moonfire0mermaid

[moonfire0mermaid]

This Will Have to Do

Author’s Note: This was inspired by imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com's Request #256.5 "It’s the end of social distancing/isolation/quarantine, and the world is finally starting to open back up again. All that alone time leads to a majority of women coming out of social isolation in various stages of pregnancy. Something about how society changes and adjusts to this, told from the POV of someone who it would be a surprise to those around them if they were pregnant (secret lovers who moved in during quarantine, trans man, public figure, etc.)"

___________________________________

Laura couldn’t believe it.

A week ago, she had forced herself out of the apartment for the first time in what felt like months. The mission? To get a new wardrobe for her post-quarantine return to office. Everything from functional bras to pantyhose, to professional tops, slacks and dresses – hell, even shoes – was needed in order to look professional and, well, decent for when she was expected back after seven months of working from home.

The reason for the expensive sartorial reset was simple: Laura was nearly nine months pregnant with twins. Quarantine twins. BIG quarantine twins. And during those long months at home, gestating in secret, her body had ripened so fully that her typical work attire was rendered useless.

In fact, all of her normal clothes had quickly proven themselves to be impractical. She’d lived off of maternity leggings and old t-shirts, watching in amazement as the months went by and the amount of coverage they offered shrunk from just under her navel, to halfway up her bump, to slightly north of her ballooning breasts, to finally showing off her darkened, widening areolas. Sick of the sassy comments from her mailman about the amount of Motherhood Maternity packages she’d get weekly (to keep up with her growth!)  – and the sweaty, awkward process of heaving even the smallest of garments over her explosive mass – she began living her solitary, in-apartment life naked, waddling from kitchen to couch to bed to bath with her plump and pregnant flesh jiggling and fully exposed. Lucky, her shades were very thick.

But Laura didn’t have that luxury of comfortable nakedness for work. She had to look sharp. Her office was still conservative and professional, and she didn’t want the surprise reveal of her pregnancy turned sour by poor deportment. It was especially important to look together for a major (albeit poorly scheduled) presentation she’d have to give today to upper management, a culmination of months of hard work.

But fuck, looking at the mirror in complete disbelief, things were not looking up.

Nothing she had purchased a week ago – with room to spare for growth! – fit. In just a week, Laura had outgrown her projections and had nothing appropriate to wear.

Every skirt and pair of wide-hipped pants wouldn’t make it past her meaty thighs; the bras wouldn’t do up in the back, and the cups had gotten so tight her sensitive breasts and nipples screamed when she gently tried to stuff them in. Tops landed just above her belly button, her underbelly thrusting out proudly. Her new maternity panties were devoured by her swollen labia, while blazers refused to button or were thrust open at her bosom, her breasts failing to lay tamely underneath the lapels.

She got as close as she could to success with a body con dress. It looked painted on, and she couldn’t wear a bra, but it zippered up AND fell past her knees. Hopes were dashed, however, when she sat to slip into her new, wider heels, which accommodated her painfully swollen feet and ankles. The position of her belly, a poorly timed kick and the bending motion popped the zipper right open.

The shame of being big enough to explode through a maternity dress and the sudden feeling of relieved pressure did two things to the wildly hormonal Laura. First, she cried, embarrassed to find herself in this predicament. Second, she was so turned on by her hugeness that she immediately felt her pussy drip and her nipples harden.

Breathless, she looked at herself in the mirror again. Although it was blurry through tears, she could see how, even so tightly restrained in the ruined dress, her heavy belly spread her legs to settle on the bed between them. Her babies were active, and their gymnastics also managed to make conspicuous dips and impressions through the fabric.

She began to rub her tummy, taking time to gently squish together her massive tits as her pussy began to throb.

“I can’t believe that’s me,” she whispered to herself, tears still falling. “Tomorrow my life will be officially ruined when everyone sees me like this. I’m so fucking huge. How did I let this happen?!”

Her hand stretched passed the expanse of her belly, pulling the hem of dress up enough so that she could reach her dripping core. She found it like it had been with seeming permanence these past nine months: engorged, wanting, wet.  

It was this stupid box that got her this way in the first place. Fit, young, and successful, she had met a cute, affable guy on some dating app, subsequently got hammered with him, and was so wasted that his drunken confession –  quote, “youresobeautifulandiwannagetyoufuckinfatandpregnantwithmykidsandsuckonyourbigpreggotitties,” charmed her enough to not request a condom. In that moment, she felt lucky that she was between appointments to get her old IUD replaced, and that she was ovulating, and that he had said the very thing she had wanted to hear without prompting.

Laura hadn’t felt so lucky when the pregnancy test came back positive two weeks later and she realized that the number Ben – no, Adam? Fuck! –  gave her didn’t work. Fuck.

But then quarantine happened, just as her cute, pleasantly chubby belly began to swell. With her company’s work-at-home projections conservatively estimating that she’d be out of the office for at least a year and a half, she decided to cancel her abortion appointment. If no one had to see her – not her conservative boss, not her friends, not her staid, traditional parents – for over a year and a half, she could indulge her secret kink and give the baby up for adoption once it came. No shame, no raised eyebrows, no one the wiser.

And for the first several months, it was heaven. Laura watched her body expand and ripen, pleasuring herself as her horniness grew as her body did. She loved to feel the babies’ movements; to observe her gait transform into a wide and ungainly waddle, her tummy thrust forward to better keep balance; to eat whatever she wanted in service of her insane and powerful cravings.

The only time she had left her apartment were for doctor’s appointments. She wished she could find someone to appreciate her body with her, but her fear for her babies and contracting the sickness that put the world in quarantine kept her the sole provider of worshipful ministrations.

She got good at taking care of herself. In fact, when she found the fast rate of expansion was due to two babies in her womb, she worshiped herself so well in the backseat of her car that when she came she thought the saw stars.

But the unbridled and uncomplicated joy didn’t last.

Laura’s worst fears were realized when she realized that quarantine would be lifted early. Chances were good that she’d have to go into the office huge and with pregnancy on full display – her due date was a week before she was expected back.

She hadn’t told anyone of her pregnancy. No one knew. But now with a fast-acting vaccine and the world reopening, she had no excuse to hide herself anymore. Friends, family, colleagues and strangers would now see her unwed motherhood. Her wanton body, screaming her sexual promiscuity. Her incredibly physical transition.  Unless, of course, she went into labor on her due date. She could push the kiddos out, put them up for adoption, and blame her puffiness on a poor quarantine diet like everyone else.

When her due date came and went, and her doctor refused to induce her, and she found herself trying on tent-like maternity clothes at the mall, she sobbed, telling herself all the things she knew everyone would think. “What a whore.” “She’s huge.” “I cannot believe you did this to yourself.” “You don’t even remember the father’s name?”

The orgasm that ensued put her post-twins OBGYN experience to shame.

Now, here she was, staring reality down: Going into work, overdue with unplanned twins, and so massive she had nothing appropriate to wear. And she was dripping wet.

Laura forced her body up and began to strip in front of the mirror. The tears kept coming.

“You are so fucking fat, it’s embarrassing,” she said, peeling of the ruined red sheath of the dress. “You’ve literally gained 75 pounds of unnecessary weight. Just because you’re a knocked-up slut doesn’t mean you had to go and eat so much, too.”

Laura began to take stock of herself.

“You have completely transformed, you stupid bitch,” she sneered, her pussy clenching wildly. “Look at your feet. Look at your ankles. So puffy. You have cankles now. It’s gross.”

Her hands trailed down her flanks.

“And your hips? You’d think with how wide they’ve gotten your thighs would have an excuse not to touch. But those things have gotten so thick they rub together. You’re so fucking … meaty,” she said, tears dripping onto her chest.

Laura turned to her side.

“HA! Your ass. It’s expanded so big to balance out your belly that you could pass for pregnant on the back.”

Her hands slipped behind her to palm its expanse.

“And your fucking spine is literally pulled into an S because you got too pregnant. It’s repulsive. You look like you’re 49 now, not 29. CHRIST.”  

She groaned. Oh, this was turning her on.

“You can’t even walk right. DO IT, show yourself how you move now,” Laura commanded herself. It was like she was possessed, descending into a meanness that she hadn’t yet reached during her pregnancy. Yes, she liked to humiliate herself, but never this thoroughly.

Regardless, she listened to the desperately horny part of herself and waddled across the room and back to the mirror, all the while taking her awkward shuffle in. Her core and pelvis were thrust comically forward in an attempt to move steadily, one hand on her lower back to keep her balanced. Her breasts heaved with every step, belly too; even though her hips rotated out, perfecting her waddle, her thighs did just as she previously observed: rubbed thickly against one another. Her free arm swung wildly to grant her additional mobility. It didn’t really work; upon reaching the mirror, she was out of breath.

“Jesus, Laura, move for 15 seconds and you’re already out of breath? Fuck.”

Her hands moved to her belly as she attempted to arch her back. She was so, so desperately horny, and she could see the juices gushing out of her engorged pussy. “Remember when that thing was tight and cute and attractive? Not anymore. I can’t even shave it …”

All because of her huge womb.

She looked bigger than any woman she’d seen in real life, and rivaled some of the women carrying multiple she saw online. Peppered with pinkish stretch marks, her belly hurt her back, hurt her legs; it was truly massive, and had been since nearly the start. Laura’s smaller frame ensured that.

There was her belly button, too, which had been pulled plat in month five, became an outie in month seven, and had grown in width and length throughout the rest of her pregnancy. It was thick, like a third nipple proudly crowning her belly at its apex. And it was sensitive like a nipple, too; fingering it gave Laura shivers throughout her body. She did so now.

“And look at those tits,” she told herself, observing their own patches of stretch marks and shockingly visible veins. “What are you, a fucking cow? They’re ruined. You’ve ruined them. You literally bought an F cup a week ago that hurts too much to wear today. You actually snapped it off your body with your size, you disgusting piece of shit. Like, look at your areaolas. They’re fucking brown and huge and … your nipples are freaking prescription bottles at the tips. Do they ever fucking go down?”

She twisted the stalky brown protuberances in her fingers, hissing. Her breasts, which flopped like two large sacks of sand atop gaping shelf of her belly, were always painfully sensitive, her nipples always pert. Nothing could hide them, and even the faintest whisper of fabric on them had her whimpering. They were well and truly engorged.

Laura ended her body scan on her face, noting its newer roundness and the hint of a double chin.

“Luckily your hair and skin look good,” she admitted. “But that’s about it. You’ve become a total cow.”

She moaned, needy and desperate, and began to slowly and ponderously lower body to the floor. Her meanness made her crazed with lust, and the only way to fix it was to get on her knees in an effort to better touch herself.

“Imagine your big whale body waddling up to your parents,” she heard herself say. “Your clothes would be too small and you’d be spilling out so big, and your mom would be pissed and your dad would be so embarrassed to see his pure little golden child turned into such an obvious whore. They’d have to be confronted by the outline of your nipples through your shirt and the wetness of your dripping pussy through your yoga pants, because you’re such a fucking horny, slutty cow that you can’t even hide them.”

She was getting close.

“Imagine seeing Brian,” Laura whispered to herself, citing her ex. “He’d be with that tiny little blonde woman he left you for, the both of them so fit and beautiful and carefree. And there you’d be, drowning your pregnancy cravings in a Big Mac, groaning as your babies kick you, your navel as big as a golf ball through your shirt, popping out of your tiny clothes, breasts leaking milk … He’d be so repulsed, so glad he dodged that bullet … "

Another moan.

“Imagine mounting someone who finds your pregnant body so fucking sexy, their big hands palming your tummy, suckling on your breasts and navel, trying and failing to get their arms around you, feeding you … rubbing your belly in public … fucking you into … into labor … "

That did it. Laura’s desire exploded and she screamed. If she was loud enough to scare the neighbors, whatever. She was pregnant; she had needs.

And one of them, she realized, was a job with benefits and salary. If she didn’t figure out something to wear, she’d be late to said job. THAT wasn’t an option. She HAD to give this presentation today, or she could kiss that paycheck goodbye.

Still panting and sweating from her top-tier orgasm, she began the slow waddle to her closet. It had to be done.

Laura pulled on her baggiest yoga pants (no underwear; they were all too tight), which strained against the forward thrust of her tummy. Yelping, she arranged her breasts into her biggest sports bra; they still spilled out in a generous, veiny cleavage, with rolls of flesh proudly gathering under its straining hem.

Lastly, Laura picked up her newest, biggest t-shirt, sighing. She tried not to get too turned on from the embarrassment she felt after she saw the result. Half of her giant belly curved out of the Men’s L tee, which fit her now like a crop top. When she walked, her underbelly was on glorious and full display.

“This will have to do,” she said, calling an Uber. Laura couldn’t make the usual four-block walk anymore and expect to get there anywhere close to on time. Driving herself was out of the question - she had grown so much she couldn’t fit behind the wheel of her car.

“I’ll … I’ll have to answer a lot of questions because of you two,” she said, holding her belly with growing panic. “And it’s going to make for a really great orgasm when I get home.”

Her phone trilled – the car was here. It was time to show the world what she’d done during quarantine.

[moonfire0mermaid]

‘I Am the Guy’ - Pt. 1

Author’s Notes: 1. I’m not totally sure what this is, if I’ll continue, etc., but it was inspired by the great #bourbon_neat’s “seducing your best friend’s dad” audios on Soundgasm - Part 1 and Part 2. While I took some creative liberties here, the events that happen in those audios make this story go, and I’ve indicated with an asterisk (*) in the text where they’d fit chronologically, should you want to have a multi-media experience. 2. I’m challenging myself to crank out content in an effort to just shake out the writer rust. This is super unpolished. 3. In the aforementioned audios that inspired this, you’re the main subject. In an effort to keep that immersive element in this drabble, I refer to the corresponding female character as She or Her in bold. It can get confusing, so I decided to go overboard with identification. 4. ENJOY! 

________________________

It was the stray volleyball that did it, all those years ago. She was moving in, Kimmie Johnson was walking out, and Her ball fell out of the big box of sports supplies she was lugging into the new digs.

“You play?” Kimmie had asked.

“Yes,” she had said, beaming. “I’m trying out for the team once school starts.”

And that was that. Even though they were freshly 18 and met at a time where friendships fractured after graduation – and hell, She was new in town – the duo spent nearly every waking hour together. Sleepovers, post-volleyball yoga, college applications, just hanging with each other’s families.

She especially took a shine to Kimmie’s dad. His insights about life were interesting, she thought, and he was kind and funny. He asked good questions and seemed to care about her opinions. He was a good guy.

It was something She’d try and remind Kimmie during conversations about the Johnson’s seemingly strained marriage. Kimmie was frustrated that the obvious cracks in her parents’ relationships were brushed under the rug, and that she was kept in the dark on important family matters. As a result, Kimmie would routinely lament her parents and the frigid situation at home.

“Go easy on them. Your dad, especially. It seems like he’s trying,” She’d say.

“Yeah, you’re just saying that because you’ve got the hots for him,” Kimmie spat.

She would just blush. Kimmie was right; She had an awful crush on Kimmie’s handsome, thoughtful father. She hoped Mr. Johnson didn’t notice how often she stared.

___________________________

Soon after, life quickly changed for the girls. Both decided on a gap year, which they had planned to enjoy together. It was not to be.

A month before the end of summer, Kimmie was sad to learn that her friend’s mother became ill and her father was being relocated cross-country for work. As a result, She would be following her family to help around the house, giving them time to find quality in-home care. Then, She’d return back to town to go to the nearby university with Kimmie.

Meanwhile, Kimmie would work the long year of separation at the volleyball clinic, trying to make sense of the newly announced divorce of her parents alone.

Saying goodbye was worse than they anticipated.

“We’ll miss you, kiddo,” Mr. Johnson said when She came by Kimmie’s house to say goodbye. Crying, She’d spent the 15 seconds in his arms realizing that her sadness was not just about leaving Kimmie.

____________________________________

The year passed quickly*, and the two girls were thrilled to be finally reunited and starting their college career together. But the time apart had changed them, and Kimmie especially was disappointed to notice her friend was often distant, busy and distracted.

“I’m seeing someone,” She finally told Kimmie. “And I’m … it’s insane, this connection. He’s gorgeous and kind and thoughtful and wise – ”

“’Wise?’”

“— Yes, wise --- and the sex, I just –“ Her bashfulness kept her from continuing.

“What’s his name?” Kimmie asked.

“His name?” She hesitated. “RJ.”

Kimmie was both excited and wary about the developments, as only a friend who fears being replaced can.

___________________

Those fears were not completely unfounded.

“I’m pregnant and I’m keeping it,” She told Kimmie with wide eyes. She looked strange, her face a holograph; fear, exhilaration, delight, and embarrassment manifested there in turn.

Kimmie could barely hide her despair. It was only a month after the Her confession regarding the mysterious beau. So much for the future of their beloved friendship. Who was this guy? Kimmie hadn’t even met him. Their lives would diverge spectacularly.

“Congrats,” Kimmie said tersely, swallowing all her objections. She looked so happy, joy being the emotion that finally settled on her face. But that didn’t keep Kimmie from stewing. It just was three months to the day that they’d gotten back in town and less than a month from when She had told Kimmie about the existence of RJ. This had all happened so fast.

“He must be some guy,” Kimmie thought.

______________________

“Girl! When am I going to meet this RJ?? You are CARRYING his BABY and you’re nearly seven months along! How is it that your bestie still hasn’t met the father of your child?”

She looked down at her bump, cradled between her two dainty hands. It – along with the rest of her – was weirdly small for someone so far along in their pregnancy.

“I’m just – we’re taking it slow.”

Kimmie snorted, looking pointedly at the crest of Her stomach.

“I know. I guess – I’m enjoying this just being the two of us, for now. Everything got so hard core so suddenly, so I’m just trying to make everything else as uncomplicated as possible,” She replied.

“How is me meeting RJ complicated? I want to meet him. You’re my best friend. If our relationship is going to continue – and it will, it has to  – I need to know the guy who knocked you up. It’s important to me.”

She bit her lip, thinking.

“Why does she look so nervous?” Kimmie wondered.

“Ok. You’re right. Next week, let’s meet at that restaurant your dad always takes us to. The one with the great Rueben? I’ve been craving one like crazy.”

Kimmie smiled, relieved. “Portside. Sure! Next week. Text me the time that works for you. I’m excited.”

She, on the other hand, looked terrified.

_________________

Kimmie checked her phone again.

“Where is She?” Kimmie wondered. “She’s never – ”

Kimmie’s thoughts were obliterated by the sudden appearance of her best friend. At least, that’s who she thought it was.

It had been a week. Just seven days. And in that time, her friend’s body had completely bloomed. Being pregnant, that was hardly a total shock, but the swiftness of the change was startling – especially considering that She had, until recently, been carrying so small.

“Act normal,” Kimmie told herself, rearranging her face to as neutral an expression she could muster. It took effort, and Kimmie was glad She noticed her yet; it allowed Kimmie the extra time she needed to fully observe the extent of her friend’s transformation.

There was the belly, of course, which had popped so powerfully that Her spine curved to accommodate its girth. It had become so conspicuous that Kimmie wagered had she not known who this woman was, she would assume She was due any day. Indeed, Her hips, legs and ass had ballooned proportionate to Her core, demolishing the girl’s (once enviable) hourglass figure and replacing it with pronounced pear shape.

“She already looks like a mom,” Kimmie thought to herself.

Those weren’t the only changes, Kimmie noticed to her disappointment. Jutting out from the apex of her friend’s stomach was the outline of Her fully popped navel, thick and rubbery like a third nipple under Her swollen fingers.

Speaking of nipples, Her breasts had blossomed into massive, milky teats at least two cups bigger than her typical size. Even though Kimmie could see the outlines of a bra underneath Her clothes, it did little to conceal Her hulking nipples, newly elongated and stout like bottle caps on Her chest. There was an ache-y neediness about them; to Kimmie, they screamed, “suck me dry, they’re so heavy it HURTS.”

Her heavy waddle – which She did NOT have to resort to when Kimmie had seen her just those seven short days ago – was a co-conspirator with Her attire in making Her look completely wanton. Every jiggle of her massive tits; every breath that stretched her belly; every shake of her thigh and ass; every step of her swollen feet in strappy sandals; every line of her heavy-duty bra and tiny lacey thong was given a spotlight by the forward thrust of her gait and the skin-tight pencil dress that somehow made it up and over the collection of globes that was once Her body. It didn’t help that moving required the forward thrust of her monstrous core, requiring her to splay her hips forward and balance a hand on the small of her back, a swollen rudder for her ripened form. 

“Why is she WEARING that?” Kimmie thought to herself, willing herself not to blush with the secondhand embarrassment.

It was then that She finally noticed Kimmie, her bloated face contorting into a nervous smile.

______________________

After having to move their seats from a booth to a table (She couldn’t fit), waiting through Her three bathroom runs, and ordering an ungodly amount of food (“I’m eating for two, you know,” She had wryly, with shy pat of her tummy), She and Kimmie were finally settled.

“So! I can’t wait to finally meet this guy. RJ! Finally!” Kimmie said, trying her best to normalize their conversation. She was met with silence.

“Um – you ok? Still glad you’re gonna be a baby momma? That dress sure doesn’t make it seem that way.”

“I know, right? RJ, he’s particular. He asked me to wear it today, otherwise I’d be in something elastic and stretchy and that lets me breatheeeee.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I mean, I’m huge now. It happened overnight. And it’s a strain on me, in a lot of ways, and the baby shit is happening quicker than I had planned. I mean, I’m a freshman in college, for fuck’s sake.”

She was babbling.  

“But this guy – RJ – he’s the love of my life and Kimmie, I want you to know that I -- ”

Kimmie was suddenly distracted from Her ramblings by a familiar figure waving and quickly approaching the table.

“This must be him,” she thought, only to realize with surprise it was her father, Randy. He hadn’t told her he was ordering out for lunch today. “He could’ve at least asked me if I wanted anything!”

“Dad! Hey! What are you doing here?” Kmmie said with a smile. “I’m about to meet the boyfriend. The one who She’s having the baby with! I told you She was pregnant, remember?”

He grinned, sheepishly, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s why I’m here, actually.”

Randy’s hope that his daughter would put two and two together quickly was immediately dashed.

“Oh? You … know the guy, or ���?”

He swallowed a nervous laugh as he reached out his hands – one to clasp Her’s, the other to place possessively on her ponderous belly.

“Kimmie honey, I am the guy,” he said.

[moonfire0mermaid]

You Thought Right || Ch. 1: Better Start Hiking

18-year-old Nina always thought there were nearly imperceptible sparks between her and her first-period math teacher, Tom. Or at the very least, dreamed there were. It isn't until 10 years later at her high school reunion when she learns that she was right all along - and the love, sex and complications that this knowledge brings will change her life - and many others - forever. || This will be a multi-part smutty and very ADULT novella that I will routinely update! 

Nina would always remember the day this all started. Even if nothing monumental had occurred and she hadn’t met the man who had upended her life, it had been her eighteenth birthday, after all. And, unfortunately, the very first day of the spring semester. The party had to wait until the next weekend. 

The memory began with her toting the bouquet of balloons and her favorite muffin to her first period at West Cannon High School. She had her hair brown hair pulled back with some beautiful star barrettes her sister gave her as an early morning gift, and she felt luminescent and indestructible in the way only high school seniors can. Nina remembered herself then: exceptional student, well-rounded (National Honor Society; newspaper; the school musical) and well-liked by her teachers and peers.

It hadn’t hurt her social standing that she was pretty in a girl-next-door way, boasting thick, tight thighs and a small waist from the after-school sports (what she lacked in exceptional talent she made up for in work ethic). But her self-esteem was inconsistent, and the only thing she loved deeply about her body were her big, round blue eyes that got comments of admiration wherever she went. And, to her embarrassment, she was obsessed with her DD breasts.

While she could never bring herself to practice self-affirmations in the mirror like some of the body positive influencers suggested doing on Instagram, she was able to whisper ministrations to her fleshy tits and her pert pink nipples every morning when she slipped on her bra. The deep cleavage they created thrilled her. After all, they were big for her small frame, and seeing the slight incongruity of her chest with the rest of her body made her feel lush and feminine and deeply horny. 

The general lustiness was hardly uncommon, however, as Nina was a growingly impatient virgin. The late-night masturbation sessions weren’t cutting it anymore. Besides, she’d have to stay up reading later than was probably healthy until her parents fell asleep. It was only then that she felt comfortable slipping down her panties and begin the assault on her clit long after midnight. While she had been becoming increasingly adept at getting herself off, its imposition into her sleep schedule was really making her early mornings a drag. So: It was this girl – no, woman, as her eighteenth birthday (seemingly arbitrarily) decreed her to be – who strode into first period, organic chemistry. 

“Blech, chem,” Nina thought, slipping into a seat in the middle of the empty classroom. The dip in mood didn’t last long. She may have hated the idea of a semester’s worth of early morning algebra, and she may have been tired from last night’s – activities – it was her birthday, after all. And she had these balloons and breakfast courtesy of her best friend, Molly. And she’d be getting attention all day. And she had a party to look forward to. AND, because she was early and alone, she had time to daydream about said party, and how she’d get Jack (classmate, all-state shot putter, total babe) to fuck her. Thank GOD her dad let her host the shindig at Taylor’s parent’s beach place and not at home. It meant booze, it meant edibles, it meant that lingerie/blazer outfit combo that would give her father a heart attack. And more importantly, it meant getting her cherry popped. The thought of his dick splitting her open made her flush, heat licking at her core. 

Nina was brought down to earth by the flutter of her balloons as someone strode in the room. 

“Birthday, huh?” Said a droll voice. “Nice balloons. What a totally age-appropriate way to celebrate adulthood.”

The stranger caught her in the middle of a particularly delicious scene in her party fantasy, and to make matters worse, they were kinda mean. If she had to be distracted, it would have been nice to have it be with something (or someone) pleasant. 

Fluster passing, she looked up and willed herself to stop blushing. Nina refused to let whomever this was think they got under her skin.  What she saw was an unfamiliar man, standing by the door with arms crossed and eyes expectant. He must be ... late 20s, early 30s? He was tall, clearly leaning into looking like Harry Potter, what with the unkempt dark hair, bright eyes and glasses. 

Unlike the beloved hero of childhood literature (well, discounting the fifth book), this man had an of defensiveness permeating his entire being. Yet observing him somehow made Nina sort of ... lonely on his behalf.

Not that that was any of her business. He was ostensibly a teacher. At least, her certainly dressed like one, Nina thought. There was the too-long tie with garish print that snaked down to his too-baggy pants, which skimmed the dull brown tops of scuffed dress shoes. His whole looked screamed, “I’m financially crippled by my student loans.” 

“Must explain the sarcastic mortician vibes,” she thought. “Jeez.” Still taken aback by what she would later learn was his penchant for playful sarcasm, she scowled through narrowed eyes. 

“If someone is so dead inside that they’re unable to enjoy the simple pleasure of a birthday balloon, they’re too bitter to function and should jump of a cliff,” Nina deadpanned.He scoffed, amused. “Well, by your bizarre metric, I better start hiking.” Oh, he was a smart ass, huh? Looked like she was going to have to fight fire with fire. “Are you not a morning person or are you always like this?” “Both. I’m Mr. Gallagher, and I truly am bitter,” he said, finally cracking a half-smile. “I may be new to West Cannon, but if you haven’t already figured out that this is my class, well, you’re going to have a hard time.” “I was able to put that together,” she said, her voice dripping with manufactured derision. Bantering. It was always such a rush. “I’m Nina. I know I’ll hate chem, I'm in this solely to get into college, and you’re already making it worse.” The smirk widened. “Hiiiii Nina,” Mr. Mr. Gallagher said. “Glad to see that I’m already doing my job!” It was the first time that his voice had any animation in it, the sarcasm evident as he turned away to prep the white board. She couldn’t see it, but he was full-teeth smiling to himself. “She’s sharp,” he thought. “Glad there’s one I don’t already hate.” It was then that the classroom had begun to swarm with bleary-eyed students, hurrying to get to their seat before the announcements boomed over the PA system. Nina took out her binder amidst all the chaos, sighing. What a weird guy. “This is going to be an interesting semester,” she thought.