewalks, she raced home with her bags dangling from her arm. She checked the time as she reentered the building, hustling past the horrible image of a wolf-headed man. She veered toward the basement. There was time enough for a quick hand wash and a spin in the dryer.

As she scrubbed the new garments with some detergent in the sink, she looked around the basement. She was alone, but... it felt like she wasn't. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. "Hello?"

It seemed to Uba that a voice was pressing into her mind, but she couldn't hear the words. With it, came the sense of something savage and unrestrained. "Is somebody there?" She rinsed the lingerie and put them in the dryer, eyes nervously darting about the basement. She leaned against the table and crossed her arms, watching the clothes tumble. "How strange that I'm going through so much trouble to look sexy for Abshir," she muttered. "I've never done that for Taban."

"You're a good mother." The clarion voice of a woman filled Uba's ears. The woman continued, "It's more important to be a good mother than a good wife. The future is with Abshir. The past is with Taban."

"What? Hello!?!" Uba jumped, wildly looking about the room. There was nobody there. She didn't hear the voice again. By the time the dryer finished, she had convinced herself that she'd imagined the woman and her strange words.

Time was running out. Soon, Abshir would be home. She needed to be ready to greet him, so she rushed to the elevator and went home.

In her bedroom, she frantically changed out of her clothes. My panties are soaked through. The thought of his semen has me all riled up. She tossed her things into the hamper and put on one of the lingerie sets. It was a ridiculous, impractical two-piece combination of mostly transparent, purple material. Practicality was relative she supposed. It would be effective for sparking the mind of a teenager. So, in this case, it was practical.

After a quick, embarrassing check in the mirror, Uba hustled to her son's room. She pulled off his blanket and stretched out on his sheet. She was on her belly, and she hoped that would do the trick. Abshir had focused mostly on her breasts, but she knew men liked butts, too. She had just posed herself in the perfect position, when she heard the front door open and close. Her heart thudded a steadily increasing beat against her ribs. Her tummy turned over and over. She glanced at her wedding ring and wondered if she should take it off. She decided it would be less faithful to Taban to do this with his ring cast aside, so she left it on.

"Mom, I'm home!" Abshir saw his mother's purse. That meant she was home. She was playing hooky from work again. He took this as a good sign. His dick lurched in his pants.

"In here, Abshir," she called to him.

He dropped his backpack in the kitchen, went down the hall, and opened his door. "Oh... shit." He stopped in the doorway and stared at her ass. "Where did you get the underwear?" The cut of her panties accentuated the flare from her waist out to her hips and the mind-bending curves of her backside.

"I bought them for you." Uba worried her bottom lip. "I'm afraid I'm going to steal your purity again." She pushed her glasses up on her nose and stared at the tent his penis was making in his pants.

"It's cool!" Abshir laughed. "Anyway, if I don't touch it, I can stay pure. It doesn't matter if you jerk me."

"Oh... gosh... I really wish you wouldn't talk like that." She continued to stare.

"Nice." Abshir undressed. She hadn't said 'no'. Ogganse had steered them to a magnificent place. "What... what are you staring at?" He was naked now, standing next to the bed. "Is something wrong with my dick?"

With a shyness that was unusual to her, she sat up and glanced up into his eager face. "There's nothing wrong with it. I mean... it's... really big... but I'm not even looking at that." She beckoned him over, reached out, and held his dick.

Abshir was ready for the handjob to start. But instead, his mother pushed his cockhead up to his lean stomach with one hand and examined his heavy balls with the other. Abshir smirked. What would his father say if he could see the ring he'd given his wife rubbing up against hairy, wrinkly teenage testicles?

"It's just... these are the source of so much magic." She gently massaged one ball and then the other. "They don't look all that appealing, but I always taught you not to judge a book by its cover."

"They are ugly, aren't they?" Abshir studied the loving, dreamy way she was gazing at his balls.

"They are... and they're also lovely. If you only knew what they're capable of." Uba glanced at him nervously, afraid she'd said too much. Still holding his penis out of the way, she turned her attention back to his overripe testicles. "In a way, they're beautiful. My boy has grown up and he's... gorgeous. I want you to know how I feel about you, Abshir. I want you to know that I'm a good mother." It's better to be a good mother than a good wife. With that thought, she leaned forward and sucked his left ball into her mouth. It felt so strange and heavy resting on her tongue. Shock hit her. Why did I do that? Until that moment, she had never thought about putting that particular body part in her mouth. But suddenly, it was happening. Tentatively, she rolled her tongue around it. Soon, she was jerking his penis with her hand while lovingly caressing his ball with her tongue.

Abshir adjusted his glasses and watched the magnificent sight. She hadn't even given him a blowjob yet, and here she was devouring his ugly balls like they were the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. Letting her cross her own bridges, he didn't say anything. He didn't interfere in any way. Instead, he put his hands on his hips and let her explore this newfound pleasure.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 20
Uba personifies a dirty sock.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

December 14, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family and Rosalin Eklund.

The late morning rolled around. Rosalin was trying to read a book, but she was mostly just reading the same page over and over. It was hard to concentrate with the pressure of her imprisonment in 12C and with her cellmates being raving lunatics. The sounds of baboon sex had been coming from Brian's room for hours. Everything about it was wrong. Sons and mothers weren't supposed to do it. It wasn't supposed to go on for more than fifteen minutes. It wasn't supposed to make civilized people devolve into lesser primates. It wasn't supposed to be so violent that one could feel the vibrations of each impact all the way out in the living room. It wasn't...

That's enough! Rosalin stood, pulled out her pistol, and checked that it was loaded and ready. She snapped the cylinder closed and tucked it into her shoulder holster. "We're going to see if I was drugged or what." She flipped on her leather jacket, walked to the front door, and left the Kwons behind. The hall on floor twelve seemed normal enough... except for the faint sound of Darby's muffled hollering coming through the closed door. Rosalin looked around, there was no sign of a wolf, wilderness, or anything off. Just the tasteful Art Deco wallpaper, carpet, and fixtures she expected to find.

Upon entering the stairwell, she was both relieved that she could no longer hear the mating Kwons and filled with anxiety about what she might find. Thankfully, everything seemed normal enough. Her sneakers smacked the stairs as she descended. There was no moss under her feet. No ferns or skeletons of long dead stags. The floors fell in the correct order.

Pausing at the ninth floor, Rosalin pushed open the door. She peered down the empty hall. She vacillated for a second and then decided to check. Sprinting down the hall, she stopped at about the spot where she'd left Elizabeth's corpse. There was no sign that the shooting had happened. No blood. No police tape. Nothing. She looked down the hall to her old apartment. There was no notice on the door asking for a police interview. It was exactly as she'd left it. "This is strange," she muttered.

Rosalin got down on her hands and knees, searching the carpet. There was no trace of Elizabeth. After an exhaustive, fruitless search, she stood. The sudden movement made her dizzy, and she leaned her hand against the wall to steady herself. There was the faint, rhythmic thumping from the Kwons fucking again. Impossible! I'm three floors down. She pulled her hand away from the wall like she'd been scalded. To her horror, the sound of Darby's muffled wailing was in the hall with her. A wave of nausea washed over Rosalin. She turned and walked toward the sound. Somehow, she was on the twelfth floor again, and the Kwons' door stood open right in front of her. She stepped back into the apartment and slammed the door behind her. Confusion reigned. Clutching her hair with both hands, she pushed her back against the front door.

"Oooohhhhh... you're turning me... uuuuggghhh... turning me..." Darby's voice was now only muffled by Brian's flimsy door. "Turning me... inside out... Brian... eeeeeeiiiiiiii."

Rosalin could now hear Brian's grunts as well. His voice was much deeper than usual. Rosalin shook her head, denying the feelings that were seeping into her. "It's disgusting. They're disgusting," she said defiantly to no one.

A knock on the front door made Rosalin jump. Did the wolf decide to show up? She shook her head and stepped away from the door. No, that wasn't it. Wolves didn't usually rap their knuckles gently to be let in. They huffed and they puffed and...

Another knock. The sound of sex continued in Brian's room. Even if they heard the knock, she didn't think the Kwons would come to the door. Rosalin stood and did nothing. The doorbell rang. Slowly, she eased her pistol into her right hand and moved to the door. Just as the doorbell rang again, Rosalin looked through the spyhole to see a well-dressed Asian woman standing there. She was pretty, with black hair in a braid that fell over her shoulder. Rosalin looked over her shoulder. The sounds had quieted in Brian's room, but no one was coming. Gun at the ready, Rosalin opened the door.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I could hear you out in the hall, Darby. Do you think that's what I sound...?" Sylvie stopped talking when she saw that a strange woman had opened the door instead of Darby. "Um... hello." Sylvie eyed the woman. The woman was sweaty, with wild hair and some sort of punk outfit. Her face was pale and Sylvie could tell that the woman might be dangerous. Sylvie nervously pawed the carpet with the toe of her high-heeled shoe. "Hello?" Her rational brain said to flee back to the elevator and visit the Kwons some other time. But the more robust inclination was to see Brian. "May I... come in?"

"Yeah." Rosalin stepped out of the way, closing the door after the woman had entered. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sylvie Kim." Sylvie awkwardly stuck out her hand. She waited a moment. When it went unshaken, she pulled it back. "I'm friends with Darby. With... Mrs. Kwon." Sylvie had been so put off by the woman's slovenly appearance that she hadn't noticed her regal facial features. "Oh..." Sylvie snapped her fingers a few times. "You're Rosalin Eklund. You've finally come to be with Brian. That's great! I guess we're going to be working pretty closely together. You know... um... in his bevy." Sylvie pulled Rosalin's jacket open to get a better view of the woman's flannel shirt. "You have big ones. Bigger than mine. About the same size as Darby's, I think. I can't wait to see them uncovered. I'm sure Brian loves them." Sylvie opened the jacket a little farther, saw the shoulder holster, and bunched her eyebrows in confusion. Slowly, she looked down at the woman's right hand and noticed the gun for the first time. It was so unexpected that her mind hadn't registered it until now. "What... um... what are you going to do with that?" She glanced at the closed front door.

"You don't live in the building?" Rosalin kept her pistol down by her thigh.

"I live on the Upper Eastside." Sylvie could hear the thumping of the headboard in Brian's room. Darby was starting to wail like a wounded animal.

"But you're part of the cult?" Rosalin could tell this poor woman was harmless.

"It's not a cult. It's real magic. And Brian's penis is... well... you know, right?" Sylvie wasn't getting the vibe from this woman that she wanted to be in the bevy. "Can I... can please just go to his room?" Slowly, she edged around Roslin.

"You should run back to the Upper Eastside, Mrs. Kim." Rosalin put her pistol back in its holster.

"I... can't... not until I see Brian." Sylvie rubbed her legs together. "We're going to make music together."

Rosalin watched the woman scurry down the hall. She heard Brian's door slam. Disgusted and bewildered, Rosalin sat in the living room. The thumping stopped, and she was shocked when Brian's trumpet began to play one of his rock songs. "I thought 'making music' was an aphorism," she said to herself. At least it wasn't sex. Maybe it was good that Sylvie had arrived.

Despite all that had happened, Rosalin found herself tapping her foot to the beat. The song went on for a while. Sylvie had said she was going to make music with Brian, but Rosalin only heard the trumpet. Brian finally switched to another song. And another. The music changed her mood. She didn't dwell on the strangeness of the ninth floor. She wasn't thinking about disgusting incest. She stood and started shaking her hips to the beat, taking little dancing steps toward Brian's room.

Curiosity seized Rosalin. She shimmied her way down the hall, bobbing her head and shaking her rump. He's playing his soul out. I didn't know Brian could make music like that. She paused in front of the door, bouncing to the beat. Are the ladies dancing for him? Are they playing some sort of percussion? Without thinking about it, Rosalin put her hand on the doorknob and turned.

Although Brian was still belting out the notes, Rosalin stopped dancing when she peeked into his room. What she saw was so debased, that her mind had hard a time accepting it. It was almost as outlandish as the improbable forest in the stairwell. Darby, Brian, and Sylvie were all naked. Brian stood, his trumpet pressed to his lips. He gyrated his hips in time to the music, making it difficult for the women to stay with him. Both his mother and Sylvie were on their knees. Darby had half his massive cock down her throat. Sylvie was behind him, pressing her face into his ass crack. Rosalin had never imagined such perversion.

Brian saw his reluctant guest at the door. He thrust his hips for her, turning so she could see his rippling abs as he moved. She's not running. She's not pointing her gun. Progress. When he made eye contact with her, she didn't look away. Last night, he'd thought she was too stiff to ever be a part of what She wanted to accomplish. But he could see it in her eyes now. She wanted to let the wild in. She just didn't know how... yet.

~~

May 6, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

Uba felt powerful. Resting on her tongue was a thing of power. Her son's testicles were heavy with their loads. She closed her lips around the wrinkled flesh, trying to gauge how much each held. She was so close to his sperm, an ambrosia that would send her straight to paradise. She wore lingerie for her son. She lovingly sucked his balls. And soon, she would have her reward.

"Let my dick fall, Mom. I want to see it rest on your face." Abshir gazed down at her. He was still waiting for his first blowjob. He supposed he would have to wait a while longer, but that was fine. The way she worshiped his ugly balls was unexpected and titillating. She was still pressing his cockhead to his belly to get it out of the way. "Let it fall."

"Mmmmmppphhhh." She said around his right ball. She slowly lowered his penis until it was resting on her face, pressing against the right lens of her glasses. It's longer than my face! Not for the first time, she wondered how such a garish and dangerous penis could have come from her and Taban's union. Her cheeks heated at the thought of her marriage. She dropped her left hand by her side so that Abshir wouldn't have to look at the ring they were currently desecrating.

"Perfect. This is perfect." Abshir adjusted his glasses and stared at her. Half of her face was blocked by his veiny cock, the other half looked confused and thirsty. He could see the doubt in the one exposed eye, but she continued sucking on his ball nonetheless. "Worship me... Mom." His grin grew wider. "Worship Her... just as She said you would."

Even his blasphemy couldn't get her to stop. And it was true. She was worshipping the power he stored in his testicles. The miraculous seed that sent her to paradise deserved to be praised and maybe even idolized. She shivered at the thought, spat out his ball, and sucked the other one into her mouth. The movement covered up more of her face with his penis. It was absurd letting him rest his thing where it was. But she found that it thrilled her, too.

Abshir let her continue her ball worship for a long while. Eventually, he glanced at the clock. They didn't have forever. His father wasn't ready to find them like this. Neither was Hani. They would be someday soon. But not yet. He wanted her to pump him with her hand while she continued working his balls. But he didn't want to ask her directly for it. He was still trying to guide her toward crossing her own bridges as She wanted. "I don't care if it's impure, I need to fap while you do this." Slowly, he moved his hand toward his cock. Sure enough, she lifted her left hand and slapped his fingers away.

"Mmmmppphhh," Uba said with as much authority as one can muster while swirling a testicle with one's tongue. She narrowed the one eye that was uncovered in a stern way, so he could see that she wouldn't stand for ruining his purity. Not when there was a way to keep it and milk his seed. Her left hand slid easily around his shaft, and she pumped his penis. She was aware that her wedding ring was now pressed against Abshir's turgid flesh at an angle where he couldn't miss the sight of it. It didn't matter anymore. What mattered was finishing him and absconding with his sperm.

"Uuuuggghhhhhhh... Mom... like that... yeah... you're so good at squeezing it... just below the head." Abshir had never seen a more beautiful sight. To pump him, she'd lifted his cock a little off her face, but it was still hanging right above it. The juxtaposition of the frightful dick and her lovely, distorted visage made his mind go fuzzy.

"Mmmppppphhhh!" She was proud that she'd learned the technique just from watching him touch himself. She had learned it so well, he wouldn't have to touch himself anymore. Looking up, she could see the animal urge to erupt building in him. "Eeerrmmmmm?" She asked. The head of his penis was just above her hairline. She couldn't let him spray his stuff in her hair. That would make a terrific mess, and she wasn't sure how well she could huff the stuff if it was all up there. She spit out the testicle, but kept pumping him with her left hand. "You're close, right? We need a sock."

"I want to... uuughhh... cum on your tits," Abshir said.

"Oh... my gosh... you did not just say that to me." Uba was going to offer some sort of other protest, but she saw clarity return to his expression. His orgasm was moving farther away. In desperation, she rose up higher, squatting in front of him so that her breasts were level with his bloated penis. She still wore her lingerie, and that was a big win. She had bought it to entice him to explode without her having to get naked, and she was very close to that goal. "Fine... go on then... I bought this underwear for you. You might as well make it dirty." And if he sprayed her breasts, she would be able to sniff his semen just fine.

"I'm going to make you... dirty... Mom." Abshir's body trembled.

"Um... okay... okay then... I suppose you are." She increased the tempo of her pumping and added her other hand. She worked hard for several minutes, but he didn't explode. Her arms were getting tired. Looked down at his penis, she realized he was dry. "I'm sorry! I forgot to make it wet. That must be uncomfortable." She stopped pumping, dropped some unladylike dollops of saliva onto his penis, and went back to her motions. She cringed at the squelching sounds, but he seemed to like it. "Go ahead now. Do you like my breasts, sweetheart? You can finish on them. Just finish... just... please... finish." Her arms burned with the strain of coaxing out his seed. "Please..."

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Abshir arched his back and sprayed his mother.

"Oh! Oh... gosh," Uba said. After that, she closed her mouth because he was blasting sperm so violently that she couldn't control the trajectory, and it was splashing her face as well as her upper chest. She held onto his thing, desperately trying to aim it, but it jerked in her hands each time he spasmed like a vicious, spitting serpent. By the time he was done groaning and shuddering, she had her eyes closed. His hot sticky stuff was all over the front of her. She reached her hands up to her face tentatively and felt around. After all that, she even ended up with some in her hair.

"That... was... awesome." Abshir looked down at her. He felt like a conquering hero. A moony smile took over his face. He watched her wipe her eyes clean with the back of her hand. She was breathing deeply and visibly trembling. "I feel... pure... Mom."

"That's good... Abshir." Uba stood. Her legs shook and her mind buzzed. The pungent, fruit scent was getting to her. She could taste his salt on her lips. Oh, no, I'm tasting his sperm. It wasn't ever supposed to get that far. "I want you... to be pure." My son is pure, while I'm being turned into a dirty sock. And the worst of it is, I don't know how I feel about it. She wobbled to the door without looking back at him. "Must... clean... your dirty sock... now." She stumbled into the hall.

"What... sock?" Still smiling, he watched her go.

Uba didn't answer her son. She made her way to the bathroom and closed the door. Leaning her butt against the door, her hand was instantly in her panties. Her other hand lifted her boob to her face, so she could inhale deeply. A minute later, she found herself having another taste of her son's stuff. She licked his salty, cooling sperm greedily off her upper breasts, shuddering as she swallowed. I'm going too far. But it didn't stop her from thoroughly cleaning her boobs. By the time her first orgasm rolled through her, she was frantically sucking his sperm out of the fabric of her bra.

As she descended from paradise, it was clear to Uba that she was lost. Wonderfully, hopelessly lost. She was in a wilderness of pleasure, and she didn't want to find her way home.

~~

May 7, 2015: Apartments 12C and 12E, the Dahir and Marland families.

"Hey, Abshir. How's it going?" Joe was holding Hani's hand as they entered the lobby. Usually, Abshir returned home from school slower than Joe and Hani. But today, he was ahead of them, waiting for the elevator.

Abshir glanced at his neighbor and sister, rolled his eyes, and jogged for the stairs.

Joe watched his former friend's backpack bounce as Abshir hoofed it through the stairwell entrance. Joe couldn't help but take off after him. It was a chase, and that was something he couldn't miss. His girlfriend, however, could. She held firmly to his hand with surprising strength, anchoring him to the lobby floor. They screeched to a halt in front of the carving of the sacrificial stag. Joe looked back at her quizzically.

"Don't give me that look, dude. 'What am I doing'? What the fuck are you doing chasing my weirdo brother?" She pulled him back as some other tenants walked by. She glanced at them. They were a mother and her adult son holding hands. She looked quite regal, and he was handsome. She guessed he was about twenty years old. Hani looked back into Joe's eyes. "So? What are you doing?"

"I... um... thought it would be fun to take the stairs." Joe smiled.

Hani patted his cheek like her boyfriend was a simpleton. "That would not be fun. Let Abshir do the weirdo stuff. Stay with me, please."

"Yeah, sure." Joe gave one wistful look at the stairs. I could have caught him. He let Hani pull him to the elevator. The other tenants were holding the door for them. "Thanks! I'm Joe Marland on twelve. This is Hani Dahir... also on twelve." He had been so shy before moving to the building, but that had changed completely. His smile was warm and open. He stepped into the elevator, still holding Hani's hand.

Hani saw the woman, who was maybe in her forties, looking at their clasped hands. "We don't live together on twelve. Different apartments. It's not like a 'help me step-bro, I'm stuck in the shower' kind of thing. We're not related."

"Hello, I'm Ms. Eklund, and this is my son Steven." Rosalin's smile was a bit wooden. She knew exactly who Joe was, and it made her uncomfortable. She gripped her son's hand tighter and pulled his hip closer to hers. "How are you two enjoying the building?"

Steven winked at Hani.

Hani stared at Steven, trying to make him uncomfortable. The elevator doors closed. After a few moments, Steven averted his gaze. Hani smiled in triumph.
"Um..." Joe watched the exchange with an amused grin on his face. "We like the building. It brought us together."

"Are you sure you should be mixing?" Steven said without looking at them.

"Steven!" Rosalin frowned at her son. "I'm sorry." She looked at the young couple and saw the hurt in their eyes. "He wasn't talking about your skin color. He was talking about the wolf and stag."

"Like in the lobby?" Joe cocked his head.

If it was possible, Hani upped the intensity of her stare into Steven's soul. It was difficult with his eyes directed elsewhere.

The elevator stopped and chimed on nine. The doors slowly opened.

"I'm sorry." Rosalin stepped out of the elevator, pulling her son. "Steven shouldn't have said that, but..." She looked back at the teenagers. "It always ends in tragedy."

"What does?" Joe furrowed his brow, perplexed. He was starting to wonder how many people in his building were racists.

"I can't say more." Rosalin glanced at her son and back to the elevator as the doors closed. "Resist Her if you can."

The doors closed.

"Talk about weirdos." Joe tried to laugh it off, but he could see the dark clouds that had passed over his girlfriend's mood. As the elevator continued with its ascension, Joe picked her up, holding her like a bride about to cross the threshold of their new home. "If by tragedy, she means out-of-this-world orgasms, then I'm afraid that is how it will end for you today, my dear."

"Oh, no. You're a weirdo, too!" Hani smiled. "But if I have to, I will bear that tragedy." The elevator chimed, and the doors opened to twelve. "Take me to your room and make me your woman. I'll be your out-of-her-mind, tragic woman." She kissed him on the lips as he carried her down the hall. They laughed together as they stumbled into his apartment.

"Hello, Joey. Hi, Hani." Carrie was sitting in the living room, looking at her phone and chewing on her nails. She put the phone away and dropped her hand to her lap. When they came into the room with Hani in his arms, she couldn't help but smile at young love. "You two certainly do look nice together. Hani, you fit so nicely in Joey's arms." Her belly flipped as she took in how young, vital, and beautiful the eighteen-year-olds were. She blushed when she realized how her comments might be construed as dirty. "I suppose you two are off to do homework."

"Yep, I'm going to study hard." Joe lowered his hand, so that he was supporting Hani by gripping her ass. He saw his mother staring at the move, but neither woman protested. He squeezed Hani's cheek a few times and pecked her on the lips. "Really hard."

"Yes, I see." Carrie could see his large penis bulging his pants right under where he held Hani's butt. It was mesmerizing to think about the kind of joy those two would have together. She would need to get out the Kama Sutra oil later that night and seduce her husband. Her whole body vibrated as she watched the teenagers rush off to Joe's room.

There were no good excuses for listening at her son's door. She believed him when he told her they weren't having sex. She often heard Hani's muffled jokes about her son's penis and how it wouldn't fit. Carrie knew he pleasured her in other ways. As she pressed her ear to the door, she could hear Hani already moaning. I can't believe she squirts from her vagina. It was clear that the incident wasn't a one-time thing, she heard them talking about it in his room often enough. She must be built so very differently from me. But even as she said it, she could feel that she wasn't totally dry down there. It was so strange, listening to the teenagers made her wetter than doing her marital duties with Gabe.

"Ooooohhhhhhh... Joe... I'm gushing... what a... tragedy!" Hani's voice was hard to miss, she was speaking loudly.

Carrie frowned. Did the young woman think it a tragedy that she was always so wet? Carrie couldn't very well talk to anyone in church to get advice. She knew from experience that Uba wouldn't be receptive to such a conversation about her daughter. But Carrie was becoming very fond of her son's girlfriend. If there was something troubling Hani, Carrie wanted to help. Even if it was about sex... with Joe. Carrie shuddered as she listened to Hani's moans spiral louder.

It was so strange that Joe and Hani didn't put in more of an effort to keep things quiet when they knew she was home.

"Damn... Hani... you're cumming... you're cumming." Joe's voice was deep and urgent.

"Nnnnngggggggg," was Hani's reply.

Carrie's eyes went wide. Oh, my! Tragedy or not, Hani certainly does seem to be enjoying herself. Carrie put a hand to her chest, her heart swelling with pride. She would never have thought that she'd ever be a proud mother about one of her offspring's sexual abilities, but there it was. She was a beaming mother.

After several minutes, Carrie could hear that they were switching to Joe's pleasure. She listened to his low gruntled sounds and Hani's often profane encouragement. Carrie rubbed her legs together, trying not to let it affect her too much. After several more minutes, Carrie moved away from the door and hustled to the master bathroom. She needed a cold shower. After that, her foggy mind would clear up. Any residual heated feelings would have to wait until she could channel them into a romantic night with her husband.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 21
Rosalin learns Baby Got Back.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

December 14, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family and Rosalin Eklund.

"Look what I brought home." Greg pulled a three-foot Christmas tree in through the front door. "I was thinking we could invite Rachel over and decorate it tomorrow." He was still wearing his suit from work, his tie flipped over his shoulder. He put his briefcase down, leaned the tree against the wall, and took off his shoes. "Darby? Brian? Where is everyone?" He walked into the kitchen to find their houseguest leaning against the counter, holding his World's Greatest Dad mug in her hand. "Why are you still here?" He said.

"I suppose the building wants me here." Rosalin eyed the man. She thought about telling him, or at least giving him some sort of warning. He won't believe me. I can see it in his eyes.

"Is your apartment on nine still not fixed?" Greg walked over to her, took the mug from her hands, and dumped the coffee into the sink. "Darby?" He called into the apartment, while washing the mug in the sink with soap and a sponge.

"I'm here, Greg." Darby strolled into the kitchen, adjusting her oversized sweater like she'd just slipped it on. Her legs were bare, and the sweater hung down just far enough to hide her panties. "What did you bring home?" Her eyes were distant and dreamy.

"Why aren't you wearing pants?" Greg stared at his wife's milky legs. He hadn't thought about it for a long while, but she was an attractive woman.

"I'm sorry, Greg. I missed your question." Darby glanced at Rosalin. The woman looked ashen and disheveled. Her blond hair was messily coming out of its braid. Her lip was curled in disgust as she returned Darby's gaze.

"I... um... forgot." Greg put the mug on the drying rack and reached for a dishtowel to dry his hands, all the while staring at his wife.

"Well, I remember my question, silly." Darby giggled. "And you didn't answer it." She hoisted herself up on the counter, crossing her legs in a showy display. She made sure not to give her husband a peek of her panties. She was without a doubt still leaking Brian's stuff. If Greg saw that saturated cotton... well... Darby didn't know what he'd do. "What did you bring home?"

Greg ogled his wife's legs. How had he ignored her for so long? "Oh... um... a Christmas tree. It's by the front door." He waved in that general direction without looking.

Rosalin studied each side of the Kwon marriage. Both husband and wife looked like they were on drugs. Being locked in her own apartment was crazy. But having to share space with the Kwons was deranged. And the building that kept spitting her back up to the top was beyond all of that. Put it all together, and she was feeling attenuated with reality. "If I might? I have a question that -"

"What a rad day!" Brian walked into the kitchen wearing only tight sweatpants. Even though he was soft, he was sure the pants showed off his dick well. This thought was confirmed when all three sets of eyes turned toward him and ended up fixated on his crotch. "Fuckin A, man. I feel so good." He flexed, showing off his washboard abs and other lithe muscles. "Go out and pick us up some dinner, Dad." He smiled at his father.

"Right, okay." Greg turned to go.

"Wait!" Brian said.

Greg stopped.

"I want barbeque from that place we went to on my birthday." Brian moved over next to his mother, pulled her off the counter, and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, I like their bulgogi." Darby wrapped her arm around her son's waist and melted into him.

"But that'll take me over an hour to get there and back." Greg turned. His body tensed when he saw how his family was standing hip to hip.

"You better go hella fast then." Brian shrugged and kissed his mother on the cheek.

"I guess." Greg frowned at them. He took a few hesitant steps toward the door while looking back. He then turned and sprinted out of the apartment.

Brian laughed.

"I hope you didn't send him there to be mean." Darby's dreamy expression was finally dissipating.

"I sent him there so that I could do this." Brian lowered his sweatpants and stepped out of them. He wasn't wearing underwear. He put his hand on top of his mother's shiny, black hair and slowly pushed her down to her knees. By the time Darby got hold of it, his dick was already swelling. "And we needed to give Sylvie a chance to avoid the walk of shame," Brian said.

"Mmmmmpphhhh," Darby agreed. She already had his dick halfway down her throat, bobbing with enthusiasm.

"Oh... my... God. You two are animals." Rosalin stared at the horrible, debasing blowjob. This poor delicate woman had become her son's willing sex slave. And they had no shame. "Stop... just... stop."

Brian winked at Rosalin. He had seen the way she'd responded to his music earlier. "Hey, Sylvie, my dad's gone. You can leave." He called toward his room. "And bring my trumpet."

"No... no..." Rosalin couldn't shoot them. But she could resort to violence. She was bigger than them, and she knew how to use her body. She couldn't let them continue to turn themselves into beasts. The cult couldn't win. "I told you to stop." She took one big step over to mother and son, shoving Brian in the chest and pulling Darby backward by her hair.

With a gurgling plop, mother and son separated. Brian's now fully hard dick, wobbled out in the open. Its dark veins and ruddy, knobby head looked even more garish shining with Darby's saliva.

"What... the fuck?" Brian stared at the woman as she dragged his mother backward over the kitchen floor.

"Hey... stop..." Darby reached up as she was scooted back on her butt. She pulled at Rosalin's fingers, but couldn't weaken the woman's grasp.

"I'm not letting you go." Rosalin backed up against the wall, still holding the squirming Darby, who was seated next to her. "Now, we're going to stop all this perversion. Got it? This isn't you. You've been programmed by Elizabeth. But she's gone now. If you keep doing this stuff you're going to regret -"

"Here's the trumpet. I..." Sylvie walked into the room. She was clean and dressed, ready to go home. She held the trumpet in her hand and looked from Brian's penis, to Darby's struggles, to Rosalin's menacing body language, and back to Brian's glistening penis. "What... um...?"

"Go home, Mrs. Kim." Brian took the trumpet from Sylvie and slapped her on the rump, getting her moving in the direction of the front door.

"Okay... I can't come back tomorrow, I have to be at a soccer game, but... maybe..." Sylvie's eyes circumnavigated the room again.

"You can call me later, Mrs. Kim." Brian pointed toward the front door. "You need to go."

Without another word, Sylvie hustled away and left the apartment.

"Now, are you prepared to be reasonable?" Rosalin reached under her leather jacket with her free hand, her fingers coming to rest on her pistol's grip. She wasn't going to shoot him, but she might need to threaten him. "You're eighteen and you're impressionable. The cult planted ideas in your head." She glanced down at Darby, who was futilely kicking the floor with her bare feet as she struggled. "I don't know what your excuse is, Mrs. Kwon. But I know..."

Brian put the trumpet to his lips and played Baby Got Back.

"I know... um..." Rosalin's hand moved away from her gun. She found her hips shaking side to side in rhythm to the song. "What... um... what is this music?" She let go of Darby and moved away from the wall, shimmying in her socks around the kitchen floor.

"Oh... this is a good song. It's about ladies' butts." Darby rubbed her head where her scalp stung from Rosalin's grasp. With the music bouncing around the kitchen and swelling inside her, it was easy for Darby to forgive Rosalin. Slowly, Darby rose to her feet and started dancing, too. Her style was more flamboyant and undulating than Rosalin's tame shimmying. "You should hear the words sometime. It's a hoot. Brian has played it for me before and then I shake my booty for him." Darby lifted her sweater, exposing her panty-covered ass, and shook her butt at Rosalin.

"This music... this music..." Rosalin felt she ought to be disgusted, but she laughed instead. She lifted her leather jacket, turned, and shook her jean-clad ass at Darby. They both put their hands on their knees and bounced to the beat.

Brian played his heart out. He was starting to understand more about the world. The roots of the building had told him that music held power, but he didn't know how powerful it could be. Thank you, Ogganse. He thrust his hips and swayed as he played, his dick flopped around with his movements like it was alive. It was time to switch things up. He moved from Baby Got Back to Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover.

Rosalin stopped shaking her booty. Or, at least, she no longer made it her singular focus. Sweaty and hot, she took off her leather jacket and whipped it over her head. Her shoulder holster was now on full display, but she didn't even think about hiding it. She shimmied and slid, moving with and around Darby, having a sort of physical back and forth with the wilder dancer without touching.

"Let the wild in... Ms. Eklund... this is what it's like being in the bevy." Darby backed herself up on her son, so that his penis bounced off her sweater over her rump. "Only... when you're finally Brian's, it's even better. It takes over. You'll think about nothing else. You'll want nothing else. And you'll help us bring a goddess into the world."

"That is... some... insane shit." Rosalin wasn't lying, but she also wasn't slowing down with her dancing. She tossed her jacket onto a chair. Sweat dripped off her nose as she made some serious moves on the kitchen floor. She hadn't danced like that since her cousin's wedding. David had been with her, jiving next to her. Now he was somewhere else, and she was with Brian and his mother. And it was so hot. She unbuttoned the top of her flannel. When Darby bopped away from her son, Rosalin found herself turning to take her place. His penis is so heavy! The knobby head of Brian's dick thumped hard against the back of her jeans as she backed up into him, gyrating to the music.

Darby danced up to Rosalin and caressed her cheeks. Her guest's face was rosy and flushed, covered in perspiration. Rosalin had looked so frazzled not long ago, so wan, but now Darby thought she was brimming with life again. As they boogied in unison, Darby took a handful of Rosalin's hair and turned her to face Brian. She met no resistance. Rosalin turned, and Brian continued to blow his trumpet.

"Wait... I... um..." Rosalin was lost in the music. She let Darby push her head down. Even as Rosalin lowered to her knees, she was bobbing to the music. Suddenly, she was eye to eye with Brian's bouncing, destroyer of a cock. It was even more worrisome looking at it up close. The veins were so dark they were almost black. The head had the most aggressive shape Rosalin had ever seen. "I'm... engaged... to David." But the music carried away her misgivings just as it lifted her soul.

Brian slowed down his hips to steady his cock right in front of Rosalin's pretty nose. He changed songs again, moving on to Smells Like Teen Spirit.

"That's right. Now you're getting it." Darby swayed to the song, standing behind Rosalin. She smiled and nodded at her son. She knew they were thinking the same thing. All the pieces were coming together. Moving Rosalin's head in time to the music, she pressed forward and brought the woman's regal lips in contact with her son's cock.

"Shit... shit..." Rosalin let the massive cockhead press against her lips. It left something warm and salty behind. Was that precum? He's dripping with the stuff. After everything that had happened, she would have thought that her capacity to be surprised had diminished. But she was shocked into a kind of paralysis, meeting Brian's monstrosity up close. She could have easily pushed back on Darby and removed herself from the situation, but she let the woman maneuver her. Rosalin closed her lips tight as Brian's cock pressed up against her face again, leaving another warm, sticky trail from her nose across her cheek. "It's... huge."

"No duh, Ms. Eklund. He's not like any man you've been with before." Darby swayed to the beat, still holding Rosalin's blond hair. With her other hand, Darby grabbed Rosalin's strong jaw and opened her mouth wide. "It's time to learn about bevy life, sweetie," Darby cooed, aiming Rosalin's gaping maw at Brian's penis. When the head was past her lips, Darby let go of the woman completely to let nature take over. Dancing behind the incipient blowjob, Darby watched as Rosalin tentatively put her trembling hand on Brian's shaft and bobbed her head to the song's rhythm.

"Mmmmpphhh." Rosalin was only sucking on the head, but her mouth had never been so full. Even in her inebriated state, it was pathetically obvious that she shouldn't be doing this. It should sicken her to pleasure an eighteen-year-old. She caught a glimpse of her engagement ring clutching his throbbing, steely flesh. That did disquiet her. She doused that feeling by closing her eyes, but she didn't stop. The music compelled her onward. She could feel Brian's desire for her in the tempo of the notes he played. It thrilled her. She'd often felt sexy and desired while doing this for David's normal-sized penis. Sucking Brian's dick was more than sexy. She felt like a goddess. She was worshiping him, and he was worshiping her. She didn't even really consider what his mother was doing, dancing somewhere behind her. Her hands started to pump the shaft as she grew less timid.

Brian wanted to verbally welcome his latest doe to the bevy. He wanted to congratulate her, to taunt her, to tell her how special their babies would be. But he didn't dare remove the trumpet from his lips. She was hooked, but he knew she could easily wriggle away. And if that happened, they would be worse off than before. And... she still had that gun under her arm. So, he continued to beguile her with music. Pleasure slowly moved through him. He was used to his mother's all-out, wild blowjobs. Rosalin was timid, and she used too much teeth. He found himself enjoying the thought of her doing it more than the actual blowjob. But that was okay, it was a very compelling thought. He'd been lusting after her even before she'd rebuffed that kiss in the basement so long ago. And now, here they were.

A little less than an hour later, Greg returned with dinner. "I'm sorry if it's cold, I had a long way to go." Without asking, he put on an apron and served Brian, Darby, and Rosalin at the dinner table. Brian and Darby were holding hands on top of the table, talking about that bevy game of Brian's again. Rosalin sat very still, staring blankly ahead. Greg didn't worry himself over their guest. Maybe she'd had a rougher day than him, although he doubted it. Either way, she'd be out of their hair soon enough. He'd make Darby promise to send their guest packing tomorrow.

Rosalin barely touched her food. She wasn't hungry. Her stomach kept roiling every time she thought of how much sperm was in there. She watched the Kwons eat their barbeque. She nodded and offered a faint smile when spoken to, but didn't utter any words. After the blowjob, after she'd sucked Brian's teenage balls dry, she'd let Darby remove her shoulder holster. Her gun was hanging in the closet now. That seemed like a big step in her move toward staying with the Kwons. She glanced at Brian out of the corner of her eye. He had seduced her with his trumpet. It was the darndest thing.

~~

September 15, 1940: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"I need a stag and a wolf." Elizabeth lay on her mossy bed. She was naked, as was her habit on the fourteenth floor. In supine poses around her, were her acolytes. Natalie, Nancy, and Nora were naked as well. While Elizabeth's fair skin was unblemished in the morning light, the others wore black lines and symbols on their bodies. Much of that had been smudged during the night's activities.

"Like from the story you saw in the statue?" Natalie leaned up on an elbow and gazed adoringly at her mistress. "Did She speak to you again?"

"I hear Her, but She speaks only silence." Elizabeth sat up and held her breast, looking out her window at the city of trees rising high into the air. "It doesn't matter. I know what She wants. And I know When she wants it. The doe must conceive under the right moon. We have years to wait, but we should start preparing now."

"What do you need, mistress?" Nora petted Elizabeth's slender calf with saccharine affection.

"I need you to lie on your back. I will sit on your face while I do my morning prayers." Elizabeth stretched, her heavy breasts rising and falling on her chest.

Nora rushed to get on her back on the soft moss. "Praise Ogganse. May She return to mmmmmppphhhhhh." She reached up and held Elizabeth's perfectly round ass cheeks as the woman settled her vagina on Nora's lips.

Natalie and Nancy moved to their knees on either side of Elizabeth, bowing repeatedly.

Elizabeth started the chant. "Uuuuggghhhh... ooo... ooo... uuuuuugghhh... ooo... ooo... nnnnngggaaaaaa... Ogganse!" She held her hands up to the ceiling which was still plaster, but had the quality of mottled leaves.

"Oooo... nnnngggaaa... oh... oh... nnnngggaaaa... uuuuggghhhhhh... ugh... ugh... ooooooooo... Ogganse!" Natalie and Nancy said in melodic harmony. They continued to bow in a rhythmic motion, their breasts jerking and bouncing as they rapidly vied with gravity.

"Mmmpphhhh... mmpphhhhh... mmpph... mmpph." Nora said into her mistress's vagina. Whenever they did this, she tried her best to please and to pray.

The women prayed like that for a while. Eventually, Elizabeth's orgasm welled in her like a soaring phoenix. Her eyes rolled back, and she held her arms higher, imploring the heavens. "Uuuuggghhh... uuuuuugggghhhhh... Ogganse! Ooooo... oh... oooo... oh... eeeeeiiiiiiiiii!" She shuddered and shook, her wide hips and narrow waist undulating on top of Nora. When she was done, she climbed off the woman and stood on the loamy floor of her bedroom. Sweat trickled down her spine, running along the arch of her back. She shivered. "Bernard! Come in here and dress us. I want to walk the building and think on things."

Nora sat up slowly, sucking in oxygen.

Natalie and Nancy sprang from the bed and toweled off their mistress.

"So, are we to have deer in the building?" Natalie was unsure how that would work.

"I'm still thinking. We will make room for the spirits of these animals to roam the halls. We will invite them in. But... actual deer would be hard to control. Wolves even more difficult. We would have to exert our influence over them to make sure the conditions were right. We would have to take the wild out of the animals to do this."

"We have a building full of people. We can manipulate them. I don't know what Her magic is capable of..." Nancy smiled at her mistress, kissed Elizabeth's full breast, and gave a curtsy. "But look at me. Look at Mrs. Creech and Mrs. Creneling." She gestured at the woman climbing out of bed with Elizabeth's juices on her face and wilderness in her eyes. "If we cannot domesticate deer and please Her, maybe we can let the wild back into man."

"Her magic is capable." Elizabeth nodded. She ignored Bernard when he opened the door and hustled into the room carrying pressed dresses for all four women. He hung three dresses from a branch, and moved over to Elizabeth deferentially. She moved when needed to let him put her underthings on. Her smile was fixed on Nancy. "You're a clever, pretty thing. We'll turn young men into stag and wolf. We'll turn the stag's mother into a breeding doe. We will provide him with a bevy of does. And when the time is right, we will let the wolf have him. And the time does have to be right. I can feel it. The stag must die right before the Goddess's birth. Then, the Goddess will kill the wolf."
"And what of the wolf's mother?" Natalie eyed her husband as he finished dressing Elizabeth. He didn't look at his wife. He never made eye contact anymore. Natalie figured that was for the best. The covenant she'd made with him had been sundered months ago. "Will the wolf lie with his mother, too?"

"No!" Elizabeth, dressed now, strolled to the window and looked out at the forest. "He is a wolf. He should be cunning, clever, and charming. So, we will give him the tools to lie with women and feel his wolfish nature. But the whole point of Her story is that the love of the stag for his mother is what brought the Goddess into our world the first time. We might push others in the building to find those bonds in their own families... but we won't guide our wolf in that direction. We know nothing of the wolf's mother in the story. It would anger Her to join them."

"Yes, of course." Natalie bowed her head. She lifted a leg, helping her husband dress her. "How do we find a stag and a wolf?"

Elizabeth smiled, a plan coming into her mind. "For starters, I think the building will need a new manager."

~~

May 11, 2015: Apartment 12E, the Dahir family.

"Mmmmpppphhhhh." Uba was dressed in pink lingerie. She thought it looked ridiculous on her dark skin, but ridiculous was in vogue in her life now. After all, it didn't get any more absurd than rolling your tongue around your son's huge testicle while pumping him with your right hand. And that's just what she was doing. It was Monday, and she had gone without his seed over the weekend. This made her desperate to draw it out. "Mmmppphhhhhh!" Her glasses were fogging up, but still, she looked up at his blurred, blissful grin.

"Use your left hand on my dick. I want to see your ring." Abshir stood with his hands on his hips. He was naked, with his school clothes strewn around him on his bedroom floor.

"Mmmmm?" She had been keeping her left hand down by her side to hide the ring from him. She had wrongly assumed that he wouldn't want to see it. That if he saw it, guilt would cause him to lose his erection. She had been wrong. As she traded hands, making sure to angle her pumps so he could see the ring, she could feel his ball contract with excitement in her mouth.

"Damn... Mom... so hot." Abshir adjusted his glasses and looked down at his mother's beautiful, heart-shaped face. She was going to be his dirty sock again. "I'm... about to... cum." He extended his hands down by his sides, his fingers wiggling in the air. His back arched.

Uba spit out his ugly testicle and rose on her knees. The last few times she'd made him release, she had gotten better at aiming his seed. She knew he liked it on her breasts, and that was convenient for her to smell... and taste his seed when she rushed off to the bathroom. "Go ahead and finish on Mommy's breasts, sweetheart. Let it all out. We don't want you backed up, and you went the whole weekend without an ejaculation."

"Fuck... Mom!"

"Oh... no..." She frowned. His language was getting worse. She would have to figure out how to rein in his wild side as she continued his daily releases. At present, she didn't have time to think on it further. Her eighteen-year-old son began spraying her chest, and it took all her concentration to keep him from making a total mess of her. His large serpent of a penis jerked with each blast, but she was ready for the recoil and felt the warmth spread on her neck and cleavage. When he was done, the landing zone was contained with his warm, white stuff soaking into her bra. "Okay... okay... I have to go clean myself," she lied. Standing, she hustled on wobbling legs toward the door. The ripe fruit smell of his sperm was overpowering her capacity to think. I need to get the bathroom while I can still remember how to walk and turn door handles!

"Not... today..." Abshir was still seeing sparks before his eyes when he reached out and clasped his mother's wrist. He redirected her stumbling steps in an arc around him until she was almost at his bed. Then he pushed her onto her back.

It all happened so quickly. It was such a betrayal of their agreement that Uba didn't understand at first why she was on her son's mattress with her legs hanging over the edge. The smell of Abshir's sperm corroded the spinning gears of her mind, grinding them almost to a halt. "What... um... what happened?" She lifted her head, looking down over her semen-coated breasts and bra to see her son toss his glasses carelessly away. "Don't do that, you'll break them. Your father spent... oh my... gooosssshhhhh." Suddenly, her son's face was between her legs. She felt him pull her panties to the side. She put a hand on his head to send him away, but never got to the push. His mouth was on her vagina, quickly finding her clitoris. It was a place Taban had hardly visited, but Abshir seemed to know exactly where to go. She flung her head back on the mattress and squealed. "Eeeeeeiiiiiiiii!" It felt better than when she touched her clitoris. She wouldn't have thought anything could feel better than that, but here she was. Without thinking, she spread her legs for him.

"Nnnnooommmm... nooooommmmm... nnnnnooommmmm." He ate out his mother like he was a ravenous beast. Her wails and cries incited him further.

"We... shouldn't... Abshir... oooohhhhhhh... I can... take care of... uuuuggghhhh... myself... later... it's dirty... there." Uba said the truth of it. It was dirty down there, because she was a dirty sock. She lifted her breasts up, inhaling deeply. Her eyes rolled back. She lifted her boobs further and lapped up the salty, cooling semen from her cleavage. She was in paradise. She had no further coherent thoughts. Only orgasm after orgasm.
3838 Walnut Street Pt. 22
A trapped wolf.
This is a work of fiction written solely to entertain. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

May 13, 2015: Apartments 12C and 12E, the Dahir and Marland families.

"Wow... that was... wow." Hani lay naked on her boyfriend's bed. Her head lolled to the side, and she offered a smile. Normally, her grins were sharp, clever crescents. This was a lazy, half-moon. "You still have those... jumbo condoms... your mom got you?"

"Yeah." Joe sat up. He was naked, too. His dick had been taking a break, relaxing on his thigh. But it lurched at her words, lumbering back into its dramatic, turgid state.

"Whoa... easy, big guy." Hani laughed. "I wasn't going to hump you today." She leaned herself on one elbow, aware that Joe's gaze had fallen to her breasts. I suppose boys like when they hang sideways. She laughed louder. Who am I kidding? Boys like whatever my knockers do. They could sing the Star Spangled Banner and Joe would complement them on their pitch.

"What's so funny?" Joe stared at her tits.

"You are. Even after everything we just did. You're still..." She pointed to his angry-looking cock. It was fully hard now and had the demeanor of a thing that wanted to burst through a wall and douse everything on the other side with cum. She held her belly, laughing harder, imagining his penis going on a rampage. "I was thinking about having sex after prom. That would be the perfect time for us... to be disappointed by... you know... you not being able to fit." Her smile faded. "I'm joking, dude. I'll do some research on how to take a big one. The internet has all the answers. It'll be fine."

"It's not that big a deal." Joe shrugged.

"Oh, you're such a baby!" Hani barked out another laugh. Her smile returned. "Come here, baby. Mommy will make you feel better." She roughly grabbed his hair and pulled his face to her tit. She was eighteen, he was eighteen, and they looked nothing alike. That didn't mean she couldn't be his Mommy when the mood hit them. As she expected, he was instantly done pouting. Instead, he suckled at her black nipple like he might somehow make her produce milk through sheer force of will. "That's right. That's a good baby." Hani stroked his silky blond hair and cooed. With her other hand, she reached over and took hold of his dick. It was still slick with cum from before. She whispered little sweet nothings while fapping him and feeding him her nipple. For some stupid reason, it filled her heart with warm bliss when her boyfriend was gruntled. She let her mind happily wander.

"Mmmmmmmm." Joe thought it was weird that she liked to play Mommy. But it didn't bother him. Hani was an odd duck, and he loved her for it. And it sounded like they were going to have sex in a couple weeks. The thought made him nervous, even with the confidence he'd found when they moved into his new apartment. His thoughts lingered on her disappointment when they finally tried and it didn't fit. He wondered what the internet would tell her about trying to make it work. He wondered if she was worrying about it, too.

"I was just thinking..." She continued to stroke his hair and pump his cock with her hand.

"Mmmmm?" Joe looked up at her. Their eyes met, and his inner turmoil calmed. He didn't see any distress on her face.

"What is up with our basement, Joe?" Hani pressed her full, dark lips together. "There's only a laundry room. Isn't that weird? Where's the mechanical room? Where's the furnace?"

Joe popped his mouth off her breast. "That's what you're thinking about? Who cares? It's probably behind some door we haven't noticed."

"I was curious, so I looked everywhere down there." Hani fapped him faster. "There's no door."

"Doesn't it feel good when I suck on your boob?" Joe arched his eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's nice." She nodded.

"But not good enough to keep your mind from wandering?" Joe knew it wasn't fair. His mind was wandering while she stroked him. He just wished she was thinking about them or something.

"I guess." Hani shrugged. Suddenly, his dick was out of her hand. He was standing up, and then he was lifting her in the air. "Hey... what are you doing?" She playfully beat his chest with her fists. "Ooohhhh... what are you doing?" She was shocked to suddenly be upside down. His dick was right below her head. She grabbed it for support.

"Aaaawwoooooooooo." Joe didn't care that his mother was home. She spied on him enough on the other side of the door. He heard and smelled her there all the time. He might as well give her something to listen to. "I know how to keep your mind from wandering." He spread her legs, looking directly down at her pussy. "I'm digging in."

"Oooohhhhhhhh!" Hani's shriek was three-quarters arousal and one-quarter surprise. She knew her boyfriend was strong. After all, she spent lots of time petting his muscles. But she loved to be reminded how strong he really was. "Oh... shit... you're wolfing down... my pussy!" Her eyes screwed in her head. Without thinking, she arched her neck back, angled his dick up, and sucked on his cock.

The teenagers had their very first standing sixty-nine. Their thoughts didn't distract them for the rest of the afternoon.

~~

December 19, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family and Rosalin Eklund.

The Christmas tree was still leaning by the front door. The Kwons hadn't had time to set it up, or even put it in water. There was a dusting of needles on the carpet under it, which had fallen as the tree dried out. Rosalin stared at it from the kitchen. It was early in the morning, and Greg was already gone. His son had him doing so many chores in and out of the apartment that Rosalin couldn't keep track. Darby was still asleep in her bed, and Brian hadn't yet come out of his room. Rosalin dreaded the moment he woke and reached for his trumpet. She also longed for it.

Over the past several days, Rosalin had become familiar with Brian's horrible penis and seductive music. Each morning, she'd wake up on the Kwon sofa and swear that today would be different. There would be no dancing. No blowjobs. No watching mother and son hump like hopped-up rabbits. Each day would dash her convictions.

"Good morning, dear." Darby walked into the kitchen, stretching her arms over her head. She was only wearing panties. The stretch made her breasts rise on her chest. When she relaxed, they fell back to their normal, hanging position, jigging with her movements as she poured herself coffee.

"Good morning." Rosalin looked away. "Did you get a chance to ask them about the phone?"

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Creech said she's still working on it." Darby smiled. "Brian's modem won't work either. You know, he used to look at naked women on his computer? But he hasn't complained about it being out. He doesn't need it with these girls around." Darby shimmied her shoulders and laughed at her dancing boobs. She delighted in the way Rosalin watched her breasts sway out of the corner of her eye.

"Were you always like this?" Rosalin turned back toward the woman and nodded to her shaking breasts.

"No. Not before I let the wild in." Darby walked over to where Rosalin was sitting. She leaned forward and took hold of Rosalin's collar, making a show of trying to smooth it out. She just so happened to also be dangling her breasts inches from the woman's face. "You can't keep wearing the same shirt and pants. You're getting stinky."

Rosalin was silent. It was dried sweat and cum that Darby was smelling.

"And you can't keep wearing my panties. Your butt is too big. You're stretching them out." Darby moved from the collar to brushing Rosalin's blond hair with her fingers. "Such pretty hair. But it's getting oily."

"My butt isn't too big." Rosalin frowned but didn't push the fussing woman away. "I don't love wearing the same clothes either. And your underwear is... tight."

"You could walk around the apartment naked. Brian would love that." Darby kissed Rosalin's cheek, straightened, and sipped her coffee. She pulled a chair over from the dining room and sat down next to her guest.

"The clothes stay on. And I'm not doing that stuff with Brian anymore." Rosalin felt defeated saying something so pathetically untrue. "Dave would have a heart attack if he knew what I'd already done."

Darby looked at the engagement ring on Rosalin's finger. "Dave is the past. Brian is our future. Don't you feel alive when his salty stuff blasts onto your tongue? Don't you feel like you've never truly belonged anywhere else? He worships you, you know. It's not just your regal face. He likes how smart and tough you are."

"Oh, my God." Rosalin hid her face behind her mug.

"What are we going to do about your stinky clothes? If you want to wash them, you'll have to go around naked for a while. I could..." Darby cocked her head and listened, but it was just someone out in the hall. Her son wasn't up yet.

"Why don't you take me on a shopping trip?" Rosalin looked back at the poor, browning Christmas tree.

"That was a strange elevator ride, wasn't it?" The day before, Darby had tried to accompany Rosalin down to the lobby so they could talk directly to Mrs. Creech. But somehow, the elevator always ended up at the top of the building. Darby was starting to take such stretches of reality in stride. At least we didn't see the wolf! "I don't think I want to try that again. But I can go shopping for you if you give me your measurements. Or, I can go to your apartment and pick up some of your things. I wouldn't mind if we stopped sharing a toothbrush." Darby grinned to show her that she was kidding.

"Fine. I'll give you the key." Rosalin sighed.

"You know, since we're sharing cooties anyway, would you like to kiss me?" Darby blushed. There wasn't much that heated her cheeks these days, but she was being very forward. "It's just that... Brian really likes you... and as his mother... that means I really like you." She waited. "Don't make that face. I've kissed Sylvie. She likes it. And Brian says I'm a very good kisser." She waited again. "I see you looking at my boobs. You could play with them if you like."

Rosalin sat, sipped her coffee, and frowned.

"Okay." Darby stood and finished her coffee. "After I check on Brian, I'll get dressed. Give me your key, and I'll go get some of your things. If we're bringing your stuff up here, I think we'll move you into my bedroom. Greg can sleep on the sofa."

"Wait... I didn't want..." But Rosalin was talking to Darby's disappearing ass. Well, at least, I'm not blowing any teenagers today. I'm so sorry for what I've done, Dave. I promise I'll get control.

~~

December 19, 1993: Apartment 14B, the Norwood family.

"It's too bad Nancy and Nora didn't have our lifespan. They would have loved to see this. The completion of all our work." Elizabeth put the key into the lock of 14A. The Crenelings were long gone. But Elizabeth had moved a new tenant into the apartment that year.

"Yes, mistress." Natalie bowed her head in reverence for her friends, lost to time's ravages. "Why... um... why did you give me the gift of this body while they aged?" She had never asked her mistress this before, but the subject hadn't really come up. She gazed at Elizabeth's naked rump and bit her lip with suppressed desire. She always wanted her mistress like a woman come upon an oasis in the desert. But she only acted on it with Elizabeth's invitation. Natalie rubbed her legs together under her dress. She was still dressed for work, carrying a paper sack in one hand.

"I seem to have lost the ability. When I first let the wild in, I bubbled with power." Elizabeth turned the key, and the lock clicked. The door opened, and she heard feral growling and vengeful snarls. She ignored the sounds and stepped into the apartment. "But I lost some of my abilities quickly. You were the only one to absorb so much of my power. The others were lesser shadows."

"Yes, I see." It made sense to Natalie. It fit in with other pieces to the puzzle. For instance, Elizabeth heard the goddess right away, but complained about Her silence ever since. She followed her mistress into the apartment. There were some aspects of the wild here. Some moss on the walls. A few ferns popping up through the floor. But outside the windows, Natalie could still see the familiar gargoyles, and beyond them, New York. She tightened her grip on the bag as they approached 14A's new tenant.

"Let me out... let me the fuck... out!" The male voice was savage and harbored an animus toward those entering the apartment.

"Who's a good doggy, Robby?" Elizabeth walked down the hall and stopped at the entrance to the master suite.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Rob leapt at his captor. But the branches across the doorway made for an impenetrable cage. He snarled and lashed out with daggerlike fingernails. He was naked and dirty, his long, pale dick swinging between his legs.

"That's the spirit!" Elizabeth clapped her hands, causing her boobs and belly to pleasantly jiggle. "You have less than nine more months in here, and then you'll be free to kill me and any of my cervid friends."

"You tricked me, you bitch!" Rob could still see the woman's beauty. But what had once beguiled him into following her to the mysterious fourteenth floor, now was a thing he only wanted to destroy. "I'll kill you!"

"Yes, I know. You tell me that on all our visits." Elizabeth's smile was full of pride. She glanced at Natalie. "Isn't he a lovely puppy, Mrs. Creech?"

"Isn't he too... malevolent for the story?" Natalie grimaced as she pushed the bag of food through the living bars of his prison. She jumped back when he ripped it from her hands and tore it open, feasting on the sandwich inside. "I thought that the wolf was charming and clever. This one..."

"No, no. He's perfect. And he's contained." Elizabeth turned her attention back to the eighteen-year-old as he ate his daily meal. "He won't strike until we're ready. And then... he will do exactly what wolves do."

~~

December 19, 1993: Apartment 12C, the Kwon family and Rosalin Eklund.

Rosalin's hips bounced side to side, her bare feet shimmied on the living room floor. Without meaning to, she was dancing her way toward the trumpet music. I'm sorry, Dave. It was too much. The music was too much. The magnetic pull of Brian's horrible, black-veined dick was too much.

If the building wasn't actively keeping her imprisoned, Rosalin was sure she'd have the willpower to run far, far away. But she was trapped. So, she danced.

The sounds of Darby's grunting and wailing bounced down the hall from Brian's room. They were just loud enough to be heard over the music. Rosalin was very familiar with the brutal, feral sounds of mother and son mating. It still made her shudder. It still made her stomach go cold with disgust and revulsion. But that was only half her mind. The other half threw her hands in the air and shook what her mother gave her.

The door to Brian's room was open. Rosalin danced into the doorway. She wasn't shocked by what she saw. The days of surprise were behind her. But the raw intensity of their fucking hit her body like standing in front of a carnal explosion. Rosalin's body undulated harder with the music, her pussy flooded the borrowed panties, and her stomach cartwheeled. Mother and son were both naked.

Darby was on the floor, positioned like a dog, facing the door. Any semblance of intelligence was gone from her wild, grimacing face. Her large breasts swung under her to the cadence of her son's slamming hips, which was also the rhythm of the song. She was grunting and wailing like an injured doe.

Brian was, of course, behind her. His body moved with a liquid, whiplash motion. His abdominal and chest muscles flexed over and over. His black hair was wet with sweat, and his cheeks were ballooned comically as he played the trumpet.

"I'll come back... later." Rosalin had to shout over the music. Despite her words, she didn't leave. Instead, she shimmied into the room.

Brian dropped the trumpet from his mouth and tossed it on the bed. The last few times, he'd been pushing Rosalin. He wanted to continue that. Without ceremony, he shoved his mother off his dick. She collapsed on the floor, her hips still bucking with the same rhythm as before. She rolled onto her back, and her hand went between her legs. Brian pointed to his dick. "Time to prove your worth, Rosalin. You want in my bevy, you have to suck."

"Um... could you play the music some more?" Rosalin's body stopped bopping. She stood very still. Even with Darby's continued moaning, the bedroom felt quiet and hushed.

"Nope." Brian shook his head.

"Well... um... maybe I'll go back to the living room then." Rosalin took a couple steps back. "Your mom's stuff is all over it. I don't want to put it in my -"

"I'll play for you some more... if you take off your clothes." Brian nodded to the grungy flannel she had on. His mother had promised to get Rosalin a change of clothes today, but he'd distracted her.

"Brian... I can't. You know about Dave. I love him. What we've already done is bad enough." The top button on her flannel was undone. She quickly buttoned it.

"Suit yourself. But I'm going to stop playing if you don't start undressing." Brian stood, picked up his trumpet again, and played Touch Me (All Night Long).

"Damn... you..." Rosalin swayed her hips. "I'm not a stripper." But she found her fingers undoing their recent work on her top button. The only bra she had was dirty, so she wasn't wearing one. It wasn't something she could borrow, like a pair of Darby's panties that she could squeeze into. She regretted not having anything underneath as the last buttons gave way, and she exposed a gap of flesh down the front. She hated herself for doing it, but she moved the two sides of her shirt around suggestively. She swayed to the music, making a fool of herself.

"Ooohhhh... ooohhhh... eeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiii!" Darby orgasmed on the floor, jerking her hips up in the air.

Brian played his heart out, his eyes never leaving the exposed pale cleavage between Rosalin's breasts, and the alley of vulnerable belly she displayed for him.

In Rosalin's mind, Brian was more dangerous than the Bloomfield Killer. That man had merely wanted to strangle her. This man wanted to sculpt her into a woman she hardly recognized. As she pulled the flannel to expose a little hint of pink nipple, Rosalin looked down at Darby. The woman was panting on the floor, starting to show some sapience in her eyes again. Is that my future? Will Brian's music turn me into that? Her lip curled in disgust, but Rosalin kept stripping. She didn't want the music to end. When she showed her full left breast, Brian changed songs to something she didn't know. It had a faster tempo. She was pleasing him, so she kept dancing, slowly revealing her delicate left shoulder.

"Yeah... that's rad... Ms. Eklund." Darby sat up. She was now rubbing her own nipples, giving her vagina a break. "You go... girl. Shake it... shake it!" Darby laughed as she watched the flannel come all the way off. "You have... nice boobs. They're plump! You'll feed so many of Brian's babies with those." Darby moved over and rested her back against Brian's bed, her head nodding to the music. She squeezed her breasts. "I'll do the same thing with these girls."

Rosalin tried to ignore the fallen mother. She remembered seeing a woman do a stripper dance in the movie Road House. Her cheeks heated with shame, but she tried to copy those movements as best she could. She unzipped her jeans, pulling them slowly down her legs to the tempo of the song. She turned her back to the Kwons and bent over, giving them the show she thought they wanted.
"Oh... my... God... look at her butt." Darby clapped her hands and whistled loudly enough to be heard over the trumpet. "She looks like one of those rap guys' girlfriends." Darby laughed. "My anaconda wants some!"

Brian switched it up on the trumpet, moving to Baby Got Back. It was a better song for stripping anyway.

Rosalin stepped out of her jeans and shook her ass at them. She was only wearing panties made for a five-foot-two woman. And Rosalin was five-foot-nine. But she knew by the way Darby hooted and hollered and the way Brian played his trumpet that they didn't think she looked ridiculous. Rosalin whipped her blond hair in circles and shook her ass into a major booty quake. She didn't stop until Brian switched songs again.

"Yeah... now you're getting it. This is what being Brian's doe is all about." Darby took in the sight of the woman. Rosalin didn't have the widest hips, but she was so tall, Darby was sure she'd have no trouble popping out Brian's babies. "Suck him... Ms. Eklund."

"No." Rosalin shook her head as she kept dancing stripper style for them. Little beads of sweat flew off her glistening boobs as she shook them back and forth. "It was in your pussy... Darby. I can't." But of course, she could. And she would if the Kwons decided to ask her more persistently. She was naked in front of them now, slowly lowering her panties. She was poised to do the unthinkable, taste another woman on a man's cock.

Brian removed the trumpet from his mouth. "That's rude, Rosalin." He frowned at her.

Rosalin stopped moving, one foot in the air, her panties still around the other ankle. She looked at Brian with wide eyes.

"You can go now." Brian put down his trumpet and pointed to the door.

"I... um..." Rosalin finished removing her panties and stood, no longer dancing. She felt like such a doofus standing naked in front of them, but she didn't cover herself. She also felt like a giant. David was six-foot-three. She felt feminine next to her fiancé. Relative to the Kwons, she was a high-rise. "I'm sorry."

"No more music for you today. I want you to think about what you said." Brian could smell her excitement. Heck, she was so turned on, he probably would have smelled her before the changes that enhanced his senses. This will help get her in line.

Without the music, it was easier for Rosalin to confront this lurid teenager. She balled her hands into fists. "Look, I don't care that I saw you run along the ceiling. I don't care that your dick is... wrong." She pointed at the knobby head as it belched precum. "I don't care that you're not the nice boy I once thought you were. I'm willing to... use my mouth. All you have to do is wash it first. And... play some more music."

"Get out." Brian's eyes flashed crimson.

"You better do as he says." Darby stood on wobbly legs and put an arm around her son's waist. "You wouldn't like Brian when he's angry."

Rosalin was shaking like a leaf. It wasn't anger. It wasn't fear. It was need. What had they done to her? "Please... I... can't do it while it's covered in that stuff." The froth on Brian's dick was drying, leaving a white crust.

"Get... the fuck... out." Brian leapt from his mother's grasp and clung to the ceiling. His dick was still hard, looking stranger than ever combined with all his twisted pale limbs as he pointed to the door again.

Rosalin picked up her clothes hurriedly and raced out of the room. Once back in the living room, she sat on the sofa and put her face in her hands. Tears ran down her cheeks. The trumpet didn't start back up, but the sounds of sex did. She listened to the Kwons go at it for several minutes, resisting her impulses. Finally, the sound of one of Darby's climaxes churned that terrible mix of desire and disgust in Rosalin's stomach. With her clothes piled next to her on the sofa, she leaned back and dropped a hand between her legs. She listened to the Kwons turn their backs on civilization, and she brought herself to several soaring orgasms of her own.

~~

May 14, 2015: Apartments 12C and 12E, the Dahir and Marland families.

"Hello, you two. Time for homework?" Carrie had skipped volunteering at church so she could listen to her son and his girlfriend. She was worried that it was becoming a problem for her, but she told herself over and over that it was harmless. The teenagers didn't even know that she liked to press her ear to Joe's door.

"Actually, we want your help, Mom." Joe put down his backpack.

Hani stepped in next to him, adjusted her hijab, and dropped her backpack next to his.

"Oh... you want my help with... your homework?" Carrie's pulse suddenly beat in her ears. A sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. An explosion of butterflies beat their wings in her tummy. Will they make me watch their games? Can I say no?

"What? No." Joe cocked his head. He could smell the sweat on his mother and hear her heartbeat shooting through the roof. "What's gotten into you?"

"We want your help searching the basement, Mrs. Marland." Hani smiled sweetly. She didn't notice anything amiss with her boyfriend's mother.

"Oh... did you lose something down there?" Carrie worked hard to control her breathing. Her son wasn't going to rope her into his homework sessions with his girlfriend. That would have been preposterous. How could she think that? Carrie glanced at his crotch. Even though it was soft, she could see the outline of his large slug under his pants pointing to the left.

"No, we're looking for the mechanical room. And whatever else is hidden down there," Hani said brightly. "It's been bothering me for a while. So, we're going to solve that little mystery."

"Oh, we shouldn't do that. I'm sure the building keeps those doors closed on purpose," Carrie shook her head.

"That's just it. There are no doors." Joe strode over to where his mother was sitting on the sofa. He put his finger on her chin, and tilted her head up so that they were eye to eye. "Searching will be easier with you, Mom. You're coming with us."

"Okay," Carrie whispered. She stood up. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions since the teenagers had returned home from school. She was glad that her son was giving her some direction. It was calming.

"Great, let's go find out what's what." Hani laced her arm in Carrie's and walked her to the front door.

"It's probably nothing, Hani." Joe followed his women out of the apartment.

"We'll find out," Hani said over her shoulder.