This was edited by my Redheaded_RockyMtn_cumslut . All errors are mine and not hers.
All the people are over the age of 18.
The series will be under Novels and Novellas; not because I have such high aspirations as to write a piece of worthy literature. My stories could be in any of several different categories. In the end I hope this is entertaining, and decently crafted.
Please vote in the end, using the stars. Any comments are welcome. Thanks, and enjoy it.
The tags for this story are:
BDSM, Noncon/Reluctance, Group, Mind Control, big tits, threesome, ffm, bisexual female, spanking
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It's the middle of October and for fucks sake snow has been falling for the last five hours at more than an inch an hour.
It was my night to close and the mall refused to close early. Something about the lease agreements with the anchors requiring the mall to stay open if they did. And of course they stayed opened. I looked up at the windows that constituted the roof and ceiling twenty some odd feet above me. Change the snow to rain and it reminded me of what I remembered of a night this past summer.
Just like today, a series of thunderstorms rolled up from the southwest and between each storm was steady precipitation. It sucked. I had closed that night as well and was walking home when I saw this old woman huddled near a bridge overpass.
She looked like a wet dog and less happy than said dog. I walked up, "Come on, mother, let's get you dry and warm."
She looked at me suspiciously and replied, "Some kind of serial killer, aren't you?"
I laughed, "No, just trying to lend you a hand."
She clutched onto my face and gave me a kiss on the lips. "Bless you, child, but it is not needed."
I shook my head, "Are you sure? I have a nice warm bed you can sleep in tonight and I will sleep on the couch."
Swear to God she cackled. "Bless your heart, but I bet your bed is probably just a mattress on the floor."
I laughed with her, "True or not, it is dry."
She eyeballed me then said, "Bless you again, son, but I am okay."
"Fine," I said. "How about dinner? It has been ages since I have had a dinner date. It would make me happy to have you as my date."
She swung her hips playfully left and right while saying, "A pervy little boy are you? Are you trying to live out some Oedipal fantasy? Well bless you, but no thank you."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. There was only $8.00 left from buying dinner. I handed it to her, "Take it. I am sorry it is all I have, but take it."
She paused before taking the $8. "Why are you trying to help me, young man?"
I shrugged, "The joy of helping someone."
"Bless you with all my heart."
She started shambling off, "Soon, you will not have to find an old woman to help." I watched her go wondering what she meant. When the rain obscured her to the point I couldn't make her form out, I continued the walk home.
Funny, I haven't thought of that old woman since then. But then we hadn't had precipitation like this since that night. However that wasn't all of the answer either. I couldn't put my finger on it, and shrugged it off. No sense in beating myself up without knowing why.
I closed the store, a jewelry store belonging to a local owner who I had never met, and stood at the door of the mall watching the snow continue for a few minutes. Lou had trudged off with mall security to make the bank deposit, freeing me from also walking there, at least.
Turning up the collar of my altogether too light coat I stepped into, which I would learn later, the blizzard. I live just over one mile from the mall and normally it is a quick easy walk.
Not today.
Stepping away from the protected area that comprised the entrance to the mall, the force of the wind became evident. Swirls and eddies of snow danced along the parking lot merrily. Tiny little snow devils celebrating the early release from their arctic confines. Visibility was near zero; the faint glow of the parking lot lamps providing a will-o'-the-wisp like guide. I remember thinking that with only a mile to go, it was unlikely that the ill intentioned sprites could do me harm.
Before I made it halfway through the parking lot my shoes were soaked through and the snow topped them anyway resulting in my socks being wet. I followed the poor glow of the lamps to find that, indeed, the modern replacement for the will-o'-the-wisp had led me astray. I was a good two blocks in the wrong direction from my apartment. By this time my hands had begun tingling with a fiery sensation, which seemed completely at odds with being cold.
As I worked my way to the sidewalk that would lead me past the bridge where I had met the old lady, I noticed the bottom of my pants legs were saturated, all the way to my knees. They were clinging to my calves and I could feel the heat leave as it was whisked away from me by the omnipresent howling, chaotic wind.
Snow blew in a dizzying manner, seemingly coming from all directions and none at the same time. For the first time I wondered if I had made a fatal mistake in walking home and not taking a cab.
By the time I made it to the bridge I was soaked, and freezing. I couldn't feel my toes any longer. The rest of my feet, and legs to the kees were burning and tingly. My arms were in a similar situation, up to my elbows. The pain so intense in my fingers I could no longer distinguish any particular digit from the others.
Snow melted from my head and neck, seeped down my back and started soaking my shirt. The little protection the light jacket I was wearing was subverted by the cold water soaking it and my shirt from the inside. I could feel the heat now radiating from my core into the snowy night. The only part of me not wet was the lower part of my abdomen, and that was rapidly at risk of becoming as wet and cold as the rest of me.
I stopped at the bridge trying to find a place out of the wind and snow. Looking up the slope towards the support that held the tracks above me I saw tens of concrete pyramids, each about six inches tall.
I had no idea my fair city treated its indigent population so shittily. The only purpose of those little pyramids was to keep homeless people from getting comfortable. As if being homeless was a comfortable place. I mean really, what harm could they do up there? Looking around, there was nowhere that I saw to try and get out of the snow storm.
I realized that standing there was doing no good. I was shivering and shaking nearly uncontrollably; and the wind was being funneled through the opening for the street and seemed all the stronger for it. My body was trying to generate heat yet I was getting colder, if not wetter, so I started trudging my way home again. I became so tired, it felt like it took every ounce of energy I had to just put another foot in front of the last one. The cold was sapping the heat and motivation out of me faster than I could generate either. The involuntary shivering continued as I walked.
Snow was collecting along the sidewalk and curb to the street to such a point I could not tell where the sidewalk stopped and the street began. Footing was precarious and I started taking shorter and shorter steps until I was shuffling my feet. Which just shoved more and more snow over the top of my shoes. A gust of wind slammed against my body with a squall of ice and snow that completely obscured my vision. The smooth soles of my shoes provided no traction and I slipped in the snow, ass over tea kettle, as I found the street suddenly.
My head slammed against the curb and stars danced slowly and dimly before my eyes. I tried to cajole myself to get up and seemed to lose the argument. The inertia of my body was greater than my will to rise. I rested my eyes, trying to get the splitting headache I just acquired to subside. It wasn't long until I started to feel a little warmer. Something I nearly remembered from basic training almost made me feel alarmed. That feeling warm when this cold was a very bad sign.
I woke on my mattress the following morning, not knowing how I got there exactly. My head was pounding, like kettledrums in an altogether too small a space, and I felt nauseous. Had I really given myself a concussion on my way home?
For that matter, how did I get home? I had no recollection of my journey after leaving the partial coverage of the bridge.
I sat up slowly and looked around after my vision stopped swirling around. I could see a trail of clothes from the foot of my mattress to the door. Tee shirt, shirt and sports jacket, underwear, pants, belt, socks and shoes were all in a perfect line. I clearly hadn't deviated from the path from the door to bed.
Which means I hadn't brushed my teeth. Gross.
I made my way to the bathroom. My hair was a mess; the collar length black hair all in one giant tangle that I didn't look forward to straightening out. I had two black eyes somehow, or maybe the worst case of bags ever. I shivered as a tsunami of cold crashed over me. Overall, I felt only slightly worse than I did after getting shot while in the Army. Which is saying a lot. Getting shot sucks.
I started the shower after brushing my teeth and stepped in, letting the hot water soak into me and warm my core temperature. As I warmed up, I relaxed against the wall and considered drawing a bath to speed the process. Something about that maneuver sounded wrong, but I couldn't remember why it was bad to do. Memory of my ill advised trek home started filling in and I recalled picking myself up out of the snow and walking the rest of the way to my apartment. What struck me as odd is that the memory of my walking home I recall that my stride was quick and purposeful, unlike what it was immediately prior to falling.
After my shower I called my boss, Rhonda. "Hey, I need you to close today," I said when she picked up.
"Why?" She responded tersely. "Why should I work a double for you?"
I was annoyed, in the six months I worked for the store, I hadn't missed a shift and was promoted twice. The only reason I didn't get the job as manager when the previous manager left was that Christmas was coming and I had never worked a retail Christmas season. So they brought Rhonda in.
"I fell last night on the way home, you have to work all day."
Rhonda sighed, "This is really inconvenient, Hugh."
