The Mix-Up Ch. 05

She adjusted a gold bracelet on her wrist.

"Taryn, they're scared of you. Or at least intimidated, I think..." Amy said, downing the rest of her drink.

"I don't bite. Like screw it, I'm here to have fun."

"What've you've been up to since I've been gone? Besides meeting mystery guy in that storm?"

Taryn shook her head. Where to begin... Ernesto crawling under the table taking my panties, or sending pics to the glittering geode stranger on Instagram... or nasty soda spilling all over my boobs as -

She took her best friend's hand. "Come on, we're here to dance, girl! Look at our babes having fun!"

One of the beer toting men finally stepped forward, careful to smile at Amy first. Taryn opened their circle slightly. Smart, he knows how to play the game.

"What's your name?" he yelled. She blurted out the first name that came to mind.

"Esmeralda." Amy met Taryn's eyes, and the two burst out laughing.

"Hey - my name is...." She couldn't hear him in the din and the darkness. She nodded and stepped closer, cracking a smile. FINALLY some fun. He bent toward her. His dark locks reached his shoulders. The oak and amber scents of his cologne washed over her. He's cute, in a Viking kind of way. I almost forgot what a hot guy looks like.

"You're really pretty."

The strobe lights played off her sequins as they stepped up onto the dance floor.

He cupped his hand and leaned in. "What do you do?"

"I model."

"That makes tons of sense, I mean - you're gorgeous. Although I'm not sure I believe your name."

She laughed. "Let's get there when we get there. What do you do, sir?"

"Apparently, I get fake Spanish names from blonde girls. What ruined my chances, my hair?" He coiffed it with a smile.

"If I give you my name, promise you won't kill me? I'm speaking more literally than most."

He nodded.

"Taryn."

"Taryn? Like how you're tearing up the dance floor right now?"

"Oh my god, stop it." She stuck out her tongue. "You love playing with fire, don't you?"

"Not any more than most." He nodded to the bar. "Your drink needs a refill."

"Sounds good to me."

A couple guys nudged their buddies as they passed. The line to the bar spilled past a set of Venetian vases. Taryn's heels clattered around them.

He's going to ask me to his place... and if not tonight, soon. I can't do anything with anyone normal... I have to contain this. Just take the free drink. Or you're so far gone you'd rather fuck a morbidly obese man who is forty years older than you... Be honest.

"These drinks are hitting me. I'll be back." She excused herself to the bathroom. A girl angled by her and stopped.

"I just love your mascara."

After telling the girl what brand she used, Taryn closed the stall behind her and swiped a perfect red nail up her phone. The list of Instagram messages came into view with their first few words visible.

We'd love to collab with you for our products...

Do u have a bf?

Taryn, it's James from high school! How are you? I...

When do I get another picture? I've done such bad...

She focused on the last line, a simple line out of the hundreds. Its avatar glittered. It matches my dress. He'd probably like that. Or she? Who the fuck knew whether the person was who they said they were?

Taking a deep breath, she clicked on the message.

When do I get another picture? I've done such bad things to the last one.

She scrolled down to find a picture under the words. Her stomach clutched tight. Oh shit, what did he do... Geode had printed out the pictures she'd texted him, ones of her ass, and had indeed done bad things to them - spraying cum all over the glossy prints. Their fluid corrupted her flawless skin, the milky white ropes of cum plastered all over the curve of her lower back down to her ass. The paper was worse for wear, darkening where the load soaked into it. All for me... because of me.

Her breathing quickened. There's NO way I can be around anyone normal as long as I'm like this.

She was more acutely aware than ever that she wasn't wearing panties. She closed her eyes, her hands shaking. The din of techno burst in with the creaking door, shooting her eyes back open.

Taryn I hope you don't mind I shared the pictures online. Surely you've heard of tributing? It's where all us pervs cum on a girl's pics. And I must say, they loved yours. There are so many more men who've shot loads right on your hot little ass. Your pic shot right up to the top of the website, it was easily the most popular. The dirty old men had no clue it was from a Ford model. I can direct you to them if you'd like. I got a message offering me $200 for more pics of you. I have to admit though, I was a little jealous seeing other men talk about you. And to see their cum splattered all over your body. That's just something I'll have to get over though. You see you're going to be pregnant very soon. Maybe it'll be from me, or someone else?

Seeing your tight body transformed by motherhood at such a young age hardens my cock. Maybe you haven't outright said it, but I can tell you have baby fever running through that mind of yours. I can tell by the hidden slut inside you. You melted so easily to the dirty words I sent you. And when you're plopped on the sofa unable to wear those sexy outfits, unable to look past your huge stomach you're going to scroll through our messages and wonder just what you were thinking when you had it all. Your perfect body, why you gave it all away because you couldn't help yourself. The thought of a stranger's seed working its way into you became more important than anything else in the world. More important than having the power that came with being flawless, the power, the money - your legs just fell open when a bad birdy tweeted the right tunes in your ear.

Which picture is next for me? Online they've been calling to see more of you. They really want to see your face, to cum all over your pretty long lashes and bring you down a level. A girl as hot as you has had everything given to you in life. It's about time you dealt with some of the dirtiness of real life. You really should take as many opportunities as possible to show off your body before I knock you up. Because after that, every day my seed will be chipping away at your body that made you so famous.

Her ears perked up to the music vibrating the metal lock. The guy outside surely had the drinks by now... but I can't see him like this. Not when I'm starting to get... affected.

She braced against the stall door, her thin dress unable to suppress the cold metal against her skin.

But I'm not dumb. I know you like playing this game privately, just as I do. A face shot would end our little dance. You know the internet. Nerds with too much time on their hands can line up a couple freckles and identify even the most cautious girl. You can show me any part of you. I have to admit your bikini pics from spring break had me drooling. Not just my mouth either. It's crude to talk about women by their bra size, but I wouldn't mind seeing yours. Your modeling profile says C cup. They look so good on you. I can't stand women with big fake tits, you've been blessed with the perkiest natural pair I've ever seen. And to imagine them losing their pertness, becoming utters for a long line of hungry mouths, your nipples getting so big. I'll slurp on your titties even if they become saggy, although with your genes, I'm not sure they ever will.

She gazed downward at the subtle curves of her breasts, their gentle rise and fall just hidden by her dress. No one's ever talked to me like this before... and yet, I fucking love it.

What if her flawless body was invaded and used by him? If she couldn't resist the hormones surging through her and ditched her birth control and invited him to do everything he talked about?

"Ugh."

She eased the glittering hem up her thighs, dipping a finger into her ready folds. Stickiness coated her glossy nail. Her eyes returned to the top of his message.

When do I get another picture? I've done such bad things to the last one.

The stall illuminated from the flashes of her phone. Her message nearly typed itself. If I'd worn panties, they'd have been around my ankles for you. Guess you'll just have to accept this instead. She sent it, the hormones surging through her veins, the thumping music unable to drown out the bile from Geode swimming through her pretty head.

~~~~~

Lester lay under the stained bedsheet acting as his tent. Each of his breaths pushed his gut against the top of his makeshift structure. A gust of wind blew the sheet further. It flapped loudly and whipped the side of his face.

"Piece a' shit! Just let a man sleep!" He shifted around on mud-caked blankets, his every movement squishing water out of them. His beady eyes scanned the moonlit clearing, a maze of weeds. Don't even try me, little man. If you're out there, I'll find ya. His eyelids fell, flickered, and closed. His snores soon roared through his campsite.

"NNNghhhh!"

"Nghhh!"

His phone rang, vibrating his gelatinous folds. He slammed the flip phone shut. Seconds later, it sounded again, and the big man opened it ready to give the likely telemarketer a piece of his mind.

"I need to talk." Thumping noise threatened to overtake the girlish voice.

"Who's this? Who the hell calls at..." he checked his hay-strung watch. "...11 at damn night?"

Techno beats and laughter pulsed through the line. "It's Taryn! Jesus, you're always such a grump..."

He rubbed his eyes. They focused on the gently swaying clothesline in the clearing.

"We're at Zara's--"

Figure cutting some rug wouldn't hurt me none.

~~~~~

The black bouncer had just waved off a group of women when a shadow overtook him. He had to lean back on his stool to take in the gut of the man standing before him. Lester's uniform, a stranger to soap in its best days, struggled to contain his overhanging stomach. Its nametag hung down past his nipple, its seams torn and frayed. His formerly beige handyman uniform had suffered in the mud for days. Besides its gigantic pit stains, its crusty and stiffened material shed dirt as he walked, the dark brown splotches a feral camouflage that would've been seen in a homeless camp. Lester hadn't felt the need to button either of the two remaining buttons, instead allowing his bare chest with its fluffy grey chest hair out for the world to see.

It's damn September anyway, he'd mused earlier while looking at his reflection in his Chevette's window. Hotter than hell's blazes!

The two men locked eyes. The bouncer shook his head and grasped the sides of his stool.

"I don't have any money."

Lester squinted. "That's all right and good, but I didn't ask yo' financial situation. I'm here to bust my moves!" He smiled, presenting his jumbled teeth so rancid the bouncer expected flies to come out. He turned away and spit on the cement.

"Not here you don't. There's a shelter a few blocks that way." He pointed.

"Hmmph!" Lester tightened a hand into a fist. "I ain't homeless! And even if I was, that wouldn't stop me from dancin' here! Last I checked it's a free country!"

The line chimed in. "You heard him - you're not welcome here. Get lost, dude."

"You're holding us all up!"

"Fucking go already!"

Lester shuffled to the side. "Little dipshits, all of 'em." He whipped out his flip phone, keen to give the bouncer a stare. He mashed a few buttons and put it to his ear.

"The bastard won't let me in. Uh huh. Yeah. By the parking lot, yep."

The bouncer's eyes stared back like voids. "You better be careful who you call that."

Lester snorted. "You think I traveled this far to be 'fraid of a little snotnose like you? Ha!" As the men's stare deepened, the door opened, and Taryn strode out. The whole line instantly pivoted to stare at the blonde.

She walked past Lester around the corner into the long alley, and he followed.

Even in the dim light, the green sequins sparkled in their contours to her curves. Every step rippled her locks of hair that touched her lower back. Her golden skin bore no evidence of their last encounter, when he'd erupted and shot thick ropes of cum on that very spot.

Her heels clicked with every step. She turned between two dumpsters. The smell of week-old food permeated over them both, drawing a scowl on the teen's face. She fidgeted and turned away. I'm not drunk. I - I just needed out of there... before my friends see me. The real me. The slut...

"Pretty sure this ain't the dance floor--"

"I didn't expect you to dance!" she yelled. "Can't you see what's wrong with me?"

She threw her hands up. "The only reason I fucked you in the first place was because I'm a hormonal wreck. That's what I tell myself. Your friend messed up my prescription so I just can't help myself! Whatever I do," she said, wiping a tear delicately off her mascara, "Like I try to keep anyone from knowing... my family, my... my friends."

Lester stepped backward.

"Keep them from knowing that I'm... a freak. I could've slept with any guy, literally any hot guy my age, but it's been with you. You can't explain the things we've done. Even with the hormones, I enjoyed it. I shouldn't have. Maybe this whole... whole time I was a fucking slut and just needed a little push."

His mouth opened, but it was her moment.

"I don't know what to do... like my mind drifts all the time to what we've done. Like just nasty shit, you know? Like how can I look at myself knowing I've told you to cum inside me? Or done with you? Or how--" she took a deep breath. "How it fucking turns me on?"

She looked away. Her dress never felt shorter or Lester nastier than at that moment. I - I can't do it again.

"I ain't a rapist," he said simply. "Not going to force you to do nothin'. 'Course I figured it was strange when you climbed on me in the hot tub. Thought maybe you had a screw loose. Never met a girl so pretty with a mouth like yours, a head like yours."

She wiped a tear away. "I wasn't like this before. The doctor says it could be another 5 months."

He shook his head. The blood coursing to his cock felt wrong. "So why'd you call me for? Not for dancing, I reckon?"

She hesitated as she searched for words. "When I was in there, I- I needed it. To get fucked. But it wasn't the same. I can't let anyone else know I'm like this. You know, a bad girl..." She pulled her dress down, but the airiness on her inner thighs remained. There's literally no barrier to getting fucked.

Sweat doused Lester's armpits as he gazed at the beautiful girl.

"You really ain't that bad, if it was because medicine. Hell, half of it was my doing."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh sure. Like when I begged you to knock me up?"

His mouth remained closed.

"Or when you came inside me... you know, in my ass."

His cock stiffened. "You're not makin' this easy."

She squeezed her legs together, careful to not place her heels on pizza crusts and Coke cans spilling from garbage bags.

"I don't know- maybe we could like, make an agreement or something."

Anyone overhearing the conversation would have laughed out loud at the ludicrousness of it, how the Ford Modeling Agency's hottest girl was negotiating with a man more than three times her age, whose pepperoni sized nipples hung out for the world to see. Negotiating on how to fulfill her insatiable need for his bloated balls to erupt inside her perfect body whenever she needed it.

He grunted. Blood wasn't in Lester's brain at that moment, instead it was stiffening his cock that stood straight as a flagpole. He pulled his breeches down, and his angry cock shot upward, slapping his stomach. Milky liquid drooled down the tip, tracing their way down his gnarled tool.

She flexed her thighs together. It was the ugliest cock she'd ever seen, but... it'd pounded her in ways NO ONE could imagine, those pulsing balls underneath hellbent on depositing their seed as deeply as possible into her womb. She bit her lip. I can't help it.

He stepped forward. A thick cloudy droplet hesitated on his cock for a moment before dripping onto chicken bones.

"An agreement?" His voice was husky.

Oh fuck. This was so wrong. And it KEPT happening.

Only a few inches separated them.

She turned away as his gut pressed against her flat stomach. With it, drool from his glistening cock slithered along the green sequins of her dress. His thick hands fell on the curves of her hips.

Her forehead wrinkled. "I - I mean- I shouldn't be doing this. Not here... Or with you. But it's SO hard to stop myself." She didn't need to touch between her legs to see if she was wet, every slight movement told her that. I'm a slut. A dirty slut. I'm so fucking wet for him right now he'd slide right inside me.

"I ain't gonna force ya," he said, leaning in closer. His lard-filled gut kept her at range, his hands tracing her lower back beneath her pretty blonde hair.

"I know and that almost makes it worse." She closed her eyes. Her insides swirled, the itch growing and expanding from her core, the heat surging in her temples. She gripped the side of the dumpster blindly, her nails piercing a garbage bag full of week-old nachos.

She parted her heels on the stained concrete.

"Do your worst."

Her tongue wrapped around his as he lifted her against the dumpster. Her heels couldn't lock around his back, so she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Ugh you're such a hot piece of ass," he said, groping her teen body.

Their tongues battled as her hips ground forward. So fucking disgusting, but why is my pussy dripping for him?

"I already dumped so much cum in you," he grunted.

"Yeah?" She caressed his sack which pulsed in her hand. "The first time I was completely-" she gasped, "...completely unprotected, not on the pill or anything."

He groaned, lifting her ass onto the rim of the dumpster.

"Think about that. Your cum was dripping out of me all night."

His breathing staggered, slowing into snorts and grunts. Her hooded eyes blinked slowly.

"Ever knocked up a prom queen?" Her legs eased open, her dress no longer able to cover her. The shimmering green fabric bunched up on her hips, exposing her silky legs which dangled around him. One of her heels dropped onto the concrete. She bobbed her other foot, the shoe slipping off and clattering below.

~~~~~

Taryn's brief dance partner waited outside the bathroom with her drink in hand through another song. Then he saw the flash of her green dress heading outside. Twisting and turning through the mass of clubgoers, he passed the bouncer whose nostrils flared seeing the drinks.

"Can't take those outside, boss."

He tossed them and continued. "Shit... $17 down the drain." The throbbing nightlife dwindled in the stillness of the parking lot. What had he said or done wrong? It'd been going so well.

His face tightened. These chances never happened to him, at least not with a girl like Taryn. She must've just been playing him. A girl like her had options. Drudging back to the club, he gazed into the nearby alley. The shapes were wrong. A figure leaned backward on top of a dumpster, the moonlight illuminating her long hair. She threw her head back, the movement catching light. Green sparkles. His stomach dropped. No - it couldn't be.

A pigheaded man, his face half covered by her sequins, pushed her thighs open. She strained to open them and rest them over his shoulders. Lip smacking and wet slurping overwhelmed the unimportant beats thudding from Zara's.