He was remorseful, but if you were faced with death, would you go quietly? Walter was by no means a young man- pushing 70 by this point- and illness had been sapped him of any life he would have left. His disease was incurable, but at least the doctors saw the warning signs early, giving Walter time to find… alternate methods to cheat death. Most of what he found were schemes and cons, plain and simple, but he managed to find SOMETHING, a glimmer of hope. Written on a scrap of parchment, crumpled in his feeble fist was what he believed to be only shot at living to see the sunrise. Would it work, or did he waste what precious time he had left chasing a fantasy? Either way, he didn’t much time: bedridden, unable to continue his research, Walter was sent to the hospital, and was not expected to be discharged. All there was left to do was to test it.

The spell required another person to work- Walter didn’t know why and didn’t wish to- and he had someone special mind. Wynter was poor excuse for a nurse, much less a decent human being. Rude and judgmental, bickering with anyone who dared to interact with her, always on her phone instead of keeping up with Walter’s medications. She didn’t deserve her youth, not like Walter.

After a wave of dizziness, Walter was greeted with twin orbs sticking out of his chest, hospital scrubs clinging tightly to foreign curves. He was just happy to walk on his own, see clearly without cataracts to blind him, feel vitality again, but he was eager to see HOW happy he should be, practically running into a nearby washroom. He was not disappointed with what he found. Slowly, in awe, Walter peeled of the pair of gray boyshorts. Perhaps a size too small, given the indentations on his otherwise flawless skin, but perhaps Wynter was even more gifted than he first thought. He marveled at the absolute shelf he was in possession of, first shaking his hips to feel the jiggle before greedily grabbing a handful. “Oh goodness…” not used to the sensation, Walter let out a soft moan. Oops, went a little gung-ho, there. He was reluctant to stop it there- already his soft mound was moistening with need- but if “Wynter” was caught rubbing one out during work hours, in a patient’s bathroom she’d get fired, and it was only fair that Walter kept an eye on his old body, see it off before the end.