Tank & Spank: A Dungeon Haremlit, page 1
Tank & Spank
A DUNGEON HAREMLIT
MAID IN AMERICA
BOOK ONE
J. VILLA
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Also by J. Villa
Chapter 1
Isat hunched over my cluttered desk, drowning in a sea of paperwork. The monotonous scratch of my pen against paper was the only sound in my cramped apartment.
A sharp knock at the door jolted me from my mind-numbing task.
“Coming!” I called out, stretching as I stood.
I yanked open the door to find a mail carrier holding out a thick cream-colored envelope.
“Special delivery for Jack Mercer,” he said with a bored expression.
“That’s me,” I replied, taking the weighty envelope.
As the carrier trudged away, I examined the unfamiliar crest embossed in red wax on the seal. My pulse quickened as I hefted the substantial package.
“What the hell?” I muttered, shutting the door.
With my letter opener clutched in a firm grip, I fumbled a bit, the sharp edge accidentally slicing across my finger. A quick flare of pain shot up my hand but I didn’t flinch.
Unfazed, I turned back to the envelope and slid its contents out: a sheet of elegant parchment. Ignoring the lingering sting on my finger, I unfolded it with steady hands and started reading the smooth script etched onto it.
“Dear Mr. Mercer,
We regret to inform you of the passing of your great-grandfather, Alistair Aetherfall...”
My eyes widened. “Great-grandfather? I didn’t even know I had one of those.”
I skimmed further down.
“...bequeathed to you the entirety of Aetherfall Manor and its grounds...”
“Holy shit,” I breathed, sinking into my chair.
My mind reeled as I tried to process this bombshell. An inheritance? A freaking manor? It had to be a mistake.
But as I re-read the letter, detailing the vast estate and its storied history, a spark of excitement ignited in my chest. This was real. I, Jack Mercer - cube farm drone operator and occasional gym rat - had just inherited a goddamn manor.
“Looks like your luck’s changing, Jackie boy,” I said with a grin, picturing the sprawling grounds and hidden passages described in the letter.
My apartment suddenly felt suffocating.
I needed air. I needed to think.
Most of all, I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.
I paced my cramped apartment, letter clutched tight, mind racing. The walls seemed to close in as I fought the urge to bolt right then and there.
“Get it together, Jack,” I muttered. “Think this through.”
But the more I thought about Aetherfall Manor, the more intrigued I became. An entire estate, mine for the taking. A fresh start. Adventure. Maybe even...
“Nah, don’t even go there,” I chuckled, shaking off visions of scantily-clad maids.
Old habits die hard.
I flopped onto my beat-up couch, staring at the ceiling. “What would Leeroy Jenkins do?”
The answer hit me. He’d go.
He’d leap into the unknown, consequences be damned.
“Fuck it,” I declared, jumping to my feet.
I settled down with my laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the quiet room. My fingers began their dance across the keyboard, typing in “Aetherfall Manor history” into the search bar. The familiar logo of Google greeted me, promising answers. I hit enter and waited.
The loading circle spun around for a moment before presenting me with a list of results. But as I skimmed through them, my heart sank. There were articles about other manors, historical sites in general, even a recipe for something called ‘Aetherfall Apple Pie’, but nothing substantial about Aetherfall Manor itself. The place was real.
I refined my search parameters - “Aetherfall Manor secrets”, “Aetherfall disappearances”, “Arcane rituals at Aetherfall” - but each time, Google returned an empty-handed shrug. My excitement was slowly replaced by a creeping sense of unease.
What was this place that had no digital footprint? That seemed to exist outside of internet’s all-seeing eye? Was I diving into something far deeper and darker than I had anticipated?
I glanced at my reflection in the darkened window. The Jack staring back looked... different.
Determined. Ready.
The next morning, I steeled myself and called my best friend, Mike. His reaction was...less than enthusiastic.
“You’re doing what?” Mike’s voice crackled through the phone. “Jack, buddy, this sounds sketchy as fuck.”
I sighed, pacing my cramped kitchen. “I know it sounds crazy, but-“
“Crazy? It’s batshit insane!” Mike cut me off. “Some random letter shows up and suddenly you’re inheriting a spooky manor? This ain’t Scooby-Doo, man.”
“Look,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, “I’ve done my research. This place is real! Not a lot of info on it, but legit nontheless.”
“Yeah, legitimately haunted probably,” Mike scoffed. “What if it’s a trap?”
I laughed, but it sounded hollow even to my ears. “A trap? C’mon, who’d want to trap me?”
“I dunno, maybe that guy you pissed off at the gym last week?” Mike suggested. “Or your ex?”
“She’s not that vindictive,” I protested, though a small part of me wondered.
Mike’s tone softened. “Just... be careful, alright? This whole thing sounds weird.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “I will. Thanks for looking out, man.”
After hanging up, I stood there, doubt gnawing at my gut. Was I making a huge mistake?
I shook off the doubts and hit the road. The city faded in my rearview, replaced by rolling hills and towering pines. My thoughts drifted as I drove, the steady hum of tires on asphalt a soothing backdrop.
“Damn, this is some Misty Mountains shit,” I muttered, taking in the misty mountains looming ahead.
The scenery was breathtaking, but my mind kept circling back to what awaited me.
A twinge of pain shot through my shoulder - an old injury acting up. I grimaced, embracing the ache. It grounded me, reminded me of who I was. Jack Mercer, the guy who could take a hit and keep going. Mind over matter.
Hours passed. Shadows casted along the winding road as the sun lowered.
That’s when I saw it - a massive wrought-iron gate, intricate designs twisting through the metal.
My heart pounded as I pulled up.
This was it. No turning back now.
I stepped out. The gate loomed over me, ivy crawling up its ancient pillars. I was on edge but kept my resolve.
“Let’s see what’s up,” I muttered, pushing against the cold iron.
The gate swung open with a mournful creak. I took a deep breath, the air heavy with the scent of moss and old stone.
Aetherfall Manor stood before me, a dark silhouette against the twilight sky. Its windows gleamed like hungry eyes, watching my approach.
Whatever waited inside, I was ready to face it head-on.
Chapter 2
Aetherfall Manor loomed before me like something out of a gothic horror flick. Towering spires stabbed at the gloomy sky. Arched windows glared down, and creepy-ass gargoyles leered from every corner. The whole place oozed old money and dark secrets.
“Well, this is definitely not the Hilton,” I muttered.
I made my way towards the mansion. Weeds choked the overgrown gardens, and a crumbling fountain stood bone-dry in the courtyard. But even under all the decay, I could see hints of the place’s former glory.
My inherited digs. Fan-freaking-tastic.
I tried to wrap my head around it all. “Alright Mercer, you’ve dealt with worse. Probably.”
The wind picked up, rustling dead leaves. “At least there’s no creepy old butler to greet me. That would be way too cliché.”
As I neared the front steps, something caught my eye. Beneath the grime and neglect, intricate carvings adorned the stone walls. My fingers traced the strange symbols, a tingle running down my spine.
“Huh. Guess great-great-grandpappy was into some weird shit.” I chuckled nervously. “Hope this place isn’t haunted. I did not sign up for Exorcist: The Home Game.”
The massive front doors loomed before me, weathered oak with iron knockers shaped like snarling beasts. I gripped the cold metal, heart pounding.
The knock echoed through the empty grou
“Hello? Anybody home?” I called out, feeling like an idiot. “Just your friendly neighborhood heir, coming to claim his creepy-ass mansion!”
No answer. Of course.
I grabbed the handle and pushed. The door creaked open with surprising ease, revealing a dim interior.
“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” I muttered, peering into the gloom. “Guess I’ll just let myself in then.”
As my eyes adjusted, I whistled low.
The entrance hall was massive, with a sweeping staircase and dusty chandeliers. Faded portraits lined the walls, stern-faced ancestors glaring down at me.
“Hey there, family,” I said, giving them a mock salute. “Don’t worry, I’ll try not to shame the Mercer name too much.”
My footsteps echoed on the marble floor as I explored. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, like the place had been frozen in time.
“Man, I guess I’ll tell it to the cleaning lady on Monday,” I quipped to no one.
But as I moved deeper into the manor, that prickle of unease returned. Something about this place felt... off.
Like it was watching me.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Get it together, Jack. It’s just an old house. A really big, really creepy old house that you now own. No biggie.”
A sudden gust of wind slammed the front door shut, making me jump. “Jesus!” I yelped, my heart racing.
Dark clouds rolled in outside, blocking what little light was filtering through the grimy windows. The temperature seemed to drop, and I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter.
“Great. Looks like I picked a hell of a day for house hunting,” I grumbled, trying to mask my growing unease with sarcasm.
A faint sound caught my attention - barely audible, but definitely there. I strained my ears, trying to pinpoint its source.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice echoing through the cavernous space. “Anyone home? Besides the dust bunnies and my crippling self-doubt, I mean.”
The noise came again - a low, rhythmic creaking. It seemed to be coming from deeper within the manor.
Part of me wanted to bolt, but curiosity won out. I mean, what kind of man would I be if I ran from a few creepy noises?
“Alright, haunted house,” I said quietly, preparing for what lay ahead.
I moved cautiously towards the sound, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The portraits seemed to follow me with their eyes, judging my every move.
“Easy there, ancestors,” I quipped nervously. “I know I’m not the strapping heir you were hoping for, but cut a guy some slack.”
The creaking grew louder as I approached a closed door at the end of the hallway. My hand hesitated on the doorknob, a mix of excitement and dread coursing through me.
The door swung open with a groan, revealing... nothing. Just an empty room, dusty and forgotten. The creaking sound had stopped.
“Well, that’s anticlimactic,” I muttered, disappointment mingling with relief.
As I turned to leave, my foot caught on a loose floorboard. I stumbled, catching myself on the doorframe. The floorboard shifted, revealing a glint of metal beneath.
“Hello, what’s this?” I crouched down, curiosity piqued.
My fingers brushed cool metal. I pried up the board, revealing an old, rusted key hidden beneath. Its antique design spoke of age and secrets.
“Jackpot,” I grinned, hefting the key. It was heavier than I expected, solid and real in my hand. “Now, what do you unlock, my mysterious friend?”
I stood, examining the key closely. Intricate patterns adorned its surface, worn but still visible. My mind raced with possibilities.
“Perhaps this key opens up a room full of riches,” I speculated, my voice echoing in the silent space. “Or maybe it leads to a hidden corridor filled with alluring mythical creatures. A man can hope, can’t he?” With that thought, I tucked the key into my pocket and turned around.
Instead of heading back to the entrance, I decided to try one of the nearby doors leading into the main house. The massive oak door towered over me, its iron handles staring down like stern sentinels.
“Alright then,” I muttered to the imposing structure as I fumbled for the key. “Let’s see if we’re compatible.”
I sucked in a deep breath, attempting to calm my racing heart. “Here goes nothing.”
The key slid into the lock seamlessly, as if it was made specifically for this door. As I twisted it around, I heard the satisfying sound of metal scraping against metal and then a distinct click.
“How about that,” I exhaled sharply as the door groaned open reluctantly. “I’m in.”
Chapter 3
Istepped into the Grand Hall, my footsteps echoing off the cold marble floor. Holy shit, this place was massive. The ceiling soared so high I had to crane my neck to see the dusty chandeliers dangling precariously overhead. Cobwebs clung to every corner and surface, giving the whole room a ghostly vibe.
“Well, this is cozy,” I muttered to myself. The stained glass windows filtered the afternoon light into a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the walls. It was kinda beautiful, in a creepy haunted mansion sort of way.
As I wandered deeper into the hall, my eyes were drawn to a series of portraits lining the walls. Stern-faced dudes in fancy old-timey outfits glared down at me. My ancestors, I guess. And, of course, their eyes seemed to move as if they were watching me.
“Easy there, judgey McJudgersons,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “I know I’m not exactly lord of the manor material.”
My eyes meandered to the dusty, leather-bound diary nestled among the myriad oddities within the glass cases and shelves. They were overflowing with enigmatic artifacts - gem-encrusted daggers, aged tomes with cryptic symbols and even a grotesque shrunken head. Each object seemed to murmur tales of hidden truths and thrilling exploits.
I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. “Well, old man, you sure had a taste for the macabre.”
A sharp sting pierced through my skull, causing me to grimace. An old rotator cuff injury acting up again. I gritted my teeth and suppressed it; there was no room for distractions right now.
Curiosity piqued, I moved closer to inspect the diary. The worn pages hinted at a history steeped in mystery. As I leaned over the case, my reflection glimmered back at me from the polished glass surface. There was an unfamiliar hardness in my features - a sharper jawline, broader shoulders.
“Not too shabby, Mercer,” I grinned at my mirrored image. “Maybe this inheritance won’t be so bad.”
But as I continued to study myself in the reflection, uncertainty began to gnaw at me.
What on earth was I doing here? Just an average guy from nowhere special suddenly thrust into this world of arcane mysteries and ancient relics. How was I expected to be master of all... this?
I shook my head, trying to clear the doubts away. “Get it together, man.”
My eyes landed on a particularly grim-looking portrait. The dude in it had piercing eyes that seemed to stare right into my soul. A shiver ran down my spine.
“Alright Grandpa Creepy, I get it,” I muttered. “Big shoes to fill and all that jazz. I’ll do my best not to fuck it up too bad.”
With a deep breath, I strode deeper into the hall. Time to see what other secrets this place was hiding. And maybe find out why the hell I was chosen for all this in the first place.
I turned a corner and BAM - nearly slammed right into a chick decked out like she’d stepped off the set of Downton Abbey. My heart did a little jump.
“Whoa there!” I exclaimed, catching myself. “Didn’t see you coming.”
Her eyes widened, but she composed herself quick. “My apologies, sir. I’m Scarlett Lawson, the manor’s caretaker.”
Caretaker? She was obviously bad at her job.
I gave her a once-over.
Damn, Victorian style maid really worked for her. All curves and corsets. My mind started wandering places it shouldn’t.
“Jack Mercer,” I said, extending my hand. “New owner, I guess. Still wrapping my head around that one.”
She took my hand with a firm grip. “Pleasure, Mr. Mercer. Hope you’re findin’ everything... satisfactory?”
Her accent was of strong texan descent.
