Page 60 of Brock’s Mate

“Oh, fuck.” Brock tried to jump out of bed. “Ow,” he muttered, grabbing his ribs, and then, “Fucking fucktards.”

Desi bit her lip.

Brock started for the balcony door, face like thunder, but was diverted by a sound from the living area of the suite. The hall door opening.

They both swiveled in that direction, and Desi backed up so she could see what was coming.

In through the doorway came a parade of dicks. Walking dicks, more or less life-sized. Mostly more. Under their balls they had little feet like those plastic wind-up toys, and they marched in two by two.

Wearing brightly-colored condoms.

Which were playing music.

The tinny strains of “Just the Way You Are” filled the living room. Brock seemed transfixed, staring.

The dicks marched faster, and the music switched to “In Too Deep.” As soon as she recognized the song, Desi started giggling. Then, suddenly, they all went silent at once. The bugle call “Charge” rang out.

All the dicks started jumping up and down, playing the Lone Ranger theme, like galloping horses. By this time, Desi was leaning against the wall, laughing helplessly.

Brock stomped out through the living room, kicking the odd dancing dildo out of his way, and into the hallway.

He came back inside dragging one of the twins, shirtless and holding a controller in his hands. The evil twin was yelling, “Stop! Help! Save me!” And then, “Dammit, they didn’t even get to the cannons yet!”

He moved something on the controller before he dropped it. The dildoes started jumping even faster, and the final section of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture rang out from their condoms. With cannon blasts.

Daah da da da da da da dun dun DUN. Boom! A blast of glitter filled the air as a condom exploded. Daah da da da da da da dun dun DUN. Boom!

Desi couldn’t even move, she was laughing so hard. She didn’t worry about the twin’s pleas for help; he was barely even fighting. He obviously knew Brock wasn’t serious.

Brock dragged him all the way out onto the balcony, cursing the whole way. He heaved the twin up, wincing at the strain on his ribs.

Holy shit. He wasn’t going to—

He did.

He fucking threw him off the balcony. Three stories up.

Desi raced outside, dodging the duckie drone and a couple of blimps, and leaned over the railing. The twin was dropping like a stone, waving his arms and yelling. About three-quarters of the way down his body rippled and Changed, wings sprouting from his shoulders, and he turned into a huge snowy owl, gliding away across the lawn.

“Well, shit,” Desi said. “You scared me there for a minute.”

“Fucking Remy,” Brock said, shaking his head.

“It wasn’t just him,” Desi said. “There’s about six people in the hallway, laughing their asses off.”

“And filming,” Brock said. “And Colt’s in the yard, driving the blimps.” She looked down and sure enough, there was the other twin with his own controller. He waved. Titan was there too, with the Asian woman who’d been flirting with him in the bar—his mate, it had turned out. She appeared to be driving the duckie drone.

She flew it over behind Brock, and the ninja duckie tapped the back of his head. He batted at it, but he missed and she flew it away, laughing maniacally.

Brock glanced upward. “Incoming,” he said. He took Desi’s arm and pulled her back, just as a shadow flew overhead and a big owl crap splattered on the balcony railing.

“Damn,” Brock said, looking at it in awe. “I could swear he doesn’t crap for a week before he pulls a prank. Just saves it up.”

Desi said, “Soooo… he gets thrown off balconies a lot?”

“All the time,” Brock said. “Usually by Titan, but the rest of us do what we can.”

They cleaned up as best they could before going down to breakfast. The crew helped; Jaeda even brought in the vacuum and tried to get the glitter out of the carpet.