Timmy Thick Novels & Stories

If he’d combed his hair in recent history, there was no evidence of it. “Hi, I’m Timothy! It’s so good to meet you at last.” Not knowing what else to do, Billie stuck out her hand, and, after looking at her outstretched palm for a moment, he shook it. ‘Tiger Man’ had strong, tough hands. She could feel the calluses on his palms when he touched her. “Hello, Timothy.” Then, as he studied the expression on her face, his eyes began to twinkle. “Not the place your dates usually take you, huh?”

“Thank you, love.” Maddison's call came in and Clara added her to the call. “Hi babies. Were you guys enjoying any gist behind my back? That’s $10 from each of you.” They all burst into laughter. Maddison had that rule set in high school, they weren’t allowed to have juicy gists without the third person present, whoever it was. If anyone did, they had to pay a fine to the third person, whoever it might be. Fortunately for Maddison she was always late on gists so she ripped them alone. It was her scamming scheme.

Tim stated worriedly. "Of course, I wouldn't put you at risk." "Do some stretching then after that let's check your skills." I did some stretching and Tim worked me out really good. I was sweating so much after just thirty minutes. I block out all the voices of the people who were talking about me. That's the thing about full blood royals we know when people in the crowd are discussing about us.

“That’s it! You’re gonna get it!” His blue eyes widened in anticipation. “No!” “Too late!” She raised clenched fingers, her fake scowl threatening to break into a grin. “Now. You. Die!” “Noooo!” With an exaggerated downward thrust, she planted her hand into his belly and tickled him. He laughed and jerked, and alarm shivered through her as her grasp slipped. Timmy was only six, but he was so big for his age. If she wasn’t careful, he could squirm free, hit the floor . . .

Doctors hate wars though it keeps them busy. I chose not to bother Mom with a phone call. It was random anyway and she had a way of detecting if something was the matter with me. I knew she had enough to deal with without learning that my sister-in-law was a fledgling vampire. Or whatever they called them. And Theresa was a creature of nerves without the comforting presence of Rose. Her past coming to the fore again. So I sought out Timo, finding him just exiting the harem room. He had taken to wearing a cloak and I wondered why. He must be sweltering indoors at this time of year.

"You're just angry that my dick is bigger than your boy toy's!" "Keep dreaming Little Timmy." "I am not little! I'll have you know that I'm well above average!" Hearing and seeing the water splash around, I knew that Timothy was moving away to grab a robe to cover himself with. "And don't call me Timmy!" "See? Now I just have to keep callin' you Timmy." "And I'll have to call you Ray-Ray." "Ew. No." "Exactly." Timothy grabbed another rob, motioning for me to stand up. "C'mon sweetie pie! Let's get you out of this tub so you can get dressed and eat."

The other members of the team: Timmy Stormblood 'Tim', the eldest and most matured member of the team. Age nineteen, son of Delactor Stormblood a world renowned swordsman. Tim joined the blade rage with the goal of becoming one of the strongest swordsman in the continent. At age nine he began learning the ways of the sword, at eleven he developed his own sword force and by fourteen he began learning sword style. Wielding the sword dubbed, Confessor's end. Now having a current bounty of ninety thousand perus.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I embarrass her, Timothy?” Timothy gave a soft chuckle. “No, Ma’am. It actually suits Rebecca. She is my baby girl.” I smacked his arm. “You too.” “Ma’am? How about you call me… Mom? Or you can just call me… Carol.” The spoon Timothy had been holding clattered against his plate for no apparent reason. He let out an awkward laugh and suddenly excused himself. “Sorry, Mom. Tim can be really stubborn. He ate nachos earlier—even though he’s lactose intolerant. Now his stomach’s acting up,” I said, shaking my head.

If she wouldn't listen to my words, perhaps my actions would speak louder. As I approached her door, a small figure darted out from the neighboring apartment. "Alpha Thorne!" The young wolf pup, barely eight years old, bounded toward me with more energy than should be possible at this early hour. "Did you bring breakfast again?" I couldn't help but smile. Timothy—or "Timmy" as he preferred—had become an unexpected ally in my morning vigils. "I did," I confirmed, lowering the bag to his eye level. "Venison stew today. It's especially good for keeping warm in this weather."

The halls are dark, the only sound the hum of the vending machines. I plug in the flash drive. A single folder appears: GENESIS_PROTOTYPE_02 My fingers hover over the mouse, trembling. I click it open. Dozens of video files pop up. Each one labeled by date — years ago. The first one is titled Subject L.V. — Initial Testing. I click play. The screen flickers, then shows a sterile white room. A little girl sits on a hospital bed, her hair in messy pigtails, a stuffed bear in her hands.