Chapter 3 | Evening

By kuro & S. Q. Neemie
published October 6, 2020
5409 words

John and his bros visit a bar.

The waiter’s load is still on the table and I scoop up a good handful for dessert. I hear that most restaurants now have a cum-tasting section in their hiring process, since it’s so likely that waiters will be unloading as part of their duties. From the taste, this dude is probably pretty well paid. Of course, that’s everyone these days – with the birthrate near zero, there’s plenty of money to go around, just too many jobs. The government has said that they may have to start enforced vaginal sex to up the number of people. Sure, we’re all hardwired to unload in vaginas, but it’s such a hassle now to travel to what amounts to a different country in order to do it.

“Oh, yeah, Barclay’s been drafted,” says Reeve when I bring it up with the other dudes. “He has to go pump it for them next month. I told him he needed to bulk up and gush up but Barclay fucking can’t do anything that isn’t his grad school research.” For safety’s sake, no one bigger than eight inches and more than 3 tablespoons of sperm production can breed, and Barclay’s one of the few dudes left who can’t be bothered. I keep thinking he will when he finds something he really wants, but he’s not found it yet.

“Fuck, Barclay has to be a bro-breeder?” I say. “Dude! Get that guy on the phone and tell him to meet us at the bar. We gotta talk this through.”

Reeve looks more than a little relieved, even as he continues to blush attractively over the fact that Chuckie hasn’t taken his arm away from around his shoulders. “I think it’s a bad idea anyway, so I really appreciate it, man,” he says honestly, looking away – and incidentally at Chuckie’s fat cock, which has been drawing his eyes like he’s a cat with a laser.

He pulls out his phone while still eyefucking Chuckie’s prick, and mumbles his way through persuading Barclay to get over here – though he has to put the both of you on the phone in order to get him out from his texts. You while away the rest of the time jerking off the attractive waiter, Dumont, who’s a bit overwhelmed at the attention.

When Barclay shuffles through the door, you can’t help but compare him with the rest of your bros. Though he’s down to hang, he’s not focused on his own body in the same way as the rest of you – his cock sits at a pitiful six inches, with nuts barely larger than golf balls.

He slides into the booth without really looking up from his phone, which you can see is set to view some biochemistry PDF or something. This dude! Ugh.

“Hey, man, heard the bad news,” I say. Barclay’s got a good look, really, in the face at least. Where Reeve has more conventional looks, Barclay’s got that sort of dazed professor look complete with glasses and a scruffy beard. Since a teaching assistant is considered a service worker, he has the buckle saying SIX INCHES but it’s lost in his ratty cardigan. We probably wouldn’t even be friends if he didn’t love football as much as the rest of us – but once you get past his shell, he’s the truest bro in the world. I’ve only seen him cum once or twice – one time hands free, he was so excited by one of Wolcott’s goals – but when he does he is a sight to see, screaming and shaking and whimpering with pleasure. Adam and I have a bet to see if either one of us can get him into a dick-out routine, because if he ever bulked up we’re sure his blasts would be movie-worthy.

Barclay sits down, pushing his glasses up his nose. “What bad news?”

“You off to Poontown to spread your seed, man,” says Chuckie. “Our bro being a breeder.”

Barclay glances at Chuckie and scowls. Barclay doesn’t like Chuckie, but I’ve never been able to figure out why.

“This your sperm dripping on my knees, Reeve?” he asks his brother, who shrugs.

“Who cares about that, man? We’re talking about you leaving,” I say. “C’mon, dude, you’re smart as fuck – isn’t there a way that we can keep the population stable without resorting to – you know?”

“Oh, tons,” says Barclay, his eyes focusing and coming alive since we’re talking about science. “We could genetically modify men so that they can carry babies, or create artificial wombs that convert mixed sperm to new combinations of genes to make new people, or we could develop sperm delivery systems that are autonomous robots that carry sperm from the men over to the women. Or, there’s cloning, which has shown a lot of promise, not to mention –”

“Dude, however they do it,” I say, cutting him off because we all know he’ll keep talking until we all starve to death, “I wish they’d hurry. I don’t want my bro to go.”

“I’m afraid that it seems like the current estimates are, on the inside, about seventy to a hundred years. Even drone systems require adequate cooling, which naturally takes up more weight, so –”

~ Barclay adjusts his glasses, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps in thirty years? There have been breakthroughs on both sides, and we have tech-sharing agreements… perhaps their artificial wombs might combine with some of the clonetech that we’ve been tentatively testing on animals. It’s impossible to know how that would affect brains, though, so it’s an ethical nightmare. I hope to be one of those who’s on the forefront of making positions like breeders redundant –”

~ Barclay laughs, exuberant as you’ve ever seen him, glasses flashing in triumph. “That’s right! Nobody will ever have to go ever again – we could cut ties with women tomorrow, if we wanted to… which might be unwise, but still. Wombclones are a massive breakthrough, and it’s…” he trails off, blushing.

Reeve picks up. “It’s all thanks to my big bro,” he says, grinning. “Imagine! A guy who isn’t even hum-”

Barclay makes a sharp motion with his hand, and Reeve looks intensely guilty, curling in on himself. Chuckie glares at Barclay, though you can’t figure out what just happened. Isn’t this a time for celebration?

“Shots! We need shots!” I say to diffuse the situation.

“Alcohol or bro-juice?” asks Chuckie with a grin.

“Bro-juice all the way,” I say. “This place has the best jizz in the neighborhood.”

We order our shots with Dumont, telling him to make sure to bring us the best in the bar. He goes off like a shot, and in no time at all a new waiter is bringing us four cream-filled glasses. He’s a stocky beast of a man with a bull-sized slab of beef swaying between his thighs, dribbling the leftovers of our shots on the floor as he walks. He sets the glasses down in front of us and then, with a flourish, uses his cockhead to make tiny swirls on the top of each glass.

“All right, let’s fucking pound it,” I say when everyone’s been served. I lift up my glass and say, “To Barclay! Staying with his bros where he belongs, and saving the fucking world!”

We all clink glasses and down our cream. It goes down rich and thick and buttery – I wasn’t fucking lying about the quality of ball-juice in this place. “Fuck that’s good!” hollers Chuckie as he slams the glass he’s just finished slurping out back on the table. “I’ve got to talk to that waiter.”

Chuckie’s thinking of using his fame as a supergusher as a way to open up a jizz-themed restaurant, and he’s always on the prowl for new milkmen.

“I guess if he says no, our fucking bro Barclay here can clone him for you,” I laugh.

Chuckie’s looking at his shot glass like he’s wishing for a lot more. “You fuckers ever try jizz from the tap before? Like, seal your lips around a cock while it’s going off? Fucking whole different experience and taste, man.”

“Um – I guess, in private,” I say, thinking of a couple X-Files sessions with my buddy that got a little intense. “That was before your ball system, though, dude, so the taste was second to the – um, experience.”

“Fuck, can you imagine if I could have jizz on tap at my restaurant?” says Chuckie. “I’d be the most cutting-edge place in this whole fucking town. Dudes wouldn’t even need a menu, just go up to the staff and start sucking.”

“Wish you could, bro, but you’d never get it by the business bureau,” I say. “You probably should just be happy your dudes will be able to shoot in a glass. You’re not gonna see open cocksucking in society any time soon.”

There have been more than a few stories in recent months of busts happening: despite the fine line between jerking a guy off, drinking their cum and actually blowing them, it’s still there, and quite illegal to effectively solicit out in the open. Chuckie’s idea has been tried and viciously slapped down by the few remaining puritanical elements who cling onto any traces of ‘the old ways’, whatever the fuck that means –

~ There are a few places that let you suck the waiters off, but you have to then have them suck you off – otherwise it’s illegal. There have been a few bizarre sting operations you’ve read about that exploited that fact, but the matter remains that there’s no way of setting up a casual service restaurant like Chuckie dreams about without turning it into a whole production. Reeve laughs, though he looks speculative at the idea anyway –

~ “I’ll be your first customer,” Reeve offers eagerly, “So long as you come out as part of the floor staff every so often.”

Honestly, the kid’s so enamoured with Chuckie that it’s hilarious. But, well… blowjobs aren’t the taboo they once were, especially now that the old guard’s dying off: even though they oversaw intense liberalisations, they still had certain things they felt just weren’t acceptable – casual blowjobs being one of those things. The law that was passed last week fully legalising casual mouth-to-cock contact is a landmark case, especially given the newly youthful makeup of the highest courts.

You… haven’t seen your bros all together since it was passed, actually, and Reeve certainly hasn’t been in the loop. All you need is Adam and you’ll have the full set, and maybe… you could celebrate the law’s passing. Wouldn’t even need to go home to do it, now.

Chuckie’s particularly thrilled at the bill’s passage, having pushed with all his might to get it through; he’s got some weight given his fame… and you suspect he’s already filed planning permission documents. Just staff left, then…

“Dudes, let’s get Adam over here,” I say, pulling out my phone. “This might just be the best fucking week for all of us. He should get in on the action.” I text Adam to get his ass over to the bar, adding one of the new GIFs that’s flooded the internet since the passing of the law of various celebrities who’ve been caught on camera sucking or being sucked. The one I choose is Leon Drake, the dude who had to stop playing tennis because the tubing they invented to hold his enormous schlong against his stomach while he played kept breaking. The GIF shows him just as he’s spurting, grinning as the dude barely latched on the tip of his cock is deluged with several quarts of pumping cream.

Adam texts back right away that his ass is on its way and posts a GIF of a bare cartoon bottom, bouncing down the stairs. I sigh and wish he’d have sent a GIF of his own ass – he’s got one of those tight bubble butts that’s an inspiration. Too bad he’d never think of it.

~ Adam’s cartoon ass bounces hypnotically for a few seconds while you wish he wasn’t such an oblivious cocktease. Though you’ve jerked off with him and the rest of the group plenty of times, you’ve never been able to get him alone and do- things. You’re not sure what, precisely, you’d do, but you know you’d do something –

~ Adam’s GIF of Vincent Gutter’s face being pounded by three cocks at once makes you nearly choke as you look around, still instinctively furtive about oral stuff… before you relax, remembering that it’s fine- oral’s completely dandy, now. You could be displaying this on a big screen projector and it wouldn’t be a… well, it would be a big deal, because of the content of the extraordinary gif, but it wouldn’t be, like, illegal. Where does he even dig up these things? You suppose you should be thankful he’s not a complete exhibitionist, but Adam’s always been pretty open –

~ Adam’s GIF is, you realise almost instantly, his ass: it’s got the distinctive beauty mark high up on the beautifully curved surface of his left cheek, the two globs looking like beach balls as they bounce up and down on air. Thankfully he didn’t include, like, a dildo in the GIF, but… fuck, you kind of want to see what it would look like. Just out of intellectual curiosity, of course – you don’t consider yourself gay. Though the idea of Adam’s ass bouncing on your prick does intrigue.

Shit, man, I think to myself, imagining that bouncing hole. “I’m glad Barclay figured out the cloning thing and all, my dude,” I say to the handsome ring of faces around me. “But do you ever kind of miss – you know, fucking?”

They all sort of blinked at me.

“You know, like dudes used to with chicks,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Barclay is spared that and all, but don’t you ever kinda want to just – ya know, bury your cock in something hot and tight?”

“Who could fit, anymore?” says Chuckie. “Only dudes who could fuck without killing dudes are under-eighters like…” His voice dies off as he glances over at Barclay and me.

“Who wants another shot?” says Reeve, obviously wanting to help change the subject. I feel myself blush as I glance down at my just-okay crotch, wishing I’d done the work to show up my bros a little in the dick and balls department.

You shift a little, embarrassed at your seven inch cock. It’s only an inch larger than Barclay’s, and Reeve’s hand engulfs it with every one of his absent strokes while the tension burns between him and Chuckie. You’ve let your dick-training slip in a bad way, even though your days are –

~ Your 13" prick bobs a little as Reeve licks his hand in order to slick it up – though he’ll need to keep refreshing his impromptu lube, as he’s got a significant expanse of skin to cover…. although your apple-sized balls are generating a pretty nice coating of pre. You all look a little away from Barclay, as you feel a little embarrassed about putting him on the spot – he’s the only one who could plausibly top any of you, with his undersized dick –

~ Your orange-sized balls roil beneath the material of your trousers, below the shiny buckle that proudly proclaims that you have EIGHTEEN INCHES of throbbing cockmeat. Even though Reeve only has eyes for Chuckie, the two of them have been eagerly running their hands over your titanic shaft since you all sat down – and you suspect that the fact they keep ‘accidentally’ skating over one another is only a part of it. Still, you aren’t complaining – getting jacked off by your bros is always a welcome development, even if you’re a vector for flirtation.

“Mmph, that feels nice,” I say, while Reeve and Chuckie’s hand slick over my mammoth cock, feeling the hot oily sensation of pre dribbling down my enormous shaft. “But dudes, I’m serious. Don’t you ever wish we could just bury yourself balls deep in some sort of buddy hole? I mean, I wish that – I dunno, we could all fuck some way that wouldn’t, you know, destroy our guts or anything.”

“Fuck, you’re a wishful thinker tonight,” grins Chuckie. A second later, everyone cheers as Adam shows up, his hefty fat dick waving in the air in front of him.

You ogle it briefly, before your mind flashes to the GIF he sent you of his bouncing ass – giant cock just visible at the apex of his movement – and wonder if you’re just star-crossed; neither of you would ever be able to fit inside the other. It’s bittersweet as he grins at you; you both jerk each other off plenty, but you’re just not meant to be, clearly –

~ The sight of Adam’s huge wang (smaller than yours, but not by too much) bobbing as he crosses the restaurant’s threshold makes you think of the video he sent you last week, of him liberally greasing up a clenched fist before carefully embedding it in his hole. The caption –Thinking of you xoxoxo – made you extremely hopeful that he’ll eventually train to cope with your size… if your growth doesn’t outpace his efforts, that is. Still, you’re thankful as anything that guys can finger themselves to looseness that persists –

~ Adam’s cock makes your hole throb sharply as you eye it. Though you’ve been circling one another for some time, the fact of the matter is that you’re both just playing coy about who gets to top first. You know for a fact that Adam’s got a collection of dildos that’d make a himbo blush, and, well – it’s not like there’d be a logistical problem for either of you, given the flex and give that any guy’s hole has.

You’ve heard that things were once more complicated – foreplay for large cocks used to be a thing, even before cocks were truly ‘large’ – but… well. Reese says ‘aliens’, but you’re sure there’s a benign environmental explanation for why guys can accommodate outsize things up their holes. Probably has something to do with the magnetic poles, or something.

“C’mere, bro,” I say, grabbing Adam around the neck with my arm and pressing our foreheads together. “Missed you, you fucker.”

“Fuck, dude, can’t believe you started without me,” says Adam, brushing the top of my thick dong with his hand. “Been boned up all day, thinking about you.”

Adam’s bone is pretty awesome, but it’s not the part of his bro-body I’m thinking of. The thought of that clenching, stretchy ass around my pole is sending bolts of lighting from my cockhead to my balls. I wish –

“Fuck no,” I growl, practically into Adam’s mouth. “Not gonna waste my life wishing for what I want. I don’t fucking care that it’s not that polite to fuck in public. I’m taking what I want, right now.”

I grab Adam and shove him forcefully over the table, grinning at his delighted yelp as I yank down his shorts, exposing the object of my desire. A couple fingers determines he’s nice and slick – Adam’s always fucking slick up there, seems – so I aim my cockhead at his squeezing pucker and slam the whole length of my dick into his guts.

Adam’s yell is enough to get the attention of the whole bar, but I don’t fucking care – I’m already pistoning as hard as I can, feeling like I’m skewering the entire length of Adam’s hot tight body with every thrust. There’s a few bar dudes who look like they’re upset by me fucking my main dude on a table, but plenty of them are grinning too. It doesn’t fucking matter to me either way – I’m a fucking God right now and my cock wants what it wants.

Adam can’t pay attention to anybody’s reaction because he’s lost in the sensation of my fat fuckstick spearing into him, his eyes rolling back in his head while he whimpers and grunts at the pleasure I’m giving him. The nearest dude to Adam’s head is Barclay, and Adam is feverishly trying to fill his mouth with Barclay’s cock as he gets pounded from below. Barclay’s letting Adam suckle on his less-than-average donger, but he doesn’t look as into it as he should be, looking at his phone while Adam’s handsome lips slurp desperately at his dickhead.

“Shit, Barclay, don’t be an – unh – asshole,” I growl at him as I keep buttfucking Adam’s very willing hole. “I – unh – wish you’d find whatever – unh – you’re into and join your big-dicked balling bros, dude.”

Barclay rolls his eyes at you a little ungracefully as you watch the column of Adam’s throat swallow around his meagre rod; you can imagine that it feels just as good as his gyrating ass. In a way, Barclay’s nonplussedness is almost impressive – perhaps he really isn’t into fucking? – but it still rankles. The fact that you’re getting away with fucking in public is fantastic: that he’d squander such an opportunity is obscene

~ Barclay squirms a little as Adam sucks him off, his fingers still skating across his phone. Even though he’s been much more sex-positive as of late, all of his energies are focused towards Cooper, or whatever the fuck his German boyfriend’s name is. Klaus? Anyway, he’s been edging in marathon long-distance sessions, his dick finally edging beyond the eight inch mark… but he’s more distractible than ever, which is certainly saying something. It sucks to know that his attention is elsewhere – and now he’s distracting you from the fact that Adam is greasing your pole like he’s been doing it for years –

~ For all that you’re celebrating Barclay’s scientific prowess, you’d never know it to look at him. He’s a big-dicked, heavy-balled bro-type: his small melon-sized balls and twin fat footlongs rarely visible, if only because they’re embedded in Klaus’s eager mouth about 99% of the time. The waifish twink and your bro are a match made in heaven, if only because Barclay’s dominant side zeroed in on Klaus completely. They’re more than a little cute together.

Adam’s lucky as fuck that he persuaded Klaus to give one of the cocks over to his hungry mouth; usually, Klaus is… well. He doesn’t like to share his boyfriend’s loads at the best of times. But today’s a day of celebrations! And you know for a fact that Barclay would never bottom – he’s never an asshole, in any sense of the word – so… kinky blowjobs it is.

The intense feeling of Adam being squeezed like an accordion between Barclay’s and my enormous puds is beyond the ability of words to describe – the fucker between my legs is so hot and welcoming that even though his ass is familiar it never fails to make me jelly-legged. I wink at Barclay, glad that fucker Klaus isn’t around to get all territorial. Barclay deserves to be properly celebrated, just like the rest of us. Barclay sort of blinks at me winking at him – egghead still, despite his meathead appearance.

It’d be so hot to see the dude let go, just give in to every basic urge that I knew had to be pulsing in those veins wrapped around his stunning biceps. Do my bro a solid, get him to really unleash that high-IQ cum. Grunting with sudden inspiration, I pull Adam’s hips tight against my dick, burying myself full length into his grasping ass and making him howl around Barclay’s meat. Thanking my stars I didn’t need to worry about neglecting leg day, I use the power of my thrusts to jam Adam forward over and over – throat-fucking Barclay’s dick with Adam as my cock-impaled puppet. From the delighted groans rumbling beneath me I can tell Adam is really into the sudden loss of control as his widening throat is slammed again and again into Barclay’s pubes.

I catch Chuckie and Reeve jacking themselves as they watch us rabbit-fuck, their mouths hanging over. “Dudes!” I holler. “C’mon over and join us.”

“Fuck, you guys are doing great on your own,” says Chuckie.

“Always room for one more,” I pant.

“Nah,” said Chuckie again, and I suddenly remember he and Klaus have gotten into it before over his casual sucking and jacking Barclay from time to time. Nothing serious, just bros being bros, but Klaus wants to keep his man tightly locked down.

“Jesus, the drama,” I growl, flexing my titanic cock in Adam’s ass-grip. “I wish we didn’t have so much fucking jealousy between my bros, dudes.”

“And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” an unwelcome voice intrudes on your semi-bliss: Klaus has emerged from sucking Barclay’s other cock dry, right on time to take things in the worst possible way. Ugh, he’s going to be insufferable for the whole night, and probably take it out on Chuckie, knowing him –

~ “Don’t be selfish, Chuckie,” chides Klaus. “Help me suck my man off,” the power-bottom twink orders in a rather domineering fashion. You wouldn’t know he’s a complete bottom bitch, for all that he’s a natural at ordering your friend group around. It’s ruffled some feathers more than once, but at least there aren’t any jealous tiffs… even if Klaus is rather focused on pleasing Barclay –

~ Rather than saying anything, Klaus just pulls his jockstrap down a bit, exposing his greedy hole for Chuckie to plough. Vacillation abruptly over, Chuckie scootches over next to you and replicates what you’re doing with Adam: throatfucking Barclay with another guy as the intermediary. It’s blisteringly hot, and only made all the more sizzlingly so when Reeve places his large, slender hands on Barclay’s backside and presses the tip of his – presumably his dick, though it’s rather flexible – dick against the scientist’s fluttering hole.

He sinks in with a relieved, wanton moan, which the rest of you lustily take up. Cameras are up across the diner, though just as many people have turned back to their food: seeing famous fuckers fucking just isn’t as unique a sight as it once was. Frankly, you’re grateful for that.

“Holy shit, dude,” I growl, grinding my massive column of cockflesh in Adam’s tight, obscenely-stretched hole. “Here it fucking comes, my bro. Oh my—oh my fucking God.” My toes are curling, it feels so good, and I give Adam one more slam, pressing his face so far into Barclay’s crotch I wonder, briefly, if I broke his nose. But then I’m too far gone to care as gallons of hot, white, delicious cream explodes from my dick, so hard and fast that hot sprays of cum spurt around where my dick lodges into Adam’s ass like the failing joints of a sinking submarine, and then the pressure is too much and my dick explodes backwards out of Adam’s ass, still fountaining the white goop everywhere—over Adam’s beautiful ass and back, across the bar table, over the grinning faces of my bros.

“Jesus!” manages Barclay at the same time, grabbing Adam’s head as his cock dumps his own steamy pints down Adam’s greedy throat. Adam is lucky Barclay’s holding on to him because he’s dropping nervelessly to the floor after being filled to the brim by my supergusher cock, his own cock belching thick milk all over the floor as he whimpers helplessly. Reeve, balls-deep in his own brother, moans as the scientist’s ass grips him in the throes of his own cum and pretty soon he’s practically climbing his bro’s back like a monkey as Barclay’s ass claims spurt after spurt of brother-spunk. Meanwhile, Chuckie’s got Klaus by the hair and is slamming him so hard the table is shaking.

“How the fuck are you still going, dude?” I grin at him.

“It’s the tantric sex,” pants Chuckie, still plowing away. “I—only—cum—when—I—WANT—TO!” And apparently he wanted to, because just as that moment Chuckie pulls back and shot forward with his dick like it was a fucking cannon, and I kid you not but Klaus goes fucking flying over the bar table riding an arc of Chuckie’s cum, clearing it by more than five inches. Fortunately, one of the passing waiters had an eye on the action and is there to catch Klaus as easily as a football pass, folding him into his arms and causing Barclay’s boyfriend to spasm and unload his own pent-up spunk all over the waiter’s front the minute his dick rubbed against the fabric.

“Dudes,” I say, panting. “Dudes.” Hot cum is dripping off every surface, and the faces of my grinning, exhausted bros are all smeared with it.

The bar owner comes over to our table, looking at the drippy mess, our spent dicks, and the way that Chuckie and Reeve were already moving in the direction of Act II of the evening.

“Gentlemen,” he says with a smile, “We’re grateful for your patronage. The next round is on me.”


The next morning I pull myself out of the huge bro-bed we’d shared since—when? Seems like forever.

“Mmm—where are you going?” asks Barclay, reluctantly pulling away from sucking on Adam’s cock.

“I gotta do something, dude,” I say. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

I head into the study area of the apartment, pull a bit of paper from a random notebook and hunt down an envelope. Sitting down at my desk, I write:

“Congratulations, Kevin! I hope this will lead to as much joy for you as it did for me. Only the people who hear will remember what things were like. Be careful, but have fun.”

I address the envelope to Kevin Harker, and fill out an address that comes to me like an inspiration, even though I don’t know a Kevin Harker and have never been to Iowa, which is where his address is. But everything I’m doing feels right, like it’s something I have to do. After I put the letter in the envelope, I stare at it for a moment.

Huh—there’s a ring on my finger. When did I start wearing rings? It doesn’t look like it belongs, somehow. Maybe Kevin, whoever he is, would like it more than I do. I pull it off my hand and drop it in the envelope along with the letter.

“Where are you going, man?” shouts Chuckie from the bedroom as I walk to the door.

“Gotta run to the post office,” I say. “Don’t freak out, dudes, I’ll be right back to screw you.”

“Fuck yeah,” comes a chorus of my bro’s voices. I grin. Life is fucking sweet. Tucking the letter under my arm, I open up the door and step out into the world.

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