The Mix-Up Ch. 03

"I'm thinking 6 months with good behavior."

"Bullshit. Guilty plea, he's out in a month with a slap on the wrist." Gary blinked back tears, unable to wipe those off that fell on his glasses in big splotchy drips.

"Who's going to feed my goldfish?" His question went unanswered as snickers from the front seat deepened to full-on belly laughs.

~~~~~

Back in Lester's RV, the giant squatted toward the sink, squeezing his man boobs in to wash off the gooey soap, now coursed with dirt and sweat.

"Oh, holy hell who made this crap for little people? It's like a damn Lego house!"

He'd long since given up trying to use the RV's shower. He figured its confined space was only big enough to fit a soy boy, or two of them, more like it. He'd turned it into a storage area for his Beanie Babies collection years ago, but a leak from a pipe swelled them up until they, like their owner, were bursting at the seams.

His boss would throw a fit and fire him if he showed up to work the next day such a filthy, sticky mess. Throwing a moth-eaten curtain on his huge frame, he drove his Chevette down to the local gas station, turning the wheel right to offset his weight dragging the car to the left. He shoved coins into the automatic carwash, including three tokens from an arcade he'd stolen years ago. He grinned. He'd outsmarted the capitalist bastards.

"Now here's a shower that'll fit, by God." It came to life, whirring and buzzing in modern efficiency only those capitalist bastards could have designed.

The red light turned yellow then green as the clock ticked down.

3...2...1.

"Bing!" Ice-cold water sprayed him like energetic sprinklers from hell, dousing his chest hair and bubbling the soapy mass on his chest.

"Ahh hell! Damn!"

Then the revolving blue brushes hit him, slapping his goosebumped skin and leaving a thousand little welts. They were, as far as he figured, also from hell.

"Fuckin' hell! Ow!" The conveyor inched forward and then jolted forward a foot, throwing Lester off his feet and rolling him onto his back. His tremendous impact rattled the lights on the ceiling. Thick squirts of soap splatted against his sides, seeping into his many folds and his mouth.

"Ughhh piesa' shtt!"

Water pounded him like an Arctic gale, spraying directly on his face and sending his patchy hair a thousand mismatched directions. He waved his arms desperately to activate the emergency stop, but the machine happily fulfilled its duty, arcade quarters or not. The conveyor spun him in circles as he tried to climb to his feet before it rudely dumped him out on the concrete. He shivered for a moment, but as he dabbed soapy water from his eyes with a used napkin, his skin felt like it'd been power washed. A menthol like tingling enveloped the parts of him untouched by soap and water for decades.

Lester Burns felt like a new man! He hadn't been this clean in forty years. Climbing in his Chevette, he slammed his foot down and the 53-horsepower engine chugged to life. The car whizzed under the glittering stars, the light reflecting off the coursing current of the Arkansas River. A plane thundered above the water from the nearby Clinton airport.

Gunning it, he channeled his inner Tom Cruise and shouted, taking a hand off the wheel. Only his soapy bare feet slipped on the brake pedal and got caught on the gas.

"Oh fuckin' hell, oh shit! Ahhh!"

His Chevette careened over the road, its tires blowing black smoke behind them. Dead ahead a feral hog stood on the highway, well it did, before it launched into the air, up and over Lester's car, smashing his fender. The airbag exploded outward, but hit Lester's hearty gut, and instantly popped. No worse for wear, the hearty creature ran into the woods, leaving Lester a dazed, soapy mess.

"You damn 'lil bugger, I'll get you!" he yelled.

~~~~~

A couple days later in downtown Little Rock, a yellow trolley car unloaded its passengers in front of the Flying Saucer, a tired brick restaurant with a hundred plates glued to its ceiling. Taryn gazed at those wandering away from the parked trolley car and wondered what life held next for them.

She yawned - she'd only been back in town two hours. She went to the pharmacy first thing and left seconds later. A tired looking manager who she didn't recognize had apologetically explained she needed another prescription to change her birth control.

Amy clanged her knife against her glass, loudly enough to draw eyes from other tables.

"As you know, I've always wanted to be a college girl--"

Taryn sat up. "Who has ever said that?"

"So, I got a letter today," she paused, with a smirk, "from Fayetteville..." The table erupted.

"No way!"

"Love you AP!"

"And the waiting list cleared up, so I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going to be a Razorback!" The girls whooped and closed around the beaming Amy, all smiles as they posed tightly for a photo.

"I'll miss all of you, some more than others," she said, rolling her eyes at Taryn. "The timing kinda sucks though - I think it's too late to rush."

"There is AD Pi."

Amy put a finger gun to her head.

"Fine. Where dorm are you staying in, Reid or Yocum?"

"T, where are YOU staying? You need to be worrying about your living situation! That was just nuts. Like, I was so over it. Did y'all hear about her stalker?"

Taryn kicked Amy under the table with her strappy black Alexander Wang heels, another gift from Mr. Redding and company. Her friend stuck her tongue out at her.

She shifted uncomfortably and smoothed her skirt. The watermelon vodka she pregamed warmed her throat and loosened her tongue, but something was off. The itch was back. It twisted in her core, a silent force, unseen by those around her. She squeezed her thighs together and crossed them, hoping the need would disappear. Her shapely legs drew the eye of guys at the next table. Their girls chatted happily, unaware their boyfriends were lusting over a girl completely out of their league.

The warmth surged inside her. She needed to get up and go on a walk. Anything to get her mind off her flickering lust. She froze hearing a familiar voice.

"'scuse me! 'scuse me! Come on already - I'm workin' here!"

She whipped her ponytail around to see Lester pushing both glass doors open to gain entry for his enormous frame. Like a bumper boat, he sent a little grey-haired grandma flying into nearby wooden benches. Turning away quickly, he waddled to the front desk.

"Online order for Mathis," he said, huffing and wiping his patchy face. She shook her head. Was he wearing a green bedsheet? With holes cut out for his arms? He looked ridiculous, like if the Jolly Green Giant found the western diet.

The coursing lust in her stomach fell away for a moment as her breathing returned to normal. She forced a smile to her friends and rose quickly, noticing a nearby grey-haired man's eyes rising with her as she stood, studying her legs up and down.

Why shouldn't he? I've worked hard on them. Normally she'd have ignored it or shot him a disapproving stare, but not today. Today's haze sheered her normal inhibitions like a razor.

"I'll be right back."

Her peripheral vision blurred with every step. The lights above ebbed and flowed like distant stars, their twinkling rays reflecting off the plates on the ceiling. There was no way a vodka shot could've hit her like this. Had her water been drugged? Couldn't have, the girls sat in their usual protective cluster. Lester's big back rolls wobbled as he confirmed the order.

"Hell, if I know if they want croutons! Ain't never had no goat cheese salad in my life!"

The smell of industrial soap brought her back to the carwash fundraisers her senior year. At least it didn't crinkle her nose like his usual body odor. Looking back at her friends who huddled around Amy, she cleared her throat and put her hands on her hips.

"I can't even feel safe in my own apartment and had to buy a fucking security system. Because of you!"

Lester stepped back, bumping into a gumball machine. It wobbled and teetered until he caught it with a big paw. His name badge hung loosely upside down, attached with a mixture of duct tape and laundry hanger wire. She motioned him outside, past the stern-faced grandma still crawling on the floor. Humid August air swirled over them the second they stood alone.

"Er - listen, I don't know -"

"You're going to tell me who that was and how he got in, or I'm calling the cops," she said, pulling her phone out.

"Listen, whatever he did, I don't know about. He's just some pharm - cist who weighs a buck twenty. Well maybe after a few of them soy drinks he likes."

Taryn's brow furrowed as she studied Lester's face. She couldn't believe that she'd given every bit of herself to him, her passion, lust... her body to him. Of all people, the obese man who drew stares and gasps the second he waddled into the restaurant.

A pharmacist? How much of what he said was the truth? He extended both palms and looked down at his feet.

"I - I was wrong ta done that. Figured I could trust him, an' some folks, well... you know."

"Who is he, your friend?"

"I'd say. Garrett, I think. 'least I'm pretty sure. Haven't seen him for a minute though."

"That's because they sent him to jail, duh. No more keys?"

"Nope."

"Or you'll end up just like he did."

She turned quickly and returned to her table, each step a slippery traverse of her soaked panties between her thighs. Her face burned red. The fluttering nerves in her stomach jumped ever higher... after talking to the 400-pound slob.

He gazed back at her distant blonde locks, blocking both doors until the struggling elderly woman on the floor began yelling at him. Reluctantly, he disappeared into the summer night.

The second she entered 204 she locked the door behind her. The need between her legs consumed her, for her body to spread open and the smooth primal rhythm of another easing, pushing, filling her with all their lust. She couldn't ignore it anymore. Her legs splayed as far as her skirt would allow as she settled on her soft comforter. Chills ran down her spine when her fingers brushed the silken skin of her inner thigh. She lost control of her hips, their rolling action hiking her skirt inch by inch.

Reaching blindly onto her dresser and knocking over two candles, she found a hairbrush and plunged it between her wet folds.

"Ahh...ahh..fuck, fuck, fuck," she moaned in rhythm with it impaling her. Her painted toes curled at the stiff thickness filling her, satiating the lust she'd fought all evening.

She pulled her soaked thong to the side and closed her eyes in shaky concentration. She forgot any care if the neighbors could hear. Her mind was singular, her body all action.

"Ahh...oh god - oh god..."

The prom queen's insides churned in her sweltering lust, each thrust parting her pretty lips.

"Fuck yes, oh god yes -"

Ringlets of hair stuck to her neck as she twisted in the sheets. She buried the brush inside her to the hilt, its stiff thickness setting off a lightning bolt of nerves that contorted her body into urgent heat. Her hair twisted and spread along the pillows as she closed her hooded eyes to darkness.

Her mind flashed to the hot tub. Lester's oafish body. The churning water. But how his eager hands slid down her narrow waist, gripping her ass as he used her and erupted his filthy seed deep inside her... how chills ran down her back even in the hot water as she felt his cum splashing inside her womb.

How when she'd returned after the dinner her thighs were streaked in his cum that'd leaked out all evening. So much that thick rivulets gushed down her silken legs, dripping all over her apartment. And the unspeakable moment afterward where she stripped off the thousand-dollar gown, not caring for a moment about its expense as she stepped over it and sunk into in her bed, finding her clit. Touching herself thinking... of him.

Of all people... why him? He's literally the ugliest, nastiest fucking creep I've ever seen.

Her black nails blurred, quickening the brush's intrusions, her juices covering it in sopping slaps against her skin.

"So...fucking...gross..."

It slipped from her fingers onto the dampening sheets. The momentary void frustrated her, and she blindly reached for the brush until she slid it back inside completely, the friction sending warmth coursing through her entire body. The wet squelches loudened as she craned her neck and thrust her hips forward, rolling them so her skirt rode up her hips, exposing her perfect ass. Her cheeks rippled with every hard plunge and snapped back to their pert shape. She slammed it into her tight pussy as if she was possessed.

"Such a fucking pig—"

She slipped out of her shirt and tossed it onto the stained floor. Her red satin bra shimmered in the moonlight streaming through her bedroom window. Like a fever dream, memories flashed back to the hot tub over and over. How he chewed on and eagerly devoured her breasts... her hard nipples brushed against the expensive fabric, the friction making her gasp.

She'd have jumped anyone who walked through her door at that moment.

The view she had of the lecherous pervert attached to her chest, his drooling mouth bathing her flawless skin with his saliva, his jumbled teeth brushing against her sensitive buds.

"Ahh -- so much fucking cum - ahhh, ahhh ahh!" Her feminine moans ripped through her apartment thin walls. More than one neighbor stopped what they were doing to listen to the sexy blonde. Had she peered outside, she'd have seen lights turn on and blinds opening.

She squeezed her legs around her hand and wordlessly writhed in bed, her lips parting in silent ecstasy as warmth surged through her core. A sheen of sweat dampened her brow. Her long legs kicked as she twisted in the sheets, an orgasm ripping through her core. Her sweaty hair lay in a mess across her face. Her chest heaved.

For a moment the need was satiated.

~~~~~

The next day, she leaned forward in the doctor's office. Getting the appointment had been hard enough, and the wait for her diagnosis was numbing. Her stomach twisted as the doctor's eyes scanned the clipboard for a couple minutes. First, the numbers couldn't be right. Secondly, the young woman's perfume enticed him with every breath, and he wasn't in a hurry to pop a hard-on in front of his day's first patient. He stroked his white beard.

"And you started birth control a few days ago?"

Taryn nodded. She passed him the bottle of pills. He shook his head immediately as he picked one up.

"For fuck's sake. Med error."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh - sorry for the language. A mix-up. The pharmacist gave you the wrong prescription...This isn't anything you want to fool around with. It can trigger some wild behaviors."

She glanced at her wedges.

He pointed to the chart. "Your estrogen levels are extremely elevated, and it'll take time for your hormones to rebalance—"

"How long?"

"Could be two months, could be six. Everyone is different. With your fitness and youth, I'd say two to three months."

What a problem for her boyfriend, he thought. With as much hormones running through her, she's probably a fucking banshee in bed. He scribbled on his pad.

"Don't go back to Dugan's. Never had anything like this from them before. It's really a shame they goofed."

She took the sheet and put it in her purse. He opened the door.

"And if you've had any unprotected sexual intercourse during this time..." he sighed. "There's a chance it could result in pregnancy. Of course, it'd take a lot of luck to overcome all that estrogen flowing in your blood."

She nodded weakly and breezed past him, his chest swelling as he inhaled her scent. Lilac and flowers, he imagined. Her hair brushed against his arm as she left. He'd be thinking of her later that night.

Taryn's mind raced as she drove. She prayed the Plan B did its job. There's no way that I'm pregnant is there? Like seriously, it'd my luck. If her modeling career came crashing down before it started with the seed of a 400 lb. man growing inside her, her toned stomach disappearing in the service of growing his offspring, her tight dresses hanging permanently in her closet, swapped out for sweatpants.

She shuddered. Stop being such a wimp.

She arrived at the pharmacy in a flash and hurried out with her new birth control, this time triple checked by a very eager manager.

Andy Addington shoved another cardboard box onto the front porch of his bungalow. The paint-chipped boards creaked. His ears perked up at the screeching brake pads of Taryn's Civic as it pulled up. She stepped out, the mid-afternoon rays bathing her blonde hair in light. She looked like an angel, like her mother. He leaned his fit frame against a porch column.

"You know, I meant to talk to you about your car?"

She pointed to the boxes. "Dad, what's this?"

He sighed and sat on the steps. "I got a job offer and..." He blinked back tears. "It's been too quiet here. Since you moved out and Liz - well -"

Her throat stiffened. "So, you're selling the house?" The shade of a tree Andy planted twenty years ago cloaked her face.

"It needs work - it'll be at least six months." The stress of her apartment, now with a non-functioning front door, the cum stained floors, the constant paranoia of being watched surged to the front of her mind.

"So, I'll still have my room?"

He tilted his head. "Sure, but your apartment..."

"I'm actually looking for a new one right now, so to have another place to stay would be perf."

"What? I'm not as hip as I once was."

She laughed. "Okay, that'd be per-fect."

"Deal then! For me, too. I could use some eyes around here." He scooted a chair back inside. "All furnished. I'm off to Fayetteville this afternoon. You really should send in your college application and join Amy. I'll say you're on a rowing team," he said with a wink.

"Dad you're terrible."

He pulled out a couple VIP passes. "At least give it a thought. Thought you could help her get settled in with these. For the Alabama game."

"What! Are you freaking serious?" She hopped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"And that car of yours - unless you want to give me hearing aids before I'm 50... T, I got a bit of a bonus and want to help out with it—"

"Dad—"

"At least let's look, I've had enough moving boxes for a day."

~~~~~

In his glass office, Richard Burns shielded his eyes from the thousand points of light beaming off car windshields. He twisted his tie and tried focusing on the old couple before him who reminisced about a Mercedes from their youth.

"And on our 6^th date, he took me to get ice cream. You see - I'd never had it before."

It took everything in him not to slap the desk and tell them he didn't give a shit about their 6^th date. Or 7^th or 10^th. He existed to sell cars - he hadn't been the leading salesman the last four years by wasting time.

"Ahem - it's all yours, let me sign these papers," he said, cringing as he spelled out his name.

Richard Leon Burns.

The momentary shudder was habit and unnoticed by the grey-haired couple who shuffled out with the paperwork. His heart jumped every time customers turned into his car lot, past the wooden sign he'd erected years ago. Richard Burns Auto was painted in white against a red octagonal background. He'd scribbled and Body Shop underneath in sharpie a couple years ago. He figured it looked like a stop sign.

Every sale was a battle of wills (his usually won) to get the damn blinding reflections out of his eyes. A ray of light slowly climbed up his wall accompanied by the sounds of a struggling engine. Maybe a trade-in. He rubbed palm oil in his hair and bounded to the door. His knees didn't ache like they did a hundred pounds ago.