A Cozy & Cheerful Ballbusting & Cbusting Social Network
Chapter 37
I waved bye as mom and Lizzie pulled away.
As soon as the door closed, I slammed my back against the door, sliding down and rubbing my stomach.
They both partnered up all week to “help me practice”—they thought hopping off steps would help keep them in shape too! That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, but my abs were extremely glad to be rid of them for a few days.
After locking the door and double-checking they were gone, I made my way into the freezer. I snatched the bag of peas and rubbed it against my abs. To be honest, the peas did work better than anything else, and the little balls helped make it feel like a massage.
My stomach grumbled as I whipped open the fridge—no eggs. How the hell did mom expect me to survive over the weekend without food?
I slammed the fridge door and saw a folded piece of yellow float down and hit my sleeping bag:
‘Call Coach Breaker if you need any broken eggs in the morning. Love, mom.’
I flipped it sideways and stared at Coach Baker’s number.
No. I should just use this weekend to relax and recover. Calling her would just bring serious trouble. Although… she might be able to hold this bag of peas in place for me just like—
No. That’s just crazy.
I opened the refrigerator and stared inside. There was some leftover chicken, and I knew there was some rice in the closet. How hard could rice be? All you have to do is just boil some water.
I used one hand to knock open the upper cabinets, trying to reach up high and find where mom hid the damn pans. The bag of peas got knocked out of my hands a few times, so I just kicked it across the room, slamming my toe into the stove.
I cursed, then gave the stove a death glare as my toe throbbed in pain.
After hobbling over and placing the peas on my foot, I saw one of the bottom cabinets open—must’ve been from my awesome kick. The handle of mom’s pan was poking out—of course it would be there, I’ve seen her cook with it a thousand times, I just never paid much attention.
I dragged my foot over, being very careful not to lose the bag of peas, and pulled on the pan. It was stuck on something. Giving it a strong tug, the handle launched into my abs. Groaning as I tossed the pan onto the stove, I bent over and ripped the peas off the floor.
I glared at the pan. My stomach grumbled, so I smushed the bag against it. Cooking was going to be impossible to do one-handed. And then it hit me.
Diving into Lizzie’s room, I swiped her black belt and tied it around my stomach to hold the peas in place. I tested a few of my hardest kicks against her pillow, imagining it was her face. It worked perfectly, the peas barely even budged.
I unleashed a few more moves into her pillow, launching it down the steps, then kicked it as hard as I could into the couch as I ran back to the stove.
I felt the awesome black-belt power surging through me as I flicked mom’s towel over my shoulder. No challenge can stop me now.
Everything was going better and faster—the water boiled, the chicken peeled off the bone, the rice cooked, everything mixed together and smelled perfectly! I even added every piece of chicken in the fridge and sprinkled in a few dashes of salt and pepper to change things up.
After making myself a plate, I headed straight for the couch and plopped down, using Lizzie’s pillow as my own personal foot-pillow. I grinned as I reached for the remote, and smashed my feet in harder—maybe I would have to use it at the bottom of the steps later for some training.
The TV turned on with the best commercial of all time! I put on the biggest smile as I recited every single word.
This just couldn’t get any better!
The plate looked and smelled spectacular—I don’t believe I ever smelled anything so good before. I picked up a forkful and admired it, then bit down and…
I chewed a little and…
I chewed some more and…
And then I…
I spit it out. It tasted like glue that was stored in mom’s socks for a month. Honestly, it probably tasted even worse than Lizzie’s gym socks!
My stomach growled louder than ever as I shoved the plate to the other side of the table.
I pulled Coach Baker’s card out of my pocket and stared at the number. Maybe it wouldn’t be so—
The back door opened.
Perfect timing. I didn’t even have to call!
“I’m in here!”
No response, but I heard some bags shuffling.
“How many eggs did you bring?” I rolled off the couch and walked towards the kitchen. “Just ignore the toxic waste on the—”
Rebecca placed a box of fried chicken on the table.
“What are you—”
“Aren’t you home alone?”
I nodded. “But how did you—”
“Do you want this?” She glided over to me and grabbed my crotch. “I could always bring it back.”
My mouth wouldn’t work properly as I stared at the chicken.
She squeezed slightly as she tugged on the black belt. “So I’m taking that as a yes?”
I nodded as she pulled it—the peas crashed to the floor.
“What are these for?” She leaned down and picked it up. “Did you get hurt?”
“I hit my—”
Rebecca slammed it into my groin. “Say no more. I’ll take care of that for you.”
I crouched over slightly and watched her tighten the belt around my crotch, keeping the peas in place.
“There, all better.” She grabbed my hand and pushed me into my chair, then closed the back door and sat across from me. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
My mouth watered as I reached for some chicken, then felt a cold rush as her foot pushed the peas in.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?”
“Thank you.” I placed a few pieces on my plate. “You won’t believe it, but I actually tried to cook someth—”
She pressed in hard. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“I said I was—” She twisted her heel. “… trying to eat some—”
“Eggs?” She pressed harder and smirked.
“No, there’s none left.” I reached down, trying to pry her foot out, but she stomped.
“Get those hands away from my feet and eat your meal!”
“But I can’t—”
“Shut up.”
I decided to listen and bit the first piece of chicken. It tasted so, absolutely, amazing.
“Good boy.” She scrunched her toes against the peas, then ground down slightly. “You love to do anything I say, don’t you?”
I tried to close my legs slightly and continue eating.
“We’re going to have the best weekend.”
She stomped her second foot into my crotch as hard as she could.
“It’ll be just me, you, and these two!”
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