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serasvictoria · 1 year ago

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Title: Roller Queen

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: A heatwave has hit Hawkins and bored out of his mind, Eddie tries to find something to do. He finds that something in the Palace Arcade…

Word Count: 6997

Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Semi-public sex. Oral sex (male receiving). Vaginal fingering.

Notes: This is what you get when you spend quite some time on Pinterest during a heatwave and suddenly finding a picture that just inspires you. The picture is all the way at the end, it just worked for me.

There is also one mention of the name Arlo in this and that's what I called the unnamed Hellfire member aka Corroded Coffin’s bass player, also known as the titular “Freak”. There’s an entire backstory in regards to why I gave him that name, but I won’t bore anyone to tears with that particular HC.

Betaread by @adrille88 Thanks again ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

If he was really honest with himself, Eddie had to admit that he kind of liked heatwaves.

All the assholes would leave the town of Hawkins, abandoning the hot and humid place like a bunch of rats leaving a sinking ship, and they’d go spend a couple of days at their log cabins near some lake, leaving all the less fortunate residents behind.

Not that he thought that he was less fortunate, fuck no. He wouldn’t want golden boy Jason Carver’s shiny life. Sitting next to mommy, wearing his Sunday best and listening to daddy as he preached fire and brimstone to the congregation as they clutched their crucifixes. Lord knew where the bastard was now. Probably forced to suck up to some senator’s kid whilst he pretended that he wasn’t from some backwater shithole in Indiana.

So yeah, heatwaves weren’t all that bad. Besides, you could dress for the heat.

He was currently lazing about on the porch in an old pair of jeans that were cutoff right above the knee. His Motörhead shirt (which he had also modified after he tore it making it sleeveless as well as a little bit too short) was in a crumpled heap right next to him.

The only thing that was bugging him at the moment was trying to decide what to do.

It was the first summer after graduation, so he should have been spoiled for choice, but sadly that was not the case at all.

Steve and Robin were at work, like Jeff, and he didn’t feel like bothering them at their workplaces. Again. Dustin was at some kind of robotics camp. Wheeler had joined the Byers family for their last summer in California before they moved back to Hawkins. The Sinclairs were visiting relatives, as was Gareth. Arlo had been signed up for summer classes by his mother because he was failing a couple of classes.

So there was currently no one that he could shoot the shit with.

Usually Eddie wouldn’t have any problems on his own, he’d almost grown accustomed to it when he was a kid, but he was bored out of his mind at the moment. Didn’t help that he was coming off his previous high as well.

Absentmindedly scratching his neck, he brushed away some of the locks of hair that had come loose from his ponytail and that were sticking to his sweaty skin. He’d already taken a cold shower earlier and even that wasn’t enough to fight the heat.

The AC had also gone on the fritz at the worst possible time so staying in his bedroom wasn’t an option. Which meant that jacking off was off the cards, too. Because hey, when in doubt, jerk off. It was basically an unwritten rule.

Everyone that was still in town had either gone to the community pool or the woods, but those weren’t really places where we wanted or could go to. Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock were places that were worth considering, but you never knew if you’d disturb anyone whilst there and some people didn’t take too kindly to having an audience. And even if they were keen to have onlookers, that didn’t automatically mean that they’d want him there.

There wasn’t really much else to do apart from aimlessly driving through town until he found something that was worth his while.

Getting to his feet with a groan, he stretched out, grabbed his discarded shirt from the couch and put it on. His keys and cigarettes were on the small table next to him so he pocketed the packet of smokes and then locked the front door (even if no one was insane enough to attempt to steal anything from them, what with them having the good old Munson name and all).

As expected the van was hot as hell, so he rolled the windows all the way down on both sides before starting the engine and heading out of the trailer park in search of something to do.

Driving around town, he’s reminded of that Ghost Town song by The Specials (Robin was going through a bit of a ska phase at the moment) and before he knew it he was humming it which was in stark contrast to the Megadeth song, Wake Up Dead, that was currently blasting through the speakers.

Despite having previously decided that he wasn’t going to go to Family Video, he found himself driving in that direction anyway. Maybe Eddie could convince Steve to give him access to his backyard so he could have a dip in his pool in exchange for a couple of joints? Worth a shot.

This brought him right past the arcade, which was practically next door, a place that he hadn’t set foot in for quite some time. Together with Harrington, he seemed to have earned the dubious privilege of dropping the kids off there quite frequently, but he never joined them despite Henderson asking him to do so every single time.

He wasn’t about to have his ass kicked by some kid at-

Eddie swore that his eyes were seconds away from rolling out of their sockets.

All that he caught was a quick peek through the open doors of the arcade, but it had been enough to make him punch the brakes of his van and he came to a standstill right in front of the building.

Eddie had never parked his van so fast in his life.

When he got out of the van and walked across the asphalt to his destination, nerves set in, which was insane when he really thought about it. Why was he even nervous? Was it because he was seconds away from shooting his shot and potentially getting horrifically turned down?

The name of the place was lit up in purple neon on the awning over the doorway. Unbelievable that this was something that could make him set foot in the place after all this time, having seemingly graduated from it many years previous, constantly proclaiming that it wasn’t “his scene” since books and board games were more his thing.

That was a better excuse than saying that he had simply been unable to afford it. Money had always been tight in the Munson household and wasting a couple of quarters on something that he couldn’t even take home with him or put in his belly seemed pointless.

There’s an acne stricken teenager sitting on a folding chair next to the open door, a look of annoyance on his face that betrayed the fact that he didn’t want to be here at all.

“There’s a change machine inside. You know where to find me if it stops working,” he says with a bored tone when Eddie passes him by. The kid doesn’t say it, but his line sounds well practiced, leading him to believe that the aforementioned machine must have some issues.

It also sounds like the kid has no intention of going inside unless he absolutely must.

So that means that no one will see Eddie crash and burn if he does. And if he doesn’t, there won’t be anyone to disturb him either, so it was a win-win situation no matter what.

It was cooler inside, but only slightly. The AC was old and far too small to cool such a large space, but it still tried to do its job to the best of its abilities.

There were plenty of noises around him, machines beeping in an attempt to make him look at them, to make him see what he could play if he would only give them a couple of coins. He barely even seems to notice them at all, not caring about what the games have to offer him.

Not now.

The row of games that were visible from the door are all vacant. No one’s there to pour over them, desperately trying to win, so he moves on to the row next to it as he tries to find what he’s looking for. He’s about to turn the corner into the third, already somewhat convinced that his mind had been playing tricks on him, that the heat had fried his brain, when he comes to a sudden standstill and simply stares at the image before him.

Eddie had not imagined it, hadn’t gotten a severe case of heatstroke, hadn’t witnessed a mirage or anything of the sort. Even if mirage was probably the best word to describe what he was looking at.

You were leaning over the controls of one of the machines, tapping away at the buttons and moving the joystick back and forth.

That in itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Dustin often spoke of you with awe in his voice, regaling everyone with how good you were at the games at the arcade. You and Max held a lot of the high scores and that was pure catnip to the younger boys who only cared about trivial things like that. The fact that you were older only seemed to make you more appealing to them.

A fellow nerd.

An older fellow nerd.

An attractive, older fellow nerd.

Eddie had never really gotten it until now, but that was more down to what you were wearing, which was a lot more revealing than what you had worn when you still walked through the hallways of Hawkins High. Hell, Principal Higgins would probably have a heart attack if someone wore that to school.

In an effort to fight the heat, you were wearing a pair of cut off blue sweatpants, which were so short that they might as well be hotpants, and a dark blue bikini top. And on your feet were the signature roller skates that were very much an extension of yourself as it were.

He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen you without them when you weren’t in school or working. There’s even a story about how you kicked Andy Collins in the balls with them once, but no one has ever been able to confirm that particular story since it was very much based on hearsay.

It is a fact however that Andy doesn’t seem to sniff around you quite as much as he does with every other (single) female in town. Had to be a reason for that.

The corner of your mouth twitches, so you definitely noticed that you had an audience of one by now. It would be rude not to go over to say hello, right? Right? So Eddie starts moving, unsteady on his feet all of a sudden, like he had forgotten how to walk simply because he was in the presence of such beauty.

“Hi,” he croaks out and he raises his hand in greeting. “Pretty hot outside, huh.” He mentally slaps himself for saying that, because why on Earth had he decided to state the obvious? Guess that meant that trying to act cool had gone straight out the window. His remark makes you snort though, which he supposes is a win of sorts. “Anyway. Hi.”

“Hi,” you say with a grin, doing your best not to laugh, as you look up for a few seconds before focusing all your attention back on the game. “Don’t see you round here a lot.”

“Not much of a gamer,” Eddie admits, which technically wasn’t true, but he didn’t think that he had to clarify that he was talking about video games. You would have seen him around the arcade a lot more if he was into those.

“So why’re you here then?”

“Thought I’d check the place out. Henderson’s always talking about it.”

“Ah, Henderson,” you sigh and there’s a hint of exhaustion there that almost makes him laugh. “And that’s enough to get you to show up?”

“Maybe not just that.” His eyes skate over the curve of your ass and when he looks back at your face again, he can see that your eyebrows are raised. Subtlety had never been his strong point. “Busted,” he chuckles.

“Hm,” is all that he gets out of you before you look back at the screen once more.

Eddie tries his best to feign an interest in the game that you’re playing, Bubble Bobble, by trying to keep his eyes peeled on the screen. Even thinks about commenting on the cuteness of the green dinosaur that’s blowing bubbles at his enemies, but he doesn’t out of fear of looking like a complete fool. He actually opens his mouth once with the intention of commenting on how well you’re playing, but what the hell is he supposed to say?

‘Good game, hot stuff, but do you wanna get out of here and play a real game in the back of my van instead?’

Bad idea. Really bad idea. He’d prefer it if his nuts didn’t meet the boot of your skates. That would be a horrible ending to what was turning out to be a pretty good day so far. He’d like to end it on a high if he could, preferably with your phone number scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket.

Damn, this was easier when he could hide behind his usual bravado, but he’d already fucked that one up from the moment that he started talking to you. Hell, he couldn’t even hide behind his hair, because it was in a messy ponytail right now.

Still, you haven’t told him to fuck off just yet so it wasn’t a complete disaster. He leans back against the side of the machine next to yours and he really looks at you this time.

God damn, he had always thought that you were pretty, but fuck, you looked good enough to eat right now. He catches the glint of a bead of sweat as it rolls down your neck, following it as it makes its way down your skin and ultimately disappears into the fabric of your bikini top.

Eddie can almost taste the salt on his tongue if he thinks about it hard enough.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Your voice cuts through the first wisps of the daydream that was forming in the back of his mind, one that already had his cock twitching in his pants, seconds away from begging him to excuse himself so he could jerk off in his van.

“I would if I had a camera,” he bites back.

You shake your head and sigh and a couple of seconds later the game makes a noise, something that even a newbie like him knew wasn’t good. As if to emphasize this, the words “game over” appear on the black screen.

“Thought you were good.”

“My heart wasn’t in it,” you say while the screen starts flashing the ‘insert coin’ message on the screen in an attempt to lure in new players. “It’s this damn heat.”

“Maybe you don’t do well with an audience.”

“You’re shitting me, right? You know how many times I have those little shitheads breathing down my neck?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “A lot?”

“Yup. I barely get any alone time as it is.”

There’s a sudden flush of guilt and he can feel his cheeks burn as they begin to color a dark shade of pink. He’s bothering you. You never said it, but that's what he reads between the lines.

“You want me to leave?” He’s already turning away from you, instantly apologetic, so he’s surprised when he feels your fingers touch his wrist.

“Did I say that?” He’s watching your hand, noticing the gentle pull on his arm which doesn’t stop until he makes no move to leave anymore. “Did I?”

Since you repeat yourself, you’re obviously expecting an answer. The only problem is that the heat combined with your touch are kind of short circuiting his brain.

Eddie eventually manages to get out a small “No?” which he considers a victory. At least it shows that he’s still capable of speech, if only a little.

“No,” you repeat after him and he’s instantly relaxed when he finds that his presence does seem to be wanted after all. He can’t stop his expression from falling a little when your hand lets go of his arm. “But you say you’re not a gamer. Maybe you just haven’t found one that you like yet.”

“Sweetheart, I haven’t been in here for years,” he says with a casual wave of his hand. “The flashing lights are about to give me an epileptic fit.”

“Was that a joke?”

“Yeah?”

“That was so funny I forgot to laugh,” you deadpan.

The flat tone of your voice makes him snort as well as make him wonder why he has never tried talking to you before.

He supposes that it was a form of thinly veiled jealousy over the kids liking you so much. But who cares about them? And why is he thinking about them so much anyway? Being in the presence of a hot girl combined with the stifling heat was really doing a number on his brain, that was for s-

You clap your hands together in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time since he was with you.

“Anyway!” you exclaim and clear your throat before continuing. “There’s a couple of old games in the back. Maybe you’d even recognise some of them, oldtimer. Want me to show you?”

“Which ones?”

“Pong, Death Race, Space Invaders, Asteroids… ring a bell?”

“Always was quite partial to Death Race actually.”

“Figures,” you grin. “Come on then,” you say as you push yourself away from the cabinet and start leading the way.

Eddie lets you take the lead, because it means that he can walk behind you and his eyes drop down immediately, unashamedly ogling your ass as you glide through the arcade.

On your way to the back, he hears the crinkling of plastic and watches you remove the orange wrapper from a lollipop before it disappears into your mouth. He swallows hard when your jaw moves, your cheek bulging as you keep moving the candy from side to side. He’s practically salivating as he tries very hard not to let his mind come up with images of how your cheeks would look if there was something else in your-

“There she is,” you break through his reverie again and he briefly wonders if it’s intentional, if you have some kind of inbuilt radar that alerts you whenever a guy is about to have some very impure thoughts in your vicinity. “Death Race.”

You point out the black cabinet at the end of the row of machines, the two steering wheels making it instantly recognisable. You come to a standstill right next to it and wave your hand over the front of it, like some bikini babe that they sometimes use to advertise cars.

“Goddamn,” he whistles in wonder. “Didn’t know they still had this one.”

“They do,” you reply as you stand to his left. “Don’t think they ever get rid of a game if it’s still working.” You dig around in your pocket and hold out a quarter to him. “Here. First game’s on me.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie takes the quarter from your fingers and puts it in the slot. “I’ll try to make it last.”

Unfortunately it doesn’t last that long. Sadly, he’s a little bit rusty. Not that he was any good when he still came here, but he finds himself wanting to impress you as much as he can.

Eddie’s on his fourth quarter when there’s an almost sickening crunch from your direction. Eddie looks up from the screen to see you chewing on the hard candy of your lollipop and he catches you tossing the stick in a garbage bin behind you. He wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue when your hand suddenly connects with his chest and he’s pushed back against the wall.

“Hey, wh-”

-at the hell.

The rest of the sentence comes out all muffled, because your lips crash into his hard. There’s barely time to close his mouth and you enthusiastically take advantage of that by licking into his mouth, your tongue connecting with his, and he can taste nothing but oranges. When he starts kissing you back, he can taste the same artificial nectarine flavor in your lip gloss.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you in closer and you sigh when his hands start rubbing up and down your back. You even giggle when one hand dips down lower and grabs your ass cheek.

There’s no opposition from him when you push him to the side, in between the opening between the black cabinet and the wall, one that the both of you fit into neatly, effectively shielding you and him from the view of others just enough.

Not that there was anyone else there apart from the bored employee that was still sitting outside and even he wouldn’t be able to see what the pair of you are doing from where he’s sitting.

“Aren’t-“ You pull away just far enough so Eddie can look in your eyes for a split second, see how blown out your pupils are, and then you dip your head down so you can drag your lips over his neck. “Aren’t you scared that anyone might see us?”

“No.” Your reply comes far too quickly and your teeth graze his Adam's apple slightly. “Why?”

“Wh- are you serious?”

“Mhm,” you hum against his skin. He gasps when you suck on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. “So sensitive.”

“Fuck.” At least Eddie can sort of peer into the space behind you now. He catches no movement whatsoever. And it’s not as if the arcade is rigged up with security cameras either. You stick your hands underneath his shirt, your fingers finding his nipples with ease and pinching them. “Damn, sweetheart.”

“What?” You look up at him, batting your eyelids almost too innocently, and when he doesn’t reply, you lick a stripe from the dip in his collarbone all the way up to his ear. “Cute,” you say directly into his ear before you gently tug on his lobe with your teeth. “You’re cute.”

Your intent couldn’t be more clear however. You wanted him and you were laying it on so thick that it was hard to ignore. It was all in the hungry way that you kissed him, filled with lust and longing, full of heat and desire.

Even though there shouldn’t be any mistaking your intentions, Eddie still wonders when it would be acceptable to invite you into his van. If he does it too early, you might smack him for being a perv, but if he does it too late, you might mistake it for disinterest, which would be a million miles off from what he wants. If only he had talked to you before, he would know what you were like a bit more, but all he has to go on are stories from Henderson and a handful of rumors.

There’s an unexpected brush of your fingers over the front of his jeans and it’s so light that he mistakes it for being accidental at first, but when it happens again and then again, it becomes a bit more difficult to ignore.

“Oh?” The triumphant tone in your voice is impossible to miss, because now you know that he was already half hard before and that was definitely because of you. “Thought that you had a couple of rolls of quarters in your pocket, but I think I was wrong.”

“You use that line a lot?”

The words came out too easily after all so naturally he’s curious, maybe even a little jealous, but he would never admit to that.

“Please,” you chuckle, “you think so little of me?”

“I don’t know. Don’t know you that well. Unfortunately.”

“You could get to know me. If you want to.”

“Hmmm. Tough question. Let me think about it.”

Eddie meant it as a joke, obviously, but he doesn’t miss how your brows furrow and how your hand stops moving, even if you can’t seem to stop your fingernails from scratching at the fabric.

His hips end up chasing your hand when you pull it away.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie blinks, suddenly confused. “Is that a trick question?”

“Nope, just an honest one.”

“No.” It’s his turn to answer quickly now. And Christ, he feels like such a fucking dickhead for giving you the impression that he might not want this. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good,” you reply with a grin that’s bordering on feral, “because I really didn’t want to.”

“Then wh-?” He cuts off his sentence because your hand is back on his crotch again. You touch him with more intent now and he wonders if you can feel his dick twitching through the thick fabric. “Fuck.”

“Cause you looked a bit uncomfortable for a couple of seconds there. Figured that it was because of me.”

“It wasn’t, sweetheart. Trust me. Just never had a pretty girl seconds away from making me come in my pants like a schoolboy in a public place before.”

“Hmmm. I can think of something a lot better than that.” His eyes widen when you drop down onto your knees and start undoing his belt. “All you need to do is stay quiet.” A strangled kind of noise comes out of his mouth and it makes you grin even wider. “Think you can do that?”

“I’ll fucking try,” he squeaks out when you pull his pants down roughly to expose his underwear and his pale thighs. “I’ll really fucking try.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.” Your hand rubs over the front of his boxers and he groans low in his throat. “No louder than that, okay?” You pull the last cloth barrier down, unveiling his cock and it proudly stands at attention. “Oh god,” you say, obviously impressed, “prettiest cock I��ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah?” You lick at the glistening bead of precum on the tip and your eyes close briefly as you taste him. The noise you make is exaggerated, but fuck, who cares? “Like it that much?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer as the tip of your tongue starts following the trail of a prominent vein on the side of his shaft, chasing it all the way down to the base and then back up again. “I do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh when you finally wrap your lips around his cock and let him slip halfway into your mouth. You sit there, looking all pretty, your eyes on his, and he already knows that he won’t be able to get this image out of his head for as long as he lives.

You bob down a bit further, a mere inch at most, and then release him with a soft pop. You spit on your palm, circle your fingers around the shaft, and start working him with your hand.

Ducking your head, you sink your teeth into his pale thigh and then lick the already slightly reddening mark. You repeat this a few more times, much to Eddie’s amusement. The slight sting of your bites in combination with the movement of your hand are pushing him ever closer to the edge.

Having teased him enough, you take his dick into your mouth again and he briefly wonders if you would have still done this if the place had been a bit more crowded. Not that he thinks that the sound of screaming kids would have done anything to kill his boner. If anything, the sheer thought of there being a greater possibility of getting caught only turns him on more.

When you cup his balls and start massaging them, Eddie hisses through his teeth. Fuck, he really wasn’t gonna last long. He also had no idea how he was supposed to stay quiet. He didn’t consider himself particularly noisy (he was), but he liked talking and there was no way that he would be able to control the volume of his voice.

Not when you kept eagerly sucking him off and especially not when you were pairing it with a look that was practically spelling out how much you loved having his dick in your mouth.

You also look like you want him to crack, like you desperately want him to make noises that are way too loud, like you want to get caught giving him head in the back of the arcade.

“Shit,” he groans as softly as he can and he can feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Can’t help it,” he says, softer now. “Feels too fucking good.”

Humming around his length, you hollow out your cheeks and when your hands lightly grasp the back of his thighs so your fingertips can dance up and down his skin, he shudders.

Saliva was bubbling at the corners of your mouth and fuck, it has to be one of the hottest things that he’s ever seen. His hand instantly moves of its own volition, moving to the back of your head, and he pushes you down for a split second, stopping when your fingernails dig into his skin. He loosens his grip, giving you ample opportunity to pull away, but you don’t and your eyes are almost flashing a challenge to him, practically daring him to do it again.

So he does.

This time he holds you down a little bit longer, forcing you to take him in a little bit deeper and instantly letting go when you make a gagging noise. You stay right where you are, his dick halfway in your mouth, eyes still a little defiant, so he does it again, harder, and forcing his cock in deeper still. The discomfort is plain to see and when your fingernails drag down the back of his thighs harshly, he can feel it, too, but your grip on his legs relaxes soon enough. He scratches your scalp affectionately.

Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, threatening to overflow, and his hand releases you so he can wipe at the corners of one of your eyes, in an attempt to brush your tears away.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart,” he admits. “You just look so fucking good like that.” You blink once which finally makes the tears spill out. “Good tears though, huh?” You make an affirmative noise even if he already knows the answer. “Good ‘cause I’m seconds away from coming all down that pretty throat of yours.”

He catches a glint in your eye, as if his words spurred you on, but Eddie’s entirely unprepared for what you do next.

Your hands grab his hips and you plunge your mouth all the way down his length until your lips make contact with the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You gag around him, but you inhale deeply through your nose and manage to stay down for a bit longer.

Your throat muscles contracting around his cock is what pushes him over the edge and he comes in thick spurts down your throat. He bangs the back of his head against the wall behind him, his lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from shouting as he climaxes. His hands are balled to fists at his sides and he slams them against the wall as a form of channeling the pent-up energy that has nowhere else to go.

It takes him a short while to come back to his senses and his hands shake when he relaxes his grip. When he hazards a glance down, you’re still on your knees, his now soft cock still in your hands as you’re lazily licking up and down his shaft.

Reaching for your face, he touches the corner of your mouth and mumbles the words, “Show me.” You stick your tongue out obediently, showing him that there’s not a single drop of his cum left. “Good girl.”

Exhaling shakily, he manages to say, “up,” a couple of times, his fingers hooking under your chin and pulling in an effort to make you move faster. As soon as you’re on your feet, his lips crash into yours, his tongue invading your mouth until he can taste himself on your tongue.

His hands are everywhere. On your ass, your hips, your tits. He simply doesn’t know what to grab first, and it’s not like you seem to care either with how content your sighs are.

Changing positions, he pushes you up against the wall and hurriedly pulls his boxers and shorts back up. Your hands take over to zip him back up this time, leaving his hands free to pull the cups of your bikini top to the sides and burying his face between your tits.

“Like that,” you breathe out when his lips finally find one of your nipples. “Just like that.”

“So sensitive,” he remarks with a grin, positively delighted that he can throw your earlier words right back at you this time. “I wonder…” He trails off and brushes a hand down your stomach, light as a feather, until his fingers come to a stop at the waistband of your shorts. “May I?”

You’re nodding before he even manages to get the words out, betraying your eagerness and perhaps your impatience. So naturally that makes Eddie move slower than he would have, taking his time to undo the bow that keeps the drawstring of your shorts tied together, and even when that’s undone, he slides his digits underneath the fabric painstakingly slowly.

“Eddieeeee,” you whine, “stop teasing.”

“Who’s teasing?”

“You are,” you pout. “Not like we have all day.”

“We don’t?” You’re ready to say more, he can tell, but he knows you’re right. And he doesn’t know what you’ll do if he keeps teasing, so he slips his fingers into your panties and slides them between your folds. “Jesus, baby, you’re soaked.”

“Mhm,” you bite your lower lip and nod.

“You got this wet just from having my dick in your mouth?” You moan affirmatively. “Poor thing. Seems only right that I help you out then, right?” One of his fingers probes your entrance, not quite pressing inside yet. Not until you answer him. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper. “N-need to feel your fingers inside me.”

“Come on,” he husks against your cheek, “spread your legs a little wider.” You give him some more space to work with and he slides the digit in with ease. “Good girl.”

Your head drops forward onto his shoulder, your mouth almost level with his ear so he can hear every shaky breath and strangled moan. It makes him add another finger, plunging them deeper inside and curling them upward until he hits your sweet spot. Your walls spasm and contract around his fingers, trying to keep them there.

“Really want to get my mouth on you, sweetheart,” he husks against your temple.

“No time,” you answer. “R-raincheck?”

“You’d better,” he chuckles. He just knew that he’d be taking you up on that offer before the end of the day.

Fuck, if he had his way, he’d be on his knees in front of you right now. Your ass pushed up against the controls of the Pong machine, his head buried between your thighs, until you’re screaming so loud that it drowns out every other fucking sound in this place.

If only he’d asked you to come with him, he’d have had his wish.

His thumb finds your swollen and neglected clit with ease. His touch sends a shockwave through you which makes your whole body jolt. You grab at his shoulders, his name on your lips as your fingernails leave crescent shaped marks in the sections of his skin which aren’t covered by his shirt.

Your breath hitches and you let out a choked sob, only to have Eddie cut off any other sounds that you might make by pressing his lips against yours and swallowing all your delicious noises, effectively silencing you. Your thighs convulse around his palm, trapping his hand between them.

Reaching upward, you grab at his tied back hair, wrapping the ponytail around your fingers and pulling until your hand, along with all the other muscles in your body, go slack.

“Mmmm.” You sigh against his lips and he pulls away just far enough to see your blissed out features as you float back down to Earth. “Always knew you’d be good with your fingers.”

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?” Your face splits into a grin and he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You open your mouth to speak, but you’re distracted by Eddie sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking your juices from them. Cupping his cheeks, you lean forward and your lips brush together when a loud scream suddenly cuts through the relative silence. Startled, it makes your eyes snap open, but you visibly relax when it dawns on you that the noise isn’t anywhere near where the two of you are.

“I wanna play that one,” an underage voice shouts and it’s answered by a decidedly more bored adult voice. “Come on!” The child sounds impatient and is probably dragging the adult behind him in the direction of the game of his choice.

“Shame that,” you say as you adjust your top, covering your chest up once more. You move away from him and he hates the fact that there’s space between you now. “I totally would have let you fuck me as I played the pinball machines.”

“I have a van,” he replies, helpful and hopeful at the same time.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You stick a hand in your pocket and he thinks he can hear you jingle some coins. “Still got some quarters left so you’re shit out of luck.”

“You’re just going to play a couple more games after that?“

“Uh, yeah? I never leave until I’m all out of quarters. Sorry.” Eddie’s expression falls, but his smile returns when you press your lips against his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Can’t you wait a little bit longer like a good boy? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You give his lips a quick peck and wink. “If you think I’m going to end this day without having your dick inside me then you’re an idiot.”

Someone clears their throat loudly behind you and when you turn, you see what you can only assume is the owner of the bored adult voice earlier.

“There are kids in here, you know,” the man huffs.

“I don’t see any,” you say as you flip him off. “Or are you talking about yourself?” You grab Eddie’s hand and pull him along with you. “Come on, babe. Let’s leave these games for the kids, huh? We both got what we wanted. For now.”

The implication of what you’d done there hangs in the air as Eddie lets you lead him past the man and he barks out a laugh when he sees the furious, and dare he say frustrated, expression on his face.

Fully expecting to leave, he can’t hide his disappointment when you come to a standstill in front of a machine, Q*bert, and take a coin out of your pocket, obviously intending to still stick to your rule of not leaving until you had no coins left.

“You’re still going to- Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head as you put a quarter in the slot and start playing. “I’ll just get comfortable here then, shall I?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, “just stand there and look pretty. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Okay, I can do that.” He folds his arms and leans against the cabinet next to yours, very much mirroring the stance that he had taken earlier. “But seriously, just one game and then I’m dragging you out of here.”

“Fiiiiine. One game,” you say with a loud groan that didn’t sound anywhere near convincing enough. “But you’d better settle in, pretty boy, because I can make these games last a lifetime if I have to.”

“Did you just call me out over not being good at playing video games? Seriously?” Amusement was dripping off his voice, because he honestly didn’t care that he was no good at any of the games here. But he could have sworn that you had just issued him a challenge and he had every intention of winning that. “Honey, I can last real long when I’m doing other things.”

“Sure.” If you were trying to come across as unimpressed, it wasn’t that successful. You looked more curious than anything else. You shrugged, a bit noncommittally, and threw in a, “They all say that.”

“I actually do though.” Eddie took a step closer and he could see your fingers tightening around the joystick, fully prepared to try your damndest not to let him distract you. One more step and he’s so close now that his lips are a couple of inches away from your ear. He clears his throat and chuckles when you jump ever so slightly. “Baby, I’m genuinely not boasting when I say that I could be down there for hours and I don’t think that I need to elaborate on that now, do I?”

You release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, close your eyes for a fraction of a second, and then the telltale “game over” tune starts playing.

“Fuck.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, did you just lose? I was really looking forward to seeing you play as well, but… a deal’s a deal.” Before you could protest (which you wouldn’t dream of doing), Eddie grabs your hand and makes good on his promise of dragging you out of the arcade. “I just really want to show you what I can do now. Promise you won’t be disappointed…”

And here's the picture that partially inspired this one...

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #mar writes

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bigkingxl0 · 5 months ago

Text

Tomorrow

A built god splitting logs in the backcountry of Vermont, glistening with sweat. Muscles rippled from his swift swing. He drove the axe head down and added the wood to the pile. He was nearly done collecting what he needed to fire up the wood stove through the rest of the year. A dream life built from the blood, sweat and tears of one ambitious man, on acres of land nobody else could say they owned. Far from civilization. Andy was surprised his phone even had reception at this part of his sprawling property. He was even more surprised to see Mom's contact photo staring back at him -- when did she ever call? -- but rested the tool against the chopping block and answered.

"Hey, what's up?"

"We need to talk."

Exactly what you want to hear from your mother. He offered to talk later but she rejected him, insisting they talk right there and then. He gathered up the flannel he'd discarded, phone pressed to his ear, and made his way back to his cranberry colonial.

She spoke sternly but vaguely. At first he didn't understand what happened and why he had to be recruited, at first. Sure, Andy lived through his shut-in gamer phase too, years ago, so he kind of understood it. He had his time with a carpet full of crumbs and 2 liters filled with piss. And other disgusting things. Lazy summers where WOW came first and everything else second. His parents had reacted the same way then. He grew out of it. Maybe it took a couple threats of military school and disownment, but he went to college and got his life together. Now look at him. A successful property manager and agricultural scientist who lived his truth and sold it to the masses. He wanted to laugh. Fly across the country and tell his brother to put up the controller and invest in deodorant? It was comical.

Arlo would grow out of it. He wanted to crack a joke about sending him off to the army, but Mrs. Menconi was not one to call and ask for anything. The subtle desperation got the best of himIf he didn't recover his brother from the dark side, he would lose access to the most powerful network in his life. Her image was on the line. It was also the least he could do was repay his dear mother. It had been a long time since he'd seen Arlo, too, so it was only fair. Half a decade of globetrotting for work, and his busy life had gotten in the way of things more than once before. He hadn't actually spoken to his sibling or anything in all that time. He'd be lying if he said he'd noticed, and that shook his reality. Too many years passed and not enough time spent together. No wonder his brother rebelled. Poor bastard probably hated his life. Now he had nothing in his upcoming schedule and his mother was practically begging him to intervene. He had to go.

Andy caught the soonest red eye with nothing but his laptop and farm clothes, unprepared for what faced him on the West Coast.

He hesitated at the bare condo door. He didn't actually know what to say to the kid. It wasn't like they had much in common. He shook his head and knocked, the charisma of a salesman taking over. If he could do it for work he could do it for family.

After several minutes, the door creaked open, and the stench hit before he could say hello. Andy tried not to screw his face up too much, and forced a smile at his younger sibling. "Hey, lil dude.”

"Oh... hey bro," Arlo groaned, caressing his stretchmarked gut. "Long time, no, URP, see. I hoped you were Domino's."

There was no life to his voice. He started his waddle back into the dark, dank house. Andy watched the sweat roll down his curves and drip from the ends of his greasy hair. Arlo plopped into his groaning gaming chair and pulled his headset on.

"Not even a how are ya?"

"I'm literally in a game, bro!"

He started to remember why they hadn't talked much in the past six years.

Stepping out with a phone call, he questioned what he was even doing there. What could he even do? Clean up after him until he decided to become a man? He dialed his mother but she didn't answer. At the end of the voicemail he left a text that said "Please." dropped in and knew he couldn't leave her hanging. He sighed and hung up the phone.

Andy slipped back into his brother's rotten, rent-free apartment and gently stepped around the landmine field that was the den. Heavy footsteps went into the kitchen, bags crinkled, then Arlo came in with an arm full of family sizes.

"We can hang out now, I guess.”

He dropped onto the disgusting couch with a groan. The greasy pile of take out boxes on the coffee table matched the swollen lard around his middle. He reached for the clicker and put on some annoyingly loud cartoon. The TV fueled his dead eyed stare.

"Arlo," he started, eyeing the blotchy, bloated sphere that was his brother. The words fell away from his lips without a sound.

"Yeah, dude?" His brother said it like the words were foreign, head too full of pretty TV shows too even listen.

"It's great to see you."

"UURRRRRAAP. Yeah..." His voice trailed off, thick with disinterest. His eyes were locked on the screen, only this time he brought chips to his mouth. "Same to you."

With his mind racing, Andy tried to figure out how deep he was and where the hell the shovel was. He rested on the arm of the couch, the most visibly clean surface in sight, and tried to seem as comfortable as possible. Part of him wanted to see the rest of his apartment. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stomach it. He watched along with the dumb cartoon his brother occasionally chuckled at between dabs and blasting videos on YouTube and Tiktok at max volume. Not a word said for an hour until the eldest brother broke the vocal silence.

"So much for hanging out huh?"

Arlo rolled his eyes. "Bro literally... toxic vibes for real."

Andy sucked his teeth. "Nothing you say actually makes sense, you know that?"

"Honestly bruh, we aren't, like, hanging out." Arlo lifted his leg and let out a bassy fart. Andy was afraid to breathe in the toxicity. With a satisfied look he continued. "You only came 'cause, like, I blocked mom."

"I came because you're my bro and I love you. And care about you."

"Uhuh, 'bro'", he said, air quotes and all. "You lie for a living and you're trash at it? You're such a beta."

"First of all my business is very successful-" he was interrupted by another reeking fart and a giggle.

"Yeah, that was a good one, mother fucker!"

Andy could feel himself losing brain cells. He fiddled in his bag for his airpods but they were dead. Typical. He sank angrily into the armrest and then stiffened just as quickly. God only knew what his hand hit in the cracks of the seat. He steeled himself, trying to muster as little judgment as possible, just like he'd been asked.

Not everyone cleans as rigorously. Not every tidies. He eyed his brother, trying to mask his disgust - not that he'd notice. Not everyone showers regularly. Or at all. His face crinkled at the scent wafting off Arlo. Pungent BO, old food, and stuffed farts. He wasn't sure what smelled worse, him or his festering apartment.

He added more to the list and actually felt his prejudices wavering. Not everyone eats healthy. Not everyone watches educational programs. Not everyone makes something of themselves -- and can be content with it. By the end of his list of "not everyone" he didn't have a single thing left to judge.

Andy knew then that the next few months would be very, very long. His brother had fallen asleep sitting there, one hand in an empty dominos box, the other on his dab torch. There was no clock in the house, his Apple Watch had died in the airport, his phone done then, too, and he felt tired in the darkness. He didn't even realize his eyes were fluttering. Tomorrow he would make a game plan, just like he would for his business. Break down exactly what went wrong, where, and what the comeback would be. It might take some time, but nothing was impossible with enough hard work. Satisfied, he dozed off.

---

That didn't go as planned. Arlo slept at bizarre times, which gave him time to look through the rest of the house. He thought it might be a good time to clean, but the trash was so dense that it seemed nearly impossible. Arlo didn't even seem to own any trash bags, and even after buying a box, Andy couldn't throw a tenth of the mess in the overfilled dumpster in the parking lot.

His clothes were covered in mysterious trash juices and food. Dirty and exhausted, he tried to shower, but there was no soap, shampoo, conditioner, not even a washcloth. He damned TSA for their liquid rules. This was already the trip from hell and it only compounded with every minute.

Andy found acceptable clothes in the depths of the grungy apartment. They weren't anything he'd choose to wear--a graphic tee with some game he'd never heard of and a pair of sweats obviously too small for Arlo--but they sufficed. He wasn't going to buy real clothes to ruin in this cesspool. He figured he could just go into goodwill later and get some throwaways to tide him over if necessary.

It didn't work like he planned, not unlike everything else he'd planned so far. He'd taken an uber from the airport to Arlo's, with the idea of borrowing his brother's car for the week or even renting one. He came to find there was no car rental place for miles with a vehicle available, and his brothers beaten 90's Civic was long overdue for services and remained unstartable.

It felt like now, or never. Originally he'd planned to work during this whole debacle but he saw that was nigh impossible. He left a quick memo to his remote workers that he was taking an emergency leave and to continue any major projects and manage themselves for a little bit. He knew they were up to the task.

The next few days went that same, Andy bagging up as much trash as humanly possible until he was too weary to continue, and Arlo piling it up just as fast. It was fruitless, much like the kitchen fridge, and Andy felt as though he might genuinely lose his sanity holed up in the trash den.

They went back and forth with each other a hundred times over the weeks over this. Sometimes as friends and sometimes mortal enemies. Sometimes it seemed like his brother was coming around. He could get him to clean up after himself. Then he was cooking meals instead of ordering them, shaving, showering. Normal people stuff. Andy even got him to cut down on dope smoking and gaming. But he could never get anything truly clean or put together or even decent. It was always kind of cluttered, bad, stinky, or some other awful thing that drove Andy nuts.

"I'm going to take you out."

"Like, kill me?"

"Out to a bar or something! Around people your age."

"I'm good with that, chief," Arlo said, shaking his head.

"It's celebratory, and mandatory," Andy waved his hand. "No get out of jail free card."

"And walk there?" "I connected with some of my people and arrange a private transport to a-"

"Fine. But you're picking up the tab."

"I planned on it, turd," he said, the eldest brother snark returning as if they were kids again.

The way Andy saw it, a chick would steer Arlo on the right course, fast. That had worked for a million guys more than once, him included. What he hadn't expected was that most of the single ladies wanted to talk to him instead. He tried to distance himself from his brother and blend in with the crowd, but the bar was small and Arlo could spot the cowboy talking from a mile away. In the end, two drunk Menconi boys with a single plus one. She tangled herself around the chiseled body of the eldest brother, with half an outfit less than what she started with.

Andy woke up still drunk with a dead phone and no other belongings. He could tell it was afternoon from the sun through the blinds, but this was not Arlo's place. A mangled charger in the kitchen brought his phone to life and he escaped with an Uber, careful not to wake his new friend, who was sprawled out on the floor in front of the door.

Arlo had left the front door unlocked. Disgusting slapping and plapping and moaned nonsense echoing through the house when he walked in. Arlo, naked except for VR headset and headphones, tugging on himself and surrounded by take out boxes. He slammed the door shut and covered his mouth, turning away from that grotesque sight and running into the hall.

He couldn't get the picture out of his mind. Rolls wobbling and the squelchy fart noises and whorish groaning... he rubbed his eyes but it didn't help. All he wanted to do was lay on the couch. As far as he knew that was now all contaminated, not like he wanted to be in the house right now anyway. He slithered back into the elevator and made way to his rental car, kicked back the seat and slept his regrets off.

When he awoke again he felt sober enough to tackle that ordeal. Bounding up the steps and opening the door to a quiet house. He looked from side to side. It had never been quiet in here, between TV looping, gamer shouting and fat dude snoring. He listened and at the edge of his hearing he heard crinkling. He looked for the culprit under his feet or among the garbage and found nothing. Then he heard the heavy footsteps of Arlo and a belch that confirmed it.

"Got something for you broski," he said, coming from the back room. "But I gotta test it first."

"What? And look, about earlier-" Andy started but trailed off when he saw Arlo loading a familiar looking bong. He took a hit as if in example and ripped a fart as he stepped closer.

"This might be more your speed dude. Remember this shit?"

"You're joking-" he was interrupted by another reeking fart and bong rip.

"pffprprPRFRBFFTBT--nyeahehehe, smoke it!"

"Okay, you're not joking," he said, mouth watering with nausea but too shocked to move. "How the fuck did you get this?"

"I was nine, I wasn't dumb. I hid this first and then told mom about your stash." "You told them!?"

"Old news bro, just smoke."

"It's not time to smoke! I need to-"

"It's ALWAYS the time to smoke," his pothead brother blew a lungful of pen smoke in his face. "C'mon, like, relax!"

He hadn't done anything like that since college, and he wasn't sure he wanted to start again. He eyed the glass piece like it might blow up in his face.

"Arlo, you know I'm here to set you straight right? To get you off of this... stuff? Make you an adjusted member of society like the rest of the family?"

"Bruh... don't be a loser."

"You have to understand how worried everyone is-"

"C'mon, bro, like," he exhaled more smoke. "You're not even gonna, like, take a big rip? With your bro?" His tone was both inviting and mocking.

"Arlo, you're kidding, you can't just expect me to smoke weed of all things, at this point in my life-"

"Bruh, if you ain't hanging, you're not welcome. I don't G-A-F about an intervention," He let out a drawn out fart that smelled acrid, and took another hit. "Smoke, or go."

"Fine, yeah, okay... bro," Andy said, mom's voice spinning around his mind.

The faster he gained his brother's trust, the faster he could get on the redeye flight back home. Not to mention, Arlo hadn't exactly been welcoming - was this his way of bonding? Was this him letting down his guard? Andy rubbed his eyes and took the bong. "One, and that's it."

Arlo put a cap over the chamber and intense hot smoke entered Andy's lungs, making him cough and gag. He stopped immediately, hacking and spitting and snotting. He choked out some obscenities.

"Let's goo!! Hit that shit man!"

"What the fuck," he said between gasping coughs, spittle flying. "Was that even weed? Fuck is that!?"

"Moonrock, broski....weed and wax rolled in kief."

His head swam in circles. He must have sat there for an hour, infinitely sinking into the disgusting cushion of the disgusting couch. His mind was everywhere else but paying attention to how disgusting it all really was, and he almost understood how his slovenly brother had gotten to this point.

"Jesus H..."

"One more! One more!" His brother handed him the piece again, hot and ready to go. Somehow he felt that Arlo was influencing him, and not the other way around. He figured if he smoked enough he could just go to sleep and try again tomorrow.

So he smoked, coughed, smoked some more, floating through spacetime and drooling on himself while his brother played videos that soothed him. In his brain he was out on an undiscovered frontier and afraid of what he might face. In reality he was potbrained and glued to the couch while Arlo fed him chips and baby talked him.

"Poor dude. You're probably thirsty too, here bro," and let him drink coke, "sorry, bro, forgot you probably got the munchies, sorry I got you couchlocked," and gave him scraps of food. "Damn bro, you look totally boofed right now."

Andy couldn't figure out what that meant. He could see his brother's lips moving and he could hear this noise that really sounded like Arlo, but nothing made sense to him.

"What the fuck, dude?" Is what he wanted to say, but it came out as a groaning moan that his brother just laughed at.

"Aww don't worry dude, this won't last forever. I love being blasted... it doesn't last long enough! BRRAAAAAP. It'll all be over tomorrow."

Through the distortion he could understand that his brother was comforting and caring for him. It was the most emotion he had really shown towards him the whole time he'd be there. Plus, like Arlo said, his head would be attached to his body again by tomorrow.

Andy couldn't stop smiling. That might have been the weed making his head spin around the room. It felt nice either way.

---

The more Andy warmed up to his brother, the more often days ended like that. In one way or another. They were closer than ever. They no longer fought, but Andy didn't push him as hard either. He felt bad pushing him too much... it always ended up with a fight and more stress, and how could that possibly be helping?

It was also easy to lose track of time. Easier to give in to cravings with junk always available. He forgot about his disciplines slowly but surely, until he was only a more put together facsimile of Arlo. Though that whittled away too, as his slobbish tendencies grew and he picked more things up from his brother.

It was bound to happen.

It was impossible to escape.

Arlo was getting worse, and so was Andy. Daily. Weekly. Monthly. Forever. He'd slipped enough to make a habit of smoking again, but that wasn't the worst vice he indulged in alongside his brother. The mind-numbing channel surfing, the screen-casted tiktok thirst traps, the mountain of artery-clogging fast food they consumed daily... the worst part was the fact that Andy was enjoying it. A lot. He couldn't stop getting high and he couldn't stop stuffing himself. He had never gained weight this fast in his life: every meal stretched his stomach, grew his capacity, and made him greedier for more. He reasoned that as long as he wasn't as big as Arlo, it was okay.

In reality he'd basically polymorphed into his younger brother. His beard grew much faster than Andy's and he hadn't cut it, same with his greasy hair. His midsection was bloated with salt and even when it wasn't it was bigger than it had ever been in his life. His fingernails were dirty with resin. He'd blown up so many sizes he'd graduated into Arlo's old clothes.

"Wanna smoke again, bro?"

They shared the same glassy eyed look at the TV. What was one tolerance shredding dab going to do? He was already in too deep. He took the piece and ripped it like a pro, never taking his eyes off the tiktok thot his brother was obsessed with.

"I've followed her onlyfans, PRRFFTTT, like, since she made it," he said like it was an accomplishment. "She even shouted me out for like, bRRRAP, donating. Talking all sexy and flashing her titties."

"SHE shouted YOU out?"

"Yah, bro, I'm like her highest dono," he giggled at that, smoke oozing from his mouth. "And her highest sperm dono..."

Andy mindlessly rubbed the ice cold can of coke across his sensitive nipple. It was hard to think... and every time he noticed how hard it was to think his mind would drift to how hard he was. His thoughts thickened quicker than he had.

"She... she shouted you out...? For donating money?" He said his words like they were too thick.

"That's her job, dude, to like, get us off."

"Why am I so horny?" He thought, but wondered if he said it aloud.

"Yeah bruh, it's lit," Arlo said, winking.

Andy had never been into the whole scene. Okay, yeah, old playboys and stuff when he was younger, maybe some old school DVDs. When he really became successful he just didn't have time for it. He had real sexual encounters with real women that had real interest in him.

This still felt kind of real. He looked on at the TV, the only thing that made a lot of sense in his clouded head, and felt his shorts tent more.

"Dayummm she thick!" A glint of self recognition; he sounded just like Arlo. Then Ms. Tiktokverse bent over and he was thinking with the other head again.

"Facts bro... Don't worry, I'll leave you two alone. I got her snapchat so I've seen every sfw angle like a million times."

His brother scooted a lotion closer to him and waddled back to his room, farts and moans leaking out of him every other step. Andy could see his grimy tented shorts too, and knew his brother would be busy for an hour or two.

Andy watched the livestream, ignoring the thousands of comments pouring in. Months ago he wouldn't have believed he'd ever sink this low, yet here he was, ogling some girl that didn't even know his name, doing the most sex-adjacent things she could on a PG site.

"Heyyy Arlo, thanks for the donation, sweetheart.This one is for Arlo's brother...Hey, Andy!"

Correction, she did know his name. He eyed the comments that joked about his inceldom, needing his brother to get this girl's attention for him, but quickly went back to ogling. He reached down into his shorts he'd outgrown, but his arm was too fat to fit comfortably. He settled for sliding them down slightly and exposing his growing fatpad.

"Mmm, Andy, I hope you're enjoying every minute of this~"

She winked and smiled, before saying she needed to end the show because there weren't enough donations. With the screen blank, the reality of what he was doing hit him, even with his weed addled brain.

"What the hell am I doing?" He asked aloud, as if God himself might answer. There was no answer though. The only sound he could hear was his pounding heartbeat and the videos his brother blasted at all hours of the night. "Tomorrow... I'll fix this tomorrow."

Tomorrow he could start again, buy a handful of garbage bags, and cleaning supplies, and recruit Arlo into his own rehabilitation. Get his shit together and stop having fun. Since when do businessmen have juvenile fun like this? Never. He needed to get back to Vermont. He would finally be able to get back to work.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. His business!

Fuck, how many weeks had passed in this fever dream? He hadn't looked at his work email in ages. After a few failed password attempts, he opened the minimalist mail app, which overflowed with hundreds of emails from clients and coworkers alike. Probing about his return, wondering if he and his family were okay, curious if he'd quietly quit his prolific position. His fat fingers danced on the keys, brain working overtime to try and make an intelligent reply. Nothing came out except a run-on sentence filled with "bro" and "dude". Shit.

He closed the app without sending a single reply.

Tomorrow, he would try again.

---

Oh no. His heart pounded as he shifted on the couch as fast as he could, which wasn't fast at all.

"FRRRAAAP, nnyah."

He wiggled, wobbled, and rocked side to side, resembling nothing more than a bowl of pudding.

"Shiiit, BRRAAAAAP, URRP, nngh nnnnghhh,"

He couldn't fucking reach. He tried so hard but couldn't fight the weight of his fat long enough to do anything.

He looked at his phone with unfocused eyes and forgot what he was doing, but still trying to satisfy the twitching between his thighs. He let out another nasty burp that made him twitch harder.

He looked over at his brother who was groaning in hedonistic joy. Although he was censoring himself with his excess flab, Andy could still hear the buzzing of the toy underneath. His moobs jiggled in sync with the rocking motion he made and Andy wished that was him instead.

"Alexa, can you, like, BRRAPunghhh, order a vibrator?"

"I have found multiple orders in your previous history-"

"Order it!" He barked, trying to reach once more and finding himself red faced and spent.

Blinking blankly at his phone screen again, he suddenly remembered what he needed. He opened Twitter and scrolled more and more. He felt so brainfried, jaw hanging low and staring at flashing gifs. His eyes were too unfocused to read captions anymore, but he needed more.

"BroooAAAPPPP, we should order Doordash... Like a lottafuckingfoooooodnnnngh!"

It was half request and half orgasm. Andy's neck burned hot with desire and jealousy, then anger as the vibe kept purring.

"Dude, take that thing out, burrp, it's distracting as fuck."

"Dude, I can't fucking BRRAP reach it anymore, nyeheheh."

Andy twitched some more, feeling so close to the edge mentally. He wanted that so bad. Constant pleasure. He was so addicted to chasing dopamine. No more natural happiness like sunlight and exercise. Only artificial substitutes like smoking, gorging, and watching pretty girls do disgusting things on Twitter. What happened to him, and so quickly? He felt a pang of fear in the back of his mind but quieted it down with a big fat cloud.

This was the life he was meant to live.

Maybe Arlo had been right all along.

...

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