Chapter 59 Weird.

Chapter 59: 59 Weird.

"Perfect." I gave him my address and ended the call. Pretty fucking productive for a call under two minutes.

When I looked up, both girls were watching me with raised eyebrows.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"You’ve certainly accepted your fate lately," Elsa observed with a smirk. "No more kicking and screaming about your destiny, I see?"

"I don’t recall ever kicking and screaming," I defended myself. "Anyway, yeah, I figure it’s not likely I’ll be able to get anything started before Juniper graces us with her presence, but these days I spend way too much time on my ass, so I might as well be productive."

"I wish Juniper would arrive so I could spend some more time on my back," Elsa sighed forlornly as her womb tattoo pulsed crimson.

It started a chain reaction when Ayra saw it, or maybe heard what she said, and her design lit up as well.

"Your tattoos are doing the thing again," I pointed out, arching a brow. "I think we might want to get you girls some cold showers or something because I’m just one man."

Based on our previous conversations, I had a pretty good idea that Juniper’s arrival would mark some sort of sexual milestone for all of us.

They’d mentioned waiting for her arrival before I could have penetrative sex with them, and though I wasn’t sure just why that was the case, I assumed there was some reasoning behind it.

I was already getting my dong milked pretty frequently so it’s not like I was in a hurry to break some hymens.

Ew. That sounded gross.

"Wilkinson will be here in an hour," I said, changing the subject. "Maybe you two should stay inside when he arrives. The fewer questions about cute beret-wearing dog-girls and elven princesses too pretty to exist, the better."

They agreed reluctantly.

"Master is possessive of my figure. He wishes not to let other men see the lewdness of my body, lest their hearts yearn to release inside of my sweet, girly flower."

Her voice took on a dramatically dark tone after that, and she closed her eyes, hand over her heart. "Oh, but my Master is too cruel and brutal to let any other man have me. He has claimed my body for himself completely, making me dream of only him, though I loathe him so."

She peeked one eye open. "I’m not serious, Master, I like you very much."

"Right, I know," I replied in a monotone as I kept browsing.

Wilkinson turned out to be a hairy, well-tanned man with a salt-and-pepper beard and weathered hands.

He gave me a handshake that I once would have considered firm before taking on demigod proportions myself. In fact, I specifically wore baggy clothes to hide how ripped I was.

I didn’t take him inside. Instead, I led him directly to the silo. He circled it slowly, tapping walls and examining the foundation with experienced eyes.

"Solid enough construction," he noted approvingly. "We could patch a few spots but honestly it’s not necessary. These old concrete silos were built to last. What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Something unconventional," I explained, gesturing with my hands. "I’d need a very large cellar entrance integrated into the grass that leads to a tunnel that goes inside, and instead of stairs leading from one level to the next, I was thinking of a spiraling ramp system."

He raised an eyebrow. "A ramp? Like for wheelchairs?"

"Something like that," I hedged. "Accessibility is important." I did not mention, of course, that the reason was because the woman this was being designed for had no legs.

Wilkinson pulled out a measuring tape and started taking dimensions. "Multiple floors?"

"At least four, I think. We could probably swing five. With large, open spaces."

He jotted notes in a small pad. "Plumbing? Electrical? You considered that? Utilities and such are kind of a big deal on a secondary residence."

"That’s the other thing," I said, glancing toward the fields. "I’ve already got permits for solar and a rainwater collection system that I never followed through on.

I’d like to finally make that happen—get this place off-grid as much as possible."

Wilkinson nodded slowly. "Less attention from utility companies, fewer questions."

"Exactly."

He tucked his notepad away and fixed me with a hard stare. "Look, I’ve done a few off-books jobs for cash over the years. I don’t ask questions if you’ve got the money and can keep your mouth shut, but I’ve got my limits. So I’m just gonna ask straight out—you running something illegal here? Meth lab, maybe?"

I met his gaze steadily. "Nothing like that. We just value our privacy out here."

His eyes flicked to the farmhouse, then back to me. "Fair enough. Soonest I could start would be next month. I’d be doing the work myself—no crew for off-books jobs. Probably best if I do the indoor work at night to lower the chance of someone poking around and seeing my truck."

"That works," I agreed, extending my hand. "Though... we have a regular midnight activity around these parts that we’ll have to work around. Anyway, I’ve got a rundown barn where you can park your truck, too. And take your time. It gives me time to finalize the details anyway. I’m still learning about the individual who’ll be living here and her specific needs."

"Her," he repeated with a knowing nod-and-smirk combo. "Got it." He shook my hand firmly. "I’ll draw up some preliminary plans and a quote."

After Wilkinson left, I returned to the house to find both of my girls curled up asleep on the couch. Ayra was snoring softly, and her ears were twitching with her dreams. Elsa was stirring, though, grinding her knees together like she was uncomfortable—but when I saw the womb tattoo do its thing, I figured out why and left her alone.

The sight of them resting peacefully made me smile.

For all their bickering, they looked adorable together—a matched set of otherworldly beauties that I was lucky to have in my life. I was lucky to have a lot of the shit currently in my life, though.

Rather than wake them, I quietly made my way upstairs. The unexpected moment of solitude was a rare gift these days, for reasons that should be obvious.

I stretched out on my bed, mindful of my healing tattoo, and let my eyes drift closed. "Finally," I groaned, feeling my muscles relax. "A minute to myself."

The bed felt bigger without their bodies pressed against mine. Quieter without Ayra’s panting and licking and Elsa’s midnight mumbling.

For the first time since they arrived, I had the time and space to stretch out and get some undisturbed rest.

I expected it to be a relief, but as I inched toward REM sleep, I found myself missing their warmth, their scents, even the hypnotic way Ayra’s tail started pounding the mattress whenever one of my muscles twitched.

This quiet felt empty rather than peaceful.

"Weird," I murmured to the empty room. "When did I get so used to them?"

And with that thought, I slept alone for what I hoped would be the last time in a very long while.