In this Meeting, the Board will Discuss getting Knocked the Fuck Up

The future is bright and scary.

You mean, it’s always scary and it’s occasionally bright, but this is the brightest and scariest it’s ever been for you. Like a strobe light that’s manned by a thousand spiders. Or something. Who’s to say.

You’ve got some wicked powers, you’ve got your best friend by your side. And apparently she thinks you’re real sexy. But also kind of resents the fact. Fun little cocktail of a fucked-with friendship you’ve got here. But so far, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Said friend lies beside you, engaged in idle chatter. Like it’s done repeatedly throughout the evening, her hand has wandered to lie just below her bellybutton, almost subconsciously, to where she very soon might be growing a child of your mutual creation. Hell, for all you know, she already is.

“So… we’re really doing this, huh?”

She looks at you and tilts her head in questioning.

“Having a… baby. Putting a thing in… there.” You gesture to the general area you assume her womb would be.

Pearl joins you in staring at her stomach and the mysteries held within.

“You already put several million things in there. I remember. They felt very wet and gooey.”

This girl is going to be the **** of you. She seems to have discovered a knack for just casually saying the most slap-you-the-face-with-confusing-sexual-feelings things. You honestly can’t tell if she’s even aware of it or not. Wouldn’t put it past her either way.

“I know this sounds stupid coming from me, but could you please be serious for a sec.”

Sensing a pivot in conversation back to a heavier standpoint (driven by you, no less), Pearl places her second hand on her stomach and softens her expression.

“Big question, isn’t it. Not exactly light on the ramifications.”

Understatement of the year. Pearl shifts herself onto her side and crooks her arm under her head.

“I’m certainly biased, but… at this point, it’s ultimately up to you, Chase.”

Yes it is. But is it, though?

“You’ve got me primed and ready to do this whole thing, so I’d be disappointed if you didn’t follow through, but I’m hardly gonna **** you. It’d be pretty fucked of me to **** a child onto someone who doesn’t want one.”

She’s put herself, her body, and her future on the line for you. She’s waiting for your input, putting the decision in your hands. Wants you to decide for yourself what’s best. And to that end, you are truly grateful for her friendship. You may piss each other off, but she still wants your life to turn out okay in the end.

But Jesus Christ, why’s she gotta put that choice on you!?

“If you don’t want to do this, Chase, I’ll survive. I’ll work through it. I’m not going to go hunting some other dude’s dick, I don’t want that. I just won’t get pregnant.”

Not that she could, without your permission. Yikes.

Pearl leans closer into your space. “We can put this past us, if you want. But if you’re actually interested, we could also do something pretty fucking cool together.”

It almost sounds like she’s expecting you to decide right here, right now.

Pearl just sits there, with a small modicum of patience, awaiting a response.

Oh, god, she does want you to decide right here, right now.

Fucking hell.

Do you want to be a dad? Did you ever?? Okay, yeah, maybe you entertained the idea once or twice as some far off dream, along with owning a capybara and kissing Zendaya, but in those father fantasies you were always, like, thirty, not fucking eighteen!

To your right, Pearl props herself up and lids her eyes. She adjusts her tank top in a way that flashes some very generous cleavage right towards you.

College! Careers! Having a life!! If you have a kid, your life isn’t even your own anymore! Everything you do needs to work towards the raising of your child! You’re your own person! You want your own life! With non-PG movies and junk food and a lot of naked Pearl!

The not-but-very-nearly-naked Pearl right next to you continues to try and worm her way into your thoughts. She pulls at the bottom of her shirt, tightening the fabric against the swell of her breasts, marking some very visible outlines around her nipples.

She slowly licks her upper lip. It’s the weirdest, cheesiest thing you’ve ever seen her do.

And it’s fucking working.

Do you really need college, anyway? College is overrated. It’s like, 90% studying and attending classes. Boring. There’s no naked, supple, fertile Pearl over in college. Besides, why would you want to work when you’ve got all you could ever need at your fingertips? And you could still have a life, a baby wouldn’t take up every waking hour. You’ve got a support system, your friends and your family and Pearl’s family could all pitch in. You’ve got your powers. And Pearl would be happy to stop at just the one baby, right? Right?

In the low light of her bedroom, you can trail the outline of Pearl’s form, from her bare, supple thighs, up to hips wide enough they could even be called birthing hips. From there, a soft lolling up-and-down dip into a vast valley marking a staunch hourglass. It peaks at her bosom, where two generous globes lay, one supporting the weight of the other, straining against their fabric prison. Pushed gently towards you by an arched back, they plead at you to let them fulfill their purpose.

Atop it all is the incandescent, smirking visage of a woman who is just as enticing as she knows she is. Her pale cheeks are dusted by a pleasant reddening of want. She fiddles with the loose strap of her top as she visibly bites her bottom lip…

This is your best friend. She’s not some random girl on the street you have a passing fantasy about, she’s the girl who gleefully slammed your face into your cake at your eighteenth birthday party before emptying a can of whipped cream into your hair. She’s your buddy. Your bro. Your Anime Debate Night opponent. Your kick-in-the-shin, take-no-shit, gas thief goth hombre.

But now your poor overwhelmed brain is screaming at you to fuck a baby into her. And so is your dick. And so is Pearl herself.

The choice is far easier than it probably should be. The words come tumbling out of your mouth.

“Let’s do it.”

Pearl extends a hand out towards you. After a second, you meet it with your own, and decisively move your joint grip up and down. You know, in this moment, that your fate is sealed. And you know it’s the right one.

Some people might view agreeing to conceive via handshake as unnaturally cold and corporate, but as Pearl holds her fiery gaze and feelings of lust and genuine excitement tighten your chest, you know it’s anything but.

That is, until Pearl drops her hand, jumps off the bed, plops into her chair, and rolly-wheels over to her desk.

“Glad we got that sorted out. Let’s talk logistics.”

Shaking yourself out of yet another very close encounter with your own libido, you realise it’s times like this you remember she’s the daughter of a high-ranking businesswoman.

Pearl grabs her phone off the glossy surface of her computer desk and begins scrolling.

“Now, because I’m a fertile little teenage bitch, getting pregnant really shouldn’t be too hard. But we still should probably concentrate most of our attempts in and around the peak of my cycle, which is the Sunday after tomorrow.”

She rolls back towards the bed and holds her phone out for you to observe, pointing with her thumb to a graph near the bottom of her screen. Marked by a little DNA emoji, it outlines your friend’s day-to-day chances of conception. But it’s the other charts and data lines that distract you.

“Heaviness of flow? Colour of menses? What is this, even?”

Pearl rests her other arm on her knee and flattens her gaze, phone still held aloft. “It’s a period tracker, dumbass.”

Oh. Well, shoot. Screw being a progressive male and all that jazz, your squeamish ass is incapable of handling this topic of discussion.

You grab one of Pearl’s bras out of a pile on the floor next to you and position the cups over your eyes. “I do not see it. I am blind and innocent. What is period. Don’t answer that.”

You can hear the eye-roll in her tone. “Oh my god, dude. Now who’s the immature adult?”

You refuse to concede her valid point. “Still you.”

“You literally have your face in my bra.”

“You literally have your face in… shut up.”

Pearl lets out a single cackle. Your comeback skills have failed you.

“I’m sorry, is the fact that my pussy vomits blood every month too much for you?”

Yes, it very much is. Call it a consequence of being raised in a household without any women.

“Look, maybe I just want to pretend that we live in a world where nobody has to bleed from their genitalia. Can you let me have this?”

There’s a clink as Pearl sets her phone down again. “If you can’t face the facts of life, then I guess our deal is off. No babymaking powwow for us. Was nice knowing you.”

Shoot. Your wishful fantasising has backfired. But you’re not letting her escape that easy.

“Well, you already consented, so you can’t back out unless I let you.”

You hear her voice trail around from the foot of the bed to its side, then right above you. “Exactly. So wake up and face reality, bitch.”

She plucks her bra away from your head, and suddenly your vision is filled not with boobless bra but braless boobs, floating freely right beside your head as Pearl stands on her fists lording herself above you.

Pearl’s stern face looms over yours. “The bleeding isn’t even the worst part. God, you could not handle being a girl, could you. Weak-ass.”

Yeah, probably not.

Feeling unusually bold, you reach out and bat one of Pearl’s breasts. They both swing lightly, like a sexy version of Newton’s cradle. “Why do I need to handle being a girl when I can just… handle a girl?”

Lame, and pushing it, but it works. Pearl visibly flushes, but attempts to supress it through a totally-not-endearing scowl. She grabs your wrist and pushes it away from her chest.

“Down. Bad. Those are for baby, not your grabby perv hands.”

Insult aside, something about hearing Pearl speak about your future child so concretely spreads this unusual feeling of warmth throughout you. It’s arousing, yeah, but not only. It makes you feel excited. Giddy.

Pearl sits on the edge of the bed by your leg. “Look, man, I hate my bodily functions too, but if you do your job,” she waves a hand towards your visible bulge and swallows, “and keep me pregnant enough, with any luck I might never have a period again.”

Maybe… not… that giddy…

Fuck. What was that she said about having an impregnation fetish?

“Uh. Maybe let’s just start with the one and see where that takes us…?”

Pearl’s shoulder slump a little.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. My bad. Just… getting ahead of myself.”

…Was this woman honest-to-god hoping to continuously pop out your kids until you dried up her entire backlog of eggs? You might truly be in too deep.

Eh, that’s the far future. Tonight is for gaming. Tonight is for wasting stupid time with your closest friend and not caring about anything past today.

You reach over to turn the console back on and toss a controller at your comrade-in-conception, who fumbles it.

“One more round before I go home. Winner gets the rest of the MD.”

Pearl’s competitive smirk matches your own. And the game is on once again.

With everything now out in the open, your return to racing is tangibly more low-key than your previous session. And it’s actually pretty nice.

Sitting there, late at night, just sharing space with your good friend, you’re overcome with a soft feeling of serenity. It’s this single moment frozen in time, just the two of you. Unbroken silence, unbroken peace.

Maybe it helped that you didn’t choose Rainbow Road this time.

Pearl is more relaxed (and less seductive, though no less alluring) this time around. The side of her body fits snugly against yours as she rests her head against your shoulder, and throughout the match you enjoy sneaking peeks at the face of the resplendent girl next to you, her mouth up in a lazy smile as she loses herself in the game.

(You also get a pretty nice view of two other things below her face, but that’s less poetic.)

It’s a new feeling, being able to just lie here propped up against your friend. These changes in your dynamic seem to have all kinds of ramifications, some overt, some subtle, and being able to just be casually physical with each other like this is not one would have expected, but you find it hard to complain about all the same. Neither of you have ever been the snuggliest of people, and you doubt that’ll change, but there’s something unfamiliarly comforting about having a warm body pressed against you. Stranger still, it’s someone whom you’ve known and appreciated for years. It’s a feeling you could get used to.

Last time, your frantic mashing of buttons was perpetuated by unaddressed emotional and sexual tension charging the air between you. And those feelings are still there, but they’re softer somehow, wrapping around you both like a warm, shared blanket.

That’s not to say you’re completely at peace with each other. Neither of you would be you if you were. Pearl still snickers when you run over your own banana peel, you retaliate by hitting her with a shell just as she’s about to jump a ramp. You’re still wholly yourselves.

You had set up the match on a softball bet, but Pearl is still taking it as seriously as ever, as competitively as ever, simply because the bet is against you. It’s the crux of your friendship: joshing around, pissing each other off, never letting the other have the final word. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the most bullshit ending to a Mario Kart race you’ve ever seen, Pearl nabs a Bullet Bill just before you’re about to cross the finish line and goes from 6th place to 1st in a matter of seconds. Her unhinged victory cry rings in your ears as you stare at the screen in shock, refusing to accept these unfortunate circumstances.

Pearl pulls herself away from you and triumphantly double-fists the bottle of fizzy drink on top of her desk. She tips it up to her mouth and proceeds to chug the entire remaining third of the two-litre bottle, not for the sake of enjoying it, just for the sake of shoving her win in her face. You goad her on from the sidelines.

She finishes the last drop, throws the bottle down sideways on her desk, crunches the plastic, and lets loose an earth-shattering belch.

“Hot,” you say, and mean it.

Breathing hard to make up for an extended guzzling without oxygen, Pearl tilts her head to the side, as if contemplating you and everything you are. Arising off the bed and pocketing your phone, you tilt your head back, as if to question her own head-tiltery.

Her breathing, still heavy, slows almost to a halt as she looks you up and down almost nervously. A sharp inhale, and then…

Pearl Nowak steps forward and hugs you.

Pearl Nowak does not hug. You don’t think Pearl Nowak has ever initiated a hug in her life, only put up with hugs from others. So your brain is kind of short-circuiting right now, playing a repeating loop of what the fuck is this what does this mean what do I do.

It sure feels like it could be the first hug she’s ever given. Her arms are stiff and too tight, constricting hard against your ribcage, she’s smushed her face into your chest (probably to avoid eye contact), and she’s stepping on your foot.

But it’s comforting, despite the weirdness, and the confusion, and the ow your foot. And so you eventually find yourself returning the hug, resting your head atop hers. You wrap your arms around her, pressing against the warm, smooth skin of her shoulderblades. You can feel her heart pound against your body.

Under your reciprocation, her body relaxes. Her iron-arm grip around your middle turns into a soft but awkward caress against your back, and she takes her foot off yours. Her heart slows. She pulls a smidge closer, pressing herself further into you.

She’s soft.

After a prolonged minute, you have to start willing yourself to stay soft, too. Because goddamn is this not the time.

(Note to self: you can feel the hug-booba even better when the booba-hug-haver is a non-bra-haver. Jesus fuck, shut up brain.)

There’s a light vibration against your ribs as Pearl attempts to speak into your ribcage, but all you hear is some muffled mumbling.

“I have no idea what you just said.”

She moves her head to the side, away from your chest. A beat passes. Then, she repeats herself, quietly.

“I’m glad we’re still friends.”

So are you. “Was that ever in doubt?”

Of course it was, at least from your perspective. All the strange and questionable things you’ve done to her, not least of which doing her, did sorta put you in some kind of emotional quantum superposition of what exactly qualifies as a ‘friend’, let alone a good one, but you’re not about to let her know that.

You can hear her shifting back into ‘well-if-you’re-not-gonna-be-serious-then-I-can’t-be-either-you-fuckwad’ mode. “Friends don’t usually make babies together.”

“Sure they do! If someone’s having trouble conceiving, sometimes they might get a personal donation from a close friend. Just consider me a very thorough sperm donor! You’re welcome.”

“‘Thorough’ my ass, you ‘personally’ deposited your ‘donation’ right through your ‘close friend’s’ cervix in the most primitive, non-platonic way possible. This isn’t a test tube baby situation. You fucking rearranged my insides.”

Oooooh yeah, gimme that angrily clinical description of our passionate bodily harmony, babe. That’s the stuff.

“Pearl, I hear you loud and clear. From here on out, our relationship will be strictly non-physical. Go get me a test tube I can cum into and you can skip all the fun parts. Your insides will stay intact. God, the things I do for you.”

She snorts, still wrapped around you. “Sure. Non-physical. Guess you have to let go of me then.”

You rub a thumb against her bare shoulder. “You first.”

Pearl grumbles and forces her face back into your shirt, and you know you’ve won.

You both stand there for another minute, silently holding each other up, neither wanting to address the fact that you’re somehow hugging because what but neither of you seeming to want it to end it, either. Finally, she slips out of your grip and clears her throat.

She steps away, eyes flitting about, trying to look at anything other than your face. She half-heartedly fiddles with the hem of her top.

“Look, man, I don’t…” she rubs her shoulders, almost as if she’s cold without your touch. She checks the time on her phone then places it face-down on her desk. Finally, a distracted sigh.

“Chase, you’re a grade-A Asshole and I guess I’m glad to have you in my life, but like… at this point I don’t think I even really know what we are.”

Emotion, meet deflection.

You hold out a fist in front of her. “We homies.”

That gets her to look at you, if only to affix you with her driest ‘you’re-an-idiot-gremlin-and-I-hate-you’ expression.

After a couple of moments without her returning the gesture, you lean forward and brofist her boob instead. Breastfist. Heck yeah.

If possible, her face turns even more deadpan, and even more ‘holy-fuck-you’re-an-actual-child’. You don’t care. You’re just reveling in the fact that you can just do this now.

You can feel her nipple against your knuckles. Hot.

She just remains locked in her withering stare. Jeeze, come on. You’re not leaving without a reaction. Clearly, you require more drastic measures.

S-l-o-w-l-y, you unclench your fist and rotate your wrist to cup her-

“Okay, that’s enough. Time for you to go home.” Pearl grabs your arm, pushes it away, and marches you out of the room.

Her voice is slightly husky. Seems like you got to her, at least a little. Teasing this girl will never not be fun.

Pearl stands awkwardly by as you pull your shoes on by her front door. It’s been quite the night. Neither of you seems super aware of how to manage an adequate farewell what with everything that’s happened, simultaneously sick of each other yet not wanting to see the other go.

In other words, a regular post-hangout goodbye, at least when it comes to Pearl. Though this time it’s a bit less goodbye and more see you again, with an extra helping of also next time we’re probably gonna engage in some thorough fucking. So that’s fun. And different. And weird.

And in this brief in-between time bridging two highly provocatively charged meetups, you’ve both deigned to remain oddly… chaste.

Hands in pockets, you meet her eye as she leans against the door frame. She doesn’t say anything, just… stares back at you. Into you. The corners of her eyes crinkle lightly as her mouth dips into a slight frown.

Pearl sighs a sigh burdened by the weight of a thousand uncertainties. “Drive safe, and all that.”

You dip your head and fish your keys from your pocket. “Yeah.”

Pushing open the door, the cool air of a summer midnight hits your skin. It’s bracing, after the consistent heatedness you’ve been flushed with tonight. Like a calling back to reality.

But reality is still standing beside you, taking the form of your strange new paramour, here to see you off. The bridge between your old life and the new, and the symbol of all the foreign and brilliant things yet to come.

For now, though, you just want to sleep.

As you step out onto the path back to your truck, you hear a whisper behind you, almost imperceptible. “Wait.”

You turn around. With Pearl standing atop the porch and you on the lawn, you’re able to meet her gaze at eye level.

Pearl steels herself to say something. And whatever it is, it looks like it’s taking everything in her just to get it out.

A shaky exhale.

“...Could I please use your consent to pleasure myself to the idea of you impregnating me?”

In the background, you can hear the quiet chatters of a radio as some far-off neighbour listens to late-night FM. It barely even registers as you attempt to process what you’ve just been asked.

Under the dull glimmer of the porchlight, you can make out Pearl’s features as she struggles to hold a neutral expression, fighting against the hot red glow in her cheeks.

Desires to both feed your own libido and mess with your friend crash together. You place a hand on her shoulder.

“Pearl, you fully and deeply consent to furiously masturbating to the detailed personal fantasy of me railing you until you can’t walk, are overflowing with my semen, and have been thoroughly bred with my child. Make sure you finish at least five times. How’s that?”

He eyes widen sharply. You can feel a shivering entering her shoulders. “You, uh… do realize I actually have to... do that now… right?”

“Mmmhm”. You sure as shit do.

She side-steps away from under your touch, attempting and failing to remain composed as the compulsion (command?) sinks into her brain and body.

She recedes to a squeaky whisper as her breathing quickens and her voice raises an octave. “O…kay… guess this is happening now…”

Grinning, you head towards your vehicle. As you enter your truck, buckle your seatbelt, and turn on the ignition, you can still make out Pearl as she stands in front of her house, half bent over, clenching and unclenching her hands, looking for all the world like she’s going to die if she doesn’t start touching herself as soon as she possibly can. She’s still staring in your direction, half in rage, half in overwhelming arousal.

You wave her a pleasant goodbye. She flips you the bird.

You roll down your window and call out to her. “Go put that finger to better use!”

Pearl releases a strangled yell and runs back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

You briefly chuckle to yourself. Good ol’ Pearl.

With that, you put your foot to the gas and drive home.

Contact: some kind of goth chick idk
[1:22 AM] Pearl: I FUCIG HATE YOU
[1:23 AM] Pearl: YOU ARE THE WORRST FRIEND
[1:30 AM] Pearl: THE NEIGHBOURS ARE GOING TO THINK A CAT IS DYING IN MYROOM OR SOMETHING
[1:37 AM] Pearl: plase come fuck me
[1:37 AM] previous message deleted
[1:43 AM] Chase: Well sure sounds like some kind of pussy is getting destroyed over there
[1:45 AM] Pearl: fuck this fuck you why am i doing this why doi want this want you fuck off fuck off
[1:47 AM] Chase: Hey are you at the part in your fantasy where you’re literally begging for me to paint your insides white
[1:48 AM] Chase: Or maybe the part where I’m fucking you with my hands on your pregnant belly
[1:53 AM] Pearl: i,mg ;oing to strtanglee yyouuuuuuuu;;
[1:54 AM] Chase: Are you texting and touching yourself at the same time? Seems pretty inefficient
[1:57 AM] Pearl: You need to fucking know what you’re fucking putting me through
[1:58 AM] Pearl: I swear to god if my phone shortcircuits from pussy juice you’re fucking buying me a new one
[1:59 AM] Chase: Set it to vibrate
[2:00 AM] Pearl: FUCK YOU GO TO BED