I stripped him of his clothes, his ID card, his gun—everything. Then I pulled the mask over my face, focusing on his features. The nanotech whirred to life, reshaping my appearance to match his—right down to the short, military-style haircut. I ran my fingers through what felt like my long hair, but when I touched it, it was short, just like his.
Motherfucker. This thing was insane.
A loud voice cut through the air: "Mike! How long are you gonna take? Co back, quickly!"
I adjusted my voice, letting the mask mimic his tone perfectly. "Coming back!"
The response ca out flawless—his voice, not mine.
I walked back to the truck, sliding into the passenger seat beside the driver. Mitt, Ryan, and Tusk were bound in the bed, their faces pale with exhaustion and fear. The driver chuckled, shaking his head. "Doctor Angela’s gonna be thrilled we caught more test subjects."
My blood ran cold.
Test subjects?
This wasn’t just a capture. This was sothing far worse than death.
The trucks roared to life, and we began moving again. The fortress lood ahead—a massive, heavily guarded structure with towering walls and ard patrols. The gates opened, and we drove inside, the trucks rolling toward a sleek, modern research building nestled within the compound.
As we parked, lab-coated figures erged, their faces cold and clinical. They grabbed Mitt and the others, dragging them inside despite their weak protests. The n were too injured from Ravina’s spears to fight back—they could only watch in horror as they were hauled into the unknown.
The truck rolled to a stop, the engine cutting off with a final, exhausted sigh. Tom stretched his arms overhead, his spine cracking as he let out a groan of relief. "Finally, we can take a fucking break for a few days," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His grin was tired but genuine as he turned to . "Phew. I’m gonna spend these days with my family. What about you, Mike?" His tone shifted, teasing now. "How’s your family? And what about that mother-in-law of yours? Still giving you a hard ti?"
Fuck.
This man—Mike—had a family. A wife. A mother-in-law. A life I had just stolen.
Before I could dwell on it, a blur of motion caught my eye.
A woman ca running toward us, her curves bouncing with every step, her tight tank top clinging to her full breasts, her short denim shorts riding up her thighs as she moved. I realised she must be Mike’s wife. Her long, honey-blonde hair flew behind her, her plump lips parted in relief as she launched herself at .
"Mike!" she gasped, her soft, warm body pressing against mine as she wrapped her slim, toned legs around my waist. "You’re back!" Her voice was breathless, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she clung to .
"Thank God you’re fine. We still don’t know what’s behind those walls..." She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her cheeks flushed, her breath warm against my face. "I’ll talk to Dad. Ask him to assign you to a desk job or sothing."
Her perfu—sothing sweet, like vanilla and jasmine—flooded my senses, her body heat seeping through the thin fabric of her clothes. My hands instinctively settled on her ass, the denim of her shorts doing little to hide the firm, round shape beneath.
Then—
"Emily! Pay attention to your surroundings!"
The voice was sharp, commanding, and unmistakably feminine.
Emily sighed, rolling her eyes, but slid down from my arms, her fingers lingering on my chest before she turned. "Mom, relax—"
That’s when I saw her.
Standing in the doorway of the house—wooden but sleek, modern in a way that scread luxury—was a woman who made my cock twitch in Mike’s pants.
Mike’s mother-in-law.
She was taller than Emily, her body curved in ways that made my mouth water. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that was all sharp cheekbones, full lips, and smoldering eyes.
She wore a tight, low-cut blouse that hugged her generous breasts, the fabric straining against her cleavage, and a pencil skirt that clung to her wide hips and thick thighs, the hem riding just high enough to tease the smooth, toned skin above her knees.
Fuck.
She was hotter than Emily by a mile.
The sunset painted the sky in fiery oranges and deep purples, casting long shadows that only made her hourglass figure look even more sinful. Her arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up just enough to make my gaze linger, her nails—long, painted a dark red—tapping against her arm.
"Mike," she said, her voice smooth as whiskey, but with an edge. "You’re late. Again."
Emily tugged my hand, pulling inside. "Co on, you must be exhausted."
I followed Emily inside, my mind still reeling, my cock throbbing beneath Mike’s pants. The way her ass swayed in those tight denim shorts, the way her breasts bounced with every step—it was enough to make my imagination run wild. Bending her over the dining table. Fucking her while her mother watches. Making her scream my na—
Emily led to a modern, spacious bedroom, her fingers brushing against mine as she handed a towel. "Go freshen up," she murmured, her voice soft, her cheeks flushed. "I’ll prepare sothing to eat."
I stepped into the bathroom, my breath catching at the sight of the luxurious shower—hot water, sleek tiles, a fucking showerhead that actually worked. After weeks of roughing it in the wilderness, this felt like heaven. I stripped off Mike’s clothes, stepping under the scalding spray, letting the water cascade over my muscles, washing away the gri and tension.
When I finally stepped out, I wrapped the towel around my waist, the fabric clinging to my abs, my cock still half-hard from the thoughts of Emily—and her mother.
I walked out of the bathroom, steam still rising from my skin, only to find Emily standing there, holding a set of fresh clothes for . She turned—and her eyes widened, her breath hitching as she took in my naked torso, the towel barely covering my cock.
"Oh my God..." she breathed, her fingers trembling as she reached out, tracing the ridges of my abs. "You have abs..."
I needed an excuse. Fast.
"Didn’t you say... You didn’t like my chubby stomach?" I murmured, my voice low, my gaze locking onto hers. "So I worked hard... after coming here."
Emily’s fingers road over my stomach, her touch light, exploratory, her breath quickening. "It’s amazing..." she whispered, her eyes darkening with hunger.
User Comments
0 comments from readers