The Birkeland Estate
The weather outside was practically perfect. Muggy, swampy, and so sticky it felt like the air was literally glued to the boys’ skin. Of course, this weather to any other human being would be miserable, but for the four biology students all shoved into a compact utility vehicle, it was ideal.
“See that?” Ches remarked, giddy as a child as he watched his window fog up. “This has to be prime for mating season!”
“Let’s hope so!” Troy agreed, his tone sharing a similar sense of excitement.
“Just imagine the orchestra of frogs tonight,” Mac dreamed.
“It’ll be beautiful alright,” Donald began to imagine the scene himself. “How much longer ‘til we’re there, Ches?”
“Google says we’re a mile out.” Ches then flashed his phone to the back seat, displaying just how close they were to their destination. He then graced a hand through his thin, coppery hair, wiping away the lightest of sweat droplets. Although Ches Molten was a junior in college, he certainly didn’t look the part. With his 5’8 stick-like figure, lighter tenor voice, and hairless body, he physically resembled a tween fresh out of middle school. Yet an entirely different story was told above the neckline, for the receding hairline, sizeable nose, and numerous beginnings of wrinkles made Ches’ headshot read him as a man approaching 35. His physical features never bothered him however, as he was more focused on his life-long passion--riverbed herpetology.
“I still can’t believe that we found a place on such short notice,” Troy said to no one in particular. Noticeably taller than Ches at 6’1, Troy Whipple had a fairly decent build. As a competitive swimmer in high school, he’d created for himself a toned build which he’d luckily carried over to college. Nowadays, he wasn’t involved in the sport, but he found that a proper diet was rather important. Troy had even studied the practice immensely, as it acted as a major component to his biology degree. It had unsurprisingly led the college first-year having clear skin, a lengthy blond mane, and an overall healthier glow. Besides his physical attributes, he was also fairly intelligent, respectful, and easily frightened.
“I don’t think we could’ve picked a better place to stay,” Mac added as they continued down the twisting dirt road. “I just hope the house is as clean on the inside as the pictures showed it to be.”
“Just ‘cause it’s owned by a frat guy doesn’t mean it’ll be gross,” Donald tried to reassure his twin brother. “And it was listed on Airbnb, who are probably the most reliable people in the business.”
Mac Adams and Donald Lowell weren’t identical, but obviously fraternal twins. Their similar baby-like cheeks, light blue eyes, and button noses were obvious, while their raven hair, freckled skin, and heights similar to Ches also made them appear more than just related. Their different surnames were the result of their mothers, who decided that each twin would just have one name instead of a hyphenated variety. Their first names on the other hand had come from the location of their mothers’ first date. They fit into the group as the environmental studies majors, both fascinated by the habitats localized to them.
Their conversation suddenly ceased as the house pulled into view. It was massive, somewhere just below the definition of a palace. Designed in a modernized Greek style like most of the plantation-era homes in the area, the place had a marvelously shocking sparkle to it. Besides the three floors, gallery of windows, and the giant lawn, the house also had a behemoth of a porch that spread out around the entire edge. As the crew pulled into a parking spot, they watched as a taller man swung open the front door and made his way to greet them.
“Hello! Welcome to the Birkeland Estate!” The man waved his arms around, his voice low and accented in a preposterously mellifluous fashion.
The four dropped their bags to look over the man quickly. He was gifted genetically with thick hair, a strong figure, a perfect 6’2 height, and piercing gray eyes. It appeared he was also gifted financially as well, for his outfit looked as if it had jumped straight out of a Brooks Brothers catalogue. Even his watch appeared to be more expensive than the car the team had driven here in. Although Troy could tell this man was going to be annoyingly preppy, bossy, and arrogant, he also found the man annoyingly handsome. As the token gay guy in the group, Troy was the only person chubbing up in his jeans as the Ivy League student approached them.
“My name is David Percival Birkeland Jr., and I’ll be your host for your stay.” David’s pitch was flirting with bass, robust and pronounced. “I will indicate to you each where you will reside.” Immediately, the suited man began walking towards the monstrous house, giving off no sense of regard if the others had followed behind him. In response to the rapid movement, the four quickly snatched their bags and hurried along.
David gave them a dreadfully long and colorless tour of the entire mansion, explaining the histories behind every painting, sculpture, art piece, and detail of the home. He also listed countless rules about when they could use the bathroom and when they were allowed to eat. At first, the party was honestly interested, but at some point it became too hard to keep up with the Birkeland legacy. What made the tour even more miserable was that David never seemed to take notice of his exasperated and disinterested group, dragging them along through each floor. Finally, they descended down the grand staircase one last time to a hallway that the crew hadn’t noticed before.
“Four bedrooms, four residents,” David announced in his character-like voice. It sounded ridiculous to Ches, Mac, and Donald’s ears, but it made Troy’s dick hard as a rock. “You may establish preferences amongst yourselves.” And with that, David disappeared completely from their sight, leaving the four to organize their belongings. They eagerly popped their heads into each of the rooms, eager to see that they were just as lavishly decorated as the rest of the estate.
“This place is stunning,” Mac announced as he lugged a suitcase into his room.
“And for the price too, it’s pretty insane,” Ches agreed. “Our host however?”
“‘Establish preferences’,” Donald tried to replicate the deep, sophisticated tone they’d all heard earlier. “What an Ivy snob.”
“Yeah, I loved how he used the word ‘amongst’,” Troy added, although the other boys didn’t catch the double meaning.
“Does anybody remember when breakfast was going to be served tomorrow morning?” Ches questioned as he tossed the last bag into his suite.
“We get meals with this place too?” Donald’s voice displayed a high level of shock, forgetting that part of the tour.
“I thought he told us that?” Ches shouted back.
“I heard it,” Mac shrugged.
“Funny how the college wouldn’t sponsor our project,” Troy started a new topic. “and yet the four of us could still pull enough together to be treated as kings.”
“It’s almost as if someone’s watching out for us,” Ches replied. “But I’m exhausted, so I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.” With that said, Ches’s door swiftly swung shut.
“Goodnight!” The other three called out in unison before also closing their doors.
— —
“Finally!” Troy huffed, hauling the last of the equipment out before unbuttoning the top of his ratty blue polo. To their excitement, they had discovered that the Birkeland Estate owned a large quantity of riverbed property: just the kind of environment they were hoping to study. Luckily, this meant that the group didn’t have to drive out into the wilderness, but unluckily, that also meant they’d have to take all of their machinery by foot. It was only two trips, but the half-mile hike carrying awkwardly-shaped bags and crates took a lot out of the boys. The fact they’d also missed breakfast hadn’t made things any better either.
“Alright, that’s everything, right?” Ches heaved, bent over with his hands on his knees. His black tee didn’t show any sweat stains, but his bright red sweatpants showcasing their university’s name did.
“I think so…” Donald sighed before stretching, displaying two wet patches hidden underneath the arms of his green long-sleeve. “Ugh, I’m starving.”
“So am I,” Mac stated. Unlike the others, his blue shirt and cargo shorts showed no sign of physical exertion. “Who would’ve expected breakfast to be at 6:45 sharp?”
“Yeah, who would’ve.” Troy sounded defeated, his tone a lot quieter than the rumble that escaped his stomach following his words. The other boys’ stomachs began to play similar melodies in response.
“Let’s just get to work and hope we can hold out until lunch,” Ches mumbled.
“And that’s at?”
“One.”
“Oh dear Lord.”
The four immediately proceeded to gathering samples, writing data, and typing numerous variables into their laptops. The majority of their project focused on field work; studying the different minerals located inside the riverbed dirt and comparing it to other local ecosystems. It wasn’t fascinating work to the average human being, but it was academic cocaine for the boys. The crew was addicted to the topic, interested in every specific facet and detail that could affect the organisms in the area. Unfortunately as the saying goes, it was hard to work on an empty stomach. About an hour later, they heard the same grumbling music as before.
“Can we take a break?” Donald fell back into his folding chair. “I’m completely winded.”
“I can agree to that,” Mac moaned as he copied his twin. Ches shifted his gaze to Troy, noticing he too already seemed pretty exhausted.
“Alright, this is enough,” Ches crossed his arms. “This is dumb! I’ll just go grab some snacks from the kitchen pantry and I’ll bring them back.”
“Ches, you can’t,” Troy countered, acting as the crew’s adamant rule-follower. “That was one of David’s rules: we can only eat at meal times.”
“Then I’ll just grab the car and go to a grocery store.”
“Don’t do that, dude,” Mac groaned. “That’s a massive waste of gas--just go with the original plan.”
“Yeah, just be careful,” Donald agreed. “The worst that could happen is a bad Airbnb review, right?” Seeing the vote was two to one, Ches nodded and steered his way back to the Birkeland Estate. The remaining three watched until Ches’ head dissolved into the thicket of the forest.
“Should we get back to work?” Troy offered. In silent agreement, the twins continued their previous tasks. The sun watched along as it climbed up into the sky, slowly but surely edging itself past the thick branches of the trees surrounding them. The humidity wasn’t as bad as the day before, and luckily a weak breeze had brought the temperature down to a more comfortable heat. The three continued at various jobs until Troy let loose a joyous hoorah.
“What?” Mac grinned eagerly.
“You won’t believe the amount of calcium in this soil!” Troy shouted, his fists clenched. “Comparing it to the iron and zinc from previous locations we’ve studied, the land we’re on is some of the most fertile we’ve ever recorded.”
“And for all the people that don’t understand the significance?” Mac inquired.
“Basically, the ground here is so healthy that it can support any form of plant life, even if it isn’t a member of the ecosystem.”
“Interesting,” Mac said. “Would that make it more susceptible to invasive species then?”
“I would assume so…” Troy thoughtfully replied. “Let me eat my cake before you spoil it.”
“Of course,” Mac surrendered.
“Speaking of food,” Donald spoke up. “shouldn’t Ches be back by now?” The three collectively looked at their devices, noticing that in minutes it would be an hour since Ches had left.
“I’ll try and call him.” Mac dialed Ches’s number and clicked on the speakerphone option. It took a few rings before the call actually began.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Mac began casually. “Where are you? We got work to do.”
“And I thought you were bringing us snacks?” Donald added along with a grumble from his stomach.
“My apologies, gentlemen.” The voice that responded back was thick with the same pompous attitude David had displayed to them before.
“Why are you talking like that?” Troy blinked, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop himself.
“I have been lounging with our host and must have neglected that we were discussing businesses at such a leisurely pace.” The first question was answered, but the second was ignored. “David courteously elucidated me about my improper behavior, so no refreshments will be cultivated ‘till one.”
Mac, Donald, and Troy all exchanged looks of pure bewilderment with each other before continuing.
“Ches, I don’t know what’s up, but I’ll be over there in 10.” Mac then ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
“Wait, what?” Troy asked, a lurking amount of fear popping up in his voice.
“Dude, calm down,” Donald rationed as Mac got up. “This is obviously a prank.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Mac stated. “We all know Ches--he’s just playing us.” Before the three could come to a unanimous consensus, Mac had already started the trek back to the estate.
“Doesn’t something seem kind of off here?” Troy protested. “Sure Ches had an accent, but that didn’t sound anything like his voice!”
“That’s the whole point of an accent, genius,” Donald remarked.
“That’s not what I meant,” Troy shot back. “It sounded like it was almost an octave below David’s, which would put his tone deeper than any man I’ve ever heard before.”
“Again, stop worrying about it, Mac’ll deal with it.” Donald began to resume his work before adding. “And hopefully he’ll be bringing some food back too.”
“Ugh, you’re probably right.” Troy grabbed his notepad once more and continued to work, losing himself to the equations in moments. The two sat in almost complete silence, with only the chirps of cicadas, scratchings of pencils, and clicking of laptop keys keeping things lively. The soft trail of wind that had existed before had also unfortunately disappeared, cranking the heat of the forest up a few degrees. But even with the environment around them slowly awakening for the day, the pair diligently remained absorbed in their work. The data they were gathering came in slowly partially due to the jobs at hand, but mostly because they were missing half of their crew. It wasn’t until another hour had passed that they actually looked up from their notes.
“Now do you wanna be concerned with me?” Troy’s frightened eyes spoke more than his words.
“Dude, just take a deep breath,” Donald chuckled, although it lacked any actual lightheartedness. He too was a little creeped out, but he wasn’t going to admit it. Plus, the last thing he needed to do was get Troy more worked up than he already was. “This is all obviously a big joke because they know you’re a huge scaredy-cat.”
“That’s probably true,” Troy blew out an angry puff of air.
“So why don’t we turn the tables on them?”
“What?”
“Yeah!” Donald’s sudden excitement surprised Troy. “Why don’t we just ignore them. We continue working through lunch and all the way to dinner. The easiest way to shut down a prank is to not engage.”
Troy thought it over before nodding. “That seems like it could work.”
“And I don’t know about you, but I’m still starving,” Donald exaggerated his hunger by rubbing his stomach. “So I’ll go grab the car and buy some snacks.”
“Doesn’t Ches have the keys?”
Donald pointed over to Ches’ bag, motioning to the lanyard hanging outside of an open pocket.
“I’ll be back in 20 minutes tops.” Donald then snatched the keys before exiting back the way the other two had gone. Troy felt his nerves begin to resurface, but immediately extinguished them by diving back into his data. He put together multiple equations, further compared soils to previous exhibits, and was even able to gather a few samples of droppings nearby by local creatures--but nothing was enough to distract him completely. With one eye always on his watch, he waited patiently until the digits read 12:30. Then, as if acting out an alarm, he began to panic.
“It’s fine, Troy.” With no one there to reassure him, he had to rationalize the situation with himself. “Donald is probably just in on the whole thing. All you have to do is make your way back for lunch.”
Unconvinced but just barely determined enough, Troy pushed himself up from his seat and began treading towards the estate. He mumbled to himself back and forth about how stupid he was, but he never stopped moving forward. It wasn’t too long of a walk back, but every step felt like an hour had gone by. The pressure Troy had created for himself along with the crashing cacophonies of cicadas and the rising heat were really getting to Troy’s head, but as soon as he spotted the mansion however, all his thoughts began to disappear. He told himself he was fine, that he was overreacting, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. That’s at least what he thought however until he stepped onto the porch and noticed the three frattish men engaged in merry conversation.
“Gentlemen, it appears our final colleague has arrived.”
Troy watched anxiously as they each turned their heads to face him. All three were strong and athletic, but not bulky. Troy could make out the sharp cleavage made by their pecs and calves in each of their outfits. They all shared the same clean-cut good looks and short hairstyles, causing an erection to slowly inflate in Troy’s cargo shorts. He told himself the men were probably friends of David’s, but for some reason he felt an odd familiarity with the trio.
“Have any of you seen a group of three men about my age?” Troy asked up front, hoping he didn’t have to speak with this group for too long. Not only was he worried they’d be able to see his boner, but he felt a strange, sudden feeling of submission towards the crew.
“Sorely, I must inform you we have yet to make their acquaintance.” The man’s voice seemed bottomless; it was deeper than any Troy had heard before. Troy could’ve sworn a tiny smile crept onto the corners of the first man’s mouth, but his face returned to its sculpted indifference immediately. “Speaking of, I am Clifford Werner Marfont III. My grandfather is addressed as Clifford, and Father identifies as Werner, so therefore I go by Cliff.”
Troy gave a quick nod to signal he’d comprehended all of the information although he actually hadn’t remembered the majority of it. Even though Cliff was sitting down in a rocking chair, Troy could tell the man had to be at least a few inches over 6’. Troy could basically smell the money coming off of the man based off of his outfit. The pair of bright red chinos and black pullover embroidered with a symbol Troy didn’t recognize screamed old money. Even his beautifully styled swept hair, chiseled chin, and chocolatey eyes told an entire story about an untouched trust fund. These factors also made Troy weak at the knees, although he assumed this man was as arrogant and snobby as David.
“My name is Brock Archer-Lottway,” started the man sitting on the far rail. “And to my port side is my twin brother, Brecken Archer-Lottway.”
“My pleasure.” Brecken introduced himself as if it was an honor for Troy to meet him. And unfortunately to Troy, it was. The two of them were also devilishly handsome with tousled, short hair; sharp, accentuated jaws; and plump, kissable lips. Their voices shared the same silky flavor and baritone depth. They both even shared the same height as Cliff and, by the positions the three were all sitting in, Troy estimated they also shared the same bloated package size. Although the twins appeared similar on so many fronts, Troy was able to distinguish a few differences. Brock adorned a lavish blue shirt while Brecken’s had an interesting evergreen plaid to it. Their shoes also differed as Brock had gone for an expensive pair of buck oxfords and Brecken had settled with loafers. Brecken also had a bit of natural scruff, but Brock had settled for something more clean-shaven. All in all, Troy felt it was becoming harder to contain himself with every passing moment. He hadn’t felt this horny since his sexual awakening back in middle school.
“In the instance you were inquiring about our peculiar names,” Brock clarified. “they were our grandmother’s maiden names.”
“A fitting tribute, wouldn’t you agree?” Brecken added. Troy cocked his head to the side, slightly lost. He hadn’t in fact been ‘inquiring’ about anything--he had just assumed they were just another set of classic, but preppy, names.
“And you are?” Cliff moved the conversation along.
“Oh...uh Troy. Troy Whi-”
“Is that Troy I heed?” David announced as he stepped onto the porch.
“Indeed,” Brock affirmed. “He was offering to glom more beverages for us.” Before Troy could argue the comment made or even comprehend that the men had been drinking before lunch, the conversation moved on.
“My apologies, but I will be withdrawing him for the time being,” David placed a firm hand on Troy’s shoulder before leading him around the mansion on the porch.
“That is just nifty, brother,” Ches responded. “I wanted to show the twins the docks anyway.”
“Perfect. Luncheon in a quarter!” Without questioning David’s actions, Troy allowed the taller, stronger male to guide him around the porch to the other side of the house, well out of earshot of the other men. The two immediately took a seat on the steps, with David sitting dangerously close to Troy. Troy felt the other man’s breath brush up against his skin, and he also noticed that the other man was clutching a football tight to his chest.
“Troy,” David said. “Before you state anything, I have something to ask you.”
Troy looked on wordlessly as David positioned the football to balance on his knee. David then placed a finger on the other end and began to twirl the object, spinning it slowly at first, but then moving it along faster. Troy watched on in pure fascination as the outside world quickly disappeared from his view. Suddenly, all he could see was the revolving motion of the football.
“Do you feel a loss for your colleagues?”
David’s voice echoed through Troy’s emptying head, battering at the sides of his skull relentlessly. It took him a moment to process what the man had said, but once he did, he nodded slowly.
“Could you not agree however that I have substantially improved them?”
Troy didn’t understand the question at first, but after a bit it hit him. That was why Cliff, Brock, and Brecken had felt so familiar. Because of this realization, Troy didn’t respond to the question, his fear finally working for him rather than against.
“Do not try to comprehend the question with that childish intellect,” David cooed before navigating a hand over to Troy’s rock-hard dick. “This is where the answer should come from.”
Troy bucked his hips into David’s hands, moaning as the prepster softly stroked him on.
“Again, could you not agree however that I have substantially improved your friends?”
“...yes,” Troy choked out.
“Are they not better as Kappa Sigma Alpha men?”
“Yes,” Troy’s answer was a little more confident this time.
“And would you care to become one just like them?”
“Yes!” Troy gasped. David chuckled in response. He scooted closer to Troy before dropping the football, knowing all his power was now in the other hand.
“Now that is a proper response,” David purred. “There are not many times where I find a man with your taste, but I will say I do enjoy it.”
Troy didn’t understand what David was rambling on about, so he just listened.
“Homosexuals tend to appreciate the process much more than the rest of society, so I am fortunate that you will be my final of the day.”
Troy gave a goofy smile.
“Now Troy, first things first, your title no longer exists. You’ll now address yourself as...hmm…” David dazed off into space before an eager smile passed his face. “Teague Wildingham.”
Troy felt an urgent disdain at the remark at first, but after a violent tug from David, Teague felt nothing but pride.
“I must say you stand at an admirable height, Teague,” David started. “But ‘tis not becoming of the man I must make you to be. 5’9 appeals much finer to me.”
“No, that’s not right,” Teague dizzly protested. “I’m 6’1! I’m not short.”
“I’d argue that 5’9 is not short--it is average.”
“I’d argue it’s short,” Teague snapped back. “They would’ve never let me swim in high school.”
Teague’s view line changed as his legs and torso lost some of their length. He suddenly felt more compact and maybe a bit wider, like he’d been pressed down under someone’s thumb. Kind of stout, but that wasn’t what truly bothered Teague. He just wished he had longer legs.
“That was unequivocally an improvement,” David smiled, who now had to just barely lean over to meet Teague’s eyes. “But you’ve now addressed the issue of your voice. It needs some refinement.”
Teague suddenly felt an urge to gulp. After doing so, he noticed the newly-added weight of a prominent Adam’s apple.
“So swimming was a pastime in school. Any others?”
“Just swimming,” Teague announced in a deeper, yet silkier tone.
“Ah, well no more of that boys’ play,” David remarked. “You never struck me as the swimming type anyway, Teague. I would imagine swimming is somewhat difficult with your build.”
Teague considered the statement for a moment.
“You demand something more pressing of a man. Ever competed in rowing?”
“No.”
“That surprises me, since you are close friends with Clifford, you must have attended many regattas with him. And that sport is your preferred leisure activity.”
The words came out like a metronome, even-paced and simple. Teague accepted them as reality in a matter of moments. He could now easily recollect memories of him and Cliff training together.
“Fortunately, your figure is already adequately constructed, but I do believe your upper arms could use a rare dose of tissue.”
Teague’s biceps and triceps bulked up inside his short sleeves. His palms also became larger and rough mitts. He found himself rationalizing that it was due to his constant practice with a paddle.
“Also, wider extremities will help you maintain your grip on the deck.”
Teague’s shoes expanded along with his feet, growing meatier as they pushed against the boards of the porch. Teague discovered new memories of himself having to buy special shoes for his extra-wide Size 13 feet.
“You are already naturally glabrescent in respect to the paramount areas, but your natural musk is unnoticeable. It will have to become more pronounced.”
A faint body odor began to penetrate Teague’s nose. It had notes of sweat, leather, and sandalwood. He smelled like country clubs and sweater vests.
“Speaking of pronunciation, your outfit is hideous. A Kappa Sigma always appears refined.”
With that cue, Teague’s polo blew up and out as it surged into a full button-up. Plaid stripes eagerly spread themselves across the fabric while the buttons at the top of Teague’s shirt multiplied as they migrated south. The ends of his sleeves pointed all the way out to his wrists before naturally folding in. A small thread then stitched itself in along Teague’s left breast, creating the shape of a whale.
With the upper half completed, the bottom got to work. Teague’s socks and extra pockets disappeared as a lavish belt swung itself through the belt loops. The khaki color of the shorts was drained away to make room for a deep sea blue. Even his boxers shrunk up, morphing into a pair of designer briefs. Their plaid color switched to a bright, white fabric that comfortably held his body from the tip-top of thighs to just below the belly button. Once that was completed, his tennis shoes took on a much sturdier material, becoming a pair of posh boat shoes. Finally, a watch that Teague now knew had been bestowed upon him by his grandfather wrapped around his left wrist.
“Your coiffure is healthful, but not proper. A styled ivy league ought to do.”
The once overgrown mane tied into a bun was neatly cut in an instant to shorter sides and a back tapered across the crown. Teague’s hair fluffed up on the top and grew a little messy; a style that was obviously not natural but made to look so. His hair also darkened from a vanilla shade to something more similar to cinnamon, causing the rest of his body hair to take on similar hues.
“There are the little details of personal maintenance that you will have to acquire.”
Teeth whitened, nails polished, and eyebrows plucked themselves. Teague even began reciting the slogan of his favorite grooming brand Tradman: “Perfect grooming makes perfect men!”
“And of course, a package upgrade,” David chuckled, Teague’s 5-inch hard dick still in hand. “Kappa Sigma Alpha is always seeking new recruits.”
Teague suddenly felt a heavy weight added to his private area. For some reason, he felt as if he used to be embarrassed about his prominent moose knuckle and 8-inch schlong, but that sensation was quickly fleeting.
Throughout all of his commands, David’s hand had been delicately working at Teague’s cock. It was perfect for distracting Teague by edging him forward, but never enough to get the other man to the finish line. Now that they were getting close however, David began to stroke a little faster and harder.
“We are almost there, Teague,” David crooned into Teague’s ear. “Just a smidgen left.”
Teague only responded with a moan.
“If you are to mature into a Kappa Sigma, you will have to re-identify yourself with new temperaments.”
Teague arched his head back in agony, his face painfully scrunched from David’s malicious teasing.
“Once you acknowledge every word, I will let you experience the release you desire. Understand?”
All Teague was able to do was nod, which was enough for David to continue.
“Polished.”
Nod.
“Conventional.”
Nod.
“Affluent.”
Nod.
“Self-Assured.”
Nod.
“Traditional.”
Nod.
“Classic.”
Nod.
David smirked as he gave Teague one final, vicious tug.
“Perfectly preppy.”
Teague felt an immediate sense of alleviation wash over him, but he was surprised to not feel any actual dampness in the area. Looking down, he also couldn’t spot a single stain.
“What are you inquisitive about, brother?” David asked.
“I…” Teague started. “I cannot remember.”
“Than it must have not been imperative,” David rationalized. “Anyway, I am going to head in for luncheon. Would you mind terribly if I requested you to gather the other men? They should be out by the docks.”
