No Freaking Thanks

Chapter 11

Sunday, October 30, 2022; New London, Connecticut, U.S.A.

Shortly after midnight, Terry began swirling down to his dream.

"Wake up, Dr. Darrell. You have arrived at Chibiville. Hope you enjoy putting your creativity and physics to the test!" goes the intercom system of the train.

He woke up, dressed in the most professional outfit: black aviator sunglasses, a black cotton T-shirt with a front pocket holding his nametag, blue gaming gloves with some advanced technology, navy high-waisted denim jeans that made his butt more pronounced, leather suspenders, cyan cotton socks, and black platform cowboy boots. For good measure, he applied blue lipstick to give his lips a come-hither look.

Upon entering the dream park, he can see how well the park is doing: well-populated rides, children fumbling around with the arcade machines, vendors grinding their blood and sweat off while serving refreshments and souvenirs to restless crowds, groundskeepers and mechanics maintaining the park frequently, and the scenery full of life. Terry's smartwatch rung, and he looked down to see Jared (as a leader of the advertising team). "How's everything doing over there?" Terry asked.

"Fine," Jared replied, "Perhaps you could place down some gentle rides to attract more visitors, like a Ferris Wheel or a dinosaur's nest."

"Coming right up, chap," Terry said as he switched over to a selection of rides on his smartphone app. It would display what attractions, games, or stalls Terry can place down on the fly with the help of his gloves. He selected a dinosaur's nest ride and placed it on a vacant spot. Once the ride has finished materializing, a horde of souvenir-donning guests rushed over and dropped their money for their seats. Terry's smartwatch vibrated again.

"Care to drop a new log flume coaster?" Jared asked.

Terry immediately used the app to create the coaster we wanted. It materialized from thin air and more guests ran there. A voice from his right caught his attention, and it belonged to a robotics enthusiast (a red-haired husky man in an anime shirt). "You must be the park manager! I love that saucer-sumo game you have over there. I was wondering if you want a challenge with me."

"Oh, I would love a challenge," Terry smirked while cracking his knuckles. The gentlemen took their seats and manned their controllers. The seating felt so good under Terry's big butt that it gave him a sense of arousal. His penis grew erect and thick inside his tight jeans as the game started. The two saucers clashed at full force and recoiled back equally. All of that action made the real Terry thrust his hips forward while the genitals stood erect. Each crash from within the dream enhanced the thrusting. His dream self started to sweat from his armpits, followed by his forehead and hands. He twitched and breathed while his hands reached for his pulsing member. Terry brushed it lightly and ejaculated two ounces worth of essence. Upon waking up to the mess on his body, he rushed to a bathroom to clean himself up before returning to sleep peacefully.

At seven-fifteen in the morning, the kitchen was busy: pancakes being flipped, bacon and hashbrowns cooked to crispy sensations, orange juice being passed around, and coffee being served from Sonya's father's thermos to anyone sans the Slovakias. Jared packed his things in his car and drove off to Utica for another mission. On the way through I-90 W, he noticed Terry from behind turning to a parking lot of an abandoned warehouse. Jared stopped to watch his friend head inside the building. Speaking of, the building was apparently expanded to rival that of a multi-purpose arena. Jared thought, "What the heck is Terry up to in there?" He shook his head to focus more on spreading the word about Mormonism and continued driving off. Little did he know that he was being spied on.