Double Dog Dare

They had all been friends for a number of years and were all set to graduate high school in a few weeks. As a group of friends they were an eclectic assortment of personalities. John was athletic, but not enough to warrant first string on the football team, while Dustin seemed to have an eidetic memory for useless information, but was not in tight with the brain trust. Charles fancied himself class clown, while Blake tried to pass himself off as a badass.

Early summer weather led to pre-grad celebrations each weekend as the big day approached. What had started out as a friendly get together for twenty or quickly morphed into an absolute off-the-chain blowout, at least until the cops showed up, then it was pandemonium. Hundreds of revelers taking flight in every direction imaginable.

The four friends met up and navigated through the forested area beside the lake until they reached agricultural land on the rural edge of town and wandered into a cornfield. They had all come to the party in John’s beat up 1973 Dodge Dart Swinger, but the cops were all over the only road in or out and there was no way they were going to get back to the car without getting nabbed by the police.

“I’m too fucked up to drive anyway,” mumbled John, tall, clean cut, pushing through the corn stalks, letting the light of the near full moon illuminate the path.

“So what are we going to do about getting home?” Charles asked, an edge of panic in his voice, bespectacled eyes wide, but seeming even wider due to the prescription. He kept his dark brown hair long and swept back.

“We got two choices lads,” said Dustin, tallest of the group at a lanky 6’4”, sandy blonde hair gelled back. “Walk or get a ride with the local constabulary.”

Blake snorted. “Fuck the cops. It’s only a few miles back to town, Johnny can cab out get his car tomorrow,” he said.

“It’s like eight miles, not a couple,” complained Charles.

“Jesus Charles, you’re like the fat kid on that movie where they find the dead body,” Blake indicted, tone snarky.

“Stand by Me,” Dustin said, clarifying.

“What?” Blake asked.

“That was the name of the movie, Stand by Me. The fat kid was played by Jerry O’Connell,” Dustin answered.

Blake stopped. “Are you kidding me? How the hell do you know this stuff Dustin?” he asked, baffled by the wealth of trivial knowledge stored in Dustin’s head.

“I don’t know, useless trivia just seems to stick to my brain, wish I could remember textbooks and mathematical formulae the same way,” he replied shrugging his shoulders.

Blake started walking again, shaking his head. “Did anybody else see Hailey Beckett tonight?” he asked.

“Fuck she looked good, but she had that college guy draped all over her, that baseball guy from state, lucky bastard,” commented John wistfully.

“What about Charlotte Halvorson? I think she looked amazing all done up,” Dustin said.

“Yeah but Troy is hitting that,” lamented John. “Quarterbacks get all the top flight tail.”

“You think he’s tagging it? She looks like she would be pretty high maintenance though,” Blake said

 “Fuck you’d tackle that if she offered,” John replied.

“I think we all would,” Dustin said. They laughed.

“Charlotte’s little sister Virginia is going to be something special next year, she’s filling out nicely,” Charles said, cupping his hands in front of his chest.

John nodded. “Serious potential there,” he agreed.

They continued to discuss events at the party as they walked. When finally they emerged through the corn field, they stepped onto a twelve foot wide hard packed path in the dirt that ran parallel to the corn field. Across the vehicle access path was a twelve foot tall wrought iron fence running parallel to the road, each closely spaced vertical upright on the fence crowned with a ten inch pointed spike. Some type of vine or scrub brush had grown through the fence, weaving back and forth between the uprights, but whatever it was had died long ago, leaving strands bleached dead vegetation giving the fence a creepy spider web appearance. In the distance beyond the fence, they could see the darkened manor house, a decrepit edifice slowly surrendering its former glory to the ravages of weather and time.

“I know where we are,” said Blake, looking at the others. “That’s the old witch house on Townline,” he identified, pointing at the house.

“It’s supposed to be haunted,” Charles said, voice low, looking at the old house, eyes wide.

“Fuck that shit, no such thing as ghosts, pinhead,” retorted John disdainfully and waving a hand in the direction of the house.

“No, it’s true,” defended Charles. “They say that all sorts of people vanished over the years and that the old witch killed them then hung herself on the tree beside the house,” he said, pointing to the large spectral leafless tree silhouetted by the moonlight.

“Why would she hang herself?” John inquired. “I mean, if she’s offing people and the locals can’t prove shit, why would she hang herself, it just seems stupid,” he commented.

“It does seem nonsensical,” Dustin added, following the logic.

“You know what?” John asked. “We should go in there and check it out for ourselves,” he said, a smile on his handsome face, a touch of deviltry in his hazel eyes.

“Are you for real right now?” queried Blake. “Witch house?”

John snorted derisively. “Couple of chickens, you and Charlie. You don’t believe in ghosts do you Dustin?”

“I don’t know, there is footage of some pretty unusual phenomena on the internet,” he replied, looking at the menacing dwelling. “I can’t definitively say one way or the other whether or not they exist.”

“How very noncommittal of you,” John laughed.

“If you’re such a badass John, I dare you to go in there,” challenged Charles.

“There’s probably somebody living in it,” John replied, shrugging off the dare.

“Who’s being the chicken now, I double dog dare you!” Blake said, taking the challenge to the next level.

Not that he actually wanted to go, but now the gauntlet had been thrown down there was no way John could back out without losing some face. “Alright, but If I go in, we all go, what do you have to say to that?” he questioned.

“I ain’t afraid to say it, I don’t want to go in there,” Charles stated, shaking his head as if to emphasize his point.

“You are like the world’s biggest vagina,” John indicted with a snort.

“Well?” asked Blake, looking to John.

“Well what? I told you, we all go, or it’s no deal,” John replied, feeling confident he might be able to get out from under the dare by stipulating the aforementioned condition.

“I’ll do it,” said Dustin. The three others looked at him. “Not that I’m not afraid, because that place looks creepy as shit, but I’m curious,” he said.

“If Dustin’s going in, I’ll go,” Blake said, fixing his blue eyes on Charles.

“Fuck no,” Charles said, shaking his head from side to side, pushing his glasses back up onto his face.

“Afraid the witch will get you?”  Blake said smugly.

“Fuck you,” Charles replied.

“Buck, buck,” John said, imitating the clucking sound of a chicken.

“The question is how to get over this fence,” Dustin said, taking hold of two uprights and shaking them gently, corroded metal flaking off in his hand.

“It’s like almost three o’clock in the morning, I’m still half cut from the party,” protested Charles, desperately trying to sway the group.

“And your period is coming on, yeah, yeah,” John verbally jabbed. “We get it, you’re yellow.”

“This fence is practically falling apart,” said Dustin, removing his hands and wiping the rusted metal off his fingers.

“So what’s it going be Charles? I fucking triple dog dare you!” John said, pointing a finger at Charles’ chest, eyes daring him to try and back down.

Charles let out an agitated breath. “Fine, fuck. I’ll go,” he resigned. “I’m not happy though, for the record, I just want everybody to know I was bullied into going,” he sulked.

“More like shamed,” cracked Blake.

“There’s no way in hell we’re going over this thing,” John said, looking at the imposing fence topped by vicious points.

“Let’s scope the fence line, there might be a spot somewhere along it we can slip through,” offered Dustin, pausing a moment to look in both directions.

“Me and Dustin will go that way,” John said. Pointing at Charles, “You and Blake can go the other way,” he stated.

“Fuck that,” Blake answered. “We all stick together. It’s like every fucking horror movie ever made, ‘Let’s split up and see if we can’t find the monster,’ and then everybody gets systematically hunted down and axed. No way.”

Dustin laughed. “It’s true, except there’s usually a slutty girl and a good girl and the slutty girl pairs up with one of the dudes and they get it first just as they getting it on.”

John chuckled. “Okay we stay together then, Charles can be the slutty girl, let’s head this way,” he said, pointing along the fence.

Charles frowned, shooting a glare at John.

Following the farm vehicle access road east, they moved along the edge of the fence. When the fence curled away from the road, they stepped off the beaten path and into the sawgrass, waist high and glowing amber in the waxing light of the moon.

Onto the property

“There, by the tree,” said Dustin, moving close to where there was a large tree inside the fenced in property. Near the tree, the fence was broken apart, several vertical uprights missing, as if the growth of the tree had somehow pushed the metal back creating the opportune breech.

“Looks pretty tight,” Blake said, taking out his phone and bringing up the flashlight app and shining the harsh light on the fence, he pointed to the jagged remnants of the iron.

Dustin was the first to slip through, careful not to catch him jeans on the metal. Charles was next through, but nearly as nimble as Dustin, catching his pants and tearing them slightly.

“Shit,” he cursed, looking down. Blake shone the light on the trousers. “My mom is going to lose her mind when she sees this,” he said glumly.

As the thickest of the four, John took extra special care to get through the opening. Blake was the last.

“Turn off the light,” cautioned John once every one was through. Blake did.

“I can’t see shit,” mumbled Charles, fingers still exploring the hole he’d made in his pants.

“Give your eyes a few seconds to adapt to the dark,” Dustin said, blinking a few times to try and restore his vision.

“Okay, I’m good,” said John, looking at the others.

“I got to piss,” said Blake.

“Go over by the tree,” John said. “Make it quick.”

Blake started walking in that direction but stumbled over something in the dark, falling to the ground. “Fuck!” he exclaimed crashing to the earth.

Charles pulled his phone and shone the light over to where Blake was picking himself up.

“Are those fucking headstones?” Blake asked, pointing at the featureless weathered gray stones protruding less than a foot from the ground all around him.

“Probably,” replied John.

“That’s not fucking creepy, lying in a graveyard,” he groused, brushing dirt off the knees of his pants.

“Though you had to take a leak?” Charles said.

“I’m not going piss on a graveyard, that’s like some bad fucking karma or something,” he said, navigating through the low stones to rejoin the others.

“What if you didn’t trip, but it was a zombie hand grabbed you?” teased John.

“I’d shit my pants, then give the zombie Charles,” Blake answered.

“Fuck you Blake,” Charles replied.

Dustin laughed. “C’mon, let’s go to the house.”

“Shut off your light Charles,” John instructed.

Once eyes had once again adjusted to the dim moonlight, the four crossed the overgrown yard toward the large house, the dilapidated condition becoming more apparent the nearer they got.

“Shit, looks like this thing is going to collapse in on itself,” Charles murmured as they neared the rear of the house.

“It looks like there’s still stuff inside there,” Blake said, pointing at a darkened window, something shiny reflecting light. “There could be people inside.”

Circling around to the side, “Hey, there’s set of doors there,” said John, pointing at the double wooden doors situated against the side of the house on an angle against the foundation.

“I think there’s people inside,” repeated Blake to no one in particular.

“Doubt it, look no car, weeds growing everywhere. Maybe they left it the way it was when the witch hung herself,” John replied making his eyes big and round.

“Fuck off, that’s not even funny,” Charles said, his already heart racing.

“Ooooo,” John said making a ghostly moan, needling Charles.

Walking over to the two doors on the side of the house, John listened a moment. Hearing nothing from inside, he grabbed one handle, Dustin the other. Each pulling, the doors opened, a screeching groan of protest as rust from the long dormant hinges cracked and fell away.

Into the house

“I think this was for like coal or something, you know, back in the day before electricity and stuff,” Charles said, watching on.

“Like a chute?” John asked.

“Exactly,” Charles nodded.

“Storm cellar,” Dustin said, opening his door as far as the rusted hinges would permit.

“Blake, shine your light in there, see what’s down there,” encouraged John, holding his door most of the way open.

“Fucking stinks in there,” complained Blake, wrinkling his face, pulling out his phone and leaning in to illuminate the darkened cellar. A broad set of stairs descended down into the cellar, the floor vanishing into the gloom beyond the light.

“Charles go in,” John said, nodding his head toward the stairs

“No fucking way, you go in, I’ll hold your door,” Charles replied, voice low.

John snickered. Passing the door to Charles, he stepped down onto the first step, wood creaking under his weight. Reaching back, Blake handed him the phone and John took another step down. Slowly John took each step, until he came to the floor, light spilling out over all manner of ancient furniture and linen covered objects.

Turning to look back up the steps, “C’mon, you guys got to come down and see some of this shit,” he whispered.

“We should just close the doors and lock him in,” suggested Charles.

Testing the door, satisfied that it wouldn’t fall, Dustin followed John down the rickety stairs into the cellar.

Blake and Charles exchanged looks, before Charles stepped in and as he descended the stairs, he allowed the door to close behind him, Blake followed suit once Charles was clear. The cellar was spacious, the air musty and cooler than outside. Thick wooden beams ran overhead supporting the floor above.

Reaching out, John pulled one of the sheets off a covered object, dust dancing through the light as it fell away from an ornate wooden table with what looked like a central hand carved pedestal.

All manner of other possessions were stacked against the walls. There was a large painting leaning against the wall, six feet tall by ten feet long. Charles pulled the cloth away and let it drop to the floor.

“Hey I know that one, like Venus on a clam shell,” Blake said, pointing at the painting.

“Venus on a half shell, The Birth of Venus, by Botticelli,” Dustin clarified.

“Really?” asked John, turning to look at the taller youth.

“What?” Dustin asked.

John shook his head.

“I think the original is in a gallery in Florence,” Dustin added. “It was a question on Jeopardy.”

It didn’t matter where the boys looked, everywhere there was an objet d’art.

“No way somebody doesn’t live in this house. There’s just way too many fancy things down here for someone to just leave them all behind,” Charles said. “I think we should get the hell out of here.”

John nodded. “As much as it pains me, I got to agree with Charlie.”

Walking back over to the steps leading to the outside, John pressed his forearm up against the door, but it didn’t budge. Handing Blake back his phone, John braced himself and tried to push with both hands. Still the door did not move.

“What the fuck?” he said, heaving from effort. Looking back at Blake and Charles, he asked, “Did you guys lock it or something?”

Both shook their heads no. “I just lowered it down when I came in,” explained Blake. “I didn’t hear a click or the sound of a latch catching.”

Dustin stepped up beside John. “Here, let me help,” he said. Together they pushed but the result was the same, the doors refused to move. They both pushed at the same door, nothing.

“That is just straight up weird,” commented Blake.

Charles starting getting fidgety. “There was nothing holding it down when we opened it,” he said, eye darting around the darkness in the cellar.

“Don’t start up with the ghost shit,” John cautioned, stepping down. “We’ll just need to find another way out upstairs. There were some stairs leading up to the main floor over there,” he said, pointing back out into the darkness.

The stairs did indeed lead up to main floor, though they were much narrow and steeper, allowing only one at a time. Opening the door at the top of the stairs, John stepped into a kitchen area. Old fashioned appliances hummed in the darkness as the other filed in.

“Shhh,” whispered Charles.

“You shhh,” countered Blake.

Moving into an adjoining hall, rich red runner carpets stretched down over the polished hardwood floor. The walls appeared to be expensive wood paneling and paintings hung along the wall. Although cluttered, everything was meticulously clean.

Stopping at one of the paintings, “It looks like the same chick from the Venus painting downstairs,” Blake said, holding his light on the painting. The others gathered around to see.

“Who’s the model Dustin? Riddle me that? Ha, found something you don’t know,” said John triumphant but hushed.

“I don’t know,” Dustin replied, studying the painting and shaking his head. “It looks like another Botticelli though,” he opined.

“Primavera, by Botticelli,” said an old raspy female voice from behind them.

Charles screamed, tone shrill and high pitched.

“Jesus fuck!” yelled John jumping away from the voice, grabbing an equally startled Dustin.

Blake dropped his phone, light flashing around as it tumbled to the floor before landing light facing upward, casting strange shadows on everyone’s faces.

In the bottom lighting, the woman seemed positively ancient, very small and withered, face a veritable road map of deeply etched wrinkles, a faded shawl wrapped around stooped shoulders. A flannel nightshirt hung to the floor. Long white hair spilled from her head and onto her back, patches of liver spotted scalp visible through the extremely fine hair. Her rheumy eyes were a faded hazel, one looked covered over by a milky colored cataract. “There is no money in the house,” she said, voice like dry leaves. A dark blood colored teardrop shaped stone dangling from a delicate gold chain visible where the shawl opened at her neck.

“Relax lady,” John said, raising his hands in a soothing manner, his own heart still pounding from the adrenalin surge.

“We didn’t think there was anyone here,” Charles added, panic still evident on his face.

“So you thought maybe to rob my house?” she asked, pulling her shawl tighter about her. “I am an old woman.”

“No, no,” said John in his best reassuring tone. “We just wanted to look and see, there are all sorts of rumors in our school about this house and we all thought it was abandoned, that’s all. We’re not here to rob anybody.”

“There is only me and my great granddaughter Simone here,” she said. Still looking at John, she pointed to the painting, “Simonetta Vespucci is the model for this piece,” she added.

“If you just point us to the way out, we’ll be out of your hair,” Blake said. “We didn’t mean to intrude and we’re very sorry to disturb you.”

The old lady nodded, fixing Blake with her good eye before she slowly turned and looked up the stairs. Turning back she smiled, a half dozen discolored teeth visible in her mouth. “I’ll see if she’s awake, it is rather late though,” she said before ambling toward the staircase.

“Wait, lady,” John said, taking a step toward her, “We just want to go.”

She paused, stopping by a push switch on the wall near the bottom of the stairs, “Nettie, my name is Nettie,” she said, clicking on electric light. Nodding to herself, she resumed her journey to the stairs.

“We’re very sorry, Nettie,” Charles added, but she seemed as if she did not hear.

Blake bent down to pick up his phone, checking it to see if it had been broken in the fall to the unyielding floor.

She smiled, “It won’t take a minute,” she said without turning, supporting herself by leaning on the bannister as she lifted her foot onto the first stair.

The boys exchanged glances with each other.

“We’ll just let ourselves out,” Dustin said, taking a step toward the entryway and speaking loudly to make sure she heard.

Another step, then another, she was muttering to herself as she ascended the wide stairs, “Been so long since we’ve had guests here, so long.”

Blake turned to John, “Dude, she is like a thousand years old,” he whispered.

“She looks like Yoda’s mom or something,” Charles added. “Or like one of those singing raisins on TV.”

“Scared the shit out of me,” John said with a nervous chuckle. “I think I might have left a rosebud in my ginch.”

They all laughed.

“There’s the door over there,” said Dustin, pointing at the double doors in the entry way.

Walking over, John tested the handle. Turning back, “Locked,” he said.

“No lever?” asked Blake, making a turning motion with his hand.

John shook his head. “Deadbolt,” he said.

“I guess we got to wait for Grandma Moses to come back,” Charles said.

“Sure looks different on the inside,” commented John, giving the entryway the once over.

“Pretty fancy,” agreed Dustin.

“Some this stuff looks really expensive,” John said picking up a brass ornamental figurine of a nude woman stretching off the small curio table and examining it.

“The old gal is lucky somebody hasn’t come out here and stolen a bunch of these things. I mean some of them look almost as old as her,” Blake said, “And have some serious value.”

“How was Julius Caesar in real life?” Charles asked

They all chortled, John set the figurine back where he found it.

Dustin walked to the door and tested it, shaking it slightly when it didn’t open

“I know how to open a door,” John quipped indignantly.

“Can’t hurt to double check,” Dustin replied, finding the door still locked.

Simone

“Nonna said we had guests,” said a female voice from the top of the stairs, slightly accented, melodic. All four turned their heads to see the young woman standing there, long house coat wrapped tightly around her. She was absolutely stunning, golden blonde hair with a slight wave hung loose and back over her shoulders and even at this distance, they could see her bright green eyes sparkle. Coming down the stairs, she seemed to glide, stopping in front of them. She was only an inch or so shorter than Charles, the shortest member of the quartet at 5’9”.

“I’m Simone,” she said, rewarding them with a breathtaking smile.

Each of the boys introduced themselves, babbling almost all at the same time.

She held up a delicate hand. “Please, one at a time,” she said, pointing first at one then the others until everyone had been identified.

“Nonna is making some tea, why don’t you come sit in the parlor?” she said, taking a couple of steps in that direction.

“We, ah, we were going to go,” Blake said, turning to look at the door

“Nonsense,” she said, flashing her magnificent smile. “It is cold and dark outside and it would be inhospitable to let you leave without at least tea to warm your journey.”

“I didn’t see her come down,” commented Charles, lips pursed.

She turned to Charles, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You said your nonna was going to make some tea, but she didn’t come down,” Charles said.

Simone smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. “There’s another set of stairs from upstairs that go into the kitchen,” she explained.

Glancing from the painting to the woman and back again, Dustin frowned. “You bear a striking resemblance to the young lady in the painting,” he said.

She smiled. “Thank you, it’s not often one hears she resembles the earthly manifestation of the Goddess of Love herself,” she said. “Now come,” she instructed, moving across the entryway to point into another room. She pushed on the light switch.

The boys did as bade, entering the parlor. Expertly crafted furniture, all looking like polished antiques filled the room, resting atop a fancy Persian rug. “Please sit, I’ll go and check on nonna,” she said, vanishing from the door.

“Holy crap!” hissed John, leaning forward.

“What a fucking babe,” Blake said, puckering his lips and shaking his right hand.

“I don’t know, there’s something off here,” Dustin voiced, brow furled. “She looks just like the girl from the painting.”

“Which is probably why they have the painting. What did Nettie say the model’s name was? Simonetta? Her name is Simone, probably named after the other chick,” Blake said.

Dustin frowned. “There is no way in the world her parents could possibly have known she was going to look like Simonetta Vespucci when she was born.”

“Is she, or is she not the hottest chick you have ever seen?” Blake asked.

“Yes, she is very attractive,” conceded Dustin, “But I’m wondering,”

“I’m wondering too, like why she’s not naked,” chimed in Charles, sniggering.

Dustin pulled out his cell, then frowned.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“Trying to look Simonetta Vespucci up,” he explained. “Hmm,” he said, finger swiping across the screen of his smart phone.

“What?” Charles asked.

“No service,” he replied, moving his phone in an arc around himself. “It’s like a dead zone,” he said.

Just then, Simone appeared at the door. “She says it’ll just be a minute for the kettle to boil.” She walked into the room and sat down, folding her legs under her. “Everybody drinks tea right?”

They all nodded, Dustin surreptitiously slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“You look like you’re about our age, but I’ve never seen you in school,” Dustin said, eyes narrowing.

She smiled. “Oh, I’m not from around here, I’m just here visiting my nonna. I already finished school. The real question is why are you boys here at this unusual hour, skulking around?” she asked, curious look on her perfect features.

“Ah, well, it’s a funny story,” John said.

“I like funny,” she said, urging him to continue, smile on her face.

“Well there was a big party out by the lake and the cops broke it up and we couldn’t go back to my car, so were started walking and found this house,” he said.

“And the funny part…” she said.

“Well we thought this was an abandoned haunted house, so we sort of challenged each other to come in here,” Blake added sheepishly, “You know.”

“I see,” she said. “And why would you challenge one another to break into nonna’s home? What reason is there for this?”

Clearing his throat, Charles explained “Well, there’s a, okay,” he paused, trying to find the right words, “The rumor in town is that this house used to belong to a witch and that she hung herself.”

“So you thought it was something you needed to explore?” she asked.

“It was more like a double dog dare than a need to explore,” John said.

Simone frowned. “Double dog dare?”

“It’s like a dare you can’t refuse, sort of,” Charles clarified.

“And so we snuck in through the cellar and your grandmother, nonna, scared the bejesus out us,” John said.

Simone smiled, bringing her hands to her mouth as she giggled. “That is funny, you thought nonna was the witch!” she said, mirth in her verdant eyes. “I’ve told her many times she needs someone to come tend the grounds, the house is starting to look a shambles, but she is stubborn and set in her way,” she said, dropping her hands back into her lap.

“It is starting to look pretty bad,” affirmed Charles, nodding his head. “Like a place where a witch might hang herself,” he added with a grin.

Getting up off the chair, smile still on her incredible face, Simone said, eyes wide in mock terror, “I’ll go check on the witch,” exiting the room, still chuckling softly.

“What I wouldn’t give to spend an hour inside of that,” John said, shaking his head from side to side.

“No way I’d last that long,” Blake said, grinning.

“You’re awful quiet Dustin,” Charles said.

“Don’t know, just getting a weird vibe, you know,” he said.

“Who cares, did you see that Simone chick, holy shit man. You’re probably starting to sober up, or gay,” Blake added with a chuckle.

Dustin smiled and shook his head, “That’s probably it exactly,” he said with an exaggerated eye roll. “I am absolutely beat though.”

The old woman appeared in the doorway, a serving tray in her gnarled hands.

“Here let me help you with that,” offered John, half rising.

“No, no,” she said shaking her head. Setting the tray down on the table in the center of the furniture, she lifted the painted porcelain teapot, age spotted hands shaking.

Blake got up and reached for the pot. She slapped him on the back of the hand. “I can do it,” she said. Slowly she filled each of the four delicate cups. Setting the teapot back down, she smiled at each of them, lifting a saucer and cup to each in turn. “You make sure you blow, it’s very hot,” she said, miming the action by puckering her wrinkled lips and blowing, the hairs on her upper lip moving with the force of the wind coming out of her mouth.

John sniffed at the dark liquid in the cup. “I don’t know,” he said, wary.

“You drink,” she said, lifting her hands under his cup, “Is good, make you strong.”

John took a sip and instantly wished he hadn’t. It took everything in his power not to spew the bitter liquid back into the cup. Forcing himself, he reluctantly swallowed. “Mmm,” he said, “Good.”

Blake raised his cup and took a big swig, eyes growing round as the translucent brown liquid made contact with his taste buds. Swallowing hastily, like nasty cough syrup and trying not to retch as the aftertaste sat on his tongue.

Charles and Dustin also sipped. Charles pushed his cup away, while Dustin closed his eyes and swallowed.

The old lady nodded and made her way out of the room.

“Blech,” said John, sticking his tongue out.

“Dude, you said it was good,” Blake said, “It was horrible!”

Charles brought his cup back up and dribbled the tea from his mouth back into it.

“That’s was nasty,” complained John, making a sour face.

Simone reappeared and John hastily smiled.

“How is the tea?” she asked, sitting back down, house coat parting slightly to reveal the deep red teardrop shaped stone dangling from a delicate gold chain laying on the smooth flesh of her décolletage.

“Good,” said Blake. “I don’t drink a lot of tea, but it’s pretty tasty.”

She laughed, a sweet sound. “Personally, I can’t stand the stuff,” she shook her head and grinned.

“Thank goodness,” Dustin said, returning the cup to the saucer and setting it back on the tray. “No offense to your grandmother, but, glah,” he said.

“I was only trying to be polite,” Blake said, also placing his cup back on the tray.

She chuckled. Getting up, first she stopped by John, extending her hand to take his cup and saucer before getting the other from Charles. Setting the cup back on the tray. She curled back up on the chair, a playful smile on her exceptionally pretty face.

“I feel wiped,” John said, hiding a big yawn behind his hand.

“It is late,” she said, “Perhaps you should remain the night,” she suggested.

Charles nodded, eyelids impossibly heavy.

“Yep,” John said, closing his eyes, ignoring the soft snoring sound coming out of Blake.

“I feel strange,” Dustin said, his voice sounding very far away in his own ears.

Simone got up and walked over to him. Leaning in close, he could smell a light floral scent coming off of her, she kissed him on the cheek, “Sleep now,” she whispered, touching her fingers to his eyes. Dustin closed his eyes, tucking his chin down to his chest as Morpheus embraced him.

A New Day

John awoke feeling like he’d been run over by a garbage truck. Daylight, muted by the single small frosted glass window, filtered into the room. Opening bleary eyes, it took him a moment to process the information his eyes were delivering to his brain. For all intents and purposes, the room resembled a bathroom, but was positively cavernous, like the inside of some domed sports area. He was lying on a plush mat beneath a sink attached high up on the wall above his head. There was a porcelain toilet of megalithic proportions near the wall with the window and an old fashioned enamel coated bath tub sitting on four clawed feet.

“What the fuck?” John mumbled sitting up. Scrubbing his eyes with his knuckles, he looked again. He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Climbing to his feet, he was a little surprised to find himself naked, but otherwise uninjured. Looking around he didn’t see any sign of the others.

“This is bizarre,” he commented, walking toward the open door of the bathroom. Peering out into the hallway, he didn’t see anyone so he ventured out, walking on the polished wood near the baseboard until he came to another open door. Craning his head to look inside, it looked like a bedroom, with bed, dressers, and closet cabinet. He saw the tiny form of Blake in the room, hands on hips, staring up at the surroundings.

Entering the room, “Blake!” John called.

Blake jumped and swiveled quickly. A look of relief washing over his face. Like John, he too was naked. Rushing over, he said, “Dude, like what’s the deal here?”

John shook his head. “I woke up on the bathroom floor,” he said, “Like this,” he extended his arms wide.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Blake said. “How come everything is so goddamn big?”

“Or we’re really small, can’t be more than a couple of inches compared to everything here in the room,” John replied.

“That’s not fucking possible,” chuckled Blake nervously.

“Yet here we are,” John said.

“You seen Charlie of Dustin?” Blake inquired.

John shook his head. “Just you so far.”

“Fuck I feel like crap,” Blake said.

John nodded, “Maybe it was the old lady’s tea?” he said.

“Ugh, that was foul, but c’mon, tea that shrinks you?” Blake quipped.

“Something did. I’m guessing we’re still in the old lady’s house, but I think we’re upstairs, the décor seems pretty much the same as we saw downstairs,” John informed.

Blake’s eyes grew wide. “That old biddy is a witch!”

“Please,” John said snidely.

“No, think about it. How else would you explain it?”

John turned to Blake, an angered expression on his face. “You know what? I can’t fucking explain it. I fall asleep in an old creepy house and wake up the size of a mouse on a bath mat in some stranger’s bathroom. There was no note there, saying ‘Oh by the way, I’ve miniaturized you and your friends.’”

“Geez,” said Blake, “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on,” he added.

John chuckled. “Dude, I get it. Either we are having the trip of a lifetime off of nonna’s brew, or we are in the twilight zone, because in the rational world people don’t just shrink.”

Blake nodded. “It could be witchcraft, that’s all I’m saying.”

John shook his head, “Sure, why not? That’s as good as explanation as any at the moment,” he conceded.

“I wonder where Simone and her grandmother are at?” Blake stated, looking around.

“Given that we’ve already agreed that theoretically it could be possible that we were victims of witchcraft, you now wonder where the witch and her smoking hot granddaughter are. Really? Personally, I think until we get some of this shit figured out, probably best to avoid them.”

Blake scowled.

John shook his head, “We got to find the others, I’m sure they are just as messed up as we are,” he said. Blake nodded as they left the room.

Charles and Dustin

Charles rolled over onto his side, the cold hard surface of whatever he was lying on rousing him from sleep. He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, then frowned. Although it was light out, everything was slightly out of focus. He reached up and touched his face, his glasses were nowhere to be found.

Squinting, he pushed himself up off the polished wood. Although out of focus, he could still see somewhat, finer details lost though. His mouth hung agape as he surveyed his surroundings. He was still in the parlor of the old house, except now the whole house was gigantic.

He wandered around some of the pieces of furniture in disbelief.

“John? Blake?” he heard from near the open doorway, it sounded like Dustin. “Charles?” called the same voice again.

“Over here,” Charles said from the concealment of skirting fabric of a chair near the portal.

“Thank Christ,” said Dustin trotting over. “This is completely messed,” he said, leaning forward and putting hands on knees as he caught his breath.

“I haven’t got my glasses, I can barely see,” Charles said.

Dustin nodded. “We are still in the old lady’s house,” he said. “I woke up on the carpet in the hall by the Primavera painting.”

Charles nodded. “I woke up here. I haven’t seen or heard from either John or Blake.”

“Me neither, but they’re probably here somewhere,” rationalized Dustin.

“How could we be shrunk down like this?” asked Charles, a touch of emotion in his voice.

Dustin shook his head. “I don’t know, but there is certainly some mysteriousness afoot,” he replied.

“I knew we shouldn’t have come here,” Charles said, voice almost breaking.

“But we are here, getting all emotional isn’t going to help us at this juncture, okay? Let’s get it together and see if we can’t find John and Blake. What do you say?” Dustin said, trying to be sympathetic.

Emotions reigned in, Charles nodded. “Okay. Where should we started looking?”

“Not sure. We will have to search the downstairs, there’s no way we can get upstairs even with you standing on my shoulders we wouldn’t be able to get up the stairs. We should look in the kitchen, maybe,” he suggested.

Charles nodded. “What if they’re in the cellar?”

Dustin paused a moment. “I hope not, spiders down there would almost be as big as we are,” he said with an involuntary shudder.

Charles shook his head vigorously from side to side. “We are not going to the basement.”

Without his glasses, Charles was still able enough to see to navigate without Dustin having to help. Back in the hallway with the narrow red carpet, Dustin paused in front of the painting.

“What is it?” Charles asked.

“I have a theory,” Dustin said. “I think Simone might be Simonetta.”

“What do you mean, like a vampire who never ages or something?” Charles asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Her accent sound slightly Italian and the resemblance is uncanny.”

Charles shook his head. “Oh man, I knew something bad was going to happen, I just knew it,” he lamented.

“C’mon let’s see the others are in the kitchen.

Moving along the baseboard in the hall, they came to the opening of the kitchen, the vast space sprawling out before them, the only sound the hum of the old refrigerator. Aside from the door they were standing in, there were four other doors in the room, one leading to the cellar, a narrow set of stairs leading up, one to a larder, and one leading into some type of enclosed porch or mudroom.

Scanning the room, Dustin frowned, “I don’t see them, you?”

“Half blind, remember?” Charles replied.

“There’s cup and saucer on the floor over on the other side of the kitchen,” Dustin said.

Walking across the kitchen, they came to stand beside the cup, similar in patterning to the ones from the night previous.

“Milk and cookie,” Dustin said, looking down at a single chocolate chip cookie as wide as he was tall on the saucer, and a quarter cup of milk.

“It could be poisoned,” cautioned Charles, clutching Dustin’s arm.

Dustin frowned and shook his head, sighing. “Here, I’ll test it just to be sure,” he said, crumbling off a piece of cookie and taking a bite. His eyes grew wide as he dropped the cookie fragment and clutched at his throat, gagging and choking.

“Dustin!” yelled Charles, trying to circle in around behind Dustin.

Dustin stopped and pushed him back, “Dude you’re naked, no way do I want you trying to Heimlich me when you’re naked,” he said.

“Fucking asshole, I thought you were choking,” admonished Charles, relieved, angry, and frightened all at the same time.

“Eat some cookie,” it’ll help with the headache to get some carbohydrates in your system,” Dustin said, breaking off another portion of cookie and handing it to Charles.

Charles took it and grumbled.

Meanwhile, upstairs

Wandering through the rooms on the upper floor, most seemed sterile, like they possessed no soul or vibrant sense of having been lived in.

Arriving at what John believed to be the master bedroom, the air in the room held a hint of some alluring fragrance, subtle, teasing the senses. A gigantic bed with night tables, an embroidered duvet hanging down, vanity, dressers filled the enormous room. There was an open door on the opposite wall leading into another bathroom. Most of the wooden floor was covered in a rich ornate carpet.

“This must be Simone’s room,” John said, closing his eyes and inhaling the tantalizing scent.

Walking across the carpet covering the floor, they circled around the end of the bed. In the corner of the room was metal stand towering many feet in height, like a coat tree except three delicate gold colored birdcages hung from it, all empty.

“Look,” said Blake, pointing to the cup and saucer on the floor at the foot of the metal stand and moving in that direction to inspect. “It’s a cookie!” he said loudly, standing by the plate and bending down to break off a piece.

John frowned, eyes still locked on the cages suspended overhead.

Following John’s eyes, “What?” Blake mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.

“Where’s the birds? I mean we saw all sorts of other crap stored away in the cellar, why keep empty birdcages in your room, doesn’t make sense does it?”

Blake shrugged, silencing his grumbling stomach with another bite of rich cookie.

John turned to face Blake, “I think those might be for us,” he said.

“The cages?” Blake asked, chewing away.

John nodded.

Blake shook his head. Wiping his hands together, he peered over the edge of the cup sitting on the saucer. “Milk,” he said, standing on his tip toes and reaching in to cup a handful of fluid before bringing it to his mouth.

“I think we should go,” John said, tone dead serious, walking over and taking a fragment of cookie for himself.

“I’m still eating,” Blake protested.

“Make it to go,” John replied.

Blake nodded, wiping the hand he used to get milk on his thigh and taking another hunk of cookie.

Leaving the bedroom, the only other thing they found at the far end of the hall was a set of steep narrow wooden stairs leading downward turning a corner about midway.

The pair stood there looking down the treacherous flight of steps. “These must be the stairs Simone mentioned last night, the ones that lead to the kitchen,” opined Blake.

“We know Dustin and Charles aren’t up here, so they’re probably down there somewhere.” Leaning forward, “Hey!” yelled John into the stairwell, cupping his hands around his mouth. He waited a moment, no response. “Dustin! Charles!” he hollered.

“Dustin! Charles!” Blake called.

John shook his head. “We might have better luck at the front stairs, at least we might be able to see them if they’re down there.”

Blake nodded.

Back in the kitchen

“It’s too bad we couldn’t get under that door,” Charles said, pointing to the porch egress.

Dustin frowned. “That’s probably the last thing we would want to do, going outside at this size would be absolute stupidity. Out there were are the food chain,” he said. “Imagine running into a cat or a dog, you’re about the same size as a Snausage.”

“I never looked at it that way,” Charles said, frowning, considering the ramifications.

“Let’s look at our situation. We are small, made this way undoubtedly by some agency of Simone or Nettie. Why?” Dustin asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do this to us, for what purpose?” he asked. “Then to leave out a treat?” he added, pointing at the saucer.

Charles frowned.

“Where are they now?” Dustin queried, looking around as if to emphasize his point.

Charles shook his head. “I don’t know, why would they make us small?”

“We are completely at their mercy, trapped like this.” He frowned, “I think this might be some type of game, some amusement, and I don’t see the endgame,” he suggested.

“But why? Why play a game like this?”

Dustin chuckled, “Because they can and we wandered in here, like flies onto a spider’s web,” he mused.

Charles shook his head, “Don’t talk like that Dustin, you’re freaking me out,” he said, eyes reflecting the panic he felt

Dustin fixed him with a half-smile.

“Seriously dude,” Charles said.

“So given our predicament, how are we to get back to our normal size?” Dustin asked.

Charles shrugged, “Maybe it’ll wear off and we’ll be fine,” he offered.

“Maybe, I guess, as long as there’s hope right?” Dustin said cynically. Turning away, he wandered over to the doorway to the larder while Charles, perched on the edge of the saucer watched, munching cookie.

Shelves lined both walls of the narrow darkened room, all sorts of dry goods and glass jarred preservatives on the shelves. A whisk broom and metal pan leaned up against the back wall. Dustin walked deeper into the shadowy room, examining the broom more thoroughly. Grabbing one of the long pieces of straw he pulled, testing it. He tried a few more, eventually finding one that was not attached. It was bigger around than his wrist and it took a fair bit of effort to draw the twelve inch long piece of straw out. Sweating with exertion, he grabbed an end, it wasn’t overly heavy he dragged it out of the larder.

Charles got up and approached. “What have you got?” he asked, eyeing the long slender piece of straw.

“Piece from the corn broom back there, I’m thinking if we stand it up in the corner of a stair, we can shinny up it, pull it up after and get up the stairs. It’s pretty rigid and durable, and we’re pretty light,” he said.

“I’m glad I’m partnered with you, no way Blake would’ve thought of this,” Charles said with a smile moving in around to pick up the other end. Together they carried it to the stair and leaned it up against the first stair, the straw easily higher than the 7 ¾” stair rise.

Pulling the bottom out to improve the climbing angle, Dustin said, “I’ll go first, then you follow.”

Charles nodded.

Dustin wrapped his legs around the straw and hand over hand pulled himself onto the first step. Turning, he motioned for Charles to follow. Copying Dustin, Charles climbed, Dustin helping him when he neared the lip of the step. Together, they pulled the straw up and repeated the process for the second step, then the third.

“I need a break,” Charles said, arms aching.

Dustin set up the straw and climbed to the fourth step, turning and sitting at the edge, the legs dangling over. “It’s like climbing a mountain.”

“Yeah, with mostly your arms,” Charles groused.

Dustin chuckled.

Cats and Mice

Blake and John had made it back around the hall and were standing side by side between the lathed spindles of the bannister on the second floor landing overlooking the entryway, eyes scanning the lower floor for any sign of their missing comrades.

John shook his head then looked at Blake, “You see anything?”

“Nope,” he replied, hand against the spindle.

“What do you think of trying to get down the stairs?” John asked, eyes still roving the panorama below.

Blake looked back toward the rise of the stair then back to John, “That would be like jumping off a two story house,” he warned, “And look how many stairs there are.”

John frowned, Blake was right. If they only had a couple of jumps, maybe, but one bad jump and you’d be left completely exposed. He was contemplating, when the sound of metal on metal disturbed the stillness as the key slid into the lock. The tumbler clicked and the door opened, Simone walked in, followed by another woman, a brown haired woman similar in height and roughly the same age.

Simone was attired in a nice patterned knee length summer dress cinched with a belt at her waist, blonde hair swept up and back. Small purse draped over her shoulder. The other woman was dressed in those black stretchy pants the girls at school were so fond of, enhancing the magnificent curves of her shapely bottom. She wore a short sleeved top, her long hair pulled back into a pony tail. Like Simone, she possessed aristocratic features that seemed impossibly pretty.

Closing the door, Simone walked over and set her purse on the small table against the wall, almost directly under where John and Blake were concealed by the base of the spindles. A broad smile on her face, “By now, you should all be awake,” she said, voice loud and echoing throughout the house, “And I’m sure you’ve all had an opportunity to appreciate the nuances of your newly found condition. You have been scattered about the house to enhance a little game of hide and seek. You hide. I am here with my friend Elizabeth and in a short while we are going to try and find you.” She turned and smiled at the other woman eyebrow arched, coy smile.

Elizabeth smiled back and nodded slowly.

“I don’t know if any of you have been able to find one another yet, but not knowing is part of the fun. Given how tiny and fragile you all are now, I feel obligated to caution you about attempting to get out of doors,” Simone warned, “There are significant dangers to you out there.”

From behind his spindle, John looked at Blake, “Dude, this is so fucked up,” he whispered.

Elizabeth looked up in their direction and for a moment he thought she had heard him but her gaze moved away, he let out a soft sigh of relief.

“This is a large house with a great many nooks and crannies and places to hide and I hope you enjoy the game as much as we will,” Simone said. “Now, I’d like Elizabeth introduce herself.”

“Hello little ones,” Elizabeth said pleasantly by way of greeting, stepping forward and addressing the empty space in the entryway, her voice alluring, exotic accent stronger than Simone’s. “Simone has told me all your names and described you to me, but I look forward to meeting each of you in person.”

“Fuck,” seethed Blake through his teeth, stretching the word.

Shaking his head, “We have got to find someplace to hide, and fast,” urged John, sneaking over and nudging Blake with an elbow.

“Where?” Blake asked, keeping his voice low, watching as Simone slipped off her shoes and vanished down the hall toward the kitchen.

Elizabeth sat on the intricate deacon’s bench and slipped off her running shoes.

“Back that way,” John said pointing back down the hall.

Blake nodded.

John took off like a shot, racing back down the hall deeper into the house, stopping to peer into the bathroom where he had initially found himself.

Blake arrived a few seconds behind, huffing and puffing, “Man you got to slow down, I can’t run as fast as you,” he said, sucking wind between words.

“Did you see how big they were? Imagine how fast those giant chicks can move,” John replied, turning his head to look at his friend.

He nodded. “What do you think?” he asked, motioning to the bathroom.

“Maybe the far side of the tub by those feet,” John replied, pointing, “But everything is so white, and I’m not sure there’s room enough for two, one of might be exposed,” he said.

Blake frowned. “I think it would be a good place to hide, hard for them to see,” he countered.

“Knock yourself out if you want it, I’m going to go look for someplace a little more secure,” John said.

Despite his thought the claw of the bathtub might make an excellent hidey hole, Blake didn’t want to be alone. “Where do you think?

“Master bedroom, last place she would think we would go,” John said.

“Except the cookie is there, and she will be going in and out of that room more than any other,” Blake countered.

“Exactly,” John said, making the pace a little more brisk.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Blake said.

John stopped. “Think about it, she’s thinking we are going to stay as far away from them as possible, meanwhile, we’ll be right under their noses. Dustin’s not the only thinker,” he said, tapping a finger against the side of his head.

Blake rolled his eyes and motioned for John to lead on.

Together the returned to the bedroom, Blake grabbing another piece of cookie. John found a spot under the far side from the door night table beside the bed. The opening in the bottom was small enough they could climb under and there was a gap between the back of the drawer and the rear of the night table.

The kitchen

When they’d heard Simone speak, Charles desperately tried to scale the piece of straw leading up to the fourth step, Dustin leaned over and extended his hand, as they could both hear the sounds of footfalls like thunder rumbling in the distance but rolling closer.

After helping Charles, Dustin pulled up the straw and laid it at the base of the next step before crouching in the shadows created by the weak light from up above. He motioned for Charles to do the same.

Simone appeared, looming tall and imposing as each stride carried her effortlessly from the hall across what to them was a broad open expanse, coming to stop before the fridge. Pulling the lever to open the white enameled door, she bent at the waist and peered inside. Dustin looked from her to Charles and back. His heart pounded in his chest, fearing any moment she might espy the two tiny figures trying hide in the feeble shadows of the back access stairs.

Suddenly, Simone stood upright, pivoting, “Do you want a lemonade?” she called in the direction of the hall.

“Sure,” came the accented response.

Grasping the pitcher, she turned and closed the door in a single fluid motion with a bump from her hip, and walked toward the counter near the sink. Opening the cupboard, she removed two glasses and poured the opaque yellow liquid into each.

More footfalls. “Everything okay?” Elizabeth asked, appearing in the doorway.

Simone smiled.

Fear tearing at his insides, Charles started to shudder involuntarily.

Holding his own breath, Dustin stared at him, silently willing him to remain calm, remain still.

Simone walked back to the fridge as Elizabeth entered and picked up a glass of lemonade. Simone returned, pausing she walked over to the cup and saucer on the kitchen floor. Crouching down, she inspected the cookie. Looking up at Elizabeth, she smiled. “They’ve been at the cookie,” she said, pointing.

Elizabeth nodded, “Boys and cookies,” she said, taking a sip of her lemonade,”Mmm, good,” she praised.

“I figure we’ll give them a little time to try and find some good hiding spots before we begin in earnest,” Simone said rising back to standing.

“Sounds good,” Elizabeth said. “I hate it when the hunt is too easy, I like the buildup, the tension, so much more rewarding at the end. Hopefully these lads will give us a good one.”

“Absolutely,” Simone agreed. “Let’s retire to the parlor whilst our tiny guests sort themselves out,” she suggested, moving off in that direction. Elizabeth smiled and followed.

Sitting down on the chair, Elizabeth took up a spot on the divan.

Dustin and Charles

Once the women had departed the kitchen, Dustin sprang into action, pulling the straw back up and setting it in place.

“I’m so scared right now,” Charles said shakily.

“Get yourself together Charles, we can’t stay here, you know that,” Dustin urged, but Charles didn’t move. “C’mon!” growled Dustin, walking over and seizing Charles by the arm, dragging him over to the straw. “We’ve got like another fifteen stairs to go.”

Charles grabbed a hold of the straw and began to climb, Dustin pushing him to try and hurry him. Step after step, Dustin drove them relentlessly. But once they turned the corner at the midpoint landing, Dustin allowed them to relax the pace somewhat. He knew the higher the got, the more likely they might have been noticed as they moved across the women’s natural site line should either of them wander back into the kitchen. “Okay take a minute,” he said, mopping sweat from his own brow.

Charles leaned against the wall and allowed himself to slide down.

“Halfway,” Dustin said, looking up at the second flight.

Charles gave him a thumb’s up, muscles aching.

“Who do you think Elizabeth is?” Charles asked.

“I don’t know,” Dustin said. “I can’t place her accent.”

“Like possibly another vampire?”

Dustin let out a sigh, “It’s totally light out right now.”

“They could be daywalkers,” Charles postulated.

“If they were vampires, why would they make us small? Now we probably have less blood in us than one of the little creamers they use for coffee. If I were a vampire, I would think more blood would be better,” Dustin rationalized, “Instead of two little juice cartons.”

“That does make sense,” Charles acknowledged. “What about the guy who does evil stuff but his painting is the one that suffers while he stays young?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Wilde, hmm,” Dustin said, looking over at Charles. “That’s an interesting notion,” he said, nodding, “Except the image in the painting suffers the ravages of Dorian’s hedonistic lifestyle, and here, the image of Simonetta is unaltered. Good theory though.”

“So basically we might be dealing with some type of black magic,” Charles said.

Dustin nodded, “That’ll work. You ready to get going again?”

Charles nodded.

Setting up the makeshift climbing device, Dustin motioned Charles over. The smaller boy groaned and pushed himself to standing.

Hide and seek

“I think that is an adequate head start,” Simone said, setting her glass of half-finished lemonade on a coaster on the table beside the chair.

“Did you have a strategy?” Elizabeth asked, finishing her lemonade.

“Charles and Dustin are down here, I thought we might start off with them then move upstairs,” Simone said with a smile.

Elizabeth nodded, big smile on her pretty face. “Where to start?”

“I left Charles in this room, Dustin in the hall, I think we should start here and move through each room one by one,” Simone replied.

“I think it would be good to look together, that way we can savor the prey together as we find them,” suggested Elizabeth.

Simone nodded and smiled. Getting down off the chair, she lowered herself to the ground, peering around at floor level for any sign of a little one. “Are you still in this room Charles?” she asked playfully, pulling up the skirt on the chesterfield and peeking underneath.

Elizabeth moved over closer to the door, and got down on her knees, bottom on her heels, hands in her lap as she watched Simone try to flush out one of the boys.

Searching each piece of furniture. Ensuring there were no holes or other places to stash themselves, Simone leaned back. “Not in this room,” she said, hands on shapely hips.

In the next room, the library-cum- office, Simone positioned herself near the door while Elizabeth served as the beater, to startle the boys into running.

Peering under the antique desk, Elizabeth turned back and asked, “Do you have a flashlight?”

“I have one in my night table upstairs,” Simone said. “I’ll get it,” she said, hopping up to her feet. Elizabeth could hear Simone’s footstep as the blonde haired woman raced up the front set of stairs and down the hall to her room.

Simone, sitting with her butt against the side of her king-sized bed, pulled open the drawer of the night table and took out the small hand held light. Closing the drawer, she turned to look over her shoulder at the little plate on the ground. Walking over, she picked it up and smiled, noting where John and Blake had eaten some of it.

Carrying the saucer in one hand, the flashlight in the other, she descended the back stairs and into the kitchen, where she set the saucer at the edge of the sink. Returning to the office, she handed the penlight to Elizabeth.

“The little ones upstairs have been nibbling on their cookie as well,” Simone said.

“Did all four get the elixir?” Elizabeth asked, leaning forward and shining the penlight into some of the darker recess under the desk.

Simone laughed. “I told them it was tea, and I’m pretty sure they all had some of it. It should make them all a little more hardy,” she said, crouching down near the door.

Elizabeth smiled and nodded, “They can be so delicate,” she said.

“Butterfly wings,” Simone said. “The elixir will help some, probably more so with Charles and Dustin, the other two are in relatively decent physical condition.”

“Okay,” replied Elizabeth.

As before, no trace of either boy was found. They systematically searched almost every room on the ground floor, meticulously exploring every nook and cranny that might serve as a potential hiding spot. The only places on the ground floor unexplored were the enclosed porch and the kitchen.

Reunited

They had made it to the second to last step when they had heard the sounds of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. Dustin motioned for Charles to pull himself back into the corner of the step where it met the wall.

The gigantic bare foot dropped right in front of Dustin’s face, the sound of it crashing in his ears as she quickly passed over and by him on her way down the stairs. It had been close enough he actually felt the air disturbance as it came down.

They watched as Simone descended the stairs down into the kitchen, saucer in one hand, something else in the other.

“We better hurry,” Dustin said, a measure of urgency in his voice.

Charles nodded. Propelled by fear of the close calamity, the final two steps were quickly conquered. There was very little cover to hide them in the long hallway. Staying close to the wall they ran toward the first door.

Peeking around the corner, “You watch the door,” Dustin said to Charles as he entered. “John! Blake!” he called, looking for a response.

“Dustin?” he heard John ask, voice sounding distant.

Dustin turned to Charles, “Over this way,” he said, motioning. Charles ran over and join him as they moved under the bed. On the other side, crawling out from under the far night table, they could see first John, then Blake.

“Holy fuck, am I glad to see you guys!” John exclaimed.

“Same,” said Dustin, clapping first Blake then John on the shoulder.

“No hugs,” Charles said, holding his hands up.

“How’d you guys get up the stairs?” John asked.

Charles laughed. “Dustin used a piece of straw from a corn broom. We still have it near the back stairs,” he advised.

“Fucking Dustin,” laughed Blake.

“So what do we do now?” asked Charles.

“Stay out of sight, for one,” replied John. Turning to Dustin, he asked, “You got a plan?”

Dustin laughed. “Right now I think they’re searching downstairs. If we can hear them coming up the front set of stairs, we might be able to use the piece of straw to get back down the stairs to the bottom floor.”

“That’s a long run,” John said, looking back to Blake, then Charles, knowing neither of them were strong runners.

Dustin nodded, “Or we can try and find a good hiding place up here stay put, hope for the best.”

“There was a good spot in the bathroom, the tub has clawed feet, might be a good place to hide out,” Blake said, looking to Dustin and Charles.

Dustin looked around. “This the master bedroom?” he asked. John nodded. “Why’d you guys hide in here, she probably spend more time in here than any other room,” he said.

“That was my point,” Blake responded. “That’s why I thought the bathroom would be a good place.”

“Dude, I told you, I don’t think it’s a good place,” John said.

“I think it is, better than here in her fucking room,” Blake replied. “You make one sound, she’ll find you. I thought we were done for when she barged in here,” he added.

“I don’t think any place is safe to hide,” Dustin said.

Blake turned to Charles, “At least while they’re downstairs, come check it out,” he invited.

John shook his head, “Waste of time,” he said.

“Well what the fuck am I supposed to do, hey?” Blake snapped back, pushing John in the chest.

“You better watch who you push!” John growled, eyes narrowing.

“Fuck you!” Blake said vehemently.

Dustin stepped between the two, a hand on each of their chests. “Listen, the whole situation is nuts and the last thing we need is to be going at each other.” Turning to Blake, “Why don’t you show Charles the place you’re thinking of and John and I can scout around in here, at least until cooler heads prevail,” he suggested.

“C’mon Charles,” Blake said, eyes still full of menace. Together they left the room.

“What was that about?” Dustin asked.

“Fuck, man. I woke up in the bathroom, it might be good for one of us, maybe two, but they get down low, and they going to see you, he doesn’t seem to get that,” John explained.

“We’re all on edge right now, trying to figure out what’s what, you know. He’s scared, just like all of us,” Dustin said.

John lowered his head, abashed.

The Bathroom

Blake fumed as he and Charles slowly jogged down the hall. “Fuck John,” he said, anger evident in his voice.

“C’mon,” said Charles, tone chastising.

“No, he’s always got to be right, you know,” Blake complained. “I’m sick of his put downs. The bathroom is a good spot regardless what he says.”

“We’re going to check it out, okay? If it’s a good spot I’ll tell John it’s a good spot, if it’s not, you have to accept that I’m only telling the truth, not picking sides,” Charles said, “But I don’t have my glasses so right now I’m half blind though.”

“Fuck,” Blake said, “I never even thought of that.”

It took them a few more minutes to get to the bathroom door.

Looking in, Charles said, “It is weird how ordinary things can take on a whole new meaning when you’re this size.”

Blake nodded. “I’ll keep watch,” he offered, “You go check it out and tell me if it’s not the perfect hiding spot,” pointing at the distant tub foot. “I think there’s a natural hollow it in.”

Charles nodded, crossing over the tiled floor, he moved under the tub toward the clawed foot.

Hearing indistinct feminine voices coming up from downstairs, Blake edged further out in that direction, trying to listen in on the conversation between the two women. A few more steps, almost could make out a word, two more steps.

Unintelligible, then the word “pee,” from woman with the accent.

Then it was very clear, “Up there, first door on the right,” Simone said.

Blake snapped his head back, first door on the right, the bathroom door, he could hear footsteps coming rapidly up the stairs. Turning, he ran, almost too fast, stumbling to catch himself from falling, sounds getting closer. He rounded the door frame and curled in behind it, heart pounding. He could see Charles still under the tub. He held both of his hands up to halt him, then Elizabeth suddenly appeared, moving to the sink. The sound of water splashing in the basin.

He figured he could make a dash just behind her feet and get under the tub without her noticing. He knew if he stayed put, and she sat on the toilet, he was toast.

Pushing off the wall, he made his move, just as Elizabeth shut off the faucet and pivoted to dry her hands on the hand towel on the rack over his head.

Charles watched in horror as the scene unfolded before his eyes, almost in some type of macabre slow motion. Blake started to run, she turned back toward the door, lifting her right foot.

Blake wasn’t fast enough, he didn’t see the giant foot coming down over top of him, and she didn’t see the tiny figure trying to dart passed her.  At the last minute he caught sight of the shadow falling over him and tried to make a last ditch effort to dive out of harm’s way, but the ball of her right foot near her toes caught the lower half of his body, crushing his tiny leg bones and pelvis with a sickening crunching sound. Blake immediately screamed out in pain, the sight freakish, his upper body writhing backward, the mashed lower part of him almost compressed flat under her foot, blood poured out his mouth as he shrieked.

Whether it was the crunch or the tactile sensation of stepping on him, Elizabeth pulled her foot back and looked down. Frowning, she crouched low as Blake shuddered and grew still.

Charles clapped his hands over his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. He had never seen anyone die before, let alone one of his best friends. Tears welled up and slid down his face as he tried to choke back emotion.

“Simone,” Elizabeth called, rising back to her feet and turning her head toward the door.

The sound of footsteps echoed off the wood as Simone climbed the stairs. “Oh Blake,” she said, looking down on the wreckage of his mangled body, then to Elizabeth.

“I didn’t see him,” Elizabeth explained. “I turned to dry my hands, and,” she held open her hands, palms up.

Simone shook her head. “Hand me some tissue,” she said, extending her hand as she crouched down. Taking the paper from Elizabeth, she scooped up Blake’s remains and handed the red stained folded tissue back.

Elizabeth dumped the body and blood soaked paper into the toilet. Turning, she lowered her pants and underwear and sat on the toilet.

“You know he counts as one of yours,” Simone said from the doorway as Elizabeth peed.

“I figured,” she said, dabbing herself and dropping the damp tissue into the toilet. Getting up, she turned and flushed, Blake’s body turning over and over as the water circled the bowl and carried him away.

“Shall we resume?” Simone asked.

“Indubitably,” Elizabeth answered, washing her hands again as the pair left the bathroom.

Charles remained where he was for a time before slowly ambling forward and down the hall.

Master bedroom

Dustin wandered into the walk-in closet, there only a few minutes when he reappeared. “John?” he called.

John looked to Dustin, who was waving him over. Together they went back in the closet.

Dustin climbed onto the white leather running shoe, a left, he pulled the lace through the eyelet. “Like that,” he said, pointing to the other shoe.

“What for?” asked John.

“The only thing we have in our favor is the fact they don’t know where we are, and if we can keep them guessing, it only bodes well for us. If we tie these laces together and anchor one end on one of the spindles at the landing, we’ll lower the laces down,” he paused, looking at another pair of shoes, “we might need three laces so the ‘rope’ will reach the floor,” he said, trying to calculate length.

“Dude, they’ll totally see it and we’ll be fucked,” John replied.

“I want them to see it, I want then to think everybody is downstairs, then they won’t be looking for us up here right?” he asked.

John smiled and nodded. “Very clever,” he acknowledged, the lightbulb coming on in his brain as he began to grasp the plan.

They were almost halfway done when they heard the woman Elizabeth call for Simone, her voice coming from down the hall. The sound of large feet racing up the stairs.

“In the shoe,” yelled John, eyes wide.

Dustin nodded and scampered into the runner, rolling down the inside to the toe.

In silence they waited, listening intently. Minutes dragged by, uncertainty gnawing. After what felt like an eternity, but probably no more than a half hour, Dustin peered out of his shoe.

Charles stood in the center of the master bedroom, swaying slightly from side to side.

Dustin pulled himself out of the shoe and jumped down, calling John after. Together they walked toward Charles.

“Charles?” Dustin called. Charles looked up and took a few steps toward his friends.

“Charles? Where’s Blake?” John asked looking behind Charles.

Charles shook his head and started to sob.

“No,” said Dustin.

Charles nodded, “The other woman, Elizabeth stepped on him,” he said, choking back emotion.

John shook his head, eyes filling with tears.

“Caught his lower body and squished him like a, a,” he broke down before he could finish.

“Oh man,” said john.

“He didn’t see her and she didn’t see him, but I saw it all,” he lamented.

Dustin nodded, resolute determination on his face. “Okay then, we need to get cracking on these laces,” he said, turning and walking back toward his shoe.

“Our friend just died,” John said.

Dustin stopped and looked back. “Yes he did and we’ll mourn him later, right now we have to look after the living.” He pointed at the other shoe. Climbing up on his own, he resumed the removal of the nylon laces.

Charles dropped to knees, face in his hands.

Dustin let out a long breathe, “He was my friend too, I loved him, just like I love you guys, but if we don’t keep our heads, who will we be mourning next? Please, my heart aches like yours, but we need to hurry.” He went back to work.

John frowned, wiping the tear away with the back of his hand. Climbing back onto his shoe he copied Dustin.

Charles looked up, sniffling. “What should I do?” he asked, wanting to do anything to distract him from what he had seen.

Dustin pointed to another shoe, “We need the lace, to make a rope.”

“Okay,” Charles said.

It didn’t take them long before they had the laces out, the two from the running shoes longer than the one Charles had removed. Rolling them up much like firehoses, they cautiously made their way back to the second floor landing. Knotting the laces together, Dustin looped an end around a spindle and tied it off. Looking out over the entryway, they slowly lowered the makeshift rope down. Dustin’s assumption of length was pretty close as about half of the third lace spooled on the ground.

“Okay, hopefully that will buy us some more time,” Dustin said, a self-satisfied nod.

“Time for what?” Charles asked, tone morose.

Dustin smiled, “Maybe this shit will wear off right?” he said, using Charles’ own words from earlier to instill some measure of hope in the demoralized boy.

Charles smiled feebly.

“Now we have to skedaddle before they find our rope,” Dustin said.

“Where to?” Charles asked.

“Back to the master bedroom, I want to see what supplies we might be able to salvage from there,” he said.

“Supplies?” John asked.

Dustin smiled.

Gone without a trace

“I swear, these two down here are pretty crafty. I mean I’ve checked all the usual spots the little ones tend to use, but I am amazed they,” Simone stopped midsentence, standing in the entryway near the opening to the parlor. “Are you kidding me?” she asked, bright smile on her face as she beheld the shoelace rope hanging down the wall from the stairs.

“What?” Elizabeth asked, coming up from behind.

Simone pointed at the rope.

Elizabeth laughed, “Inventive,” she said, walking over and giving the laces a tug.

“I want to say there’s no way Dustin and Charles made it up this rope since you had your pee, Dustin maybe, Charles definitely not. John coming down on the other hand, I could see that,” Simone said.

“But he would have to try and find the two down here, all the while trying to elude us,” Elizabeth said. “I doubt they established a pre-arranged rendezvous.”

“Or it could simply be a ruse to throw us off the scent,” Simone offered, contemplating.

Elizabeth smiled, “Should I untie it?”

Simone shook her head. “Make sure the knots joining the laces are secure though, I don’t want it coming apart should they go up or come down on that. I think we might want to move ourselves upstairs and do some searching there. We know the little buggers were in my closet,” she said, laughing again at the rope.

Elizabeth made sure the knots were tight before the pair climbed the stairs. “It’s pretty creative,” she said.

Simone smiled. “It is,” she agreed. “I’m wondering if maybe we should clip about a foot of it off, that’d make for a fairly decent drop, not enough to kill, but enough to sprain an ankle,” she said.

Elizabeth nodded. “Or force whomever might be climbing down to have to climb all the way back up,” she added.

Simone chuckled, “Tired little arms,” she said. “I’ll get some scissors.”

Simone cut the lace, leaving about twelve inches of space between the bottom of the rope and the floor. She chuckled, then looking at the shoe lace in her hand, she suddenly stopped. “This is from my Schutz Dubianna lace up heels,” she said with a frown.

Elizabeth put her hands to her face to hide her smile. “In your closet.”

Simone nodded, lips pressed together. “Whichever one of those little ones who dreamed this up,” she pointed to the shoe lace rope, “Is going to receive some extra special attention,” she said, nodding her head slowly.

“When we get to the perpetrator of the foul crime, you can exact just retribution,” Elizabeth said sternly, but failing to contain her smile.

“Oh yeah,” she said, nodding. “Old Testament style.”

Elizabeth laughed. “John is the one still upstairs, right?”

Sophie nodded, setting the scissors and her severed shoelace on the small table. Looking up to the second landing, she said, “I’m coming for you John, do you hear me?” voice loud and strong.

Chuckling, Elizabeth said, “You want to go upstairs and start looking?”

Simone paused a moment, considering. “Hmm, you feel like taking a shower?”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded, coy smile playing on the corners of her mouth. “Together?” she asked.

Simone smiled back, but held her hands up, “Of course, but nothing serious until we capture at least one of our little friends though,” she stipulated.

“Fan the flames?” Elizabeth asked.

Simone nodded. Together, they started up the stairs.

Upstairs

 “Food and water will be essential if we are to continue to survive,” Dustin said as the trio hurriedly walked back toward the master bedroom.

“There was a plate with a cookie and some milk in the master bedroom but Simone took it,” John said.

“There was one downstairs too,” Charles said. “Chocolate chip.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t stash some,” John lamented.

Charles stopped, looking down at himself, “I’m all out of pockets and I don’t think I could have hidden some cookie prison style,” he said, a wisp of a smile touching his weary face.

“It’s not the hiding, it’s the eating afterward,” John stuck out his tongue and made a scrunched up face.

Dustin shook his head, “That’s not a chocolate chip,” he said, snickering.

“That would be almost as nasty as nonna’s tea,” Charles said, smiling more openly.

“I think Blake took a power swig after John said it was good,” Dustin chuckled.

John and Charles both nodded, but the mention of their dead friend brought the somber atmosphere back to group and they continued to walk the rest of the way in silence, each coping in their own way. Once inside the bathroom off the master bedroom, they stood before the massive gleaming white bowl.

“The porcelain altar,” said Charles softly.

Dustin smiled. Slipping in beside the toilet bowl, he placed both palms against the porcelain. “See feel how cold it is, there’s already a little condensation here,” he said.

Joining him, “It is cold,” John agreed.

Charles tested it as well and nodded.

“This will give us an opportunity at least to have access to fresh water,” Dustin said.

“Drinking off the toilet?” Charles asked, making a sour face

“Water is water,” Dustin replied.

“I’m kind of with Charles on this one,” John said, a skeptical look on his face.

Dustin shook his head. “It’s clean water,” he assured.

“What about food?” John asked.

“There is the other cookie downstairs, but I don’t know if they’ve left it there or not,” Charles said.

Dustin shrugged. “There were some dry goods in the pantry too,” he added.

“What happened to Nettie?” asked John

“I was telling Charles, I have a theory about that, I think Simone and Nettie are the same person, and that person is Simonetta, get it, the wordplay on their names? Since this game or hunt as they call it began, we have seen nothing of the old girl,” Dustin said.

“Like a ghost or a vampire,” Charles added.

John frowned, “Vampires are susceptible to daylight,” he asserted.

“Daywalker,” said Charles.

John nodded. “Possible.”

“No, not like a vampire, or a daywalker, more likely black magic, remember Charles?” Dustin corrected, looking to the shorter boy. “We had this conversation.”

“So you’re saying the old girl might be a witch?” John asked.

“I’m saying I think there’s only one girl, and yes, she might very well be some type of witch,” Dustin said.

“Who hung herself?” John asked.

Dustin shook his head, “No.”

“I like the daywalker theory,” John said, turning to Charles.

“I’m coming for you John, do you hear me?” rang out Simone’s voice.

John froze, “What did I do?” he asked looking to Charles then Dustin. “Why me?”

“She named you specifically,” Charles said, eyes round.

Dustin shrugged.

The sound of large sized footsteps approaching, caused them to scurry toward the back of the toilet and hide.

Coming clean

When Simone entered the bathroom, she clicked on the light. Completely naked, body toned and lithe, beautiful, she possessed a little neatly trimmed thatch of blonde pubic hair above her genitals. Turning on the faucet in the shower, she stuck a hand in and tested the water. Waiting for the hot water, she came over to the toilet and sat down, the sound of urine splashing in the bowl before she swiveled her hips and flushed. A plume of steam beginning rising out of the shower.

Testing the water again, Simone said, “It’s perfect now,” walking into the spray of hot water.

Elizabeth walked in, like Simone, she too was completely nude, magnificent body sculpted. Passing by the boys, she stepped into the shower and pulled the transparent curtain.

John peered around the front of the toilet, looking through the sheer curtain as the two gigantic women began to kiss one another, hands roaming over naked bodies. Dustin put his hands on the back of the toilet while beads of condensation began to appear.

“See,” he said to Charles.

Charles nodded.

John returned, face flushed, “You guys should really check that out,” he said.

Dustin looked John in the eye, but his hand pointed down, “Um, we are all not clothed and maybe you shouldn’t be watching this, um, yeah,” he said.

John looked down, suddenly embarrassed by the obvious signs of arousal as he lowered his hands to conceal his excitement.

Despite his doleful condition, Charles chortled slightly.

“They are so totally hot,” John defended. “Like watching the most amazing porn, but on a giant Imax screen.”

“They killed Blake,” Charles reminded, deflating the mood.

“You yourself said it was an accident,” John replied, “I for one, think we owe it to Blake, to at least look, he would’ve have approved of that.”

Charles nodded. Moving forward, he looked up at the two women making out in the shower. “I wish I had my glasses,” he said, squinting.

“I wish I was recording this on my phone,” John said.

Dustin walked over, “Look, I found a hair tie on the floor,” he said, showing off his fabric coated elastic band. Following the eyes of the others, he looked up. It was like watching two goddess embracing, loving, touching, a mesmerizing sight to behold.

“So if we somehow survive this, we must never speak of this,” Dustin said, turning to shield himself from the other two boys.

John nodded, clearing his throat. “Agreed.”

“I’ve never been with a girl,” Charles confessed.

“Never?” asked John.

Charles shook his head.

Dustin backed away, unsure of what to say, focusing instead on his find.

“One day buddy,” John tried to reassure.

“What’s with the hair thingy?” John asked.

“I have an idea, we are going to need another shoelace and if we can find one, a paperclip,” he replied.

John frowned and shook his head. “MacGyver,” he said.

Simone shut the water off and pulled the curtain back. Stepping out of the shower, water spilling from her exquisite body to the bathmat and floor below, she grabbed a towel and wrapped around herself. Wiping her feet, she walked from the bathroom as Elizabeth stepped out and selected a towel of her own.

“You know,” Elizabeth said, drying the water from her body as she was walking out of the bathroom, “The two from downstairs could have tried for the cellar because I don’t think they could have gotten under the door to your mudroom.”

“Definitely not the mudroom. I don’t know about the cellar,” Simone said from the other room, loud enough for the boys to hear. “Maybe behind the fridge or under the stove, I don’t think they could have gotten in the cupboards.”

John peered around the end of the kick for the bathroom counter. Grinning wickedly, he looked back to the other boys before skulking out across the floor to a spot where water from the women’s bodies had formed a small puddle on the linoleum. Getting down on hands and knees, he leaned forward and put his lips to the water and sucked in some of it.

“Gross,” said Charles, screwing up his face. “That could be water directly from one of their ass cracks.”

John looked up and smiled, “I wish.”

Dustin frowned.

It sounded as if there were movement coming toward the bathroom and John scurried back beside the toilet. Simone walked in and bent forward, tussling the towel through her long blond hair. Straightening up, she hung the towel on the rack on the wall. Pausing at the fogged out mirror, she used her finger on it, drawing a heart in the steam on the glass, her finger making a low pitched squeaking noise as she completed the image.

Finished, she smiled and clicked off the light.

Gesundheit

Once Simone had left the bathroom, Dustin cautiously moved around the bottom of the cabinet until he near enough to the door frame he could peer into the other room.

The women were lying atop the bed, the lamp on the night table closest the door was on as the two women looked and sounded like they were still making out.

Turning back, Dustin saw Charles out near the middle of the floor, squinting up at the large beveled mirror over the sink in the counter.

“She knew we were here,” Charles hissed, eyes wide now as he looked up at her drawing.

John walked out beside Charles to see what the shorter boy was looking at, “It’s a heart,” he said, frowning.

“She knows,” Charles repeated, voice urgent, panicked. “Why else would she draw a heart?” he asked.

John motioned Dustin over. The lanky blond loped over to join the others. “What do you think?” John asked, pointing up at the finger drawn heart on the mirror.

Dustin frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know, a warning of some type,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders, “What I do know is this is our chance to try and get downstairs,” he said, “While they, ah, get all hot and bothered.”

The two other boys nodded.

“I think it’s a trap,” Charles said, grabbing Dustin by the arm.

Dustin frowned. “Could be. But if you’re right and she does know we’re here, then being here is not good for us, right?”

Charles nodded slowly.

“C’mon, let’s go,” John said.

Dustin walked over, Charles in tow. “I need another shoe lace,” he said.

“What for?” John asked, eyes on the women not Dustin.

“I have an idea,” he said.

“Pretty risky,” John said.

Charles nodded in agreement. “I think we should stay together, the last time we split…” he left the rest unsaid.

“You guys try and creep around the side wall and get under the bed and I’ll go for the closet,” Dustin said, removing the hair tie from over his shoulder and handing it to John. “Wait for me there.”

John gave him a speculative look before nodding and looping the hair tie over his shoulder.

“You guys go over to that side of the door and when I give the signal, we’ll all move simultaneously,” he instructed.

Lining up on either side of the door, Dustin peered out and nodded. John nodded back and together he and Charles followed the wall around until they were beside the far side night table. Meanwhile, Dustin crept in the opposite direction, vanishing into the shadowy darkness of the closet.

In the closet, Dustin found the companion lace to the single lace used in the rope. Climbing up, he began to systematically pull the lace through the eyelets. As he picked up speed, microscopic fibers released by the friction action of passing through the narrow eyelets became airborne. As Dustin breathed, he incidentally drew some of those same fibers into his respiratory tract, tickling the back of his throat and irritating his sinuses. About halfway through the process, he needed to stop to stifle a cough. He tried to swallow to calm the persistent sensation, without success. He tried to clear his throat as silently as possible, when suddenly and unexpectedly he sneezed, an explosion of noise in his mind. He began pulling the lace through the last two eyelets as fast as he could.

Simone suddenly sat upright in the bed, “Did you hear that?” she asked Elizabeth, turning her head slightly and listening intently to the silence.

Elizabeth cocked her head and frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t hear anything,” she said.

“I think we may have a little visitor here,” Simone said playfully, moving forward to the end of the bed and flopping onto her stomach, feet to the headboard, arms folded under her as she looked into the darkness of the closet.

Elizabeth hadn’t heard the sound, but positioned herself similarly beside Simone.

The blonde looked at her and smiled. “In there,” she said, eyes moving to the darkened doorway of the closet.

Dustin felt his heart pounding in his chest, his palms sweaty. He quickly rolled up the last of the short lace and moved deeper into the shadows, looking for a place to hide.

John and Charles successfully circumnavigated the room, slipping under the bed unseen, listening to the conversation above. John looked at Charles, the smaller boy eyes round with fear. Using hand gestures, John motioned for them to move toward the door, expression on his face conveying the urgent nature to move. Charles nodded quickly. Around the night table they ran, crossing under the bed and around the other night stand. John stopped to peek up at the bed. Pulling Charles after him, they snuck out into the hall and began running as fast as their little legs would carry them toward the back stairs.

Getting up off the bed, Simone knelt down in the doorway to the walk-in closet, her shadow adding to the darkness within. “Fee fi fo fum,” she said, grin on her face.

 Elizabeth came to stand behind her, eyes trying to penetrate the fuliginous veil.

Dustin could see her massive frame silhouetted in the door as he slid into the toe of one of her shoes near the end of the closet. Twisting sideways, he braced his feet on one side and his shoulders on the other in an attempt to secure himself.

Reaching up, Simone flicked on the light switch and warm light bathed the closet. “You know I felt you watching us John, Elizabeth and I, when we were in the shower,” she said coyly.

Dustin tried to breathe evenly, counting to four on inhale and then exhale, his heart racing like a hummingbird’s. He could hear the sound of footwear being moved.

Simone looked inside another shoe, tapping the heel in her hand to force anything lodged near the toe to fall before handing it to Elizabeth.

Suddenly the shoe he was in was being lifted off of the ground. He pushed as hard as he could with his legs to drive his shoulders and back against the opposite side of the shoe, he also used his hand to press down. The shoe tipped down, light spilling inside before it was suddenly flipped around. The first impact, caused him to slip a little, the pilfered shoe lace fell down into the heel.

“We may have a winner,” Simone said, tapping the heel of the shoe against her hand again, this time a little harder. Elizabeth knelt down beside her, eyes on the shoe.

The jarring impact caused Dustin’s feet to lose purchase and he tumbled head first down into the heel. Simone rolled the shoe onto its side and spilled the captured boy into her open hand.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, then frowned, Dustin?” she said, a surprised look on her face. “You are the little shoe bandit?” she queried, grinning down at the wide eyed toe headed boy in her hand.

He rolled to his side, trying anything to just get off the hand, but she simply closed her fingers over him and pinned him to her palm before he could succeed.

Simone turned to Elizabeth, raising her hand, “It’s Dustin,” she said, showing her the trapped little form. “Dustin, this is Elizabeth,” she introduced.

“Hello Dustin,” Elizabeth said, smiling at the frightened lad. Turning to the other girl, “I thought he was supposed to be downstairs,” she said.

Simone reached down and took the boy by one of his legs, lifting him aloft and dangling him a few inches, feet to him, in front of her face. “I must say I was not expecting to find you in the closet,” she said, shaking her head. “How on earth did you possibly manage to get up the stairs?” she asked.

Eyes wide, he kept his mouth shut, not out of some mock bravado, he just thought he might vomit.

“C’mon then,” she said, rising to her feet and turning toward the bed.

Watching the ground recede at an alarming rate, he stomach did revolt, rewarding him with a mouthful of half-digested cookie as she moved.

Climbing up onto the bed, the women each lay on their sides, Simone on the left side of the king sized bed, Elizabeth on the right, facing one another, depositing Dustin in the space between their exquisite naked bodies.

“Cat got your tongue?” Simone asked, reaching down with her left hand and touching the side of his face tenderly with the tip of her index finger.

“You said you could sense us, how?” he asked, kneeling on one knee.

“Us?” asked Simone, flicking a quick glance at Elizabeth.

Jumping up off the bed, force enough to throw Dustin from his feet, Elizabeth closed the bedroom door, while Simone quickly scooped up Dustin and climbing off the bed, put him in one of the suspended cages.

Simone smiled as she looked around the room, eyes bright, “Come out come out wherever you are little darlings,” she said, tongue tucked into the corner of her mouth, as she moved slowly back toward the walk-in closet.

Dustin climbed to his feet and grasped the bars of his cage, a hint of smile touching the corner of his mouth, silently praying he bought enough time for Charles and john to flee.

Descent

By the time Charles reached the stairs, wheezing, John had already set up the straw and was one step down. Wrapping his leg around the straw, he slid down it much like a firemen’s pole.

“What about Dustin?” Charles asked, still taking huge gulps of air.

“For now he’s on his own just like we are,” John said, positioning the straw and dropping another step.

 Charles copied, sliding down. “Do you think he’s okay?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” John replied re-positioning the straw and dropping down.

Again Charles followed suit. Arriving at the next step, “What’ll think they might do to him?” he asked.

John let out a sigh, “I don’t know Charles, fuck man. Dustin is pretty clever, he’ll figure something out. As to what and why, I don’t know!” he said, voice getting louder, frustration and anger bleeding into his voice.

Charles looked down. Step after step the pair made their down to the lower floor. On the second to last step, John made it down, but as Charles attempt to descend, suddenly the straw bent in half and broke. Charles fell approximately ten feet by his scale, landing awkwardly on his right foot.

John came over, kneeling down beside the fallen boy. “You okay?” he asked, putting his hand on Charles shoulder.

“I think so,” Charles said, getting to his feet with John’s help and putting some weight on his foot to test it. Looking at John he nodded, “It’s alright,” he assured.

John nodded. “We still got one step to go,” he said, looking over the edge at the drop.

“What are we going to do?” Charles asked.

John looked at Charles and then at the drop and frowned. “I’m going to hang over the edge, I want you to climb down me and drop from my feet if you can, that way it’ll not be as far for you,” John said.

“I don’t know,” Charles said, looking down.

“I guess we each jump then,” John said.

“Wait,” Charles said, “Okay we’ll do it your way.”

John nodded. Moving to the edge, he lowered himself over.

In theory, the idea seemed sound, until Charles tried to climb over John, dislodging his hand and the pair of them fell to the ground below, each getting the wind knocked out of them.

“Look, the cookie is still there,” Charles said, sitting up and pointing at the dish.

John got to his feet, giving himself the once over. He reached out a hand to Charles and helped him up. “Let’s grab what we can carry, and find a good place to hole up,” he suggested.

Charles nodded. Together they walked over to the cookie, breaking off manageable pieces.

Dustin

From within the confines of his delicate cage, Dustin watched on as the two gigantic women, both still nude from their recent shower, scoured first the closet then the room looking for John and Charles.

Simone walked over toward the suspended metal wire cage, breast flesh jiggling marvelously with each step as she approached, he was at a height even with her collarbones. “They do not appear to be in here,” she said, little smile on the corner of her mouth as she looked down on him.

He smiled back and shrugged. “If you could sense us in the bathroom, why can’t you sense them now?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow, and trying to understand how she could ‘feel’ them.

She paused, mouth pursing. “It’s is very difficult to explain to someone unfamiliar with my background. What I sensed in the bathroom was the proximity of purity in an aroused state. As Elizabeth and I were showering, whichever one of you is the virgin in the group, and I’ll guess probably Charles, got a little, shall we say excited. I’m sensitive to those kinds of things,” she said with a smile.

Elizabeth appeared beside Simone. “She should be sensitive to love, her genetic inheritance comes directly from the goddess of love herself,” she supplied.

Dustin nodded and chuckled. “Venus on a half shell, right, that was you in the painting?” he asked, visualizing the painting in the cellar.

Elizabeth smiled, “Imagine the honor of being the model in a picture featuring your mother,” she said.

“Venus?” he asked, “The Goddess Venus?”

“She has so many names, I just call her mother,” Simone said, reaching up and unfastening the gate on the cage door and opening it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, backing away from her hand as she reached into the cage to collect him.

“Silly, it’s time to play,” she said, cutting off his avenue of escape and getting her hand around his lower body and abdomen.

“Play?” he asked, squirming in her grip and trying desperately to push himself out of her hand.

Clear of the cage and with the prospect of a long fall, he stopped his effort to escape, not that he was enjoying any degree of success in his attempt.

Bringing her hand before her chest, “Don’t you think Elizabeth is absolutely beautiful?” Simone asked, opening her hand and allowing him to stand in her palm.

“Yes she is very beautiful,” he acknowledged, footing a little unsure, “You’re both probably the two most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life.”

“That’s incredibly sweet Dustin. It’s okay you can touch her,” Simone said, bringing him close enough for him to reach out and put his hands on her nipple.

Reaching out, he touched Elizabeth’s flesh, caressing it slightly, appreciating the warmth, the texture of it.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and smiled as the tiny little youth stroked her. “Very nice,” she murmured.

A big smile splayed Simone’s face, “Oh you shy little devil you, you’re the pure one I sensed in the bathroom,” she said.

He nodded slowly, “It’s true, I’m a virgin,” he admitted. “You can sense that?”

She grinned and nodded. “I’m surprised, you’re a handsome boy with plenty of wiles, I would have thought for sure you would have had an opportunity to have experienced the joys of a woman before.”

“It just never seemed to really happen,” he said sheepishly, looking up at her, though he continued to massage Elizabeth’s nipple slightly smaller than his own head.

“I guess we’ll have to pull out all the stops for you then,” Simone replied, sucking her lower lip between her teeth suggestively.

Elizabeth nodded. “Have you ever kissed a woman?” she asked, looking down at the boy with both of his hands on her stiffening sensitive flesh.

He snorted, “Of course,” he replied.

Simone raised the hand she held him in and brought it Elizabeth’s mouth. Elizabeth smiled and puckered her plump lips. Leaning forward, he puts his hands on her lower lips and kissed it.

Simone brought him back around and kissed him similarly. Pulling him away, she said, “Now we’ll all share a kiss.” Opening her mouth, she extended her tongue and moved her hand back up toward her face. Leaning forward, she closed her lips over Dustin and slowly sucked him into her hot mouth.

Dustin didn’t know for sure what was going on as he was tumbled about inside Simone’s mouth. Her powerful tongue moved him about at will, coating him thoroughly with her saliva. Opening her mouth slightly, letting light in in, he could see Elizabeth’s lips approaching, then there were two tongues, swirling, intertwining, he was moved back and forth expertly between their mouths.

When the women broke the kiss, he was back in Simone’s mouth. Leaning forward, she let him slip through her lips into her hand.

Landing in her hand, he immediately wiped the saliva from his face and took in a big breath of fresh air.

“Not too bad for your first real kiss” Elizabeth asked.

He coughed and nodded.

Simone looked at the bed and smiled, Elizabeth nodded and climbed onto it. Moving over to the bed, Simone transferred him over to Elizabeth’s hand and climbed up beside the other woman and lay down. Elizabeth pushed Simone onto her back, setting Dustin on Simone’s firm right breast. Holding eye contact, she lowered her head down, mouth opening to take the rigid left nipple inside. Capturing it, she teased it with her tongue, extracting a noise of delight from Simone, before releasing it.

It was all nearly too much for Dustin, watching the passionate exchange as his young inexperienced mind was overloaded.

Moving her head over to the other breast, Elizabeth brought her tongue down and licked both Dustin and the nipple in a single pass. The next time, she lowered her mouth over top of Simone’s breast and Dustin, sealing him in and using her tongue to stimulate the hard nipple. He wasn’t sure how long he was in her mouth, he felt himself becoming faint.

Removing her mouth, Elizabeth, reached down and took Dustin into her hand before moving closer to the foot of the bed and betwixt Simone’s thighs. Holding him feet first at the opening of Simone’s swollen sex, she eased him into her slowly. He could feel the sleek hot tissue part around him as he was entering her, the silky muscles undulating around him as he was drawn in. Her scent was clean and intoxicating, overwhelming his senses as his body vanished into her passed his knees, then waist, and to his the juncture where his arms met his torso, then Elizabeth was pulling him back out again, agonizingly slowly, before pushing him back. Back and forth she moved him, slowly without urgency. Simone began to rock her hips, trying to capture all of him on each in stroke, yet still Elizabeth tormented the sodden vagina until at once Simone let out a gasp and cry of pleasure as she came, her contractions pulling him deeper inside. Struggle as he might, he could not resist the demands of his sweet prison as the air was being crushed from his lungs as he was pulled in and her secretions poured into him. He felt two fingers grab his left hand and gently he was pulled from the pink vice holding him fast. Reluctantly, Simone’s pussy yielded her prize as Elizabeth pulled Dustin free.

Still holding him by a single hand, Elizabeth lifted him over her face and lowered him down. Catching his legs between her lips, she slurped him into her mouth, lips closing behind him. His whole world was topsy-turvy, up and down were impossible to differentiate until he felt Simone’s tongue and he was passed from one mouth to the other.

When Simone put him back into her hand, she was lying on her stomach between Elizabeth’s parted legs. Bringing him closer to Elizabeth excited sex, Simone held him back a couple of inches, a few feet for him. He was welcomed with her scent, slightly different but no less arousing, heat radiating off the aroused flesh. She brought him close to Elizabeth’s vagina, pointing out the anatomy. “Don’t just go after the clit right away. You’ve got to tease her, titillate her senses until she can’t possibly stand another second,” she said, kissing the labia majora on either side.

“If you are going to please a woman, using your mouth, you need to understand what a woman likes,” she advised, using her free hand to open Elizabeth delicate inner lips. Still slick from Simone’s mouth, she slid him in, feet first until he was in her to his chest. Letting him go and leaving him embedded, she lapped away the swollen prominence of Elizabeth’s pleasure giving button. He could feel the tissue around him tightening as Elizabeth’s pleasure mounted. When she came it was in a rush, cream seeping out all over and around him as she convulsed and clenched with each pulse of ecstasy.

Grinning, Simone moved down and put her lips over Dustin, pulling him free and drawing him back into her mouth, savoring the liquid pleasure he was drenched in. She contemplated for a moment tipping her head back and allowing the lanky youth to slide down her throat and into her stomach, but decided against it, at least for the time being, there were still so many new things to teach him. Opening her mouth, she pushed him out onto Elizabeth’s stomach before moving up and sharing another kiss with her.

“Mmm,” Elizabeth cooed, “That was wonderful.”

Dustin staggered to his feet. He’d lost track of the number of times he himself had climaxed during the union.

Moving onto her side next to Elizabeth, Simone looked down at Dustin, “How was that for a first time?” she asked.

Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away as spots danced before his eyes, he grinned and nodded, then passed out.

John and Charles

Holding his chunks of cookie, John looked over at the door leading down into the cellar. “What do you think?” he asked.

Charles looked and immediately shook his head.

“Dustin and I talked about it, but there could be some big ass spiders down there,” he replied, eyes still wide.

John shuddered, “Ugh, spiders,” he said, visualizing one as big as a large dog. “I wonder if she has mice?” he asked, looking back to the other boy.

Charles sniggered a little, taking small delight in seeing john uncomfortable. “If we could catch one we could ride it,” he said, “Hi-ho Squeaker, away!”

John shook his head. “C’mon, we need to get the hell out of here before one of those chicks comes down here,” he said.

Grabbing as much as they each could carry and still run effectively, the pair headed for the hallway leading back toward the front. Stopping near the table where the shoe lace ladder hung down, John pointed up. “They cut it,” he said.

Charles stopped, wheezing for breath in an effort to keep up with John.

“Do you think they actually got Dustin,” Charles asked, doubling over.

“They got him pinned in the closet, yeah, I think he’s toast,” John said. “There’s no way he can come down that,” he added, shaking his head. “We’ve got no way to warn him.”

“What do you think he wanted the other shoe lace for?” inquired Charles.

John turned, “Fuck if I know what the hell he was plotting.” He shook his head and pointed to the deacon’s bench near the door.

Charles turned, shaking his head as they looked at Elizabeth’s shoes tucked neatly to the side.

“Fuck my life,” John said, “Or Dustin’s I guess.”

“They probably put him in one of those cages,” Charles offered.

John let out a breath. “Dude, you need to rein this shit in, you’re driving me crazy with all your babble. I’m not trying to be an asshole, but seriously. For all we know they stomped on him and he’s with Blake now, I don’t bloody know. He’s our friend and I hope he’s okay. I know you’re worried, now c’mon, there’s a gap under that bench we might be able to squirm under and it’ll allow us to keep watch for the chicks in a bunch of different directions at the same time,” he said.

Charles nodded, doing his best to restrain the emotion he felt threatening to spill out. John walked over, transferring his cookie pieces into one hand and put his free hand on Charles’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright,” he said, wondering inside whether or not his odds of eluding capture might be better without Charles.

Simone and Elizabeth

“I thought you were going to swallow him,” Elizabeth said standing beside the bed, a glint in her eye as she pulled up her underpants.

“I thought about it,” Simone acknowledged, pulling her panties up. Holding the elastic forward, she picked up the unconscious Dustin and slid him into the crease of her pudenda, allowing her panties to hold him tight against her. She gave her hips a little wiggle feeling a delightful sensation from his tiny body.

Elizabeth grinned, “How does he feel, our little cherry? Nice?” she asked, cheeky smile on her face.

Simone nodded, touching the outline of his head through the sheer material holding him fast. “This one might be a keeper,” she said, before bending over and reaching down to collect her brassiere.

“So what’s the strategy?” Elizabeth asked.

“I have a strong suspicion little Dustin here might have been the mastermind, which means Charles and John may be a little lost and vulnerable right now,” she replied. “What do you think, bra, or no bra?” She asked, holding up the bra.

Elizabeth smiled, “You have perfect breasts, no bra,” she answered. Herself going without support as she pulled the tight shirt over her head.

“You know, it’s kind of funny and I don’t know what it is, but I just want to punish John, is that wrong?” Simone asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Punish?” Elizabeth asked.

Simone smiled wickedly, “Use with reckless abandon,” she said.

Elizabeth pondered a moment. “I wonder,” she said, pulling on her black yoga pants.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, he’s probably a bit of a player this little John of ours, a little heartbreaker, that’s maybe what I’m feeling. The purity of our little virgin just overshadowed it and clouded my perception,” Simone said, raising her eyebrows and flashing the other woman a smile.

Elizabeth nodded, “You are your mother’s daughter and affairs of the heart, good or bad, are right up your alley, and if you can focus in on that, you’ll have his little behind in your hands in no time,” she said.

Simone smiled, “I might just might decide to take him ‘up my alley,” she said, swiveling her hips and smacking herself on a delightfully rounded bum cheek.

“Poor little fellow,” Elizabeth said, extending her lower lip in a faux pout.

Simone chuckled, “If he’s what I think he is, it’s high time he got some comeuppance,” she said, making a fist and shaking it.

“They’ve given us a good little chase so far though, I’ll give them that,” Elizabeth said.

Simone nodded, “Not too bad,” she conceded, “I’ll see if I can hone in on John, but there’s always the tried and true,” she added, clearing her throat. “Hey you guys, are you down here?” she asked, voice a perfect imitation of Dustin’s, sliding a snug pair of shorts up her smooth long legs and over her hips.

Elizabeth grinned and shook her head. “It’s almost unfair,” she said.

Simone chuckled, “Mother says all’s fair in love and war,” she said, an emphatic nod of her head.

“If anybody, she should know,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Where do you want to resume our little hunt?”

“I’m thinking the little darlings have probably snuck downstairs while we enjoyed Dustin,” Simone said, eyes alight.

“You think?” she asked, pursing her lips and cocking her head to the side.

“I do. I wasn’t expecting to find Dustin up here and they’ve somehow found a way to get between floors, I’m thinking they think we’ve already searched downstairs and probably won’t go back down,” Simone answered.

“But, if we surprised them up here, do you think they might have tried to hole up somewhere?”

“We’ll do a quick sweep up here, see if I can feel John. Then we’ll each go down the stairs at the same time, one in front, one in back,” Simone advised.

Elizabeth nodded, “It’s your party, I’m just happy to have been invited.”

Simone walked over and kissed her on the mouth before saying, “Let’s go see if we can’t find our two little lost ones.”

Elizabeth smiled.

John and Charles

Tucked under the deacon’s bench near the front door, John rolled onto his back, the cool floor making his skin pucker. Shaking his head, he growled.

“What?” Charles asked, eyes wide open.

“This waiting is driving me crazy man,” he groused.

“It’s safer here than if we are out in the open,” Charles reminded.

John shook his head. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” he said.

“What do you think we should do?” Charles asked.

“What did you guys scout out while you were down here?” John asked.

Charles frowned. “Well, I woke up in the parlor, then Dustin came into the parlor and then we went down the hall into the kitchen, then we climbed the stairs to the upstairs where we met up with you guys,” he supplied.

“I want to go out and take a look around, some of the room maybe you guys didn’t get into,” John said, “They’re upstairs now, it should be safe.”

“They were downstairs when all of a sudden Blake got stepped on,” he warned.

“Nothing against Blake, but he was slow,” John said.

Charles snorted. “I don’t care how fast you think you can run, one step and they got you dude,” he said, hoping to dissuade John.

“Fuck it, you wait here,” John said, crawling forward and out from under the bench.

“John don’t man,” Charles pleaded, reaching his hand toward the other boy, but John was already out. Charles huddled in on himself, he didn’t want to be alone, but he was scared to go out. Part of him wondered whether John was just trying to ditch him.

Climbing to standing, the hair tie still looped over one shoulder, John brushed himself off. Looking back at the bench, he nodded slightly, he didn’t know how Dustin put up with all the pissing and moaning. Setting off, he went toward the hall by the painting where Dustin said he woke up. Instead of going toward the kitchen, he made a left into another hall with three doors. Two on the left hand side, one at the end. Jogging along the polished hardwood, he kept near the edge of the wall. Reaching the first door, he crouched down and evaluated the gap. Satisfied he could get himself under it, he dropped onto his belly and slithered through, his sweat dampened skin making a squeaking noise on the wood as he moved.

Rising to standing, he looked around and let out a low whistle and started walking toward the middle of the floor, turning as he walked, taking stock of the room. It looked like some type of library or study or something, but there were clear glass framed cases mounted on the wall with pretty fancy jewelry in some of them. Big snazzy antique looking desk, all carved with intricate designs. Two of the walls were lined with shelves from floor to ceiling and filled with all sorts of books, the air had a musty odor, not strong, but noticeable, like faint mildew.

Circling the desk, he rubbed his hands together, there was what looked like a phone cord hanging down right next to an electrical cord. He gave it a couple of test tugs making sure to not pull something down on his head from above. Pulling himself up on it, he waited, seemed secure. Hand over hand he climbed, scaling it pretty quickly and pulling himself up onto the desk. A blotter covered a large portion of the desktop. There was also a lamp with a green glass shade and chain pull like you see in some libraries on the corner, a cordless phone in a cradle near the lamp, closed laptop with a cordless mouse. He shook his head, if only he could get that open, he might be able to send for some type of help. There was also a fancy set of pens standing upright in a holder atop a lacquered wooden plate.

Walking near the edge, the pen drawer over the chair well was slightly open. Lying on his stomach, he peered into the drawer. There were more pens, pushpins, a penny, and other assorted stationary type items he could see. He frowned, unsure if he dropped down whether he might not be able to get back out and whether or not there was something of use in there. Deciding not to risk it, and not seeing anything of particular value on the desk he started walking back, pausing when he found a paper clip. He looked down at it, brain nagging him he should take it. He took a couple more steps, then turned back to look. Shaking his head, he walked back over and unslung the hair tie and wedged it through the paper clip, then pick them up and pulled in back over his shoulder, the paper clip on his back. Sliding back down the cord, he crossed the room and exited.

Slipping back out into the hall, he moved down it to the next door. Creeping under the door, the interior of the room looked like an unused bedroom, similar to the one upstairs. Looking at the bunch of clothing lying on the bed and the shoes on the floor, his face lit up. All of those garments were the stuff the four boys had been wearing when they had gone to the party. Nodding with a smirk on his face, he knew if only he could get up on the bed, his cell phone was in his pocket. He remembered Dustin couldn’t get a signal in the parlor, but that didn’t mean the ‘Emergency Calls Only’ feature wouldn’t work, 911 and the place would be swarming with cops. His only concern was whether or not his phone still had enough battery life. If it did, “Check and mate you sexy bitches!” he said as he moved toward the bed.

John

Crossing the room, John was able to climb onto the night table beside the bed via a cord attached to the lamp on the bedside table. Taking a running start, he jumped across the space between the table and the bed, rolling forward when he landed. Standing up, he smirked to himself as he looked at the distance he crossed.

Moving across the bed, he climbed over all of their clothes, the smell of smoke from the fire at the party lingering faintly to the fabric, until he found his pants and navigated down to his hip pocket where he kept his cell phone. He hadn’t used his phone much at the party, a couple of photos, but that was all, so he figured he should still have some juice left in it.

Pulling the phone out of his pocket proved to be a difficult task given his size. He actually wished Charles was there to help, though he doubted Charles would have been able to climb the cord. Able to extract the phone far enough to activate it, he swiped his hand across the screen, there was a no service indicator, and an emergency calls only message. The battery read thirteen percent. Touching the small green phone icon in the lower left of the phone, his keypad came up. He touched 9, then 1, then another 1. The phone started ringing.

“911 operator, what is the nature of your emergency?” asked the welcomed female voice from the other end of the line, a slight drawl in her speech.

John clenched both fists and shook them triumphantly. Leaning in close to the microphone, “I’m trapped in a house and one of my friends is dead,” he said, voice excited.

“If you are in immediate danger, please take yourself to a place of safety and if you can please remain on the line,” she instructed.

“I think I’m safe for the moment, but like I said, one of my friends is dead and another one maybe too, I don’t know,” he said.

“Alright sir, what’s your name?” asked the operator.

“John, John Haddonfield,” he answered.

“Okay John, can you tell me what is going on?” encouraged the woman.

“Me, Dustin Jamison, Charles Lee, and Blake Stanton were at the party out by Wilson’s Pond. We started walking back to town and came across the old house on Townline. Looking for,” he paused, “A place to spend the night, we got trapped in the house,” he said.

“Is that your current location? The old derelict house on Townline?” asked the operator.

“Yes,” he replied. “Except, the place isn’t derelict, there’s people here and they have me and my friends trapped,” he replied.

“I see, but you feel you are okay for the time being in your current location?” inquired the operator.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’m directing one of our patrol cars and an ambulance out there immediately,” reassured the woman. John’s heart soared, but then he felt a stab of panic. What if the cops came and they met the crazy old woman and drank some of the shrinking tea, then everybody would be screwed. He needed to try and explain the unusual circumstances.

“You better send more than that,” he advised.

“You said one of your friends is deceased, can you identify who for me please John?”

“Blake, he was crushed to death,” he provided.

“Are you certain he is dead?”

“No doubt,” John answered, “His whole lowered body was squished flat.”

“Did you see this?”

He hesitated, frowning, “No, Charlie, Charles Lee, told me he saw it happen.”

“Did the house collapse on Blake, is that what is happening out there?”

“No, something else is happening right now, our lives are in danger, I’m not sure, please you got to get some help out here,” he said.

“Rescue vehicles are on the way John, I just need you to try and keep calm and stay with me on the line as long as you can safely do so, okay?” advised the woman.

“Okay.”

“That’s good, you’re doing great. What of your other friends John, what can you tell me about their current situation, do you know?”

“Dustin has been captured and I don’t know what might have happened to him. That was over an hour ago, probably two, I’m not sure. Charlie is hiding when I left him,” John said.

“Is there any assailants or other people currently in the house with you right now John that you know of?”

“Yes, there is Simone something Pucci, blonde maybe 5’6” and an Elizabeth roughly same height, and maybe an old lady named Nettie.”

“Are they in danger too john?”

 “No, they’re in the house here, stalking us.”

“Stalking you? What do you mean?”

John took in a deep breath. If he explained to the operator what was really going on, she would think he was nuts, but if he didn’t explain the situation, the cops might be walking into a trap.

“John, are you still there?” asked the operator, tone concerned.

“Yes,” he said. “I think we’ve been drugged, it’s all very confusing to try and explain.”

“Please John, it will help a lot if you can provide me with as much detail as you possibly can,” she explained.

“Okay” he started, “When we came into the house, we met an old lady and her granddaughter who gave us tea. I think the tea was poisoned or spiked or something, because after we drunk it we all passed out. When I woke up, my clothes were gone,” he supplied.

“Do you know what might have been used to drug you?”

“I don’t know, some sour ass tea or something. Tasted butt nasty.”

“But you don’t know what was in it, or even if it was tea?” she inquired.

“No, I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. Can you tell me where in the house you are currently John?”

“I’m inside what looks like a spare room downstairs off of the main hall, second door down, on the left,” he said.

“Are you hidden in a closet or under the bed?”

“Not exactly,” he replied.

“Please John, if we are able to identify where people are in the house, it will help the police and ambulance personnel find your injured friend,” she encouraged.

“Okay, now I know this is going to sound crazy and I want you to know I’m not fucking around,” he paused, trying to put the words together in an order that would sound less insane, “My friends and I have been shrunk to only a few inches in size.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry, did you say, you’ve been shrunk, like made small?” asked the operator, John thought he could detect she was trying to suppress a laugh.

“That’s correct,” he answered, tone a little sour. “I told you it was going to be hard to believe, but it’s true, we were shrunken. That’s how Blake got killed, he was stepped on by Elizabeth.”

“Your friend who was crushed was stepped on?” repeated the woman.

“Yes, and they flushed his corpse down the toilet,” he stated.

Another pause.

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Sorry John, yes. Where are you currently hiding?”

“I’ll be hiding in the right front pocket of my blue jeans lying on the bed in the room I described,” he said.

“I’m sorry John, did you say, inside the pocket of your blue jeans?” she asked, this time, failing to stifle the giggle in her voice.

“I told you it would sound farfetched, but it’s true, I swear,” he asserted. “I’m not crazy or loopy.”

“Okay John,” answered the operator, controlling the mirth in her voice, “You have to admit it does sound kind of fantastic, but you did say you believe you were drugged right?”

“That’s right, but I don’t feel impaired or high, just really small.”

“Okay,” she answered, a couple of giggles. “Do you think you might be hallucinating?”

“I don’t think so, but maybe, I don’t know,” he answered. “It’s not funny. Blake is dead and god only knows what has become of Dustin.”

“And you’re small and hiding in your own pants pocket?”

“Right. Listen, I hear something from out in the hall,” he said, lowering his voice.

“Okay John emergency services should be there very soon,” she assured.

Touching the end call on his phone, he pressed the button on the side to make the screen go dark before climbing into his jeans pants pocket. He just hoped the cops would be here soon. 

The heavy sounds of footfalls descending the stairs alerted Charles to the arrival of one of the women. Lying on his side, he peeked out from his hiding place under the deacon’s bench, able to see as Simone reached the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly she stopped and Charles’s heart leapt into his throat, worried maybe she had somehow detected him. She removed a cell phone from her pants pocket and looked at the screen. She smiled at the device and brought it up to the side of her head, “911 operator, what is the nature of your emergency?” she asked, a hint of southern accent in her voice.

And then there was one

Charles shook his head, bewildered by Simone’s odd conversation as she moved down the hall. Re-positioning himself, to peer down the corridor, he saw Elizabeth join Simone and together the two women walked toward the parlor. Simone touched the device in her hand and suddenly Charles could hear John’s voice. The 911 call was a trap! He wanted to yell and warn John but was too afraid he would get caught. Charles listened to every word as the women tricked John into revealing exactly where the boy was hiding. Fear gouged him in his belly, what if John told them where he was? What if the deacon’s bench had been compromised?

“So that’s where our little John is,” he heard Simone say, rising to her feet and tucking her cell phone into her pocket.

Elizabeth chuckled. “You up for another round?”

Another round of what

Simone giggled, “Always,” she answered as the two women strode passed.

Sliding out from under the bench, Charles glimpsed in the direction the woman had moved. He took a couple of steps but heard the sounds of the women returning. Like a deer in the headlights he froze, panic rooting his feet to the wooden floor.

Simone was holding something in front of her, big smile on her lovely face, Elizabeth looked on. It was John! She was holding John in her hand. He couldn’t hear what the other boy was saying, but the women seemed too engrossed in their capture to take note of the tiny motionless figure a few inches beside the deacon’s bench as they ascended the staircase.

Once they were gone, Charles collapsed to his knees, head in hands. Sniffling, he wiped his runny nose across his forearm.

What would Dustin do?

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he got to his feet, resolved not to quit.

Looking back down the hall from whence the women had come, he wondered where the hair tie was and why Dustin had wanted it. He knew where John had been hiding, so he made the decision to see if he could find the hair tie John had taken with him.

Moving cautiously down the hall to where John indicated he had hidden himself, Charles found the room, John’s pants lying half on and half off the bed.

How had he gotten up to the bed? He tried to see if he could use the rough denim material to try to get up but hit was like trying to climb the side of a canvas tent. He frowned. Moving around the room, he found the cord behind the night table and pondered. Like climbing the rope in gym class, he slowly pulled himself up and onto the table. Looking back, he grinned, filled with pride for his accomplishment.

Moving to the edge near the bed, he looked at the gap between the table and the bed and frowned. He was sure John was fleet enough of foot to vault the chasm, but Charles doubted his stubby legs would be able to generate enough speed for him to make it over. He was so close. He had come too far to turn back. It took him three attempts to muster the courage to actually attempt to jump across. On the third try he came up short, colliding with the edge of the bed, hands clutching for anything to prevent from falling. Managing to get enough material to hold on, he desperately grabbed at the fabric above and tried to pull himself up. Adrenalin pouring into his body like NOS into an engine, he drew himself up, panting and heaving at the effort to survive. He chuckled nervously. Padding over, he found John’s pocket and the hair tie, a paperclip on it. Holding them over his head, he let out a yell of triumph.

Pocket Pool

Stashed in the pocket of his own jeans lying on top of the bed, he could hear a creaking sound as the bedroom door opened slowly. He held his breath. There was no way the cops got here that fast, could they? He frowned. Suddenly his world was tossed around as the pants were lifted up off the bed and he fell into the bottom of his pocket.

A soft hand snaked in around him and pulled him free, holding him upside down by his legs, he twisted to see who had grabbed him. Elizabeth.

“There you are!” Simone said, leaning in close, smile on her face.

“Ha!” he shouted, “You’re too late, cops are already on their way, going to be here any minute!” he hollered.

Simone frowned, lower lip protruding as she shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “Sorry.”

John’s smile faltered as Elizabeth reoriented him in her grasp so he was upright. “But I called,” he said, an unpleasant feeling gnawing away at his stomach, undermining his confidence.

“And I answered sugar,” Simone replied, using the same voice as she had on the phone. “Did you say pocket?”

John’s heart sank and he wanted to yell and scream, but was too deflated.

“I don’t suppose Charles is down here hiding with you?” Elizabeth asked. “Hiding somewhere nearby perhaps?” She moved her head and took a brief cursory look around the room.

“I left Charles upstairs, near the bathroom, I don’t know where he would be by now, he was too slow for me and couldn’t keep up so I left him behind,” John replied, hoping he sounded convincing.

Placing her hand out toward Elizabeth, Simone received John and grinned. “I’ve been waiting to catch you John, and funny that you should use the word behind,” she said teasingly.

“What?” he asked, not comprehending her reference.

She nodded. “You’ll see,” she promised.

“Upstairs?” Elizabeth asked, glancing toward the door.

Simone held John close to her face and nodded slowly. “You are a bit of a Lothario aren’t you, I sense it now,” she said as she left the room.

“I don’t know what that means,” he replied.

“Fond of the ladies,” she answered.

He frowned.

“A use them and lose them kind of boy,” Elizabeth said with a tsk-tsk.

John swallowed hard, eyes narrowed, what the hell were they talking about? He tried to stay focus on Simone, he didn’t want his eyes to give anything away as they moved passed the deacon’s bench.

“Not quite as innocent as our little Dustin,” Simone said. “A trail of broken hearts in your wake.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

Both women laughed together, as if sharing some joke only they understood.

Once they were up in the master bedroom, Simone set John on top of the king sized bed. He immediately looked up toward the cages suspended on the stand, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of Dustin.

Removing her clothes, Simone saw where John was looking. She grinned and pull out the elastic of her underpants, taking hold of Dustin and laying him on the bed,

John gasped, seeing her deposit the limp body of his friend further up the bed. Moving quickly across the bed, John knelt down beside Dustin, the smell of Simone’s sex clinging to the unconscious boy.

“Dustin!” he said, taking his friend by the shoulders.

“He’s all used up,” Elizabeth said, sliding her nude body onto her side of the bed, “For the moment.”

Simone brushed John back toward Elizabeth and picked Dustin up in her hand. Walking to the cages, she tilted her head forward and kissed his face, before placing him inside.

Turning, she sauntered back to the bed, hips swaying, “John, John, John, time to play,” she said, climbing onto the bed and moving toward him on hands and knees.

Her movement shook the mattress, knocking him from his feet. Leaning forward, she opened her mouth and took a hold of one of his legs with her lips, making a growling sound in her throat as she sucked him back into her mouth.

He screamed until he was pummeled by the movement of her tongue coating him in her saliva. For the next hour he was passed back and forth mouth to mouth as the women kissed, him powerless to fight against the power of their tongues. They took turns, cradling him with fingers and inserting him into each other, drenching him in the fluid of their pleasure. He anally inserted, abraded raw by friction as he was used and used again to deliver pleasure to each of the women. At one point, Simone and Elizabeth, while in a scissor position, each possessed a part of him inside their pussies, grinding against each other slowly. True to her word, Simone made sure to exact retribution for any girl he might ever have wronged.

When they were finished with him, John hung onto consciousness despite wishing for the kiss of oblivion. His stubborn body refusing to quit, just barely staving off darkness. Lodged firmly in Simone’s tight rosebud with only his head outside of her body, the sphincter of her anus firm around his neck trapping his entire body in the tight muscular channel of her ass. He feebly tried to move his arms but the force holding him was unrelenting, unyielding.

“Mmm, I think I’m spent for now,” murmured Simone, a blissful glow coloring her face as she rolled onto her side facing the door, knees pulled up.

Elizabeth came into view over the round of Simone’s ass cheek, she smiled. Leaning in close, she kissed John’s whole face, before closing her lips around the entirety of his head. He could feel her tongue swirling around his head and face as she coated him in saliva.

When she drew her lips back up and over his face, she laughed when she saw she had drawn his hair up and into a point.

Simone made a small noise and wiggled her butt a little.

Placing her index finger on the top of John’s head, Elizabeth pushed down, the crinkled bud grudgingly opening at the pressure and the saliva allowing him to slide right in before her hole closed back around him.

“Night, night, John,” she whispered, kissing the delicate little starfish before rolling on her side and cuddling with Simone.

Dustin

The sounds of love play over, warily Dustin cracked open an eye, peeking through the delicate bars of the cage. Arms and legs entangled, the two women reclined on the bed, of John there was no sign. Letting out a breath, he examined the cage confining him. The latch was fairly rudimentary, a bend in the metal at the edge of the door just snapping in on itself. Bracing himself, he pushed against the bars with his legs, a grin of satisfaction on his face when he felt it pop open. Looking down, the drop was a little intimidating and he knew if he fell he would die. He wondered if anyone else had ever escaped from the cage, or had they just remained perched awaiting whatever fate the women might dispense. Where were the previous occupants of the cage? Were they free? Or were they dead? Stepping through the door, outside the cage, he pulled the door back to appear closed. Looking at it, he nodded. He lacked the leverage to pop it back into the locked position, but by being close it might fool a casual observer from a distance, and by casual observer, he meant one of the women. Drawing in a breath, he scaled the bars to the top of the cage, like monkey bars in elementary school. The hook at the top was easy to climb up and over as were the metal hangers coming off the stand. The stand itself was more problematic, the girth of the metal was very near that of a telephone pole from his perspective, and very smooth. Sitting at the top of it, he wrapped his legs around the metal to see if he link his legs, if he could, he might be able to lower himself down to the ground. Locking his feet, he nodded and began to shinny down the pole. He found it fairly easy at first but by the halfway mark it was torturous, his legs burned, not just from the effort of continuous exertion, but also feeling utterly depleted from his encounter with the women and a lack of any food in his belly. Clenching his teeth through the pain, he pressed on, sliding faster than he would have liked given the weakening state of his exhausted limbs. Reaching the bottom of the stand, he found he needed a moment to steady himself, his fatigued legs wobbly and threatening to buckle. He chuckled softly to himself. Pausing, he listened to the sounds of the women breathing, hoping and praying one of them didn't get up suddenly. Creeping around the edge of the wall, he returned to the closet door. Moving into the darkness, he located and collected the shoelace Simone had lobed back into the closet and coiled it up before looping it over his shoulder. Peering around the corner of the door jamb, he skirted the wall and made his way to the door leaving the bedroom. He paused at the door, looking back to the bed where the two females slumbered. A wistful smile touched his lips, it had been both the single most amazing encounter in his short life but also the most harrowing. He wondered if he should go back, but then John crossed his mind. Where was he? Why hadn’t he been put in a cage? Adjusting the rolled up shoelace, an expression of determination on his face, he exited the room and into the hall. He didn’t know if John and Charles had used the piece of straw or had climbed down the lace ladder, but suspected the former. Gambling on his hunch, he made his way toward the lace ladder. It was still attached and dangling down. With the sun having gone down, the room was cloaked in darkness, that creepy vibe returned, that sense of foreboding as he got down and climbed onto the lace and began to descend. When he reached the second knot in the rope, he realized the lace beneath moved enough to tell him that it no longer reached the ground. He suspected they had cut the lace, making the final drop over three conventional stories to him. Straddling the knot in the rope, like a tree swing gave him an opportunity to rest his completely spent limbs. Moment passed, he unslung the shoe lace from his shoulder and tied it to the shoelace above the knot and allowed the rest of his new lace to fall to the ground below. He grumbled a bit as he had a different use in mind for the lace, but near the deacon’s he espied a lace up set of shoes and nodded. Transferring to the new lace, he allowed himself to slide down, like a fireman down a pole. He wished coming down the stand could’ve been this easy. Reaching the floor, he darted across the carpet and under the deacon’s bench, lying on his back, sucking wind, little body soaked in the sweat of effort. The smell of something wonderful, something delicious touched his nostrils. Rolling his head, he saw some pieces of chocolate chip cookie stashed under a corner of the bench. He smiled to himself. This is where Charles and John must’ve hidden he guessed. Puling himself over, he grabbed a hunk of cookie and greedily began to devour it, ravenous, feeling the nourishing food replenishing his near empty tank.

He wondered if this is where they caught John and if so, where was Charles. How had Charles managed to elude capture and not John, no way on earth Charles outran John, or either of the women for that matter.

He understood the short term amusement the women were enjoying, but he wondered about long term. He surmised they couldn’t let them go, especially after Blake’s death, so did that mean a life spent the size of a mouse? What if they wearied of the game, or found fresh people to hunt?

Charles

Charles frowned. Looking at the jump he had made from the night table to the bed, the table was higher and he had barely made it. There was no way on god’s green earth he was going to be able to make the leap back, zero percentage chance of success. His triumph faded, how was he going to get back down?

He looked at John’s pants, lying draped over the edge of the bed. He knew John had been hiding in the pocket. Scratching his head, he wondered if he might be able to slide down inside the pant leg, like he had seen down with chutes from tall apartment buildings. Looking around, he didn’t see any other options. Climbing into John’s trousers, he moved toward the leg, the denim weighing down fairly heavy on him. Moving into the leg of the jeans he felt the slope of the bed curl away. Moving to the side of the leg, next to the crease, he took a couple of big breaths. Rolling over onto his stomach, his eased his legs around the curve. “God I hope this works,” he said, pushing off. The fabric actually slowed his descent, decelerating his fall enough so that when he landed, he rolled and was able to come up unharmed, “Die Hard,” he said, impressed with himself.

Moving across the room and out the door he made his way back down the hall and to the sanctuary beneath the deacon’s bench.

Something in the darkness at the other end moved. “Shit!” said Charles, unsure of what potential horror might have invaded his safe zone.

“Charles?” came the familiar voice of Dustin.

“Dustin? Oh my god!” Charles exclaimed, rushing over toward his friend.

Dustin laughed, holding his hand up, “No hugging!” he said.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice excited.

“I escaped,” Dustin replied.

“From the girls?”

“From a cage on the stand after they were finished with John,” he explained.

“Oh my god! What did they do to John?”

Dustin frowned. “They used him as a sexual toy, in every conceivable way. I don’t know what they did with him when they were done, I didn’t see him.”

“Used him like a sex toy?”

“You know, like a dildo, in their pussies, their asses, everything,” Dustin said.

Charles scrunched up his face, “Like in their buttholes? Gross.” Then his eyes grew round. “Did they do that to you?”

Dustin slowly shook his head. “Not all of it,” he said.

“What do you mean, not all of it?”

“Um, I have been inside both of their mouths and their vaginas. I also spent a while as a hostage in Simone’s underpants, tucked right up against her pussy,” he explained.”

“Ah man, that’s horrible!” Charles replied, revolted by the notion.

Dustin chuckled wryly, “Not all of it,” he said.

Charles shook his head, not comprehending. “Do you know where John is now?” he asked.

Dustin shook his head. “How did they catch him and not you, no offense?” he inquired.

“John went to a bedroom down here and tried to call 911, except Simone answered, she changed her voice,” Charles explained.

Dustin nodded, cerebral gears turning. “I suspect they might be able to imitate us and use it as a means of luring out into the open. We need a call and answer system, like, saying the school’s sports team name,” he said, lips pursed, brow furled.

Charles frowned, “So I like say Mountaineers and you know it’s me?” he asked, seeking clarification.

“Exactly, so if I’m out and you hear my voice but I don’t say Mountaineers, you know it’s them trying to trick you,” he instructed.

Charles smiled and nodded, comprehending the strategy.

“I see you have the hair tie and a paper clip, that’s excellent,” Dustin said, pointing to the items Charles carried.

Charles nodded, “I didn’t know what you needed the hair tie for, but I figured if you wanted it, it was probably important,” he said.

Dustin grinned, “I have a plan.”

Charles rubbed his hands together, “What is it?”

“First, were are going to have to try and straighten out that paperclip, it’s probably going to take both of us,” he said.

Charles removed it from the hair tie and handed it to Dustin.

The taller boy tested the strength of the metal, grunting with exertion. Looking at Charles, he nodded, “Here you take this part, and I’ll pull here,” he said. Together they pulled, able to pull one prong partially away.

“Whew,” said Charles, “That’s hard, like trying to bend rebar.”

Dustin nodded and chuckled. After two hours, and with considerable effort, they straightened out the paperclip, leaving the smaller interior loop intact.

Charles looked at the hair tie then the paperclip, a light coming on inside his head. “Like shooting paperclips with an elastic,” he said, smiling and nodding.

“Except we need to get a shoe lace from the shoes beside the bench and we need to put a bend at the long end of the paperclip,” Dustin provided.

“To tie the shoe lace to, like a grappling hook!” Charles exclaimed.

“Sort of, but not really,” he replied, “You’ll see. You look positively beat, maybe you should get some rest. I’ll get the lace.”

Charles nodded, so glad Dustin was back, he fell asleep in moments.

Morning comes

Simone stretched languidly on top of the king sized bed, a sudden sensation of movement in her bottom giving her a tingle made her giggle.

Elizabeth rolled over, arm under her head, and smiled. “What’s so funny?” she asked, moving a strand of Simone’s golden hair out of the other woman’s face.

“John, he’s still in my ass,” she said, rolling onto her back and then over onto the side away from Elizabeth and presenting her bottom.

Elizabeth tittered, “Talk about doing hard time in the hole,” she said, moving down to take a peek at Simone’s bum. In the center of the tiny pink crinkle was a small protruding hand.

“I’m not going to comment about the quality of the time in the hole, but you know I’m thinking it,” Simone replied with a grin, “And it rhymes with ditty.”

Carefully, Elizabeth took the tiny hand between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, tugging gently to see if she could extract him without causing him too much distress.

“You want me to push?” Simone asked.

”No, you’ll probably crush him with your tight little butt if you flexed too hard. He’s coming out,” replied Elizabeth, easing him out of the other woman’s anus.

Spending hours confined inside of the end of Simone’s intestinal tract had taken a tremendous physical toll on John. His pink flesh appeared withered and off white, leached of color and vitality, and he was incredibly dehydrated. His breathing was shallow and labored.

“I think your ass broke him,” murmured Elizabeth, grinning.

Simone frowned. “I hadn’t intended to keep him there the whole night,” she said, eyes brightening at the mention of the word whole.

He stirred feebly in Elizabeth’s hand. Moving to the edge of the bed, she got up and moved into the bathroom. Turning on the tap, she dabbed her finger in the water and brought it close to his face, letting the water touch his lips.

“He’s going need something to eat if we’re going to rehabilitate him,” Elizabeth called out.

Simone, crawling off the bed, “Yeah, I bet little Dustin could probably use a bite too, couldn’t you…” her voice trailed off as she looked into the empty cage, small door slightly ajar.

“What was that?” Elizabeth asked, peeking her out of the bathroom door.

Simone was looking on the ground at the base of the cage. Lifting her head, she grinned at Elizabeth. “Dustin is gone,” she said directly, not masking the astonishment on her face.

“What?” Elizabeth asked, a questioning expression on her face.

“First time in like a very long time someone has gotten out of one of the cages,” she answered.

“You’re kidding?” she asked, still nursing John with water.

“Nope,” she answered, entering the bathroom and sitting on the toilet to empty her bladder.

“Now the question is, where did he go?” Elizabeth posed.

Getting up, Simone flushed the toilet and passed her hands through the water spilling out of the faucet before drying them off in one of the towels on the rack.

Elizabeth returned to the bed with John while Simone busied herself with her morning ritual. Teeth brushed and flossed, face washed, hair brushed, she grabbed her house coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I’ll go downstairs and get some food,” Simone informed, Elizabeth nodded.

Going down the backstairs into the kitchen, Simone pulled a plate out of the cupboard over the counter before gathering some things from the fridge she thought john might be able to eat. Returning to the front stairs in the entryway, the selection of easily digested food on a small plate, Simone looked at the shoe lace rope, now serviceable with the addition of the other lace. She was about to leave, when she felt it again, the sensation of purity, like she had when she and Elizabeth were in the shower. She smiled and nodded her head.

Returning to the room, Elizabeth was still seated on the edge of the bed, John still lying motionless in the palm of her right hand. She looked up as Simone entered.

“Dustin is downstairs,” Simone announced, setting the plate of food down beside Elizabeth.

“Oh? Did you see him?”

“Nope, but he fixed the rope in the entryway,” she said, walking back over to examine the cage. “And I sensed purity again.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I’m pretty sure after what we put him through yesterday, he has been deflowered,” she qualified.

Simone chuckled, remembering. Suddenly she stopped, eyes widening, “Unless.”

“Unless what?” asked Elizabeth.

“Unless Dustin wasn’t the only virgin. If that’s the case, I think I might have just been peeped by Charles,” she said, slow smile transforming her face. “And I’m pretty sure I know where he is hiding,” she added.

“Why don’t you leave John to me for the time being, and you go down and see if you’re suspicions are correct,” she said, dipping her finger into some yogurt and touching it to his tiny lips.

Simone nodded slowly. “Yep, I’ll be back in a minute,” she advised, “With a brand new toy.”

Charles and Dustin

“So what’s the plan?” Charles asked, body and spirit restored by rest and the reappearance of Dustin.

“We need to get outside,” Dustin replied.

“Are you mental?” Charles asked, eyes wide with alarm. “You said outside was bad!”

“It is, but if we remain here it is only a matter of time before we are caught and the women will do whatever it is they will do until another batch of idiots sneak in here,” he answered.

“I don’t like it man. There are all sorts of things out there that will kill us out there, like even house pets like cats and dogs,” Charles said, shaking his head.

“If we want to survive, it might be our only way,” Dustin said.

“Giant frogs, rats,” added Charles.

“We know the doors are out of the question, but maybe the mail slot might offer us a chance,” he speculated.

“Eagles, getting run over by a car,” continued Charles.

Dustin frowned.

“Chickens.”

“Chickens, how the heck is a chicken going to kill us?” asked Dustin.

Charles shrugged, “Just saying, I mean, you could get stepped on, or pecked,” he answered.

“Where would we even run into a chicken? There is no such thing as a wild peep of carnivorous chickens roaming loose in the countryside,” he stated.

“What’s a peep?”

“It what a group of chickens are called, a peep or a brood,” Dustin informed.

“I thought it was a flock,” countered Charles.

“It could be, like a flock of birds, or goats,” clarified Dustin.

“Goats could get us, they eat anything,” Charles supplied.

Dustin rubbed his face with his hands.

Charles shook his head. “What about a flock of seagulls.”

“That’s a squabble.”

“What?”

“A group of seagulls is a squabble. A murder of crows, a gaggle of geese, can we just get on with this, please, you are literally driving me insane,” Dustin cracked back smartly.

Frowning, “I’m just worried is all. They are lots of things out there that could get us and I’m scared,” Charles said.

Dustin’s demeanor softened, “I know, we’ve already had this conversation and I’m sorry if I snapped, I am just trying to think of a way for us to maybe get out here alive and not end up like Blake,” he said, coming over to the other boy and clapping his hand on his shoulder.

The sound of heavy footfalls coming from the kitchen. The boys watched Simone walk up the hall, pausing to look at the rope ladder.

“I can totally see up her robe right now,” Charles whispered, little snicker in his voice. “She’s not wearing any underpants.”

Dustin shot him a panicked look.

When she moved on, “We need a new spot, like right now!” Dustin urged, sliding out from under the deacon’s bench, dragging the hair tie, shoe lace, and shaped paperclip.

“What’s the matter?” Charles asked, anxious, eyes wide and full of panic as he climbed out as well.

“I think Simone just sensed you, felt your presence,” he said.

“What?”

“RUN NOW!” Dustin yelled, the expression on his face enough to spur Charles to action.

Simone

Big grin on her face, Simone practically sprinted out of the bedroom, descending the stairs two at a time. Standing where she had sensed the purity, she looked directly in the area around the deacon’s bench.

“I know you’re here Charles, I sensed you,” she purred. “Either you’re hiding in one of Elizabeth’s shoes,” twinned and situated beside the bench, one shoe sans lace, she paused. “What is with you and shoelaces?” she asked rhetorically.

Sitting on the bench, she gathered Elizabeth’s shoes and checked them one at a time before setting them on the seat beside her. She strummed her fingers along the seat of the bench.

“I guess that only leaves under the,” she caught a flicker of movement from the parlor, the skirting under the loveseat moved, an almost imperceptible rustle of fabric. She grinned, doubting very much he was aware she had seen the flutter.

“You must be under the deacon’s bench!” she said, making a show by jumping up and moving the wooden piece of furniture.

Hands on hips, she moved into the parlor, bare feet making a soft slapping sound against the hard wood floor.

“I just don’t know where he could be,” she sulked, positioning herself for optimal viewing near the love seat and allowing her robe to open, revealing her lithe and marvelous body. Slipping the silk material off her shoulders, the robe dropped to the floor, fabric pooling around her feet.

Coy smile on her face, she brought her hands up her sides, cradling her breasts, pulling the up before releasing them and allowing gravity to pull them down with a bounce in the firm flesh, nipples erect.

“Why do you hide from me Charles?” she asked, a little pout on her lips.

Licking the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, teasing the nipple of her left breast, she batted her long lashes.

“Oh my god,” whispered Charles, lying on his stomach, concealed by the shadows under the love seat, eyes locked on her as she sensuously touched herself. He knew this was for him, just for him and he was as hard as stone.

“Dude,” hissed Dustin, “You’ve got to look away, she’s going to sense you,” he added, tugging at Charles’s foot, trying to pull him away from the glorious spectacle in front of him..

“I can’t, she’s so beautiful,” confessed Charles, rapt, kicking Dustin’s hand free.

She sat down on the floor in front of the love seat, cross legged. She knew exactly where he was, his innocence radiating like a beacon from the shadowy recess under the edge of the fabric.

Dustin moved away, to the back of the love seat, torn. Did he drag Charles away, or leave him? He knew what the women intended. He frowned, uncertainty gnawing at his resolve.

“Won’t you at least come out and take a look at me,” she invited, voice seductive and laden with promise, repositioning her legs so her knees were up and parted, letting him peek at the delicate patch above the groove in her privates.

Charles desperately wished he had his glasses. He could make it out, but the details were slightly fuzzy.

Reaching down, she touch the soft flesh just beneath the neatly trimmed hair. “I know you haven’t been with anyone before,” she said. “She’s so soft and warm and would very much like to meet you,” she added, little chuckle in her voice.

Charles looked back at Dustin.

Motioning frantically with his arm, Dustin tried as best he could to urge Charles to join him. Charles shook his head and smiled before climbing out from under the love seat.

“There you are,” she said, warm welcoming smile on her face as he climbed to his feet.

He was at a loss for words, even marginally out of focus he was caught in the swell of her beauty.

She motioned him closer with her index finger, pink tongue tucked into the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t have my glasses,” he mumbled, taking a few steps closer. “My eyes, I have trouble seeing.”

She tilted her head and frowned. Reaching down, she touched the side of his face with the pad of her right index finger.

He was amazed, it was as if a veil had been lifted and the entire world came into sharp focus.

“What about now?” she asked, smiling down upon him.

He stared up at her, mouth agape as he beheld her loveliness, eyes drinking in every detail of her perfect flesh.

She extended a hand down toward him. Shambling forward, feet moving of their own volition he approached her hand and climbed onto it.

Closing her hand around the boy, she rose to her feet. Looking around the parlor, she laughed softly. “I know you’re here somewhere Dustin. You’ve proven a formidable opponent and do not think we shall under estimate you again.”

Lurking behind the leg of the love seat, Dustin swallowed hard.

Bending down, Simone gathered her robe off the floor, with her tiny prize in the other hand, she returned upstairs.

Dustin

Dustin shook his head. He couldn’t blame Charles, Simone was born of seduction, had refined the art and breathed it into every word she spoke. Charles never stood a chance, like a young naïve deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car. In fact, Dustin himself nearly surrendered himself to her and he wasn’t even looking at her.

Should he try and go save John and Charles? Would Charles just give himself up again? Dustin was torn, but so too, he was frustrated. He needed another person to help enact his plan, to help secure the hair tie while he launched the paper clip with the tethered line. He was just too small. He paused. Unless he could find some way to anchor the hair tie between two points. Walking out from under the loveseat, he moved back toward the foyer. Seeing Elizabeth’s shoes on the displaced deacon’s bench, he frowned as he contemplated. He might be able to thread the hair tie through the eyelets of the shoes and then be able to drawing the paper clip and shoot it toward the mail slot built into the door, but getting up on the deacon’s bench could be problematic.

Hefting the paper clip, he tried to throw it like a spear, but the drag of the attached shoe lave prevented it from even reaching the seat of the bench let alone finding purchase on one of the shoes. After the third attempt, he knew there was little hope of success. He wracked his brain. Looking up at the top of the stairs, then to the deacon’s bench, he nodded. As a child, he had possessed a small plastic toy, a parachutist with four threads tied to the corners of a sheet of plastic. A running start, maybe. He scowled. Even if he could find a big enough piece of plastic, he had no means of tying it to his body. The toy had used sewing thread and all he had was a shoelace. If he had sewing thread, he probably could throw the paper clip high enough to snag it on a shoe and wouldn’t need to think about some crazy BASE jumping stunt.

Thread. Any significant length of thread would do. Dental floss would be more durable, but if he could get a piece of thread. A slow wily smile crept across his face. Tucking the equipment under the bench, he returned to the parlor, moving to the long curtain hanging to the floor on the left side of the large window. Within arm’s reach, there was a hem stitch along the bottom edge of the curtain. Testing it, he nodded, the stitch was not particularly tight and he believed if he could cut or break the thread, he might actually be able to unravel the stitch and it would give a long unbroken length. Loping back across the parlor, he fetched the paper clip from its cache, removing the attached lace, and returned to the curtain. Using the unbent loop, he latched it onto the thread and gave it a mighty yank, pulling the thread slightly away from the drapery material. Removing the metal clip, he grabbed the thread with both his hands and pulled, but the thread would not budge any further.

Stepping up onto tip toes, he held the thread between both hands and began to gnaw it, like a beaver felling a teeth, chewing through the delicate filaments composing the thread. Once he was through, he moved to the next stitch and again used the paper clip, this time, the broken end pulled through. Again and again he repeated the process moving along the length of the bottom of the curtain until he had reached the opposite end where the thread was once again securely attached. As before, he plunked down onto his bum and chewed away at the line until it was severed. In all, he estimated he had over a hundred feet of line, much finer and lighter than the thick shoe laces. Rolling up his rope, he grabbed the paper clip and walked back over to the deacon’s bench. Once there, he fastened the line to the end of the bent metal clip before heaving it like a javelin onto the seat of the bench. Pulling it back, the paper clip grabbed nothing and fell back to the floor. He skipped out of the way, though he nearly crapped himself with the noise the clip made striking the hardwood floor. Still as a church mouse, he listened for any sound of movement from upstairs. Hearing none, he repeated the process, this time catching the paper clip when it fell back after failing to bite. Again and again he repeated the throw until on the fourteenth throw, he was met with resistance when he pulled on the thread. Giving the thread several tugs, he tested it with the entirety of his weight before trying to climb onto the bench. Slipping the hair tie over his shoulder and feeling the line would hold, he scaled the side of the bench pulling himself onto the top. Disengaging the entangled clip, he looped the hair tie through the eyelet and tied it off on the opposite side using the remaining lace on Elizabeth’s other shoe. Next he tied the end of the thread through an eyelet so that he would accidentally shoot the clip and line away. Using the hair tie, he launched the clip with the thread line toward the mail slot in the front door next to the deacon’s bench. It took several tries to get the angle right and even when he hit the slot, the clip failed to catch on the lip. His concern remained the clicking sound of the paper clip hitting the door or the floor and he was worried it would draw attention, though he surmised the woman were experiencing Charles and otherwise occupied. When the clip landed in the slot and actually hooked onto something, he gave a fist pump and a “Yeah!” Testing the soundness of the line, one end on the mail slot, the other on the shoe, he removed the lace from Elizabeth’s shoe and the hair tie and wrapped them around himself, before lowering himself onto the line and crawling hand over hand, feet locked around the thread toward the door.

Charles

Simone returned from downstairs, cradling her small prize between her hands. Elizabeth looked up, still holding an unconscious John in her hand.

Walking around the bed, Simone came to sit beside Elizabeth, opening her hands slowly to reveal Charles.

The boy lifted his head, looking up at Elizabeth then back to Simone. “You are both so beautiful,” he breathed, able to see them clearly with his newly restored eyes.

“Thank you, it’s kind of you say,” expressed Simone.

Elizabeth nodded and smiled.

“So what are we to do with you, my little friend?” asked Simone.

Charles shrugged.

“You are one persistent little fellow, and clever little boy,” Elizabeth laughed.

“That was mostly Dustin, was the one who figured out most of the stuff,” confessed Charles, just now noticing John lying in her hand.

“He had a tough night,” Elizabeth explained, exchanging a look with Simone before both women started to giggle.

Charles frowned and nodded. “Is he going to be all right because he kind of looks like crap right now,” he said, looking back up

Both women started laughing, Simone’s hand jiggling enough Charles actually thought he might fall.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, searching the faces of first one then the other woman.

“Well,” started Simone, “He spent the night in my bum,” she said.

Charles jaw dropped open, eyes wide, “In your bum, like inside?”

She opened her green eyes wide and nodded, “Like totally inside,” she said.

“Oh, I get it. I said he looked like crap and he was in your bum,” he said, nodding.

Both women giggled again.

Looking to Elizabeth, Simone flicked a glance down to Charles then back, askance in her expression.

Elizabeth looked at John then back to Simone. “I’ll see what I can do for this one, you enjoy that one,” she said.

Simone looked down to Charles, “I guess it’s just me and you Charlie,” she said, as Elizabeth got up from the bed, closing her hand around John to put on her housecoat before grabbing her phone off the bedside table.

Charles swallowed hard, “Okay,” he said. Elizabeth walked to the door, nodding her head down the hall toward the spare room.

Simone nodded at the other woman and fixed her eyes on the little figure in her hand. “Now, I know you’ve never experience a girl, but have you ever even kissed a girl?”

Charles scoffed, “Sure lots of times, wait, not including family?”

“Not including family,” she stipulated. “And, in a sexual way.”

He frowned, “No,” he answered, lowering his gaze.

“Well, today that’s all going to change,” she promised, binging him up to her face and puckering her lips. He put his hands on her lower lip and kissed. For several minutes, she allowed him to press his lips against hers.

She pulled him away, “Not so bad?”

He grinned and shook his head.

Lowering him down, she set him on the nipple of her left breast. “Touch there, like that,” she instructed, guiding his little hands around the nipple. His eyes grew wide watching it respond to his ministrations.

“Lick it,” she said.

He blushed a little but then leaned in and ran his tongue over it, like one might an ice cream cone.

She smiled, touching her left thumb and forefinger to her mouth, lubricating them with saliva. Bringing her hand neat him, she took her nipple between her fingers and tweaked it a little, coating it in her spit.

“Go on,” she said, “Lick me again.”

He shook his head. “It’s got your slobber on it,” he replied looking up at her.

She pursed her lips, a slow smile changing the expression, as she took him by the legs and brought him back up to her face, except this time, she opened her mouth wide, tongue pulled back and plopped him in before sealing her lips shut. Using her tongue, she rolled him around, ensuring every part of him was thoroughly coated. Elizabeth popped in and hastily got dressed and left. Pushing one of his legs up between her lips, she took it in her finger and pulled him out of her mouth.

“Now all of you is covered in my ‘slobber’,” she said smartly dropping him back on her breast. He mopped he saliva soaked hair out of his face.

She let him play around with first one then the other of her breasts, feeling the fire starting to ignite down below. Picking him up, she parted her legs and set him on the bed between them. “What do you think of your first vagina?” she asked.

He stared at it. He had seen many in some nudie mags but had never seen one up close in the flesh, he was mesmerized. “It’s kind of big and a little scary,” he said, suddenly feeling intimidated by the massive pussy right in front of him.

“You’re kind of small,” she replied. Moving her hand behind him, she nudged him closer to her exposed vulva. “Touch it,” she encouraged.

He tucked his arms into his arm pits and shook his head.

“Come on. She doesn’t bite,” prompted Simone.

He looked at the folds of pink flesh then up at her face. Taking a tentative step forward, he placed his hands on the outer lips of her vagina. “It’s soft,” he said, “and warm,” he added, kneading the delicate flesh between his fingers.

Reaching down with both hands, she separated her lips.

“Whoa,” said Charles.

Slipping her right index finger into her opening, she slid it in to her second knuckle before drawing it back out and holding it in front of his face. “Taste it,” she cooed.

He shook his head, small movements but very quick.

She tilted her head slightly, “Charles.”

He again shook no.

“If you don’t, you know what’s going to happen, I’m going to grab you by the feet and push you all the way inside of me,” she threatened.

Charles closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. She giggled and touched the end of her finger to his tongue.

He made a face, but then paused as her taste registered with his brain. He smiled.

“See?” she said.

He nodded, catching sight of the tight crinkle of her anus and trying to envision how the heck john not only fit in there but actually stayed there a whole night. He chuckled to himself, remembering John’s comment about how he like to spend an hour inside of Simone.

“Something funny?” she asked.

“Just something John said the night we came in,” he replied.

“How about we focus on the matter directly before you,” she suggested, arching and eyebrow and giving him a half smile.

“Okay,” he said. “What should I do?”

“Explore her,” she urged.

Walking forward, he put his hands together and made like he was going to try and climb inside of her head first

She chuckled, “A moment ago I had to threaten you to taste my finger, now you’re just going to dive right in?”

He looked up.

“If this is what you want to do, try with your feet,” she suggested. She watched in amusement as he eased a leg into her, followed by the other.

“It’s hot and really tight,” he said, embedded up to his waist, the sleek muscles trying to pull him in deeper.

“Music to girl’s ears,” she murmured, enjoying the sensation of the boy doing everything in his power to get inside her.

He wiggled and twisted.

“Put your arms up,” she said.

He did.

Reaching down with her left hand, she put her index finger on his head and put him all the way inside of her, catching one of his hands before he vanished completely.

Elizabeth

Walking down the hall out of Simone’s bedroom, Elizabeth went into the spare bedroom and sat on the bed. John appeared to be doing better, his breathing was much more regular and his color was returning nicely. She wasn’t sure how many minutes elapsed, but she thought she heard something. It sounded like a faint click coming from downstairs. Nestling John between the pillows on the bed, she crept out into the hall, ear cocked, listening. She was just about to give up, when she heard it again. Moving stealthily down the hall, she peered around the corner by the bannister overlooking the entryway.

She watched in amazement as the tiny little figure of Dustin pulled the thread tethered to the back of the bent paper clip across the floor and back up onto the deacon’s bench before looping it around what appeared to be an elastic hair tie and using her shoe almost like a ballista to launch the paper clip again toward the mail slot in the door. She wasn’t entirely sure what he thought he might accomplish, but it was extremely entertaining to watch. Then it occurred to her, he was trying to get outside, clever little bugger. Taking her phone out the pocket of her housecoat, she called up the video recorder. Zooming in, she filmed him while he expended his effort like some tiny little whaler trying to harpoon his own white whale.

Slipping quietly away from her observation post, she returned to the master bedroom. Simone smiled and pointed to her mouth, showing her a lower leg between her lips.

“I just got a bead on Dustin, he’s downstairs on the bench in the entry hall trying to latch a paper clip onto the edge of the mail slot,” Elizabeth explained, pulling on her stretchy pants and t-shirt.

Simone smiled and nodded. Elizabeth hurried out of the room and closed the door. Checking on John and satisfied he was secure, she descended the back stairs ever so slowly and slipped out the back door. Circling around to the front of the house.

Dustin

Reaching the slot in the door, he climbed up into it. Untying the thread, he tied the rope to the end of the paperclip. Bracing his feet, he put his shoulder against the metal covering of the mail slot and pushed.  Heaving as much as he could, he almost fell out when suddenly the slot was lifted and he pitched forward, catching himself on the edge. Elizabeth moved quickly, moving in low and opening her mouth wide to try and come up under him like a shark taking out a seal. Scrambling, he pulled himself back up in the opening in the door, narrowly escaping capture. She giggled and leaned backward. Diving back into the house, he hooked the paperclip on the edge of the door and quickly descended to the floor. He heard the sound of the handle turning and the sound of footsteps receding. Pushing himself as hard as he could, he ran full steam toward the parlor, hoping he could make it to cover before Elizabeth could round the house.

Still racing, he heard the sound of the back door open and her laughing, thunderous footsteps. Diving head first, he slid under the skirt of the loveseat where he and Charles had hidden earlier.

Rolling onto his back, he tried to control his heaving breathing, sweat streaming down his nude body. Positioned as he was, concealed by the shadows beneath the love seat, he could see her.

She was holding the thumb and forefinger of her right hand close together, “This close Dustin, this close,” she said.

He wiped his forehead as she got down onto her knees and looked under the deacon’s bench. Heart still pounding like a drum setting double speed cadence on a slave galley, he moved toward the foot of the loveseat.

Elizabeth smiled, eyes finding nothing under the bench as she sat her bum back on her heels and looked into the parlor. “That’s the only place you could’ve gone little one,” she said, leaning forward now on hands and knees as she slowly moved toward the parlor.

“Come on Dustin, we both know you’re in here and it’s only a matter of time before I flush you out,” Elizabeth teased.

Breathing still coming in labored gasps, he shook his head. He knew there was no possible way of trying to outrun her. He wondered inwardly if he could he simply use the love seat leg to circle around and stay out of her sight.

“You know it is always more exhilarating when you run, really gets the juices flowing,” she said, very close to where he was hiding.

He was about to move when suddenly the front loveseat was lifted up and back onto the rear legs of the furniture legs.

“AHA!” she exclaimed, holding the front of the love seat, eyes sparkling as she looked down on him.

He got no more than a half dozen steps before her free hand closed around him. “Oh ho got you,” she said triumphantly. He went limp in her grasp.

Lowering the loveseat, she opened her hand to examine her prize.

He looked up at her, half grin on his face.

She nodded, “You were definitely a delicious little challenge I must confess,” she said.

Sitting up in her open palm, he tipped his head forward and acknowledged her compliment.

“You almost made it outside,” she said.

Now he held his thumb and forefinger close together.

She laughed sweetly and rose to standing. “Come on,” she said, “I’ll take you to John.”

He put his hands out on her palm to steady himself as she climbed the stairs and went into the spare room. John was where she had left him. Sitting on the bed, she set Dustin down beside his friend.

Moving over, Dustin knelt down beside John and patted his cheek. “John?” he said.

The other boy groaned.

“John,” Dustin repeated.

John cracked a bloodshot eye, “Dustin?” he croaked.

Dustin smiled, “Yeah buddy,” he said, grin on his face.

“You wouldn’t believe the night I had,” John chuckled. “I could use a breath mint though.”

Dustin laughed, “And I think maybe you got pinkeye,” he added.

John frowned, reaching up and touching his face. “How did you get me out of there?” he asked.

Shaking his head slowly, “I didn’t,” he started, jerking a thumb in the direction of over his shoulder, “Elizabeth got me. Simone basically seduced Charles out of our hiding spot and I think he’s with her now.”

“Oh,” replied John.

Dustin turned to look back at Elizabeth, “I’m not sure what you’ve got planned now,” he said.

A slow smile crept across her face, “I’m sure I can think of something while Simone educates young Charles.”

Taking the boys, one in each hand, she lifted them off the bed before climbing onto to it. Bringing them one at a time to her mouth, she licked each, from foot to head and then set one at each of her flaccid nipples. John and Dustin exchanged glances.

“Bergin,” she said, grinning on her face. Each boy began to touch and stroke their respective nipples, causing the soft but responsive flesh to stiffen.

“Heads or tails?’ she asked.

“Tails,” said John before Dustin could speak.

She nodded, “That’s how it will be, heads for Dustin, tails for John,” she stated.

Each boy continued to attend to the tight prominences on her breasts.

Plucking John from her breast, she used him to create small circles in the tender heated flesh of her vagina before tilting her pelvis and parting her legs wider and pushing him headlong in her pink opening. He tried to orient himself, but she moved his little body in and out of herself. Purely as a defensive move, he wrapped himself around her index finger.

With her other hand, she took ahold of Dustin and while she plunged John in and out of her engorged sex, she stimulated herself using his body directly against the nub of her clitoris. Pace quickening as she brought herself to climax, her body shuddering with pleasure as she released.

Bringing Dustin up to her face, she opened her mouth and dropped the boy inside. He was turned over and over, unable to fend off her powerful tongue as she maneuvered him into position. There was nothing to hang onto as he slowly slid down her tongue toward the back of her mouth and to her throat. He frantically tried to twist but her throated contracted around him, dragging him down in a powerful wave. He yelled as she swallowed him.

Removing John from her vagina, she held his shaking body against her stomach, hand covering him. After a moment, she picked him back up and pushed his tiny little person deep into her satisfied pussy, fingers driving him as far as she could before closing her legs tightly together as he struggled.

End Game

Charles rolled onto his side, face into the dirt. Sitting bolt upright, he blinked a couple of times, he was outside sitting in the front yard of the old house, full sized, the first few tendrils of color painting the eastern sky to announce the coming of a new day.

Blake came awake violently, immediately checking his bare legs, “Oh my god,” he muttered, running his hands up and down his perfectly normal legs. Clothing was strewn everywhere.

Charles looked over, mouth hanging open, “You’re alive!” he exclaimed wide eyed, moving toward on hands and knees toward Blake.

“I’m alive!” he said, big grin on his dirty face, “I didn’t get stepped on!”

Dustin groaned and rolled over. John was lying on his back a short distance away.

“What the hell happened?” asked John.

“Some type of dream or hallucination?” Charles replied.

Dustin pushed himself up onto hands and knees. “Whatever it was, we made it,” he mumbled, his last memory tumbling into Elizabeth’s stomach.

“I feel like a golf ball in one of those washer things,” moaned John.

The sound of tires crunching on gravel as the police cruiser rolled to a stop along the fence in front of the dilapidated house.

All four boys turned their heads to look as officer Savannah Sinclair stepped out of the white Crown Victoria with lights across the roof. Smartly dressed in her police uniform, she was tall and athletically built, long strawberry blond hair in a braid behind her head. Her hazel eyes swept the unusual scene in the yard of the old broke down farmhouse, a frown on her plump lips.

“We had a report of some mischief in this area,” she said, authority in her voice, hands on her shapely hips.

 John pushed himself up into a sitting position, Dustin sat back on his knees.

Savannah pointed to the boys’ clothes, “Can somebody tell me why you are all naked?” she asked.

The boys exchanged glances with one another but no one said anything.

“Mm-hmm,” she started, “I’m guessing we were all out at the lake last night, partying?” she asked.

“Last night? No that was a few nights ago,” said Charles.

She pulled a pad out of her pocket and flipped it open. “Is one of you John Haddonfield, owner of a 1973 Dodge Dart?”

John raised his hand.

She closed the notepad and put it back in her pocket. “Your car is parked out at the lake, judging by your current condition, I’m going to take a leap and say you all were out there, that was last night, it’s Saturday morning,” she said.

“It can’t be, days went by,” John said, looking back at the dark house, looking even more in disrepair bathed in the light of early day.

Dustin shook his head.

“At least we’re the right size,” chuckled Charles.

Officer Sinclair scowled, “I’m not following,” she said.

Charles shook his head, “It’s the house,” he said, the other boys nodding in agreement.

“Uh huh, why don’t you lot get your clothes on and I can give you a ride back to your car,” she said.

The boys began to get dressed. John paused a moment, looking at his jeans pocket and chuckling before pulling on his pants.

Walking out to the car as a group, she placed Dustin, John, and Charles in the back of the patrol car and Blake in the front.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, she closed the door and buckled up her seat belt.

“You really should check out the house,” encouraged Charles.

She looked to each of the boys and sighed, “Okay,” she said, unbuckling and getting back out of the vehicle. Walking back toward the house through the overgrown path, she shook her head.

“Nice butt,” John snickered, admiring Savannah’s sweet little bottom as she walked up to the house.

“I would have thought you had had enough of butts for the moment,” replied Dustin, frowning.

Blake frowned. “What?”

“Simone stuck John in her bum overnight,” supplied Charles.

John shrugged, “I can’t help it. The lady cop has a nice tush. What do you want me to say?” he chuckled.

“In her ass?” Blake asked. “What the hell did I miss?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Dustin said. All eyes in the car on the police officer.

The policewoman brought her flashlight up, pausing a moment at the base of the handful of stairs leading up to ramshackle home. Looking up at the rundown dwelling on the verge of imminent collapse, she frowned. Almost reluctant to step onto the decayed grey colored wood of the first stair, she put her foot on the first one and tested it, the wood creaking under her weight. Three more steps and she was on the veranda, using her flashlight, she shone it through the dusty pane into the empty house and peered inside.

Charles had his hands by his face.

She brought her flashlight down, and turned, shaking her head slowly.

The front door to the left and behind Savannah started to open, the portal darkening.

John put his open hands on the window, “Lookout!” he yelled.

She frowned, tilting her head one side.

Simone, dressed in a housecoat appeared in the open doorway, unseen by the policewoman. All the boys started yelling.

Savannah turned suddenly, hand darting the gun at her hip. Her stance softened and the two women embraced.

“What the hell?” John asked.

“Do they know each other?” Charles asked.

Dustin started to laugh. “Blake, check your door,” he instructed.

Blake tugged at the handle but the door didn’t open. Looking back at Dustin, he shook his head.

The two engaged in communication for a couple of minutes before hugging again, this time kissing one another on the cheek. Simone pointed at the car, it appeared she was indicating Blake. Savannah nodded, half smile on her pretty face, as started walking back down the steps toward the cruiser. Standing in the doorway, Simone raised a hand and waved at the boys.

Opening the driver door, Savannah got back into the car, “We’re going to need to take a little stop before we head out to your car,” she said, raising her eyebrows above her mischievous eyes, smiling with her lower lip between her teeth.