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Story Notes:

You're probably wondering why this project in particular took so goddamned long, especially since it's supposed to be the collection of my own fantasies, realized.

Problem: my fantasies are all over the goddamned board.

So, rather than pulling my hair out finding plot reasons to justify everything I'm into coming to fruition, I just made a text adventure. I'll end each chapter with a question with generally limited outcomes. First person to answer said question chooses where this story goes.

No plans, no prototype, no backup.

To steal a catchphrase, this is probably a horrible idea, but it's a fun one so I'm doing it anyway!

Author's Chapter Notes:

Relatively short first chapter, because I'm starting a text adventure. Still, I'm introducing each character as they are.

The restaurant depicted in the below chapter has had its name changed, to prevent advertising. The name of my favorite soda has not. I'm fickle. 

And yes, the below protagonist is ne, with one major change: Her life didn't immediately start sucking when she came out. So . . .

I carefully walk through the half-open door of the classroom that Olivia managed to secure the keys to, and let out a grunt of exertion. "No, no," I grumble sarcastically, "don't get up. I'll just eat all this lovely food from Cosmic Taco myself, because since no one's helping it's obviously all mine."

"Shut the fuck up, Mia, and don't spill my iced tea," Nicole laughs, "and maybe- just maybe- I'll undo my shirt a couple of buttons." 

I sigh: maybe coming out when Nicole had been in the room had been a shitty idea. Now the mildly athletic electric blue-haired skater chick knew that whenever she wanted something, all she had to do was show a little skin and she'd have a perverted lesbian lapdog at her beck and call. Still, the idea turns me on a fair bit, and I shimmy past the whiteboard on the wall.

"So where the fuck is everybody else?" I ask, setting the assorted foodstuffs down on a few random desks pushed together as I try to change the subject. 

"Fuck if I know where Annabelle is, but Elizabeth and Lana went to the bathroom," she says, pawing through the bags to try to find her order, "and Olivia had to get something out of her car. You know, I just realized that Cosmic Taco serves damned near everything but tacos," she giggles offhandedly as she pulls a white box labeled "chili dog" and a mini-bag of fries from one of the nondescript brown paper bags. "Case in point."

I look through the six drink cups, checking for Nicole's iced tea: "This one has no ice, that's Olivia; ginger ale for Annabelle; this one's white, so it's definitely Elizabeth's horchata; that's MY Dr. Pepper; which leaves us with two. Your iced tea, and Lana's raspberry whatever."

"Mine has a lemon! A lemon, Mia- you dumb fuck!" Nicole suddenly yells.

"Sorry to say it, but these both have lemons, so unless you're willing to bite the bullet, I can't-" I begin to rant.

"No, dumbass, you erased some of Olivia's numbers!" She points at the whiteboard, where the bottom halves of four of the numbers in a circle are indeed missing, wiped clear by my ass as I had entered the room.

I quickly get up and fix several of them: "Alright, that's a seven, and a three, and this third one has to be a zero . . . and this other one is a five. There. Fixed," I puff up my chest proudly. 

"What's fixed?" Annabelle enters the room. Out of all the others, the blonde is closest to me in height, at 5'9". Still, at 6'4", I can and do still see over her head: at least, I do when I'm not admiring the figure of a girl who could easily stand in for Power Girl, bust size and all. However, admittedly she isn't . . . well . . . very bright. Neither am I when she's in the room, but hey.

"Mia accidentally erased some of the numbers Olivia had up with her ass," Nicole explains. "Don't know how, 'cause she doesn't have one, but at least it's fixed now."

Annabelle, however, stopped giving a shit even as she was asking the question, as there was now a "hashburger" (a specialty of Cosmic Taco, usually served a little after breakfast ends: one of their typically greasy-yet-delicious burgers made that much better with freshly-made hash browns between the patty and the bun) in front of her, so naturally she was digging in.

"I do too have an ass," I try to retort, but I'm immediately distracted by Nicole slowly, sensually eating each of her fries one by one. "That's just not fucking fair, Nicole," I whimper. 

"All's fair in making you my bitch," Nicole chuckles, having put the whole issue out of mind already.

We're nearly done eating by the time Elizabeth and Lana get back: They're the bassist and drummer for an on-campus band, respectively. Elizabeth is kinda stringy and dirty-looking, her black hair a wild crow's nest that her dull gray eyes kinda lazily peer from. Lana, by contrast, is very neat and tidy, her red hair maintained short and even then kept in a tiny ponytail.

"You should've told us you got back, Mia," Lana says, her Irish accent a genuine stand-out in a part of town that was generally either whitewashed or Latino. "We would have hurried back."

"Doesn't really matter all that much," Elizabeth shrugs, "we were in the bathroom. We couldn't have gone faster if we tried," she says as she's already sat down and begun stealing some of Lana's fries.

"You bitch," she growls as she takes her food and sits separately from the group.

Luckily, before an argument can start up, Olivia bursts in and starts adjusting a machine that is partially blocking the door, adding a new part into place. Olivia is, in a word, a geek: the short glasses-wearing brunette is just miles and miles ahead of us in terms of brains, and is always discussing something she's made, or a series she watched that is inspiring her to make something. "Ha!" She trumpets loudly. "All finished. Now to enter some numbers . . ." She checks the whiteboard and I sweat bullets for a second before she punches the digits in one by one. "Could've sworn there was a decimal point," she mutters, before turning to us.

"So what the fuck is this?" Nicole asks bluntly. And, as Olivia excitedly opens her mouth, she adds, "the abridged version, please."

"R-right," Olivia laughs. "In layman's terms, this is a laser beam that changes an object's size. And, here, I calculated the ideal test ratio, how much I could do without hurting anyone. Now, I'm going to need a test subject . . ."

Chapter End Notes:

Who will Olivia test it on, besides herself?

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