Sherbet Riley
Registered User
- Joined
- Nov 20, 2022
- Messages
- 17
- Points
- 13
Henry was proud of himself. It had taken him just under six hours to fix up Mrs. Mullins’ porch. When he’d set upon his task that morning the boards had been bent, bowed and grey from years of neglect and unrelenting summer heat. Henry stomped his foot on the fresh red cedar planks and smiled in satisfaction, his chest bursting with pride. Of all the odd maintenance jobs he’d done for the Mullin girls over the years, this may be his most accomplished work yet. Henry wiped his brow with the back of his hand and unbuttoned the top button of his baby blue button-down as he surveyed his handiwork. An orange glow seemed to radiate off the unblemished wood in the hot afternoon sun, complimenting the colorful hues of Mrs. Mullins garden that now danced in the heat waves that rose from the heated gravel path leading to the house.
At times like this Henry could scarcely understand how he could have ever left this town. It hadn’t been that long ago that Henry had sworn that he’d never come back. It was an open secret around town, ever since he’d been a child, that Henry had never been the brightest bulb. As a child he had been easy to trick, and as an adult he could be painfully thick at times. This was why he never felt inclined to chime in on politics or current events. Such things didn’t interest him, and even if they did, he wouldn’t have much to say. In truth, Henry was the definition of a simple man. He never finished high school, instead dropping out to help his buddy Rich with his handyman business, which funnily enough sometimes serviced the very high school Henry had once attended. It had been lucrative work at the time. Why go into debt going to college or even bothering with his GED when there was money to be made? He did alright for himself for a time. It wasn’t uncommon to spot Henry fixing a light bulb at the public library or installing new pews at the local church.
But by the time he hit 25 Henry was itching to leave. He wanted to live somewhere where nobody knew him. Such was the life of a small town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, including Henry’s. When he and his old girlfriend Tammy split up it was the scandal of the year. When he’d wrapped his Toyota around a telephone pole the evening of his 24th birthday, everyone had whispered that he was a drunk. He was too embarrassed to admit the truth that he’d crashed while reaching for his dropped phone. As such, Henry now rode his bike everywhere he went, adding a humiliating dimension to his perceived arrested development.
And so, like many a young dreamer before him, he’d hopped on a plane to California. He’d followed an old buddy of his out there who claimed that NFTs were the next big thing. The idea was simple: start a fiction podcast about warring Beetle People, turn the podcast into a comic, then turn the characters into collectible NFTs that they’d sell at a huge profit. Of course, this turned out to be a scam and Henry got hosed, losing thousands overnight while his so-called friend made off like a bandit and cut all contact. Thus, a little over a year and a half later, Henry had moved back to Scarlett Creek and started picking up work as a handyman again. By far his most lucrative jobs were the ones that he performed for the girls.
The “girls” of course being Mrs. Lulubelle Mullins, who had just celebrated her 70th birthday, and her two daughters, Taylor and Mimi, who were 40 and 50 respectively. Henry had known the Mullins all his life. Mrs. Mullins had been one of his mother’s closest friends and though he had been expected to call Taylor and Whitney “Auntie” growing up, they hadn’t been particularly close. They were much older than him and had little interest in entertaining the local D student at local events and holiday dinners.
When he’d returned home from the west coast, Henry’s mother had informed him that Mrs. Mullins needed some work done around the house. It had started off innocently enough. A light fixture here, a new gardening bed there, but now it felt as though Henry were working there full time. If it hadn’t been for the occasional paintjob of the odd mom-and-pop shop in town, he might have been. And now that he’d finished the most demanding task they’d asked of him yet, he figured he deserved a little treat.
As he dug about in the front pocket of his button down, Henry heard the screen door open behind him. Even before he heard her voice he knew who it was. The soft tinkling of ice in a large pitcher gave it away every time.
“Oh my stars! Henry! I can’t believe it…” Mrs. Mullins exclaimed as she stepped out onto the porch, her eyes wide in amazement. “It’s like new.”
“Well, it is new, right?” Henry shrugged, fishing a depleted box of Marlboro Reds from the front pocket of his shirt. He only had two cigarettes left. Given his recent achievement, he opted to smoke the lucky one.
“That’s quite right,” Mrs. Mullins nodded, the way one might confirm a toddler’s observation about the sun being bright, as she gestured for Henry to sit beside her at the little antique table she liked to keep out front for company. At the ripe age of 70, Lulubelle Mullins was an old school southern belle. She liked to wear her hair up and didn’t dare hurry for anyone. She moved at her own pace, her lilting southern accent soft and practiced, eyes crinkled from decades of smiling.
She had been a stunner in her day; Henry had seen the photos. Mrs. Mullins had looked like a curvy Barbie doll: blonde, silky hair, a prodigious bust, wide hips, and long legs that drew the eye to her shapely feet. She’d been a debutante growing up, often participating in local pageants and parades. Her special talent at these pageants was feats of hypnotism; often performed on chickens and snakes she’d sourced from her family farm, but eventually graduated to inviting audience members up on stage to participate. When she’d grown tired of living a life on display, she got her certification and began working as a hypnotherapist out of her home. Now retired, Mrs. Mullins looked nothing like the trophy wife and pageant queen she had once been. Now more often than not she dressed like a storybook character. She often wore smocks or aprons over conservative ankle-length dresses that invited comparisons to a nanny or nursemaid. When she wasn’t volunteering at local events and fundraisers, she could be found in her garden, tending to her many exotic flowers and vegetables.
Henry took a seat beside Mrs. Mullins on the porch; his lucky cigarette pinched between his fingers as he accepted a very full glass of iced tea from Mrs. Mullins.
“Thank ya, kindly,” Henry said, raising his glass to her.
“Anytime, sugar. Thank YOU for all your hard work today.”
Henry closed his eyes as he took that first cool sip of iced tea. After his celebratory cigarette, this was often the highlight of his day at the Mullins Manor. Mrs. Mullins likely had the best iced tea recipe in town, not too sweet and not too bitter with just the right amount of lemon. As he drank, Mrs. Mullins stared at his sweat-covered neck, watching his Adams apple bob up and down as he drank his tea.
“Ahhh,” Henry exhaled as he allowed himself to settle down into the chair to take in the beautiful afternoon scene. He slipped the cigarette between his lips and began patting himself down for his lighter.
“Filthy habit,” Mrs. Mullins frowned as she gently sipped on her own glass of iced tea. “It might be time for another one of our little sessions, dontcha think?”
Henry smiled. Every now and then Mrs. Mullins had offered him a free hypnotherapy session to help curb his cigarette cravings. It hadn’t come out of nowhere. Henry had openly admitted that he should probably quit more than a few times now. He was getting older, after all, and he was tired of all the judgmental looks we would get from the Lulubelle Mullins of the world whenever he sparked up in public. And so he had, on occasion, followed Mrs. Mullins up to her old office for an impromptu hypnotherapy session. She’s sit on the plush, worn sofa and invite him to lay his head in her lap. She’d get her trusty metronome tick….tick….ticking away and start talking to him ever so softly as she ran her fingers through his hair, as if she were reading him a bedtime story.
Looking up at Mrs. Mullins from his position on the couch, Henry’s vision was almost totally obstructed by her enormous breasts, which strained the fabric of her prairie dress. Not that Henry minded. If anything it was a perk. He could almost make out her pancake-sized nipples through the taut fabric, but that may have just been his overeager imagination. He didn’t really believe in hypnosis and saw the whole exercise as a way to humor the kindly old woman who had given him so much work. As far as Henry was concerned, it was a nice and relaxing way to end the day, with a brief nap and primetime, close-up view of Mrs. Mullins’ massive titties.
Mrs. Mullins would gaze down at Henry and ask him to count backward from 100, speaking to him softly all the while as her fingernails gently scratched up and down his scalp. He never made it below 70 before his eyes fluttered shut. The next thing he knew, Henry would awaken on the couch with his head still in Mrs. Mullins’ lap, feeling like a million bucks. Mrs. Mullins would continue to pat his head affectionately as he slowly came to. Often she’d end the session by offering him a complimentary chocolate kiss and a quick peck on the cheek before sending him on his way.
To Mrs. Mullins’ credit, Henry would often end the day without having another cigarette and have the most spectacular dreams when he went to bed that evening. They were incredibly vivid, as if he were reliving a memory. He would wake up the next morning ridiculously aroused, his erection threatening to poke a hole in his bed sheet. Within seconds the dream had turned to vapor and Henry would find that he was unable to recall a single thing about what had happened in his dream that could have aroused him so. His disappointment was always quickly overridden by the craving for his morning cigarette. Not that Henry was surprised. Hypnosis was bogus, after all. Sure, Lulubelle Mullins certainly seemed to have the ability to make him drift off to sleep, but as far as Henry was concerned that wasn’t too surprising. Wouldn’t anyone fall asleep if a matronly older woman ran her fingers through their hair and spoke to them in such a soothing manner for long enough? If anything, he thought of it as a brief meditation and nothing more. Besides, he knew it didn’t really work. After all, here he was sitting on her porch, sparking up his lucky cigarette.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Mullins…” Henry muttered as he breathed the fresh smoke into his lungs. “I don’t think it’s taking. I mean…” Henry held his cigarette aloft for emphasis as he exhaled the smoke away from Mrs. Mullins. He didn’t want to be rude.
“Well that’s just because we do it so infrequently. It’s all about repetition. Conditioning. Why I bet that if we had a little session every time you came over you’d never buy another pack!”
Henry was prepared to politely decline when the sound of wheels driving over loose gravel pulled his attention to the car approaching the house.
“Uh, hold that thought, sweetie pie.” Mrs. Mullins said as she turned her head and called into the house. “Taylor! Your prince has arrived!”
“Comin’ Mama!”
Taylor came bounding out of the house. That really was the word for it, bounding. As long as Henry had known her, Taylor’s presence was always preceded by the steady thump thump thump of her stomping footsteps. The screen door swung open quickly, slamming against the side of the house before returning to the doorframe with a disquieting rattle.
There she stood, squat and plump with her ruddy, well-worn cowboy boots in hand. Taylor had always been the “baby” of the family, a status that she still retained even though she was well into her 40s now. She wore a red flannel shirt over a dingy white tank top with a pair of fringed denim short shorts that showed off her robust bottom, the bottoms of her pale cheeks just peeking out from below. Taylor had always been a self-described “barefoot girl”, electing to eschew footwear as often as she could. Henry’s earliest memory of her was watching her paint her toenails right here on that very porch, wiggling her round little toes as she blew on her freshly painted nails, absently twirling her dirty blonde hair with her finger.
Taylor was barefoot now. Henry noticed that her nails were currently painted white. Taylor bent her knee and brought her foot up, wiping off any excess dirt and dust before stuffing her plump little feet into her trusty red cowboy boots.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Mrs. Mullins asked incredulously. “I thought you said this was a date.”
“Yeah, a casual one,” Taylor, grumbled. “It’s just drinks.”
A plausible man stepped out of from the car that was still idling in the driveway. Henry pegged him to be in his early thirties. He was mousy and a little overdressed. For a casual date, anyway. It was only now that Taylor noticed Henry there on the porch. She seemed to stand a little straighter and Henry couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were drawn to his sweaty, hairy chest.
“Heya, Henry,” Taylor drawled. “Mama, you didn’t tell me Henry was comin’!”
“He’s been here all day,” Mrs. Mullins replied. “Not my fault you sleep all day.”
“How’re ya doin’?” Taylor asked. She was looking at him like food.
“Oh, you know, fine.” Henry shrugged. “Just finished helping your mother here with the porch.”
“Oh! I was just gonna say…” Taylor said, biting her lip and showing off her buckteeth. In truth she hadn’t even noticed the new porch. “Well, I don’t know if my Mama ever said anythin’ but there’s been this pesky buzzin’ sound comin’ from my bedroom. Maybe I can show you next time you’re over?”
“Sure,” Henry said. “I’d be happy to take a look.”
Taylor smiled. She hoped that Henry was picking up on what she was putting down. But if history was any indication, he had absolutely no clue that she was flirting with him. He was still as thick as ever. Taylor hadn’t always seen Henry in such a rose colored light. As a kid he’d been denser than tungsten and in many ways he still was. But upon returning home from California, Taylor had started seeing him differently. He was a man now, grown, brawny and helpful. A tall drink of water, as her mother might say. Taylor and her sister Mimi were still single and had long passed the point where marriage had become desirable. Taylor had watched all her friends get hitched and settle down. Meanwhile she struggled to make any relationship last for more than a year. Making things increasingly difficult was the limited dating pool in their small town. There just weren’t many available men for them to see. People had begun to whisper that the Mullins sisters were “spinsters” who had turned their mother’s stately home into a convent for the untouched.
But oh boy did she want to touch Henry. This attraction had only grown since he’d starting coming around the house for repairs. Sometimes Taylor and Mimi would just spectate from afar, whispering to each other as they watched the sweat stains on his shirt expand and his belt ride low to reveal his hips and crack. Soon they’d start finding any excuse to have their Handy Henry over again so they could ogle and fantasize the day away. And soon, very soon, those fantasies would –
“Honey, your date…” Mrs. Mullins said, pointedly.
Taylor snapped out of her trance and flashed a quick smile before stepping off the porch.
“Yes. Thank you, mama. I’ll see ya real soon, Henry!”
Henry gave her a little wave as he watched her climb into her date’s car. He took another long sip of his iced tea as he watched the car drive away, kicking up gravel and dust in its wake. He nearly jumped when he felt Mrs. Mullins’ soft hand gently touch his wrist.
“So what do you say, huh? Just a quick little session? It’d just about make my day. It’ll take this time, I promise.”
Henry considered saying no. He didn’t believe in hypnosis and had already spent almost the whole day at the house already. What he really wanted to do was go home, drink a few beers, and watch YouTube videos. But then again, he did finish the porch ahead of schedule and Mrs. Mullins really was the sweetest old lady. What was an extra half hour to humor his best client?
“Alright,” Henry smiled as he knocked back the last of his iced tea, “let’s do it.”
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The air in Mrs. Mullins’ office was thicker than usual, smelling of baby powder and cheap incense. The late afternoon light cast a lovely glow over the room, illuminating the oak desk and dresser set up against the opposite wall and the woven rug that stretched out across the hardwood floor. It was warm, one of the few rooms in the house without proper air conditioning, which was surprising since it was situated on the top floor. Henry suspected this room used to be the attic, a roomy one to be sure, but still. Mrs. Mullins always insisted that all you needed to cool the room was an open window, bandying about the term “cross-ventilation,” which Henry believed she was using incorrectly. Mrs. Mullins was struggling with that very window now. Henry stepped forward to help.
“Please. Let me…”
Mrs. Mullins stepped aside. It took a few grunts but Henry was able to prop the window open in no time.
“My hero…” Mrs. Mullins smiled.
“Just needs some WD-40. I can run and grab some from downstairs if you –“
“Oh nonsense, dear. Maybe next time you’re over. Please…”
Mrs. Mullins took her seat on the couch, wiggling her butt a little as she settled in. It was an old, pistachio green thing. Very ‘80s. The piping was worn and frayed from years of use but the cushions remained surprisingly supportive and firm. Beside the right arm of the couch was a little end table, atop of which sat Mrs. Mullins trusty metronome, a short candle in a silver stick, a bundle of what looked like lavender, and a small, ornate jewelry box.
Mrs. Mullins patted her lap invitingly and gave Henry a sly little smile.
“Okay, kiddo. You know the drill.”
Henry held his tongue. He didn’t like being spoken to like a child. He was already condescended to enough in his life by those who thought themselves more intelligent and didn’t appreciate it when that subtext became text in conversation. But he didn’t let it show. The sooner he let Mrs. Mullins do her thing, the sooner he could go home, get loaded, and crank one out to thoughts of her massive chest.
Henry kicked off his shoes and settled in on the couch, gently laying his head in Mrs. Mullins’ lap. Immediately he felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. It seemed he was far more tired than he thought. But he waved this off. He’d had such a long day, after all.
“There…” Mrs. Mullins cooed, her hand already petting his hair. “Isn’t that better, dear.”?
“Mhm…” Henry mumbled, stifling a yawn.
Mrs. Mullins reached over and set off her metronome, the gentle and monotonous tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock seemed to fill the room. Before Mrs. Mullins could begin however, a shadow appeared in the doorway.
“Mama…?”
It was Mimi. She must have just gotten home. The older of the sisters, Mimi had a quieter disposition than Taylor. She was tall and slender, around six feet tall as near as Henry could tell, and unlike her sister favored a darker wardrobe of slates and browns. Impossibly shy, Henry had rarely heard her speak above a whisper. He remembered being afraid of her for a brief period when he was little, due to her striking resemblance to the “other mother” from the book “Coraline.” This was not only due to her height and somewhat severe hairstyle, but her long piano fingers that cast an almost spider-like shadow on the wall. Even now, seeing her in the doorway briefly made the breath catch in Henry’s throat.
“Later…” Mrs. Mullins firmly intoned.
Mimi gave the slightest of nods and quickly vanished from the doorway. Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…
“Now…where were we?”
Henry cleared his throat and settled his head into Mrs. Mullins’ lap. There they were again, her mammoth breasts just inches from his face. Henry’s mouth was watering. What he would give to just…
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“Take a deep breath in…”
Henry took a long, deep inhale, feeling the air fill his chest.
“And out…”
Henry’s lips parted, barely, and allowed the air to escape in a long, cool stream.
Mrs. Mullins fingertips began to lazily drag along his scalp now. He could feel the goosebumps rising along his arms and the back of his neck. He’d forgotten how good this felt. The whole time, his eyes remained fixed on Mrs. Mullins swelling chest, noticing the ways her chest jiggled ever so slightly as she spoke.
“Very good. That’s right. Just keep breathing deeply. Just like that. And whenever you’re ready, I’d like you to start counting backwards from 100. Nice and slow.”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“100…99…98…”
“Just keep breathing in…and out…as you continue to listen to my voice. Nothing else matters right now. This is your time. This is your time to relax. And to sink. And to feel so very, very good. And as you listen to my voice…”
“97…96…95…”
“You’ll begin to notice that your head sinks just a little deeper into my soft, warm lap with each exhale. That’s right. You’re doing so well. There’s nothing else you have to do, nowhere else you need to be. You’re exactly where you need to be right now doing exactly what you need to do. Shhhh…”
The air in the room hung heavy like blankets over his still form. God he was tired. He could already feel his throat relaxing. It was getting harder to say the numbers. His gaze briefly drifted upward to the ceiling. Had that water stain always been there? He’d have to fix that. Probably had something to do with…
“94…93…92…”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“Yessssss. That’s right. The lower you count the more you relax and the more you relax the better you feel. And as you continue to relax, you’ll start to notice that it’s taking more and moooooore effort to remember the next number. They’re beginning to disappear. As if they were turning to vapor and just floooooooating away. That’s right…”
It was true. The pauses between each number were getting longer and longer. Henry had to take a beat to remember what came next. What came after 92 again? He yawned.
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“91…….90…….89……”
“And with each and every blink, you find that it’s becoming more and mooooooore comfortable to keep your eyes closed than it is to keep them open. And with each blink becoming longer and longer, you find that your eyelids are becoming heavvvvvvvvier now. Sooooooooo heavy now. And those numbers just keep slip…slip….sliiiiiiiiipping away…”
“88…....87…....86…….”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“And it feels so good to have someone here to help remember the numbers for you. It feels so good to just relax and let you mind slooooooow down. To let your mind go blank. To spend a moment with someone who knows exactly how to help you just drifffffffft away.”
Henry’s vision was starting to blur. The moments where his eyelids were shut and at rest felt oh so good. How long had it been since he took a nap in the sun? The persistent combing of Mrs. Mullins fingers through his hair kept drawing him deeper down. He had a sudden, vivid memory of his head in his mothers lap as they sat beside a pool. They’d been on vacation and he’d been unable to sleep on the hotel’s pullout couch. And so his mother had sat by the pool with his head in her lap, just like this, and stroked his head until…
“85……..84………83……...”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“And I wonder, as you struggle so valiantly to resist the urge to close those heavy, sleeeeeeeeeepy eyes: do you feel as sleeeeeeepy as you look right now. I can tell just by looking at your serene little face just how sleeeeeeeeeepy you are. Your eyelids are so….heavy now. Sooooooo heaaaaaaavy now. I can see them fluttering.”
“82……….81………80……”
“I can see how much effort it’s taking, how hard you’re trying to keep those tired, sleeeeeeeeeeepy eyes open, doing your best to stay here with Mama Lulu as your conscious mind slooooooows to a crawl.”
Wait, what did she say? Henry wanted to replay that last bit in his head to make sure he’d heard her correctly. What had Mrs. Mullins called herself? But any attempt to fixate on those words proved futile. Henry scarcely knew where he was anymore. His eyelids felt like lead, just kissing the bottoms of his eyes now. He could hold out a little longer. He knew he could. He could worry about whatever Mrs. Mullins had said later. All he knew was the next number, and if he could just focus on that…
“79……..78…….77……”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“That’s right….such a good boy counting down to trance for me. It’s soooooo easy to drop for me. So eeeeeeeeeasy to just….sink into this wonderful sleeeeeeeeeepy feeling. It’s time now, baby boy. It’s time to….Sleep!”
And with that, Mrs. Mullins snapped her fingers and Henry’s eyes fell shut.
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It was dark when Henry awoke. He was still on the couch but Mrs. Mullins was nowhere to be seen. Disoriented, Henry slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. It was nearly pitch black in Mrs. Mullins’ office now, the room only lit by the pale shafts of moonlight that crept in through the still-open window. How long had he been laying there?
Henry slowly got to his feet and fished his phone out of his pocket. The battery was nearly dead at seven percent. Shit, it was nearly eight o’clock. He needed to get going. But where was Mrs. Mullins?
As he stood up, Henry noticed that his underwear was mildly damp. What was that about? He hadn’t peed himself, though he certainly felt the urge to use the restroom. How long ago had he drank all that iced tea?
Suddenly he heard a noise coming from downstairs, as if someone had banged against the kitchen table, and decided to investigate. It was too late to ride his bike home now and he’d need to call an Uber. It would take him just a few minutes to charge his phone and then he could get out of there.
But as Henry came downstairs and entered the kitchen he was puzzled to see that nobody was there. Where had that noise come from? He spotted a phone charger plugged into the outlet on the counter and set his phone to charge. Opening the fridge, he helped himself to a few slices of deli turkey and a sip of leftover iced tea.
“ehehehehehehehehe - *bang!* “
There was that noise again. What was that? It seemed to be coming from the basement. Henry had only been down there a few times before, mostly just to check the circuit breaker or retrieve some old tools that Mrs. Mullins’ late husband had stored there. Had someone hurt themselves? He approached the door that led to the basement and tentatively wrapped his fingers around the knob. He pulled it open and stuck his head into the darkened stairwell. He could hear the noise more clearly now. Was that…laughter?
“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Puh-puh-puhleeehehehehehehease!”
Henry slowly descended the stairs, step by step, doing his best to keep quiet. He couldn’t articulate why, but he thought it best that he keep his presence a secret. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Henry saw a long corridor with doors on either side, about six in total, with another door at the very end of the hall. One of the doors was slightly ajar, a sliver of light cutting through the near pitch dark. Through the door, Henry could hear more laughter. It was desperate, pleading.
“Eheheheheheheheheheheheheheheeeeee! Ihihihihihihihihihihi’m soh-ho-horreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! NO! NO! No more! I said I was sor –“
“PBRBRBRBRBRBRTTT!”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE HEHEHEHEHEHEHER STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!”
“But I thought you said you wiked wazbewwies! You ate all of ‘em during dessert! I thought you’d want moooooore!”
That was Taylor’s voice! What was going on in there? Henry crept down the hallway as slowly as he could, doing his best to avoid being discovered. He was nearly at the door now.
“Awww, baby’s made a mess! Hold on, I have just the thing.”
Henry reached the door and peered inside. What he saw took his breath away. There, strapped naked to a bondage table, was Taylor’s date. His body was sweaty and trembling, his erect cock bobbing freely in the air, dribbling precum. He was wearing a blindfold, with his wrists and ankles firmly held in place by thick leather straps. His belly was covered in lipstick kisses, at least three dozen. There, kneeling by the head of the table was Mimi, her lips moving just inches from the poor man’s ear. Henry couldn’t make out what she was saying but it seemed to be having a devastating effect on the man. As her lips moved, the man began to whine and pull reflexively against his restraints. All the while, his cock continued to throb and pulse and bounce.
“No…” he whimpered, “that’s not…nuhhh…nooo…don’t say that…I…I can’t…please….that’s not…that’s not true…stop…please stop…”
“I’m baaaaaack!” Taylor sang as she bounced back into the room, armed with a pink feather duster. “Guess what I haaaaaave!”
“Please!” the man croaked, trying his best to lift his head up, “just…just let me go…I swear I won’t tell a soul what yo-oooohhohohohhohohohohooooo!”
Taylor had started dusting his right sole with the fluffy feather duster, a predatory little smile spreading across her face as she watched his toes twitch and dance.
“Won’t tell a sole? But you have two of ‘em right here! And they’re awfully dusty, aren’t they?”
“Nohohohohohohohooooooo! Nohohohohoho duhuhuhuhust! Plehehehehehease nahahahahahahat mihihihihihihihiy feeeeeehehehehehehehet!”
“Aww! Did you see that Mimi? The widdle wiggler’s got some tickly piggies! I know how much you wuv those. Why don’t you tell him a piggy story?”
Mimi leaned down once more and pressed her lips beside the man’s ear. No sooner did she start speaking did his laughter begin to spike.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOO! MAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE HER STOP! GEHEHEHEHEHET HEHEHEHEHEHER AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHWAHAHAY FROHOHOHOHOHOM MEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T STAHAHAHAHAHAHAND IHIHIHIHIHIHIT!”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific honey bun. Are you talking about meeeeeee?” Taylor asked as she took a step forward and began dusting his cock. As the beads of precum got caught in the feathers they began to glisten and shine in the light, giving the duster an almost magical, sparkly effect. The man moaned in pleasure but these were soon overtaken by giggles once more as Mimi’s hands crept down his outstretched arms, teasing him slowly from his elbows to his armpits.
“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR SIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHISTER! GEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET HEHEHEHEHEHEHER AWUH-AWUHAHAHAHAHAHAY FROHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOM MIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIY EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEARS! MAHAHAHAHAHAKE HEHEHEHEHEHER STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP TAHAHAHAHAHAHALKING! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUNBEHEHEHEHEHEARABLE!”
Mimi didn’t seem to like that. Her lips began to move even faster as she continued to whisper god knows what into his ears. This was too much for the man and he began to buck against his restraints with renewed desperation and shake his head. Henry couldn’t be sure but…were those tears rolling down his cheeks?
“STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! STHOHOHOHOHOHOP! OHHOHOH GOHOHOHOD MAHAHAHAHAKE HEHEHEHEHER STOHOHOHOHOHOHOOP! I’M SORREEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE! I’M SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORRY! I – “
“PBRBRBRBRBRBRTTT! Taylor was grinning as she gave him another raspberry. Then another. And another. “PBRBRBRBRBRBRZZZTT!”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
The man was beyond words now. All he could do was shake, rattle, laugh and sob as the two sisters had their way with him.
“Wow look at all these kisses!” Taylor exclaimed as she regarded the garden of lipstick kisses that had blossomed all over his trembling torso. “How many do you think there are, Mimi? She asked, giving the man’s face a quick little dusting with her feathers for emphasis.
Mimi, who was busy stroking and skittering her long fingers in the hollows of the shrieking man’s armpits, simply shrugged, before giving the man’s ear a tender little kiss.
“Hmmmm, I don’t know either. Let’s count, ‘em!”
“NO! NOHOHOHOHO! DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T! IHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S TOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOO MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANYYY!”
“Well let’s see!” Taylor began poking and wiggling her finger against the lipstick marks one at a time, making sure to change the manner of touch with each successive kiss. The first one was a quick poke. The second was a naughty finger wiggle. The third was a quick digging of her knuckle. And so on. “Twooooooooo! Threeeeeeeeee!”
“TAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAYLOHOHOHOR! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHID IHIHIHIHIHIHI WAHAHAHAHAHAHAS SOHOHOHOHOHOHOORRRRREEEEEEE!”
“Fouuuuuuurrrrrrrrr….”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!”
Taylor stepped back from the table and pouted.
“Awwww, you made me lose count. I’m gonna have to start all over. Mimi, tell him about the Silly Seat!”
“NO! I DOHOHOHOHOHON’T WAHAHAHAHANNA HEHEHEHEHEAR ABOHOHOHOHOUT THEHEHE – “
But then Mimi’s began to whisper in the man’s ear again and he absolutely lost it. His neck was bright red, nearly matching the shades of lipstick that covered his torso.
“NOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI WOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T! IHIHIHIHIHI WOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T! YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU CAHAHAHAHAHAHN’T MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE MEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!”
“Onnnnnnnne….Twooooooooo….Threeeeeeeee!”
There were at least thirty lipstick marks on the poor man’s belly alone. This would take all night at this rate. And what one earth was Mimi whispering in his ear to make his reactions so violent?
But before Henry could properly ponder those questions, he heard the scrape of a shoe on the concrete floor behind him. His heart stopped as he spun around turned to see Mrs. Mullins standing there. Henry’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know what to do.
“M-M-Mrs. Mullins! I-I…”
Mrs. Mullins reached out to Henry and placed her hand on the side of his head, with her palm over his ear and her fingers gently teasing the hair along the back of his neck.
“Beddybye…”
Henry’s knees gave out from under him and he dropped like a stone. Everything went dark.
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Henry awoke with a start, his heart pounding, temples wet with sweat. He was back on the couch in Mrs. Mullins’ office. This time the light was on and he could see Mrs. Mullins standing by the desk. She looked worried and rushed over to him, holding a glass of ice water.
“Ssshhh! Ssshhh! You’re okay. You’re okay. Don’t sit up too fast.”
“What…what time…?
Henry reached into his pocket and was surprised to see that his phone was there, the battery at seven percent. Hadn’t he plugged it in downstairs? It was a few minutes after eight.
“Here, drink.”
Henry accepted the water and drank it eagerly. God he was thirsty.
“What…what happened?”
“You threw up a little while you were under,” Mrs. Mullins said, indicating toward a wet spot on the rug nearby. “You had a little bit of a fever so I let you rest in here a bit. Judging by those sweat stains though, I’d say the fever’s broken.”
“So there wasn’t…?”
“Wasn’t what, dear?”
Looking at Mrs. Mullins now it all seemed so silly. He did feel crummy, that was true. And there was a stain on the floor. The idea that he’d spied on the Mullins Sisters tickling a helpless captive seemed pretty far-fetched now that he was awake in the warm light of Lulubelle’s office. The idea of even mentioning any of this to her felt stupid. After all, he always had crazy dreams whenever he and Mrs. Mullins had one of their sessions.
“Nothing,” Henry smiled. “Thanks for taking care of me but I should probably get home.”
“If you’re up for it,” Mrs. Mullins nodded.
She followed him downstairs. The house was still and quiet. There was no sign of another soul present. And when Henry stepped out onto the new porch and breathed the cool night air into his lungs, there were no other cars parked in the driveway. Whatever reservations he had were quickly put to rest. Just another crazy dream, he figured.
Mrs. Mullins gave him a little wave as she watched him bike down the road toward home.
“Sweet dreams, Henry,” she giggled to herself before stepping back inside the house. She strode into the kitchen and opened the door that led to the basement.
“Girls…” she called out, “he’s gone.”
“Thank you, mama!” Taylor called out from below.
“Don’t think this is finished, young lady,” Mrs. Mullins scolded, “You and I are gonna have a chat tomorrow. But for now…you girls play nice, you hear?
“Yes, Mama…“ came the muted reply. “Now where were we…”
Muffled screams and laughter floated up the stairs from somewhere dark below.
“Mrrrrmph! Nnnnnnmph! Mmmmpphphphphphphph!”
Then Mrs. Mullins shut the basement door and the sounds of faraway struggle faded away. She poured herself a glass of iced tea and sat at the kitchen table. As far as Henry was concerned, the hard part was over. Now it was just a matter of finding another problem that needed fixin’ around the house. And in a house as old and storied as the Mullins’ Manor, that wouldn’t be too hard at all.
At times like this Henry could scarcely understand how he could have ever left this town. It hadn’t been that long ago that Henry had sworn that he’d never come back. It was an open secret around town, ever since he’d been a child, that Henry had never been the brightest bulb. As a child he had been easy to trick, and as an adult he could be painfully thick at times. This was why he never felt inclined to chime in on politics or current events. Such things didn’t interest him, and even if they did, he wouldn’t have much to say. In truth, Henry was the definition of a simple man. He never finished high school, instead dropping out to help his buddy Rich with his handyman business, which funnily enough sometimes serviced the very high school Henry had once attended. It had been lucrative work at the time. Why go into debt going to college or even bothering with his GED when there was money to be made? He did alright for himself for a time. It wasn’t uncommon to spot Henry fixing a light bulb at the public library or installing new pews at the local church.
But by the time he hit 25 Henry was itching to leave. He wanted to live somewhere where nobody knew him. Such was the life of a small town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, including Henry’s. When he and his old girlfriend Tammy split up it was the scandal of the year. When he’d wrapped his Toyota around a telephone pole the evening of his 24th birthday, everyone had whispered that he was a drunk. He was too embarrassed to admit the truth that he’d crashed while reaching for his dropped phone. As such, Henry now rode his bike everywhere he went, adding a humiliating dimension to his perceived arrested development.
And so, like many a young dreamer before him, he’d hopped on a plane to California. He’d followed an old buddy of his out there who claimed that NFTs were the next big thing. The idea was simple: start a fiction podcast about warring Beetle People, turn the podcast into a comic, then turn the characters into collectible NFTs that they’d sell at a huge profit. Of course, this turned out to be a scam and Henry got hosed, losing thousands overnight while his so-called friend made off like a bandit and cut all contact. Thus, a little over a year and a half later, Henry had moved back to Scarlett Creek and started picking up work as a handyman again. By far his most lucrative jobs were the ones that he performed for the girls.
The “girls” of course being Mrs. Lulubelle Mullins, who had just celebrated her 70th birthday, and her two daughters, Taylor and Mimi, who were 40 and 50 respectively. Henry had known the Mullins all his life. Mrs. Mullins had been one of his mother’s closest friends and though he had been expected to call Taylor and Whitney “Auntie” growing up, they hadn’t been particularly close. They were much older than him and had little interest in entertaining the local D student at local events and holiday dinners.
When he’d returned home from the west coast, Henry’s mother had informed him that Mrs. Mullins needed some work done around the house. It had started off innocently enough. A light fixture here, a new gardening bed there, but now it felt as though Henry were working there full time. If it hadn’t been for the occasional paintjob of the odd mom-and-pop shop in town, he might have been. And now that he’d finished the most demanding task they’d asked of him yet, he figured he deserved a little treat.
As he dug about in the front pocket of his button down, Henry heard the screen door open behind him. Even before he heard her voice he knew who it was. The soft tinkling of ice in a large pitcher gave it away every time.
“Oh my stars! Henry! I can’t believe it…” Mrs. Mullins exclaimed as she stepped out onto the porch, her eyes wide in amazement. “It’s like new.”
“Well, it is new, right?” Henry shrugged, fishing a depleted box of Marlboro Reds from the front pocket of his shirt. He only had two cigarettes left. Given his recent achievement, he opted to smoke the lucky one.
“That’s quite right,” Mrs. Mullins nodded, the way one might confirm a toddler’s observation about the sun being bright, as she gestured for Henry to sit beside her at the little antique table she liked to keep out front for company. At the ripe age of 70, Lulubelle Mullins was an old school southern belle. She liked to wear her hair up and didn’t dare hurry for anyone. She moved at her own pace, her lilting southern accent soft and practiced, eyes crinkled from decades of smiling.
She had been a stunner in her day; Henry had seen the photos. Mrs. Mullins had looked like a curvy Barbie doll: blonde, silky hair, a prodigious bust, wide hips, and long legs that drew the eye to her shapely feet. She’d been a debutante growing up, often participating in local pageants and parades. Her special talent at these pageants was feats of hypnotism; often performed on chickens and snakes she’d sourced from her family farm, but eventually graduated to inviting audience members up on stage to participate. When she’d grown tired of living a life on display, she got her certification and began working as a hypnotherapist out of her home. Now retired, Mrs. Mullins looked nothing like the trophy wife and pageant queen she had once been. Now more often than not she dressed like a storybook character. She often wore smocks or aprons over conservative ankle-length dresses that invited comparisons to a nanny or nursemaid. When she wasn’t volunteering at local events and fundraisers, she could be found in her garden, tending to her many exotic flowers and vegetables.
Henry took a seat beside Mrs. Mullins on the porch; his lucky cigarette pinched between his fingers as he accepted a very full glass of iced tea from Mrs. Mullins.
“Thank ya, kindly,” Henry said, raising his glass to her.
“Anytime, sugar. Thank YOU for all your hard work today.”
Henry closed his eyes as he took that first cool sip of iced tea. After his celebratory cigarette, this was often the highlight of his day at the Mullins Manor. Mrs. Mullins likely had the best iced tea recipe in town, not too sweet and not too bitter with just the right amount of lemon. As he drank, Mrs. Mullins stared at his sweat-covered neck, watching his Adams apple bob up and down as he drank his tea.
“Ahhh,” Henry exhaled as he allowed himself to settle down into the chair to take in the beautiful afternoon scene. He slipped the cigarette between his lips and began patting himself down for his lighter.
“Filthy habit,” Mrs. Mullins frowned as she gently sipped on her own glass of iced tea. “It might be time for another one of our little sessions, dontcha think?”
Henry smiled. Every now and then Mrs. Mullins had offered him a free hypnotherapy session to help curb his cigarette cravings. It hadn’t come out of nowhere. Henry had openly admitted that he should probably quit more than a few times now. He was getting older, after all, and he was tired of all the judgmental looks we would get from the Lulubelle Mullins of the world whenever he sparked up in public. And so he had, on occasion, followed Mrs. Mullins up to her old office for an impromptu hypnotherapy session. She’s sit on the plush, worn sofa and invite him to lay his head in her lap. She’d get her trusty metronome tick….tick….ticking away and start talking to him ever so softly as she ran her fingers through his hair, as if she were reading him a bedtime story.
Looking up at Mrs. Mullins from his position on the couch, Henry’s vision was almost totally obstructed by her enormous breasts, which strained the fabric of her prairie dress. Not that Henry minded. If anything it was a perk. He could almost make out her pancake-sized nipples through the taut fabric, but that may have just been his overeager imagination. He didn’t really believe in hypnosis and saw the whole exercise as a way to humor the kindly old woman who had given him so much work. As far as Henry was concerned, it was a nice and relaxing way to end the day, with a brief nap and primetime, close-up view of Mrs. Mullins’ massive titties.
Mrs. Mullins would gaze down at Henry and ask him to count backward from 100, speaking to him softly all the while as her fingernails gently scratched up and down his scalp. He never made it below 70 before his eyes fluttered shut. The next thing he knew, Henry would awaken on the couch with his head still in Mrs. Mullins’ lap, feeling like a million bucks. Mrs. Mullins would continue to pat his head affectionately as he slowly came to. Often she’d end the session by offering him a complimentary chocolate kiss and a quick peck on the cheek before sending him on his way.
To Mrs. Mullins’ credit, Henry would often end the day without having another cigarette and have the most spectacular dreams when he went to bed that evening. They were incredibly vivid, as if he were reliving a memory. He would wake up the next morning ridiculously aroused, his erection threatening to poke a hole in his bed sheet. Within seconds the dream had turned to vapor and Henry would find that he was unable to recall a single thing about what had happened in his dream that could have aroused him so. His disappointment was always quickly overridden by the craving for his morning cigarette. Not that Henry was surprised. Hypnosis was bogus, after all. Sure, Lulubelle Mullins certainly seemed to have the ability to make him drift off to sleep, but as far as Henry was concerned that wasn’t too surprising. Wouldn’t anyone fall asleep if a matronly older woman ran her fingers through their hair and spoke to them in such a soothing manner for long enough? If anything, he thought of it as a brief meditation and nothing more. Besides, he knew it didn’t really work. After all, here he was sitting on her porch, sparking up his lucky cigarette.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Mullins…” Henry muttered as he breathed the fresh smoke into his lungs. “I don’t think it’s taking. I mean…” Henry held his cigarette aloft for emphasis as he exhaled the smoke away from Mrs. Mullins. He didn’t want to be rude.
“Well that’s just because we do it so infrequently. It’s all about repetition. Conditioning. Why I bet that if we had a little session every time you came over you’d never buy another pack!”
Henry was prepared to politely decline when the sound of wheels driving over loose gravel pulled his attention to the car approaching the house.
“Uh, hold that thought, sweetie pie.” Mrs. Mullins said as she turned her head and called into the house. “Taylor! Your prince has arrived!”
“Comin’ Mama!”
Taylor came bounding out of the house. That really was the word for it, bounding. As long as Henry had known her, Taylor’s presence was always preceded by the steady thump thump thump of her stomping footsteps. The screen door swung open quickly, slamming against the side of the house before returning to the doorframe with a disquieting rattle.
There she stood, squat and plump with her ruddy, well-worn cowboy boots in hand. Taylor had always been the “baby” of the family, a status that she still retained even though she was well into her 40s now. She wore a red flannel shirt over a dingy white tank top with a pair of fringed denim short shorts that showed off her robust bottom, the bottoms of her pale cheeks just peeking out from below. Taylor had always been a self-described “barefoot girl”, electing to eschew footwear as often as she could. Henry’s earliest memory of her was watching her paint her toenails right here on that very porch, wiggling her round little toes as she blew on her freshly painted nails, absently twirling her dirty blonde hair with her finger.
Taylor was barefoot now. Henry noticed that her nails were currently painted white. Taylor bent her knee and brought her foot up, wiping off any excess dirt and dust before stuffing her plump little feet into her trusty red cowboy boots.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Mrs. Mullins asked incredulously. “I thought you said this was a date.”
“Yeah, a casual one,” Taylor, grumbled. “It’s just drinks.”
A plausible man stepped out of from the car that was still idling in the driveway. Henry pegged him to be in his early thirties. He was mousy and a little overdressed. For a casual date, anyway. It was only now that Taylor noticed Henry there on the porch. She seemed to stand a little straighter and Henry couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were drawn to his sweaty, hairy chest.
“Heya, Henry,” Taylor drawled. “Mama, you didn’t tell me Henry was comin’!”
“He’s been here all day,” Mrs. Mullins replied. “Not my fault you sleep all day.”
“How’re ya doin’?” Taylor asked. She was looking at him like food.
“Oh, you know, fine.” Henry shrugged. “Just finished helping your mother here with the porch.”
“Oh! I was just gonna say…” Taylor said, biting her lip and showing off her buckteeth. In truth she hadn’t even noticed the new porch. “Well, I don’t know if my Mama ever said anythin’ but there’s been this pesky buzzin’ sound comin’ from my bedroom. Maybe I can show you next time you’re over?”
“Sure,” Henry said. “I’d be happy to take a look.”
Taylor smiled. She hoped that Henry was picking up on what she was putting down. But if history was any indication, he had absolutely no clue that she was flirting with him. He was still as thick as ever. Taylor hadn’t always seen Henry in such a rose colored light. As a kid he’d been denser than tungsten and in many ways he still was. But upon returning home from California, Taylor had started seeing him differently. He was a man now, grown, brawny and helpful. A tall drink of water, as her mother might say. Taylor and her sister Mimi were still single and had long passed the point where marriage had become desirable. Taylor had watched all her friends get hitched and settle down. Meanwhile she struggled to make any relationship last for more than a year. Making things increasingly difficult was the limited dating pool in their small town. There just weren’t many available men for them to see. People had begun to whisper that the Mullins sisters were “spinsters” who had turned their mother’s stately home into a convent for the untouched.
But oh boy did she want to touch Henry. This attraction had only grown since he’d starting coming around the house for repairs. Sometimes Taylor and Mimi would just spectate from afar, whispering to each other as they watched the sweat stains on his shirt expand and his belt ride low to reveal his hips and crack. Soon they’d start finding any excuse to have their Handy Henry over again so they could ogle and fantasize the day away. And soon, very soon, those fantasies would –
“Honey, your date…” Mrs. Mullins said, pointedly.
Taylor snapped out of her trance and flashed a quick smile before stepping off the porch.
“Yes. Thank you, mama. I’ll see ya real soon, Henry!”
Henry gave her a little wave as he watched her climb into her date’s car. He took another long sip of his iced tea as he watched the car drive away, kicking up gravel and dust in its wake. He nearly jumped when he felt Mrs. Mullins’ soft hand gently touch his wrist.
“So what do you say, huh? Just a quick little session? It’d just about make my day. It’ll take this time, I promise.”
Henry considered saying no. He didn’t believe in hypnosis and had already spent almost the whole day at the house already. What he really wanted to do was go home, drink a few beers, and watch YouTube videos. But then again, he did finish the porch ahead of schedule and Mrs. Mullins really was the sweetest old lady. What was an extra half hour to humor his best client?
“Alright,” Henry smiled as he knocked back the last of his iced tea, “let’s do it.”
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The air in Mrs. Mullins’ office was thicker than usual, smelling of baby powder and cheap incense. The late afternoon light cast a lovely glow over the room, illuminating the oak desk and dresser set up against the opposite wall and the woven rug that stretched out across the hardwood floor. It was warm, one of the few rooms in the house without proper air conditioning, which was surprising since it was situated on the top floor. Henry suspected this room used to be the attic, a roomy one to be sure, but still. Mrs. Mullins always insisted that all you needed to cool the room was an open window, bandying about the term “cross-ventilation,” which Henry believed she was using incorrectly. Mrs. Mullins was struggling with that very window now. Henry stepped forward to help.
“Please. Let me…”
Mrs. Mullins stepped aside. It took a few grunts but Henry was able to prop the window open in no time.
“My hero…” Mrs. Mullins smiled.
“Just needs some WD-40. I can run and grab some from downstairs if you –“
“Oh nonsense, dear. Maybe next time you’re over. Please…”
Mrs. Mullins took her seat on the couch, wiggling her butt a little as she settled in. It was an old, pistachio green thing. Very ‘80s. The piping was worn and frayed from years of use but the cushions remained surprisingly supportive and firm. Beside the right arm of the couch was a little end table, atop of which sat Mrs. Mullins trusty metronome, a short candle in a silver stick, a bundle of what looked like lavender, and a small, ornate jewelry box.
Mrs. Mullins patted her lap invitingly and gave Henry a sly little smile.
“Okay, kiddo. You know the drill.”
Henry held his tongue. He didn’t like being spoken to like a child. He was already condescended to enough in his life by those who thought themselves more intelligent and didn’t appreciate it when that subtext became text in conversation. But he didn’t let it show. The sooner he let Mrs. Mullins do her thing, the sooner he could go home, get loaded, and crank one out to thoughts of her massive chest.
Henry kicked off his shoes and settled in on the couch, gently laying his head in Mrs. Mullins’ lap. Immediately he felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. It seemed he was far more tired than he thought. But he waved this off. He’d had such a long day, after all.
“There…” Mrs. Mullins cooed, her hand already petting his hair. “Isn’t that better, dear.”?
“Mhm…” Henry mumbled, stifling a yawn.
Mrs. Mullins reached over and set off her metronome, the gentle and monotonous tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock seemed to fill the room. Before Mrs. Mullins could begin however, a shadow appeared in the doorway.
“Mama…?”
It was Mimi. She must have just gotten home. The older of the sisters, Mimi had a quieter disposition than Taylor. She was tall and slender, around six feet tall as near as Henry could tell, and unlike her sister favored a darker wardrobe of slates and browns. Impossibly shy, Henry had rarely heard her speak above a whisper. He remembered being afraid of her for a brief period when he was little, due to her striking resemblance to the “other mother” from the book “Coraline.” This was not only due to her height and somewhat severe hairstyle, but her long piano fingers that cast an almost spider-like shadow on the wall. Even now, seeing her in the doorway briefly made the breath catch in Henry’s throat.
“Later…” Mrs. Mullins firmly intoned.
Mimi gave the slightest of nods and quickly vanished from the doorway. Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…
“Now…where were we?”
Henry cleared his throat and settled his head into Mrs. Mullins’ lap. There they were again, her mammoth breasts just inches from his face. Henry’s mouth was watering. What he would give to just…
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“Take a deep breath in…”
Henry took a long, deep inhale, feeling the air fill his chest.
“And out…”
Henry’s lips parted, barely, and allowed the air to escape in a long, cool stream.
Mrs. Mullins fingertips began to lazily drag along his scalp now. He could feel the goosebumps rising along his arms and the back of his neck. He’d forgotten how good this felt. The whole time, his eyes remained fixed on Mrs. Mullins swelling chest, noticing the ways her chest jiggled ever so slightly as she spoke.
“Very good. That’s right. Just keep breathing deeply. Just like that. And whenever you’re ready, I’d like you to start counting backwards from 100. Nice and slow.”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“100…99…98…”
“Just keep breathing in…and out…as you continue to listen to my voice. Nothing else matters right now. This is your time. This is your time to relax. And to sink. And to feel so very, very good. And as you listen to my voice…”
“97…96…95…”
“You’ll begin to notice that your head sinks just a little deeper into my soft, warm lap with each exhale. That’s right. You’re doing so well. There’s nothing else you have to do, nowhere else you need to be. You’re exactly where you need to be right now doing exactly what you need to do. Shhhh…”
The air in the room hung heavy like blankets over his still form. God he was tired. He could already feel his throat relaxing. It was getting harder to say the numbers. His gaze briefly drifted upward to the ceiling. Had that water stain always been there? He’d have to fix that. Probably had something to do with…
“94…93…92…”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“Yessssss. That’s right. The lower you count the more you relax and the more you relax the better you feel. And as you continue to relax, you’ll start to notice that it’s taking more and moooooore effort to remember the next number. They’re beginning to disappear. As if they were turning to vapor and just floooooooating away. That’s right…”
It was true. The pauses between each number were getting longer and longer. Henry had to take a beat to remember what came next. What came after 92 again? He yawned.
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“91…….90…….89……”
“And with each and every blink, you find that it’s becoming more and mooooooore comfortable to keep your eyes closed than it is to keep them open. And with each blink becoming longer and longer, you find that your eyelids are becoming heavvvvvvvvier now. Sooooooooo heavy now. And those numbers just keep slip…slip….sliiiiiiiiipping away…”
“88…....87…....86…….”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“And it feels so good to have someone here to help remember the numbers for you. It feels so good to just relax and let you mind slooooooow down. To let your mind go blank. To spend a moment with someone who knows exactly how to help you just drifffffffft away.”
Henry’s vision was starting to blur. The moments where his eyelids were shut and at rest felt oh so good. How long had it been since he took a nap in the sun? The persistent combing of Mrs. Mullins fingers through his hair kept drawing him deeper down. He had a sudden, vivid memory of his head in his mothers lap as they sat beside a pool. They’d been on vacation and he’d been unable to sleep on the hotel’s pullout couch. And so his mother had sat by the pool with his head in her lap, just like this, and stroked his head until…
“85……..84………83……...”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“And I wonder, as you struggle so valiantly to resist the urge to close those heavy, sleeeeeeeeeepy eyes: do you feel as sleeeeeeepy as you look right now. I can tell just by looking at your serene little face just how sleeeeeeeeeepy you are. Your eyelids are so….heavy now. Sooooooo heaaaaaaavy now. I can see them fluttering.”
“82……….81………80……”
“I can see how much effort it’s taking, how hard you’re trying to keep those tired, sleeeeeeeeeeepy eyes open, doing your best to stay here with Mama Lulu as your conscious mind slooooooows to a crawl.”
Wait, what did she say? Henry wanted to replay that last bit in his head to make sure he’d heard her correctly. What had Mrs. Mullins called herself? But any attempt to fixate on those words proved futile. Henry scarcely knew where he was anymore. His eyelids felt like lead, just kissing the bottoms of his eyes now. He could hold out a little longer. He knew he could. He could worry about whatever Mrs. Mullins had said later. All he knew was the next number, and if he could just focus on that…
“79……..78…….77……”
Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…
“That’s right….such a good boy counting down to trance for me. It’s soooooo easy to drop for me. So eeeeeeeeeasy to just….sink into this wonderful sleeeeeeeeeepy feeling. It’s time now, baby boy. It’s time to….Sleep!”
And with that, Mrs. Mullins snapped her fingers and Henry’s eyes fell shut.
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It was dark when Henry awoke. He was still on the couch but Mrs. Mullins was nowhere to be seen. Disoriented, Henry slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. It was nearly pitch black in Mrs. Mullins’ office now, the room only lit by the pale shafts of moonlight that crept in through the still-open window. How long had he been laying there?
Henry slowly got to his feet and fished his phone out of his pocket. The battery was nearly dead at seven percent. Shit, it was nearly eight o’clock. He needed to get going. But where was Mrs. Mullins?
As he stood up, Henry noticed that his underwear was mildly damp. What was that about? He hadn’t peed himself, though he certainly felt the urge to use the restroom. How long ago had he drank all that iced tea?
Suddenly he heard a noise coming from downstairs, as if someone had banged against the kitchen table, and decided to investigate. It was too late to ride his bike home now and he’d need to call an Uber. It would take him just a few minutes to charge his phone and then he could get out of there.
But as Henry came downstairs and entered the kitchen he was puzzled to see that nobody was there. Where had that noise come from? He spotted a phone charger plugged into the outlet on the counter and set his phone to charge. Opening the fridge, he helped himself to a few slices of deli turkey and a sip of leftover iced tea.
“ehehehehehehehehe - *bang!* “
There was that noise again. What was that? It seemed to be coming from the basement. Henry had only been down there a few times before, mostly just to check the circuit breaker or retrieve some old tools that Mrs. Mullins’ late husband had stored there. Had someone hurt themselves? He approached the door that led to the basement and tentatively wrapped his fingers around the knob. He pulled it open and stuck his head into the darkened stairwell. He could hear the noise more clearly now. Was that…laughter?
“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Puh-puh-puhleeehehehehehehease!”
Henry slowly descended the stairs, step by step, doing his best to keep quiet. He couldn’t articulate why, but he thought it best that he keep his presence a secret. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Henry saw a long corridor with doors on either side, about six in total, with another door at the very end of the hall. One of the doors was slightly ajar, a sliver of light cutting through the near pitch dark. Through the door, Henry could hear more laughter. It was desperate, pleading.
“Eheheheheheheheheheheheheheheeeeee! Ihihihihihihihihihihi’m soh-ho-horreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! NO! NO! No more! I said I was sor –“
“PBRBRBRBRBRBRTTT!”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE HEHEHEHEHEHEHER STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!”
“But I thought you said you wiked wazbewwies! You ate all of ‘em during dessert! I thought you’d want moooooore!”
That was Taylor’s voice! What was going on in there? Henry crept down the hallway as slowly as he could, doing his best to avoid being discovered. He was nearly at the door now.
“Awww, baby’s made a mess! Hold on, I have just the thing.”
Henry reached the door and peered inside. What he saw took his breath away. There, strapped naked to a bondage table, was Taylor’s date. His body was sweaty and trembling, his erect cock bobbing freely in the air, dribbling precum. He was wearing a blindfold, with his wrists and ankles firmly held in place by thick leather straps. His belly was covered in lipstick kisses, at least three dozen. There, kneeling by the head of the table was Mimi, her lips moving just inches from the poor man’s ear. Henry couldn’t make out what she was saying but it seemed to be having a devastating effect on the man. As her lips moved, the man began to whine and pull reflexively against his restraints. All the while, his cock continued to throb and pulse and bounce.
“No…” he whimpered, “that’s not…nuhhh…nooo…don’t say that…I…I can’t…please….that’s not…that’s not true…stop…please stop…”
“I’m baaaaaack!” Taylor sang as she bounced back into the room, armed with a pink feather duster. “Guess what I haaaaaave!”
“Please!” the man croaked, trying his best to lift his head up, “just…just let me go…I swear I won’t tell a soul what yo-oooohhohohohhohohohohooooo!”
Taylor had started dusting his right sole with the fluffy feather duster, a predatory little smile spreading across her face as she watched his toes twitch and dance.
“Won’t tell a sole? But you have two of ‘em right here! And they’re awfully dusty, aren’t they?”
“Nohohohohohohohooooooo! Nohohohohoho duhuhuhuhust! Plehehehehehease nahahahahahahat mihihihihihihihiy feeeeeehehehehehehehet!”
“Aww! Did you see that Mimi? The widdle wiggler’s got some tickly piggies! I know how much you wuv those. Why don’t you tell him a piggy story?”
Mimi leaned down once more and pressed her lips beside the man’s ear. No sooner did she start speaking did his laughter begin to spike.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOO! MAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE HER STOP! GEHEHEHEHEHET HEHEHEHEHEHER AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHWAHAHAY FROHOHOHOHOHOM MEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T STAHAHAHAHAHAHAND IHIHIHIHIHIHIT!”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific honey bun. Are you talking about meeeeeee?” Taylor asked as she took a step forward and began dusting his cock. As the beads of precum got caught in the feathers they began to glisten and shine in the light, giving the duster an almost magical, sparkly effect. The man moaned in pleasure but these were soon overtaken by giggles once more as Mimi’s hands crept down his outstretched arms, teasing him slowly from his elbows to his armpits.
“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR SIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHISTER! GEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET HEHEHEHEHEHEHER AWUH-AWUHAHAHAHAHAHAY FROHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOM MIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIY EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEARS! MAHAHAHAHAHAKE HEHEHEHEHEHER STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP TAHAHAHAHAHAHALKING! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUNBEHEHEHEHEHEARABLE!”
Mimi didn’t seem to like that. Her lips began to move even faster as she continued to whisper god knows what into his ears. This was too much for the man and he began to buck against his restraints with renewed desperation and shake his head. Henry couldn’t be sure but…were those tears rolling down his cheeks?
“STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! STHOHOHOHOHOHOP! OHHOHOH GOHOHOHOD MAHAHAHAHAKE HEHEHEHEHER STOHOHOHOHOHOHOOP! I’M SORREEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE! I’M SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORRY! I – “
“PBRBRBRBRBRBRTTT! Taylor was grinning as she gave him another raspberry. Then another. And another. “PBRBRBRBRBRBRZZZTT!”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
The man was beyond words now. All he could do was shake, rattle, laugh and sob as the two sisters had their way with him.
“Wow look at all these kisses!” Taylor exclaimed as she regarded the garden of lipstick kisses that had blossomed all over his trembling torso. “How many do you think there are, Mimi? She asked, giving the man’s face a quick little dusting with her feathers for emphasis.
Mimi, who was busy stroking and skittering her long fingers in the hollows of the shrieking man’s armpits, simply shrugged, before giving the man’s ear a tender little kiss.
“Hmmmm, I don’t know either. Let’s count, ‘em!”
“NO! NOHOHOHOHO! DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T! IHIHIHIHIHIHIT’S TOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOO MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANYYY!”
“Well let’s see!” Taylor began poking and wiggling her finger against the lipstick marks one at a time, making sure to change the manner of touch with each successive kiss. The first one was a quick poke. The second was a naughty finger wiggle. The third was a quick digging of her knuckle. And so on. “Twooooooooo! Threeeeeeeeee!”
“TAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAYLOHOHOHOR! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHID IHIHIHIHIHIHI WAHAHAHAHAHAHAS SOHOHOHOHOHOHOORRRRREEEEEEE!”
“Fouuuuuuurrrrrrrrr….”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!”
Taylor stepped back from the table and pouted.
“Awwww, you made me lose count. I’m gonna have to start all over. Mimi, tell him about the Silly Seat!”
“NO! I DOHOHOHOHOHON’T WAHAHAHAHANNA HEHEHEHEHEAR ABOHOHOHOHOUT THEHEHE – “
But then Mimi’s began to whisper in the man’s ear again and he absolutely lost it. His neck was bright red, nearly matching the shades of lipstick that covered his torso.
“NOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI WOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T! IHIHIHIHIHI WOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T! YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU CAHAHAHAHAHAHN’T MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE MEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!”
“Onnnnnnnne….Twooooooooo….Threeeeeeeee!”
There were at least thirty lipstick marks on the poor man’s belly alone. This would take all night at this rate. And what one earth was Mimi whispering in his ear to make his reactions so violent?
But before Henry could properly ponder those questions, he heard the scrape of a shoe on the concrete floor behind him. His heart stopped as he spun around turned to see Mrs. Mullins standing there. Henry’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know what to do.
“M-M-Mrs. Mullins! I-I…”
Mrs. Mullins reached out to Henry and placed her hand on the side of his head, with her palm over his ear and her fingers gently teasing the hair along the back of his neck.
“Beddybye…”
Henry’s knees gave out from under him and he dropped like a stone. Everything went dark.
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Henry awoke with a start, his heart pounding, temples wet with sweat. He was back on the couch in Mrs. Mullins’ office. This time the light was on and he could see Mrs. Mullins standing by the desk. She looked worried and rushed over to him, holding a glass of ice water.
“Ssshhh! Ssshhh! You’re okay. You’re okay. Don’t sit up too fast.”
“What…what time…?
Henry reached into his pocket and was surprised to see that his phone was there, the battery at seven percent. Hadn’t he plugged it in downstairs? It was a few minutes after eight.
“Here, drink.”
Henry accepted the water and drank it eagerly. God he was thirsty.
“What…what happened?”
“You threw up a little while you were under,” Mrs. Mullins said, indicating toward a wet spot on the rug nearby. “You had a little bit of a fever so I let you rest in here a bit. Judging by those sweat stains though, I’d say the fever’s broken.”
“So there wasn’t…?”
“Wasn’t what, dear?”
Looking at Mrs. Mullins now it all seemed so silly. He did feel crummy, that was true. And there was a stain on the floor. The idea that he’d spied on the Mullins Sisters tickling a helpless captive seemed pretty far-fetched now that he was awake in the warm light of Lulubelle’s office. The idea of even mentioning any of this to her felt stupid. After all, he always had crazy dreams whenever he and Mrs. Mullins had one of their sessions.
“Nothing,” Henry smiled. “Thanks for taking care of me but I should probably get home.”
“If you’re up for it,” Mrs. Mullins nodded.
She followed him downstairs. The house was still and quiet. There was no sign of another soul present. And when Henry stepped out onto the new porch and breathed the cool night air into his lungs, there were no other cars parked in the driveway. Whatever reservations he had were quickly put to rest. Just another crazy dream, he figured.
Mrs. Mullins gave him a little wave as she watched him bike down the road toward home.
“Sweet dreams, Henry,” she giggled to herself before stepping back inside the house. She strode into the kitchen and opened the door that led to the basement.
“Girls…” she called out, “he’s gone.”
“Thank you, mama!” Taylor called out from below.
“Don’t think this is finished, young lady,” Mrs. Mullins scolded, “You and I are gonna have a chat tomorrow. But for now…you girls play nice, you hear?
“Yes, Mama…“ came the muted reply. “Now where were we…”
Muffled screams and laughter floated up the stairs from somewhere dark below.
“Mrrrrmph! Nnnnnnmph! Mmmmpphphphphphphph!”
Then Mrs. Mullins shut the basement door and the sounds of faraway struggle faded away. She poured herself a glass of iced tea and sat at the kitchen table. As far as Henry was concerned, the hard part was over. Now it was just a matter of finding another problem that needed fixin’ around the house. And in a house as old and storied as the Mullins’ Manor, that wouldn’t be too hard at all.
