Master PC: Ash and Chris

By CuyahogaKingKong

Part One: Birthday Girl (AM)

Ash woke slowly.  Luxuriously.  She was comfortable.  Ash liked being comfortable, but she wasn’t used to it yet.  She kept her eyes closed and sighed.  This felt good.  Things were good.  That was still new for her.

As she woke up, that awareness of happiness triggered something inside Ash.  Panic.  Her memories are impossible.  A long-lost lover who she betrayed suddenly appeared back in her life.  Chris was taller and stronger and sexier than ever.  He was rich and successful.  He still loved her and wanted her to come live with him forever.  Oh, and he had a magical app on his phone that let him fix all her flaws and banish the voices and visions that tormented her every day.  That was why she’d been so happy.  Obviously it was a delusion.  Ash shut her eyes more tightly.  If she opened them and saw her old bedroom…

“Silk sheets,” Ash whispered.  She took a deep breath.  Focus on what you can touch and smell, she reminded herself.  Since she couldn’t always trust her eyes and ears, that was a way to ground herself.  “A little of that lavender fabric softener.  My own pussy.” Ash smirked a little.  She wasn’t a squirter, but she definitely tended toward wet orgasms.  She relaxed.  “Mmm.  It’s nice and sore.”  That was Ash’s idea.  Chris would have taken away every little ache and pain if he had his way.  She found just a little bit of discomfort the next morning to be a great reminder of what she’d been up to the night before.  She reached out to his usual spot on the gigantic, ridiculous bed.  No warm reassuring sleeping man.  There was a rumpled spot in the sheets, which were a little sweaty.  He’d really been there. “Sweat.  Chris.”  She was really here.  The too good to be true reservoir burst the dam and washed her away again.

‘Happily ever after’ was only a few weeks old at this point.  Ash wasn’t sick anymore, but she had been since she was a teenager.  The memories, the habits of thought, they were still there, and sometimes she slipped into them. So Ash sometimes had these momentary flashes of doubt. If she told Chris, they could probably figure out how to use the app to make them stop.  She hadn’t.  She didn’t want them to stop.  Because they always ended with the same elated rush when she realized the truth.  

She let her eyes open.  Chris’s bedroom- no, their bedroom, in their new home.  This was where she lived now, a fancy ass not-technically-a-penthouse-but-whatever apartment in Hub Tower, right smack in the heart of downtown Riverburn.  He was the wizard in the tower, and she was his long-lost love he saved with actual non-metaphorical magic.

Real life had turned out crazier than anything her mutinous brain could throw at her.  And she used to see a blue tiger that said encouraging things to her.  Pretty much every day.

She took a deep breath and savored the view of the Rust Belt metropolis (ok, maybe not a metropolis anymore, but a century ago, it was a boomtown) out of the glass balcony doors.  Early morning light, the city just starting to wake up, and off in the distance the lake.  All those people didn’t know magic was real, and it came in a phone app.  She smelled something she hadn’t noticed before, the faint whiff of bacon and coffee.  Smiling, Ash slid out of bed.  She scooped up his shirt from yesterday and slipped it on.  He was so much bigger than her now, her skinny waist and small breasts weren’t remotely discernable.  That let her long, beautiful legs steal the show, along with her cute firm little ass more than half exposed.  But of course, the real reason she put it on was that a girl wearing her man’s shirt from the day before is a reminder of the night before.  Every time he looked at her, “Hey, remember how much we fucked?  That was fun, right?”  

She paused to visualize herself for a second.  As she did her hair, a messy downed mohawk of her natural honey blond with bright red tips, shifted on its own.  Subtly, ever so slightly, it arranged itself until Ash considered it appealingly disheveled in a just been fucked way rather than laugh worthy bedhead.  Likewise, her makeup changed imperceptibly, smearing a little more here and a little less there.  Probably wasted effort, but she liked her appearance to remind him of his own virility, how much he satisfied her sexually, and how totally down she was to drool and gag on his cock until her eyes watered.  Chris probably hadn’t thought about it, or he’d have wondered why she wasn’t 100% put together all the time.  He’d specified that her hair (and later makeup) would always look exactly like she wanted.  She considered little ego-boosting efforts like this an expression of her gratitude.

“Subject will always be grateful to Chris.” That was another of Ash’s suggestions. She sauntered out of the bedroom on bare feet.  Someone who forgives you for breaking their heart AND whisks you away from a life of poverty AND makes you more beautiful than you’d ever been AND fixes the incurable mental afflictions that torment you every day, sabotaging every little thing you do, ruining every chance at happiness… someone like that has earned literally eternal gratitude.  As far as Ash was concerned the most valuable thing about her was her body, and the skill she’d developed at using it.  So she used that to express her gratitude.

Chris had always said she had a lot more to offer the world than that.  That she was smart, creative, insightful, brave, and just generally good.  Even when they first met, years ago, long before magic or money or stupid-hot magically enhanced bodies, Chris was special because he made her feel like that was maybe, just maybe, true.  If so, she’d use those qualities to show him how grateful she was too.  Until she figured out how to do that, her main plan was a two-pronged attack of “always be sexy” and “remind him you’re all his.”

“Subject will always be loyal to Chris.” That was her favorite, the one that let her really relax and enjoy all this.  Ash wasn’t trapped on her manic-depressive roller coaster anymore, and she didn’t have voices in her head pushing her into the worst, most painfully self-destructive decisions.  That was not at all the same as trusting herself not to ruin everything with some stupid act of betrayal.  She knew herself well enough to ask for a guardrail.  If you know something is absolutely impossible, it’s a lot easier to stop worrying about it.  And she had.

As she padded across the hardwood floor through the spacious and well furnished (but too cold and industrial for her tastes, they really needed to get some houseplants or something.  Maybe the right art would soften it up?) living room, Ash had absolutely no fear of ever doing anything to betray the man in the kitchen.  That was new and she loved the feeling.  She loved him more for giving it to her.

She found him concentrating on a frying pan.  He’d put his underwear on (Ash booed internally.  “Show me that ass!  Free that dick!”) and an apron, but she still got more than an eyeful.  She’d loved Chris when they were twenty, back when he was kind of heavy and shy.  She didn’t love him [i]more[/i] now that he’d given himself the gorgeous demi-god body of their mutual dreams.  It sure as hell didn’t hurt though. There was bacon sizzling enticingly in another pan, and the elaborate espresso machine was making promising noises.  Such a sweet domestic scene.  It warmed Ash’s heart and turned her on.  Also, it smelled really good, and that made her hungry.

They didn’t really need to eat anymore.  Or drink, or sleep.  But since those are fun things to do, especially together, Ash suggested that they should still get a little hungry, thirsty and tired.  Chris thought it was a great idea and changed them right away.  He always listened to her ideas; usually thought they were great.  When he didn’t, he’d talk about it, how things might go wrong or why he thought they’d be better another way, and if she didn’t agree right away, he’d listen to her.  He had literally all the power, and he treated her as an equal.  Even in the old days, when she was still sick and he knew all about that, he’d never once treated her any other way.

Chris would always appreciate and respect her.  That was what he came up with to match her loyalty and gratitude.  As far as she was concerned it was unnecessary, she had total faith in him to treat her that way without magic app commands.  In fact, Ash had been a bit worried about ‘respect.’  Thankfully, it turned out that Chris was the kind of guy who’d spend all night reaming a girl and still respect her in the morning.  He’d even make her breakfast.

Bacon sizzling was apparently enough to cover the sound of her bare footfalls.  Chris startled slightly when she wrapped her arms around him.  She got on her tiptoes to kiss his neck.

“Damn,” Chris said, “you’re up.”

“Wow, ok then,” Ash teased, “tonight I’ll fall into a tragic, irreversible coma.”  He laughed.

“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”  He turned and kissed her.  By their standards it was a little one, which meant it only left Ash a little breathless.

“Aw, that’s cute,” Ash said.  “But you’ve got to reign in the sweet stuff, man.  If you let me get used to it, you’ll be stuck doing it forever.  Like, actually, literally forever.”

“Not every day.  I don’t mind it for special occasions.”  Chris noticed her blank look with amusement.  “What, did you forget?”

“Forget what?” Ash asked.

“Wow.  Ok.  Ash today’s the seventh.”  Ash shrugged.  Chris contained his laughter.  “Of September.  You know?”

“So?  What’s- oh shit!”  Ash blushed and started laughing.

“You seriously forgot your own birthday?” Chris was incredulous.

“I’ve, you know, been distracted.  Days are kind of flying by!”  Ash was embarrassed, not humiliated.  It was ridiculous after all.  “Besides for the past few years I haven’t, um, haven’t really been celebrating it.”  That was a bit of a downer.  The truth was until a few weeks ago she hadn’t thought of her life as being anything to celebrate.

As if he could read her mind (which as far as Ash knew he couldn’t, but it was a possibility), Chris’s smile faltered a bit.  He squeezed her into a hug and carried on lightly, “Well that’s all over.  Your birthday’s a big deal from now on.  Give me a few years, you’ll see.  Parties, parades, fireworks, a three-day weekend, Ash’s birthday sale at Mattress Czar.” Ash was laughing.

“Oh?  Have you got big plans today?” she asked.

“Well, I’m starting with breakfast, and I’ve got something great planned for tonight.”  Ash’s eyes lit up and she bit her bottom lip.  “In between is all you, Ash’s choice.  Whatever would feel special to you.”

“Hmm.  I’ll have to think.  Meanwhile, pay attention to what you’re doing.  Don’t ruin my omelet.”

“Ugh, you don’t even know.  I swear I have never gotten one to fold right.”

“Really?  It’s not that hard.  Even I can do it.”

“I psych myself out,” Chris said.  “It’s like when one day a baseball player suddenly can’t throw to first without missing the bag by a mile.”

“Oooh.  And now you’re doing it for your woman, while she watches!  The pressure is on.” Ash squeezed in close to his side, watching the pan.  “If he fails at something so simple right in front of her,” she said in her best ‘golf announcer’ voice, “it’ll be incredibly emasculating.”

“That’s not helping.”

“Will he have to serve her a botched omelet on her birthday?  You have to wonder if she’ll ever look at him the same.  That’s the kind of blow a relationship might never recover from.  Oh, oh, and here it comes!”

Two thirds of a Denver omelet folded beautifully.  The other third lost all cohesion and splattered messily.  “Oh, now that is a disappointment.” Ash mocked.

“Thank you.  That’s very supportive.”

“It’s your own fault.  You could just use the app and make yourself a world-class omelet chef!”

“Well, yeah, I [i]could[/i].  But where’s the satisfaction in that?”  Ash looked at him skeptically.  “Someday, I am finally going to make the perfect omelet.  It’ll be beautiful.  But if I just used the app, I mean, where’s the satisfaction in that?”  It was the sort of earnest, sincere thing Ash loved about Chris from the start.  As much as she liked to tease him about that kind of stuff, it turned her on a little.  That and the nicely muscled body she was snuggled up close to.

“Ok, if you feel that strongly about it,” Ash said faux-seriously, “it’s obviously my duty to assist.  So why don’t we say that one is yours, and you try again with my help.”

“Oh?  How’re you going to do that?”  Chris plated the disappointing eggs in question.

“What you need is a distraction.” Ash slipped in front of him.  She drew her hand lightly over his crotch.  “Why don’t you try again,” she slipped her fingers under the waistband, “while I keep you from overthinking?” Ash dropped down to her knees and licked her lips.

Chris nearly burned the next one.  That was fine.  Ash preferred her eggs a bit crispy.

“Who remembers their ex’s birthday after eight years?” Ash teased Chris as he loaded the dishwasher.  Usually she made a point of helping with things like this.  Little chores made her feel she wasn’t Chris’ guest.  That this was her home too.  But he insisted on doing it today, so she just leaned against the wall watching him.  Ash just liked looking at him.  “Please tell me you weren’t all sad and obsessed this whole time.”

“Not the whole time.” Chris replied.  “I remembered it was September.  Your date of birth is part of your, I guess you’d call it profile?  What’s there when I look you up in the app.  So, you know, don’t give me too much credit.”

“I won’t.” Ash grinned.

“Don’t give me too little though.  I did make you breakfast.” Chris finished up.  Then he scooped Ash into a hug, crushing her against her bare chest.  Leaning down, he kissed the shaved side of her head.

“It was a nice breakfast.  I especially liked the pineapple protein shake.” Ash grinned up at him.  She chuckled at his blank expression.  “Your cum, Chris.  Remember?  I’m giving you too many blowjobs if you can forget me swallowing your cum in, like, an hour.”

“I was just confused.  What’s the pineapple about?”

“Huh?” It was Ash’s turn to be confused.  “Your cum is pineapple flavored now.  Like pineapples-and-cum, not a glass of pineapple juice, but still.  It’s nice. Did- did you not do that with the app?”

“Oh!  I guess kind of?”  Chris looked thoughtful.  “What I wrote was that you’d like the taste.  I figured that meant that your opinion of how cum tastes would change.  Instead, it’s that cum tastes like something you like.  Huh.  I probably should have guessed something like that though.”

Ash raised an eyebrow.  “Why’s that?”

Chris blushed a little.  “You kind of taste like strawberries.  Specifically, strawberry-rhubarb jam.”

Ash laughed.  “What even is ‘rhubarb?’ I thought that was a made-up curse word for old westerns.”

“I wouldn’t know it if I saw it.  But it’s delicious mixed with strawberry.  And pussy, it turns out.”  He picked her up by her underarms and sat her on the table.  Strong, Ash thought.  Granted, she was a skinny, lightweight girl, but it still turned her on when he easily manhandled her like that.  “So, birthday girl, what do you want for your present?”

“I thought of three things.” Her eyes lit up.  “All real easy app stuff.”

“Three presents? Hmm. I guess. You’re getting spoiled rotten, you know.” Chris teased her.

“First, I want to be taller,” Ash said firmly.

“Really?” Chris seemed surprised.  “I wouldn’t call you short or anything.”

“Well, I never thought I was.  I’m not quite tall, but never felt short either.  In fact, I remember this one boy I sorta liked a little.  He was just a little taller than me, which was great.  I could just put on some shoes with a couple inches of heel, and we’re eye to eye, you know?  And it was real easy for me to dart in there and steal a kiss when he wasn’t paying attention.” Ash winked at Chris.  “But then this guy, ugh! He went and used magic to get all sexy, and for some reason he also made himself like a foot taller!  Rude, right?  Kissing him is this whole chore now, I’ve got to get way up and my tiptoes and he still needs to bend down a bit.  Makes it so hard to force myself on him.” 

“Sounds just awful.” Chris said.

“Right?  And I get these pains in my neck from spending all day with my head way back,” she said in a dramatic tone, throwing her head back and taking on a doe-eyed, moonstruck expression “just staring into his eyes.” She relaxed and slouched casually.  “So it would really help me out to be taller.”

“Ok, ok, I get it.”  Chris raised his hands in surrender.  “How much taller?”

“Well, how much did you give yourself?”

“It actually was a foot.  You’ve got a good eye for these things.”

“Thank you.  I’ll put that on my hypothetical resume.  ‘Skilled at estimating magical growth.’  I think you should give me… eight inches.”  She grinned and licked her lip.  Her eyes sparkled.  “You can keep the rest for later.” She giggled.  “Seriously eight sounds right.  You can still be all sexy and manly and loom over me.  But if I wear cool sexy boots or really high heels, I can be right there in your face.”  A quick glance down at his boxer-briefs told her that Chris liked that idea.  Ash knew her audience.  Plus, she had killer legs and she loved to show off.

Chris went to their bedroom to retrieve the precious phone.  He tried to play it cool, so he didn’t quite dash, but he sure didn’t take his time either.  He was typing on it as he walked back.  She waited a few minutes, idly swinging her legs.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

“Huh? No.  I’m working on it.”

“Just, you know, my birthday ends at midnight.  And there was other stuff I wanted to do today.”

“So impatient!  Don’t rush me.”

“What’s there to rush?  You just find where it has my height, add eight inches, hit enter, right?”

“Oh, no.  No, no, no.  We’re talking about you here.  You are a unique and priceless thing of beauty.  I’m tampering with a masterpiece, so I’m not leaving anything to chance or interpretation.  Must make sure all the proportions are maintained properly.  Look at the projections from every angle.  Also, I’m making sure your feet and calves and such won’t hurt if you want to strut around in skyscraper heels all day.  This is all for your benefit.”

“Right.  You get nothing out of it, I’m sure.”  Ash teased.  

“Aaaand, done.  Ok, here goes.  You might get a little dizzy or something.  I know I did.  Ready?”

“Yes!  Let’s go already.”

“Ok,” Chris made a big show of pressing send.  It was a little disorienting for a moment.  She was sitting still but the room looked like it was dropping down.  Closing her eyes for a few seconds and taking a deep breath seemed to be enough to reset.  She could feel that the shirt she wore wasn’t hiding near as much as it was before.  That excited her, but not as much as the display of power.  Power was sexy.

Chris hadn’t made her perpetually horny.  Not exactly, at least.  What he’d done was tamp down the extremes of mood, energy and libido that had ruined so many things in her life.  Including, in fact, her first relationship with Chris.  He’d set her default, her baseline, for those things to be a bit higher than average.  Things could turn her off or bum her out, and Chris had repeatedly proven that he could, in fact, exhaust her sexually.  She was just easier to turn on than the average girl.  And now she lived with a gorgeous, devoted, powerful man.  So while she wasn’t constantly down to fuck, she was usually open to it.

At that moment she was very conscious of the air on her increasingly wet pussy.  She was very aware that all she needed to do was spread her legs a bit and give him a bit of a ‘come-hither’ stare.  He’d happily fuck her on this kitchen table until it broke.  And it seemed very sturdy.

There was no really pressing reason not to.  She’d just rather wait until she’d asked for her other two presents.  Those were sexy too.  Ash could get them both really wound up.  That sounded fun.  

She hadn’t been very good at impulse control until Chris came and rescued her.  Ash had it now though.  Delayed gratification was an option.  She brought her legs together as she slipped off the edge of the table.

“Careful,” Chris said, stepping close so he could catch her.  Ash only felt a bit wobbly.  She didn’t fall into his arms but darted her head forward to catch him in a surprise kiss.  Both melted into it for a few moments.  When they broke, she nuzzled at his neck.  Ash was quite comfortable.  Though her knees were a bit weak.

“See, much better.” She told him.  He stroked her hair.  “I do like you being the big strong man though.  Looking up at you a bit all the time, and all that.  Just not so much that you have to look down at me, you know?  We can be eye to eye.”

“I think I get it, yeah.”

“Literally.  I’m not being all metaphorical.  You don’t ‘look down on me.’  You could, but you don’t.  Never did.  Honestly that’s kind of weird.  But, you know, good weird.”  She hugged him tight, savoring the intimacy and slightly reevaluating her decision not to fuck him right there.

“I’m sorry it’s been so bad for you Ash.  The way you talk about me sometimes… it’s like just not being shitty to you makes you see me as a saint.”

“Well, I don’t think you get how fucking strange you are.  Your ‘not shitty’ is better than most people even try to be.  Hey, I bet you were a pretty crappy corporate executive type.  Being an asshole is a job requirement there, right?  ‘Fuck people, gotta get that money.’”

“That’s not, well it’s not entirely right.  Like the place where I worked wasn’t evil or anything.  We didn’t go around bulldozing orphanages to build mansions.  But yeah, I never really had the killer instinct, probably wouldn’t have gone much higher.”

“Well, stay that way.  We need someone killed, I’ll do it and you close your eyes.” She pulled away from him slightly.  Ash smiled and said in a lighter tone, “You ready to give me my next present?”

“Wow.  So spoiled.  You never even said thank you, you know.”

“I did- er, well it was strongly implied by all that other nice stuff.  And yes, thank you very much,” Ash said prettily.  “So, can I have my second present now?”

“I never promised you all three.  But let’s hear it.”

“I’ve got to get some stuff.  C’mon.”  Ash half-spun out of the hug to instead be pulling Chris’ unresisting weight toward the living room.  Walking was kind of odd with longer strides.  It might take her a little while to get back to the swaying gait she’d cultivated for Chris’ benefit.  “You go wait on the couch, I’ll be right back.”  She had one baby-calf like wobble on the way to the bedroom.  It was fine, she was pretty sure he didn’t see.

Ash hadn’t brought much with her from her old life.  Mostly some of her clothes, a battered patched backpack, and a half dozen sketchbooks.  Those were what she wanted now.  Ash hastily scooped them off the bookshelf in a heap, then padded carefully back to Chris.

“What are those for?” he asked as she approached.  It was a big couch with plenty of room for both.  Ash planted herself in his lap anyway.  She was very aware of the approving twitches her ass felt from his crotch.  She reluctantly pushed them to the back of her mind, saving them for later.  She dumped her sketchbooks onto the couch beside him.

“I am so glad you asked,” Ash began.  “For my present, I want a tattoo.  Specifically, I want you to let me instantly give myself one and fix it up just right until I say it’s done.  No mess, no money, no mistakes!  But do make it hurt.  Really, the pain is part of the experience, it’s not the same without it.”

“Sounds great.  The tattoo part, not the pain part.  So did you forget which one you drew it in?”  He nodded at the pile of books.

“Nope.  You are picking it out.  Take anything in any of these, and I’ll make it work.  I’ll fuss with it if I have to, but it’ll be what you want to see on my body.” She undid the bottom few buttons of the shirt she wore.  Leaning back slightly, her pussy came into clear view, glistening slightly.  She rubbed a spot on her stomach about a hand’s width above it.  “It’ll go right here.  I’ve wanted a womb tat for a while.  I think they’re sexy.  But I couldn’t decide what to put there.  After all, it’s such a special place.  Now I know.  It’s reserved for you.”  Ash’s voice was getting a bit huskier.  She wanted him to mark her.  He’d taken her body from the sad, declining ruin of a hot girl and made it into a version that was better than she’d ever had.  It’d be like an artist’s signature.  ‘A unique and priceless thing of beauty’ he’d called her.  A masterpiece.  

“Oh, I like that!  It’s so intimate.”  He put his hand over hers.  Ash leaned into him a bit more and closed her eyes.  She took a deep breath.  She loved how he smelled, though she couldn’t put a word on what he smelled like.  Other than “Chris” that is.  “I always liked your drawings.”

“I remember,” Ash said.  She snuggled in even closer.  “You were always ‘That’s so great!’ no matter what it was.  It’s sweet but you’re really easy to impress.”

“I’ve always envied people who have actual artistic talents.  Stickmen are the best I can do.  So, which of these is the most recent?”

“Why?”

“Practice makes perfect, right?  You’re probably a lot better now than you were then.”  Ash sat up and fished through the sketchbooks for the one he wanted.  “Show me what you were working on yesterday.  You seemed real into it.”

“Ok, well, I’m not super happy with it yet,” Ash said.  “And I know it’s not exactly subtle.  Whatever.  It felt like it could be, um, well it could be something.”  She flipped through to the page in question.  She leaned back into Chris’ chest and held the sketchbook open for him. 

Chris didn’t say anything.  He just looked at it.  For what felt like a long time.  Ash squirmed uncomfortably.  Emotionally uncomfortable, that is.  Physically she was more than comfortable, and she took a great deal of pride in Chris’ dick’s response to her squirming.  She glanced at him, finding his face uncharacteristically hard to read.  “I really wasn’t thinking, you know, tattoo, on this.  So it might be-“

He cut her off.  “It’s perfect.  I think this is the one.”  His voice was soft and serious. It wasn’t his usual enthusiastic support.  It felt almost reverential.  Ash was touched.

“Yeah?  It’s the first one you’ve looked at.  You, um, you’re sure you don’t want to see the others?  Shop around a bit?”  Ash meant to be glib or snarky or teasing.  Instead, she whispered, almost in awe.  Something she drew in her dumb little sketchbook made such a big impression on him.

“Let me ask you something.  In case I’m just not getting the right message from it.  Interpreting art isn’t necessarily my strong suit.”  He put his arm around her.  “Is this about how you feel now?  About how things are since I used the app on you?”

“Well, yeah.  I’m not exactly being subtle about it.”  Ash rolled her eyes in mock derision.  

“Then yes, definitely.” Chris said firmly.  “It’s absolutely the one.  I want to see this all the time.  I want you to be reminded of it every time you look in the mirror.”

“Oh, shit!” Ash suddenly said.  “I knew I forgot something.”

“What?”

“A mirror,” Ash sighed.  “I really need one.  It’ll be so much easier that way.  I should have grabbed a little one from the bathroom.  You know, before I settled into my favorite seat and got all comfy.”

“Well,” Chris stood up quickly while sliding her into a bridal carry.  Ash squeaked with surprise, then giggled.  “There’s a nice big one in the bedroom.” 

If Chris thought scooping her up and taking her to the bedroom would lead to sex, Ash disappointed him for once. He was sprawled out on his stupid-big Alaska King bed, with Ash having expressly forbidden him to even look at her until she was done. It wasn’t that she wasn’t down to fuck.  She just took this art project very seriously.  With it going on her skin and all.

She stared at the big dressing mirror, concentrating hard.  What they had come up with was that her ‘draft’ version of the tattoo would appear in the mirror, then appear on her when she said she was done.  Her sketch had been made with an ordinary #2 pencil. Obviously, if she was going to have it on her body permanently that wouldn’t cut it. Using the app meant she wasn’t limited by her tools or even her skills.  That was fun.  She could make some changes.  This was going to be full color, with extremely fine lines.  There were probably real tattooists who could do the details and shading this well.  But they were the kind that had a celebrity client list and maybe a reality show.  Being able to have a project come out exactly as she saw it in her head was a real power trip.

This must be how it feels for Chris,Ash realized.  She imagined what it must have been like for him to pull her up in his phone and sculpt her like this.  Considering how good tattoo stuff felt for her, she would have loved to play with that power.  Which probably meant it was a good thing only Chris could use it.  I’d make some beautiful, weird looking people.  Like, catgirls would be just the start.  Horns, wings, tails.  Vibrant skin colors in fractal patterns. Ash loved Chris, but he lacked imagination in some ways.  He did have good taste though.  In a kind of basic way.  At least, Ash cared what he thought.  

“Ok, come look,” she said.  She thought she had a final version.  Ash was nervous.  She hoped he’d like it.  Which was a dumb thing to be nervous about, he’d picked the design and Chris pretty much always liked her work.   Still there were butterflies in her stomach.  His boyish handsome face appeared behind her in the mirror.  One strong arm wrapped around her, just below her breasts.  She leaned back slightly, pressing into him.  Mmmm.  Ash’s eyes half closed for a second, before she forced herself to pay attention.

“Wow,” Chris said appreciatively.  Ash smiled.  “That’s… I mean it was one thing in black and white, but Ash.  It’s amazing.”

“Yeah?  You don’t think it’s too much?  None of the others are this colorful.”

“Well, maybe they should be?  I like them but this is a whole new level.”

“Hope so.  I mean, you know how I dress.  Like the ol’ bare midriff.  So this one’s going to show pretty much all the time.  Well, nine months of the year or so.  Not gonna be strutting around in a belly shirt in the snow.  I wasn’t that crazy, even before.”  Ash was babbling nervously.  The look she saw in Chris’ reflection was her favorite one yet.  There was still the usual mix of love, concern, and open lust (she’d ditched the shirt before going to work on the tat).  But there was a different sort of admiration and pride mixed in there as well.  Yeah, that’s right, Ash thought at him.  When I meet your friends, and they’re all ‘Damn, she’s hot,’ you can say, ‘Yeah, and that sexy tat?  I got it for her, and she drew the design herself.’  You can be all smug, because your awesome new girl is more than just hot.  And you knew before anyone else.  “Um,” she said aloud, “I had to tweak the design a bit.  Center it up, make it a bit more symmetrical.”

“It’s perfect,” Chris said.  “No notes from me.  Are you finished with it?”  Ash nodded.  “You still want to do it this way?  It doesn’t have to hurt.”

“Yes it does,” Ash said.  “Getting anything worth having hurts.”  She swallowed and looked her reflection in her deep brown eyes.  “I’m done.”  Then the pain started.

Chris had fought her on this part.  As the stinging and burning started, part of Ash regretted being quite so persuasive and committed to it.  She still felt she needed the pain.  That was part of the art; how you earned it.  Something like this would take hours in the chair, probably multiple times.  Doing it with magic was already kind of cheating.  There was a reason her other tattoos were mostly just black lines, without infilled colored areas.  Except for the lips on her ass, of course, but that one simply wouldn’t work without the red.  

As the outlines appeared, the pain was already enough to make her knees weak.  Too late she realized the obvious; nobody gets tattoos standing up.  She really should have stretched out comfortably on the bed before she said the magic words.  Fortunately, there was a big, strong, sexy man who already had an arm around her.  Chris might have thought ahead or maybe he just had good reflexes, but he easily caught her before she fell.  He carried her and laid her down on where she already should have been.  

Ash relaxed as much as she could, taking deep breaths and closing her eyes. More lines appeared, and her creation started to take its proper shape.   Blindly she reached out, finding Chris’s hand.  She clutched it hard.   Ash pictured them in a real tattoo parlor, some vaguely visualized artist hunched over her working, Chris beside her.  Holding her hand.  Softly encouraging her.  For the hours it would take.  The pain kept going.

It made her wet.

Her old, sick, destructive, self-harming impulses were gone forever thanks to Chris and the MasterPC app.  She’d be forever grateful for that.  But for whatever reason, they didn’t entirely take the link between pleasure and pain with them when they left.  Not all types of pain, and there were definite limits.  The sort of pain she enjoyed was more in the area of a spank on the ass, pinch and twist of the nipples, strong pulling of her hair kind of pain.  She knew she'd get off, in the heat of the moment, from a hard slap in the face, not that Chris would ever do that in ten thousand years.  Quick, sudden pain, with the rush that comes after as it goes away.  Ash was genuinely surprised that this prolonged stinging and burning did anything for her.  Maybe because it was so intimate?

Whatever.  She pulled Chris’s hand down to her crotch so he could feel.  He laughed.  “Really?” he asked.  Ash nodded eagerly.  She laughed too, despite the continuing pain.  It was fucked up.  Super weird.  She was a total perv.  Ash wasn’t ashamed of that these days.  And Chris?  Ash knew Chris liked that about her.  

“I guess it is your birthday,” he said.  A finger slid into her easily, while more fingers slowly, gently stroked and caressed her.  Chris knew just how to touch her, exactly how close to get to her clit to tease her.  It didn’t come close to overtaking the pain.  Her design called for a lot of work.  And she had stubbornly insisted that it not all just appear at once.  But she let Chris ‘win’ on the point of making it faster and easier than any real tattooist could work.  The many small touches that would give it the proper level of detail were coming in unnaturally fast.

“Is that what you wanted?” Chris asked.  Ash shook her head.  

“More,” she moaned through gritted teeth, drenched in pain and pleasure.  On the next backstroke the probing finger came all the way out.  With only a slight break in its former rhythm, it slid back in with a partner.  She was so much tighter now than she had been, two fingers were enough to stretch her deliciously.  The loving strokes of the other hand grew firmer and came close enough to just barely graze her clit.

The pleasure gained on the pain.  Sometimes the pleasure was only an undercurrent in the pain, sometimes it drowned it out.  The linework was done, and now came the carefully chosen patterns and shades of color.  A real tattooist would probably be frustrated at having to switch between so many.  They’d charge Chris a fortune for their trouble.  And it’d be worth every penny if he could deliver on her vision, the way Chris could with magic.

He briefly stopped kissing her.  “Is that what you wanted?”

It was.  But Ash was greedy.  “More!” she groaned.  

“Thought you’d say that,” Chris whispered.  Ash felt him pull away from her.  The fingers withdrew.  Ash whined desperately.  Don’t go, don’t leave me some panicky part of her screamed.  He wasn’t there to help, and the pain chased away the pleasure.  But the more lucid part of her saw his next move with her eyes closed.  She could feel him crawl down the bed.  Feel him come back up, right between her legs.  She spread wider, anticipating him sliding into her, fucking her, stretching her from the inside while the mark he chose was etched onto her outside.

Ash didn’t anticipate a light kiss on her clit.  She bucked up to meet him, and he grasped her firmly by the hips.  Only then did Ash realize she’d been forcing herself to hold still for the non-existent artist.  She laughed, and squealed with pleasure as Chris’s knowing, familiar tongue went to work.  Chris’s hands gently forced her ass back down to the mattress.  He reigned in her hips, confining them to a frisky vaguely circular wiggle instead of wild thrashing.  

Her mind dissolved into a chaotic, sloshing, overstimulated mess.  Something in the churning briefly brought one fact to the surface.  Chris had changed her.  The more aroused she became, the more sensitive she became to pleasure.  Everyone had that in them to some degree, but he’d supercharged it into a lovely, brain melting feedback loop.  She held onto that thought just long enough for gratitude.  Ash was always grateful to Chris.

She let go of that idea.  It sank to the back of her mind, where it would never be far away.  Another one grabbed her attention.  She wanted to cum when the tattoo finished.

Once she had the idea it was all she could think about.  It would just be so perfect.  She lifted her head a little, and opened her eyes as much as she could.  Under her heavy eyelids, she could see the tattoo.  It was closer to being finished than it had felt.  And she could see Chris, watching the process unfold while he licked and teased.  Could she hold out, even for the little while she had left?

He’d offered to give her total control of her orgasms, like he gave himself.  Ash had decided against it.  She’d probably give herself too many and too big.  Ash liked being made to cum, to have a partner coax it out of her.  Or force it on her.  Chris was good at both, so why mess with a good thing?  Part of her regretted that now.  Part of her thought this was exactly the kind of situation where she didn’t want any guarantee.

She bit her lip and concentrated.  Dimly she noticed the room got a lot quieter.  She didn’t quite realize that was because she’d stopped moaning.  Her world contracted to her own body, then only the part between her navel and Chris’s mouth.  The top part moaned in pain; the lower part sang in joy.  Ash concentrated.  She was going to cum.  Chris was going to make her.  She wanted to control when.  

She wanted to control herself.

Chris was making it very hard.  That was good.  It wouldn’t count if he wasn’t trying his hardest. She couldn’t even let him know what she was trying to do; Chris would let her get her way. That wouldn’t be so bad, winning that way.  It wouldn’t be so bad to lose this way.  There was nothing wrong with being carried away.  But if she could control herself in a moment like this, that would mean everything.  It would prove she wasn’t a slave to her impulses, that no broken chemistry inside her was pulling her strings.  She could be in charge of herself.

Ash was sweating and struggling and trembling.  It wasn’t looking good.  Which was fine, she’d have other chances.  She could keep working on herself and try again.  Chris would push her this far again.  Better luck next time.  She smiled.  She was almost ready to let go.

The last little sparks of dark red sparks filled in, tracing a line from her core out to her hips.  Then the pain stopped, and the best part hit.  What Ash really liked about pain was when it stopped.  When pain passed, and she was still there, relief and endorphins flooding her.  The relief and release was what she craved.  That moment hit her, and Chris lavished her clit with attention.  Ash won, and smiled, and took her prize.  

She screamed in triumph, relief, and sheer primal joy.  She’d probably never be able to explain to Chris what it meant.  The last coherent thought she had for a while was that maybe she could draw it someday.

Next thing Ash remembered, she was sitting upright.  Chris must have propped her up against the headboard.  Which was quite a feat, considering she didn’t feel like she had any bones.  He was offering her a glass of water.  She took it gratefully.  Ash was always grateful to Chris.  She couldn’t actually get dehydrated anymore, but that didn’t make the water any less welcome.

“Thanks,” she said after a hearty gulp.  “And thank you for my present.”  She was coming back down to reality.  That only made her happier.

Chris laughed.  “You’re welcome again.  You’re awfully polite all the sudden.”

“What?  Am not!” Ash said, vaguely offended.

“You’ve thanked me for it three times in the last ten minutes.  Told me you love me twice.  Said four or five versions of ‘it’s so pretty.’  Kept saying ‘I made it.’  You were really out of it.  I thought I’d seen you cum hard, but I never got you all stoned and babbling before.”

“I was talking?  I thought I’d passed out.”  Ash was getting a grip.

“I think most of you did.  I’m guessing this was a pain thing?”  Chris had never really seen the appeal.  Didn’t at all relate to the rush she got from it.  He was happy to play a little rough with her if she wanted it though.  As far as Ash had been able to figure out, if Chris had a “fetish” it was getting girls off.  It made him feel like a big, virile, powerful man.  That was a kink Ash was happy to accommodate.

“It was.  I honestly didn’t expect it to be though,” Ash clarified.  “I mean, yeah, getting my other ones turned me on.  But that was different.  There was, um…” Ash had been feeling steadily smarter ever since Chris cured her.  According to the app, her IQ had shot up, from 84 to 114 over less than a month.  Chris swore he hadn’t changed it, that it was just her recovering from the “disorganized thinking” (as doctors had called it) that came with her sickness.  That didn’t mean she was suddenly able to put feelings of that magnitude into words.  

She tried to put it in a look instead.  Maybe he’d be able to see it in her face.  The joy, the accomplishment, the honest, sincere pride.  And how much she loved him for helping her feel it.  How grateful she was to have him with her.

She took his hand and tugged him closer to her.  “Thank you.  I love you.  And I really do think it’s pretty.”  She laughed and looked down at herself.

About an inch above her clit there was a fire.  It blossomed out of a heap of grey ash and smoldering coal.   Red, orange and yellow tongues swirled, caught in a twisting updraft.  In the center was a woman, a being of white light with the merest blue nimbus between her and the flames.  They wrapped around her legs, but she shone through them, a feminine column of brighter, hotter light.  But as the flames rose, they hid her less and less.  Then halfway up her chest the woman broke through entirely, pushing through the flames, smoke blown away from her outstretched arms in vast wings. Sparks and embers flew outwards towards Ash’s hips.  Her body was beautiful and powerful, with a wave of shimmering blue, now quite bright and thick, radiating from it.  Ash was most proud of how, with only subtle changes of shade, she managed to achieve a sense of motion as she arched her back and threw her head back.  The details of her face were mostly lost in the white light, but her mouth was distinctly open wide in a triumphant, joyful scream.  

The phoenix imagery wasn’t exactly subtle, and not remotely original.  That didn’t make it any less perfect.  It was colorful, vibrant and alive.  She’d gone bigger than her initial idea, filling the space between her navel and groin rather than just doing a one- or two-inch design.  Anything smaller and the details wouldn’t show, and she loved having something big and bright and eye-catching right there.  

“I think it’s pretty too.”  Chris pulled her into an affectionate side-hug.  Ash leaned into it, but didn’t take her eyes off her new ink.  Until, that is, she caught a glimpse of Chris’s still-hard dick in her peripheral vision.  

“I didn’t get you off,” she said.

“You’re giving me too many blowjobs, I guess.  Remember the kitchen?  We’re even for the day.”  Chris teased, but Ash could hear the tension.  He was downplaying it out of some misguided effort not to be pushy.  For a pretty smart guy he could be really fucking stupid.  Ash turned and kissed him.

“Mmm-mm.  No.  Unacceptable,” Ash rolled over to straddle him.  “The only way my man has blue balls is if I’m wearing blue lipstick.”  He laughed, then gasped as she dragged her sodden pussy over his cock.  Ash moaned softly.  She was still tingly all over from the monster orgasm.  Her clit cried for mercy whenever it contacted his body.  Only a few minutes before, Ash was drowning in stimulation.  Now that she’d had a moment to breathe, she intended to go right back under.

“If you insist,” Chris said.  “It is your birthday.”  Ash shifted her hips, guiding him into her with one hand.  As she slid down, inch by delicious inch, she let out a filthy, guttural groan.  He stretched her just enough, filling her up, head rubbing her g-spot as she descended.  When she finally reached bottom, she stopped to catch her breath, supporting herself with her arms on his pecs.

Ash had fucked Chris in pretty much every position she could think of in the past few weeks.  And given her history and dirty mind, that was saying a lot.  She loved all of them.  But her favorite was definitely cowgirl.  It put her in the driver's seat.  It put her on display.  It put her in control.  She started a very slow, languid grind.  It looked like she was barely moving, but it felt amazing, setting off little bursts of light behind her eyes.  If she wanted to, she could just sink into that feeling and stay there all day.  Ash didn’t let herself sink right then.  She had some things to talk about.

“So yeah,” she said unsteadily.  “About my third present.”  She bit her lip and closed her eyes briefly, letting the pleasure wash over her for a second.  “I’m not doing this so you’ll give it to me.”

“What?” Chris grunted.

“This isn’t, like, ‘fuck my man so he’ll give me stuff.’  I don’t do that anymore, you know?  Trade sex for things.”  Ash cringed a bit inwardly.  Why put the idea in his head?  But she needed to say it for her own sake.

“Oh, Ash,” Chris reached up and stroked her cheek.  “I know.”

“I’m doing this because I love you, and it feels good, so why not?  I won’t stop if you say no.  I’m not that girl anymore.”

“Hey, it was something you did.  Not who you are.”

“Just so long as that’s clear.  Now, do you want to know what I want?”  

“Always,” Chris said.

“Ok.  Well, it’s, you know.  ‘Subject will always love Chris.’”

“Ash, come on.  We talked about this.” Chris groaned.

“You said you’d think about it!”  Ash expected this reaction, but she was still disappointed enough to fall out of rhythm.  She quickly resumed the same pace.  Out of principle.  And a deep desire for delicious friction.

“It’s only been a few weeks.”

“What is there to think about?  We love each other.  Let’s just keep loving each other forever.”  She may have squeezed a bit tighter on him.  Not that she was trying to influence him with sex.  Just for emphasis.  Also she loved how it felt.  “I know what you said before, about it being cheating, ‘robbing the casino’ and all that.  But I don’t buy it.”

“What?” Chris looked confused, and as annoyed as a man in his position could be.  Which wasn’t much.  “I’m not lying to you.  It’s a big deal.  The biggest deal.  LOVE, you know?”

“That’s not all though, is it?” Ash slowed down.  She needed to keep her head straight for this part.  “It’s the ‘always’ part, isn’t it?  Are you, um…”  She trailed off.  It was a question she didn’t want to ask, but she needed it answered.

“Are you scared?  Do you think maybe you’ll get bored with me?”

“What?  Ash, that’s crazy!”  Chris looked guilty.  “Um, sorry.  Bad choice of words.”  He grabbed her hip with one strong hand, trying to stop her movements.  Ash saw his very familiar ‘are you ok?’ face, the one she loved but hated seeing.  “You’ve never been boring.”

Ash shook her head.  “I was sick.  You were my hero.  And you really like that.  Being my rock, my shoulder to cry on.  You love that.  And that’s great.  But I’m not sick anymore.  So maybe you’re scared.  But, you know, it’s not like I won’t need help.  And there’s lots of other girls out there who do need a White Knight.  You don’t need to choose between loving me and being their hero.  I’m not jealous, remember?”

“No.  No no no no no.  Fuck, I’m sorry Ash.  Stop for a second, ok?”  She stopped moving and he pulled her down into a fierce hug.  “I must have fucked up somewhere.  You’ve gotten the exact opposite idea.  Ok, sure, I like being your hero.  But I love you.  Not that.  And I hated it when you’d cry, on my shoulder or anywhere else.  Not that you shouldn’t come to me with that stuff.  I’m definitely not going to miss you being sick and me not being able to help, ok?  There’s a reason fixing that for you was so high on my to-do list.  You always being with me, always loving me, it sounds amazing.”

“So what’s the problem?”  Ash was as angry as a girl with the big dick of a man she adores deep inside her could be.  Which wasn’t all that much.  “You want it, I want it, you can make it happen.  What’s the problem, man?”

Chris sighed.  “It’s… ok, so you started getting sick when you were 15.  You basically went from being a kid to having this thing ruin your life.  You never got to be yourself, you know?  Figure out the real you, all that shit the rest of us did.  And, well, what if the real you is someone who’s not interested in being with me?  Maybe you don’t really need me there holding your hand. You should have the option.  I’m just trying to do right by you.”

Ash kissed him.  “That’s sweet.  I love you for that.  I mean it.”  Ash took his face in both hands, looking him straight in the eyes.  “But that’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Ash-“

“That’s not how it works.  I wasn’t possessed, or cursed, or bitten by a radioactive crazy person, Chris.  I never stopped being the real me.  I’m real right now, and I was real when I ran out on you.  I was real that first time you took me out for coffee, and I was real all three times I tried to end it all.  If you want to get all philosophical about it, wouldn’t the ‘real me’ be the one who didn’t get magically cured?  Or really, wouldn’t it be a version of me that never took any medication, or even try therapy?

There’s no one ‘real’ version of anyone.  Nobody is totally the same person at night that they were that morning.  It’s about trying to make that change what you want it to be.  I couldn’t do that before.  At least I couldn’t do it enough.  I wanted to though.  Now we can.  And I’m telling you, whatever else changes, I never want to stop loving you.  As long as I’ve got that, I think everything will be ok.  So please?”

Chris was quiet.  Ash could read the conflict and indecision on his face.  She was worried until he answered.

“Next year,” Chris said.

“What?”

“Ask me again your next birthday.  You make a lot of sense, and I want to say yes.  But let’s give it a year.  Just so I can be sure this isn’t some rebound thing.  I don’t want being with me to just be the replacement for being sick.  I want to be sure you can be your own person too.  So, let’s talk about it a year from now.  Deal?”

Ash smiled.  A year wasn’t that long really.  “Deal.  And yes, I promise I’ll be ok.  I’ll make some friends, get a hobby or something.  But you’ll need one too.  Something to keep you busy so you don’t worry about me so much.”  Chris relaxed and Ash started grinding on him again.

“I’ve been thinking about some projects, as it happens.  And hey, I mean what I said about this the first time.  If we’re doing the whole ‘love each other forever’ thing, you’re getting a ring and a white dress too.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Ash whispered into his ear.  She nibbled on it for a second, getting the noises she wanted out of him.  Then she pulled away.  She arched her back and picked up the pace.  Her perky little tits jiggled as she started bouncing on his cock.  Chris reached for them, but Ash caught his hands, holding them palm-to-palm, using them for balance.  “I like it when you hold my hand,” she told him.  They stared into each other’s eyes as she rode him.

[i]Look at me, Chris,[/i] Ash thought.  See how sexy I am.  See my beautiful new tat.  See that I’m not sick, I’m ok, I’m happy.  See how much you’ve done for me.  See me.  See that I love you.  It felt so good to be with him, to have him inside her, to be climbing up to another orgasm in this leisurely way.

“So what do you want to do today, birthday girl?” Chris asked her.

“This,” Ash said, squeezing him with her pussy to mark the point.

Chris made an appreciative noise.  “I insist on taking you out.  We need to get out more.  And I have a plan for tonight, we need to come home from somewhere.”  

“Fine, be that way.  I’ll only fuck you till noon.  Mmmm, where do I want to go?”  Her voice was breathier than normal.  “We could go down to the mall.  Hit the expensive shops.  Blow all your money on new clothes and jewelry.  Make them all suck up to the trashy slut they used to look down on.”

“That could be fun,” Chris answered.

“We could go the other way.  Hit up some sketchy sex shop.  Buy a bunch of clamps and plugs and vibes.  Go to some strip club, decide which stripper to pick up.”

“Sounds more like my birthday,” Chris responded.

“Yeah, but who wants to wait till February?” Ash grinned triumphantly.  “February 28th, am I right?”

“You teased me for remembering yours, when you remembered mine?”

“I had to think about it, but yeah, it came to me.” She remembered dinner with him and his family, at one of those places where they cook your food on the tabletop.  His mom told her that he was fifteen minutes from being a leap year baby.  That night was their first time doing anal.  “Without the magic app, so I win!” She stuck her tongue out.    Then he started meeting her hips with upward thrusts of his own, and she nearly bit it.  

“H-how about,” Ash struggled for a second to regain her focus.  “How about you hire a private plane to Paris?  Visit the Louvre.  Do whatever else people want to go to Paris for.”

“It’s funny you say that,” Chris half-growled.  “I have been thinking we should travel.  Do a whole world tour.  Do you have a passport?”

“I’ve never even been out of the state, Chris.  Never flown on a plane.  Never got to go anywhere.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Ash.”  Chris said.  She leaned down and kissed him deeply.

“We’re going to do all those things.  Some other day.  Today, we’re fucking till lunch.  Then I’m going to show you my favorite place.”