The Mix-Up Ch. 05

The pale undersides of leaves bobbed in the breeze outside the photography studio. Taryn hesitated, her nails tapping the curling paint of the driver's side door. The sun broke through the clouds onto her glistening phone screen, reflecting back brightly into her squinting eyes. She stared at the words.

Taryn I liked your picture VERY much. Above the words was the picture she'd sent the night before. What a night it'd been. It was all very... strange, interacting with Geode. An arousal had crackled inside her with every lightning bolt of the swirling storm... the late summer heat had been alive, her twisting insides churning with hormones and everything but control... The thrill of taking pictures in the dark for a total stranger who'd mouth fed her line after line of sludge.

Like the Geode's request for a reciprocal picture making sense, so had the idea of slipping on a pair of stockings like the models in Lester's magazines. For the old slob. She shuddered. With her clear head, she had to wonder, what was I thinking? Trying to keep her slutty side private and confined in actions to Lester was going to take all of her energy.

"Having car trouble, dear?" The photographer stood in the door, her pear-shaped rump holding it open.

"Oh - I'm fine," Taryn said, flashing a wave and starting her car. It whined, and only after it coughed exhaust did the woman return inside.

A low rattle emanated from the engine as she passed street after street. People dotted the sidewalks, some walking dogs or holding shopping bags. What were their lives? Were they going the direction they intended?

Her body stung, every jostling movement of her worn shocks punching nerves on parts of her that'd been sucked, slobbered on, and spread. She closed her long lashes at a stoplight. I - I let him in my ass. Well, I didn't know he was going to - fuck, I let him do it... and I didn't hate it. I didn't hate his nasty dick pounding into me and actually might want it again if -

A truck laid on its horn behind her. Her car groaned through the intersection. And I swear, if this piece of shit doesn't break down before I get home. Her phone vibrated and slid down the passenger seat. The tone of Amy's voice was as serious as if she'd crashed her Mercedes.

"So what were you doing last night? Or should I ask who?"

Taryn froze. Shit. She slammed the brakes after nearly blowing through a stop sign.

"T, who is he? You totally hooked up with that Orioles guy, didn't you? I knew it!"

She exhaled. "Huh - sure..." Still, what does Amy know?

"So imagine me minding my own business as usual, STUDYING, yes, I do sometimes. Not a lot, but still. I thought the coolest thing I'd see on your security camera was cops busting the door down on that creep. But let's recap. You're taking pictures in the dark, changing outfits - cute skirt by the way, and then you come back hours later looking like you won a wet t-shirt contest. Muddy too." If only she knew why. Fuck, why'd I give Amy my security camera info!

The blonde bit a fingernail. "Yeah - I -"

"I have so many questions."

"He - he texted me and I don't know - things happened."

"Your boobs were literally 10x clearer than that answer. It looked like you went to a fucking water park."

"Amy, I'm tired, I'm worn out. Just give me a minute."

"I bet you are... okay, okay I'll drop it for NOW. But when you come up here, I expect the full story."

Taryn tossed the phone back to the passenger seat and drove in silence. The turn past the tree lined parking lot of the Clinton Library didn't muster any expression on her face. She sighed. Normally she would've been more sentimental, eyeing the parking spot where she'd prayed before meeting Redding for the first time. Where she'd smoothed her outfit and applied one final coat of lipstick before the first agency meet and greet. I should have SO much warmer memories of that day. I was practically jumping up and down; everything was so new! That day... meeting Redding and hearing his accent for the first time in person, signing and starting this journey.

She frowned. But this journey turned me into a completely different person. She shifted in her seat, a jolt of pain coursing through her ass. No amount of twisting could relieve the burning sensation or erase the wetness seeping into her dress. I know what that liquid is... I just don't want to say it.

Taryn turned to the right and refused to look left. But try as she may, the flickering red sign of Dugan's popped up in her rear-view mirror. She flicked her eyes back to the road. No, that's why I'm a completely different person. Her phone buzzed again. She grabbed it.

"Probably another sick message..." Sure enough, a litany of words piled beside the geode avatar.

I have another picture for you... She exited the app and put her phone on her lap. Focus on the road. Am I seriously sexting a complete stranger?

The next couple days passed in arcane speed, a barrage of emails to and from Cattarossi that solidified every detail of her contract down to the type of water she wanted at the Spring show. At least she had the game in Fayetteville to look forward to.

~~~~~

Taryn threw her arms around Amy's neck outside the stadium, their matching VIP lanyards slapping together in a long overdue hug. The two flashed them at anyone who smelt of authority, and soon nestled in their seats in the windowed booth. Away from the familiar smells of cigarette smoke and hot dogs, the excitement that permeated from every inch of concrete, the rumbling of hog calls. The enclosure felt distant, corporate.

She opened Snapchat to see a mob of twitching avatars centered around hers.

"Look, like everyone's here."

"So who are you hooking up with?"

"Seriously Amy--"

"Come on T, I'm just a LITTLE curious who you risked a legit tornado to see, and don't bullshit me saying the Orioles guy. A friend of his told me you blocked him - his messages aren't even delivering to you. So I know it wasn't him."

The blonde stretched her long legs and picked at the frayed pocket of her daisy dukes. God, the one topic I knew would come up I still couldn't think of an excuse for. Her cowboy boots caught on the new carpet adorned in Razorback red.

"Fine - you ever have a hookup you're just not proud of and wish you could forget?"

Amy nodded. "Oh this is good. Was it Mark or Dillon?"

"What - who?"

"The guys from the hot tub, you know, the night we went to Katsuya? They were eyeing the hell out of you babe." The blonde clapped after a hard Razorback tackle. Fuck if I can't remember people's names. But what I do remember is when they left, I straddled a 400-pound man, and his hands groped my ass before he came so hard inside me he probably knocked me up.

"Well?"

Taryn leaned forward. "Fine, I'll tell you if you can keep a secret."

Amy pulled an imaginary zipper over her lips.

"That smelly repairman you had the hots for in my apartment -"

"God if you're never going to tell me, then I'll drop it."

If only she knew. Mr. Redding's number appeared on her buzzing phone. She gratefully accepted the call.

"Thank god, Amy's being mean," she said, sticking her tongue at the petite Asian girl.

"Miss Park, you better stop harassing poor Taryn," the older Brit said. "I have big news."

Amy clapped. "You're signing me? I can totally pose. I do my own makeup--"

"I've heard you're at school now! Taryn - pack your bikini - you're going to Miami."

"What! When?" Taryn jumped out of her seat. The stress in her gut evaporated.

"Tomorrow. It's time the rookie class of 2020 meets. This pandemic won't stop us--"

Taryn pushed her ear closer to the phone, the Hog calls from outside erupting into full throat as a Razorback running back tumbled into the endzone. Seventy-two thousand red-clad fans rose, their arms extending toward the sky. The rumbling shook the suite, even the quivering thick glass unable to contain the frenzy.

"Wooo Pig Sooie!"

She yelled into the phone. "Just a second!" She reached her arms toward the suite's ceiling.

"Wooo Pig Sooie!" Amy pointed her phone at the blonde, focusing on the blonde's beaming smile.

"Wooo Pig Sooie! Razorbacks!" The air was rocking in Fayetteville.

Redding's voice sounded small. "If you're out - we'll talk later -"

"Bikini - got it - what else do I need?"

"Cattarossi's been calling me. He'll be there, he has reservations for that dinner with you tomorrow."

Her smile disappeared. Shit.

"I'll have wardrobe send you some outfits there. And Taryn?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Yes?"

"Try to have fun, don't fret too much about social media posts. There's more to life than being on a phone."

Midway through the second quarter, the mass of fans sat on the bleachers, with only an occasional "Go Hogs!" piercing the silence. Alabama had a way of doing that to teams. Amy sent Taryn the video of her calling the Hogs, which the blonde posted on Insta, despite Redding's advice. It was part of her job as a model after all, keeping a high profile, she figured. She scrolled Instagram and was about to set her phone down when she saw the message.

Taryn I see you're online.

Taryn you've been quiet. Why? Was it shame? I wonder if I spoke too much truth to you, or just too much in general. The last few days I've been jerking off to that picture you sent. I couldn't focus on the rest of your profile.

You have a fantastic ass. I can only imagine waking up next to you in the morning knowing I had bent you over on all fours for hours the previous night. Of course your pert little ass would be worse for wear too. And after we get out of bed and I pump you full of another deposit in the shower, I'll take you to a fine dinner.

Taryn I can't lie. I've always wanted a hot blonde girlfriend. Showing you off would do wonders for my ego. Especially when I force you to wear a tight little black dress that shows off your ass.

Your ass that's been used by me so much. Not from making love, but breeding. No one will know how often you're being flooded by my cum. They'll see your painfully pretty face not able to cohere the sickness that's flooded your brain. That's the thing Taryn. People assume beautiful people are well behaved and classy. But that's not you. At least not after I change you. Sitting with me drawing envious eyes of those around us, day after day of your body eagerly draining me of every single drop of cum, you'll be my trailer slut in the body of a fashion model.

Your body is made to breed. That's why men look at you and stop what they're doing. They want your hot body to blow up with their seed. So maybe when you're sitting with me that process is already starting. Your physical perfection having realized its goal, and the changes begin. Your body once built to seduce, becomes a grower. Expanding and existing to feed and grow my offspring.

You'll put on weight. Nothing much at first. No one notices. But you feel it. You know it. You'll still get all the attention from before. Every night I'll roughly pound your tight body even though the dye has been cast. You're going to be a teen mom. And everyone will know you couldn't help but spread those gorgeous legs of yours because you needed cum more than you loved your modeling career.

It was your destiny looking that good.

When your flat tummy starts to swell, maybe you can hide it at first. Your belly button ring will hang differently. Your bikinis will be tied a little looser and have to stretch a little more. All because my seed is growing inside you. Your constant pregnancy is here, Taryn. Your tight little body will unravel a little bit every day.

"Messages that long are never good news," Amy said, picking at a pretzel.

Taryn quickly exited the app and nodded. "You're right."

She paused, watching the crisply choreographed routines of the cheerleaders. These messages are fucking nonsense. What kind of creep would write things like that? Ruining my body? Probably some stupid fuck living in his mom's basement. But she had to squeeze her legs together to keep them from inching open at the sickening words.

She looked away.

*****

The next day, Lester's eyes flittered open at unexpected light. A dragonfly flew in its herky jerky motion and landed on his nose before whizzing off. His eyes crossed at it and then refocused on the rays of sunshine pouring into his RV.

"What the actual hell!"

In the hours after he'd collapsed on the pushed together couches, the struggling metal ceiling of the RV crumbled, dumping in a deluge of water and opening the sky to his senses. His toes dipped into water lapping against his gut.

He'd secured the creaky door to protect against the storm, but instead it trapped all the water pooled in the RV. In fact, the couches were the only objects in the RV not floating, with trusty Lester holding them down. His eyes narrowed at sharp knocks on his door.

"Who the hell is it! I still got two weeks to pay the damn fine!"

"Sir, if I could speak with you - I'm with the VA - the military - here to talk about your benefits."

"The only benefit I ever got from the military was leaving! And so should you - get outta here!"

"Sir, please -"

Lester grabbed the nearest weapon, a toilet plunger he'd used to smack overly curious rats. He waded past the floating pizza boxes and beer cans. The water lapped against the bottom of his 'Be Better' paper taped to the door, smearing Gary's name.

The woman outside brushed her grey hair and eyed her makeup in the chipped chrome of the side bumper. Her golden bracelet nearly slid off her wrists, which she snapped back to her sides. She raised her chin high, holding her clipboard, ready to see a distinguished defender of the country. The straining door finally relented, its metal squealing under the intense pressure.

She shrieked. Like a breaking dam, a tidal wave of water surged out, carrying pizza boxes, Shasta bottles, and even Lester, who rode the torrent that deposited him belly first in front of her.

"Oh my god!" She put her hands to her pursed lips. Trash, food, and 40 years of accumulated mess poured out, much of it landing on Lester. Already covered in mud from the night before, the big old boy squirmed and threw his arms forward like Mark Spitz while still holding the plunger.

"I'm drowning! I'm drowning!" He rolled onto his back.

"Sir - oh my - are you okay? I'm so sorry, I'm going to get help."

Only the whites of his eyes were clear of mud.

"Whadya want? Lemme catch my breath."

She paused at the scene before her. "You're Lester Burns?"

"What's it to ya?"

"Sir--" she stifled a gag at the stench of rotten food and brackish water. "It's just a shame our veterans must live like this! We're providing you hotel lodging for the next two weeks as we settle your case." She burnished a white envelope that practically glowed against the trash-filled slop around them. "Two weeks at the Marriott..." Her eyes searched his for a reaction.

"You one of them porno producers, tryna' get me in a hotel or something?"

She shuddered, returning her chin to its customary high perch.

"You have no clue why I'm here... You have 37 years of accrued military benefits and haven't even touched them. Of course, your felony--"

"Droppin' them porno tapes in the river wasn't a damn felony!"

"Um, I'm referring to your felony in 1984, Mr. Burns." Lester grinned, his teeth not much whiter than the mud streaking his face. She stepped back as several flies orbited his head.

She flipped papers on her clipboard. "So even with that 10% reduction, you're looking at a lump sum of.... let's see... $467,231."

For a moment, Lester Burns was as happy as a pig in mud. His lips moved, and grit dripped into his mouth.

"Thank God for Grenada."

A few hours later, a third straight taxi sped by upon seeing flies swarming his naked chest. He peeled his fallen handyman uniform from the dirt, kicking free the chunks, and lumbered to the carwash. He lumbered out and twisted the uniform in his big hands, rivulets of brown water like chocolate milk dripping onto the pavement. He figured he'd drip dry by the time he finished his next errand. His belly entered the auto shop two seconds before his head, and Lester slapped down the few sopping bills from the sale of Gary's car that he could find.

His Chevette's 'new' bumper, picked from a junkyard in Quincy, Illinois, glinted in the sun as he drove home. Life was looking up.

*****

Gary's muscles strained on the bench press in the prison yard. His orange jumpsuit stuck to the sweat-stained pleather as his thick glasses slid up his nose. He'd quickly learned he wasn't built for a life in the pen. After nearly getting his ass beat for admitting to his fellow inmates he'd stolen a girl's panties, he decided a different tact was needed. He'd read in National Geographic that prison dynamics focused on the outsider and weakness, so he drew a tear drop by his eye like the photos of the hardened gangsters in the magazine. As he struggled to lift 45 pounds, a Mexican in a black doo rag appeared over him.

"Looking different today, my man. How'd you do it, holmes?"

"Do what?"

He looked back at his boys and laughed. He pointed to the corner of Gary's eye.

Gary sat up. "Oh! With a marker."

"Bwahahaha!" they fell over each other.

"We like you, bro. Maybe a little too much."

Sherese's voice sounded over the loudspeaker. "Gary, you gon get raped actin' like that. Thank god Lester Burns just dropped off your bail money." There was a pause. "Dumbass white boy," she muttered, still blaring for all to hear.

His heart jumped. I'm free!

Doo rag eyed him up and down. "Lester? Lester Burns?"

Another peeped in. "Wait, bro, you know Lester? He's fucking famous here."

Gary stood as a guard waved him over. "Uh - see you guys later."

"That means being in here, so better hope not. Tell Lester hey for me."

After two hours of paperwork and stone-faced officers discussing the terms of his bail, Gary peered out a taxi at the unending lines of soybeans. Each straight row pleased his love for order and control. To be free again! Despite all that Lester had done, giving him that key had resulted in his arrest, Gary relaxed his spindly shoulders into the leather seat.

It's time to get back to normal. Little Rock rose from the delta, the spires of its downtown looming over the River Market that teemed with crowds on the sidewalks and restaurants. Warmth tingled through him. To be home again and to play his video games... The next few minutes passed with a smile growing on Gary's face. All too soon they were in his neighborhood.

"Stop! Stop! Right here!" Gary yelled at the driver. The taxi screeched to a halt and bumped the curb with a metal groan.

"I live back there. Whatever." Stepping into the late August heat, his thick glasses immediately fogged. He wiped them on his Dugan's pharmacy shirt, his nose getting a full inhale of the maroon fabric. It smells a little musty. Better wash it before work tomorrow. But the smell was to be expected, with it bearing the stresses of him being arrested in Taryn's apartment.

He walked down to the mail room, with its dozens of neat silver lined boxes. His was at the end with rolled up papers sticking outward, looking like sticks of dynamite. He uncrinkled the first with his small hands, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Due to your felony arrest being of a sexual nature, the Society of LARP (SLARP) must terminate your membership immediately. This decision is final.