Alright, this is something a little different. Mindy's Ordinary Life began as a CYOA-style roleplay with a user. She provided the scenario and central character, I wrote 95% of the content and gave her choices to make at various junctures to lead the story down different paths. My philosophy with this design was a little bit of regular CYOA (a la Goosebumps), and a little bit Japanese visual novel as the story moves on. I have 50 pages of text already, but the roleplay is still in progress so I'll tidy it up and post as we go.
Now Mindy is a bit of a blank slate at times, because she was kind of a self-insert character for my partner. As a result, the story doesn't include a whole lot of physical descriptions at first. The short version, though, is that Mindy is a petite girl with short, dyed hair, small breasts and a fifteen-inch futa cock. Yep. The next paragraph is the initial scenario as presented to me by my partner, just for a little background.
"Mindy lives a rather boring life, there's really no way to sugar coat it. She goes to work every day as a customer care representative. Just another drone lost in the sea of cubicles to make enough money to pay for her beige Camry that she drives home to her studio apartment. She doesn't go out much, the nightlife is all the way back in the city so most nights she just stays in with a couple glasses of wine and some Netflix. Occasionally she'll get a match on Tinder but most evenings she's stuck getting her 15 inch pole off all by herself."
As for the technical details: my partner's responses to the questions posed will be marked with [[square brackets]]. Some are meaningful choices, others are just ways to break up the story. You've read enough of my blather now, so let's get into it.
*****
It's nine o'clock on a Friday night, and you're watching a bad movie on Netflix in your underwear, wondering whether you can be bothered jerking off before bed, when there is a knock on the door. Quickly you grab a long jacket and throw it on to maintain your modesty, pause the movie and answer.
"Excuse me, ma'am." It's a tall man in a suit, wearing a face mask like the ones you'd use to avoid spreading a cold. It muffles his voice slightly, but you can still understand him as he informs you there's been a chemical spill on the floor below. There's nothing to worry about right now, he assures you, but he insists that you evacuate the building until it has been cleared of potentially hazardous fumes.
You take a moment to grab your phone and keys, but in your hurry you forget your wallet. It's not until you're halfway down the stairs that you also realise you're still only wearing underwear, a jacket and the flip-flops that you slid on by your front door.
In just a couple of minutes, you find yourself standing outside the ground floor of your apartment building, watching with some curiosity as men and women in hazmat suits bustle past, carrying all kinds of bizarre equipment.
"Cleaning up the spill shouldn't take too long," says the man who came to evacuate you, "but it will be a while before the building is cleared for occupation. Probably twenty-four hours at least. I'm terribly sorry about this, but please find somewhere to stay for the weekend. Some compensation will be worked out between the council and the company responsible for the spill if you need to pay for a room."
With that, he leaves you. Alone, half-dressed and mildly put out by the intrusion on your boring, yet comfortable evening. You check your phone: 60% battery. Will you call a coworker to come and pick you up? Or do you take your chances and look for a motel who will let you pay through internet banking? Or are you feeling adventurous?
[[I choose to call my work friend Stacy! She'll help me out surely :)]]
"You weren't kidding about everybody going crazy round here, huh," Stacy comments drily, flipping a strand of hair out of her face as she leans on the top of her car to gawk at the situation. Another van has arrived, along with a police car which has parked across the front entranceway with its lights flashing. Indistinct figures in hazmat suits hurry back and forth, some setting up a cordon of black-and-yellow tape around the area. For better or worse, your home is off-limits for the weekend. Thank god for Stacy.
Stacy is the only thing that keeps you sane at work. There aren't many girls at your office job, and you honestly find most of them catty and shallow. Stacy, however, was transferred in from a different department a few months ago and immediately made an impression on you. Five foot three and incredibly curvy, she became the target of almost every man in the building. Her tanned olive skin, wavy black hair and vivacious eye-smile aside, she was also one of the sweetest girls you ever met, and even you developed a bit of a girl-crush on her. It eventually came out that she had a fiance, though, which dissuaded all but the most persistent suitors. As a genuinely nice - if somewhat boring, by your own admission - girl in a male-dominated office, she naturally gravitated towards you and it wasn't long until you were fast friends. You sneak off together at lunch breaks to sit on the roof (which is technically off limits), she sends you dumb jokes via IM when she sees you looking deflated at your desk. As a happily taken woman, she doesn't have much in common with the other girls at work, who are more interested in gossipping about each other, clubbing and finding some new dick to jump on for the weekend.
"I know!" she says in response to your protest. "I know you have a car, but I was already out and about when you called. Come on, hop in and we'll get you indoors before you catch a cold. Darren's out for the weekend on a business trip, so you can bunk with me."
The thought makes you shiver slightly with some emotion you can't quite quantify. Nevertheless, you slide into the passenger seat of Stacy's green Honda Civic and let her drive you through town.
As she drives, Stacy grills you curiously about the chemical spill. No, you tell her, you don't know whose fault it is. Nor do you know what got spilled or how. She looks a little put out, but laughs it off. "We'll have a sleepover!" she says. "It's been ages since I had a girls' night. We can watch Netflix, drink bubbles and eat junk food in our pajamas - it'll be great!"
You smile awkwardly, shifting in your seat. Stacy's idea of a wild night appeals to you in a strange sort of way. No boys, no dirty clubs with pounding music and overpriced, tasteless beer. Still, you can't help but be nervous. This is the first time you've been to Stacy's place. Or any friend's place, for that matter - since middle school, at least. Being a futa, you always were hesitant about doing things like that. But tonight, you didn't have any choice.
You feel a slight flush creep into your cheeks as Stacy pulls into the driveway of a suburban two-bedroom. It's not extravagant, but it's a lot nicer than your apartment, that's for sure. Darren must pull in a lot of cash to afford a place like this, because Stacy's call centre salary sure isn't paying for it.
Stacy opens the front door and curtseys theatrically as she holds it open for you. "
Mi casa es su casa
," she says with a giggle. "Oh, leave your coat on the rack there, babe."
