Alright, I’m just going to be brutally honest–your suggestions for Bob and Ken are boring the hell out of me–either give me some details, or give me something new I haven’t written/seen written five hundred times already. Still, I did like what pervmindgonewild had in mind for David:
Maybe David, trying to get as far away from the upper floors as possible will go outside. There’s a stable out there…
And coupling that with gaynerpig’s comment earlier:
My penis says he should go to the kitchen because that’s always delicious, BUT the garden is unexpected. Perhaps something about “mythical” creatures there. Fairies that trick him into a terrible fate, like becoming one of the Manor’s Gargoyles? Idk.
Mythical, eh? Well, let’s see what David might find out there…
***
Bob had been right–something very strange was going on in this house, and David sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around and find out what it might be–he wanted out. However, every door leading outside was suddenly locked tight, and every window unbreakable–including the one the four pledges had climbed in through. Now, the brave cocky jock was actually scared–maybe all of the stories were true. He’d thought it was just supposed to be a joke, something to weed out the pussies form rush week, but…well, he had a feeling that none of them would be leaving tomorrow if the house could help it. Finally, however, he found a door leading outside–but his momentary happiness was dashed, when he realized the door had opened up onto the massive, hedged in garden back behind the house.
Still, it was better than being in the house, he figured, and so using his cell phone as a flashlight (first checking to see if he had service [he didn’t]) started searching the hedge and fence for any sign of weakness. He’d been walking for a few minutes, long enough to stray a decent distance from the house, when he first heard the song borne on the wind, a light, lilting tune, and suddenly, his worries didn’t really seem so bad after all, and…and he almost felt like dancing. Skipping and jumping along with the beat, he found himself unable to stop smiling as he followed the sound, allowing it to pull him towards a nearly derelict stable.
It was pipe music of some sort, like a flute, but when he ducked inside, even the joyful music couldn’t uproot him from where he froze in the doorway. There, sitting on a barrel by a window, illuminated by the moon, as yet unaware of David’s presence, sat a satyr, pan pipes in his hands playing the jolly tune, and David paled. The beast flicked it’s eyes over to David, and stopped its song.
“Well, well, does the house have more visitors? It’s been awhile you know–it must be hungry,” the satyr said, before bleating at what David assumed to be humor, but he didn’t find the thought of the house eating him to be all that funny.
“Who–what, I mean, I thought…”
“Oh, don’t act too surprised–I’m sure you’ve already seen stranger things by this point,” the satyr said, then looked down, “Ha, well, I suppose I am pretty strange, aren’t I?” He hopped down off the barrel, coming up to David. He was shorter than the jock by at least a foot, and yet, there was a sense that the satyr still had complete control over the situation. “What do you say, should I play you a song, little man? Something to ease your worries, and free your mind? You could always stay with me, you know–I get rather lonely out here in the garden, with only the gargoyles for company.” He gave a sniff at David’s crotch, and snickered, “smells like someone has already had one round of pleasure–how about another?” the satyr grabbed David’s crotch, gently caressing his cock through his jeans, and the human moaned.
“No, please…I just…I just want to get out of here, do you know a way out?”
“Ha, there is no way out, not for you, or anyone else who trespasses on Greywall Manor. Now, shall I play you a song? Something to…help you along, perhaps?”
The satyr raised the pipes to his mouth, and started his song.
***
Uh oh, sounds like David might be in trouble. What’s the brave jock boy going to do to get out of this one, or if he gives in, what’s the satyr’s special song going to do to him? And feel free to keep coming up with ideas for Ken and Bob–but try to be a little less…obvious this time. Give me a challenge here, eh?
Bracken's Corner 