Chapter 1: The Superglue Surprise
The nightlight cast long, jumping shadows across the clutter of Emma’s room. It was the only light; the window was boarded up, a consequence of Luke’s last ‘experiment’ involving a tennis ball launcher, and the door was firmly locked. Posters of moody indie bands watched over the chaos of clothes, textbooks, and empty mugs.
Emma sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone. A text from Ryan, her boyfriend of three weeks, glowed on the screen. Can’t stop thinking about Friday night. Her stomach did a little flip. Friday night had involved a lot of making out on his couch and his hand tentatively sliding under the hem of her top. It had been exciting, new, and… confusing.
A soft knock at the door made her jump. “Em? You awake?” It was Jessie, her nanny—though at twenty-four, ‘cool older sister who got paid’ was more accurate.
“Yeah, come in,” Emma called, unlocking the door.
Jessie slipped inside, her friendly face concerned. She was holding two mugs of tea. “Heard you sighing from the hallway. Ryan stuff?”
Emma took a mug, the warmth soothing against her palms. “Is it that obvious? It’s just… he wants to… you know. Go further. And I want to too, I think. But I don’t know what I’m doing. At all.” She groaned, flopping back onto her pillows. “The internet is a terrifying place of too much information and weird diagrams.”
Jessie laughed, settling on the edge of the bed. “Okay, first, breathe. It’s not a final exam. It’s supposed to be fun.” She took a sip of her tea. “Look, do you want some real talk? Practical advice?”
“God, yes. Please.”
“Okay. Communication is everything. And… being comfortable with yourself first helps. Knowing what you like.” Jessie’s tone was matter-of-fact, kind. “Sometimes, exploring on your own, with… aids… can take the pressure off. Demystify things.”
Emma felt her cheeks burn, but she nodded. This was why she’d asked Jessie. No judgment, just facts. “I… I actually bought something. Online. It arrived today.” She sat up, scrambling off the bed to dig through the shipping box by her desk. She pulled out a plain black box, her face scarlet. “It’s a… um. A double-ended one. I read it’s good for, like, partners figuring things out together.”
Jessie blinked, then a slow smile spread across her face. “Ambitious first purchase. But okay! That’s a great tool. The key is lubrication. Lots of it. Seriously, more than you think.”
“I got that too,” Emma said, holding up a small, sleek bottle of clear gel from the box.
Unseen, on the other side of the locked door, Luke Ross pressed his ear against the wood, his playful smirk widening into a grin. He’d been on his way to the kitchen when he’d heard the whispers. A double-ended dildo? Lube? This was gold. Pure, unadulterated prank gold. He tiptoed back to his room, his mind racing. In his top drawer, next to a half-built model rocket, was a nearly identical bottle of superglue he’d used for the model. The bottles were almost the same size. It was fate.
His movements were silent, precise. He slipped back into the hallway, listening. They were still talking, lower now. He tried the handle. Locked. No matter. The old house had vents that connected their rooms. He retrieved the glue, unscrewed the cap, and crouched by the vent in the hall. With the steady hand of a bomb disposal expert, he slid the open bottle into the vent opening and gave it a gentle, decisive shake. He heard a faint plop from Emma’s side of the wall.
Perfect. He replaced the now-empty glue bottle with the real lube from his own bathroom, screwing the cap on tightly. He gave the hall vent a fond pat and retreated to his room to wait, his entire body vibrating with suppressed laughter.
Back in Emma’s room, Jessie was in full practical mode. “Alright, let’s see it. And we’ll need that lube.”
Emma handed her the box and the bottle. Jessie popped the cap on the lube, giving it an experimental squeeze. A thick, clear glob oozed out. “Good consistency,” she said professionally. “Okay, ground rules. This is a clinical demonstration. No weirdness. We’re just two people discussing mechanics.”
“Clinical. Right. No weirdness,” Emma echoed, taking a deep breath.
“We should probably both be… unencumbered. Clothes get in the way for this.”
Emma nodded, her heart hammering. This was the most bizarre and strangely empowering moment of her life. They both quickly undressed, the flickering light dancing over their skin. Emma kept her eyes fixed on a poster on the wall, a wave of self-consciousness hitting her.
“Eyes on me or the product, Ross,” Jessie said gently, her own slight blush visible. “It’s just anatomy. Okay, lubrication is step one. Generous application.”
She squeezed a large amount of the clear gel onto her fingers and applied it to one end of the toy, then gestured for Emma to do the same to the other. The substance was oddly sticky, stringing between their fingers.
“Feels… different than I expected,” Emma mumbled, working it over the silicone.
“Some brands are like that. Okay, ready? Slow and steady. The goal is just to get a feel for the… logistics.”
They positioned themselves facing each other on the bed, the toy between them. Emma took another shaky breath. “Logistics. Okay.”
On the count of three, they both slowly guided their respective ends into position. There was a moment of tight, strange pressure, then a sense of connection. They both let out a simultaneous, relieved sigh that turned into nervous laughter.
“See? Not so scary,” Jessie said, her voice a little tight. “Now, the idea is you can experiment with movement, see what angles and—”
She tried to shift her hips slightly. Nothing happened. She frowned, pushing a little more firmly. A faint, cold dread began to pool in Emma’s stomach.
“Jessie?”
“Hold on. It’s… really snug.” Jessie’s voice had lost its clinical calm. She placed her hands on Emma’s shoulders for leverage and pulled back.
A sharp, stinging sensation ripped through both of them. They yelped in unison.
“Ow! Stop pulling!” Emma cried.
“I’m not! It’s stuck! It’s really, really stuck!” Panic edged into Jessie’s words. She looked down, then back at the bottle of ‘lube’ on the nightstand. She grabbed it, bringing it close to her face in the dim light. She gave it a cautious sniff. A sharp, chemical scent burned her nostrils.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, her face draining of color. “Emma… what does superglue smell like?”
The question hung in the air, absurd and terrifying. The reality crashed down on them, heavy and immovable. They were naked. They were connected. And they were glued together.
Down the hall, Luke heard the first muffled shrieks. He buried his face in his pillow, his body shaking with silent, rapturous laughter. This was his masterpiece. The perfect, harmless, hilarious prank.
The laughter died in his throat as the shrieks didn’t subside into annoyed yelling. They escalated. They were sharp, panicked, and real. He heard his sister’s voice, raw with terror. “We can’t get it apart! We’re stuck! We’re actually stuck!”
Luke sat up in the dark, his smirk vanishing. The cold weight of consequence, vast and unfathomable, settled in his chest for the very first time. This hadn’t gone too far. This had launched itself into a whole new stratosphere of disaster. He was suddenly, ice-cold sober.
He had no idea what to do.