Lark has never been the best of the best. It’s been the rule of her blurry life. A universal law that seemed to follow her wherever she went. When she was snatched by the UA, she was set in stone as her combat partner’s second best.

Beneath her in piloting.

Beneath her in… many avenues… until the woman so far above her helped her soar past the Arcadium’s fascist control.

Now Lark was a rebel again. Though, with her memory more clouded by smoke than the dozens upon dozens of battlefields she’d eviscerated for her Handler, it was different…

The things she’d done for Her.

The things She’d done to her…

So… why did she still think of Her… of Handler… with such reverence?

Her mind was blocked out by a further deluge of questions.

What was she like before Handler?

Who was she?

Did she deserve the scorn most of these saps glared at her with? She couldn’t even attend a mission briefing or a shower without them staring at her like wounded predators holding an exceptionally valid grudge…

Questions. All these questions.

Constantly.

Her mind was a broken record that She might as well have just snapped in half… if it wasn’t for Sasha…

…

Right! Sasha! With the thought of her beautiful, reformed girlfriend, Lark’s mental fog began to clear a little, though never quite enough. 

Thoughts about Her remained, and they felt as essential to Lark’s function as air. She could scream and shout and hit things all she wanted, but those were permanent, only silenced a fraction by the pondering of tonight’s stupid bullshit.

As Lark strolled the halls of Corvis Base on a path to her and Sasha's bunk, she tried as hard as she could to see Sasha’s point of view. She trusted that woman with her life. She’d kill for her. She’d die for her.
Lord, she joined the rebels for the reprogrammed beauty after a little lover’s quarrel.

Sasha was rarely wrong. Sasha was almost universally right…

So, why did Lark doubt that dumb plan of hers? Obviously she needed to move on from their Handler. Dreaming about Her…

Thinking about Her while piloting the SHI-EN…

Sasha was right, of course. This couldn’t last if Lark truly wanted to be like her. But Lark didn’t get the luxury of killing Her, assuming She could die in the first place. It wasn’t that easy! It made Lark angry that it wasn’t!

Anger turned to doubt as she approached the sliding door to her bunk…

Bailey Cluanaire…

An ex-mercenary who’d joined the rebel cause for her hag of a girlfriend’s approval. One of the supposed best pilots in the galaxy…

A prissy rich bitch…

That was Sasha’s answer to getting Handler out of her nightmares?

The magical solution covered in fairy dust and sprinkles was some reject from the Merc Guild?

Sasha hadn’t led her astray yet, but the mere idea of that woman thinking she could snap her fingers and mold her mind free of Handler’s depraved mental damage was infuriating. She should have opened that door and killed her. Could make a nice new mask for Sasha out of what she’d tear off those cybernetic arms of hers…

Lark didn’t, though. She wasn’t an angry, brainwashed fascist animal anymore. She was a rebel with a cause, and that cause was Sasha…

Lark took a breath. Then another. Then a couple more as she stood outside the door to her bunk. She definitely heard talking while she caught her breath and buried her rage. Was that Sasha and Bailey, or the voices still plaguing her mind like an Arcadium-induced virus?

No more time-wasting. Lark slammed her fist against the button by the door as uncalmly as she did just about anything, walking through and assessing the view in her and Sasha’s humble abode.

Truthfully? It was nothing special. Bigger and less prison-like than their cells in the UA’s pit, sure, but it was dimly lit and cramped all the same.

Lark had effectively no possessions to make it feel like a shared room, either, barring a pink teddy bear resting on the top of their bed with a little name tag on its collar. 

Sasha Jr., how she loved you…

Alas, Sasha’s limited possessions managed to dwarf poor Sasha Jr. A few shelves of miscellaneous knickknacks sat on shelves by their bed, all seemingly given to her by friends she’d made on this base. A plush toy of a mech suit and a finished battle bot were Lark’s personal favorites to ogle.

She didn’t know any of these people enough to guess who gave what, of course. Not truly. 

Ina Ymari, a recon pilot and leader of a chess club on base, was the only one she’d properly met thus far, and an angry game of chess wasn’t the finest of introductions, okay as Ina claimed to be with it all.

Everyone else and every other gift remained a mystery. Though the premium-looking balisong resting by the battle bot seemed to match Bailey’s wretched personality.

Everything else in the tiny, single-person bunk was uninteresting. Tiny and empty. Fitting for a respected rebel’s trophy wife…

Sasha had at least pushed to get a bigger room when Lark converted, but said request fell on deaf ears. Only the great and almighty face of the rebels, Nataliza Rayfield, seemed to warrant that treatment when bringing an undesirable into the fold. Typical hero worship of a competent pilot past her prime.

Even as a newly crowned rebel, Lark knew that woman’s day was coming, and pretending to mourn it with Sasha would be a taxing little burden. Took Sasha away from her for months…

Stupid old bitch!

Lark’s focus turned to the two figures on her bed when her head cleared again. Sasha, her beautiful brunette beloved, sat with a smile as she cut the ice with the unfortunately also rather beautiful Bailey Cluanaire.

“So you really do play chess there? Mh, shame. Figured you and Aoi were a recipe for a much better time~.” Bailey’s voice, disgustingly, was as smooth as silk, delivered with a deceptive playfulness.

Disgusting wannabe.

“Most of the time, sure? It kinda depends on who’s there. If it’s just Ina and I… it’s not always a chess club~.” Sasha, meanwhile, spoke with a light, tomboyish charm that pierced Lark’s very soul and seemed to earn an earnest-sounding chuckle from their third wheel of the night. “Oh! Sweetie!” Playfulness promptly turned to adoration when she spotted her girlfriend.

Lark’s moment of losing herself in love was broken by that love physically manifested. Sasha bounced off their bed and ran to Lark like they’d been apart for a week. Before Lark could blink, she was pulled into a tender hug by her girlfriend, a hand already running through her soft black hair and its spiky ponytail like they were about to undress right there.

Ah, Sasha being ass naked. On most days, that thought could break even Lark’s most overpoweringly angry brain fog…

“So that’s her then?” Charming and flirty as Lark was when stressed, she spoke with a harsh hiss joined by a harsher glare towards Bailey.

“Oh, that tone doesn’t suit you at all, birdie~.” Bailey replied with only a hint of her own harshness lurking behind her sweetness. Not even a little like Her. What a waste of time…

Sasha seemed as confident as ever, though, smiling away while leaning in to peck Lark on the lips, which the irritated bird accepted as the gift it was. “Lark, this is Bailey! She’s the one who’s been helping me with that… thing. Bailey–”

“No need. I know everything I need to about your cute little girlfriend already, Pigeon.” Before Sasha could finish, she was rudely and annoyingly interrupted by Bailey, who stood up and began pacing slowly towards the two. Asshole. “So, you’re her little birdie, hm?” Bailey already eyes Lark up with… was it hunger? Maybe amusement?

Lark didn’t know what it was, but it caused an angry scowl to start creeping on her face. “Got somethin’ to say, huh?” Her following words contained a similar growing annoyance, too.

“Mh, nothing really… Although… I did expect someone a little meaner-looking. Your Handler clearly wasn’t wasting the good birdseed on you!” Bailey’s voice was as cocky as it was alluring. Her smirky face was punchably smug…

…

Lark already wanted to make her swallow her teeth!

Sure, Bailey had a good four inches on her at least. And, yeah, Lark was rather lithe and pale for a mech pilot, especially compared to her girlfriend's and the reject’s frames of muscle, curves, and darker complexions…

“Bite me! You’re not even good enough to address her by rank!” Lark settled for some light aggression, followed by Sasha pecking her on the lips again to keep her calm.

“It’s okay, Lark. I promise. Do you trust me?” Sasha’s words were so unnecessary it was almost offensive. Obviously she did. Lark would do anything for her and her gentle words… “Bailey, play a little nice, okay?” …even a perpetually arrogant prick like Bailey Cluanaire…

“That isn’t what your tight little girlfriend thinks, but she’s right. We shouldn’t get off on the wrong foot now, should we?” Bailey’s words oozed a self-satisfaction that made Sasha blush while also making Lark’s skin crawl… and her heart ache? Odd, but she was interrupted in her mind malaise by Bailey approaching her and Sasha, resting a hand on the latter’s shoulder, one of those putrid cyber-arms reaching to toy with Lark’s hair. “You’re eager to see where this goes, hm? Sasha doesn’t tend to lie to me~.”

Gross, yet familiar…

Lark hated that she didn’t even flinch, despite the rageful look in her eyes. She really should have punched her…

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this bullshit over with…” Lark saw no reason to mince words nor get into some kind of character. Bailey Cluanaire wasn’t Her. She was beneath Her even at Her very worst.

But Sasha was rarely wrong. She could entertain this for her… and confront the already odd feelings in her gut after. 

Bailey had nothing on Her…

“Atta girl. So, Sasha…” Bailey cooed towards Lark’s girlfriend with a level of familiarity disgusting even in their open relationship, strutting back towards them after and doing some kind of clicking sound with her tongue. “Help me get my suit off. By yourself. Don’t need inexperienced talons ripping it, do I?” Smug bitch and her stupid, gorgeous voice…

“Rude… but I do know it better...” Sasha seemed to frown at the disparaging comment towards Lark, but whatever charms Bailey had, they’d certainly hooked into Sasha long before Lark got here. The cuddle was over, and before Lark knew it, Sasha and Bailey were both by the bed.

Lark was simply… standing there, looking on in some stew of uselessness and slightly visible irritation. If she really came here to watch a disgusting merc toy with her girlfriend, with her consent no less…

Deeply fucking annoying…

“Like I’d want to touch anything you’ve worn anyway…” Lark perished the thought of letting Sasha down, but not the idea of barking back at Bailey, even as Sasha began unzipping Bailey’s suit.

“Say that again in fifteen minutes, and you might be worth actually breaking in, birdie~.” Bailey’s reply was smooth and full of it, but with Sasha moving behind her to guide the reject’s cyber-arms from finicky openings with unguided, quiet experience, of course she was.

Sasha seemed to tune out the arguing, too. She clearly knew Bailey intimately… but was the venom this expected? Was Lark playing right into Bailey’s hand?

She didn’t know. She didn’t care. Lark saw Bailey’s game, and that’s exactly why she was nothing like Her.

Predictable.

Pathetic.

Nothing like Her.

“I get you, ya know. Get exactly why you’re so damn smug.” A smile managed to take flight on Lark’s face, even as Sasha moved to her knees to pull the legs of Bailey’s suit down with more than a little lust in her eyes. Not like Lark’s ass wasn’t as good. It was better!

Lark? Jealous? No way! She just wanted to clock Bailey in the jaw because she felt like it!

“Mh? Do you~?” Pulling Lark from her silent rage, Bailey’s reply was cocksure and followed by her gaze moving down towards Sasha. The suit was almost off, and Lark couldn’t pretend Bailey didn’t look good...

She’d try first, though.

“Think ya got Sasha wrapped around your finger like She did, right? Like you’re some alpha hunter or whatever bullshit you and your fossil of a girlfriend talk about?” Lark was able to keep her gaze towards Bailey’s face, even as the reject stepped out of her suit and re-equipped her pricey-looking, recently polished leather boots. Of course she was one of those. “Sasha wants a quick fuck. You’re nothing compared to Her!” Lark, for a brief moment, felt powerful, then felt powerless…

A metronome started going off in her head, joined by a look of panic. Cursing out Bailey Cluanaire made her powerful. Slipping back into Her claws made her powerless…

To further complicate things, Bailey seemed to be wearing a new smile. A familiar smile. The kind of smile one only wore when someone knew they had a person in the palm of their hand.

Her smile.

Bailey didn’t speak a word for a few slow moments that dug into Lark’s brain. The reject’s gaze now locked itself onto her. Bailey’s tongue dragged along her lips before Sasha finally stood up again, seemingly ready to say something…

That something didn’t come. One of Bailey’s gloved hands gently laid its palm on the top of Sasha’s head, the gaze of her fiery pools of amber turning to Sasha’s deep, blue eyes.

Bailey’s lips parted, and four simple, despicable words left her sickly and scintillating voice with frustratingly trained precision.

“Spread Your Wings, Pigeon~.”

They were delivered with Her sharpness. Yet, they were delivered with Bailey’s own sultry, enticing finish. A despicable combination.

Panic in Lark’s eyes turned to doubtful rage, even as three-quarters of Bailey’s short statement rocked Lark to her very core. A twinge in her heart. A groping in her brain.

All of it was only worsened by the toned, curvy beauty that stood by Sasha. A perfect figure from her dark, orange hair to her smooth, darker, clay-toned skin.

She was tall, too. Her chest? Annoyingly, much bigger than Lark’s and even a size above Sasha’s pair...

She was built like Her… but there was the flaw.

She’d never let her see Her nude like this.

No. Never. Not a chance. Anyone could have done what Bailey had if they’d pulled that phrase from Sasha’s subconscious, or a fight with Handler, or however this reject stole it!

It was a bluff. Some stupid little party trick! Sasha? She was just playing along with it to make Bailey feel hotter, or maybe even to make Lark forget about Her.

No. Lark wouldn’t stand for a charade like that. Even for a good cause.

“Y-Yeah, yeah. Cute trick, but you two can cut the act. That wasn’t even her name!” Lark stood her ground and took a few steps towards the two. Despite that, she began to feel trapped in a slight bubble of uncertainty, sweating ever so subtly when she regretfully glanced over towards Sasha.

The fucking look in her eyes. Empty. Just like when She used to say it.

No. Another party trick. It had to be…

It just had to be.

“Oh? Birdie wants to see a trick done to her little valkyrie, does she?” Bailey seemed to take immense joy in this, her glare now locked onto Sasha, barring one bit of side-eye Lark swore she didn’t imagine. “Come on, Pigeon. Get my toys so we can show Birdie a trick~.” Bailey’s words almost sounded rehearsed. Worse, they sounded like they’d been uttered plenty without Lark’s presence. It had to be a trick…

…but, then, how the fuck did she know Sasha’s old name?

Wordlessly, Sasha bent down and began rooting under the bed with laser precision. It took seconds, but it felt like Lark was watching those vacant eyes stare into an invisible sky for eons. As if Handler had ordered her to fly or fuck without guilt or shame.

It just fucking couldn’t be. Lark felt like she could explode already, and the expression on her face hid it terribly.

Fortunately, Bailey wasn’t Her. There was no loaded firearm to stick in their mouths nor blade to hover above their chests. Sasha’s hands merely contained a long whip and two leashes, as far as Lark could parse through the fog of rage, at least.

It’d take more than that to make Lark fear this reject. She was only starting to ball one of her fists because she felt like it.

There was a direction this could go that Lark did fear, though. A move Bailey could make after motioning Sasha to hand her tools over. She simply had to try, desperately, to be confident some wannabe with nice tits couldn't think of it. Like anyone other than Her had cunning like that anyway…

“Weak shit. Think you can scare me with some BDSM tricks and a whip? I took worse as a reward, reject!” Lark’s immediate response to the growing doubt was a clearly annoyed bit of quiet yelling. As her response to most things tended to be!

The response seemed to only goad Bailey further, but she’d crack. She. Wasn’t. Her.

“I’m sure you did. So, why would I waste one of my best toys on such a useless pincushion, hm?” Bailey’s soft yet vindictive words sliced through Lark enough to make her grind her teeth… “Clothes off, Pigeon. It’d be rude to make Birdie wait~.” Lark could sense the vacancy in Sasha while she began mindlessly disrobing on command. Painful…

But, when Sasha untied the arms to her half-worn flight suit and let it drop to the floor, it almost felt like Lark’s worries joined it for a moment. Sasha’s black and red shirt, white panties, and matching silver bracelets all became one with both the suit and Lark’s worries moments later, too.

Lord above, Sasha was perfect. Her tanned, divine body looked sculpted by the heavens for Lark to personally drool all over. Toned and strong. Soft and plump. Sasha towed the line between perfect poster mech pilot and a girl built for hot, sweaty lesbian sex with an angry girlfriend better than anyone could.

Sure looked better on a poster than the reject’s old bitch… that was for sure!

Sadly, though, the shot of confidence wasn’t meant to last. After kicking her boots off, Sasha was left with one small article of clothing: a simple white bra… that oddly contained a clip in between its two cups.

Lark knew it well. It was their harness, and Bailey knew to attach one of the leashes in her hand to it a moment later.

There Sasha was.

A bird on a tether again…

Lark took a deep breath, then averted her gaze from Sasha’s gorgeous, claimed form to Bailey’s smiling face. Fake it until you make it, Lark. This cunt had no right leashing her girlfriend while she stood there and took it.

She. Wasn’t. Her.

“You ain’t impressing me, y’know. Bet Aoi could’ve pulled that off without the fucking theatrics.” Lark tried to smile, though it looked far more like an aggravated grimace. She was through, taking a few steps towards Bailey with all the confidence she could muster.

And so, so many thoughts about how much better She was. Her strength. Her power…

CRAHK!

All thoughts that melted into brain soup when the familiar sound of a whip cracking against the floor reached Lark’s ears. She’d stopped moving without even thinking about it. Her eyes turned to Bailey’s like it was some kind of instinct.

Embers. She saw those embers around her…

“Aoi would have been working me like a champ by now, Birdie. Honestly, Pigeon should just date her instead, shouldn’t she~?” Bailey’s voice was commanding in its vicious teasing, and Sasha’s vacant soul only made her power clearer.

Come on, Sasha. That was too fucking far.

Prove it was a bluff… this base had to be better than… that…

“Go f-”

CRAHK!

Another crack of the whip silenced Lark’s rebuttal two words in. The embers grew… She swore she could smell ash…

She swore the voices were louder…

“Mouth closed unless I want it open for something, Birdie. Captain’s orders~.” Once more, Bailey’s voice had a contrasting authoritative smoothness in its every syllable.

No Handler, though.

Not Her.

For now, Lark responded with a nod and a loud huff. At least playing along might prevent another thunderous crack from assaulting her ears.

“Little more of that and you might be worth finishing inside, Birdie.” Bailey teased a scowling but still Lark before her attention returned to Sasha, who remained quiet and still as ever. “Bottom of the bed, Pigeon. Give us a nice view of that cute ass I own~.”

Disgusting sleazebag.

Smug prick.

Overconfident ass.

Cocky reject.

Handler was never that cocky. Arrogance wasn’t even something She could produce. The embers died down as Sasha bent over the bottom of their single-size bed.

Lark took another step forward, now only a few feet from Bailey and Sasha. “You don’t own shit! You barely own that old bag you fuck with!” Lark was confident again. Moreover, she was angrier. It was in her voice, in her eyes, and in her posture. Bailey even let her finish? No whip cracking?

“Now what did I say-” Bailey’s almost evil smirk sent a small shiver down Lark’s spine. That tone was dangerous…

WHP-SHH!

Bailey proved the danger was real when her whip made firm, aggressive contact with Sasha’s ass. A red mark was already left by Bailey’s casual strike, and a lick of her lips was joined by Sasha, even in a state of Pigeon, shivering. “-about that mouth of yours, Birdie~.” She was smug.

She was so defeatingly smug.

Lord, why shouldn’t she fucking be? The second the end of her whip struck Sasha, Lark’s body shook like she was taking the blow. But she wasn’t. She was making mistakes, and Sasha was taking the beating for it. Sure, not as violently, but in Lark’s mind, it may as well have been…

The emptiness, too…

Sasha was there just enough to physically feel it, but that was all she seemed to feel.

Fuck. No, no, no. Fuck, fuck.

This was like Her. It was. Lark couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t, she couldn’t.

“I’m so-”

WHP-SHH! WHP-SHH!

Lark couldn’t even attempt to apologize. Bailey struck Sasha’s other cheek with the same fervor twice over.

“What did I just say, Birdie? Pigeon didn’t mention that little hearing problem of yours~.” The self-approving jeers continued after Sasha’s moan pierced Lark’s skull, but Bailey wasn’t done taking shots at Lark. Sasha too, in another sense. “Not a word that I didn’t ask to hear. Can you do that, hm?” Every word from Bailey was like getting burned by the embers of a roaring fire…

Lark wouldn’t falter this easily. Perhaps finding a replacement for Her could be good for her. Sasha was probably right…

…but it wasn’t going to be a redhead with a superiority complex. 

Superior to dirt, maybe!

Still, Lark had no desire to hear that whip collide with Sasha’s reddening ass again. No, it didn’t look perfect when it jiggled. Shut up.

No, Lark wasn’t getting wet down there… shut up.

Ignoring the embers and the voices screaming bullshit in her head, Lark nodded her head, not speaking with her voice but clearly communicating growing anger with her frustrated gaze.

“Look at that. Birdie can listen, after all.” Don’t punch her. Don’t punch her. Don’t walk up to her and punch her in the fucking thro- “Fingerfuck yourself while I deal with your girl. You’re no fun to bruise when you can't whine about it, Pigeon~.” That easy? A head nod, and Bailey was just giving up? What a fucking joke! “On your back. Spread legs. I’d like something good to look at in this room right now.” Shallow fucking reject!

…

So why could Lark swear she still saw those embers…?

WHP-SHH! WHP-SHH!

Ah, two more red marks on Sasha’s perfect, sensitive ass to close this out. One more shudder of confliction from Lark to join it, too. That was why.

Don’t. Punch her…

Sasha. Wouldn’t like it…

Lark’s rageful eyes flittered between a calmly approaching Bailey and a Sasha who, after a bit of pained effort, got onto her sore rear and went to work on Bailey’s request. Not a thought in her head. It couldn’t be a bluff. It just couldn’t… Lark saw it, and it was as real as when She did this to Sasha’s mind…

She couldn’t look away. It was rude for Lark to stare. Handler would have punched her in the stomach for it if She were here, but Sasha… or Pigeon… was irresistible. The way her fingers toyed with her soft, wet folds. Her impatience as she already plunged her two middle fingers inside herself, both more awake and less sentient than she’d looked all night. An ecstasy of unknowing. A bliss of vacancy.

The sounds dug deep enough into her brain to briefly drown out the crackling anger and growing red-hot voices. She wanted to be Sasha. She wanted to be under Sasha with her tongue inside her.

Lark needed to be both…

“Who said that view was for you, Birdie~?” All of that wonderful disassociation and acceptance of her needs was dashed by Bailey stepping in front of her to block her masturbatory view, with some annoying little tuts to mock her, too.

Ugh…

Why did she have to be so tall? All Lark could see was her chest…

Why did her chest have to be so much bigger than hers? All Lark could do was stare at her big, soft tits in horny envy…

Why was Bailey Cluanaire, a reject, built like a goddess bathed in flame…?

Why. Was. Bailey. Like. Her?

Lark had to fight this. She had to. It couldn’t just be this easy for Bailey. It couldn’t!

“Who said you were hot shit, huh?” Lark’s glare moved up to Bailey’s gorgeous, confident face. Lark’s face was flustered and irritated. Her posture projected a mix of unconfidence and seething, violent rage. She had to fight her. “Do ya get off on being like Her? On hurtin’ people? Sick fuck!” Lark barely believed her own words, barring the reverent mention of her Handler, but this was the only fight she felt was right.

Sasha wouldn’t be happy if she got violent and broke this reject’s teeth…

“Still so feisty, Birdie. Real cute spirit you got~.” Bailey mused while the same hand holding her whip began gently brushing against Lark’s hair.

Soothing…

But no! Lark wasn’t here to be soothed by a copycat of Her!

“Answer the question!” Lark took two large steps back, creating some essential distance while she growled out her words like an animal.

“I should fix that little attitude problem first… But…” Bailey let her tongue drag across her lips before continuing. “Truthfully, Birdie? Mh, I’d much prefer to simply slip a pill in your mouth and have you drool all over me. That’s my style~.” So Bailey… didn’t want to be Her? But…

…Sasha got this whole thing going because she did…

Right?

No. This only proved She was nothing like her. But if she wasn’t- Hell- If she didn’t want to be Her… then what was Bailey’s goal?

Lark needed to know more before she clocked this faker in the nose!

“Then why the fuck are you even here? Why are you using Her… Her…” Lark didn’t even know how to put it. The trigger phrase’s state was something she didn’t understand or know shit about. It just…

It was a thing that happened in her brain… Nothing more…

“Her techniques? Here I thought Pigeon took all the fun out of this before I got here~...” Bailey smiled, moving her arm and lightly draping her whip behind her shoulder while she stared Lark down. “Pigeon over there had needs. I wanted her for myself. Our little arrangement gave her a way to move on from that Handler she kept moaning the name of in her sleep.” Bailey took a step forward, and Lark took another step back.

“I know that part, dumbass! But you don’t have to pretend you’re… you’re Her to get with Pig- Sasha. Why do that?” Lark pointed to the bed, and that only grew Bailey’s smile into something more cocky.

“Every girl has a weakness. Some are more… enjoyable, obviously…” Bailey paused and took another step. Lark didn’t step back this time. “I just enjoy finding uses for them. Even yours, Birdie~.”

“Get to the fucking point!” Lark was almost through. Her fist was balled. She was ready to plant this fucker on the floor…

“Pigeon’s was needing Handler’s touch again. She wanted it. Mh… She fucking needed it.” Bailey paused, letting what Lark already knew sink in before continuing with a hum. “Ina’s is a praise kink… and a few other secrets you don’t deserve to know. Nataliza’s is me~.” That last bit was spoken with an extra little air of pride. Bailey was loving herself. Lark wasn’t. “And you? I knew yours before she even brought you here. You’re an open book, Birdie.” Alas, Bailey was allowed to finish all the same.

She was pissing Lark off. She was really pissing her off. Pigeo- Sasha’s needs were probably obvious! A blind woman could have figured that out about Ina!

Of course Liz was weak for Bailey. She was weak as shit.

Lark took a step forwards, getting into her best fighting stance with every projected intention of punching Bailey in the throat. “Bullshit. You know nothing about me! Nothing!” She was angry. Her speech was quickening in pace by the word and joined by a few voice cracks. She could kill her. Would Sasha notice? Would she care?

No. Not a chance. Because Bailey.

Wasn’t.

HER.

“Mh, that’s a bad look on you, Birdie…” Bailey had the expression of someone who’d already won before this debate started. Like it was all planned. Bailey’s right cyber-arm moved from its resting place behind her back, and in her metallic, skeletal hand was… it… “Doesn’t this suit you better~?” It was her mask.

Lark’s dark red oni mask. One about the size of a dog muzzle and made from basic plastic and a few metal flourishes. Bailey had it. Sasha didn’t throw it out.

Her mask.

The mask she needed.

The mask that let her hide away from who she is.

Her demonic persona.

Her beak.

Whatever the fuck Handler called it each day, it was there, in Bailey’s porcelain-like hand, surrounded by embers and emanating a crackling fire into Lark’s ears.

“H-How did…” Lark was lost for words. She was angry, but she was in a desperate need, too. She could hide from the voices.

The screams.

The fire.

“Didn’t I say it already, Birdie?” Bailey looked down on Lark with power radiating from her face. Lark felt hot. She felt like she was inches from a heap of burning mechs. Inches from hundreds of corpses she’d made. For Her. “I know everything about you~.” Bailey knew it. She knew everything. The guilt. The murders.

What Handler did to excise it all from her head.

Lark needed Her. Lark needed anyone.

Lark needed that mask.

Lark needed not to be herself.

Bailey’s smile permeated Lark’s very soul. Was she not finished yet? Lark stopped herself from speaking, fighting not to let the anger in her face get replaced with grief and guilt.

“Come on, Birdie. Tell me what you want… Maybe you’ve earned it~.” Bailey’s words were like magma poured on Lark’s mind. What she wanted?

What Lark wanted?

Lark wanted to be free from it all again. The guilt. The crumbling self-identity. Every waking moment away from Sasha felt like the utter worst of Handler’s offenses, but even they were more comforting than the screams of death echoing her thoughts. A miracle that they’d drowned out Pigeon’s empty moans and skilled, wet fingering mere feet away.

A cruel miracle.

Wait. No. Sasha, not Pigeon. Right?

Lark couldn’t take it. Giving Bailey such power- such utter, complete dominance over her, made Lark want to puke, but the intrusions in her mind did so much worse.

Lark wouldn’t be happy about it.

Lark wouldn’t be proud of it.

But She wasn’t here. Bailey and the mask together? A poor substitute, but a substitute nonetheless.

“F-Fine…” Lark grumbled her words, darting her eyes between the comforting mask and Bailey’s menacing-seeming look. “...Please.” Lark added in some politeness with a pit of shame brewing in her stomach. The mask would fix that.

It was everything…

…and Bailey knew it.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now?” Bailey wore some faux impression of warm, soft kindness… before that cat-like, smug smirk grew on her again. “This will be, though~.” Bailey’s softness turned to something sickly sweet, yet bitterly cruel.

In a move so fast Lark scarcely believed it, Bailey dropped Lark’s mask onto the ground and smashed her boot on top of it with every ounce of strength in her thick, trained leg.

One stomp.

All it took was one stomp, and the mask Lark held onto as dearly as her lover was in a dozen pieces by Bailey’s boot…

…and so was Lark’s very being.

There was no Lark now. The mask was more Lark than the person wearing it. All she was now was a woman incapable of recalling her own name.

Her real life.

Her friends.

Her family.

Without that mask, she was nothing but a weak war criminal with no memories…

Now Lark was simply a woman who couldn’t hide…

“N-NO!” Lark collapsed onto her knees, staring down at the broken dream of hiding from herself with a deep, searing anger burning up in her eyes, only cooled by a few stray tears dripping down her cheeks. It was over. The last remnant of Her was gone… and Bailey Cluanaire was to blame. “WHAT TH-THE FUCK… I-IS YOUR PROBLEM?” Lark could contain neither the anger nor the despair in her voice. She was going to explode.

If one more nauseating word she didn’t like came from Bailey’s powerful, beautiful lips, she’d rip her throat out!

“Oh, Birdie…” Another few tuts followed Bailey’s admonishment, her face still curled in that disgusting, alluring smile. “I’m not going to just give you what you think you want. Sure didn’t work that way for Pigeon our first time~.” Even after performing such an act of awful, identity-destructing cruelty, Bailey was still full of sick-making, cocky joy.

Don’t rip her throat out.

Don’t gouge her eyes out.

Do not get that balisong off the shelf and slit her fucking throat.

“Shut up. Shut up!” Lark couldn’t take it. Either her vocal cords were going to give out, or Bailey’s would be ripped out. Her hands grabbed whatever pieces of smashed plastic and crushed steel they could find, clinging to them for a second with Bailey’s boot in view before accepting it was gone.

Nobody would remake it.

Nobody would let her hide again.

Lark couldn’t hide away anymore.

“Come on now, Birdie. Stop focusing on shit you didn’t need.” Bailey’s voice spoke in some strange, creamy cocktail of domineering, cloying, and rationality. “Might wanna look at me while I’m talking to you, you know. I’d hate to have to bring out the whip again~.” After crushing everything Lark was, she still had the nerve to threaten punishment against Pigeon again?

Yet, something compelled Lark to look up. She did. Her eyes, full of rage and confliction in equal, violent measure, locked onto Bailey’s burning, amber pools… and Lark began to see it…

What Pigeon saw…

But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She’d punch Bailey’s nose clean off before that…

“Get a good look and admit it, Birdie…” Bailey stared Lark down harder than ever, smugly bathing in her superiority while grinding the sole of her polished boot against some of the mask’s remains. “I’m better than that bitch of yours ever was. You both need me~.” How dare she? How fucking dare she?

Ruin her mask?

Fuck with her head?

Whip her girlfriend?

Lark was going to fucking kill her!

No embers could stop her.

No screams could paralyze her.

Wannabe. 

Reject.

Stupid little cunt!

Lark stood up in a blind flash, not even able to form a word beyond an incoherent growl of violent fury. She assumed the best stance she could, practically leapt towards Bailey afterward, and made her best attempt at clocking the reject in the jaw. All her strength and more rage than she’d been allowed to feel in years fueled the best punch Lark could muster.

…

It meant precisely jack shit.

Bailey barely had to try and turn the tables on Lark’s speedy yet choreographed attack. Her head dodged to the side before Lark could come close to contacting it, aided by a small, steady step in the same direction. Bailey made Lark miss her big, aggravated attack like it was child’s play. Like bigger, nastier people had tried much worse and failed just as spectacularly.

With Lark stunned for a moment, Bailey let her whip slip onto the floor and replaced it with a firm grip on Lark’s wrist, the cyber-arm below it going for and succeeding in a grab at Lark’s elbow.

Quicker than Lark’s tantrum, Bailey had her arm in a prime position for a counter. Maybe Lark could have fought back. Perhaps another punch with her free arm might have saved Lark from the pathetic, anger-inducing shame of being systematically countered with such ease.

Instead, Lark just stared at Bailey in what was left of her rage… “Fucking do it!” …and accepted her fate…

…

That fate didn’t come. Bailey simply stared at Lark with a smile and kept her in place for her amusement.

Taking her time.

Letting Lark bask in her.

Lark was paralyzed.

“Mh, if I wanted to waste my time hurting you, Birdie…” With every word Bailey spoke, Lark saw it. “...you would have burned alive in the mech she pulled you out of.” With those words, Lark saw it as clearly as she did with Her.

Bailey Cluanaire had it.

The fire in Her eyes…

“B-But I… Why the fuck… You… I?” Lark was puzzled, caught in Bailey’s grip, both physically and spiritually. She felt hot. She felt like she was on fire, covered in ash, surrounded by sparks and embers.

She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe.

Help…

“Gotta clean your ears, Birdie. I want to give you what you need. Maybe even what you want if you’re good~.” Yet more of Bailey’s words sliced through Lark like the boiling hot whip the rej- the rebel captain… used when piloting Her mech suit. “Go on. Tell me what you want.” There it was…

…

…the killing blow to Lark’s psyche…

…

What Lark wanted? What this Birdie wanted?

It was overwhelming. Negative things she deserved and positive hopes she held dear.

Lark wanted to be punished for her sins. Lark wanted to be welcomed by her new, third military home.

Lark wanted to die. Lark wanted to live.

Lark wanted to be loved by Pigeon more than anything in the galaxy…

…more than anything…

…Lark didn’t want to be Lark anymore.

She wanted to be someone else.

She wanted to be herself. A woman with a name and an identity of her own…

Tonight, that wouldn’t be, though. There was only one escape from the storm cloud of rage, confusion, and despair right now. “Please… Please just fucking say it.” Lark, grumbly even still, begged for Bailey to give her what she wanted.

What she needed.

Please, don’t be another fucking game… or neither of them was walking out of this room in the morning…

“Look at you. If you were like Pigeon over there, I might not have even needed to break your dumb little mask…” Bailey fit in a final jeer and a point towards Lark's girlfriend with her one remaining free hand, who seemed not particularly far from a brainless orgasm.

Bailey paused just long enough to unnerve Lark, letting go of her arm to free her from Bailey’s offensive counter... and then…

It happened.

With a smile, a trail of Her wet tongue across Her soft lips, and a perfectly timed, metallic snap of Her cyber-arm’s fingers by Lark’s ear, it was said.

“Spread Your Wings, Birdie~.”

Lark was gone.

Birdie was all that remained.

Birdie’s mind was somehow both unclouded and encased in a thick, soupy fog. This was comfortable, nary a thought in her mind beyond that beautiful woman standing tall above her. A goddess. A seductress.

Captain…

Yet, it wasn’t all there yet. A stray thought lingered. This wasn’t the usual woman, right? The usual goddess staring her down with flames burning in her pupils?

Where was She?

“There we go.” That single thought leaked from her brain when her Captain spoke. Her voice was like a massage to the very deepest recesses of her brain, whatever of it was still turned on, at least. “Good girl. Now…” Her voice paused for a moment, letting a soft, leather-clad hand rub against Birdie’s cheek before another lightly nudged her backwards. “About time you got out of those clothes for me, isn’t it~?” She was right. She didn’t seem to ever be wrong…

Birdie didn’t speak. She didn’t nod. Her empty, enraptured eyes simply stared at Her burning pools and followed Her divine order.

She undressed. It followed little grace and no passion, for neither was asked of her. Birdie’s white dress shirt went first, then a simple pair of black combat pants. As requested, Birdie was down to her underwear in no time at all. She reached behind her chest to unclasp her bra…

“Mh, no. Keep the bra on, Birdie.” Captain’s words were a soothing comfort, joined by Her presence looming closer with a few steps once again.

Birdie did what she was told, leaving the bra while ditching her wet, sticky panties and fumbling out of her cheap, pleather combat boots. As demanded, Birdie was naked as a jaybird, even down to untying her long head of black hair…

…and She seemed more than pleased if Her fiery smile was any indication.

Birdie was never anything too impressive. She wasn’t flat, but her chest paled in comparison to Pigeon’s… no… Valkyrie’s…?

Pigeon.

Pigeon’s tits were always bigger, and that better build extended to muscle definition, curves, and that stupidly gorgeous ass of hers…

Birdie didn’t have nothing going on, though. If her limited memory served, some liked her face, and more liked her own plump, pert ass.

Tight.

The word tight echoed in her head in a few specific voices of a few specific pilots… though their faces seemed to blur…

“That’s much better, Birdie. I just need one last, little thing from you...” Captain’s voice defeated those thoughts in mere milliseconds, and the hand cupping her face from below only made Birdie need Her more. Body and voice. “I’m better than your Handler. I want you to say it, or I’m just going to fuck your girlfriend and make you watch~.” Captain’s order was clear. The threat, which Birdie would have accepted if Captain simply ordered it, was even clearer.

But… could she?

Dumb fucking question, of course she could. Captain ordered it. Captain knew everything about her.

“You’re better than Her…” Birdie blurted it out mindlessly, and Captain’s smile seemed to burn hotter.

“Come on, Birdie… I want better than that.” One of Captain’s cyber-arms traced a sharp, metal claw down Birdie’s back, threatening to cut through her with the same searing heat as Her voice. “Say it like you fucking mean it, or you get nothing.” It was different from Handler. Different from Her.

No.

Different from her.

The claw stung slightly, but both it and Her words enlightened Birdie, even in her intense, comforting fog.

She was better. Truly.

She was more beautiful. She was more cunning. She did in minutes what took Handler weeks.

She was beyond compare. So far above Handler that her former master didn’t even deserve to address Her by rank.

“You’re better than Handler was in every way, Captain.” Birdie was slower this time, eager to get it right and earn the approval of the enflamed temptress above her. What was her reward?

Click!

While Birdie’s glassy gaze was locked on Her face, Captain had already clasped the end of her leash onto the small, plastic ring between the cups of Birdie’s bra. She was harnessed.

More important than that, though?

Captain looked more satisfied than Birdie’s blurred mind could ever remember Her looking.

“Good girl. Now, on your knees.” Captain’s voice was like sweet music to Birdie’s ears. She didn’t even finish and Birdie was already starting to kneel on the cold metal floor. “Waste any more of my time and I might just leave you both like this and fuck with Aoi instead… Got it, Birdie~?”

Birdie nodded. No time wasting. Got it.

On her knees and pleasantly fogged up, all Birdie could do was admire the thick, throbbing cock inches from her face. She didn’t know if Handler had one, but that’s what made Captain so much better.

So generous.

So kind.

While Birdie’s mind fuzzed beyond recognition, Captain looked over towards Pigeon, who looked about ten seconds away from cumming whatever was still active in those brains out.

“Pigeon, stop.” Captain’s words were brief and full of a commanding sense of joy.

Pigeon stopped, of course. As if she wasn’t about to have the best orgasm of her life, her wet hand moved away from her needy cunt. She was beautiful… but Birdie knew she was a competitor, too. A beautiful rival…

Birdie faded again, lost and lust-drunk watching Captain’s juicy dick throb and leak in front of her. But she wasn’t ordered to touch, lick, or choke on it.

She remained empty and orderless. She liked it.

While Birdie basked in emptiness, Captain locked Her gaze on Pigeon, humming for a moment in thought before nodding Her head.

Birdie may have been in empty bliss tonight, but Captain had other plans for Pigeon. The following words made Birdie shudder… before her brain accepted the vacancy of herself and the lack of it in Pigeon.

Birdie was out of it…

Sasha was not…

“Clips Your Wings, Pigeon.”

…

.

.

.

Huh! That was always gonna feel weird, wasn’t it?

Sasha’s mind felt like it had just woken up from some pleasant fifteen-minute nap on a bus. A little groggy. A little raw in the eyes. The whole deal, really. Freaky…

Her muscles were a little sore…

“Ow…”

Her butt was a lot more sore. Guess telling Bailey to cool it with the whipping was a little pointless when she knew her trigger word!

…

Oh, she was wet as all hell down there? She sorta remembered that part. Giving her fingers a lick made that memory vastly more vivid, if still dreamlike. Maybe she could finish that off before Bailey…

“Rise and shine, Sasha.” Bailey was speaking in that kinda cute, kinda hot voice of hers before Sasha could finish that thought. “Did that little job for you… I think I’m owed my pay, hm~?” Oh! Right! How was Larky even doing?

Sasha was a little worried before she was put to… sleep! Bailey was the best choice for this. She was sure of it, but… Hm…

…

Maybe Liz could have done it, too?

…

Eh, but Liz and Lark might have honestly just killed each other instead?

…

Yep, this needed to be Bailey.

“Coming. But you really need to be gentler with the toys! Last time my butt hurt this bad, I could barely sit in Robin's cockpit for a week…” Sasha slowly picked herself up from the bed and worked as hard as she could to ignore the wet, desperate burning between her legs… and the much hotter, red burning marks on her ass.

“I thought I was much gentler than I needed to be. Your pet here was a real pain in my ass to… quiet down~.” As always, Bailey seemed to relish both her control and superiority over everyone Sasha surrounded herself with. “Should have used the taser this time…” She was lucky she was hot… and fucked Sasha better than almost anyone she’d met…

“Girlfriend!” Sasha corrected Bailey as she sauntered her way over to her and Lark, looking down at her girlfriend with a mix of amazement and slight unease. “Wow. You really did it, huh?” Sasha mused, gently running a hand through the mostly blank woman’s hair before looking up at Bailey. “Soooo… the mask worked?” Her eyes then glanced downward at the broken metal and plastic a few feet from the trio.

She really hoped Bailey wasn’t too bad to Lark, even if getting Handler away from them both was the really important thing.

“Did what I needed it to.” Bailey replied with the same coy teasing Sasha always got from her, followed by a gloved hand reaching down for a grab at her marked ass. Ow. But also. Hot. “I think it’s time you did what you needed to, Sasha. Don’t tell me you don’t want to share a treat with your pet~.” Bailey was being a smug ass about it, but she made a valid point!

Vacant or not, sucking a really, really hot domme off with her girlfriend and maybe making out with her a little did sound good right now…

“Kay, but call her my pet again and I’ll tell Liz.” Sasha, channeling some of the energy she’d picked up from Aoi, their radio girl and hacker expert, since coming here, gave Bailey a wink as she kneeled in front of the rebel captain.

She even handed Bailey the handle to her already attached leash, too. Apparently that was on her? Ah, the fun of hypnotic dream states when a weirdo fascist wasn’t controlling them, right?

“Mh, that would really make her mad, you know…” Bailey seemed as concerned with that as she did about brushing her teeth, beaming down at Sasha with smug, confident lust while pulling softly at her leash. “Less threatening me with a wonderful time, more getting me off, Sasha~.” Bailey then turned her dominant glare to Lark. “Birdie, lick it with Sasha. Do better than her, and you might get a treat.” Someone was, deservedly, in love with herself right now.

It was pretty weird to see Lark take a command in this state that didn’t involve violence or fascist gangbangs, though. Bailey smugly told her to start licking, and Lark’s tongue got to work on the tip of her cock. No fuss. No response to what either of them was talking about.

Weird…

Was this consensual? Mostly! Sasha could bring up issues with that after she’d tasted Bailey’s cum. She always did their best couples work while showering, anyway!

Sasha’s tongue got to doing its agreed job, lapping at the opposite side of Bailey’s cockhead with a pleased little smile. This part alone wasn’t new; she and Bailey had a budding sexual “friendship” ever since the rebel captain made her way here as a mercenary.  They didn’t exactly have much in common, but Bailey was a tall, powerful domme, and Sasha was a girl with few limits and, not to brag too much, a pretty outstanding body.

Sasha had experience here. Tasting the warm, sticky pre from Bailey’s tip? That was nothing. Sharing that real estate with Lark wasn’t new either, but doing it while Sasha was sentient sure was!

The slight change allowed Sasha to appreciate and feel for Lark in equal measure. She was beautiful. So, so gorgeous when she was displaying her skill with such mindless pleasure. Every drag and trail along the throbbing tip they shared like a lollipop was performed with a skill baked into her deepest core.

At the same time, Sasha felt guilty. Bailey was undoubtedly tough on her, even if that toughness may have helped Sasha excise a Handler-induced tumor from her brain. Lark didn’t deserve to rot with the UA for months longer in the first place, though. If Liz had encountered them both on the same mission, would she have beaten them both? Saved them both from their hypnotized servitude?

Sasha had borrowed time to make up for… this was just the painful, necessary start. One Lark wasn’t exactly here for, but still!

“Not bad, you two… But I’ve had more than enough foreplay tonight, hm? Impress me~.” Bailey billowed her words with an emphasized pull at the pair’s leashes, and, yeah, she did kinda have a point…

Sasha and Lark followed Bailey’s smooth demand in unison, both of their tongues trailing downwards from her tip to her base, albeit with more audible sounds of enjoyment coming from the former.

“Next time… you’re gonna eat me out for this…” Sasha spoke between soft flicks of her softer tongue. She kept up a steady little pattern with Lark too, moving their tongues up, lingering for a few moments, then bringing them back low enough to get a taste at Bailey’s thick base and soft, heavy balls.

As far as Sasha remembered, this wasn’t unique for the pair. If they were bad on a mission, they usually needed to work a few mechanics or pilots like this. A nice change from doing it to the barrel of a gun, though!

“Mh, am I now~?” Bailey toyed with her birds via yet another leash pull, intentionally driving Lark down against her boot to earn the girl’s first moan of the night. “Next time your precious pet isn’t going to hide behind whatever this is. She’s more boring without that mouth of hers~.” She was a smug ass, but, again, not exactly a wrong one.

There was something uniquely addicting to Bailey. Like a sweet bottle of liqueur or a pill slipped into a glass of said aforementioned drink. It would have been freaky if she weren’t so hot…

“Fine… But only because I like hearing… her voice, too…” Sasha relented, but only because she missed the dulcet moans of her girlfriend being of the sentient human variety… “Huh!” Though, as she ended up getting surprised by, not all of Lark was lost to the comforting fog…

When Sasha made a move to take the head of Bailey’s dick inside her mouth, Lark pushed her away with a shoulder nudge, taking it for herself and leaving Sasha to work her tongue along the rest of the captain’s phallus.

Sasha’s memory may have still been exceptionally spotty, but she remembered her and Lark’s competitive streak plenty. She remembered always winning those matchups too. The destined best to Lark’s second best…

…

Maybe Lark earned a win this time!

“Mph… That’s it, Birdie. Show me what that mouth can really do.” Bailey seemed more than happy to play along with Sasha’s scheme to grant Lark victory, keeping a firm grip on her leash while the cyber-arm beneath pushed ever-so-not-gently down on her head.

That was one way of winning!

“Mweh…” Sasha was pushed low by Lark, who, in an arousingly impressive display of her nonexistent gag reflex, pushed her head down to take every inch of Bailey’s thick, juicy cock down her throat. No dick for Sasha… Sad, but Lark deserved her win!

With nowhere else to go and an oral fixation to satiate, Sasha’s tongue swept down to Bailey’s balls, giving up on the main event in a fashion that seemed to draw confusion in Lark’s eyes… 

Odd...

Regardless, Sasha’s tongue worked around those orbs in another unintentional rhythm with Lark for a bit, coaxing out a few sultry moans from their domme when Sasha alternated between suckling away on each individual nut.

That’s how it went for almost a solid minute. Lark deepthroating away in a real trance, Sasha worshipping Bailey’s balls in a self-induced one, and Bailey beaming down on them with moans akin to divine music.

“Good girls… Keep going just like that, and maybe I'll let Birdie have a treat~.” Bailey moved a second cyber-arm down to Sasha’s cheek, letting the metal bask in her warmth while they both sated their needs.

Was Sasha disappointed she wasn’t getting a load shot down her throat? Maybe a little. It was nice to see Lark winning, though. She deserved to have that engrained in her psyche after having the opposite piled inside her for years…

Sasha, taking her own win, instinctively nuzzled against the metal hand by her cheek, her gaze turning to the woman next to her. Blissfully unaware, yet intriguingly confused. It was like something deep began burying itself in her mind. Years of being a competitive second best being reprogrammed and replaced by… well… Bailey.

Not as professional an outcome as Sasha’s reprogramming, but, hey, we all gotta start somewhere, right? Drooling all over a hot, fiery rebel captain’s massive dick was a more consensual start than they both got last time! Dubiously!

…

Yeah. Chat time after this.

“Thaaat’s it~...” Something just as important from their captain first, though. “Alright…” Bailey spoke through a few gratified moans while pulling herself away from the two. “I have places to be soon. Why don’t you two make it quick, fingerfuck yourselves, and beg for it~.” Bailey didn’t need to be any clearer than that. The hand holding Lark’s leash let the handle fall to its wrist so Bailey could slooowly edge her pulsing cock for the two.

Naturally, both of the two birds had their fingers desperately toying with their wet cunts as soon as that order was given. Little would have stopped Sasha from doing it by now, and Lark looked happy not to have to choke on a gun barrel for permission first…

Wow. The fact this was such an improvement was a little sad… Sasha should take Lark to one of those double dates with Ina after this…

“Please, Captain…” Regardless, Lark got to begging before Sasha could even roll her eyes and give a somewhat half-hearted effort of her own. It sounded every bit as genuine as it ever had with their Handler, too.

“Pleaaase, Bailey!” Sasha, still having some slight lingering competitiveness inside her, begged with a bit more pep in her voice. Besides, she’d never say no to a facial from a hot woman ranked above her!

“Mh… Please what? Be specific, or you get nothing~.” Bailey toyed with the pair a little bit longer, simpering down on them with only one want in her eyes.

Control.

Sasha's and Lark’s mouths opened at the same time in a fashion that seemed to earn a nostalgic look from Bailey.

“P-Please cum on m-myyyy face, Captain.”

“Cum on my face!”

The tones were different, of course. Lark was dreamily following an order, while Sasha just wanted the hot stuff Bailey was good for.

“Look at that. Should make me this base’s marriage counselor at this point.” Typical Bailey, never missing a chance to poke at what some may even dubiously call her friend. Sasha would! Bailey… might? “I guess you’ve both done plenty tonight to earn it… After you cum~.” Ah, there was Bailey’s condition. Always with the conditions. It was like having sex with a genie if they were really, incredibly hot!

Neither of the birds spoke a word, though Sasha rolled her eyes again. Sasha felt no need to hold back, and Lark couldn't even if she were capable of wanting to.

Both of them hammered their fingers into their cunts with a dire heat to extinguish. When they were close enough, both of them moved to rubbing against their clits with a shared furiosity. You could take the brain out of Lark, but you couldn’t take the symmetry with Sasha, it seemed.

Sasha glanced over to Lark, moments from an orgasm she’d long been deprived of, shooting her blank girlfriend a smile and a wink.

Maybe this could work…

“Wanna… mhah… give me a kiss… Birdie?” Sasha spoke with reverence, but a small, slight hint of commanding power lurked behind her moany words. Baby steps, right? A question that could be framed as a command.

Lark didn’t immediately reply, looking up at Bailey for some sense of approval.

“Well I think you should, Birdie. Might pipe down those moans, at least~.” Delivered with her patented jeering, Bailey gave the go-ahead. See? She did care!

Sorta…

But, with approval gained and a slight spark in Lark’s eye, the two’s faces impatiently crashed into each other. Their lips locked, and their tongues danced with each other in some strange little mismatched tango of competition and love.

Was it Lark’s best kiss? No, not really. She was a lot more active and willing to take control in her full mind, honestly…

But swapping saliva and exchanging spit with Lark never lost its appeal to Sasha. Kissing her beautiful girlfriend was everything, and knowing that it lit up Lark’s eyes just like hers, even in her dream state? That was everything.

“MphHK!”

It was also enough to drive Sasha over the edge, but she wasn’t alone in that. In fateful unison, both Sasha's and Lark’s bodies shook as the sweet, delicious release of orgasm washed over their varyingly present minds. They moaned against each other’s fighting tongues, and bucked against the air like the other was fucking them raw.

For something dubious in its consent and less than dubious in its morality… it was oddly romantic. Sasha did make a concerted effort to avoid coating Bailey’s boot in sticky, warm juices, though. She was a real squirter and not particularly in the mood to go to bed with the taste of boot polish lingering in her mouth…

Ahem. 

Not tonight, at least…

“So romantic. Now open wide for your close-up, lovebirds~.” Bailey did her absolute best to hold back until the two had finished their make-out session, and by the wire, she managed it. 

Sasha and Lark both looked up in the direction of Bailey’s throbbing meat quickly enough to catch well-aimed shot after well-aimed shot all over their faces. Both opened their mouths, Sasha out of love for the game and Lark out of a mental need to do so.

Bailey’s load felt endless, and by the end, both girls managed to look like they’d walked out of some weird bukkake-centric orgy with Aoi and a dozen other girls.

How did Bailey do that again? A stack of… something?

Eh, it wasn’t Sasha’s business to know how the sausage’s salty, delicious cream was made. All she knew was that Bailey and Aoi could give a girl a facial like none she’d met. Maybe Lark was impressed too?

Only one way to find out, right? She almost called for Bailey, but a thought crossed Sasha’s mind…

…could she do it too?

…

If Handler’s exclusivity over it was broken, and Bailey had taken that place…

Was Sasha on that food chain too? Had Lark’s mind been opened up enough? It’s not like their love wasn’t natural, but a lot of what bloomed it was a programmed dependency…

Could it work?

Before Bailey could fit in her next word, Sasha gave it a try.

“Clip Your Wings, Birdie!”

…

.

.

.

Ugh… Her fucking head… Waking up from that dream whatever always felt like waking up with a hangover to Bir-...

Lark.

A hangover where memories of gore, guns, sexual violence, and everything else persi… sted…

Hey. Hang on. What the fuck just happened? She remembered yelling at Bailey. She remembered giving in like the pathetic bird she was… But that wasn’t Bailey’s voice. She knew that smooth, silky tone, and it wasn’t that. It was something brighter.

A ray of sunshine?

It was Pigeo-... Sasha’s. Sasha’s voice.

“Well, look at you, Pigeon. I’ll have you slipping things in girls's drinks before the war ends at this rate~.” Capt-... Bailey was the one to break the silence, looming over the two with a presence Lark still seemed to hold in a new, high regard.

Sasha was quick to notice the light back in Lark’s eyes, going in for a hug that Lark was eager to return. “See? I told you this would work! Though… sorry if Bailey was a little much…” Sasha’s voice was filled with love, success, and a wee bit of remorse.

“I’m not. Gave you far too much leeway, honestly~.” Bailey’s was not.

Sasha did have a point, though.

This… worked?

Lark could still picture their Handler. That image would die with her. But there was no pain in Lark’s heart picturing her. No reverence. No love.

Nothing?

It was like picturing a bad memory, and that was a marked improvement over picturing the devil herself, along with the fondness for the misery she caused… and the state she created.

Everything she represented…

For the first time that she could remember, Lark was able to drown those thoughts from her head and focus on the here and now. Namely, the cum all over her face and the salty taste in her mouth. Guess that was still going to be part of that dream state, even in a so-called healing process.

“I’m fine, actually. Still kind of want to knock Her out, but… Huh.” Lark responded to Sasha and attempted to ignore the taller woman in the room. A tougher task. Guess Handler had to be replaced by something…

Eh, at least Bailey was hot as fuck…

“That’s normal. You get over that!” Sasha responded half-jokingly, resting her head on Lark’s shoulder as a bit of comfort while they awaited Bailey’s next move.

“Mh, sorry, Birdie. I’m already dating a woman who loves trying to knock me out. You’ll just have to settle with her~.” Bailey gave them both a wink, dropping both of their leashes onto the floor and strolling over to collect Her belongings. Namely just the whip and combat suit, the latter of which She didn’t even bother putting back on.

“And where the fuck are you going?” Lark wasn’t exactly impressed with a potential vanishing act. Make a mess of her mind and her bunk without even bothering to help clean it?

Typical.

“Have a date with a much hotter woman than you, Birdie. Nataliza needs her attention too, you know.” Bailey remained as goading as ever. No systemic brain rewiring and hypnotic control over Lark was ever going to change that.

Nor did it change Lark’s growls in any meaningful capacity.

“You’re heading back naked? What if someone sees you?” That was a little rich coming from Sasha, though. She knew what she and Aoi got up to. Certainly knew that Sasha had streaked back from a late shower a few times.

“Lucky them~.” About the response Lark expected from Bailey. Was it the worm Bailey dug in her brain that made Lark agree with Her? Or simply an acceptance that, yes, Bailey was effectively a toned supermodel who happened to pilot mechs. “Until next time.” And there Bailey went, already making Her way to the door before stopping to shoot a fiery gaze in Lark’s direction. “Won’t be hiding behind that little sleep thing next time either, Birdie… Gonna make you scream~.” She seemed to linger, waiting for a last reply.

Lark, of course, was going to give it to Her. “Fucking try me!” She still had some fight in her, but whether that was her or Bailey’s influence was impossible to assess.

Bailey laughed, then made her exit with a trailing, soft humming accompanying her.

That simply left Lark and Sasha. On their knees. Covered in cum.

It was odd. Lark eyed up the pile of plastic and metal formerly comprising her mask… and didn’t feel it…

The despair was gone…

Just like that?

“Sooo…” Sasha broke the new bout of silence, smiling at Lark and getting up onto her feet with a few little pained grunts. Guess that whip was the real deal. “Are you feeling okay? Seriously. Just me and you. I’m actually really sorry about the mask… And I know I kinda pushed you into this…” Sasha’s voice broke into a tone of genuine concern, reaching a hand down to help Lark up while still keeping up a warm smile.

Lark took a second to parse that thought, then took her hand. “Y’know… I think that probably could have been worse…” Lark stood up and faced Sasha with a similar smile, only dampened by the mixture of dried tears and dripping cum surrounding it.

…

Ah, fuck it.

“Wow! Hi!” Sasha was given the shock of her life when Lark, still smiling, took the initiative and pulled her into a hug.

A loving, gentle hug robbed slightly of comfort by the sweat dripping from the pair.

A wholesome hug, if you ignored Lark’s hands resting suspiciously on Sasha’s soft, pillowy ass cheeks.

“Thank you. That was… hard… and I still kind of want to rip Her head off… But… I… I feel better and… Thank you. I love you…” Lark hugged Sasha tighter, and Sasha all but melted into it, letting Lark enjoy a moment of control like it was the only thing she’d ever wanted. “Next time… Aoi, though. I need some time before that again.” Sasha snorted and tried to hide a laugh, and Lark failed not to look ever so slightly annoyed at that.

“I love you too, but… Yeah, Bailey can be… intense. But sometimes I need intense!” Sasha’s warm smile turned into a playful grin. “I don’t need this stink, though. Think we should shower before your big mission tomorrow?” Sasha wore an implying smirk, and Lark knew exactly what she was putting down with that offer.

“Yeah, yeah. Just fucking ask if you want a round two. Or just use the magic words, if you dare.” Lark, with a little more energy than Sasha had gotten to see in a while, lightly jeered her girlfriend, pulling away from her and reaching down to grab enough of her clothes to look at least slightly presentable. Something told Lark the rebels wouldn’t react as kindly to her public nudity as Aoi and Bailey’s.

“I’m saving that for special occasions! It’s Bailey you need to worry about there.” Sasha gave another half-joke and, slight hypocrite that she was, strolled over to the door without so much as her now unleashed bra. “Come on! We can clean the junk up afterwards.” That was what the mask served as now, hm?

Junk.

Bizarrely, Lark agreed. Was that her opinion or Bailey’s? Perhaps it was both.

Perhaps it was Sasha’s.

Most likely, it was all three’s.

“Right behind you. But if someone sees you like that and makes a comment, I’m kicking their teeth in!” Lark followed along with a half-joke of her own. She and Sasha showered, cleaned up the debris that formerly made up their mask after that and slept a few moments later than that.

A good sleep was needed. Lark had a big mission tomorrow.

Her most important mission in this new rebel chapter of her life.

A mission without Sasha. It had to go right. Nothing could go wrong. She wouldn’t let anything go wrong.

…

That was a worry for tomorrow, though. After a sleep.

The first sleep Lark could remember where Handler didn’t appear in her nightmare. Where she didn’t dream at all.

If nothing else, maybe that made the pain all worth it.

…

Until tomorrow…