Page 3 of Vibes

When Cora snaps her head up again she spits the red punch on all five of the Denver Lords. Screams erupt all around us, and Flynn’s cool facade melts away.

“It’s time we get out of here,” Londyn hisses, grasping my arm. I don’t know when she made her way around the island, but right now, I couldn’t agree more.

“Let’s go,” I whisper, and Londyn barely nods before we’re running. People move out of our way, probably afraid of what the team plans to do now that Cora’s mocked five of them, and I can feel my heart beating too fast in my chest.

Fuck parties. They always seem to end up out of control.

Even though I didn’t personally insult the captain of the hockey team, I’m pretty sure this is going to come back to bite me in the ass.

1 Just a Bullet on the Wall

Lachlan

Three days later

I should’ve known a nutjob like Cora had an ace up her sleeve. I just thought Cornelia was bat-shit crazy and her little circle of friends was one V-card away from a full house. The only one I know at all is the wallflower, and even though she dated one of the football players she never seemed thrilled about it.

So how the hell did I end up cursed by one of her friends and turned into a goddamn vibrator?

Has this experience been humbling? Sort of, but it’s hard to reflect on my bad behavior when I’m constantly being overlooked at the sex store. If anything, this is soul-crushing, but Cora’s revenge didn’t exactly leave space for me to make up for my so-called sins.

I didn’t do anything. I brought Iris to the island, as was the plan, and we were going to watch the three of them drink that ridiculous punch. No one had the displeasure of drinking that toxic mess; Jaxen’s whole job for the night was getting it ready while Flynn called the shots. Since Ronaldo wanted no part in our mess, Jaxen agreed to help.

“Morning again, Lachlan,” Cora says cheerily, her voice a booming echo around me as she goes through her inventory list. Even though I can’t quite see her, she’s been doing this for the past three days. Each morning inventory is taken, and since I have the displeasure of staring across the room at a calendar, I can tell how much time is passing without needing anyone to tell me.

Is staring the right word? Come to think of it, I’m lacking eyes, so maybe all of this is metaphorical. Is my soul just peering through this vibration prison towards my forever?

If growling were an option, I’d growl right now. This is all because I said I’d get Iris. She seemed like the safest option out of the three girls. Boy was I wrong. None of them were safe. I should’ve let the others go through with this ridiculous plan and stayed out of it.

My box is tapped by something, either Cora’s finger or a pen, and it occurs to me I’ve let my mind wander. It’s the only thing that can move at this point. “Naughty Lachlan. You’re going to learn size really does matter.”

I suppose I should explain. I’m no longer a six-foot-five hunky hockey god on my way to playing in the NHL. When I woke up from a dizzy spell after the party three days ago. I was miniscule. Small. And Cora was in the middle of chucking me into a box in this new form.

I’ve been reduced to a sex toy. Literally.

“I guess I should do something with you,” Cora muses, and her voice starts to fade as she moves. She doesn’t wait for a response, and it’s not like I can talk in this form. “I didn’t think this whole plan through.”

When I get out of this hell, I’m giving Cora a piece of my mind. If this isn’t about Iris, and I’m just a victim of being in the way when she spit on us, I’m going to be so pissed at Flynn.

Speaking of, where the hell is my team? I don’t know why they’d come to confront Cora at a sex shop, but it’s been three freaking days. We have a game tonight and Coach will lose his shit if I don’t show up to a game where scouts might be in the crowd.

Where are my friends? There should be a mutiny at this point. The hockey season is well underway and thinking about how my team will fare without me makes my nonexistent stomach ache.

Cornelia Ravencroft is my one-way ticket to personal damnation after trapping me in this vibration prison.

Note to self—it's the damn punch bowl's fault. I don’t know what kind of hocus pocus Cora shot our way when she spat on us, but if I ever turn back into my former self I’m staying as far away from that girl as I can. Seeing her here at the sex shop where she seems to work is bad enough.

Voices float around the shop, distracting me from my dark thoughts. I need someone to get over here and pick me up. If I’m not trapped on a shelf, I might be able to figure out a way out of this mess.

“That one,” a voice suddenly cries out. I wonder which item they’re talking about until I hear them say, “A little bullet might be perfect to get you going again. And look, it's on sale!”

Little. Cora could’ve turned me into anything. A giant dildo or even just a regular sized vibrator. But instead, she settled for this injustice and surely cackled all the way home. The first time I ever saw my new form was in one of the mirrored walls here before being placed on the shelf and discarded.

I don't know what happened to anyone else. I just know I'm stuck up here being constantly overlooked.

“I don’t really need a vibe,” another voice says, and damned if it isn't familiar. This is the biggest fuck you the universe can throw my way if it turns out to be her. “I have enough sex toys to get the job done. No point getting more.”

“As long as it isn’t Dylan I support any toy you want, even if you already own it,” the first voice says, and I can almost put my finger on who that is. “He’s not still bugging you, is he?”