Baby Talk

Molasses cookies. Oreos, most types. Instant taste sensation: spread a little peanut butter on a standard Oreo.

Just got up for the win

Rusty Pins

Chapter 26: The Tipping Point Amy's lips were soft against his, tasting of strawberry milkshake and salt from the popcorn. Matthew pulled her closer, his heart thundering against his ribs as her hands tangled in his hair. The world narrowed to just this. Matthew felt the warmth of her body against his, the pressure of her lips meeting his, the faint scent of her shampoo. Then his phone buzzed, once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Matthew's eyes snapped open, the dream of Amy dissolving into his illuminated bedroom. “…waa….” It was all he could muster as he attempted to gather his bearings. His phone buzzed again on the nightstand, insistent again and impossible to ignore. He fumbled for it, squinting at the screen as his dream fogged mind struggled to catch up with reality. Five text messages, all from Amy.   8:42 AM: Still on for gaming today?   9:15 AM: Heading over in about 20 min like we planned, cool?   9:30 AM: On my way! I hope you are getting these!   9:31 AM: Brought snacks too!   9:48 AM: Outside your house. Are you home?   It was 10:00 AM. Matthew bolted upright, heart leaping into his throat. "Crap, crap, crap," he muttered, leaping out of bed and nearly tripping over a controller cord snaking across the floor. He glanced wildly around his room, seeing it suddenly through Amy's eyes - dirty clothes scattered across every surface, bed sheets twisted into a nest, empty soda cans on his desk. Matthew grabbed an armful of clothes and shoved them under his bed, kicking a pair of gym socks deeper under the dust ruffle. He yanked the sheets into some semblance of order, fluffed the pillow that still held the indentation of his head, and swept the soda can city into his waste bin with one arm movement. “MATTHEW!” His mom’s voice was calling from downstairs, and it did not seem pleased. "Mom, I'm coming!" he shouted back, hoping he hadn’t upset Amy. Matthew paused, catching sight of himself in the mirror above his dresser. His hair stood wild, his t-shirt was wrinkled from sleep, and he was still wearing the basketball shorts he'd fallen asleep in. But there wasn't time to change. He ran his fingers through his hair in a hopeless attempt to tame it, grabbed a hoodie from the back of his desk chair, and hurried toward the stairs. As he descended, a strange doubling of reality washed over him. Part of him, for just a moment, remembered Sarah as his wife. For just that brief second, he remembered her laugh in the mornings as they shared coffee, remembered the curve of her hip beneath his palm as they fell asleep together. But those memories were so thin they left his mind in an instant, replaced by Sarah his mother. His mother who made him lunches, reminding him to clean his room, driving him to meet friends. And who was now shouting at him to come downstairs. When he reached the kitchen, the scene that greeted him was so unexpectedly domestic that he froze in the doorway. Amy sat at the breakfast bar, her hair gathered in a messy bun, laughing at something Sarah had said. Sarah stood at the stove, spatula in hand, the sizzle of bacon filling the air. She had her hair in a ponytail, wore dark leggings and a light sweatshirt that made it look like she was about to go to the gym. Matthew couldn’t help but think that Sarah and Amy looked completely at ease with each other, like this was the hundredth morning they'd shared rather than the first. "—and then he refused to wear anything but those dinosaur pajamas for two straight weeks," Sarah was saying, flipping a pancake with expert precision. "I had to sneak them into the wash while he was at daycare, or in the bath. He always got them so messy...and don't get me started on the..." Amy's laughter bubbled up, bright and genuine. "That's hilarious! I can totally picture it." "You don’t need to! I have photos somewhere," Sarah promised, glancing up to see Matthew standing in the doorway. "Well, good morning, sleepyhead! Look who's here. Your g - Amy has been here for over 15 minutes already." An obvious look of disappointment was on Sarah’s face. Amy turned, face slightly reddened by what went, thankfully, unsaid. But her face lit up at the sight of Matthew. "Hey! I was beginning to think you forgot about our plans. You didn’t answer any of my messages!" Matthew's face burned hot enough to fry the bacon Sarah was cooking. "I, uh, I was….was just getting ready," he managed, acutely aware of his rumpled appearance. "Amy tells me she hasn't had breakfast yet," Sarah said, sliding a plate of pancakes across the counter. "So I'm making enough for everyone. Hungry?" Amy beamed at Sarah. "These look amazing, Ms. Baker. Thank you so much." "Call me Sarah, honey. Okay? Ms. Baker makes me sound like I should be wearing orthopedic shoes. And I’m not that old yet." Sarah and Amy laughed together again, the sound of it twisting something in Matthew's chest. His crush and his mom bonding over pancakes and embarrassing stories about him. ‘This is good, I think?’ Matthew slid onto the stool beside Amy, hyperaware of her proximity. Her knee bumped his as she reached for the syrup, and just like that, Matthew forgot anything else existed. "I already knew your mom was cool from work, but you didn’t tell me how chill she was," Amy whispered, leaning close enough that her hair tickled his shoulder. "And she makes the best pancakes ever." "She's... yeah," Matthew replied, unable to articulate the complex tangle of emotions around Sarah's role in his life. “Mom’s the best.” "I'm guessing you obviously forgot we made plans," Amy continued, cutting into her pancakes. Sarah slid a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of Matthew. "Hardly Amy," Sarah began. Matthew was thankful for the help for the moment, but then she continued. “Matty was so excited about your date he was talking about you all last night at dinner.” ‘Thanks Mom,’ Matthew thought, as he shot a glare at Sarah. "I didn't forget," Matthew lied, pouring syrup over his breakfast. "And I wasn’t talking about you all night. I just... overslept." "Uh-huh," Amy said, clearly not convinced but too busy enjoying her pancakes to press the issue. They ate together, Sarah asking Amy questions about the upcoming school year and her interests in a way that was so perfectly mom-ish. Any memory that he was married to this woman in another reality was so far fetched, it was not even worth consideration. Sarah glanced at her watch and made a small sound of surprise. "I need to run out. I am meeting your Auntie Becca to help her with some errands," She fixed Matthew with a pointed look. "You two behave yourselves while I'm gone, okay? Matty? Okay?" The knowing smile that accompanied the words made Matthew choke on his orange juice. Amy patted his back, suppressing a laugh of her own. "We're just playing video games, Mom," Matthew protested once he could breathe again. “Just…..whatever.” "Mm-hmm." Sarah gathered her purse and car keys. "Door open, please. And Amy, you're welcome to stay for dinner if you'd like. I'm making lasagna later." "That sounds awesome, thank you," Amy replied with such genuine warmth that Matthew could only stare, wondering how this had become his life. Sarah walked behind Matthew and placed a hand on his head. With a little force, she bent his neck back and dropped a kiss on top of Matthew's forehead and headed for the door. "Call if you need anything. I'll be back in a couple hours." When the front door closed behind her, Amy turned to Matthew with bright eyes and a smile that made his heart skip. "So... ready destroy Guild Realm?" _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Matthew led the way upstairs, acutely aware of Amy following him to his bedroom. The steps had never seemed so narrow. It felt as if every stair was shared with her. It made his heart race. Matthew wasn’t sure why this felt different. He'd had friends over to play games countless times before. Or at least the memories planted by the center's magic suggested he had. But Amy wasn't just a friend anymore. ‘She’s something else.’ His frantic morning cleanup had made only minimal improvements. Posters of bands he'd supposedly followed covered one wall. His gaming setup dominated the corner of the room: a decent-sized monitor flanked by speakers, controllers neatly arranged despite the general chaos surrounding them. The bed, hastily made, still had a dent where he'd been sleeping not long ago. Amy didn't seem to notice the mess. She wandered in, instantly drawn to his collection of game cartridges stacked beside the console. "You have the limited edition Super Bario? How did you get this? It's been sold out everywhere!" Matthew racked his brain for an answer. "Um, birthday present from my mom," he improvised, hoping Sarah had indeed given it to him in this strange parallel life. "Your mom is seriously the coolest," Amy said, carefully removing her computer from its case. "My parents still think video games rot your brain." Matthew sat on the edge of his bed, watching as Amy pulled her computer out and began to set up the game. Once that was done, she shifted over to his computer, punching his password in from memory, and setting up his system as well. Amy then moved, opening a drawer. She knew where he kept the extra controller, which input to use on his monitor, how to navigate his console's menu, and in just ten minutes, had them both set up to play. ‘Had they played here before in this reality? Or had Amy's experience with gaming just made her that comfortable with any setup?’ Matthew moved toward his computer chair. She settled beside him at his desk, pulling a second chair up. their shoulders nearly touching as the game loaded. Matthew was suddenly, acutely aware of the faint vanilla scent of her shampoo. It was the same scent that had lingered in his dreams that morning. "Prepare to destroy, Baker," Amy said, bumping his shoulder with her own as the character selection screen appeared. "If we can get real good, well be set for the game’s full release." Matthew selected his character - a knight with impossibly large armor and an even more improbable sword. Matthew couldn’t help but wonder if his selection would impress Amy, if she would be drawn to his big, strong character. "For sure! Let’s get going. I am so excited." "Absolutely!" Amy added, selecting a mage character with flowing robes, colorful hair, and a glowing staff. The game began, and Matthew found himself slipping into an easy rhythm of play and banter. Amy was good - better than good, really - her fingers dancing across the controller she set up like a ballet. She trash talked their enemies continuously, a running commentary of playful insults and triumphant crowing when she landed a particularly difficult combo. They played through area after area, one after zone, occasionally pausing for snack breaks. Amy had brought chips and cookies, spreading them on the bed between them. Matthew had gathered a number of snacks he had made his mom stop for. At one point, their fingers brushed as they reached for the same cookie, and Matthew felt that now-familiar jolt of awareness race up his arm like a shock of electricity. Hours passed in what felt like minutes. Outside, the morning sun gave way to afternoon light. They shifted positions, from sitting at his desk to sitting at the edge of the bed for Matthew, Amy leaning back comfortably against his headboard, controllers in their laps. Some distant part of him, a part that grew more distant with each passing second, knew he should be concerned about his transformation, about the center's magic, about his real life. But those concerns were lost in a world beyond his own. The immediate reality, Amy's company, the victory music as they completed another mission, the salty-sweet taste of chips and cookies, was too overwhelming, too compelling to ignore. ‘Too much to not be real,’ Matthew decided. "I need a bathroom break," Matthew said eventually, his bladder pressing strongly against his stomach. Matthew hadn’t realized how desperate he was, setting his controller aside after they'd defeated a particularly challenging boss. "Don't advance gain any experience without me." "No promises," Amy replied, already navigating to the next area to search for easy enemies. Matthew stepped into the hallway bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. His reflection in the mirror showed a teenage boy with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, hair still mussed from sleep despite his attempts to flatten it. He looked happy. Really happy When he returned to his bedroom, he stopped short in the doorway. Amy now sat cross-legged in the middle of his mattress, her computer and controller set aside. His eyes glanced to his computer, which Amy had now set back on his desk. She'd let her hair down from its bun, her red tipped strands falling around her shoulders. "Everything okay?" Matthew asked, confused by the change in position. "Don't want to play anymore?" Matthew was confused, but made his way into his room, intending to go sit at his desk. Amy's eyes met his, something shifting in her expression that sent a wave of heat through his stomach. "I was thinking maybe we could try a different game," she said, her voice softer than before. "Um, sure," Matthew replied, stepping toward the shelf where he kept his other games near his bed. "What did you want to—" His words cut off as Amy's hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the fabric of his t-shirt. Whether it was her unexpected strength or him being caught by surprise, Amy tugged him down beside her on the bed. Matthew landed with an ungraceful "oof," finding himself suddenly eye-to-eye with Amy, their faces inches apart on his rumpled comforter. "Hi," she whispered, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Hi," Matthew whispered back, his heart slamming against his ribs. Suddenly he understood what game she wanted to play. A game he feared he had far less experience with. There was a moment of suspended time, a breath, a heartbeat, and then Amy's lips were on his. Unlike their kiss outside the theater, which had started tentatively, this was immediately intense. Her mouth moved against his with surprising confidence, her hand sliding up to curl around the back of his neck, as she shifted her weight on top of him. Matthew hesitated, but then responded instinctively, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. The feeling was thrilling. Her hands slid wildly, moving under the hem of his hoodie, fingers tracing patterns against his back that made him shimmy. Matthew continued the kiss, one hand tentatively moved to her waist, then higher, his fingers encountering the soft fabric of her t-shirt. Amy arched slightly into his touch, a wordless encouragement that sent a bolt of electricity straight to his core. With shaking fingers, he slid his hand beneath her shirt, the warmth of her skin against his palm almost unbearable in its intensity. Amy's breath hitched, her hands tightening on his back as his fingers traced the edge of her bra strap. Matthew broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at Amy's flushed face. Her lips were slightly swollen, her eyes half-lidded with a desire that mirrored his own. There wasn't a single thought in his head that wasn't completely, thoroughly teenage. "Is this okay?" he whispered, his fingers hovering at the edge of her bra. Matthew fumbled with the bra strap before Amy let a giggle break their kiss. “Yes, but let me help,” she said, pulling back and stretching her hands behind her own back. Matthew couldn’t help but feel a little humiliated. But Amy, the ever sweet Amy, recognizing it, made it a bit better. “It’s confusing, don’t worry. We’ll practice.” And with that, Amy discarded her bra to the side, and pulled a redder faced Matthew back down to her.    He was sixteen years old, making out with a beautiful girl on his bed on a Sunday afternoon. There was nothing else in the world that mattered. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Time ceased to exist. Matthew's world narrowed to the sensations overwhelming him, Amy's fingers tangled in his hair, the soft warmth of her skin beneath his palm, the sweet taste of her lips against his. They were so absorbed in each other, so utterly lost in sensation, that neither heard the front door opening downstairs. Neither registered the sound of keys being set on the kitchen counter, or bags being set down. Neither perceived the voice calling up to them, or the footsteps ascending the stairs. The world outside their bubble simply didn't exist. Until it did.   "Ahem."   The sound of Sarah clearing her throat from the doorway might as well have been a bucket of ice water dumped over his naked body over and over and over. Matthew sprang back from Amy so quickly that Matthew nearly fell off the edge of the bed, catching himself at the last second on his nightstand. His heart, already racing from their activities, now pounded with a different kind of intensity: Pure, unadulterated, teenage mortification. Sarah stood in the doorway one eyebrow raised in that particular parental expression that communicated volumes without a single word. Her eyes took in the scene: the rumpled bedsheets, Matthew's hoodie on the floor, Amy's disheveled appearance, her bra discarded a foot from where Sarah now stood. Sarah took it all in with the measured assessment of a mother who had perhaps expected exactly this scenario, and so had warned his son against exactly this scenario. "I see the video gaming got rather... interactive," she said, her voice impressively even. Amy straightened up, smoothing her shirt down with a casualness that Matthew could only envy. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly swollen from their kisses, but she managed a small, embarrassed smile. "Hi, Ms. Ba—Sarah. We were just... um...Well, I guess you know" She said with a guilty smile, before scrambling to collect her bra and hold it behind her back. "I can see what you were 'just' doing," Sarah replied, though her tone held more wry amusement than anger. "I believe I mentioned something about behaving yourselves Matty?" Matthew wished desperately for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. In fact, he prayed for it for a moment. His face burned so hot he was certain he must be glowing like a traffic light. He couldn't meet Sarah's eyes, couldn't look at Amy, couldn't do anything but stare fixedly at a spot on his comforter, wanting to disappear entirely from this moment. "Sorry, Mom," he managed, his voice coming out as a mortified croak. The word "Mom" fell from his lips without hesitation or thought, feeling completely natural despite the bizarreness of the situation. In this moment, Sarah was entirely his mother. She was the parent who had caught him making out with a girl in his bedroom. And not for a single second did the thought of her as his wife flicker through his consciousness. Amy quickly excused herself to go to the bathroom. The casual way she fixed her clothing suggested a coolness with the situation that Matthew couldn't begin to match. She returned in just a moment and ran her fingers through her tousled hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. "It's getting late," Sarah said, glancing at her watch. "Amy, would you still like to stay for dinner? Or would you like a ride home? I'd be happy to have you, but it’s whatever you want." "A ride home would be great, thanks," Amy replied, sliding around the bed and grabbing her backpack from the floor. She glanced at Matthew, a small smile playing at her lips despite the interruption. "Thanks for having me over. The game was... fun." Matthew wanted to respond, to say something - anything - that might salvage a shred of his dignity, but his vocal cords seemed paralyzed with embarrassment, and before he could speak, Amy was off bouncing down the stairs. But his mom remained. "Matthew," Sarah said, her tone softening slightly. "That was not behaving yourself. Downstairs next time, thank you." There was a hint of a smile in her voice, not unkind but definitely amused at his obvious distress. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes. Maybe use that time to... straighten up in here?" "Bye, Matthew," Amy called from the first floor. "Text me later?" "Y-yeah," he finally managed, the word escaping like air from a punctured balloon. As Sarah’s footsteps receded down the stairs, and the sound of the door opening and closing echoed in the house, Matthew remained frozen on the bed, heart still pounding, cheeks still blazing with embarrassment. He flopped backward, covering his face with both hands and releasing a groan that contained the essence of teenage mortification distilled into a single sound. Matthew stared at the ceiling, replaying the moment of Sarah appearing in the doorway with the particular brand of obsessive horror unique to teenagers caught in compromising situations. Each replay sent a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over him. What would he even say to her when she got back? How could he ever look her in the eye again? And yet, beneath the mortification, a tiny spark of something else flickered, a whisper of anticipation about the next time he would see Amy, about the text message he would send her later, about the possibility of continuing what they had started.

“Diapers diapers pl-please I-i have to go diapers daddy!” The last smack jolted her and like a baby that she was turning into  she wet herself.   She cried from embarrassment humiliation and the pain of her spanking!