"Yes. Just telling Martin McCormick isn't enough. I wantthe whole world to know. This will send a lesson to all of those sickbastards like McCormick."..."I don't know...maybe we're going too far." David shook his head. "Trust me, we're in the right. If the police haddone their job and caught McCormick sooner then none of this would benecessary." Bryan nodded. "I suppose you're right." "Don't worry about this place either. I've arranged for it to bedismantled." Bryan smiled. "Good." . Her touch did nothing to diminish my erection. "So, I guess... I don't know. Do we call last night a mistake? Just blame it on the alcohol, and forget it?" "We could," Kris agreed. "That would probably be the best thing." "Uh huh." Though neither of us acknowledged it, I was vividly aware that her hand began to creep towards my cock. I made no effort to stop it. "Last night was fun, though," Kris said. She set her coffee on the end table, and scooted closer to me. Her fingers now reached. There was pressure against her lips, her throat, her chest, down to her belly and an unexpected place between her legs. She had no idea if it was intentional – or even if any capacity for intention remained in Victor while in this form – but her panties were uncomfortably pressed against her pussy as an external entity applied force there.“Oh—” She gasped, stepping back. But the plasma followed her, maintaining contact. Agnes squirmed under the at once soft and unyielding force. The rubbing. Still, others said that the sellers had built themselves a nice little para-military who raided farms, ranches, and towns. The scene was eerily similar to what they told us about back in school. Slave auctions of the 1850s and 60s. The auctioneers would only deal in gold, which they would provide through exchanges on either side of the stage. For sale at the moment was a young boy, he must have been 16 or 17. “This young lad is well built for labor. Throw him out in the fields and he’ll grow.