A/N: Hello Fan Fiction World! This is my first foray into writing fan fiction, into writing in general really. I've been reading it, it being Twilight fan fiction, for the last 3 years or so and I LOVE it, so I though what the hell, let's try it.

This story has an M rating for foul language and dirty deeds.

Stephenie Meyer is the Queen of the Twilight world and I'm just having some harmless fun with her characters.

Thanks to LovinRob for pulling this story out of me when I said I couldn't do it and for fixing all of my boo-boo's. Thanks to DannysMom for telling me if I suck or not and for entertaining me with your awesome life experiences.

You ladies rock my socks!

Prologue – Think We Kissed but I Forgot

Last Friday Night
by Katy Perry

There's a stranger in my bed
There's a pounding my head
Glitter all over the room
Pink flamingos in the pool
I smell like a minibar
DJ's passed out in the yard
Barbie's on the barbeque

Last Friday night
We went streaking in the park
Skinny dipping in the dark
Then had a ménage a trois
Last Friday night
Yeah I think we broke the law
Always say we're gonna stop-op

Saturday, 9am

I'm dead. I have to be dead. There can be no other reason for me to feel this shitty. I must have sold my soul to the devil himself last night. It feels like Jasper took his Louisville Slugger to my skull, many times, and hard. I think I have those little seafood forks stuck into each one of my eyes. My mouth, oh god, my mouth tastes like a mixture of whipped cream and beer and kitty litter. I smack my lips together and try to swish some saliva around in an attempt to rid my mouth of the fields of cotton that have sprouted in there over night, to no avail.

My body feels like I've been whipped into submission by the most dominating dominatrix ever to dominate, not that I'd actually know what that feels like, but I have a pretty vivid imagination and I read fan fiction, don't judge, so I can imagine this is what that feels like. My muscles are achy and coiled tight and I'm afraid that if I move, well, if I move a muscle, they will snap and shoot off like a rubber band. I hate rubber bands, those things hurt like a son of a bitch when you get snapped with one. My left shoulder is covered with a bruise or some sort of rash or, rug burn?

I think I may have lost my right arm in some sort of death match last night as I can no longer feel the extremity. It's just a lump under my stomach now. I'm slightly freaked out about this, because how will I jack off now, never mind all the other shit I do with my right hand, like write and smoke and shift and swing a golf club. I've tried to rub one out with my left hand before and that shit just doesn't work, at all. Shit! I manage to pull the lump out from under my stomach and almost instantly regret it. It feels like its being electrocuted and I almost wish I left it as a useless lump, because that tingly, knife stabbing, electrocution feeling of bringing a sleeping limb back to life, is so not worth it. One plus though is that at least I'll be able to jack off still. I groan. I'm still not ready to open my eyes yet and I think those little forks are preventing me from doing so anyway, so I decide to take stock of myself blindly.

I'm alive, barely. I'm fairly certain that I'm in my own bed. The mattress feels familiar and I can smell my lavender dryer sheets on the pillow that I am currently face down on. How did I get home though? I try to remember what happened last night. My brain has turned into the consistency of a Jamba Juice smoothie because of the multiple swings of the Slugger that I'm convinced I took at some point within the last 24 hours, so trying to recollect anything is difficult and it hurts, badly.

So, I got off work, check. I came home, shit, shaved and bathed, check. Jasper and Emmett met me here, check. Wait, I have a faint recollection of Emmett dancing in my living room in his underwear. I try to shake that thought out of my brain and, HOLY SHIT, head shaking and smoothie brains don't blend well. I want my mommy! We went out to dinner, check. We went to the club in Chandler, check. This is where things start to get fuzzy.

Was Alice there? I can remember someone who looked a lot like her all over my brother. I remember blonde hair and big tits and Emmett all up on that shit like a fat kid in a candy store. I remember mahogany hair and sun kissed perfection and I was like the moth to her flame. There was some drinking, and some more drinking, and drinking some more. I remember dancing and grinding and grinding and dancing and... Well shit, where did the rest of my night go.

I rolled over onto my back and stretched my arms out, both of them, since the dead lump is now back in business, mostly anyway, I still don't have a lot of control over its actions and it was really fucking heavy. I managed to pull it over my body but it flew, out of control, the rest of the way out and away from my body, fast and heavy, and ended up smashing into a face, a face too smooth to be Emmett's. And there is hair, a lot of hair, too much to be Jasper's unruly mop. Now, I don't make a habit of touching my brother's hair or my best friends face, these are just general observations.

The smash to the side of the face caused my mystery sleeping companion to roll over and snuggle into my neck. Then there is a naked leg slung over my waist. Then I realize that I am naked as well. What the fuck? All of this had occurred and I still haven't even opened my fucking eyes yet! I crack one eye open and immediately realize that I didn't shut my blinds last night as the sun streaming in the window makes it feel like someone is trying to gouge my eyes out with a grapefruit spoon. I turn my face away from the window and into mystery woman's hair. She smells heavenly, like sex and sin, caramel chocolate and whipped cream. What the fuck did we do with whipped cream last night? I gag just a little and my stomach churns. I fucking hate whipped cream, unless it's in the form of a bikini.

"Mmmmm," mystery girl moans and there is now an arm on my chest and warm little fingers playing with the little bit of chest hair that I proudly possess. Instinctively, I bring my arm around her and draw her closer to me. My dick is obviously not suffering the consequences of this hangover and is happily hard and ready for another go round with this girl. There is a small kiss on my neck and I swear she licks me too. She giggles and starts to sing in a sleepy, raspy voice;

"Last Friday night
Yeah we danced on table tops
and we took too many shots
Think we kissed but I forgot."

"You smell like a mini bar, Edwardo."

"Ditto, Honey Bee."

Lightning strikes. Suddenly the rest of the night comes back into focus, like someone flipped on a light, illuminating all the dark scary corners and some of them are scary as fuck. The images flicker through my mind like I'm looking into one of those View-Master's I played with as a kid. Whipped cream flavored vodka, flick and spin; Justin Bieber, flick and spin; skinny dipping, flick and spin; and Birthday Sex, flick and spin!

Holy fucking shit!

A/N: Indeed!

Well, I did it! Eeeeeee! I'm going to go chew all my finger nails off now while I wait to see if anyone will actually read this silliness.

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think.