charlotte berserk

“Well, I can’t judge. I’ve done far worse for far less. Still, I can’t imagine Lupin would approve, nor will Cyrilo or any other beastman in the country. Slavery is already a foundation of Uther, and add the vitriol Galvin has been spewing, and it’ll put an even bigger target on their backs, and they won’t like it. I imagine that’s what concerns you, when things inevitably go south and blood spills. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of my earlier warning.”“No, you don’t. I made your objections clear.”

A black and white photo accompanied the eerie description and was just as unnerving. She wasn't a wax reconstruction or even a corpse like most in the ViCAP database. Sat straight up, staring ahead at absolutely nothing at all, a living missing person was on display.

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.