The Mix-Up Ch. 01

She flipped her long blonde curls over her shoulder, her hair cascading down her dark leather jacket. She sighed once, and upon not seeing any effect, then again louder. Another irritated person in the lengthy line cleared their throat for a second time.

The pharmacist was a thin man with unkempt hair obscuring his thick glasses. He looked up amidst his frantic scribbling to linger on the girl before him for a moment. She wore a tight skirt that revealed more than a hint of her teen thighs. She reminded him of the girls in the oft-perused, seldom purchased SI swimsuit magazines on the store's magazine rack.

"Er, yes miss, may I help you?"

She nodded and handed him a prescription form, rapping the counter with her manicured nails. His eyes scanned the paper. Taryn Addington. Age 19. A prescription for birth control. The pharmacist scarcely had time to register what he'd read before a voice boomed behind the girl.

"Where's your manager? I've been waiting here twenty minutes, and the line hasn't moved at all!" Several people murmured in agreement. A heavyset woman behind Taryn squinted at the pharmacist's name tag.

"Cut Gary some slack. He's doing the best he can. But picking up the pace would be nice."

Sweat beaded on Gary's forehead. The truth was his manager came down sick in the pandemic, leaving him on his own. His glasses began fogging up as he hustled to the back.

The chorus of angry customers grew louder.

"Gary, where's your manager?"

"I demand to see the manager right now!"

"My daughter's sick - we need our prescription now!"

All the while, Taryn's red fingernails drummed against the counter. Gary's heart began pounding in his chest. He wiped sweat from his forehead. "Please people, I'm doing the best I can!"

"Oh, he's showing attitude now?"

"The pharmacy association number is right here. Let's call so Gary can get the recognition he deserves. Worst pharmacist in Little Rock!"

"You mean the whole state!"

Gary's glasses fogged so much he could barely see, and he blindly grabbed where the birth control usually was, quickly scanning the barcode, his mind on the furious line. His last sight of Taryn was of the smirk of annoyance on her youthful face before the line rushed toward him in anger.

Within minutes, Taryn was speeding through downtown Little Rock, checking her phone and paying just enough attention to stop at stoplights. Her 2003 Civic didn't turn heads, except for the occasional squealing brake pad, but this trip would hopefully bring a change in fortune.

She noticed a man staring at her from the next lane. She looked back at her phone, hoping that the all too familiar occurrence wouldn't happen. She rolled her eyes and suppressed a laugh at the sound of his car window descending.

"Where you headed? You're a pretty little thing," he said. Judging by the haggard lines on his face, he had to be at least sixty. She mouthed to him that she was only nineteen. And not feeling the need to justify herself further to a stranger, Taryn was relieved to see the stoplight turn green, leaving the man squinting at her blonde hair blowing out the window.

She passed Kilwin's ice cream shop, where last year the homecoming court was supposed to go after the spring dance. They'd gone to the river instead, breaking a few rules late into the night. It was only a year ago, but it felt so much longer. She smiled, looking at the excited faces against the glass peering at the ice cream.

Life had just been strange over the last year. Despite being the mature one in her friend group and reminding them to send in their college applications or apply for jobs, somehow, she felt like she'd been the one left behind. It had become an unintentional gap year, starting with the pandemic restrictions hitting the week before she was to fly to NYC to meet with several modeling agencies. Arkansas quickly was labeled a hotspot, and travel from the state required a two-week quarantine. Not something Taryn and her limited budget could afford. Her smile faded at the thought.

She snapped out of it, realizing that she'd arrived at the Clinton Presidential Library. Smoothing her skirt and making sure her lipstick was immaculate as usual, the blonde whispered a prayer. This prayer was different than usual. Her normal prayers were for other people, their safety, health, or well-being. This was for herself.

A few weeks prior, she received an email from Ford Models requesting a meeting. She was blown away, first from being unsure if her portfolio had even made it into the right hands, and secondly, it was Ford Models! She drove around her neighborhood for a solid hour to even remotely calm down, checking the message over and over to see if it was a prank. The thought crossed her mind that with a good interview, she could replace her crappy car!

Taryn knew she was extremely attractive. She'd won Homecoming Queen and Prom Queen unanimously, and no one batted an eye when she planned to give modeling a shot. It made sense for a girl of her rare beauty.

The constant attention from men did have its downsides. Everywhere she went, men stared at her brazenly. This included married neighbors, classmates, and even teachers. It created a world of constant paranoia for Taryn, not that staring itself was so bad, but because she questioned everyone's motives. Like, was her dad's sweet friend at the park staring at her fondly or thinking dirty thoughts?

Her youth and genetics gifted her with a body that seemed arrogant. Arrogant in the sense her long legs and thin waist alone garnered the envy of all the city's women; her dark eyes and heavy breasts elevated her to a true sight difficult to not gawk at. If there was a genetic lottery, Taryn won the biggest prize.

The interview process went by in a flash. Instantly put at ease by the agency's gregarious British representative, all of Taryn's fears of potential rejection evaporated. She passed her picture portfolio across the table and waited. It wasn't missed by Taryn the rep asked how many other agencies had contacted her - the rep wanted her signature the same day.

"I'm going to square with you Ms. Addington," his accent keeping her complete attention.

"Taryn," she said, with an easy smile.

"Taryn, this was the last place I'd expected to find real talent, but here you are. You have the look for our summer clients, so..."

"This is where you offer me a huge contract?' Taryn joked. She crossed her legs so her skirt rose slightly up her tanned thighs.

"This is where I offer a contract, yes. $200,000 to sign right now and work for us in two weeks. Do you think you can work on your tan in the meantime?" And with that, Taryn signed her name, a huge smile plastered on her face.

The next day, she took her pill and washed it down with water. It hadn't been her idea to start taking birth control - it wasn't like she hooked up a lot or expected to. But cramps ruined days, and she couldn't afford it. Taryn tossed her curls over one shoulder and gazed at all the swimsuit options in her closet. I better start working on my tan, she thought.

Elated since she signed her contract, she knew it was time to start getting ready. She even managed to not tell friends or family, feeling that it would jinx her recent good fortune. It didn't seem real...

She found a black bikini with cute string ties and put it on, admiring her flat stomach in the mirror. It was a celebratory purchase, and a bit skimpier than she was used to. But it was expensive and fit her perfectly, and she loved the smooth fabric. It felt like it wasn't there. Her belly button piercing bobbed as she kicked her feet into her sandals. She knew when she got to the apartment pool, she'd attract all the male attention there. She was used to it. With daydreams of her upcoming photoshoot dancing around her head, she left her room, purse, and phone in hand.

The blonde entered the pool complex, a long expanse surrounded by lounge chairs and buffeted by rock music. It wasn't hard to find an empty lounger, but many neighboring lounge chairs by Taryn quickly filled - mostly by men who couldn't stand their wives and were transfixed by the teen's athletic body. She looked up to see a 70-year-old man stop talking to his wife, his eyes bulging as he stared in Taryn's direction. He looked like he might have a heart attack. Men. So predictable.

She rubbed a bit of sunscreen on her legs, careful to spread it evenly, the thought of an uneven tan the current horror of her life. She eyed the others around her - a few college-age guys in the water with beers in their hands, their girlfriends on loungers of their own. The guys cast occasional glances Taryn's way which she didn't acknowledge.

Nearby inside the apartment gym, Lester Burns wiped sweat off his face, each finger as fat as a hotdog. His sopping forehead was smudged with the grease of the treadmill he was servicing. The fat handyman cursed under his breath as gymgoers pounded the treadmills on either side of him. The machine he worked on had been a pain in his ass all summer long, repeatedly breaking down and requiring constant servicing. Squatting his thick body to the intricate mechanical underbelly of the machine was no easy task for Lester, who took every opportunity to stare outside the window at the pool and its female complement.

Lester despised the fit men who worked out all around him, thinking they were lazy and rubbing their fitness in his face by using the machines he serviced. Calling them all Soy Boys, he took particular joy in hollering at them.

"Off off! Git! Go to another machine!" Lester yelled. "I need some space to work." Sweat soaked his ratty handyman uniform. It was tough enough just to bend down to service the machine at his size, let alone near some soy drinking yuppies shoving it in his face. He shuffled by the scale earlier that day and saw its limit was 300 pounds. Lester was one and a half of that, maybe 400, and he didn't feel the need to find his exact weight by breaking the scale and having to fix or replace anything else in the gym.

The two young men shot him nasty glares, but Lester's face had scared off far more intimidating people than a couple buck 40 losers. Being fat and hard to look at hadn't been easy for Lester, whose most intimate relationships were fantasies with the ladies in his trashy porn magazines. A spark shocked his hand, and he slapped the treadmill so loud his hand hurt.

"Goddammit this piece of shit won't ever get fixed! Made in China my ass." He threw a grease-soaked rag toward a hamper and missed, with it slapping the ground in a sick splat. He gazed down at his list of several things to fix.

Being a new apartment, it'd be easy to assume everything glistened and worked well, but management spent most of its money on the fancy pool lounge to impress potential guests, leaving Lester full of work. Or as he called it "bullshit." He'd fix the treadmill later.

The next item on his list was fixing a shorted fuse at one of the cabanas. Inside was a plain 40- or 50-year-old woman, nothing special, but Lester made sure to comb his hair back with a fat hand and clear his throat.

"Ma'am need to get by ya and fix this." Unmoving, he stared at her body until she scurried by, her perfume making Lester's cock surge. Just being around women did it for the horny old sod.

At that moment, the handyman saw Taryn on her lounge chair flat on her stomach. Her bikini covered just enough of her fit, youthful ass to not scandalize passerby. Her halter back top was little more than a string covering the soft bronzed skin of her back. Lester forgot about the shorted fuse.

"Holy Jesus an' Mary," he said, his jaw falling wide open.

He stared at her delicate foot which bobbed slightly to the music she listened to, each well-formed leg the finest he had ever seen. He retreated further back into the cabana. Blood surged to his cock in ways he hadn't felt since his twenties. Of course, Taryn had no clue of the lecherous pervert staring at her. The warm rays of the sun made her back feel great. Time to turn. The blonde rolled onto her back, adjusting the ties on each hip to not get tan lines.

Lester's eyes bulged as he stared at her belly button ring. The small metallic cross sat on her smooth stomach below her well-endowed chest. It wasn't just the heat making him sweat. It was this blonde! He'd seen fat girls with big boobs but never an athletic girl with such a pair. He wanted to disappear between them, licking and lapping then with his tongue as hungrily as he did his customary fried chicken dinner.

"Big fuckin' tits, must've been a boob job, ain't no way in hell those are real on a girl that size," he said to himself, rubbing his cock, or the area of it. It wasn't easy to find being 400 pounds. It often got lost between rolls of fat. He did the best he could to hide, but the cabana wasn't very big. An idea struck him. The light pole closest to Taryn's lounge chair had a broken bulb - all the reason for him to get as close as possible to her.

He went to get a ladder and returned to the pole, which was no more than ten feet from Taryn. As he set it up, his breathing labored, and sweat poured down his back. The August sun wasn't kind to men his size. Just as he climbed to the top of the ladder, he heard the metal ladder wheezing under his weight. Uh oh. He didn't dare move.

From his perch he could see the slightest sheen of sweat on her soft cleavage. Oh, to touch those beautiful jugs... "Mmm maybe her rack is real after all," he muttered, clenching a wrench and the ladder.

Meanwhile, Taryn glared in annoyance at the man casting the huge shadow on her. Her long legs were just beginning to feel the warm tingle of the sun until the interruption. She lowered her sunglasses and gasped. Dear god, he was disgusting. Flabby rolls of fat hung from each arm and his grey uniform clung to his huge frame, a literal sopping sponge of sweat. A breeze wafted his body odor into her nose. She cringed.

"Can't you see I'm tanning? Excuse me," she said, pulling her shapely legs off the chair.

Lester was so busy staring at her body he didn't realize she was talking to him.

"Excuse me," she repeated, glaring at him. The old boy didn't have any words he tried to speak. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Every bit of his focus was on those straps straining to contain her big tits. Lester finally snapped back to reality.

"Er—I gotta fix this light. You can, uh move to that chair," he said, pointing his wrench to one further down. It too was covered by the solar eclipse of Lester Burns. She scowled and picked up her things, walking toward the other end of the pool. Each step made her ass jiggle the slightest, and Lester's neck stretched to keep sight of her as he gripped the ladder for dear life.

The blonde was extraordinary! He stumbled down the suffering ladder and rushed to the closest supply closet, nearly barging through the wall. He'd barely shut the door before yanking his pants down to grab his little cock. It wasn't even visible below his huge hairy stomach. He grunted as he thought of the flawless teen he'd just seen.

"That fuckin' tease! She knows exactly what she's doing!" he muttered as he thought of her tight little body. His breathing grew deeper and deeper until he couldn't handle it anymore.

"Ahhhhh - AHHH!" His hands moved in a blur and he thrust his hips forward, her big breasts on his mind and thinking of pushing his cock between them, his dirty little prick nestled between her proud youthful tits.

All too soon his enormous sagging balls erupted, blowing his filthy seed all over a vacuum cleaner, leaving thick ropes oozing down its side. If there was one thing Lester was proud of, it was the prodigious amounts of cum he produced. At any time of day, the pervert could make a firehose blush. He didn't bother to clean it up, after all, that wasn't his job.

Lester needed to see more of the girl - he hadn't had such a good wank in years. Luckily, his job kept him around all the apartment's residents. It was only a matter of time before he saw Taryn again.

~~~~~

Meanwhile back at the pharmacy, Gary scratched his head. The wispy man was writing the records at the end of the week and the numbers weren't making sense. Maybe it was his tired brain. Days after, his heart had only just slowed from the frenetic crowd ready to take his head.

But where there should have been a birth control prescription written, there were estrogen pills missing. He'd been the only person back there all day.

Surely not.

Could he have grabbed the estrogen pills instead of the birth control? They were all in the same section, right next to one another. For a man who prided himself for his professionalism, he couldn't bear the thought. The thin nerd readjusted his glasses and studied the situation. Gary knew he'd be fired if he told his boss about the mix-up. But maybe he could contact the girl whose prescription he'd messed up. What was her name? he wondered. Tara...Terri... Taryn! Her phone number was right there in his records but calling her was against company policy. It could easily backfire on him. He'd seen the angry crowd and knew how little patience people had.

Estrogen wouldn't make a huge difference to a girl of her age, he reasoned. Maybe she'd get a bit bigger breasts and a higher sex drive. That didn't worry him. It was the fact she wouldn't be taking birth control, leaving her unaware and unprotected that left him stroking his forehead. The records showed her prescription was only for three months. But the likelihood of anything bad happening to her in 90 days seemed remote to Gary. When she came back in for a refill, he'd be sure to get it right, and not risk his job in the meantime by calling her or telling his boss. He'd have to just take his chances.

He exhaled, relieved. He leaned over the desk and forged the records to hide his mistake.

~~~~~

The next day Lester waddled to the apartment office and demanded the receptionist give him records of all the newest residents. The small, mouse looking woman looked away, being sure to breathe out of her mouth as his body odor entered the room before he did. He waited as she printed out the list, eating a donut and dropping glazing all over his stained, grubby work shirt. She handed him the paper, refusing to look at him. Lester eyed her a moment too long. If it wasn't for this mystery hot blonde, he would have given the receptionist a go.

"Thanks doll," he said, stuffing the rest of the donut in his mouth. There were only eleven names. He ruled out seven of them by being male and wondered which of them were Soy Boys. They weren't the pressing matter. Not one for detective work, Lester brushed the crumbs off his shirt and placed the list back before the receptionist. She recoiled at his sweaty odor, pulling her shirt over her nose.

"Which one is that new blonde? The one with the big t— err, big smile?" Lester asked, trying his best at a winning smile and instead showing his rotten, yellowed teeth. An awkward silence ensued. "She uh, told me her fan was broken," Lester lied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The receptionist coughed and pointed at the list. Technically she wasn't supposed to give out this information without approval from Lester's supervisor, but the smell was too ripe to follow that rule.

"Taryn Adding- ton, apartment 204," Lester mused. "Right by the hot tub." And with that, the big repairman lumbered out of the office with the information he needed.

~~~~~

In Apartment 204, Taryn washed down another pill as she got ready for the day. She was unusually chipper, not at all moody like she'd been told her birth control would make her. With her photoshoot only ten days away, the 19-year-old needed to use every day for tanning and working out. The blonde gazed out her window to see the repairman working over by the hot tub. He had been over there a few hours. His armpits were ringed with giant sweat stains, and it was only 10 AM.