Recovery

It had taken me an eternity to literally pick myself up again. That bitch had really done a number on me. While I was pretty sure that no ribs were broken, my body certainly didn't feel whole. For a couple of minutes I didn't even dare get up out of fear that she might come back. Blood was running from my nose in streams and my intial attempts at hobbling forwards only ended in my crashing onto the hard floor again. In short, I was all old Brendan again.

The whole way home bordered to torture. I could barely walk but sleeping outside in the cold also wasn't an option. So I dragged onwards, limping at an unbelievably slow pace. More than once did I curse my previous enthusiasm and swore to never go for a stroll ever again.

My relieve when I finally collapsed on my bed with the rays of the rising sun already peeking through my window blinds cannot be described in words. For a couple of hours I fell into a restless slumber which proved to me that you can feel pain even in your dreams. However even sleep posed only a short temporary relieve.

When I woke up my body seemed to hurt even more than it had last night. Lying around also didn't seem to help much with the pain, so I eventually decided to get up and grab some breakfast.

Which already confronted me with the next problem. There wasn't a single edible thing remaining in my fridge or my whole flat in general and together with that came the painful realization that the number on my bank account had dropped to zero quite a while ago. I slammed the fridge door shut which caused my arm to flare up in painful protest.

I only had a few day left until my landlord would kick me out and my stomach wouldn't feed itself. Everything called for me to use my powers to improve this situation but right now after the consequences of my failed attempt, I really didn't feel confident enough.

A part of me was well aware that the beating was first of all partially well deserved and second of all, the result of my own idiocy and yet, now that my success had been overshadowed by a crushing loss, I really, really couldn't find the strenght to dominate someone within me.

"No powers today, Brendan!" I promised myself. Sexual domination could wait another day.

However, not doing something wouldn't get rid of my hunger. If I wanted to avoid using my powers, I would have to get creative.

Option 1 was stealing from a supermarket. Which might have been easy enough if I didn't look like a living corpse from The Walking Dead. Right now, my appearance practiacally screamed shoplifting and I'd rather not get into trouble with the police especially with Evelyn's threat still breathing down my neck.

The same reasoning unfortunately also ruled out Option 2. I doubted that I had any talent at pickpocketing and I sure as hell wasn't going to perform any swift or sneaky movements today. Also, just the idea of leaving the house made my body ache in protest.

That left only Option 3. My landlord, Miss Reynolds, only rented her flats to young women to give them a "safe haven" or some dumb excuse like that. I had been the sore exception that Briana had come to regret rather quickly. Sometimes I wondered how I had even been allowed to stay in this apartment for so long but I guessed that Briana considered me pathetic enough to grant me some mercy. At least until now.

Generally, Briana tried to create a atmosphere of trust and safety within her complex so that the women living there wouldn't have to put up with stupid men interefering with their lives. And, at least to my judgement, it worked. And that was the crucial point in my plan.

That meant that often times the girls living here forgot or didn't bother to lock their apartment doors. After all, everybody who wasn't a young woman would stick out like a sore thumb and would have troubles getting into the building in the first place. But now, that was my chance. I was the impostor among this pussy club and I'd use that too my advantage even if it meant breaking into a flat.

My plan was simple. Make my way through the building and inconspicuously try to get into an unlocked apartment. And I knew just were to start.

My first target required me to head down one floor. I only knew the girl living there from some short encounters on the stairwell and based on her premium cheerleader look and her slightly daft and scatterbrained impression I had decided to call her "bimbo" in my head.

Bimbo basically never locked her door. At least I couldn't recall a time where she had. Taking the stairs took some painful effort but after a while I had finally dragged myself to her doorstep.

A quick look around. I was pretty certain that during this time of the week all of the girls should be at work. In my current state I probably wouldn't survive it if anyone saw me. My hand hovered over the door handle.

Had I really stooped so low?

My stomach answered the question for me with an audible growl. Without thinking any further I grabbed the handle and pushed...

JACKPOT!

Quietly, the door slid open just a bit. I tensed up and listened. Nothing!

I opened the door a little further, revealing a stylish, modernly furnished hallway with lots of with football jersey's, pictures of famous actresses plastered all over the walls and of course pictures of the bimbo herself during various phases of her live. I assumed the layout to be more or less the same as my own apartment which quickly proved correct once I made my way into the kitchen/living room area.

The bimbo had clearly not bothered doing her dishes. Used plates and tableware were scattered around the kitchen area. Frankly, I didn't really care. Immediately, my eyes locked onto her fridges which buzzed calmly and full of promise. A few moments later, my efforts were rewarded, at least more or less.

Her refrigerator was filled to the brim with food. But I should have exptected her to be the type of girl who really enjoys that modern, healthy crap. A quick haul left me with two diet yogurts since I couldn't even figure out what most of the stuff in there was supposed to be.

But frankly, I didn't really care. I wolfed down the disgustingly bland paste like my survival depended on it. Within one minute I had swallowed every shred of what was supposed to be a dragonfruit eco friendly super sports yogurt.

For now, my hunger was stilled which was probably helped by the fact that I didn't really want to eat more of the bimbo's health magazine shit. Also, eating too much would tell her that someone had broken into her flat.

Which reminded me, that I had actually broken into her flat. I was just about to leave, I swear, when my eyes caught another herd of temptation.

It seemed like the dishes weren't the only thing that the bimbo didn't enjoy doing regularly. A large pile of the girl's laundry was peeking out from her bedroom. Quickly, I weighed the pros and cons of giving in to my impulses but a part of me had already made that decision for me.

Only moments later did I find myself squatting (which hurt like hell) next to a spacious double bed and searching through the pile of clothing that had been carelessly built in one corner of the room.

My first finding was a tempting pink bra and immediately my thoughts derailed imagining the blonde bitch wearing just a short skirt and said pink bra, showing off her well trained body. My heart lept once I found the matching panties.

When I brought them to my nose an unfamiliar aroma consisting of sweat, salt and something I couldn't quite pin subtle but still strong to my senses found its way into my nostrils. Here I was, in her flat, in her bedroom smelling her panties just like some pervert in a porn video. My arousal stirred as I took another deep breath through my nose, really enjoying the unknown scent. She must have worn those recently otherwise the odor couldn't be so strong.

Gently I ran my tongue over the insides of her panties.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!" I quickly turned back my hand panties still in hand. Behind me stood a blonde haired girl wearing black leggings and a matching black sports top that strained visibly under her sizable breasts. Her usually sweet, model-like features were contorted to a grimace of anger, fear and disgust all directed at the guy who she had just caught licking her underwear.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOME?" Her voice was becoming even shriller. I tried to scramble up but my bruised body betrayed me. The bimbo was meanwhile hyperventilating.

"OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! YOU'RE THE FUCKING PERVERT FROM UPSTAIRS! I'M GOING TO CALL THE POLICE!" Her emotions were still boiling up as she kept on screaming at me. Her emotional outburst might have been my saving grace. Because before she could get her phone out of her pockets, I started to feel a now familiar pull...