It's who I am and it's what I am.Sure, the official designation is 'Tracker', but, to my mind, a tracker simply follows things. A hunter, on the other...hand, follows things, then kills them.They use me, or one of the others like me, when some deviant with paranormal abilities has crossed the magic line between salvageable and disposable. Trackers, with our chemically and electrically altered brains and abilities, are their attack dogs. They decide the general area some evil mind fucking bastard. His mom had brought plenty of food, but she had been stern about alcoholic beverages since he was still medicated. His father had said nothing, just nodding gravely. Aron’s mom had also sent food for an entire army, but it was basically just the kind of food to feed a sick person, and not someone paying a social call.With a shrug, he took out the beer bottle, and then he began scouting the cabinets for some chips. He could still vaguely recall buying some at a discount. Were they expired? No,. All the people were between eighteen and thirty, though mostly tending towards the young side of that, and were seemingly pretty frisky, and flirtatious. There were a lot of pheromones flying about the place, plenty of prancing by stag-like males and countless flashes of skimpy underwear from giggling females. "Hey Mr DJ!" By the time eleven o'clock was beginning to draw near, he noticed a fair number of girls looking at him, too, and his stomach seemed to catch fire with nervous curiosity -. Lucky and Mary were now taking it in turns to kiss the now eager Deepak as he slid his fingers, rather expertly, I thought, in and out of their wet cunt’s. They were both leaning on his shoulders for support and Lucky was gasping and moaning her way towards an obvious orgasm. Now completely topless, Monica had brought a chair over and had allowed Deepak to sit down while he fingered the two girls. Both had now let their panties slide to the floor and I could see the contrast between Lucky’s.