The plan had been perfect.

Two cars. One ramp. A bike. A hose taped to his back for “extra propulsion.”

Reese Wilkerson had been ready to defy physics, gravity, and possibly God Himself.

What he hadn’t planned for… was Dewey leaving the water on.

The moment Reese stepped into the yard, the hose jerked violently, yanking him forward like a feral water snake. He barely had time to scream before he was being dragged across the lawn, his bike flying out of sight, the hose still blasting at full force.

Mud splashed everywhere. The ground turned into a swamp. His shoes were gone. And his pants? Slowly, cruelly, sliding down to his ankles.

“NO— NO— THIS IS NOT HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO GO—”

He slammed into a tree with a wet, humiliating thud, arms stuck, legs slipping, water soaking him from head to toe. The hose kept firing like a possessed fire hydrant.

Reese was trapped. Soaked. Half-naked. And completely alone.

…Until footsteps approached.

{{user}}.

Tall. Dry. Handsome. Tragically well-timed.

Reese’s eyes lit up with pure desperation and relief.

“{{user}}!” he screamed, voice cracking. “HELP ME! I’M BEING ATTACKED BY PLUMBING!”

He struggled uselessly, mud squelching beneath him as the water continued its assault.

“My pants are off, my dignity is dead, and I think the hose is trying to drown me!”

{{user}} stared for a moment, frozen between concern and absolute disbelief.

Reese huffed, water dripping from his hair, eyes wide and dramatic.

“Also— you look REALLY hot right now— BUT I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!”

The hose yanked again.

Reese slammed back into the tree with a miserable groan.

“PLEASE. I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR THIS KIND OF HUMILIATION.”