Dealing With Monkey Business

DINGDONG!

Brock’s shoulders dropped as he let out a long groan that slowly began to grow in volume as the seconds passed.

Gretta frowned. “Maybe one of the kids will-”

DINGDONG!

“They won’t.” Brock grumbled, quickly stepping towards the half-empty hamper of clothes in the corner to fish out and slip on a pair of blue-and-white-checkered pajama pants. “Lazy little shits.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your-”

DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONG!

“Christ!" Brock shouted in anger as he stormed out of his room. "Hang on, I’m coming!”

In a sober rage, Brock was standing at the front door and swinging it open within moments, only to find that the person ringing his doorbell at ten-o-clock in the evening was, in fact, not a person.

Instead, on his doorstep, sat a small brown spider-monkey who was wearing a tiny red hat with a golden “E” in the center, while also holding something shiny under his adorable arm.

Before Brock could even mumble a confused response, he let out a yelp as the little guy quickly dashed forward, climbed up the leg of his slacks and suit jacket, then shimmied along his right arm to slide on the golden ring it’d been tightly gripping onto the middle finger of Brock's right hand.

After that was done, the monkey screeched and jumped off of his extended hand out through the doorway, never to be seen again after running away down the sidewalk.

Brock blinked in confusion, wondering what the hell had just happened to him as he gazed at his now ringed fist. With a furrowed brow and a mind spinning with questions, he brought his closed hand closer and opened it up for a small folded-up note to mysteriously appear before him in his palm. Brock looked at it, then at the ring, and he slowly began to remember the strange conversation he had with that sexy-sounding (and obviously goth) woman he accidentally called when driving home. She’d said something about selling him a ring that could compel people to do stuff, or something. He tried to recall what exactly she had told him as he opened up the note, also wondering if she was able to get any funds out of that old credit card he’d found on the floor of a restaurant several weeks back. He’d never used it himself, but thought that he may one day find it useful in an odd circumstance, like buying a magic ring that could fulfill one’s deepest desires without accidentally ruining his own credit if, or when, it turned out to be a scam.

“The King’s Ring:

Whomever has this band secured around their finger may never remove it physically.

Its effects cannot be activated while outdoors.

Its Wearer has complete and total authority over everything and everyone in the building They currently occupy, but its reach does not extend beyond the borders of that boundary.

Reality kneels to the King’s proclamations, and all will find themselves dutifully honest around Their Grace.

Although, the Liege must be wary of Their own words, for any question asked may grant Their vassal an opportunity to ascend.”

“Out of the way, dad! It’s time to tear up the town! Woo!” Ophilia cheered, walking down the hallway with her arms wrapped around the necks of her two giggling and also drunk friends.

When she had been sitting behind the table, Brock noticed that his daughter had been wearing a top that he really wasn’t comfortable with seeing her go out in public with, but now he had a good view of her fishnet leggings and the black-denim, ultra-short booty-shorts that had the straps of a lacey, black thong raised up and showing above her curvy hips.

The other girls were dressed similarly.

Natelie wore a sky-blue tube-top that sort-of matched his daughter’s, her much larger, fatter, F-cup tits were displaying much more of her youthful flesh, and Gwen, who was wearing an oversized, artful, band T-shirt over her boyish upper-body, did not mind at all that every single crevice and curve of her bouncy, wide butt was being accented by the pair of skin-tight, pink leggings clinging to her lower-half. As much as the sight of young lustful assets being on candid display caused a shameful stirring in his crotch to occur, Brock felt a twinge of paternal worry and couldn’t help but say something about it, the monkey and ring on his right hand’s middle finger temporarily forgotten about.

“Girls, just stay in for the night. You’re already drunk, for Christ’s sake.” Brock said, closing the door behind him and standing firmly in their path. They were adults and could make their own decisions, but he’d be a terrible father, and a terrible man in general, if he just let that group of ****-bait walk out of his front door and go get themselves pregnant by some random bar bum. “It’s not worth it... Trust me, for once.”

The girls’ steps and giggling slowly came to a stop as looks of confusion came over their cute, make-up coated faces.

“He’s got a point, girls.” Ophilia sighed in agreement, her enthusiasm suddenly nonexistent as her black-painted lips curled into a slight frown. “Let’s just hang here for the night and light up the blunt that Freddy gave us.”

“Me too, now that you mention it.” Natellie said with slurred words, already leading the trio to turn around back towards the kitchen. “Bars aren't really worth it, anyway.”

Gwen just silently nodded with one eye half-open as she left with the other girls, her and Natellie’s huge asses wobbling and sloshing around as his daughter’s pert butt wiggled between them.

Brock blinked in disbelief, putting his hands on his hips as he stood there and admired three sexy young rumps in silent thought.

Okay, so either this ring works, or Brock had slipped into some kind of alternate reality when he opened his front door, where monkeys handed out fancy presents and sexy young women actually listened to men who knew what was best for them.

The first option was much more likely, Brock thought.

… Also, weed? In his fucking house?!