With a resigned sigh that sends a jiggle through the twin mounds pushing outward under your sweatshirt, you decide that you've learned you lesson about rushing blindly into situations you don't fully understand. If you want to get back to normal—or at least avoid making things any worse—you're going to have to act a little less impulsively from now on. Therefore, eager as you are to return to your male body, you'll take the time to observe these so-called 'cultists' before making any rash decisions.
Predictably, exercising such caution turns out to be maddeningly uneventful; particularly compared with the frantic pace of the outlandish morning. For hours you sit staring silently at the machine shop, the monotony broken only by the painful pinching of Penelope's bra and your useless attempts to adjust it. The sun has almost disappeared over the horizon when, finally, something catches your eye. Sinking back in your chair to avoid notice, you watch with rapt attention as the cultists begin to file out of the machine shop.
They aren't exactly what you'd expected. They aren't wearing blood-red robes or mysterious cowls. They don't seem to be carrying any twisted daggers or mystical staffs. There is, in fact, nothing especially sinister about them at all. While they are dressed in stereotypically Gothic fashions, it's nothing more extreme or authentic than what you see people wearing at school. There are five of them, three guys and two girls. One by one they circle around the back of the building and one by one they emerge behind the wheel of surprisingly expensive automobiles. As you watch, the five luxury vehicles circle around on the overgrown grass in front of the machine shop and make their way onto the street, the single-file procession obviously headed downtown.
Quickly, your hand jumps to the ignition, but then you pause. You could follow the cultists, hopefully finally getting a chance to observe them as you'd planned, but you could also stay here and scope out their lair. You have to choose quickly—their tail lights are rapidly disappearing—but you may learn as much by snooping around here as you would by following them.
Copyright 2000 - 2025 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 1.06 seconds at 6:46am on May 08, 2025 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author