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Chapter 25 by Alanshore Alanshore

What has Meat planned?

Andy's POV (The car)

An hour later, Andy’s polished dress shoes clicked against the pavement as he approached his car, briefcase in hand. The moment he opened the door, a thick, musky stench hit him—a mix of sweaty & sweet smell, along with something sour and primal. "What the heck!", Andy said out loud as he wrinkled his nose, glancing around the empty parking lot.

Thinking it to be his delusion, Andy slid into the driver's seat. But the familiar scent of his car leather was now underpinned by the thick, pungent, and unfamiliar smell. He sniffed deep, a frown creasing his brow as the heavy, musty odor of sweat and salty, biological scent that clung to the back of his nostrils as he inhaled as well as produced a rancid taste along the back of his throat. "Was this smell here this morning? Why didn't I notice it then?", he wondered.

Andy's mind, tired from a busy day at the office, dismissed it as perhaps the spilled milkshake from yesterday that had gone sour. Or it could be stench from the soiled pants that he hid & later forgot in the trunk after he had an 'accident' at the adult movie theatre last weekend, which he had started to secretly frequent for the last few years, unbeknownst to his wife.

"Note to self - have to take those pants out & wash it today without Candy knowing! Maybe the heat is making it so smelly. The weather is quite hot today... And have to give this car seats a wash too...", Andy thought as he settled properly in his seat, which surprisingly was feeling a bit sticky.

"Another note to self", Andy thought, shifting in his seat again, "Ask Candy to take my car to the carwash....", as he reached down under him and felt the sticky seat, bringing it upto his nose only to find the smell stronger & muskier, and slightly hypnotic. "Plus, no milkshake in the car ever again! Atleast not in this heat", he wondered as he rubbed his fingers trying to get the slimy, sticky substance off it.

Shrugging, he wiped it on his shirt & rolled down the window, letting in the cool evening air to dilute the strange, musky scent he couldn't quite place, and drove home none the wiser; unaware that the sticky substance he was sitting on & now splattered across his shirt was not the spoilt spilled milkshake from yesterday, but the testament of his obliviousness which had unwillingly leaked from an orifice where he had no access to.

What's next?

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