Oak brings me back in and, with my go-ahead, explains that I have PTSD, and that he believes, based on the operational notes from my rescue that what I experienced was a flashback. An actual memory, not a hallucination.
“Is the PTSD new?” I ask.
“No…” Oakley answers, looking to Hedy.
She shrugs. “We’ve all got PTSD.”
Everyone kinda snorts like it’s no big deal, but Oakley’s mouth tightens. He won’t contradict Hedy in front of the others, but over the last month, he’s admitted that he’s navigating a tricky situation with her. She’s got decades of operational experience that he respects, and he’s got the clinical chops that she respects.
Next gen problems, I guess.
“If the black-eyed baby thing was a flashback, does that mean we need to be on the lookout for an army of little Silases?” Mav asks.
Hedy turns to Mav. “The operation you just came from was strictly about human trafficking, specifically setting up a baby mill,” she answers.
I have a similar question. “To Mav’s point, if that was a flashback, have I seen a baby like me at some point?”
Oakley shakes his head. “The flashback was probably a memory of your experience of being approached by adults who were terrified of you.”
Hedy addresses the rest of the team. “As for the genetics lab Silas came from, we could find no evidence that any other baby survived the experimentation on them. Our Silas is one of a kind.”
She never mentions the fact that there were other labs. Ican’t ever tell if that’s on purpose, if she forgot, or if those labs simply failed at their missions and aren’t worth mentioning.
Still, I flush at Hedy’s description of me. “One of a kind” is often a recipe for a lonely existence. I’m pretty lucky with the people in my life.
Point in fact, as I look around the room, I’m expecting fear. Instead, I see sadness. I hate that my history makes them sad. I’ve worked with some of these guys for years, and they’ve always had my back.
“It’s okay, y’all. Edison and Ant and Erik really took care of me and helped me become who I was always meant to be. I’ll be all right.”
The team gets up—even Holmes—and engulfs me in a group hug.
Score. Cupcake also gets in on the action.
Oakley grabs my hand. “Time to go home.”
In the car, I cover Cupcake’s ears as Oakley tells me that he’s going to need me to clean myself out extra good for what he’s got planned.
Oakley’s fingered me, sounded me, filled me with his cum. Now I’m draped over a sex wedge, my ass in the air while my wrists and ankles are tied to the four corners of the bed.
My balls ache from coming so hard, but my cock is ready to go again.
He spreads my cheeks. I’m leaking, and he reaches for the lube.
Why more lube? I’m already so full of his cum and stretched and?—
Oh.
Fuck.
A fat fake cockhead is pushed past the ring of muscle. Slick, irregular. Pretty sure that’s the big teal-and-blue one. The dragon dildo he bought me from that fantasy sex shop.
Ungh. That’s a thick swell.
Fuck, another.
Definitely the dragon one. It stretches me, so perfectly painful. He plays at first, slowly pulling it out and pushing it back in. The bumpy, rubbery, wet sounds are deliciously dirty.
The fucker is taking his sweet time.
