Lost tits

So, I wake up in my college dorm bathroom. The only light is that filtering through the filmy windows high above the showers. I am alone. I try the door, only to find myself locked in. Then I realize that it’s the first morning of Thanksgiving break, and since the dorms were cleared out and locked, I am stuck for the next four days.

Fuck fucks fuck. I gotta stop cursing because this is not helping. How did I even end up in the bathroom?? I really can’t remember anything from last night. It must have been a bonkers night. My head feels like a pig crapped in it.

What to do, what to do, what to do!!

Mmmh! I feel my phone in my pockets. Thank goodness I still got it. I dial Kyllan so he can figure out how to solve my small problem. I cannot stay hungry for four days. I can barely last 8 hours without food.

Tits tits tits. I could play with my tits as I wait for Kyllan. Shit! My tits are missing. Where the fuck are my tits? I remember having them before going to the party last night. Shit, the last time I lost my tits, I had willingly given then to the disk jockey because I really enjoyed the music he was playing and thought my tits would make the perfect reward. Thankfully, he returned them the next day as soon as I sobered up. What a nice lad he was. That could have gone so badly with me ending up in jail for sexual harassment. Who knew a day would come when sexually harassed men would get the justice they deserve. The world is indeed getting better.

This is the worst time to lose my tits. What will I tell my boyfriend? He told me to leave my tits with him so I don’t lose them. Looks like I was too overconfident with my idea of responsible drinking. Shit! At least I got four days to come up with the best excuse as to why I do not have my tits.

What if I gave them to a stranger? They could be somewhere milking the hell out my tits, or even worse, they could be suckling directly from my nipples. Oh no! My nipples could come back shriveled. Eeew, I cannot think about this right now.

Please don’t!” I scream in my head. My fifth horseman of the apocalypse (paranoia) has reared its head. I can’t think of anything else other than my lost tits now. Looks like he is followed by his dear friend anxiety. I really need Kyllan right about now.

What if my tits get sold on the black market? I cannot walk around tit-less and I do not want to get new tits. I should send Kyllan to the tit auction just in case they will be there.

My threesome with paranoia and anxiety is interrupted with a phone call. Kyllan is here with some Pym particles. He passes them through the window, I shrink and walk out through the window. I unshrink and hug Kyllan for saving the day once again. Thank goodness he is a robot or else he would have been tired of me already.

Here are your tits ma’am.” Those were the best five words I had heard in a really long time. Turns out, Kyllan had my tits tracked and the moment I separated from them, he noticed and went to collect them from some dairy farmers who were already prepping them for milking. I love you Kyllan.

Time to find my man and probably not tell him what happened.

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