Twenty-four days until Bonnibel graduates college, twenty-four hundred dollars a year, including scholarships, and twenty-four hours until her uterus is supposed to shred it's own lining and expel an unfertilized egg. Unfortunately for her, twenty-four minutes ago Aunt Flo decided to visit a day early, halfway through second period P.E.
Female biology has never been more inconvenient. The delightful poetry inscribed into the bathroom stall does little to lift her spirits, but she ends up fishing around for a sharpie to correct the abhorrent grammar anyway.
Your only as good
As your last hit
And my big break
Was this huge shit
*you're
The oversized bag Bonnibel drags around offers nothing to save her. She can picture the box of tampons sitting perfectly untouched in her locker two floors up. Several impossibly hare-brained schemes cross her mind, one of which involves creating an entirely new and improved sanitary napkin as well as obtaining a permit to acquire and process large levels of uranium. It's good, but it's pretty long game, so she'll put that idea on the backburner for a day when she isn't trapped in the ladies' bathroom.
When the door clicks open Bonnibel curses her own luck, unwillingness to believe in superstition be damned. Her tights are thoroughly ruined and there's not a scrap of tissue in sight. Just as Bonnibel is beginning to contemplate the possibility of using loose leaf paper for purposes it was never intended, she hears the mechanical click of a lighter. Several moments pass before a cloud of smoke drifts underneath the stall.
Bonnibel can hardly fathom such a high level of narcissism, to be so completely discourteous to the other students. The bathroom is a public space! A freshman could be in here changing and get the wrong idea about the kind of people who attend their university. Bonnibel isn't fond of being called a wet blanket, but at this point not speaking up would be the real crime here.
"Eugh," Bonnibel covers her face with the back of her hand. "Is that marijuana?"
A familiar voice greets her from the other side of the stall. "Um I dunno..." Silence stretches as the bathroom fills up with enough fog to rival a witch's brew. "I can't really smell much over all the blood."
An upward glance proves Bonnibel's hypothesis. The vampire is hovering above her in plain sight, pale skin gleaming under the flourescent lighting.
"Marceline!" she complains.
Bonnibel folds her arms to demonstrate that modesty and basic human decency still exist. Marceline stares down undeterred, looking outrageously pleased with Bonnibel's current predicament. She huffs, trying to smooth over her own embarrassment.
"And what, I'm expected to believe you're over two hundred years old but have never experienced a single menstrual cycle?"
Marceline laughs. "Nothing gets by you princess." She blows another stream of smoke into Bonnibel's face and she wrinkles her nose.
"That's really inconsiderate Marceline," she says between coughs. "Statistically speaking, secondhand smoke kills more than-"
Marceline rolls her eyes. "This isn't a cigarette, you know."
"I do know!" Bonnibel waves her hand to dispel the THC. "Now quit it before you give me a contact high! Are you trying to hotbox me in here?"
Working in a pharmacy means Bonnibel is subject to random drug testing at a moment's notice; contaminated urine is the last thing she needs. She's already on thin ice for missing two days this month after fainting during Final's week.
"Oh, is Princess Bubblegum too good for a little toilet toke?"
Marceline has been calling her that since freshman year when she shaved her head after falling asleep with two well chewed chunks of Bubbalicious in her mouth. It wasn't her fault. Studies show that gum-chewing improves test performance and information retention.
"Don't call me that!" Her voice rises with impatience. "I don't do that kind of crap anymore, okay?"
It's been two years since Bonnibel has ingested anything more dangerous than a poppy seed bagel.
Marceline doesn't look away. "You know if I were you, I'd be a little nicer."
"I don't owe you anything," Bonnibel brags.
Marceline shakes her head. "That is true," she starts slowly, "But you're in quite the predicament," she taunts, taking another drag. "And I think I'm the only one around who can help you out." Bonnibel's lips form a thin line when Marceline snickers. "Unless you wanna walk through the entire gym like a Red Cross car accident."
Another deep sigh presses at Bonnibel's lips, but she's already given in. "That's really insensitive, you know," she says, but there's no heart in it.
"Is it?" Marceline shrugs. "What happened to the Bonnie who used to show her bra strap to get access to absurdly high levels of uranium?"
Her face flushes. "That Bonnibel died because she never graduated high school and couldn't pay her way through college managing a wildly unsuccessful band!"
"I resent that," Marceline declares. "Scream Queens was only mildly unsuccessful."
Bonnibel groans. "Be that as it may be, it's over for me, Marceline. Next year is graduate school. No more games."
The silence hurts more than Bonnibel means it too. A small part inside her wants to ask for a shotgun, so she can feel Marcy's lips ghost over her own one last time. Instead Bonnibel watches her exhale before flicking the roach over her head.
"Don't be so uptight. You'll get all cleaned up and I get a snack. Fair and square."
"What?" Her breath catches in her throat as the realization dawns on her. "Are you implying that you're going to-that's disgusting! We are not doing that!"
"Hey, I thought you were progressive now. You can write all about it on your social justice blog."
For a second she almost feels guilty. Is that what she's doing? Stigmatizing her own female biology? Then she remembers that this is Marceline, the same vampire who's lived a thousand years but keeps revamping the same four years in college. If Bonnibel had unlimited time she'd spend it much, much more wisely.
"I was published in a scientific journal, Marceline."
Marceline throws her hands up in defense. "Fine, write about it in your science journal, then." She floats in a semi-circle and cocks her head, presumably for a better view. "C'mon Bonnie, I'm getting the munchies over here."
"Ugh." Bonnibel scrubs a hand across her face and frowns. "Fine."
Marceline's eyes widen. "For real?"
"Hurry up before I change my mind. Just don't make this into a whole thing, okay?"
Marceline smiles ear to ear. "Never crossed my mind."
A little innovation goes a long way. Bonnibel resolves to pull her shoes onto the toilet seat, crouching and staining the porcelain bowl bright red. Marceline tracks the droplets as they fall with dilated pupils, black edging the sclera. Her wide grin showcases two rows of pointed teeth and canines twice their size, hollow in the center.
"Stop looming and get to work already!"
The first lick just beside her clit makes her knees knock together in surprise. Bonnibel thrusts a hand between her legs to keep Marcy from making the same mistake twice. Marceline spreads her cunt wider and tilts her head, craning her neck for a better angle. Bonnibel decides against speaking when Marceline draws back and licks her lips.
"You taste sweet as bubblegum," Marceline teases, tapping her fingers against Bonnibel's waist.
"Stand up for me, cupcake."
"Stand up?" Bonnibel starts to say, but she falters before she can finish asking why.
Marceline slicks a finger where Bonnibel is oozing and pulls it into her mouth. "For a biology major, you're having a hell of a lot of trouble with the concept of gravity."
Bonnibel stands, scowl firmly in place as she gushes like Niagra falls. She squirms at the unpleasant feeling of blood trickling down her thighs. Marceline follows the wet trail to its source, easing her tongue along the opening to Bonnie's bloody pussy. She laps at the slit before sealing her mouth around the hole. The first suck dislodges something inside her and a little squeak Bonnibel can't squash fast enough.
Marceline pulls back with pink canines. "Enjoying yourself?"
"You wish," Bonnibel sneers. "Believe you me, when this is all over-"
Marceline surges forward before Bonnibel can finish speaking, spreading her vulva with two thumbs and plunging her tongue back inside. Her muscles contract as Marceline probes the soaked flesh of her pussy. It feels as though she sinks deeper with each thrust, and distantly Bonnibel remembers that Marceline can shapeshift.
Her hips inch forward as Marcy nuzzles closer, until her nose brushes strawberry blonde pubic hair. She levels her eyes with Bonnie's and raises a brow before licking her cunt clean. When she pulls back she only lets Bonnie catch her breath for a moment before mouthing at her clit.
"Hey, Marcy!" Bonnibel squeals, skin quivering. "I think you got it all."
Marceline's eyes revert to normal and her teeth retract halfway. Bonnibel resists the urge to cover herself when Marceline doesn't bother to hide her stare. She reaches two fingers between her legs and they come back clean. Marceline smiles, smug, before leaning in for a kiss.
Bonnibel backpedals so quickly she almost falls into the toilet. "Don't you dare try to kiss me Marceline!" Her heart sinks at the flash of hurt in Marceline's eyes. Bonnibel chews on her bottom lip before tossing her pride aside. "Thank you," she says at last, averting her eyes.
Marceline reaches into her pocket and tosses a tampon at her head as she retreats over the stall. "It was my pleasure, princess."