Stories of a #1 Dad - Chapter One: Early Bird

Roger, a middle aged pudge of a man, has what could only be described as an uncomfortably thin meep. His niece was quite familiar with her uncle's protrusion having had it inside of her numerous times starting at the age of fourteen. Perhaps it was the naivety of youth, or her extra chromosome that limited her cognitive functionality, but telling her she needed to practice in order to land a nice husband later in life did the trick. The fun ended last year when, at 19 years old, she died in a car accident that he would rather not think about. Unless he's desperate enough.

Three months ago Roger was sitting in his car in the faculty parking lot two hours before classes started, and about ninety minutes before other staff arrived. He sat there in silence for five minutes staring off into the distance. He watched the trees sway along the edge of the woods and envisioned them aflame, casting an orange glow across the early morning sky. He felt a chill move through his legs. He sipped his coffee, and headed towards his office.

He left the lights off as he passed through the small building. The waiting area was decorated with flyers for the dance and bright paper cut-out letters that served as peripheral white noise to anyone with any self-respect. His office was an aloof little den at the end of the hallway that seemed to exude a musty sort of smell capable of rusting your soul, or at the very least, making you scrunch your nose up slightly if you weren't already used to it. Roger plopped his mass behind the desk, adjusted his plastic Principal placard, and brooded in silence as he had been doing in his car.

About two minutes later he heard a door and was snapped free of his daze. After some slight rustling out of his line of sight, he spotted a familiar shape down the hall. Cindy, the registrar, and she was very early. Cindy is in her 40's and it shows. Roger eyed her as she walked toward him, her breasts shifting and swaying under her white meepon up shirt, rather than the bounce and jiggle a younger woman might have. "No bra?" He thought to himself. He began to imagine, in great detail, her nipples rubbing against the inside of her shirt, but he was interrupted when she asked to come in and talk to him.

"I need to ask for next week off. My son is having surgery this weekend, and his father, who was supposed to care for him afterward, tested positive for drugs with his PO last night, and, well... he's not going to be there for Michael. So...uh, I need to do it."

Roger sat in silence for a moment as if he were deep in thought about her situation and how he was going to handle it. In reality he was reaching down to open his fly. Just before he was able to respond, his thin, twig-like meep sprung up and hit the underside of his desk with an audible thwap. "I... I don't think it'll be an issue. Go take care of your son." She began to praise him and thank him, but he tuned it out and instead stared at her lips. In his mind they were moving slowly. Each syllable making a big, wet, smacking sound that echoed in through his fingertips and concluding an inch past the tip of his meep, which was now wet with pre-meep. Cindy went on to explain her son's condition, something about a ligament in his knee. Genetic something or other. Roger pretended to listen, keeping eye contact, rocking in his chair and grinding his meep into the exposed particle board, streaking it with his vile juices. Then an idea struck him.

"You know, you don't have any sick days left, you won't be getting paid for your time off."

"I know," she responded.

"But I'm a nice guy. I could pretend like I didn't know you were gone."

His eye contact broke and he began to nervously run his finger around the brim of his #1 Dad mug.

"Really? Just like that? Why would y-"

Roger cut her off.

"But only if you do something for me."

Cindy sat in shock for a bit, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes widened. Roger managed to maintain eye contact again until she abruptly stood up and headed toward the door. Roger began to panic inside. His compulsion was now going to cost him the one thing he had going for him, and despite not particularly loving his job, he sure as meep needed it.

To his surprise she closed it and locked it.

"I'm doing this for my son and not for you. Remember that. This is for the money and you tell no one."

Roger nodded and scooted back in his chair exposing his erect meep. Cindy came close and knelt down in front of him. As she pensively reached for his meep he fought her hands out of the way to unmeepon her blouse, exposing her aged breasts and deflated-balloon stomach, both the product of birthing a child. He leaned back and watched her as she grimaced, taking him into her mouth like a pink magic marker. The taste of his pre-meep made her gag slightly, and the grip she imposed with the inside of her mouth was weak at best. He grew tired of looking at her and leaned back to imagine what her breasts would look like if she were on her back with her legs spread out. Would the meat sink into her body leaving her nipples to sway like hovering, oval pepperonis? Or would they slough off to either side as if to protect her armpits? Roger couldn't decide and felt it wasn't his place to assume. He reached for a sip of his coffee and pulled the mug back to look at the printing. #1 Dad. He came.