Get up, take a shower and get new sheets. Yes, in that order.

Luckily, even though Joy can't feel the unpleasant stickyness on our ass, I can convince her to get up and take a shower. Although, of course, the sodden state of our pussy might play a role, too. After cleaning ourselves - no massage followed by masturbation this time, though - and then changing the sheets, we run into the issue of clothing. Joy is, compared to yesterday, enormous, pretty much doubling the circumference of my hips. Us wearing Jeans? No chance. For now, overstretched boxers and an old shirt for me and one for Joy have to do.

And then, as I think about what to wear with Joy offering helpful advice - or rather teasing comments - I realize what I'm doing: Solving one little problem after the other so I don't have to face the biggest, most unsolvable one. How are we supposed to go out like this? As I sit down, I realize I can't even put my head into my hands and groan, not without hitting the back of Joy's head. But of course she notices me slumping down and worries.

"Hey, something wrong, Matt?"

"Uh, yeah?" I don't want to sound so flippant, but the whole situation is too much for me. Again. "We... are basically stuck here. We can't go out."

"Why not? Just tell everyone we're Siamese twins or something."

"Right, and everyone of my friends is going to be like 'Oh hey, weird I never noticed you and your sister were joined at the hip. Or that you had a sister.'" Besides, there's something else that irks me about that cover story. "And... you know, if we tell them we're brother and sister, we... couldn't be a couple."

"Aww, so you do love me!" Joy twists her body and pulls me into a quick kiss before grinning that mischievous smile that makes my heart beat faster. "I knew, of course. I mean, lovable old me?"

"Mhm, right." Self-esteem issues are just nowhere to be found in the Book of Joy. "Till **** do us part, and looking at us, probably not even then. Now, how about we brainstorm a way we can go out?"

And so we do. Joy wants to be stuck inside even less than I do, so we begin wracking our heads on what to do. And as we do, I keep scratching my chest absentmindedly; it feels itchy and a little sore. Maybe because I had Joy's hair brush against my pecs all night? Anyways, we keep bouncing ideas at each other, throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks. And in the end, it's Joy who comes up with something workable.

"We need a baby carrier."

"You're pregnant?!" What? My head feels like mush after almost two hours of dumb ideas. Sorry for jumping to dumb conclusions.

"No, dummy. How would I even... No, we put me into the baby carrier and tell everyone I was born without legs." For emphasis, she slaps mine. "That way, my loving boyfriend can carry me around. Lovingly. And without arousing suspicion."

"That's..." 'fucking dumb' I want to say at first. But... it really isn't. It's the first working idea we had. "Huh."

"See? One day old and already this smart!" The proud smile on Joy's face is infectious. Although that might also be because we probably share one endocrine system. "Now, where do we get one?"

"Not so fast. By now you're kinda too big for a baby carrier. No, we..."

"Are you calling me fat?!" Mock-outrage. Would be more believable if Joy wasn't visible trying not to giggle.

"These are pretty hefty!" I grab Joy's marvelous breasts, making her squeal and giggle as I squeeze and grope, her back pressing against me as she squirms until I stop. "But seriously, you're pretty much regular sized now. A baby carrier won't cut it. We need... straps..."

"Kinky!" Breathing a little heavy, Joy leans her head against my shoulder.

"Not that kind! No, I think I have..."

And I do. Good old hoarder instincts I got from my grandma - I went through three different backpacks since I got to college and couldn't bring myself to throw them away. Which means we now have more than enough material to cobble together something that at least looks like it could carry Joy. And it actually doesn't look like fetish gear. Thank god.

"Decidedly less sexy than I hoped," Joy says, striking a pose in the mirror, pouting a little.

"It wasn't supposed to be," I reply, adjusting one of the straps running from under Joy's arms over my shoulder. "It was supposed to allow us to go out."

"Hmm... still, can't we add something... cute? Lace, or at least... I don't know..."

"Sorry, but I'm not studying fashion design. That's the best I can do," I reply and immediately realize how flippant it sounds so I continue: "But we can go shopping, get a few supplies!"

"Ooh, can we? I want to see the city, and go to a café, and..."

Joy keeps on gushing, and I smile. She's always so full of energy... So, after putting on two of my better shirts together with my gym shorts (hey, they're one of the few pants that fit uns now, lay off me!) and then the strap contraption - constraption? -, we head out.