Bearing Fruit
Erotic Horror
"Routine patrol, he said," grumbles Brent, stomping through the grass, "Probably be back before he's done, he said." The familiar campsite seems almost fantastical in the moonlight, the windswept trees looming like giant claws. The transceiver at his hip crackles and Brent jumps, knocking into a tree that rains some sort of sandy dust onto him. "Central, R...
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