Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Freaky Thangs	By : Beaverhausen13 Category: 1 through F > Friday the 13th: The Series Views: 584 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Friday the 13th or these guys and I do not get paid. The End.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
          The second greatest cockblocker on Planet Earth is Micki’s sister Evelyn. Not intentionally, of course, because she happens to be encouragingly supportive of Micki’s and my relationship, but ever since her divorce, she moved into town from L.A. with her son J.B. and has proceeded to take advantage in dumping him on us for weekend visits, generally with no contact number and no warning.
          Last night ended up being a bust. DeJager must have got an early start with her victim, because by the time I got there, the poor girl was already transformed into stone sculpture and the culprit had ghosted out of the building with no trail to follow. Goddammit. I was so fucking close I could taste it.
          I really hate having to activate Plan B and enlist Micki in my quest, but I’m determined to get this fucking shard in the vault where it belongs. Seeing as DeJager only ‘sculpts’ women, Micki is a sure thing for a modeling candidate. It’s doubtful that the lesbian is going to refuse Micki as a model. Her artful beauty is undeniable. Micki agrees to help me in my task, we’re on our way out the door to DeJager’s art showing, and of course, there’s J.B. on the other side of the door and Evelyn’s already beat feet off with her latest male distraction.
          God fucking dammit.
          Fuck.
          Fuckety-fuck-fuck-fuck.
          We are so close to paradise, and now are facing at *least* another two day setback.
          I can’t help it; I’m unable to hide my frustration, which makes Micki a bit annoyed that I’m acting this way toward her nephew. She knows why I’m feeling this way, though, and talks me down while J.B. hangs out in the entry at Curious Goods.
          Poor kid.
          Dealing with his parent’s divorce, a move to an entirely new city, and a mother that’s indulging in far too much selfishness at the moment…it’s no wonder he takes to fantastic embellishment half the time. I empathize with the kid, but, as any good adult figure would, I’m not trying to encourage those flights of fancy for his own good. That shit leads to trouble, and J.B. already has enough to worry about.
          Of course, I come off *way* harsher than I’m meaning to because of my sexually frustrated borderline insanity. Then Micki busts out my last period distraction; the bike that Jack and I just restored in an attempt to keep him entertained while we bait our trap of the shard at the art gallery. J.B. starts in on one of his fairy tales and I have to bite my tongue and remember that he’s not in a place where he can really help it. I try not to take it personally when he slams the bike that Jack and I worked so hard to fix up, but I get it, in a way. It’s no BMX, so not very thrilling to your average child of the ‘80s.
          Micki gives him a key and I shove him off on the bike toward the direction of the neighborhood park. Fuck me sideways. The timing of this couldn’t be worse. Beyond my own selfish thinking, it’s sort of dangerous being a Curious Goods houseguest. Our last guest was Micki’s former college roomie, Linda, who ended up being murdered by the same mad scientist wielder of the cursed syringe that had turned my loving girlfriend into a murderous monster. Proximity to cursed objects has proven safe for no one, especially children.
          It’s not like Micki can lay down that explanation to Evelyn, though. Evie would laugh in our faces and order us to quit pulling her leg. Still, we have to find *some* way to lessen these forced babysitting sessions, if at the very least for his own safety.
          I’m not trying to resent the kid for being yet another hurdle on the path to my dick’s happiness. The irritation just resounds through every part of me, though, and I’m too far gone in my dry spell to control my behavior the way I would like.
          Questing has always done a good job at pulling my focus, and Micki and I’s bait trap of DeJager is a success, as I knew it would be. I mean, have you *seen* Micki? Any artist would be off their nut to not want to use her as a model. She’s pinnacle exquisite. I’m a tidge nervous about something going wrong. The last thing I want to do is endanger Micki intentionally. Unlike DeJager’s other model/victims, however, Micki’s aware of the cursed object danger, and is already a thousand times safer than those other women due to that knowledge.
          Still, I double check with her when we get home and make our way up to the Goods Lair. As we’re discussing dinner plans before we have to meet up with DeJager at 9:00 tonight and complete our recovery, J.B. comes charging in talking excitedly about ghosts or some such. I cut off his elaborations when I ask him about my bike, and when his face falls and he says that it was stolen, I am practically overcome with my exasperation. I play it off as cool as I can, but can’t help but say something about the danger of his tall tales, and soon enough he’s storming upstairs and mumbling about no one believing him. Expressing my frustration to Micki just causes her to be pissed with my attitude toward all of this, and soon she’s following behind J.B. and I’m trying my damndest not to feel like King Asshole.
          I’m fucking livid about the bike. Jack and I worked our asses off on that thing together and had a pretty fun time doing it, too. It was a great distraction from the last dry spell, completed right before Flo left town and portending her incoming lickable waterfalls. The bike was physical proof that I can get through to the other glorious, delicious side of eight days o’ aching. I feel the same about the objects I’ve focused on and vaulted during the other ones. It’s a combo sense of pride and completion that signifies good days are upon me again.
          J.B. rides it around the neighborhood for a few hours and it’s stolen in a snap. Fuck. Me. I call in the theft to the police department, all the while wondering if the boy is actually *that* gullible, or just has the worst luck in the world.
          It hits me after I hang up the phone with John Law that Micki’s probably still pissed at me. Shit, I feel awful. There’s a special sort of hurt that happens when Micki is mad at me. I am desperately not trying to take it out on J.B. I know none of it is his fault. It just sucks that my functions are all twisted from left field from this dry spell insanity.
          Shamed like no tomorrow at my snarly nature, I lope apologetically into the kitchenette and find Micki showered and changed, gleaming in a little spaghetti strap v neck black tank and black pants. The apron she has over her get up aids to her current domestic sexiness as she busies herself with topping off the rest of the casserole she’s preparing and popping it in the oven.
          There’s a tender wistfulness that comes over me when I think of her in a mothering sort of role. Micki has always been wonderful with children. Maybe someday, when we’re done with our current obligation…
          Micki turns after closing the oven door and faces me, her eyes still a little on the miffed side until she sees the apology in mine, and noticeably softens.
          “I am so, so sorry.” My voice is low and pleading, “Is J.B. around? I’d really like to apologize.” I ask her.
          Micki quickly skirts the kitchen table and rushes into my arms, granting me a warmly forgiving hug and topping it off with a tingly kiss before responding, “He’s hiding in our room. Looks like we’re taking the cot this weekend.”
          “I’m not averse to the close cuddle sleeping, so okay by me.” I answer her, running a thumb on her cheek and stealing a slow, sweet kiss.
          Yeah, we held on to the cot. It’s always good to have extra sleeping areas when the surprise guests pop up. We’d snag Jack’s bed, but he’d kill us if he found out. The man’s been living with us being a couple for four months now. We still subdue ourselves to a point, but he’d have to be blind to not bear witness to our intensity. Jack is an intuitive man all around. He’d know if we used his bed, we wouldn’t be able to go without having sex.
          So Jack’s bed is off limits and Micki and I are usually relegated to my old cot, instead, when guests come a’ visitin’ to Curious Goods.
          Micki pulls her mouth from mine, giving me a loving, meltingly beautiful smile, “Dinner should be ready in a half hour.”
          “Great. We’ll have just enough time to eat before we’re off to get our latest into the vault. I feel like I’ll definitely breathe a little better when we’re able to safely tuck that shard away.” I say to Micki as I pull away from her to approach the French doors. “J.B.? You don’t have to respond, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry for getting heavy on you about my bike. I know you didn’t *ask* for it to get stolen. So yeah. Just wanted to say that I apologize for taking my anger out on you. You didn’t deserve it.” Still crickets on the other side of the doors. “Okay. Good talk.” I conclude awkwardly and move away from the chilly silence and back into the refuge of my lady love’s welcoming arms.
          “I love you so much for trying.” Micki tells me in a half-whisper as her lips graze my cheek in our embrace, “My heart just breaks for how lonely and lost he is.”
          “Mine too, honestly. It hits a little too close to home, full disclosure. Divorce is not an easy thing for a boy of that age to deal with. I know that well. Mother abandonment? I know that one, too. And I’ve got a lot of love for Evelyn. Most of the time, she’s all around good people. But the way she’s treating J.B. since she moved to town makes me see red. I don’t like being pissed at her for this, but I am fucking pissed at her. J.B. needs a mom more than ever right now.” I finish my low whispered diatribe to her attack on my lips with a sympathetic, loving kiss that warms my insides.
          “My heart breaks for you both.” She whispers into my lips, before going deeper with the love translated therein.
          Yes, Micki is one of the most visually gorgeous creatures to ever grace the firmament, but the thing that really triggered my head over heels love and worship of her is how big and beautiful her heart is. The way she cares genuinely and how kind she is for a woman of her beauty was the catalyst that had me falling for her very hard and without warning. I never discount the miracle that she loves me back. I pinch myself every day in my gratitude, delighted in the confirmation that this is my new, happy reality. “I know I go into overkill with how much I express it, but I just love you so fucking much. The measurements haven’t even been discovered yet.” I tell her, pulling my body a little back from hers to cool the temptation.
          “Well, you’re in luck, because I will never, ever get tired of you telling me that. As I will never tire of letting you know how much I love and adore you back.” Micki tells me, filling my chest with warm fuzzies.
          Yeah, we’re gooshy, but it feels good. Facing tragedy all the time, we’ll take what we can get. I can’t help but celebrate the gift that is us, together.
          Micki calls for dinner and we still get radio silence from J.B., but being on a time crunch, stuff our faces quickly and start gathering our things to leave. She’s finally able to make contact with him with a knock and kind request for entry. She has a little talk with him, letting him know we’re going out for a little while, and soon she and I are piled into the Curse Hearse and laying in on the cursed object grind.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Freaky Thangs