Chapter 19: A Few More Adventures

Gila woke temporarily during the night when he felt a faint bowel pressure. He debated whether it was liquid or gas, then remembered his underwear and pushed anyway. A silent gush of George’s bountiful gift rushed into the back of his Briefies™, making them subtly swell as it coated Gila’s rump with creamy warmth. The cat scooted closer to his slumbering husband and lay his head down on the gecko’s cool chest. George automatically put an arm around Gila, and in reaching down to cup the cat’s rump, found it soft and squishy. The gecko smiled.

In the morning, George had to take a piss. As soon as he got out of the bed, Gila awoke, and when the cat rolled onto his rump, the plush bounty from last night squirted against his sensitive aperture and made him jump. Gila’s morning wood turned into throbbing pleasure, so he slunk over to his husband and kissed him on the lips again. George played with the cat’s rump and tented spire, squishing the former against his rump while gently rolling the latter between his fingers. Gila tried to dive down on George’s grand projection, but the gecko shook his head and escorted him to the bathroom.

“Here,” said Gila, his tail wagging. He grabbed the bath mat and tossed it out of the room, then knelt on the tile floor. A subtle, musky stink radiated from the cat’s undies, a combination of old sperm and a not-quite-clean back passage. Gila reached up and stroked George’s thick half-erection. “Just think of baseball.”

The gecko chuckled. “I ain’t mopping it up.”

“I’ll lick it all up!” Gila proclaimed.

“Get in the shower,” George laughed.

His husband obeyed and opened his mouth while kneeling. “Open your Briefies™, too. I ain’t shittin’ in them, but I got you a nice gift.”

Gila barely had to tug his waistband, as the front was already stretched with his enthusiasm. George’s spunk clung to his backside, massaging his cheeks and tickling his slit. The gecko wiggled his hefty organ and blew air through his lips to relax. Eventually, his bladder released, and a sumptuous golden stream sprung from the organ, pouring across the distance and onto Gila’s stomach.

The river trickled into his absorbent tighty-whities, spilling over his erection and pooling quickly around his sac before soaking into the thirsty fabric. The understrap and crotch of his undies swelled like a balloon, sinking between his thighs and spreading into a heavy pouch. Warmth surrounded Gila’s undercarriage, lapping against his ring and immersing his sac. With the constant flow of liquid, the cat’s bladder relaxed as well, and his cock sprang with urine, filling his briefs even faster.

The sturdy undies grew between his knees, heavily hanging from his hips as they touched both his calves and the shower floor. Gila’s hard prick throbbed in its saturated, padded envelope, and the cat panted as he sat in a squishy, swollen globe. His Briefies™ safely swaddled him amongst their wonderful liquids, keeping their relative shape despite their great ballooning.

George’s biological routine was usually kickstarted by coffee, but the relief of his bladder signaled his back passage and he felt a bright pressure. “Mmf,” he said, rubbing his stomach. The sight of Gila kept him half-hard. “Don’t know if you want to be here for this, but I got something else to take care of.”

“I mean, pop the drain cover and let it go,” said Gila. That final word was gaining more power in their household: Gila was wearing diapers a lot more often, even to work. Even without, his undies were super easy to wash; they were getting their own cycle independent of other clothing. George wore Werk jeans quite often, so the front and back panels were quite easy to remove—if they weren’t off already—and the tile floor was also easy to clean.

It had gotten to the point where the men were teasing incontinence, as they were so relaxed and had such a dynamic routine. Gila had an accident at work, helping lift a pallet: he squatted down and pushed up, which also had the Newtonian effect of something else pushing down and out. Fortunately, only Pall was there to hear the distinct crackle and recognize the new bulge in the back of Gila’s pants.

“Hey bro,” he’d said to his boss. The jaguar then squat down and pushed, then the two high-fived with their butts looking a lot more pointed. Gila gave Pall a new diaper, then they snuck off to separate break rooms to clean themselves up.

“Oof,” said George, feeling his canal pulse. The swollen briefs around Gila’s hips were a ball and chain, keeping him in the shower. “Look, nah. We can have our shenanigans, but one piece of cake is a half-hour on the treadmill. Give and take.”

Gila tried to stand and his briefs wobbled with weight. He couldn’t keep his legs shut. “Whoa, whoa,” he said, catching himself on the shower bar as he lost balance. “But I wanna do something.”

“You can do something, but I gotta shit,” George said, stepping out to the toilet. He turned around and hiked up his tail, then sat down. His penis slapped onto the seat, still engorged. He debated pushing it into the bowl, but in its current state it’d dip into the water, which absolutely would not be clean soon. The preliminary passage of gas echoed in the toilet, and George felt the head of his first deposit spread his ring.

“Well now I gotta do something,” Gila grinned. He sashayed out of the shower as best he could, his briefs looking like a diaper with double-fly lines. The cat turned around with a wag of his tail, then started to shimmy out of his underwear.

“That’s the stuff,” George grunted, watching Gila reveal his precious slit and the back of his sac. The gecko pushed, feeling a thick, firm cable slither out of him. It plopped in the bowl, splashing back against his undercarriage. When the cat bent over to gently place his heavy undies at his feet, George leaned forward and licked his fingers, sliding them into Gila’s almost-clean hole.

The cat moaned and his canal gripped the gecko’s fingers. George’s nostrils flared, taking in the musk of his old seed and the earthy potency of his digestive load. Gila leaned back against the fingers, penetrating himself, and looked lustily at the enormous brief wrapped around his ankles. George shifted on the toilet, his cock rising to full mast as he felt another thick shaft press against his back passage, ready to worm its way out of him.

“Come here,” he hungrily growled, then hooked his fingers inside Gila’s body, pulling him by his ring. Gila hungrily whimpered as he was drawn back against the larger male, then tried to relax as George gently spread him with his fingers. The gecko clenched, keeping his load inside him until the right time. Slowly, he escorted Gila’s rump over the top of his shaft, then exchanged his fingers for its bulbous head. George twitched as he felt a penetration of his own.

Bucking his hips, the gecko lowered his husband onto his member. As its warm, silky walls embraced him and stretched around him, squeezing, George’s own anus unclenched and started slowly pushing out a log nearly as big as his shaft.

“Just like that,” George grunted, “Oh yeah.” One rod replaced another, with the gecko’s scat sumptuously slithering out of him as he pushed into Gila’s ass. George bucked as the turd kept him spread open, writhing back and and forth on the bowl as his husband’s slick passage ensheathed him. “Holy fuck,” he growled, teeth clenching together as finally the thick waste broke off.

George’s ring gaped like his nostrils, and he began the feral process of thrusting into his husband as more material wended its way out of him. The stimulation in his bowels drove him on, and soon the two were bouncing against each other as he continued to shit.

“God, yes,” he snarled, sliding in and out of Gila. The cat squat deep on him, panting as it stretched his insides, then pulled back out, feeling the drastic gape in difference. George’s rump rasped as it worked on another snake, and when it slid against its ring the gecko groaned.

“Babe, I’m really close,” he rumbled.

Gila’s own organ was red-hot erect, eagerly drooling. His thighs burned from the awkward position, and George’s cock was making his back quake. “Fucking do it,” he growled, sliding down one final time. As Gila was filled, George was emptied. The gecko moaned and bucked his hips as his husband’s wet, warm passage massaged his every inch, and blushed as a particularly loud rasp signaled the slide of his final, wide turd. George’s entire undercarriage buzzed with sensation, all culminating in the lightning rod of his shaft, which erupted with white heat and flooded Gila’s bowels.

“Ah, ah!” George gasped, throbbing and squirting. His balls clenched tight to his crotch, pulsing as they unloaded their magnanimous, voluminous gift. A nugget squeezed out of him, plopping in the bowl below.

“That’s it, love, oh my God…” panted Gila. The thick shaft held him in place, and the cat held his stomach as his insides filled with sticky cream. His other paw needed only a few flutters on his prick, and soon he was squirting pearly ichor against the glass shower door.

“Oh fuck,” George sighed, slumping back against his tail and the toilet tank. “Oh fuck.”

Gila ground himself against his great anal anchor, feeling its girth stir inside him. “Best one yet, baby?” he asked.

The gecko took a few soft breaths. “Top eight, let’s say. Top eight.”

Gila wobbled as he stood free of George. His husband’s shaft schlorped loudly out of him, and he quickly clenched before he painted the gecko’s lap. The cat held his tail between his rump cheeks, feeling a little ooze out. He turned around and knelt before his beautiful, naked husband, then gently kissed the tip of his shaft. George twitched from the stimulation.

“Let me clean you,” Gila purred, and gently took George’s slick, glazed erection in his paw. The gecko focused solely on this, nervously watching the cat’s raspy tongue come out and almost dab its surface on his spent, oversensitive skin. He didn’t see the other paw, which reached behind Gila’s back, grabbed a sheaf of toilet paper, and wiped his post-movement anus.

“Ah!” George said. His buttocks clenched and held Gila’s fingers there. The gecko realized what he was doing and relaxed. Gila’s paw came back up with a brown-smeared strip, which made George blush.

Gila grinned. “Fair’s fair!”

George sighed, rolling his eyes. “I mean, I can wipe my own ass, but fine. Please pleasure yourself through my body, my avowed mate.”

“Gladly,” the cat purred.

George didn’t realize until after the fact that Gila had, during the proceedings, a full view of his bowel absolution. In the meantime, the gecko maintained a soft blush, keeping his legs spread as his husband reached under him with toilet paper and carefully cleaned him while delicately licking his penis clean. He flushed and the two stood up, hugged, and then they worked together to remove the absorbent core of the Briefies™ and wash the shell.

George went to go get dressed, but Gila was quick and met him at their closet.

“Those pants are normal,” he said, noting that there was no seam around the rump or crotch.

The gecko shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but males have a very dormant afterglow.”

“Well, yes,” said Gila, holding his arms behind him and sashaying from side to side. His penis wagged with his movements. “but it doesn’t mean you’re not still beautiful.”

George smiled, then grabbed another pair of Werk jeans. “So what’s my underwear gonna be?”

“Do you have to?” asked Gila, his ears perked.

The gecko’s face wrinkled and he nodded. “I’d really prefer to. Need something to wrangle the boys.”

Gila grinned and produced a small white wad with strings. George unfurled it and it looked more like a surgeon’s mask than it did underwear. He smirked. “Well, all right, but later on, you’re gonna be avoiding every sneeze.”

The cat laughed. “Like we let a bird into the house?”

“Eeyep,” George said, then slipped into the tiny undies. To his relief, the pouch was much bigger than first expected. It slipped up his long penis like a sock, and easily fit around his plump testes. It was soft and form-fitting, and made the exact outline of his sex instead of shaping it into a round pouch. It didn’t cover anything else, ending immediately at the root of his malehood. The thong string went up his buttocks, barely covering his private slit. The gecko smirked. “This just changed my junk’s color,” he said, then wagged his hips to demonstrate. His cock flopped around as it did before, but at least now there was a layer of fabric around it.

Gila wore a nice pair of briefs and a long t-shirt that reached an inch above the bottom of his undies, keeping them tantalizingly peeking out. When he had to pass George’s load, he was so good as to pull his underwear down and let his urine and the gecko’s sperm pour into the bowl.

George got to work cleaning the garage and Gila read a book. Occasionally, the cat would get up and sneak a peek at his husband, and caught him in several different modes. George carried himself as if he was properly clothed, which made his revealing crotch all the more delicious. As he adjusted an appliance at his workbench; his beautiful, smooth hips, his round, naked buttocks, and his prominent, white-wrapped length just hung in free space for Gila to drink in. When George would notice Gila, he’d just give an upward nod and return to his work.

Another time, George was bent over, cleaning the walls of his truck tires. The cat’s throat gaped, that tall glass of water just flooding his throat, because this was the money-shot. With his tail up, the gecko showed off everything, and his genitals seemed even larger, hanging between his legs in a bright white package. His intimate hole stood out on either side of the thong string, a sensitive, silky, gorgeous organ as wonderful to kiss as his lips.

Gila shivered as his briefs became tight, and quietly pulled himself out of his fly to stroke his hardening need. George continued to tinker, with every vibration of his scrubbing making the grand member wag. His anus delicately pulsed between his muscular rump cheeks.

“Oh shit,” Gila whispered, which made George jump and turn around. The gecko watched as his husband quivered and his cock jolted, spurting a few long pearly ropes right onto the garage floor.

George smirked, letting Gila wriggle and squirt. The cat blushed and covered his face while his dick tossed a few more strings. “Like what you see?” the gecko asked.

“Oh geez, I’m—” the cat stammered, feeling more exposed than his husband. His paw was still bolted around his modest member, which was now just holding a bead at its tip. “Yeah that was great.”

George shrugged. “Efficient, too. I got some chores done, and you got your rocks off. But now I got this garage floor to clean; what’s that about?”

“I’ll do it!” Gila said, and sprang into action while forgetting to put his cock away. The little thing waggled outside his briefs. He went for the paper shop towels and George interrupted him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” George tutted. In his mildly amused arousal, the sock hanging from his lap didn’t get harder, just bigger. “Lick it up.”

“Y-yessir,” Gila said, then blushed hot when he realized what he’d called his husband. And he knew exactly what George was gonna say.

“‘Sir’s’ my father, and I’m no knight. Just ‘George’ will do.”

“Yes, yes,” Gila sighed, then got on his hands and knees. His premature squirtings had drawn the map of a river basin, with several rivulets and tributaries. He started at the head of one stream and dragged his tongue all the way down to the end, gulping along the way. His seed was a lovely combo of salty and musky, and he noticed that the more he prostrated himself, the harder George’s sock got.

Gila made sure to spread his legs and clean directly perpendicular to his husband so the gecko could either watch the cat’s submissive head lick up his own cum, or watch his briefed butt and bulge wiggle as he scooted. His limp penis hung cutely out of his fly, a warm sensitive nub of his body. When he had one river left, the cat looked up again.

George had pulled his shirt up and was stroking his belly with one paw. The other paw was tugging his length, now completely hard, inside the stretched sleeve. Gila paused and watched, and it wasn’t two seconds later that the gecko lurched, fell back against his truck, and squirted generous ropes through the fabric, splatting all over the previously-cleaned floor.

“Ooof, oh yeah,” George panted. “Uh, get those too, if you could.”

Gila, his raspy tongue painted white, lisped, “You bith!” and they both laughed.

There was an ebb and flow to their bathroom-related eroticism. There was the occasional soiled diaper and soaked Briefie™, and they even got into a new type of underwear—Wixx—that had superior drying capabilities for watersports shenanigans. The user would only briefly feel the moist cling of peed undies, and then it would be gone while leaving a musky scent. George, while mowing the lawn, or Gila, while cleaning the house, would just let their bladder go, and the golden stream would pour in front of them as they walked, attractively following the swing of their hips. The mop became a popular tool for inside accidents; there were a couple of times in which one would catch the other from behind, hold him in place, then nibble their cheek sensually while whispering,

“Pee your pants.”

The other would release right there, softly moaning as their crotch grew dark and traveled to the insides of the legs, puddling around their feet. Sometimes their groin would be groped mid-piss, and other times their urinating member would be pulled out of their pants and undies. Their partner would swing the organ around, flinging pee everywhere, as they received a lusty kiss.

Then they might fuck right there in the piss puddle. Depending on Gila’s mood, George might just find himself on the receiving end, with his soaked jeans and briefs around his knees while his husband spanked and penetrated him, calling him a “Big-Boy Pisspants” and having him lick up his accident.

They’d share a laugh when the dirty talk got weird, but sometimes, the mind-soothing degradation was a thrill. They had, after all, pledged themselves to the other.

Gila had recovered from his confusing, yet thrilling adventure at Bulge’s. The EdgyBoi™ briefs had come, and made him cum, at just the right/wrong time. The cat found himself reminiscing about these frisky undies at work one time, spending a little too much time staring at the packages in the men’s underwear section. The bulge and its beautiful poetry, that of vulnerability and of power both. It made his mouth water and his mind frolic.

“God, how gay are you?” chuckled Pall, leaning on a product cart. Gila turned around and saw that the jaguar was wearing Bulge’s brand under his pants; that lump was brand-new. It looked really nice on him; too bad he was straight. Jacko or Marv would have given him a great time. But Gila still had memories—almost a sexy trauma, if there was ever a thing—of Pall stretching his briefs with an uncontrollable void.

“Men are so lovely,” Gila sing-songed, staring at the shelves. Each one had an attractive male only wearing the underwear in question. It was so gorgeously honest.

“You coming onto me?” asked Pall.

The cat rolled his eyes. It was the first question an insecure, straight man would ask.

“You are aesthetically fairly pleasant,” said Gila, “but you’re also an asshole. I would not give myself to someone who would then hold it over me.”

Pall scoffed. “You know you’re sprung, right?”

Gila looked down and gasped; his khaki pants did indeed have one prominent pleat at the front. “Oh geez,” the cat gasped, blushing as he turned away from Pall and slipped a paw in his pocket to fix himself. He slipped his hard dick up and diagonal, tucking it into the side of his briefs.

“You know there’s better porn on the internet.”

Gila grumbled. “That’s not the point; these men aren’t … they look comfy.”

“Oh yeah,” Pall snarked, walking away. “Wanna get real comfy with them.”

“Haven’t you got some pants to shit?” snapped Gila.

The jaguar chuckled. “Hell yeah, sure. Let’s bust open a pack right now.”

“Then the Praetorians put us in diapers and a work rehab program. Y’know how hard it’d be talking to customers around pacifiers?”

“Sounds hot,” said Pall, then left to finish his duties.

Gila turned back to the packages of briefs, boxer-briefs, bikinis, and jocks. Honestly, he thought, looking at these men in their comfortable underwear, with their comfortable smiles, that this was his love: a man both vulnerable and strong, who wasn’t performing graphic acts to shock him into arousal, but to soothe him into relaxed yearning.

That was the beauty of the male bulge: everything was contained and supported, but it wasn’t hidden: everyone knew what lay behind that layer of cotton, and it was an intimate act of trust to give that view to someone else.

Still swooning, Gila wobbled back to work, but made a note to visit Bulge’s on the way home. When he stopped by the mall, the storefront was now replaced by black glass doors, and neon lights indicating they were open, and that this was an 18+ area. A Praetorian hovered suspiciously in proximity of the venue; when Gila got closer he saw that it was Camaren Stevies the buff panda.

“Gila!” called out the diaper cop. “How’s it hanging, buddy?”

The cat received his fist bump and smirked. “Heavy but concealed and scentless.”

The panda perked up. “Oh! What brand? Your pants are super flat—”

“I was just making a joke. Did, um, Bulge’s get a facelift?” Gila asked, tossing a thumb in the store’s direction.

Camaren grinned. “Why don’t you find out? That’s where you were headed, right?”

The cat folded his arms. “And I ‘Prae’ they adhere to the Stupid Laws?”

“Statute against Public Indecency? Well, I’m making sure. Mister Jimprincess tried to take his break while—actually, I’ll just let you find out.”

Gila sighed, though the 18+ on the door, combined with his recent meditation on men and their lovely bulges, gave his own private lump a stir. The cat pushed through the front doors and found a beaded curtain, beyond which indistinct and catchy club music thumped. He ducked through the partition, and saw Marv behind the cashier counter. All seemed pretty normal, but then Jacko called his name from the back and sashayed out.

“Gila, baybee! How’s my little edgy boi?” Jacko cried out. The athletic tabby cat wore the same handsome polo shirt he did yesterday, but above his white crew socks, his legs were bare. Gila’s throat tightened, as did his briefs. Jacko brazenly wore an attractive white bikini that lifted his healthy lump, and the pouch moved with his thighs as he walked. The fabric was elegantly tight, coyly hinting at the separation of his sac and the soft tube above it, and its tip showed the kiss of Jacko’s foreskin.

“Heh,” said Gila, blushing as the bright white bulge drew his eyes. The tuxedo cat felt almost a decade younger, to a time where his teenage hormones made him a powder keg of sudden erections. “I see the store’s made a few updates.”

There were a lot of customers in the store as well, and staff members that Gila hadn’t yet met. Marv had stepped out from behind the counter, and of course he was bottomless except for a gray jockstrap that hung and wobbled healthily between his legs. Half of the customers were similarly bottomless, and all the employees wore gorgeous underwear that accentuated their endowments, which ranged from humble stocking suffers to magnanimous windfalls. Some employees and some customers also sported half-tents, stocking and shopping as their cocks, beautiful one and all, filled out their undies.

Bulges were walking past Gila to and fro, making the cat break into a sweat. His balls tingled and his shaft strained beneath his khakis, blatantly tenting them. It wouldn’t even be sexual harassment if Marv pulled his pants down again; it’d be dress code.

“Yeah, it’s fantastic,” Gila stammered.

“As you can see, this is a bottomless store, so if you feel more comfy in your undies—or our undies, especially—please check your pants into a locker for a more relaxed shopping experience. It’s okay to pop a stiffie, but no tuggies! And we still have our old dressing room—that will remain smelling good—”

Gila jumped. He’d forgotten about his time in the dressing room, gasping as he fought to contain a hard dung python that ultimately thrust into his undies.

“Hey, you’re the last one that pooped yourself,” the cat snapped.

“God, that was a wonderful day,” Jacko mused. “We neglect the man-ass so often; perhaps that’s its form of protest. Anyway, we also have a communal dressing room where you can be men with other men and change in their invigorating presence. But again, stiffies-no-tuggies.”

The cat blushed, and didn’t realize he was stripping until his pants were looped over his arm and his tented briefs were sticking out in the open.

“Good boy!” Jacko cheered, clapping. “Do you want me to take your pants?”

“I won’t be here for long,” said Gila.

The tabby grinned. “Really quick like last time?” he snarked.

The cat smirked. “In-and-out, just for what I need.”

A slim, athletic dragon wearing a polo and a rather burdened set of low-cut green briefs came up next to Jacko and looped an arm around him. The two males’ hips turned toward each other, putting their lumps in dangerous proximity. This made Gila bite his lip as his cock jolted, darkening his undies with pre. This was an infuriatingly sexy store.

“Have you sir been helped?” asked the dragon.

“I’ve just been given the tour,” said Gila.

“Uuuuuuuuuunnnnh,” a moan came from somewhere. Several employees and customers clapped and shouted, “Aaaaayyyyyy!”

The cat’s ears snapped up. “Hey, I thought you said no tuggies!”

Jacko and the dragon laughed. The dragon simply flicked his hand to a location behind Gila. The cat turned around and the lump in his throat returned. Before him stood an excellently molded mannequin: he had a generic, strong-slim build with a naturally interchangeable head. His nipples were well-defined, and as Gila looked down, his eyes locked upon yet another exquisite male form. The mannequin not only wore a pair of Bulge’s product, but Gila could tell by the silhouette of the fabric that it wasn’t just a molded dome, but anatomically correct gonads. The fabric of the brief’s pouch was worn—unsurprising, considering the store’s focus—and when the cat reached to tug down the waistband, the statue moaned and the store roared, again, in fraternal friskiness.

Gila’s ears folded as he turned around to an applauding audience. “God fucking damnit,” he laughed, blushing fiercely. “So, um, are the genitals interchangeable as well?”

“We do accommodate all shapes and sizes,” grinned the tabby, moving forward. The well-endowed dragon followed, and the two stood on either side of Gila, putting their lumps near the cat’s protrusion. Gila almost melted, sizzling beneath the surface of his skin.

Jacko put his muzzle up to Gila’s ear. He had to stand on tip-toe, which rubbed a warm pouch against the cat’s side. “So how can we serve your bulge?” he purred.

“G-guh!” the cat shivered, his toes curling in his shoes as the entire tip of his briefs went dark with pre. The moist heat caressed his member, and he felt the dragon’s large pouch brush against his other hip. “I-I thought you said no tuggies!”

Jacko’s lump was looking bigger. “We’re more than understanding if one of our best customers has an … accident … in the store,” the tabby purred.

Gila’s heart raced and he throbbed in his briefs. Both males coyly leaned against their customer, and played aloof as their pouches began to swell. The two clerks led Gila away from the main aisle and towards a waist-high shelf.

“I-I-I’m married!” hissed Gila, then broke away from the two. “Do you have EdgyBoi™ in Large?”

Jacko and the dragon pouted. “Now you just make us jealous.”

“You should be. Now sell me my damn undies.”

Gila got out of the store with his chastity intact, with his dignity pent-up and tucked into his waistband. He immediately got on the phone.

“Hon, I think maybe we should start ordering online.”

“What happened at the store?”

Gila rolled his eyes. “It’s really sexy now. You can just walk around in your undies.”

“That sounds, hmm. Attractive, but I’d be concerned that level people might shy away.”

“I think it’s the professionalism. Jacko came onto me, as well as one of his other boyfriends.”

“You okay?” asked George.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It just teeters between a boutique and a porn store.”

“They could get in legal trouble for that, couldn’t they? Flirt with the wrong customer, bam, lawsuit?”

“I might actually shoot him a text,” said Gila. “That’s a good thought. Bought you something.”

There was a smile in George’s voice. “Can’t wait to try it.”