CHAPTER 467: CHAPTER 467: SAME OLD SHIT (PART 7)

Don stepped onto the property, boots crunching against the path. Once he did, a bark tore through the air almost instantly.

Rex.

The dog came charging from the side of the house, nails scraping on the porch tiles as he bounded forward.

Don stopped at the foot of the steps, waiting. Rex pulled up short just below the first riser, hackles up, a low growl rising under the bark.

Then his eyes met Don’s.

The bark strangled out half-formed, the dog’s tail stiffening before he faltered. His head tilted, gaze darting around as though confused. The growl died altogether. In the next breath he turned tail, scampering back toward the side of the house.

Don let the faintest smile crease his mouth. He shook his head once, then reached for the doorbell.

He didn’t get the chance.

The door swung open, Donald stepping out mid-complaint. "Come on, Rex, would you stop barking at every kid who pass—"

His voice cut off. He froze, glasses glinting as his eyes widened.

"Don!" Donald blurted. "What are... what are you doing here?"

Blue long-sleeved shirt, gamer print across the chest, black sports shorts, white socks bunched at the ankles. He adjusted his glasses with a push up the bridge, still staring up at him.

Don smiled. "I’m here to see your mom. Is she in?"

Donald’s mouth opened, nothing came out. He blinked, lips parting like his brain had dropped frames.

Don shook his head, smile growing a little wider. "I’m joking. You mentioned you’d be home all day, so I thought I’d stop by for a bit."

Donald’s shoulders slumped in relief. "Aha... yeah, I knew you were kidding, dude." He tried to play it cool, failing. "Uhm... come in." He shuffled aside quickly, gesturing Don in with a hurried sweep of his arm.

Inside, the familiar air of the household pressed close—clean but faintly saturated with dust and the warm electronic hum of screens left on standby. Donald led the way toward the living room, talking fast.

"My mom was actually asking about you the other day," he said. "She was wondering if we’d still see each other at school."

"I won’t have that many theory classes," Don said evenly. "Most days I’m at school will likely be training for the UPSDF recruitment."

Donald’s step hitched for a fraction. He glanced back, nodded like he’d expected it, then trailed off. "I figured you’d be joining when I heard the announcement. Still..."

His eyes flicked toward his setup in the living room—a multi-monitor rig with a VR cradle beside it. Don followed the glance.

The VR gear wasn’t all that was visible. A bottle of lotion sat half-hidden near the armrest, and in the corner bin... tissues.

Don caught it instantly with his sharpened senses. He filed it away, gave no reaction, and crossed to the sofa.

Donald fumbled. He tried to block the sightline with his body, grabbing the lotion quick and palming it toward the side table.

His words tripped over each other as he tried to sound normal. "Y-yeah... yeah, I totally get you, man. Anyway, uhm, get comfortable. I’ll be right with you. I just... just gotta check something in my room. Be back real quick."

"Sure," Don said, sinking into the sofa without looking at him again.

Donald bolted down the hall.

The living room hummed with electronics. Don’s gaze moved toward the screen wall—right as the gaming rig did something he wasn’t expecting.

A holographic projection flickered to life above the cradle. A woman hovered there: pale skin, black hair spilling down her back, a body molded for fantasy, armor that covered almost nothing.

The model floated mid-space between Don and the setup, posture demure but provocative.

"Attention, viewer," the program announced, voice wrapped in a faint accent, polite but odd in cadence. "The rig is currently in standby mode. Would you like to switch to regular television in the meantime?"

Don leaned back against the sofa. "Yeah. Sure."

The projection blinked once, then twice, before cutting to black. For a moment, the room was quiet. Then the setup flared back to life.

Not news. Not a game.

A reality show filled the screen, the kind pumped out by cheap networks with a surplus of desperation and ad money.

The title sequence was already gone. What played was a recap, voiced over by a hyper, nasal-sweet narrator whose rolled R’s gave her away as Latina.

"Laaast week on Cougar Next Door," she chirped with breathless energy, "our handsome graduates showed they’re not afraid of older challenges!"

Clips rolled: a tanned kid with abs painted by the sun flexing while trimming a lawn, a bleach-blonde mother of three fanning herself from a porch swing.

"Heeeere, Alejandro tried to impress Marissa with his salsa moves in the driveway..." A shot cut to him spinning, stumbling, then falling into the hood of a parked minivan. "And her husband’s car paid the price!"

Next—another clip: two bronzed twenty-year-olds holding grocery bags. "Meanwhile, Chad and Bryce cooked dinner for Lisa—except they forgot she’s vegan!" Quick cut to Lisa gagging at a rare steak while Chad proudly flexed over it.

"And of course... the kiss that shocked the neighborhood!" Cue dramatic slow-motion: a sweaty basketball game, a ball rolling across the pavement, then a young man suddenly pulling a forty-something into a dip-kiss while children in the background screamed.

The voiceover gushed: "Who will win their hearts? Who will win the prize? And who will go home with nothing but bruised egos and stretch marks of shame?"

Right then Donald re-entered, muttering as soon as he caught sight of the screen. "Man, I hate this show. It’s so freaking cheesy."

He plopped onto the sofa next to Don, waving a hand at the screen. "I mean, look at this—it’s literally frat guys chasing neighborhood milfs. Can you believe my mom and her friends actually tried applying?"

Don didn’t crack so much as a smirk. "Wow. For real?" He said it flat, but he didn’t doubt it one bit.

Donald groaned. "Yeah." He leaned back, shaking his head. Then his tone shifted, eyes sparking with something he’d been holding back. "Anyway, forget that. I’ve been wanting to tell you about something crazy, man."

Don leaned into the armrest, brow raised. "What happened?"

Donald bolted upright again, hands spreading like he was about to pitch an invention. "Okay, get this. Remember Becky? The girl who gave me top in my mom’s car?"

Don gave a slow nod. "Yeah. I remember. What about her?"

Donald fought a smirk, but it bled through. "Well, turns out she has an OS."

Don didn’t blink. Not surprised. But he played along, tweaking his earlier reply. "Oh? For real?"

"Yeah," Donald said quickly, nodding with real enthusiasm now. "And you know what’s crazier? She’s only been using toys up until now. And she wants to switch to the real thing... with me." His voice lifted almost giddy, the high almost made his glasses slide down his nose.

That one caught Don. His brows went up. "How did that happen?"

Donald smiled in that way guys do when they think they’re the chosen one. "Oh, you know. After she told me she had an OS, I had to check it out. She’s not, like, super popular, so it was just a few of us in her chats. And she figured it was me ’cause of my username. DonaldWithTheRod"

Don’s brow quirked. "...DonaldWithTheRod?"

"Exactly," Donald said proudly, like it was a badge. "She would always flirt with me there, and we went next level after meeting up again. She took me to a hotel and—man—it was crazy sex. She started with top again but then she asked if I wanted my ass licked—"

Don lifted a hand, palm out, expression flat. "Don’t worry, bro. I don’t need details. So what happened next exactly? Crazy good sex, then her wanting to film with you?"

Donald bobbed his head. "Yeah, basically. Well... and a lot of texting. But that’s basically it, yeah." His grin widened. "We even share a lot of NSFW hobbies. I’m telling you, man. I think I found the one."

Don pressed his mouth into a line, brows raised just slightly. He knew this tone. He’d heard it enough times from guys chasing a high in the shape of a woman. Talking him out of it would be pointless.

So he gave it the only answer that fit.

"I’m happy for you, bro."

Donald’s grin held, glasses slipping again as he leaned back against the sofa, basking in it.