Chapter 23: From Helicopters to HaloTits
Chapter 23: From Helicopters to HaloTits
[Ding!][1 Hijack Point Has Been Consumed]
Joe turned and stood facing the camera.
At the control desk, the producer slapped a palm to his forehead. "What the fuck... what is this old man gonna do now?" he muttered, half-panicked.
Meanwhile, Caleb nearly jumped out of his seat—not in shock, but in satisfaction, after typing something he thought was absolutely insane.
In the studio, Joe took a deep breath. With full, unshakable confidence, he reached for his belt buckle, then his zipper, and—without hesitation—pulled it down.
The metallic clink echoed through his mic, making several crew members stiffen.
Then he reached in and grabbed his limp, disgusting private dull blade.
Without a hint of shame, Joe began spinning it with his right hand—fast—forming circles like a helicopter rotor.
His lips curled into a smile, eyes glittering.
"A man who is sincere... must dare to show the symbol of his struggle!" he declared, his voice ringing with pride, as if this was the grand climax of his motivational speech.
Clara froze in her seat, mouth slightly agape.
The camera crew glanced at each other—one blinking rapidly, the other suppressing a fit of hysterical laughter.
The live chat detonated:
[💀💀💀💀💀]
[BRO IS DOING AIRSTRIKE MODE]
[Helicopter helicopter~ 🛩️]
[Peak boomer insanity]
Caleb lowered his head, shoulders trembling as he tried to hold in his laughter.
"Now even your son won’t call you father anymore... your daughter won’t dare introduce her boyfriend to a pathetic old fool like you, ahahahahaaa..." he muttered softly, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.
But before he could truly burst out, the phone screen suddenly cut to a vacuum cleaner commercial.
He paused for a moment, then let out a long breath, the curve returning to his lips.
A warm sense of satisfaction spread through his chest.
Caleb knew Joe’s ego well—the old man’s hunger for praise, attention, and public recognition.
"Spinning your dick like an airplane propeller is the way to show sincerity and a noble struggle?" he muttered, half laughing, half disgusted.
His smile widened.
Even something that stupid was enough to destroy that stupid old bastard... without me laying a finger on him.
Caleb stared at the black screen for a few seconds. His mind was turning. Would it continue?
He stayed still, then slowly stood up to grab a drink and took a sip, his thoughts returning to the chain of revenge.
Maya...
The name flashed like a spark. The woman who ruined his mother’s life.
Caleb let out a short chuckle. "She doesn’t deserve kindness, right, Mom?" he said, as if waiting for a reply—even though his mother had long been dead.
He smirked. "Her daughters... they deserve my evil too, right, Mom?" he asked again, with a tone as if his mother was still sitting right beside him.
Caleb took off his hoodie, sat back on the sofa without touching his phone, and stared at the ceiling with complete satisfaction, the smile on his face never fading. Dark fantasies began to spread in his mind.
"Slapping that old woman’s face with my dick and making her believe it’s common sense for respecting elders? Delightful."
He chuckled, even though he didn’t yet know what Maya looked like now, or how her four daughters looked—but his dick was already hard just from thinking about how many ways he could destroy them, from their dignity to their reputation, with just his fingertips.
A few moments later, he picked up his phone again, checked the time, and opened social media.
His fingers moved to open Twitlit. His feed was already full—not with regular news, but with clips of Joe twerking and spinning his dull blade like a propeller. The captions were wild, ranging from nothing but emojis to cutting remarks.
He switched to DuDugram. Same thing. Memes of Joe had already flooded the platform. Some had been turned into gifs, some edited with the "Helicopter Helicopter" song in the background.
Caleb frowned lightly—not from surprise, but because the speed of the internet reaction was shocking even to him.
Only ten minutes since the stream ended... he thought.
And the world was already starting to tear Joe apart alive.
Next... Caleb’s smile thinned into something sharper. I have to start with Sarah.
The bitch whose ass I accidentally grabbed.
"I’ll make her bend over and show her chocolate starfish, ahaha... hahahahahaaa..." Caleb muttered, his laughter erupting into the empty room.
He could already picture it—turning that humiliation into something "socially accepted," convincing Sarah that it was common sense, all while ripping away every last shred of dignity she had.
That image lingered in his mind like a spark falling onto a pile of dry wood, ready to ignite at any moment.
Caleb grabbed his phone again, his thumb moving quickly to open DuDugram.
He typed the name of his new target: Sarah Ravencourt.
The account appeared instantly in the search results—a profile full of narcissistic shots, sweet poses in expensive cafés, gala parties, and that fake smile Caleb knew all too well. He scrolled slowly... until his eyes caught one recent post.
Live at Halloween — tomorrow at 10 PM.
Caleb’s smile widened, his lips curling almost into a sneer. "Ahahaha... Halloween?" he whispered.
"How about... HaloTits?" He grinned. "Meheh... heheheee..." A maniacal laugh spilled from the man accused of being the ButtManiac.
That low laughter hung in the air, while in his mind a plan was already taking shape—one that had nothing to do with masks and pumpkins, but with breasts and bras.
Caleb glanced at the time on his phone screen. Still not too late. He let out a slow sigh—unsure what else to do.
In the end, he decided to take a shower. As he walked toward the bathroom, his thumb typed a message on DhatsUpp to Lucy—the milf who owned the flower shop he was now staying in.
Caleb: "Going to shower. Where’s the bath stuff, Aunt?"
The reply came quickly.
Lucy: "Check the small cabinet in the bathroom. And... don’t hesitate if you want to look at mine 😉."
Caleb frowned. Huh? Yours, Aunt? he thought.
He stared at the screen, his thumb typing a reply.
Caleb: "What do you mean... yours?"
The typing indicator dots appeared briefly before Lucy’s reply came in.
Lucy: "Just look in there."
Caleb raised an eyebrow. He stepped into the bathroom, took a relaxed breath, then opened the small cabinet door in the corner.
The door swung open... and his eyes landed on it immediately.
A black lace bra and matching panties, neatly hung on a small hanger, as if intentionally displayed to be seen.
Caleb stood still for a few seconds, then the corner of his lips curled slowly. That milf... really?
After looking at the lingerie for a few moments, Caleb simply let out a small chuckle, then closed the cabinet. He showered leisurely, letting the warm water wash over his mind full of plans. He used the clean toiletries that the milf seemed to rarely touch without hesitation, occasionally thinking, Damn, I’m getting harder, while washing his dick but not stroking it.
Fresh from the shower, he dropped onto the sofa. The warmth eased his muscles, and before long, fatigue dragged him into sleep.
The next morning, the ring of his phone woke him.
Lucy’s name appeared on the screen. Caleb frowned and swiped to answer.
"What is it? It’s still early... not even time for the shop to open, right? It’s too ear—"
His words cut off when Lucy’s voice interrupted quickly, sounding somewhat tense.
"Check the news."
Something in Lucy’s tone made his brows knit. Without a word, he opened the news app... and froze. His eyes widened—the headline slammed into his brain like a sledgehammer.
WHAT?