The Trojan Horse Wore Hightops

Sunnie was electric, standing on the front porch of a boring house in a boring cul-de-sac. The only one here alive. A chill grew in the air. The hot, spring sky darkened with the impending storm but didn't ease the cold sweat making her black, "Misfits" tee shirt stick to her back, pits and the bottoms of her breasts, where they oozed out from her poorly-fitted bra. All those nights of internet sleuthing in Juvenile Hall had come to this moment. Her raison d'etre. What would life be like tomorrow? Who cared?

Today was payback.

Her nervous hand shook the bottle of pills like a rattle and she squeezed tight enough to start to crush it. Someone inside the house moved and she hadn't rang the doorbell yet. Shit.

Fingers rubbed the rough label with the name of the man she'd stolen it from on the Greyhound bus to Memphis and she tipped it back to let all four, little blue diamonds tumble into her dry throat, sticking on the way down. She pocked it then took a drink of water from the fancy aluminum hydroflask she'd shoplifted back in Dallas. Some spilled with her shaking but it did the job and she managed not to choke.

She put it away and untucked the clipboard from her sweaty armpit. Her ID was clipped on her jacket, looking exactly like a real one. Those Photoshop lessons turned out to have more value than for digitally inking her own dirty comics.

With her dree hand, she pulled her black, handkerchief-patterned, face mask back up over her mouth and nose before she pressed the doorbell.

DING-DONG.

There was still time to run. To where? Down the street? Out of the subdivision? To the bus stop, two miles away? Public transit was worse here than Texas but this wasn't the kind of community welcoming easy access anyway.

The endangered species of White Patriarchy and their Stepford Wives had shiny, European Crossovers for when they needed to escape the zoetrope of color-coded, model homes and HOAs. Nobody else belonged here who wasn't driving for DoorDash or Ubering soccer moms and fat, UFC dads to drunken nights out at chain restaurants or trashy, strip-mall bars where they could try to cheat on their spouses.

Sunnie was used to things not being easy. The hardest part about walking was trying to look respectable enough to not be stopped by the private, neighborhood security officers. Being 19, hot and looking very much a girl, made it a lot easier.

Footsteps approached and Sunnie moved closer to peek over the bottom edge of the semi-circle window in the white, front door. Would she recognize her? Of course she would. She had stared at the pictures she printed for the whole bus ride from Dallas to Memphis and she'd been jerking off to them for months before, as if she needed to train herself to be able to fuck this cow. Even if she didn't, that freak body was unmistakable. How could a woman be married to a surgeon for all these years and never have a breast reduction? She must be so proud of them. The slut.

Her cock throbbed down the pant leg of her tight jeans and her heart beat faster still. Footsteps were getting louder. The husband would be at work, wouldn't he? There were no cars in the driveway but there weren't at most of the houses. Who knew if there were one or two inside? Why wouldn't he would be working? Today was a Tuesday, an hour before lunch. Doctors on TV worked all the time.

Through the window, a woman rounded a corner into view and stopped as she saw the eyes peeking over. Kimberly Weber wore heather grey sweats as she half-hobbled from her obvious encumbrance, her top many sizes bigger than her otherwise matching pants and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, bunched up enough, they'd consume her hands if they weren't. The baggy, ill-fit left her looking quite heavy in general but having seen pictures, Sunnie saw the meat from air. There wasn't much she could wear which would hide a rack like a pair of over-inflated basketballs, even with her obvious lack of bra.

In the elaborate, revenge porn comic version of her plan she'd written, drawn and carried in her backpack, Kimberly answered the door in a sexy negligee. She invited her in after an eyeful of the giant bulge in her pants but that part likely wouldn't go so easily either.

Despite her outfit and exhausted appearance, Kim had potential be stunning, a natural, dishwater blonde like Sunnie and a similar complexion, telling of too much time indoors. Blue-grey eyes were sharp and curious over angular cheekbones and a perfect little nose. She'd have been popular with the boys even with a dozen less cup sizes and also looked like a respectable human being but it was better for her body to advertise she was definitely not worthy of respect.

Her hair was cut past her shoulders but unevenly, some months since her last, cheap haircut and the remnants of bangs were down to her jaw, racing to catch up to the rest. Her lips hung parted, showing off how full they were while making her look trout-mouthed and dumb. Built like a bimbo, the only evidence she wasn't was Sunnie was smart, but she might have got it from whoever her Dad was.

Despite her attention-grabbing appearance, it was impossible to not notice the mess behind her. Stacks of empty, Amazon boxes piled in the entryway and in the adjacent, dining room. With her view partially obstructed, she saw several dirty glasses, plates and empty, Blue Bell ice cream cartons. Sunnie knew Kimberly was a size queen slut but didn't expect such a slob.

Her throat was dry again and she tried to swallow a mouthful of dust. Sweaty hands trembled, her breath shook and her palms sweat in all the signs of weakness she'd managed to quell in the jungle rules, bitch-eat-bitch hierarchy of the Justice System. No one was going to try to take advantage of her on the front porch of this subdivision, master-planned gingerbread house but she only had one shot to convince Mrs. Kimberly Weber to let her in her house so she could seduce her.

'Breathe, Sunnie.'

She steadied herself, forgiving the momentary lapse of composure, given the circumstances. It wasn't every day you first meet your own, biological mother.

Kim grabbed a mask from somewhere beside the door and put it on, a blue and white polka dot pattern that looked homemade. The door swung open, the way trusting people opened them. Sunnie's eyes fell to Kim's lips then the giant tits she was trying to keep hidden, awkwardly leaning out.

"Yes dear?"

In her head, Kimberly's voice was a sexy seductress, with a cigarette rasp, seducing with every word. In reality, Kim sounded like a kindly school teacher, with a hint of familiar, Texas twang. She must have tried to lose it so she wouldn't sound dumb to her husband's fancy friends.

Sunnie liked her own accent. The city girls in Juve said it made her sound dumb too and if they'd been more accepting of her, she may have wound up talking the way they did. They hadn't and she was all on her lonesome. An outsider. It was fitting she would talk like some old west outlaw. Aside from her looks, brains and drawing skills, the way she talked was one of the few things she was proud of.

She caught Kim noticing her body with subtle, self-aware darts of her eyes. Whether revulsion, lust or plain curiosity, she was used to being noticed. If her mom was bi, this was going to be a lot easier. That seemed like an appropriately slutty thing for her to be.

"I'm so glad someone's actually home. No cars in these driveways."

"The HOA requires everyone to park in their own garages."

Sunnie nodded, the head movement making her realize she was staring. Her eyes tore away and down to her clipboard, mashed to her chest at an angle where Kim couldn't peek at the wrinkled printout attached: a PDF from the World Wildlife Fund, she'd spent 5 minutes editing before printing. "Uhh yeah. I'm looking for Mrs. Kimberley Weber? 728 Mossy Oak Trail." She glanced up in time to see Kim's expression spoil in real-time.

"Miss. Carlyle. I'm divorced."

Sunnie paused. The background reports hadn't mentioned that.

"Divorced?"

"Divorced. It happens sometimes." Kim didn't seem very satisfied with the answer herself.

How out of date was this background check? Kimberly Weber had been married since she was 18 and had surely cheated countless times, every time a long, fat dick had been offered. How often could she indulge her sick desire before Doctor Weber found out and left her?

"Oh. I'm sorry. Ms Carlyle. My name is Sunnie and I'm here on behalf of the 'Strength in Solitude Foundation.' Have you heard of it?" She'd repeated the name to herself over and over again on the walk there, hoping to make it sound legitimate.

"I haven't."

In the distance, thunder rumbled. She timed her arrival perfectly.

"Strength in Solitude is like the Make-A-Wish Foundation but for orphans. We offer career training to young adults who have been chewed up and spit out by the system."

"Oh. That sounds nice but I thought 'Make A Wish' was for kids with terminal illnesses."

Shit. She should have done her homework better. Did her eyes give it away? "I mean we're like 'Make-A-Wish' as a charity helping young people have a brighter future." That didn't make sense. Keep going before she can process.

"We don't hear about orphans much anymore but we're out there. Less than 25% graduate High School or equivalent. Less than 8% attend college. More than 40% wind up with a criminal record." Those numbers were made up in advance but they sounded dramatic enough and possibly weren't so far off. "Orphanages are basically jails but for kids." That part was true, from her own experience.

"Oh, how terrible. I thought there was a lot more adoption happening." It wasn't raining yet and she needed to stall.

"That's what everyone thinks but did you know 22 percent of fosters end up back in orphanages?"

There it was. Right on her face. The knife, sinking in.

"17 percent of the girls. Over 30 percent of the boys are put back in the system and most of them, in jail."

Kimberly's face registered the twisting knife predictably but those numbers were also a lie. Only the worst kids Sunnie had known came back and perhaps she was destined to be one of them but all the real, bad behavior happened later. All it took for her former, foster parents to reject her was for their 'son' to rapidly develop tits and hips shortly after his 12th birthday.

"Let me grab my checkbook."

"Take your time." Sunnie smiled and her eyes fell to Kim's butt as soon as she turned around. The ice cream hadn't ruined her. She'd fantasized about breaking that ass without ever having actually seen it and now she wanted it more. No one had ever let her try anal, thanks to her size and her cock twitched again at the thought. Were the pills kicking in yet?

Kim left her standing at the cracked door while she disappeared back into the separated kitchen. The wind picked up, much cooler than before and it swung the door further open. The rain would start any minute. Perfect.

"So, just you in this giant house?" Sunnie said, speaking up.

"They took pity on me in the settlement," Kim called back. Yeah right. She probably blew the judge. She wouldn't need anyone's sympathy if she hadn't done anything wrong. How could she tug that thread without causing suspicion?

"No kids?" Sunnie huffed, disappointed in herself.

"None. That was part of the problem."

"In the divorce?"

"Mmmhmmm. He wanted kids. Well, we both wanted them but I wasn't delivering. Turns out he'd been cheating with a colleague and left me for her in the first month of the pandemic. Their daughter just had her first birthday."

"He was cheating?" She hadn't considered much how Doctor David Weber would have had as many opportunities to do so. "What, with like, his secretary?"

Kim hobbled back to the door, checkbook and pen in hand. Her eyes were low with an uncomfortable laugh. "I should be so lucky. He left me for another surgeon at a Children's hospital and our church. A real pillar-of-the-commuting type. Everyone loves the both of them, so somehow I'm the bad guy." She bent down at an end table to start writing a check.

"You never cheated?"

Kim's demeanor soured as she looked back to the door. "No."

Sunnie squirmed in her clothes. She had to be lying but an accusation wasn't going to get her in the door. Kim was a deviant and a pervert. How could she be anything else? "Sorry, I just... I mean, you're really pretty."

Kim's nostrils flared. "Right. Pretty. What do I write the check out to? 'Strength in Solitude,' you said?"

Sunnie hadn't considered checks. People still use those? She hadn't thought about taking any actual payment. She wasn't here for money but that would be good too. She should find something to steal on her way out and pawn off for bus tickets. "Yeah, sure."

Kim tore out the check and walked back to the door, slowing down and peering past Sunnie at the darkened sky. "Here you go. I hope you don't have many more houses."

Sunnie looked back to see the rain was falling, like the weather report had said. Was this not going to work? She turned to the door to find Kim had stuck her head out further, curiously, revealing more of herself. "Where's your car? You're walking? In this neighborhood?"

Sunnie nodded. "Yeah, from the bus stop. Couple miles."

There was a long moment of consideration. "Look, I hate to send you out in a rainstorm. Are you vaxxed?"

"Yeah, Mo... Moderna."

"Want to come inside?"

'Repeatedly. Til I put a fucked-up, deformed baby in you, you whore.'

With another glance over her shoulder, Sunnie winced and feigned hesitation before nodding. "Thank you, yes. Looks like it's getting worse."

The door opened with Kim stepping back, revealing the cavernous and messy, vaulted ceiling living room and less deliberately, the obscene body of her estranged mother in full silhouette. Sunnie had never seen anything like her. The comic version of her mother wasn't this busty.

"You should know more than anyone, it's not polite to stare." Sunnie was startled into looking up to see Kim's exaggerated attention to her own chest. "Those Skull eyes are like muppet's, stretched out like that." She laughed and relaxed.

Sunnie snickered and blushed nervously, stepping in. It was a reminder enough to tear her eyes away. "Sorry. So, you're single now? Got a lot of boyfriends?"

"Shoes," Kim barked as Sunnie's Chuck Taylor's first touched the carpet. She looked confused, then her Mother did, that she might have to explain. "Please take off your shoes."

Sunnie froze and nodded. She bent down to untie and slip them off, then awaited instructions.

"Have a seat?" she said with uncertainty and gestured to what must be the living room. "Pardon the mess." It was a mess, with clothes on the couch and matching loveseat, balled up socks and slippers on the floor, ice cream cartons and dirty dishes on the coffee table. A subtle stink in the room suggested at least one cat hid elsewhere in the house. Kim brushed past her for a strafing run of cleaning up the worst offenders before she rushed back into the kitchen.

Alone for the moment, Sunnie snapped back into action, studying the room. Other than the wall mounted TV and entertainment center beneath, there was a bookshelf under the front window, filled but not arranged with all kinds of new-agey sounding titles about loving yourself or whatever. It was the perfect place.

Thunder rumbled outside, a soft growl of warning. She slipped her iPhone out of her jeans pocket and deftly flicked to Video Camera mode. After a quick glance back to the kitchen confirming she was still alone, she squatted and hit Record, then leaned the phone up against a book, aiming it at the couch. That was where she would fuck her mother.

An excited shiver shook her and a throb of excitement pulsed down her thigh as she hurried over. She shrugged off her backpack, unclipped her fanny pack and sat down, right in time.

"What was it you asked me?" Kim jostled as she waddled back in. She had taken off her mask and was beautiful again, if sad and tired. Sunnie imagined how she'd have looked at her own age. Kim was hotter.

Stranger still, she was so familiar. White girls were the minority in juve and prison because everyone knew the system was racist but there was enough representation of poor, white junkies, scammers and psycho girlfriends for it to not be awkward. Still, it was strange to see a face anywhere close to her own. She'd never met anyone she was related to before.

"If I had a lot of boyfriends? No. I have no boyfriends. The Amazon guy and the Postman are the closest thing and I've seen a couple of Instacart drivers more than once but nobody ever gets through the doors except for cute orphans who don't check the weather."

Sunnie couldn't help but smile but her laugh was skeptical. Thankfully her mask still hid it. "Really? When did you get divorced?"

"We separated in April of last year but the divorce wasn't final until recently. He saved a bunch on alimony by dragging it out."

'Golddigger,' Sunnie scoffed in her head. "So you're not out meeting new guys after all this time?"

Kim stopped at the edge of the loveseat, bracing herself. "Forward, aren't you?"

"Sorry, no. I didn't mean to pry. It just seems like... a long time."

"I'm going to need a drink for this conversation. Are you old enough for a beer?" She pointed and narrowed her eyes. Sunnie gave a deep, single nod and that was confirmation enough for Kim to head back to the kitchen. "You can take off your mask," she called out on her way and Sunnie obliged behind her back. She continued from the next room, speaking louder.

"It IS a long time. Way too long. I've tried some of the websites but it turns out getting married right out of high school means you don't really know how to date. Also, everyone is horrible. You probably already know that." She returned with two cans of White Claw. Sunnie had heard this was what millennial parents drink but had never had one. Kim handed her a can then flopped down on the loveseat, perpendicular to her.

"Never tried the online thing." They wouldn't let her in jail.

Kim was surprised but didn't inquire further. "Well, they're terrible. Global pandemics don't help much but neither does looking like this."

"Really? I thought they would."

"If I was just out for hookups with guys with weird fetishes, I guess? I don't know. I'm too much for some people. Somewhere, a little past your cup size, people stop thinking your boobs are sexy and start looking at you like some kind of monster. Best case, makes it real hard to tell the boyfriend material from the perverts. I'm surprised I have to tell you that."

Sunnie wasn't playing dumb and was genuinely stumped. At 12 she'd gone from a Foster home to orphanage, at 14 to juvenile hall and at 18, to the women's prison. What her mother said made sense but relationships were different on the inside. Of course everyone was after her for sex, whether pleasure or conquest. Nobody wanted a freak girlfriend but Kim didn't need her life story. Especially not the incarceration parts. "Kinda... sheltered in the orphanage, I guess."

"Right. So you still live there? But you're old enough to drink?"

Sunnie gave a crooked grin and stole a guilty sip. "Old enough in Mexico?" Kim's eyes narrowed into a scowl but her mouth betrayed a smile. Better to change the subject. "So like, no boyfriends since your husband, twelve months ago? None?" She would change the subject after. She had to know.

Kim's fake scowl became a real frown. "I didn't find anyone worth the risk. And I've totally forgotten how to do this stuff. I barely leave the house, even when we were married. It gets hard to make friends when you're older and everyone I met here over the last few years I thought was my friend, turned out to be his."