Meta Moore

By Sophie & Pudding

*Author's Note: We wrote this story because we feel the authors of ABDL stories (and kink stories in general) are often overlooked. We aren't just usernames on a website; we have names and preferences and goals. What makes us want to write? Why do we spend hours and hours making content just to give it away for free? What do we hope to get back from the community we represent? If those are questions you've never asked yourself - or if those are questions you've always wanted answered - then give this story a chance. We certainly can't represent every author in the world, but we promise that every kink writer will identify with Mia at one point or another. This is who we are on the other side of the screen.

This story is about an ABDL author named Mia Moore who is writing an actual ABDL series called Academy Works. At the time of this story's first chapter, Mia has written Academy I [Part 1], Academy B [Part 2], Academy T [Part 3], Academy K [Part 4], and the first six chapters of Academy A [Part 5]. Throughout this story, more chapters will be released (and clearly denoted). Though it isn't necessary to know anything about Academy Works to enjoy Mia's story, it might be fun to follow along as a fan of hers. In which case, we recommend you read *all four stories above and the first six chapters of the fifth story*.

SPOILERS: This story contains spoilers for Academy Works up to and including Academy A - Chapter 6.

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Wednesday, October 5th

1.)

I sunk down in my seat and rubbed my eyes under my glasses. The meet-up hadn't been a total disaster, but I didn't expect to run into someone I knew. Who drove two hours away to go to dinner, anyway? Me, I supposed.

I took a deep breath. It felt like the first deep breath I'd taken since bumping into Blossom Brixley. Well, we didn't literally bump into each other; I saw her from across the room. I ducked out before finishing my pizza and hurried back to the train station. The truth was, she probably didn't even know who I was.

Blossom Brixley was easy to spot from across a room. She was a tall girl with bottled-blonde hair, a slim, almost lanky frame, and a figure that people either wanted or wanted to have for themselves. She was the quintessential popular girl experience; cheerleader in high school, beloved by most, and - contrary to many snap-judgements - pretty clever. Good grades, good looks, and a smile that melted hearts the way summer melted ice cream. If life dealt hands, it was easy to presume that Blossom had been dealt a good one.

Blossom Brixley was easy to spot from across a room, but the girl she followed onto the train was facing away from the door. Just as the train lurched forward, Blossom plopped down in the seat across from the girl, so the two were facing each other. Blossom read the name tag on the girl's shirt, only to confirm that it said what she thought it said.

Mia Moore. She couldn't believe it… it was actually her.

I just about jumped out of my skin when she sat down. It was like waking up from a nightmare just to see the thing you feared standing above you in your bed. And the train had started to move: I couldn't run again. My heart rate doubled.

"Blossom..." I managed to eke out. Why was she on the train? She had a car; she sure talked about it enough in high school. But just because we were both on the train didn't mean she saw me at the munch. "Nice to, uh... see you."

Had I ever said this many words to her before? Four years at the same high school, two years at the same college, seven classes together... actually we had one together right now. She was impossible to miss. I, on the other hand, was impossible to notice.

"You're awfully jumpy!" Blossom laughed. She had done enough drugs to know what euphoria felt like. That was how she felt: euphoric, with a touch of anxiety. "I'm a girl, not a spider - nothing to be afraid of."

A girl, not a spider. That definitely didn't align with my schema of Blossom. In high school, she was often cruel. She was popular, but she was also smart; that made it worse. Then I noticed her looking down at my chest, or rather, the nametag I was still wearing from the munch. I quickly tore it off and crumpled it into a ball. Was my face hot? I felt a little sick.

"Well, it was nice seeing you," I said too quickly, pulling out my phone to pretend like I was replying to a text.

For a girl who cheered in front of her whole school for years, Blossom found herself oddly awestruck. She didn't bother the girl as she played on her phone, instead choosing to gaze out the window as the city went by. Trees. Then houses. Then buildings. There was a while left on the route, and there weren't many other people in the carriage. It was now or never, wasn't it?

"I've read your stuff, you know."

"Uh..." She read my stuff? She meant that she read my stuff online. She read that particular kind of stuff. Because she saw my nametag, because she knew who I was. But she knew who I was! She wasn't supposed to know both of me, no one was! And without thinking it through, without thinking about how stupid it sounded, I did the first thing that came to mind: I lied.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I knew you were gonna say that," Blossom laughed. "I mean, that's what anyone would say, right? I think that's what I'd say too, 'cause I think we think all deniability is plausible until it isn't, and it definitely isn't right now."

Blossom was rocking gently in her seat. Mia Moore was shorter than she was, enough so that even when sitting the difference was pretty clear. But even though she was taller, Blossom felt a lot like a kid on Christmas morning. Of all the munches in all the cities in all the world… had Blossom really been going to school with Mia Moore her whole damn life?

"I'm so excited right now, I can't even. I mean, look - I'm shaking." She held up her hand to show her trembling fingers.

I sunk further into my chair and felt my face get hot. No one was ever so excited to see me, and Blossom Brixley of all people... it was a dream. I was dreaming.

Then a thought occurred to me, one that should have occurred to me a lot earlier. Why was Blossom at that munch anyway? And why did she know about my writing? There wasn't any chance that she...

No, it was a prank. Ugh, this was so like her. Now what? She tells everyone in school about me? Her and her stupid sorority sisters laugh behind my back? The heat on my face became that of anger rather than that of embarrassment, and I balled my hands at my sides.

"This isn't funny," I told her sharply, but tears were forming in my eyes. I always cried when I got angry.

"Of course it's not funny, why would it be funny? I'm basically confessing a pretty personal thing about me to you, so I hope it's not funny..."

Blossom had a legendary pout - it was a leftover from her mousey middle school days of frumpiness and unhappiness. On her current-day self, it was cute as heck and usually meant people let her have her way. Today, she pouted because meeting her literary hero was already a pretty stressful thing and... and oh no.

"Oh no no, please don't cry! No no, I've got tissues in..." Her voice trailed off as she dug through her purse looking for the little pack of tissues. "...somewhere in here... I think? I think, I mean, I should..."

"I'm not crying," I said under my breath, reaching up and rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands. When I was done, my glasses fell in place on my nose and I looked up at Blossom again. She looked... worried. Either I was barking up the wrong tree, or she was a very good actress. The actress thing was more likely. She passed me a tissue from her purse all the same and I took it. I held it idly in my lap.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry I didn't mean to overwhelm you, or whatever; I was just super duper excited because I've been reading your stuff since last year, and I had no idea you were.. you know? You? I thought Mia Moore lived... well I dunno, but I didn't think I went to school with her. With you, I mean."

The fact they were in public was no deterrence to Blossom; she had a pride and confidence that was unshakable in almost all situations. But meeting Mia Moore? It was apparently her kryptonite.

"This is probably super duper weird and like... parasocial, for you, right? Sheesh, I'm sorry, I'm being a total dweeb."

"No, I..." Damnit, she seemed so genuine. But I'd been fooled by that act before. She was friends with my neighbor - Diana - until she found out Diana still slept with her old baby blanket. Everyone at school teased Diana for months. If this was real, the poetic irony was too coincidental for me.

Was all this too coincidental? Seeing her at that munch? Both of us taking the same train home? Her knowing I wrote stories online? And the content of those stories... it was a lot worse than a baby blanket. I was alight with anxiety. Adrenaline. A need to run.

Or what if she was telling the truth? What if someone actually liked what I wrote? What if this wasn't a sick joke? What if Blossom was opening up to me? How naive would I have to be to believe that? How monstrous would I have to be to believe otherwise? I felt like I was going to pass out...

"It's just... hard to believe," I admitted, telling the truth this time. "I mean, you're... you. I don't know why you would... I mean..."

"Oh, I know, I know. People think just because I'm this tall blonde girl who dresses nice that the idea of me reading is just so wild, but lemme tell you this much, little miss: I didn't get a four-oh in college so far by not being a reader. I read a lot of stuff, although a lot of what people say is good writing is just awful. Like why do people get so hung up on Tolkien? Or Frank Herbert? It's so... boring. It's like they're freshmen just writing for a word count, you know?"

Blossom definitely didn't expect to launch into a tangent on literature, but she was nervous.

"Uh... I guess so." I think it was more a differentiation of period norms, but sure. I could see where she was coming from. Though that wasn't really the point I was trying to make.

"I meant like... that you would read... uh... niche literature." Porn. I could just say porn. But that felt too direct. I still didn't trust her. Would I ever be able to trust her?

"I mean, a lot of it is really bad… if I read another story about 'Oh no, my Mom caught me and now yadda yadda yadda' I think I might lose enough brain cells that I won't need to bleach my hair anymore. And yes, I know that's a bad stereotype but I'm allowed to make it because I'm basic."

Blossom smiled, quite pleased with herself. If only she'd had a PSL in her hand.

"But your stories are so smart! And like, your writing is legit good. Not even, it's legit amazing."

"Uh... thank you..." How was I having this conversation with Blossom Brixley? What parallel dimension had I fallen into? Was a twelve-foot Amazon going to walk into our train car? And as with any dream, once I realized it was a dream, sometimes I didn't want to wake up. If this dream kept going like this, I didn't really want to wake up either.

"So... you've read... all of them?" Was I testing her? "Which one is your favorite?" And why! And what parts did she like! And who was her favorite character! Ugh, the neediness of a writer... or was it a praise kink? Same thing, in my line of work.

Oh! This was like one of those 'oh you like Star Wars? Name 9 movies then' tests! Blossom made it a point to know just a few choice pieces of obscure trivia because she liked to shut exclusionary boys down when they tried to gate-keep her friends, but this was the first time she'd actually been quizzed on something she was passionate about.

"I'm up to date! I think T is my favorite because I love that 'other side of the fall' stuff and authors don't really cover that much. But I think B is definitely the hottest. Like the stuff with Bala - is that how you pronounce it? Bala? That's how I've been saying it. But when her dreams start to change... wow..."

Blossom fanned herself with her hand and smiled, which only made her blush.

Well, she clearly knew what she was talking about. She could have read through all my stuff just to torture me, but she would have had to know about it before the munch. There was no way she read through four and a half stories before the train came. I felt my muscles start to relax, in a 'less anxious' kind of way, not a 'start of a story' kind of way.

"Yeah, I think T is a lot of people's favorite. It's very... wish fulfillment? I dunno."

I looked around the train car; the evening sun had fallen behind the horizon and the lights on the ceiling were working harder than before. There were a few other groups of people nearby, but half of them were nodding off in their chairs. One kid was playing a game on his Nintendo Switch and an old guy in the back looked at his laptop screen through half-moon eyeglasses. For all intents and purposes, Blossom and I were alone... if we kept our voices down.

"I think it's because it's like... okay, so at first it's this whole Stepford Wives thing, like a creepypasta or something, and then it's also got hints of a Dimension story in this whole 'normalized worldspace' thing."

Blossom even made air-quotes when she said that.

"At the start, Talita's still got this kind of resistance, but not really. And the idea of losing the ability to count or read? It's like that one post Daisy Fingers made when someone was like 'would you wanna be Bun?' and she's like 'sometimes, but then the idea of not actually being able to read or write or do basic things has a reality side that's actually pretty scary, so no'. That's basically how it is with T: it's wish fulfillment, but would I really want that?"

Blossom paused, put one finger to her perfectly glossed lips in thought, and then nodded.

"Yeah, probably," she laughed brightly.

"Huh..." Yeah, Blossom had a point. Would I want that, if it was offered to me? Probably not. I sat up a little and pulled one foot up onto the chair with me, getting comfortable.