It's My Party (You'll Cry if I Want You Too) Ch 1

The following story contains instances of diapers, age play, shrinking, and sexual situations.  If this degree of porridge is anything but just right for you, please move to other bowls, and let those who do enjoy such bowls, enjoy them.  Otherwise bears will do horrible things to you.  Things involving long hugs, stories about their cubs accomplishments at school, and slideshows of their last vacation in Maine.  You’ve been warned.  

Chapter 1

“Are you sure this is safe?” Cheryl asked.  She eyed the vial of purplish liquid Carol held out to her.  “It doesn’t look safe.”  

The tall blond lifted the vial up, and the light over Cheryl’s kitchen table refracted through the liquid, sending beams of amethyst light dancing across Carol’s prominent chest.  Cheryl watched the light break across Carol’s snowy peaks with interest, her breath catching in her throat.  Silence eventually prompted her to look up, shamelessly meeting Carol’s amused blue eyes with a shrug.  It wasn’t the first time she’d admired Carol’s statuesque figure.  And it wouldn’t be the last.  

Carol smiled.  As much as she enjoyed being admired, she enjoyed admiring just as much, and Cheryl had plenty to admire.  She nearly matched Carol in height and bust—no small feat—with rich, bronze skin, dark hair, and brown eyes lending extra exotic flavor to her features, a delightful contrast to Carol’s milky skin and straight, blond locks.  “Now that you mention it,” Carol started when she had Cheryl’s attention, “a few of the lab rats we tested it on melted into a gelatinous goo soon after imbibing it.”  

Cheryl’s mouth dropped.  

“That’s a joke.  No animals were remotely harmed.”  She huffed and held out the vial again.  “I’m a scientist, Cher, not a butcher.”   Seeing Cheryl wasn’t convinced—which made some sense as Carol wasn’t so much a scientist as a research assistant, not that Carol was ever one to sweat the details—she shrugged and turned the vial between her fingers.  “It’s completely safe.  And totally organic.  If you’re into that kind of thing.”  

“Oh, yeah,” Cheryl deadpanned, “granola, hemp necklaces, and unshaved pits.  That’s so me.”  

Carol shook the vial teasingly at her friend.  “Well?  In or out, hon?  In or out?”  

Biting her lip, Cheryl eyed the three wine glasses that sat on the table awaiting the third missketeer, late as usual, to show up and make this a party.  “So…safe…right?  No side effects?”  

“Outside of the biggest—or littlest—cutegasm of your life?  Nope.  None at all.”  

One last look into Carol’s big, beaming blues sold Cheryl.  She took the vial, popped the stopper, and tipped it into one of the glasses.  

“Alright!” Carol cheered.  “You just put the surprise in the party.  Now let’s hope the guest of honor shows up before the drinks evaporate.”



ErGo checked herself in the rearview mirror.  She’d rushed straight to Cheryl’s after having to work over again, and she felt decidedly unfab.  Her short, dark hair hung stubbornly in her eyes, and her red, ruffled front blouse and black slacks were wrinkled beyond all good taste.  She reached up and poked the hole in the side of her nose, wishing she’d remembered to bring her bling, but she’d left all her rings, nose and ear, on her dresser, her form of social protest against her stuffy prude of a boss who’d informed her that she looked like one of those “goth freaks” with all those piercings, and if she wanted to stay un-unemployed, she’d do well to limit herself to lobe piercings, and lobe piercings only.  At the thought of her boss, and the fugliness of the reflection disgracing her mirror, ErGo wrinkled up her nose and made a face before snatching the wrapped package from the passenger’s seat and hurrying up the stairs to Cheryl’s apartment.  

Hearing Cheryl and Carol already inside, ErGo didn’t bother fishing out her keys to Cheryl’s place.  She just turned the knob and let herself in.  Carol spotted her first and waved.  “Look, Cher, Murphy Brown’s come to visit.”  

“We are not friends,” ErGo retorted with a repeat of the ‘ick’ face she’d made in the car.  

“Obviously not,” Cheryl said, hand dangerously poised on her cocked hip, “because no friend of mine would be so excessively late to my party.”

ErGo gave Cheryl her brightest, most apologetic smile and reached up on her tiptoes to give Cheryl a quick kiss.  As she backed away, she was delightfully surprised when Cheryl cupped her face and brought her back for a longer, deeper bit of hello.  

Once they broke off their kiss, ErGo held up the present and gave it a shake.  “If it helps, I brought presents.”  

Cheryl affected a thoughtful look, studying the package as she rubbed her chin.  “I don’t know.  You say presents, but I only see present.”  

“There could be multiple things in the box,” ErGo replied, pulling the gift back to her chest.  

“Tissue paper doesn’t count,” teased Carol.  

ErGo dropped her jaw in fake shock.  “Since when?”  

“Since I’m greedy,” Cheryl said, “and demand something more exotic than wiping paper.”  

ErGo blinked.  “Uh.  We’re not talking wiping tissue paper.”  

“I know what kind of tissue paper we’re not talking about,” Cheryl said, lifting her nose to look imperious.  And having established her superiority, she plucked a wine glass up from the table—mindful to stick out her pinky because that’s what superior people did—and held it out to ErGo.  “Trade you.”  

“Your alcohol for my tissue paper—”

“Wiping paper,” Carol interrupted with a giggle.  

“Your alcohol,” ErGo continued with a raised eyebrow, “for my multipurpose, biodegradable, hundred percent recycled, sustainable clean energy producing tissue paper…that can also be used for wiping or makeshift mummification?”  She glanced at her gift in deliberation, then nodded.  “Done.  Now give me my hooch.”

Cheryl forked over the glass and tore into the wrapping paper, while ErGo started on her wine, moving to lean her head against Carol’s shoulder.  “Hello, not-friend.”

Carol hooked an arm around ErGo’s pencil of a waist and gave her little friend an affectionate squeeze.  “Hi, Twiggy.”    

“You already given her yours?” the smaller woman asked, ignoring the crime of someone else using her word.  And before Carol could answer, ErGo poked her in the side.  “Let me guess.  You got her a boob mug.”  

Carol shook her head.  “No, no, no.  You only give those to people who don’t already have boobs.”  

ErGo’s mouth dropped open and she gave Carol’s arm a playful smack.  “Mean!  Cheryl!  Tell your friend to stop being mean to me.”  

“Not now,” Cheryl said, struggling against an unreasonable amount of tape to get the box open.  It was almost as if some devious little scamp had used half roll of tape to keep any eager recipients from getting to their toy surprise.  “Opening gifts.”

Without her lover to take up her side, ErGo turned to Carol.  “Carol,” she pled, “tell Carol to stop being mean to me.”  

“Carol,” the large blond responded, shaking a finger of warning at her own face, “stop being mean to ErGo.”  

“Thanks, Care.  You’re a true friend.  Nothing like that meanie butt Carol.”  

“That’s what I’m here for.  Besides, you don’t even need boobs, ErGy.”  

“No?” ErGo asked.  

Carol arched her back, adding more va-va to her voom before she leaned down to give ErGo a good, close look at the girls.  “No.  You’ve got mine.”  

Cheryl paused fussing with her package long enough to protest.  “Hey!  Stop that!  My boobs have dibs on ErGo.  Yours can have their sloppy seconds.”  

ErGo looked back and forth between her better endowed besties.  “Why do I get the feeling this is the first time a pair of boobs have ever argued over a person?”  

“Afraid not,” Carol said with a resigned shake of her head.  “You’re not even the third person my boobs have argued over today.”  

“And here I was about to feel special.”  

“If it makes you feel better,” Cheryl said, renewing her assault on Fort Box, “you’re the only person my boobs agree about.”  

“Now I just feel weird.”  

“Wait!” Carol objected.  “You’re telling me your boobs don’t agree about me?”  

Cheryl didn’t look away from her box.  “Nope.  Glenda isn’t a fan.  Sorry.”  

ErGo and Carol blinked at each other, then asked as one, “Glenda?”  

“Yeah.  Glenda and Elphaba.  The Wicked Witches of the Chest.”

This time after blinking at each other, ErGo and Carol shared a pained groan.  

“Shut up,” Cheryl huffed as she turned the box to the other side to see if the terrain was any less sticky, “I’m funny.”  

“Okay,” Carol drawled, “ignoring witch tits for now.”  

ErGo wrapped her arm around Carol’s elbow.  “So.  Now that it’s just you and me.  What did you get Cher-bear?  I need to know how much better my gift is than yours.  Otherwise I might under gloat.”  

“Oh, trust me,” Carol said with a Cheshire grin, “mine’s better.”

Finally, Cheryl got the last of the tape torn and squealed as she opened the box, wasting no time in pulling out the chocolate brown pheasant top with embroidered flowers running down the neckline over the chest and the brown, turquoise, and cream head scarf.  

Seeing Cheryl’s glee, ErGo lifted her glass to Carol and polished off the last of her wine.  “Sorry.  I’d love to keep debating who got the better gift—me—but I think I hear my indie queen calling my name in ecstasy.”  She handed Carol the wine glass.  “It’s a sound I hear often.  But I never get tired of it.”  

“Oh, you are just full of yourself today,” Carol laughed.  

“Maybe,” ErGo teased, running a hand up Carol’s soft arms and brushing her hair back over her shoulder, “if you’re very, very lucky, you can be full of me too one day.”  

Carol nearly dropped the glass from laughing.

“Hey!” Cheryl called, holding the top up to herself.  “Would you two stop making out and pay attention to how fabulous I look.”  

ErGo and Carol traded devious grins.  But Carol acted first.  She pulled ErGo into her, the top of ErGo’s head barely reaching her chest, and leaned over the smaller woman’s shoulder, pressing her lips to ErGo’s from the side.  ErGo responded with gusto, reaching up to draw the big blond in closer.  

Narrowing her eyes at the devious duo, Cheryl decided she needed better friends.  But since there weren’t any available at the time, she cleared her throat.  Loudly.  

Carol and ErGo pulled back from each other, both giving Cheryl smug grins.  

“Did you say something?” ErGo asked.

“We’re sorry,” Carol said, giving Cheryl a sympathetic pout.  “We just couldn’t hear you over the sound of how sexy we are.”  

Cheryl’s head tilted slowly to the side, her eyes narrowing to slits.  

“Have I told you how amazing you look?” Carol beamed, stepping around ErGo to grab a handful of the pheasant top.  “Honestly, girly girl, you could make a trash bag look sexy.  But you and that Boho look?”  She ran a finger down the soft fabric.  “You are going to drop some jaws.”  

Cheryl nodded sagely.  “That’ll do pig…for now.”  She turned her gaze to her little lover.  “But someone still owes me praise and—ErGo?”  

ErGo was looking straight at Cheryl.  Or maybe straight through her.  Her stomach had clenched into a knot and the room seemed to have been miraculously moved out to sea.  Choppy waves broke and rolled beneath her feet, and she swayed with the undulating rhythm.  Her eyes fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird.  And apparently disconcerted by her odd behavior, the walls drew away from her to a safer distance.  Then decided they needed to move back farther.  

“Cher?” she whined, clutching her stomach.