The midmorning sun was obscured by a blanket of clouds, but on a hot August day like this, that only made things worse. The air was sticky with the humidity, making sweating feel absolutely useless, just soaking my t-shirt until it stuck to me like a wet dishrag. The drone of the lawnmower filled the air, pounding on my ears. The smell of spent gasoline and cut grass was stuck in my nose.

I pushed the mower forward, its wheels wrestling with the thick, overgrown lawn. It looked like years since anyone had made any effort to care for this lawn.. Earlier, the blades had snagged on a half-rotted teddy bear, a silent ghost of some forgotten childhood. Other than that it was just a slow trodding forward, trying to push the mower against the knee-high grass. But mowing was just the first chore. The weed whacker would be next, and after that, the power washer would be my reward, a chance to blast the grime off the driveway and stoop.

“You look like you’re just about to pass out, hun. How about you come inside and cool off?” The old woman called out from the open sliding door that led to her kitchen. She wore a floral print house dress and khaki cardigan that were both probably older than me, her hair was white without a hint of gray, kept in a fuzzy curls almost like a fro, and her skin hung loose on her bones, but she was still standing straight and had a bright smile; she must appreciate the company, such as it is. “I just made a batch of instant lemonade.” 

I pulled out my phone to check the time. I’d been going at it for an hour and a half and still wasn’t even half done. I really didn’t want to make this a two-day project, but…

No point in turning her down if she’d already gone to the trouble. “Sure thing, that’d be great. But I can drink it out here. Wouldn’t want to get grass stains all over your floor.”

“You sure? I’ve got the AC running inside. And you can just take off your shoes if you’re that worried about it. It’s the least I can do, especially if you’re not going to let me at least pay you for your trouble.” 

“Well, when you put it that way.” The idea of just standing under an AC vent and letting it chill the sweat on the back of my neck sounded like heaven on earth. “And trust me, you’re already helping me out more than enough just letting me film here.”

I unlaced my boots and left them outside, stepping into the cool living room, shivering as the sweat froze against my skin. “Oh. That feels nice.”

There was a slight odor inside, old potpourri and candles. The furniture looked ancient, vibrant colors faded out. The most modern bits in the room were the flatscreen television in one corner, an original Wii console on the floor next to it, the balance board for its fitness game leaning against the wall. Everything else seemed like it was from the 80s at the earliest. Vases with artificial flowers, a jar full of colorful stones, and neatly organized bookshelves with a mix of hardcovers and paperbacks. No family photos, I idly noticed before moving on.

The living room was connected to the kitchen, and I joined the old lady at the small round table near the door. As soon as she handed over the glass, I took four long, grateful gulps of the lemonade. Sugar and yellow powder mixed into water, sure, but the glass was full of mostly ice and after the swamp-like conditions outside, it was just what I needed to be revitalized.

“I still don’t get that. The camera and all that. It’s for some kind of movie?” She asked, glancing at the tripod I’d left outside. 

“Not really a movie. Youtube. People post all kinds of things there, and one of the things people really like is relaxing videos of guys doing yard work. Seeing it transformed from the before and after. It’s satisfying.” No need to mention the philanthropic angle, drawing viewers in by selflessly helping out the least fortunate with some free service. Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened it up to my most popular video. 

“And enough people are watching that you don’t need to ask people to pay?” 

“Well, uh…” I took another, slower gulp of the lemonade. My most popular video of mine still hadn’t made it to ten thousand views, so I hadn’t even received a single check yet. “That’s the plan. Success doesn’t happen overnight.” 

I’d only started things up this spring, and it’d be weird if the channel blew up in just a few months. Just had to stick with it. 

“The lawn already looks so well done and neat, and I can hardly believe you want to do more. Do you have some kind of nature Class?”

“Class? No, no. The machines do all the work.” 

In this world, most everyone had a Class that manifested itself around the time of puberty. A druid could have taken care of this job in less than a minute, telling the plants to tidy themselves up and having them listen. A telekinetic could have chopped all the grass and levitated it away with their mind. And of course, it’d be easy for an Enhancer, since they were just like those without a Class but better.

“Well, I think what you’re doing is just wonderful, and doing it without the help of your Class just makes it all the more impressive. I really appreciate it, hun. I used to pay a neighbor boy to keep the yard tidy, but he grew up and moved away. Parents had three kids, all of them sent off to college, and then they left too, enjoying sunny Florida.”

“That’s…” Depressing. But I didn’t say that. “I mean, happy to help, ma’am. This youtube channel, it’s killing two birds with one stone that way.”

“You’re sweet. And believe me when I say, you’ve absolutely made my day, hun.”

She looked out wistfully through the glass sliding door at the back yard. She had wet eyes and a sad smile on her face that was making me feel like hugging her, telling her it’d be all right. Realistically, I wasn’t going to see this woman again after today, but it was nice to feel appreciated. Made me think that things would be just fine, even if the channel never took off.

…except that if this didn’t work out, I’d never hear the end of it back home. Twenty-eight years old and starting over again. From garage band singer to custom pottery maker to park ranger to aspiring youtuber. Nothing had really stuck so far. Being one of the less than 1% without a Class, it was hard not to think that there wasn’t any place for me in this world. But I had a good feeling about this one. 

I emptied the glass, started chewing on a piece of ice, prompting her to ask, “You want a refill, hun?”

I shook my head. “No thanks, ma’am. Feel like if I get any more comfortable, might just fall asleep. And it’ll be something to look forward to when I’m done.” 

“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in the living room watching television. Have you heard of the history channel? There’s this one show about aliens, and I think it’s just pure nonsense, but it does make you wonder.”

“Sure thing, ma’am. And I might have to check that one out.” 

As she left me alone, I carried the glasses to the sink then, summoning up all of my willpower, I left the indoor oasis and headed back outside, the wet air wrapping itself around me again instantly. With a sigh, I put back on my left boot, then the right—

“Crap!” 

I hollered out as a sharp sting pierced the middle of my foot, like someone had left a sharp tack in the boot. Worse, it was a dull, throbbing pain that seemed to be spreading to my whole foot. My whole leg. Wait, my leg? 

“I think—!” I raised my voice, trying to call back that old woman, but she was nowhere in sight, “A spider bit me?” 

My leg went cold and weak, losing all strength. It was all I could do to lay on the ground, rolling over onto my back. “Crap. Grass stains.” I groaned as the cold, freezing sensation was working its way up my body. “I liked these pants…” 

I felt something crawling up my side, and through bleary, I could see the spider that bit me. Only it was like no spider I’d ever seen. The size and shape of a golf ball on eight legs, a metal spike coming out the top. Metal spike…?

The spider was crawling up my chest, then I could feel its legs on my neck, my face. If I wasn’t so close to passing out, I’d bet I’d be having a panic attack. All eight legs were placed around my eye and the main body began to rotate, bringing that sharp spike to bear… and mercifully, that’s when I lost consciousness. 

I woke up still on the grass with a headache throbbing right behind my eyes. No, behind my left eye. Wait, not behind my left eye…

That spider had been right about to bite me. Stab me? Either way, it’d been covering my eye. I reached up and touched it through the eyelid, and felt a stab of pain, everything around the area tender and sensitive. 

“What the hell was that…?” I muttered under my breath. 

<Sorry about that. If it was me, I would have given you the offer straight up first, but my creators figured it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.>

I heard the voice of a young woman speaking right in my ear, but didn’t see anything. “Hello?”

<Hello hello! Nice to meet you. I’m your new artificially intelligent personal assistant. What would you like to call me?>

A blue screen appeared floating in front of my eyes, white text on the center listing three names (Pine, Holly, and Maple) along with ‘Custom’ at the bottom. 

“Uh… Holly is fine? Crap, I need to get to a hospital. Hearing voices in my head. Seeing things. The hell was the spider that bit me…” With a grunt, I sat back up and looked around. The sun was really beating down on me now, so I must have passed from mid-morning to early afternoon. 

<Not a spider, though understandable that you’d make that mistake. My chassis used a biomimetic form for improved locomotive efficiency. And while yes, you are hearing voices and seeing your new augmented reality interface, you can rest assured that it’s not because you’ve been poisoned, but because you’ve been upgraded!>

“Hospital. Need to get to a…” I put my hands on the grass to push myself to my feet, but felt something squishy on my palm. Yanking the hand back, I saw a white orb with a long pink tail resting on the ground. “Is that… hold on…” 

<Ah! Please do not panic, sir. The extraction process of your eye was handled with extreme care and the procedure was without incident. Within two to three days, any lingering soreness near your new and improved eye should fade.>

“Please shut up.” I kept looking at the eye. My eye. Was that really my eye? Had some tiny robot really yoinked it out of the socket and burrowed into its place? No way, right? I was a nobody. Either I was really messed up in the head, or…

“This isn’t about my mom, is it?” I asked the disembodied voice. 

<Not at all. In fact, if you could avoid contact with Mrs. Jones as much as possible going forward, that would be greatly appreciated.> 

So the voice knew my mother’s secret identity. That wasn’t good. And I just knew that even if I managed to get out of this situation, I would be the one taking the blame for it.

“So what is this, some kind of remote bomb? She does what you tell her or my head goes splat?” 

<No no no! No, I am not a bomb. The truth is, I come from the future. Our time machine could only manage to send back 36.4 grams of mass and a powerful neural processor like mine requires a biofield converter anyways, plus there was worry that you might not believe the claim of being from the future, because, well… yeah! It’s out there, right? But I assure you. The greatest minds in the world came together to send me here to meet you, fully aware that changing the past would wipe them from existence, because you are the only hope that this world has.>

“That’s nuts, and you’re lying.” I wondered if there were any tutorials on youtube about yanking out your own eyeball. Maybe I could use a sharp pair of tongs?

<Look! I am from the future! Let me prove it to you.>

Another floating screen appeared in front of me. A video thumbnail this time. 

AMAZING TRANSFORMATION! YOU WON’T BELIEVE IT! SUPER SATISFYING ASMR POWER WASHING FOUR HOURS

Big bold text, and there was me, giving my best smile and thumbs up down in the lower right corner. Posted on the 29th of August, 2024. Today was the 28th though. 

“Okay, like you couldn’t photoshop a thumbnail. Not sure what this is meant to—”

“WHAT’S UP BROS, it’s ya boi, Hiroshi Jones, coming at you today with another amazing outdoor transformation. Today I’m at a kind old lady’s house who couldn’t believe I’d be doing this for free, and YOU’RE not going to believe—”  

God that intro was so cringe. I wanted to just skip right past it… and like it was responding to my will, the video did just that, fast-forwarding through the footage of me going over the lawn with the lawnmower, then taking care of the weeds, and finishing up with the power washer on the red brick driveway. This lawn, these weeds, that driveway that was still so old and dirty I didn’t even know there was red brick underneath the soil. 

But I was genuinely watching footage from today. From the future. The future where a weird robot didn’t pull my eye out and make itself at home. It was impossible, but I couldn’t think of any other explanation.

<I just want to say, you are doing a remarkably admirable job staying calm and not freaking out.>

“Thanks. I’d throw up, but I skipped breakfast today.” Man. Even in the future, that video had gotten less than a thousand views. Ouch.

<Well, I understand it’s a lot to take in, but there is a big upside. Very big!>

“Yeah?” 

<Ahem. Mr. Jones… you do have a Class. In fact, there’s no such thing as someone without a Class. It’s only that the technology of your era was unable to recognize rare Classes like yours, and the abilities of these Classes won’t trigger in everyday life.>

Oh.

Well now. That was a real upside. In fact, it felt like the pieces were starting to fit together. A time traveling eye-robot needed me to save the world, and it was up to me because of some incredible hidden power that’d been inside of me all along. This was fate. This was destiny. This was my purpose in life!

“Okay, so how do I trigger this Class?”

<That’s the spirit! Okay, that feeble old woman inside, sleeping on the couch. Agnes Lovegood? I need you to go in there and, as hard as you can, punch her right in the head. Strike at her with lethal force.>

“Oh goddamnit.”

<Wait wait wait! You don’t need to punch her! If you’ve a firearm in your vehicle, we can use that! Or if you like, we can go look for a sharp knife in the kitchen to do the job.>

I took out my phone. Time to look for tutorials on yanking my eye out.

Turns out, the thumbnails for some of the results on ‘eyeball extraction tutorial’ could make me even more ill than seeing my own eyeball still lying on the freshly cut lawn. And Holly, the voice in my head, took the time to explain some more. 

According to her, I had a Tamer Class. The Tamer class was one of the more rare classes, showing up in about one in every ten thousand people. Like the name suggested, a Tamer could tame wild animals. Not only did that mean they could get animals to follow orders, but animals that had been tamed would be like the Enhanced, with better strength, stamina, and so on. 

<But! You’re not a Beast Tamer. You’re a Villain Tamer. So rather than controlling beasts, your Class revolves around taming the worst that society has to offer, reforming and rehabilitating them. Pretty amazing, right?> Holly said as she finished her explanation. 

“Okay. And what the hell does that have to do with murdering an old woman in cold blood?” 

<No, no, no.> I could almost see the voice wagging its finger at me. <You’ve got two things wrong there. First, Tamers have the basic Skill called, well… Tame. Any damage you inflict on them gets converted into domination energy. Once that’s greater than their resistance, they become tamed.>

<Second, that friendly old woman might have mellowed out with age, but she was married three times. Each time the husband died under suspicious circumstances. A deadly car crash, going off the road and down a mountain side on a rainy night.. Suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning in the garage. And six shots in the back just outside the home. These are cold cases right now, let alone in the future, but we’re 99.2% certain Mrs. Lovegood murdered at least one of her husbands.>

That didn’t sound good. “I drank her lemonade…”

<Oh, don’t worry. According to our psychological profile, the second and third killings weren’t out of passion but instead for the life insurance payouts. There’d be no incentive in her killing you, especially when it’d draw attention to her.>

“Good to know…” I finally got up off the ground, started brushing the loose blades of grass off of me the best I could. “So, on the remote .8% chance that she’s innocent, what then?”

<Not to worry! Outside of grocery shopping and the like, you’re the first person she’s talked to in more than three years. Even if she’s murdered, it’ll be more than a month before anyone comes to investigate, and since she has no family or friends, the case won’t be looked into. Though I would still suggest you not post the youtube footage you recorded here online.>

“That’s not the problem!” I gave myself a poke in the eye, immediately regretted it for all the pain that flared up in that socket, and I doubt they’d build a robot spider capable of feeling pain anyways. 

<Ohhh… the moral considerations. Not to worry! The woman is already eighty-seven years old. She’s scheduled for a long, painful death from dehydration in two years time after a nasty fall she will be too weak to get up from. Which, when you think about it, is poetic justice.>

“I don’t think you know what poetic justice means.” 

<Look. There’s a reason I was sent back to this time specifically. You’re not going to find a better chance to test out your power in all your life than now. Either it works, in which case you’ll be helping a lonely old woman pay back her debt to society. Or it doesn’t, in which case you’ll be saving her from dying alone. It’s win/win!>

“You definitely don’t know what win/win means.” 

<Be rational about this. If you want to test your power, you need to strike someone dastardly with lethal force. What else are you going to do? Wait on rooftops for random muggings to happen on alleyways down below? So man up, get in there, and… hey! Where are we going? No no no, you are throwing away a golden opportunity here! You are—

“I’m going to get my crowbar. It’s in the back of my truck.” I whispered out loud. At least she couldn’t read my mind, it seemed. 

<Oh. Excellent choice! Use a two-handed grip and an overhand strike. Maybe take a few practice swings outside before we get to it?>

“Please stop talking.” 

My stomach still felt queasy, the sweat on my body had gone cold, but god help me, I believed the robot. If I didn’t do this, I’d be letting the whole world down. It was destiny. Fate. 

At least, that’s what I wanted to tell myself. Deep down though, I knew the real reason. I just didn’t want to spend another day living at home being told by my mother and sister that I was ten years too late to grow up. Like they could understand what it was like to grow up missing what everyone else had. If she really could help me learn my Class, then I’m not sure what lines there were I wouldn’t cross.

I grabbed the crowbar/murder weapon out of the truck bed, glancing around the neighborhood to see if I was being watched. But then, it was just past one o’clock on a Tuesday, and judging from the lawns, the nearest house with a neighbor inside was two blocks down.the street. Didn’t exactly help with the nerves. 

I did end up doing the practice swings in the backyard. 

<Hold it the other way around. The curved hook focuses the mass near that end,> Holly helpfully coached. 

“Are you sure she’s asleep?” I whispered. 

<Positive. Let me dial up your hearing a little.>

The sound of soft, rhythmic snoring was pumped into my ear. Or from my eye socket, rather. That was good, at least.

After I worked up my nerve, I finally slid the back door open and stepped inside. Boots on this time. I’d been covered in cold sweat before, and this time the AC was freezing it into ice. 

<Oh, let me show you something cool. Close your other eye.> I did like she asked, keeping the robot eye open, and the world glitched out, coming back in blues and greens. I could see Mrs. Lovegood right through the wall. And through that floral dress she’d fallen asleep in too. In far too much graphic detail. Saggy skin. So much saggy skin.  <X-ray vision! Just one of my state-of-the-art features you’ll be able to enjoy from now on.> 

“Turn it off.”

<Roger, roger.>

I snuck closer and closer. 99.2%. This was a murderer. Serial killer, even. Who was already destined for a much longer, more painful death soon. And this was for the sake of saving the world. I was panting as I raised the crowbar up, and then I heard Mrs. Lovegood stir, cough, and sniff.

“Oh, must have nodded off. Sorry, but it’s hard to keep night and day straight sometimes when there’s no one else around. Finished with the yard, hun?”

“...Not yet.” I answered with a tight voice, then swung down with all of my strength, eyes closed. I felt the heavy end collide with flesh and sink in with a sickening smack. 

“Is this for your movie too?” Mrs. Lovegood asked, still half-asleep, like I hadn’t just tried to smash her brains in. 

<Nice swing! Keep your eyes open next time though because you got her in the shoulder.>

“I, uh…” Eyes open, I was looking at Mrs. Lovegood in the dim lighting, and she seemed no worse for wear. It’d been a solid hit though. If I’d been on the other end, I’m sure I’d be left with a broken shoulder at least!

<Keep going! The damage got converted to domination points. That means she definitely killed someone, or did something else vile enough to merit the classification.>

“Oh thank god.” I’d never been so glad to be in the same room with a murderer. That meant that I wasn’t going to be a murderer myself.

“Hun, are you okay? Is there someone you want me to call?” Murderer or not, the old woman was still looking up at me from the couch with nothing but concern. The effect ruined more than slightly by the floating red all caps VILLAIN over her head, with a red and green health bar right under that. 

“No, no. I’m fine. I just, uh… Mrs. Lovegood, did you really kill your husbands?” 

“What? No!” Her eyes went wide as her lips parted. For the first time, she looked scared. Terrified. “Not all of them. Technically. It’s more complicated than—” 

THWACK!

This time I swung the crowbar like a baseball bat, striking her right in the temple and lurching her body to the left, where it collapsed and went still. 

“Shit. Fuck. Is she…?” 

<No, no. This is normal. Haven’t you ever watched any beast taming videos? Successful taming means that their essence and physical body get separated, then the physical body is stored by the Skill as raw material for Summoning.>

The body of Mrs. Lovegood burst into blue-white flames. The blanket she’d had over her lap, her clothes, the couch itself, nothing seemed to catch fire or even get singed, and in a few seconds, the body was gone, leaving the outfit behind. 

<Congratulations! You’ve caught your first villain. Let’s take a look at her stats.>

“Do we have to do it here?” I needed some fresh air. I dropped the crowbar to the shag carpet and hustled back outside, paced around in circles. 

<I told you already, no one is going to notice she’s missing for months. And besides, Agnes owns this house, and you own Agnes, so technically, you own the house too.>

“Pretty sure that owning other people is illegal.”

<Extenuating circumstances. Saving the world, remember? So, when you’re ready, try and bring up your Inventory.> 

Inventory. A common Skill for almost every Class. It lets you store anything related to your Class in an extradimensional space. If I could stuff my lawnmower and the rest there, that’d make things so much easier. 

That stray thought was enough to manifest the inventory, floating in front of me like the screens Holly had done before. I took a seat on the couch next to the left behind dress and cardigan, then took a closer look.

“Are you doing that?” 

<I’m helping. It’s usually much more vague and indistinct, especially at first. After a few years of doing it, you can visualize it clearly, but we don’t have that kind of time. Besides, this sort of AR tech is commonplace in ten years.>

Ten years? Was the world going to end in ten years? Something to worry about ten years from now. For now, I took a look at the Inventory. A five by five grid, and only the top left was filled in with the portrait of Mrs. Lovegood.

As I focused on the portrait, more information was displayed to the side. 

Name: Agnes Joy Lovegood

Class: Hypnotist

Skills: Induction, Rapid Induction, Minor Suggestion, Self-Hypnosis, Lullaby, Siren Song

Hypnotist. A rare class, and a restricted one too. Not only did someone need a license for it, the Skills were only legally allowed with prior written consent and with recorded footage. But if she’d pretended to not have a Class like me, then suddenly it started making sense just how she’d gone through three husbands without ever being arrested. 

<Ooo… lucky! You got a Rare class on your first try!.>

“...and I just drank her lemonade without even thinking about it.” 

<Don’t worry, you’re fine, you’re fine. Now hurry and bring her out!>

The voice in my head was way more excited about this than I was. Still… I had a Class, and after a lifetime without, I wanted to see what it could do. “You’re not worried that she’ll brainwash me when I do? I mean, I whacked her in the head with a crowbar.”

<Not a problem! Tamed beasts can’t attack their Tamer.>

Well… no use putting it off any longer than this. I thought about asking just how I was supposed to summon her, but as soon as the thought came to mind, a flashing SUMMON button appeared on the same screen as the Inventory. With a mental click, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me, like I’d just ran up ten flights of stairs. 

Golden motes of light began to pull away from my skin, gathering at the top of my head before arcing towards the floor, piling up and taking form, the swirling motes looking like a jar of fireflies, getting more and more dense until there was a critical mass. The light intensified… and Mrs. Lovegood was back.

But I didn’t recognize her at all. She was supposed to be an old woman, on death’s door and with a body that’d given up decades ago. Instead, there was an attractive young woman standing in the middle of the room. Messy red hair, button nose, full lips, not a day over eighteen, if that. Perky breasts on a rail thin body, the waist slightly curved inwards, the hips slightly flaring out, with such slender thighs she could cross her knees and there’d still be a gap. The only thing she had in common with Mrs. Lovegood were piercing green eyes.

And she was naked.

Very naked. 

“Am I dreaming?” Mrs. Lovegood asked, though I didn’t know if that was directed at me or just said out loud. “Because if I am, I sure as hell don’t want to wake up.”

“Not dreaming. I don’t think. No. Do you, ah… feel okay?” I had no idea where to look, so I did a lousy job of keeping eye contact. “You want to go and get dressed?” 

She looked down at her naked figure, grinned wide. “Look. At. That. Hot damn!” She cupped her perky breasts in either palm and started bouncing them up and down. “Were my breasts always this sexy? And this figure!” She gave her flat stomach a loud slap. “God, I’m hot.” 

“Mrs. Lovegood?”

“Nuh uh. Don’t think you can keep calling me ‘Mrs. Lovegood’ after you’ve seen me in my birthday suit, hun. Just Joy is fine. And if you want to look, look! I’ve got you to thank for this, right?” 

“Okay, Joy. And… yeah. It’s a long story. You sure you don’t want to put on some clothes?” 

“Oh, honestly. There’s no need to be shy about looking at my body .” Mrs. Lovegood’s… Joy’s voice seemed to crank up the reverb, getting extra loud while whispering into my ear. 

It made me flinch, panic replacing embarrassment. “Did you just try to hypnotize me?”

“Did it not work? Wait.” She planted her hands on her hips as she looked at me, head cocked. “Didn’t you tell me you didn’t have a Class?” 

“About that. It’s kind of a lot to explain.” 

“Well, I was planning on watching reruns of Columbo this afternoon, but I suppose I can make time for an explanation.” Joy skipped the distance between us and jumped, legs spread, right into my lap. “Don’t mind if I make myself comfortable, do you?”

I protested as strongly as I possibly could. “It’s a bit much, actually.” 

She took my wrist and lifted it up to her chest, leaning forward into my palm while she bit down on her lower lip. “Pretty please…?”

It was a compelling argument. It made the explanation take maybe ten or fifteen minutes longer than it needed to on account of just how distracting Joy was when she was comfortable, but I found that I wasn’t in any hurry to finish and get her off my lap. 

“Wild. Just like Terminator then. You do look a little puffy around the eye too. Wow. So, I’ve been a bad girl, and you tamed me.” She’d started slightly rocking her hips at some point, leaving a wet stain right where the bulge on my jeans was. “Made me into your sexy, super fucking young pet. That’s wild. But you know, you could have just asked.” 

“Asked you to let me beat you with a crowbar?” 

“It does sound looney tunes when you put it like that.” Joy grabbed the bottom of my shirt and started lifting it up my chest. “But let’s focus on what’s important right now, hun. Are you going to fuck me or what?”

“I’ve been wondering for a while. Do you want to fuh… have sex with me because of my Class? Did it mess with your head?” 

<Good question!> Holly broke her long silence. <No idea. You’re the first person to have the Class and Skills, so from here on out it’s unknown territory. But contrasting with Beast Tamers, there are behavioral differences. Beasts obey their Tamer, are calm around humans, and have increased mental abilities that let them perform complex tasks. So it’d stand to reason that there’d be changes in those you Tame as well.”

“Hell yeah, it’s your Class! You wound the clock back to when I was a nymphomaniac, hun. Not to mention you worked up a nice sweat and a yummy smell. You have any idea how long it’s been since I fucked a hot young guy like you?” 

“Uh… fifty years?”

“Well, that’s just rude.” Joy slid off my lap and onto her knees on the carpet, fingers going to work on my belt and fly. “I think it must have been ten, maybe eleven years. This tall African boy who worked at the grocery. Offered to carry my groceries to the car, and then, well, we were all alone in the parking lot. How could I resist?”

Oh right. Agnes Joy Lovegood had a hidden Hypnotist class and had killed all three men that’d married her. Kind of dumb to think that she’d not take it further.

I did not need that mental image. 

“You didn’t… kill him, right?” 

Joy was unlacing my boots and pulling them off, one by one. “What? No, of course not. I just convinced him I was whatever the hell a pog is,” Now wasn’t a good time to mention to her just what a PAWG was, “sucked his cock, then let him tire himself out fucking me doggystyle. That boy couldn’t get enough. Not too hard when you can make a man cum with a snap of your fingers.”

The image of a late 60s Joy doing all of that was painfully vivid in my mind. 

“But, oh… he’d keep calling me, and I’d keep telling him another time, that I was too tired this or that day. And it was true. I was so, so tired every day for so long. But now…” Joy yanked on my pants, and I lifted up my hips obligingly. They slid off, and my cock swung up, already loose from the boxers I was wearing.

“Now, my cunt is aching, I can’t calm down, and your cock is looking goddamn fine, hun.” Her hands went to my thighs, and Joy attacked, running her tongue up the length and then swallowing it into her mouth, tongue swirling it around so fast it made my head spin. 

Joy kept going, only stopping when she must have sensed I was close, popping her mouth off and stroking me off with one hand while she looked up at me, “How do you like it in the bedroom? Want me to be rough? Gentle? Filthy slut or loving wife? I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on, and I want to make it special for you too.” 

“Well… anything is fine. I mean, wait. I’m not sure we should just… I barely know you, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s why we’re going to get to know each other real well, real fast, hun. So spill.” She gave the tip of my cock a kiss. “Or I’m not gonna let you spill.”

“I…” I've had three different girlfriends in my life. Confessing my kink had lost me the first girlfriend, and the second left when she saw my browser history. Went two years with the third, and was dumped for other, much more legitimate reasons like “still living with my mother” and “always broke”. 

But Joy? The woman was a nymphomaniac serial killer/rapist. Which was terrifying when I thought about it for too long, but if ever there was someone who would be in no position to judge, it was her. 

“I like… I like BDSM.” 

“Wait, you’re gay? Hmm. I guess we can go and find a third. Anyone in particular you’ve got a crush on?” 

“What!? No! No no no.” My cock twitched at the idea that Joy was just offering to brainwash anyone on command, even if she had it wrong. “What do you think BDSM means?”

“Like  the pride marches on television. Men in leather and chains, spanking each other, having a good time. Is that not it?”

“Okay. Well, they do it outside of the parades.” 

Joy giggled, “I figured, hun.”

“I mean…! It’s not just gay people! It’s for cis people too.” 

“Wait, you’re a sissy too?”

“No! Goddamnit! Look! I like it when hearing a girl call a guy sir. Or master. Acting like a slave. Wearing collars. Okay!?”

Joy kept the innocent look on her face for an extra three seconds, then started laughing so hard she had to grab her own belly. “Come on, hun. I might be old, but I ain’t dumb. I was reading the Gor novels before you were even born.”

“And if you are into that kind of thing, then it won’t really work if you’re so dang nervous you can barely speak. If you’re trying to be all polite. A real Master only cares about his pleasure, right? And a real slavegirl… well, all she cares about is the Master’s pleasure too. So how about it, hun? Feeling relaxed now, right?” 

Joy rose up to her feet with liquid grace, turned around, then swiped her hands over the coffee table, sending a mess of magazines to the floor to make room for her to plant her palms down as she bent over, waving her ass right in my face. 

“Are you going to punish this girl’s naughty ass, hun? Oh! I mean, are you going to punish this girl's naughty ass… Master ?”

I was honestly too stunned to take her up on that offer right away. She’d played me like a fiddle. But I couldn’t hesitate too long, not with that pert bottom wagging in front of me. Her pussy was on display, slick with juices and swollen pink. 

“You really are a pervert, aren’t you?” I pushed two fingers into that inviting pussy and slid in easily. It was enough to get a moan out of Joy, her body shivering.

“Yes, Master. This girl is such a pervert.” Gone was the vixen brimming with confidence. She’d become meek as a mouse as she whimpered those words out. All for my benefit, I’m sure, but she was a damn fine actress. And wet as she was, that arousal was genuine. “Please punish this girl, Master.” 

I started pumping my fingers in and out of her, hooking them slightly to hold her there, then gave her a firm slap on the ass.

“Fuck!” Joy surprised me with how spirited the shout was. 

“Too hard?” 

“Yeah! Hang on a sec… no. Not hard at all. Just been a spell since the last time, and… this body is way more sensitive than I’m used to. Those fingers of yours feel better’n anything I’ve got in my nightstand drawer.”

I gave her a slap on the other cheek to make them match. 

“Fuuuck! I t-told you to wait!” Joy complained, but she didn’t take her palms off the coffee table.

“But you can take it, can’t you?” I asked while I was squeezing her ass, nice and firm under the thin layer of fat. 

“Of course I can, hun, takes more than—FUCK!” A spanking in the same location got twice the reaction out of her. 

“I’m not hun right now. It’s Master, remember?” 

“Oh honey!” She broke into a fit of giggles, catching on. “I mean… Oh, Master!” 

Joy shoved her ass back towards me, taking my fingers in deeper. “This girl will take whatever Master fucking gives her.”

“About that. I think I need to punish you for using such naughty language.” I put a little more strength into it this time when I slapped her right cheek for the third time. 

“Oh fuuu…right! Uh huh! No more potty mouth, Master.” Joy was panting now, noisily sucking in every through her mouth. “So hurry up and… how should I say it, Master?” 

I pulled my fingers out of Joy, a long sticky line of pussy drool connecting us as I wiped the juices off on my cock. “ How about… you tell me to fuck your needy cunt?” 

“Fickle. But yes! Master, please fuck my needy cu… FUCK!” I’d given her another slap right on the same spot. “

“I told you to watch your language.” I rubbed her ass, already a nice shade of pink. “Now try again.”

“Hun, you’re lucky you’ve got me so revved up I’d sell the house for that cock of yours,” Joy said wryly before slipping back into her role, “Master… please fuck your slave’s needy cunt.” 

SMACK! “Master, please fuck your slave’s needy cunt!”

SMACK! “Master! Please fuck your slave’s needy cunt!”

SMACK! “Master!! Please! Fuck your—ooohhhhhh fuuuuck….”

Her needy cunt was tight, and when I buried myself inside, it squeezed down even tighter. I put both hands on her hips as I thrust, and Joy was pushing back against me like she was trying to knock me off my feet. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, already…” She stopped pushing back, her whole body shaking, “...cumming! Fuck, you’re making me cum!” 

I slowed down for a few seconds, then backed up, pulling Joy with me, sitting back on the couch and depositing her in my lap, the new position driving deeper inside. “You’re not done.” 

“Oh hell yes, Master,” Joy sounded high and drunk as she answered, slurring just slightly as she began to bounce her hips now, controlling the tempo. “Your cock is so damn good, Master. So damn good. I swear, it’s nice and big and hard and all that, but more than that, it’s just… I don’t even know! It’s fucking magical. A cock this good, I’ll call you Master whenever you want, just so long as you keep pounding me!”

“Deal!” I growled it out as I took a tight grip on her breasts, squeezing down roughly. She ground her ass down in my lap, and my restraint gave out. I grunted and moaned as I pumped my hot cum right into her womb. Joy shook in response, squealing even louder than before as she came with me.

“Mmm… love the way your cum feels inside of me. So warm… ahhh, there’s so much too. Hahhh…” Joy got up just long enough to turn herself around and hop back in my lap, arms wrapped around my neck. “Thanks, hun. You won’t believe how much I needed that.” 

“Same.” 

We stayed there for a while, and having her petite body resting, breathing softly while she was nuzzling the top of her head under my chin, was almost better than the sex itself. Comfortable in a way I’d never known. 

Eventually, when I was ready to get up, I asked, “Mind if I borrow your shower? I was already covered in dried sweat and grime before we even got started, and if I went home smelling like this, I’d get an earful.”

“Do you even need to ask, Master ?” she said with a bright smile. “Might be a bit of a mess, but you’re welcome to it, hun. I’ve not had company over in… oh lord, let’s not even think about it. It’s a good thing you rolled the years back, because there’s a mountain of cleaning I need to get to if you’re gonna be staying over. Oh, what do you want for dinner? Any allergies I should know about?” 

“I uh…” I trailed off, not sure how to answer. 

“...Okay, thinking I might just be getting ahead of myself. Agnes Joy Lovegood, you don’t even know this man’s name. Speaking of…?”

“Hiroshi. Hiroshi Jones.” I’d introduced myself to her this morning when I’d knocked on the door to ask if it was okay to film myself cutting her lawn, but I couldn’t blame her for forgetting. 

“Hiroshi Jones.  Got it. Unless you prefer Master?” 

She was making me blush. “Hiroshi is fine. And staying over sounds nice. I can help you clean. Actually… oh yeah. I can get started with finishing up your yard.” 

I decided to delay the shower for now since I was heading back to the swamp-like outdoors anyways, and Joy offered to wash my clothes, and that she’d find something else for me to wear in the meantime. There was a long, long, long and uncomfortable silence between us as I realized it’d be an outfit worn by one of her previous husbands that she’d murdered. Best not to think about that. 

After that, I was back out in the yard, going to town with a weed whacker. 

<Excellent work! I’m so proud of you.>

“I was wondering when you were going to chime in.” 

<I thought it best to give you some privacy, didn’t want to give you performance anxiety, after all. That and running my neural processor drains the battery fast, and you’re my battery, so I can’t be there with you all the time.>

“Hold on. If I’m the battery, how healthy is that?”

<Oh, you’ll be fine. The technology to recharge my chassis externally will come to market long before you start seeing any adverse health effects.>

Holly must have been concerned by the uneasy groan I made, because she quickly added, <Kidding! Kidding!>

Was she? 

Oh well. Compared to everything else I had on my plate, it could wait.

Thanks for reading! If you want to catch up on all eight chapters of Villain Tamer and a slew of other stuff on my patreon, commission me to write some particular fantasy of yours, or just read some of the other stories I’ve posted around the web, you can find all of those links here.