Chapter 1

Gareth started in surprise as his watch began to chime. He dipped his head under the stream of the shower as he slapped the alarm off before quickly rinsing his hair and stepping from the shower. A pause to glance at the floor-length mirror opposite the shower stall. His lips tug downward slightly as he took in his extremely pale skin and slender body. He had spent the last 3 months at his father’s family survival camp practically naked, and he still looked like he had spent the time relaxing in a hyperbolic chamber. He quickly dried his body and his short gray hair before quickly getting dressed in his new uniform. Consisting of grey slacks, black socks, a pair of black wing-tip Oxford shoes, a white button-down shirt carefully tucked in, grey pinstripe vest, a narrow black tie, and a charcoal coat, it quickly found its way onto his body. He made a quick detour by his room to pick up his bag with its attendant supplies before quickly stepping down the stairs and heading for the front door.

“Wait.” his mother called as he passed the couch in the living room “Forgetting something?” she queried.

Evelyn Hansom was sitting on the couch wearing a long sleeve ivory satin blouse and a shin-length periwinkle blue pencil skirt offset by amber and jet accessories. At 162cm tall and carrying a couple of extra kilos on her hips and chest, she not exactly the image of a corporate leader. She did, in fact, own her own privately held company, though Gareth was not sure what exactly it did as she did not talk about her work at home. She made a show of setting her tea on the table and watching him expectantly while slightly pursing her lips.

He paused to hop up on the back of the couch with the intention of giving her a quick peck. Her arms darted out to ensnare his neck, the satin fabric of her ivory blouse cool against the shower flushed skin of his neck. She held him in place as she firmly planted her lips against his. Her tongue quickly wedged its way into his mouth and darted around as if it were looking for cavities. He refrained from rolling his eyes. She was always this way after he got back from summer camp. She would calm down after a few days.

“Mom,” he said, directly into her mouth, “I’m late.”

She groaned like a petulant child, arms and mouth still locked in place. He nipped gently at her tongue with his teeth, and it withdrew into her own mouth. She withdrew her arms and pouted more adorably than a woman her age should while he resumed his place behind the couch and straightened his mussed clothes and hair.

“I will be back in a few hours.” he said he quickly walked to the front door.

While exiting the door, he nearly collided with Kimba, but she was deftly able to sidestep his inadvertent lunge. Kimba Moreau was a police officer before she came to work for his mother as a bodyguard/assistant. Today her powerfully built figure was displayed by the cream vest and slacks that hugged her taunt and curvy figure and contrasted the darkness of her skin. A black leather coat was draped over her forearm while a semiautomatic pistol rested in a holster under her left shoulder. She had a daughter that graduated high school the same year he did.

“I apologize Madam Moreau. I am running a bit late this morning.”

While he was speaking, her eyes ran down his body like a checklist. An almost imperceptible quirk appeared at the corner of her lips as she reached over and rubbed her thumb at the edge of his lip.

“Take this to mean that your mother is awake,” she stated calmly, “Starting at Hunterwood this morning?”

“2 of 2 Madam Moreau,” he said as he scrubbed at his lips with his handkerchief “left her on the couch in the living room. If you would excuse me, I really am running late. See you this afternoon.”

He quickly moved to the edge of the street and after pausing to look both ways jogged across the street and vaulted over the short wall separating the roadway from the Hunter’s Wood. After entering the treeline he allowed himself to settle into a quick jog. 49 minutes later by his watch, he exited the tree line near a large walled campus composed of slate buildings and hardwood trees that comprised the Hunterwood Academy for Higher Education. After clambering over another short wall, he looked around and was quickly able to spot his best friend Sam.

Gareth smirked as he walked over casually taking in his friend’s liberal interpretation of the dress code. Her prohibited waist-length dreadlocks held back by a regulation grey barrette. She was mixing a white female blouse with a male pinstripe vest and black tie but with the female grey summer cape as well as wearing the grey knee-length pleated skirt over the grey male slacks with her female issue black short heeled boots peeking out the bottom.

She noticed him several paces away and charged over to meet him, snatching him up under the arms and tossing him into the air like a toddler.

“Gareth!” she called out happily, her smile like a slice of whiteness across her broad mocha features.

She easily caught him with an arm behind the knees and the other behind his shoulders and proceeded to crush him in a bosomy hug. He waited patiently for her to let him go. She also had a tendency to get assertively clingy when he returned from camp. After a few moments, there was the sound of a large bell tolling somewhere on campus.

“Crap!” she exclaimed, “I have to get to class.”

She quickly set him back on his feet and started brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes.

“Because you are late, we do not have time to talk now but after class meet me at my place. I have a favor to ask.” she started to dash away. “Glad you were not eaten by a bear or whatever.”

Before he could respond, she had already disappeared through the gate that leads deeper into the campus. He stood still a moment, looking at the gate in a bemused fashion before remembering that he needed to get to class as well. He received some sideways looks and raised eyebrows from the other people he maneuvered around on his way to class, but this close to the bell no one seemed inclined to interject themselves into his affairs. With his height and build, he was often assessed as being younger than he was, and he had been concerned that it might give him trouble on the campus.

He managed to arrive at his history 101 class with just enough time to be seated before the professor walked up to the lectern. He observed her as she double checked her notes. Her skin was more towards the middle of the pigment chart, perhaps Latino or Arabic decent. She was on the high side of average height and built like a swimmer. Her long limbs and slender frame were showcased by her well fitted grey slacks and white short-sleeve button-up shirt and a wide tie. The way her oxfords and brass belt buckle were shined made him suspect that she came from a military background.

“I am Miranda Cornhall. You may address me as Professor or Ms. Cornhall. This is history 101: Into into world history.” She spoke in a clear, level voice with no trace of any accent. “Any questions before we begin?”

“That brings us to the end of our time today.” Professor Cornhall stated as she wound down from her lecture and clicked off the projector. “For homework, 4000 words on the interactions between the early hominids and the effect of climate and environment on those interactions. To be on my desk at the start of class Wednesday. APA format and at least five citations. Dismissed until Wednesday.”

Gareth hustled to exit the lecture hall and, rather than go all the way to the gate, swarmed up a beech tree near the outer wall. He jumped down from the wall to the soft ground outside the campus, ensuring to keep at least 90 degrees in the knee joint and letting his momentum carry him into a forward roll and back to his feet. He took his bearings and began jogging through the woods to Sam’s house a few miles to the south of the school.

It was 12:04 by his watch when he arrived at the house where Sam was living with her pack of roommates. Gareth had not met any of them yet, but according to a conversation with Sam before he left for camp there should be five of them. Gareth applied his knuckle briskly to the polished hardwood of the front door and smiled internally at the sudden pounding sound as someone energetically ran to answer the door.

“Ah good, I was worried you would be late.” Sam said as she opened the door. “We need to hurry. I have to meet Pops for lunch in about half an hour.”

Sam had changed out of her uniform into a white t-shirt with black letters spelling “Not milk” and either a very wide belt or a very short skirt in an eye-searing shade of pink with black spats showing at least 5cm out the bottom. Gareth heard sounds of activity in the house, but before he could comment or act Sam grabbed his shoulders and quickly marched him through the house to a bedroom in the back corner of the house. A person less familiar with Sam might find it difficult to believe that she had only been living here a few months. If pressed to sum up Sam’s organizational paradigm in a single word, Gareth would choose the word “piles”. The closet doors were open with a pile of clothes on either side of them and a pile of clothes in the middle of a closet. Her uniform hung alone on the bar. To one side of the foot of the bed was a pile of extra bed clothes. On one side of the bed a pile of packaged snack foods and zip-locked bags of homemade jerky. On the opposite side there was a pile of empty wrappers stuffed in zip-lock bags. On the bed itself, there was a pile of pillows and blankets. Despite the untidy clutter, the room did not seem to be dirty, and the only smell Gareth could detect was the slight musky smell of an active young woman.

“If you are done eyeing my room like some kind of judgmental deviant, we need to hurry.” Sam said as she closed the laptop on the desk and swept the pile of thumb drives into a drawer.

“You have not actually told me what the favor you desire is.” Gareth said calmly as Sam shoved the laptop into the wide drawer at the front of the desk and locked the drawer before dropping the key into the stein of keys on the desk.

“Right.” She closely watched his face. “We are friends, yeah?”

He nodded.

“And that means that I can ask you for favors and even if they are weird or illegal or whatever you will still do them if you can right?”

“Right.” Gareth said decisively, “An acquaintance will help you move a couch; a friend will help you move a corpse. We have been friends for a while so how can I help you?”

She was quiet for a few more moments while she searched his impassive face.

“I am going to need you to cum on my face.” She stated.

Gareth paused a moment, “To test my understanding, you want me to ejaculate semen from my penis onto your face before you have lunch with your father, the supervising manager for the county waste management services. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, that is right.” Sam said hesitantly.

“Very well, how would you like to proceed?” Gareth asked briskly. “Should I masturbate into a vessel or directly onto your face? Did you want to be present for the entire procedure or just the end?” Sam blinked silently for a few moments

“I was thinking that you could sit on the bed and I could use my mouth and hands until you cum on my face.” She suggested.

Gareth nodded, “Most agreeable procedure, Sam. Would you say you are accomplished at this? I do not recall you dating while we were in high-school. You have lunch planned with Mr. Ambrosan and I am starting work at Mom’s company today.”

Gareth hopped up on the edge of the bed. Because the bed was slightly high, his feet did not quite touch the floor. He began working to open his pants while Sam lightly dropped to her knees in front of him. Even with her on her knees and him sitting on the bed they were almost the same height. She slapped lightly at his hands.

“I wanna do it...” She said breathily

After a few moments of manipulation she was able to open his pants and lower his shorts enough to extract his penis. She started at it silently with wide eyes for several seconds. It was erecting quickly and was soon almost knee-length and the fingers of one of her hands could not touch around its girth.

“Well I guess I found what happened to the rest of you.” She teased gently as she slowly massaged the organ with both hands.

“Yeah ... It is like someone misplaced a decimal at the factory.” Gareth joked while settling his hands lightly on his thighs and watching her work.

Sam burst out giggling out of proportion of the funniness of the joke as she continued to explore the penis with her hands. When she had control of herself again, she asked without looking up.

“Do you have a lot of experience with this kind of thing?”

Gareth considered a moment while his eyes followed her hands up and down, “When I was 15 I masturbated once but it made such a mess that I felt bad for the housekeeper and as you know Mom insisted that I not date in high-school.”

Sam froze in place for a few beats, “You jerked off once in your entire life?” She asked incredulously, “I have to get off like three times a day.”

She leaned forward to deeply sniff the head of his pale penis, now gleaming with moisture from his lubricating fluid being massaged in by her hands

“If I mess up you will tell me right?”

He smiled internally, “If you insist.”

She nodded to herself and a took a deep breath before taking the head of his penis into her mouth. She moaned around his penis like a gourmand tasting their favorite food after a long absence. Gareth’s brow furrowed slightly as the moist heat and vibration caused pleasure to seriously compromise his thought processes. She began working her mouth up and down, taking it a little deeper with each bob of her head. When it got deep enough to touch her throat, she wrapped her hand around the shaft as it exited her mouth and drew her mouth off the rock hard penis. She observed her hand on the shaft while she coughed lightly.

“Shit, not even half...” She muttered, her words slightly slurred, before meeting his eyes, “Kind of quiet there, Gareth. How are you doing?”

“Very well, thank you.” Gareth stated politely, “A little unsure what to do with my hands, but otherwise a very pleasant experience so far.”

“You do not watch much porn, huh?” She replied drunkenly as she moved his hand from his thighs to her head before engulfing his penis in her mouth once more.

Gareth decided her question was rhetorical and just softly rubbed his hands over her hair, enjoying the texture of her dreadlocks as well as the movement of her tongue as it worked against the bottom of his glans. He worked to keep his breathing even and measured, slightly embarrassed by the rate at which the pleasant stimulation was pushing him towards release. She looked up at him, her eyes strangely glassy, and smiled around his penis. His fingers were beginning to curl into her hair without his prompting. Her breathing was ragged and fluid was escaping from her mouth with every movement, though it was not clear if it was saliva or his own copious lubricant. She looked positively stoned and his world was beginning to constrict and collapse inward. His jaw was clenched and his breath was drawn in long pulls through his nose and released in sudden bursts. Her hands were buried under her waistband and causing a wet sound to echo in time with the sound of her sloppy fellatio. Gareth’s perception of the world narrowed to a pinprick, and he had just enough presence of mind to pull her off his penis by her hair as the pinprick exploded. For an instantaneous eternity is seemed that the entire world was a chorus of voices all woven together into a perfect harmony. A chaotic masterpiece of life and death and renewal; it seemed to crash over him from everywhere at once and stifle him under the ocean of sensation. It was like finding out there were twenty colors in a rainbow that he had never seen, and for a moment he was concerned that he might break down sobbing. Then the moment passed and with it the choral ocean retreated into the background, diminished but hovering on the edge of awareness as a faint buzz.

Gareth realized that he was laying back on the bed and sat up to see what the damage was. Sam’s white tee shirt was plastered to her skin, showcasing breasts that were at least two sizes bigger than he thought he recalled. Her face and head were almost completely coated with his gelatinous seed; from the top of her round twitching ears to the bottom of her square muzzle and more than a little was inside her mouth. He was still trying to collect his thoughts, but something about that seemed off. His watch started chiming.

“Expletive” He swore as he stuffed his penis, which was ready for round two, into his pants, “Sam, I have to run. Are you okay? Are we good here?”

“Good ... So good” She crooned like a heroin addict after a big hit.

Gareth hesitated another moment before deciding “She is a big girl. She knows what she is doing.” The little voice that thought something was off calmly noted that she was at least 210cm now and there seemed to be fur growing on her arms. Rather than try to navigate through the house, he simply let himself out the window, pausing to ensure that it was properly closed, before heading for his house at a dead run.

39 minutes later Gareth emerged from the Hunter’s Wood near his house and did not see an SUV in the driveway. Executing an internal fist-pump to go with his possibly permanent internal grin, he vaulted the half wall and dashed inside. He caught a look at himself in the entry hall mirror. There were leaves in his hair, his shirt was rumpled, and there was a wet spot on his pants from improperly storing his penis after his experience with Sam. In short, he needed a shower and change of clothes before Madam Moreau arrived to drive him to the office.

Gareth went upstairs and into his bedroom, swiftly acquiring one of the new suits that his mother had ordered tailored for him. He thought this one might be the “Ocean mist” colored one. They all looked grey or black to him. He quickly carried it to the bathroom and hung it on the back of the door before stripping down, tossing his soiled garments into the appropriate bin, and stepping into the shower. He slapped the water on and started washing the leaves out of his hair.

The bathroom door was reduced to a mass of splinters and cast into the opposite wall with great force. The cause of this effect was apparently Kimba Moreau, as she was the next thing into the room. She entered the room in a blur and snapped her pistol to Gareth’s face as if there were some magnetism at play. As the splinters of wood were settling to the floor and Gareth was pondering why her gun seemed so much bigger from this angle, Kimba’s eyes were racing around the room with a look of confusion on her face.

“Gareth, what is going on?” Kimba demanded.

“A very good question, Madam Moreau.” Gareth answered torn between raising his hands and covering his genitals, “One I can personally relate to at the moment, But I fear I do not know the answer. Apologies”

Kimba stared at him for several seconds, gun slowly being lowered until it pointed at the wood strewn floor. “You got laid!” She finally exclaimed, eyes lighting up with understanding. The memories that were triggered by her statement caused his penis to jerk and begin to inflate. Her eye were drawn to the movement.

“Nice job Ms. Hansom.” She stated.

“Madam Moreau, I am unaccustomed to being held at gunpoint in my shower while a beautiful woman compliments my mother on my penis. I would appreciate a guidance cue. What is my move?” Gareth commented with a calmness that seemed inappropriate to the situation.

Kimba jerked her gaze away from his penis and her dark complexion flushed darker in embarrassment. She holstered her pistol. “Right then. We are running late. Put a rush on and meet me downstairs. Quick like a bunny.” She strode out of the bathroom like she had somewhere to be. Gareth stared at the doorway for a moment before internally shrugging and finishing his shower.

A few minutes later they were in her SUV and on the way to the office. Thus far they had acted as if nothing strange had happened. Kimba cleared her throat and asked.