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“I’m not fucking 400 men,” Millie stated and considered stamping her feet in emphasis. “Well, at least not all at once.”

Greg stood up beside her. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m scared they would.” Millie glanced up at him before returning her gaze forward. “This is week 400 of Wicked Wednesday, you know. They want to do something big. I’m sure it was considered.”

“Maybe considered it, I’ll give you that. However, he’d just write consent into the story and you’d really not have a choice.”

Her mouth opened for a moment before words came. “That’s true. Not like we have free will here.”

Tony stood up from the bed and stood on the opposite side of Millie from Greg. He squinted his eyes forward to see if he could find what they were looking at. “What are we protesting today?”

Greg rolled his eyes. “The writer changed your name again.”

“Yeah, big one on running jokes that aren’t very funny, so no surprise.” Tony shrugged. “There are many worse things that could be happening.”

“Yeah, like my having to fuck 400 guys.”

“Not gonna happen,” Greg said and glanced around behind him. “Where’s Vanessa?” His movement left his penis swaying between his legs after the rest of him stopped moving.

“Who?” Millie and Tony asked together.

“The girl that suddenly appeared in the last chapter of this shitty writing.”

“I don’t remember a Vanessa,” Tony said and stroked his chin as if hoping that would help his memory come back.

“You don’t even notice when your name changes, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember.” Millie glanced back at Greg. “She left. Said she was having some sort of existential crisis knowing she was a fictional character and decided to move to British Columbia to find herself.”

Greg clucked his tongue. “British Columbia? That’s pretty specific.”

“Yeah, something about some resort in the Kootenays,” Millie continued.

“Oh shit.” The blood drained from Greg’s face.

“What?” Tony looked over.

Greg couldn’t tell if Tony’s look was concern or confusion; maybe both. “That’s Skelly Manor. That means the writer is crossing series again and dragging out the old guns.”

Millie gasped. “He wouldn’t!”

“Would what? What am I missing?” Tony asked.

The three turned to look at the bed.

On the bed, a gorgeous redhead was astride a muscular man. The man looked scared, confused, and tired. The woman looked like her orgasm was about to explode.

“I’ve only heard the stories,” Greg said, “but I think this is Gray.”

“Help me!” the man on the bed whimpered.

The redhead screamed in orgasm, continuing to thrust her hips down on him until the orgasmic flow stopped. She smiled down at him.

Greg looked past the bed to see a line of naked, gorgeous women snaking away into the darkness.

“I thought it would be fun, so I agreed to it,” the man on the bed croaked. “You know, a reverse gangbang for me with 400 women.”

The redhead dismounted, stepped off the bed, and then vanished as if caught in a Star Trek transporter.

Greg chuckled. “Writer just got the random Star Trek reference out of the way.”

“So this isn’t fun?” Millie asked Gray.

“At least with Viagara, I could go to the hospital after four hours. The writer said I wouldn’t get to climax and would stay hard until the very last woman was finished.” He sighed. “I’ve been here two hours already, and that was only number seven.”

“Batter up!” a voluptuous blonde cried as she climbed onto the bed and mounted Gray.

Tony giggled. “Serves him right for consenting without thinking about it.”

Millie and Greg shot him a glance.

“Women don’t cum as fast as men, usually.” He waved a hand at the line. “This is gonna take a while.”

“Please,” Gray whimpered again and reached an open hand out to the three. “Help me.”

The blonde grabbed his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

“So what do we do now?” Greg asked.

“We can’t help him,” Millie pointed out. “The writer would get upset if we intervened.”

“Likely,” Tony agreed. “I don’t think I could watch for too long before I’d be terribly bored.”

“I know we could lie on the bed and help him with the women, cutting his time down by a third. I mean Tony and I,” Greg said as he looked at Millie. “But I still don’t think I’d enjoy fucking a hundred and thirty-one women in one sitting.”

“Good math!” Tony praised. “Me neither. I get regret after four when I think I didn’t pay enough attention to someone.”

Millie raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that what he means.”

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Number Eight released Gray’s hand and reached behind her to use his knees for leverage.

“So what do we do?” Greg asked.

“For one thing, we should do this.” Millie produced two clothespins.

“Where the fuck did you get those?” Greg asked.

“Here,” Millie said, handing one to Tony. “You go around the bed and put it on his right nipple.” She reached down and opened her clothespin. “Excuse me,” she said to the blonde before closing the pin on Gray’s left nipple.

“Ow!”Gray screamed and glared at her. He repeated the gesture as Tony did the other nipple.

“This is completely gratuitous and unneeded. The writer is only doing it to get back on Kink of the Week as well,” Greg stated. “I like it.”

Tony pointed down at Gray. “He should just be thankful the theme there wasn’t industrial clamps or he’d be a mess.”

“And now, we end it here, I guess.” Millie shrugged and stood back up. “If Monty Python could end a sketch that ran out of steam before the punchline, why can’t we end a story…um…”

Tony nodded. “Mid orgy.”

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