"And then they had an amazing orgy, really debauched, and Oran especially had a good time, got to fuck Violette a whole lot, what a great way to wake up!"

Nope. What actually happened was, my buddy the doorframe came in clutch while I watched Violette ride Eric for all he's worth, couldn't look away from that, but when everyone but me was done having a good time, I said adieu and stumbled downstairs to make a cup of tea.

* * *

As I rattle around the kitchen, I yawn and hope the faint headache I've got coming on won't get worse. I'm lucky to be awake. Last time things got that crazy I was out for a good 24 hours afterward.

That was a big fight with Jett too, unsurprisingly. I brought an older woman (hot, MILF-y) back to the apartment with me. He happened to be home early from a bad date and completely freaked out. Worse, she bought into his little tantrumn about my age; I hadn't done enough work on her. Had to subdue them both. I didn't even get to fuck her!

Maybe Jett will be less of a thorn in my side now, with Violette's help. I plop a strong-smelling lapsang suchong tea bag into an oversized mug and check the kettle. There's more water in it than last night, so someone's used it. They've all been up and about, then. My uncle loves green tea in the morning "for his metabolism." I wonder how sore he was when he woke up on the floor. (He wouldn't question why he was there; people's brains seem to smooth over that part.)

After my tea is done, I sit cross-legged on the couch drinking it, along with a bowl of cereal. Their house is well-stocked, much less diometrically opposed than the food back at our apartment, where there's a constant war between health food crap and junk food. I don't even like junk food that much, but it's funny how much Jett hates it.

I'm done with my cereal but still nursing the tea when I hear the sound of delicate feet and rustling skirts coming down the stairs. Violette appears from the hall wearing one of the many voluminous babydoll dresses from her closet. Her cheeks are still hot from vigorous activity, but she's otherwise neat and tidy. She's freshened up.

"Hey, pretty girl," I say, though it sounds kind of hollow to my ears. I feel like overcooked jerky, okay?

She walks over to me and silently gestures "Up!" at my mug of tea. Confused, I raise it, and she settles into my crossed legs like a cat. It does make feel the way you do when a finicky cat decides to have a cuddle with you over anyone else. I put my mug down on the table by the couch and wrap my arms around her waist.

"We can just do this whenever now, huh?"

"Mmhm."

"Sneaking around is sexy, but this has perks." I drop my chin to the top of her head and enjoy the slight musk of her skin, underneath the floral hair care smell.

"Yeah. They can just watch if I need it."

"I have noticed you get off on that."

"Why wouldn't I...?"

"Some people would get embarrassed or want to cover up."

Violette goes silent and tips her head to the side for a long time. Finally, she just says, "No."

I don't laugh at her, because she might take it the wrong way, but that's enough effort to make my headache flares up. Goddammit. At least the strange empty feeling she gives off is almost comforting when I'm this drained.

"Glad we cleared that up," I say once the initial throb of pain has passed. "So, I've gotta go home tonight. Will you survive without me?"

She makes a noise of irritation, I think? A sort of growling mmmrrrgh sound that goes on longer than I expect. The girl is not beating the big wolf allegations any time soon.

"Sorry, but you have to go to school too, right? You graduate in, what, two or three months?" I run my fingers through her soft bleached hair to soothe both of us.

"In June. Not soon enough. I hate school. I'll miss you now too, so it'll be worse."

Aw, you hear that? I think I've got a chance with this girl! "You just gotta be strong. Besides, I've got classes until May, so it's not like I'd always be free even if you were."

The grumpy noise comes back. I pet her with two hands to smooth her down.

"Will you come by after school tomorrow?"

she asks.

"I've got a class until 4:45 Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, so, like... you're gonna have to wait."

"You should come at 5:30 then. I'll tell Daddy you want dinner. Jett can come too..." She doesn't sound too excited to add that last part.

"Ha, okay." Laughing even a little makes me wince in pain, but I continue once it passes. "Try to survive until then."

She hops off of my lap, which is honestly a relief as my legs were starting to fall asleep--oh, no, she's back, but straddling me this time. At least she's supporting her own weight now. Her face draws close to mine, until her serious eyes are most of what I can see.

"You were sick last night and still sound off. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, well..." I look to the side, but there's nowhere to escape when she's this close. "I've got limits, y'know? It's like running too hard one day and feeling like shit the next. I'll recover."

"Can I help? Can you get some energy from me?" She leans even closer until our foreheads donk together gently.

"Uh, probably not?" It's a ridiculous idea, but this whole weekend has been ridiculous, so, "I could try."

"Try, then." She rests her hand on my back, then moves one of her hands up to the nape of my neck. I close my eyes and enjoy it. Her fingertips run over the little curls there cautiously, like they might be burning hot.

"You can touch my hair," I say in amusement, once I realize why she's hesitating.

"Daddy said it's rude."

"Not for my girlfriend," I say without really considering my words. But... she is my girlfriend, right? Partner in crime? Evil mistress?

"Little sister," she corrects.

I'm in too deep to even mind how weird that is. "Meimei," I try instead.

"Oh!" I can't see her expression, but I imagine she's smiling. "That wasn't bad. I'll help you with the tones."

Glad my reading while we hung out on the couch yesterday paid off. The tones are definitely going to be the hardest part, so it's good I have her to teach me.

Eyes still closed, I reach back and snap open my hair tie, freeing my ponytail. "Go wild, just be gentle. It gets tangled easily."

"I'll be really, really careful," she promises. "I'll try to give you my energy now."

"All right..."

I'm not exactly optimistic, but as she sweetly starts to stroke my hair, I take a deep breath and give it my best shot.

People's minds are metaphors: each one is a lake, or a forest at sunset, or a breezy beach, or a cloudy one where the water's too cold to swim. Some minds feel consistent over time, others are different from day to day. Jett's reminds me of a foggy field filled with beehives. None of them are like Violette's.

Her hands in my hair ground me in reality, but I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a hole in the middle of the world. There's nothing above me, or to the sides, and when I look down, that's even worse. The nothing waiting for me there gapes open like a hungry mouth. There's the sensation of a hiss against my skin, and I'm not sure if it's Violette's breathing or something inside her.

If I dive into nothing, how will I get back? Especially when I'm weakened. But we're so close together, and physical contact does make it easier, so can't I just... reach a mental hand in and see what happens? She is willingly offering me a taste of her strength.

It sounds like a good idea, until my searching hand finds something solid, only to realize it's another hand. One that grabs my wrist and pulls me into the darkness with merciless force.

* * *

How long do I fall? Time tends to stretch when I'm deep in someone's mind, the way dreams that last an hour can feel like a life story. I only know that there's nothing I can do but wait. Whatever stops me will stop me.

There's no ground to impact--I simply stop falling, eventually. No longer does it feel like I'm face forward, headed for impact. Instead, I'm curled up on my side, suspended by something. The sensation of a gripping hand is gone, leaving me almost lonely in its absence. There's nothing but absence now, inky blackness as far as my mind can perceive. Violette's hand on my hair is a distant memory.

Until that's not true anymore. Her hands are back, everywhere on my body, invisible, too numerous to count. They're soft at first, like her hands really are. Arousing, even, and I start to shiver and get hard as they caress me. That changes when one of the hands presses in so hard that its nails scratch me. Like a school of sharks sensing blood in the water, they're all out for a piece of me then.

It's not real, it's not real, I remind myself, but the sensation of chunks of my body being torn away is vivid enough that I struggle to believe it.

There's nothing left when she's done, I'm just a ghost, and the wet noise of my flesh being devoured is the only thing my senses can cling on to.

But that's not true. I'm tied to something, some sort of cold metal table, arms pulled over my head to the point of discomfort, my ankles locked in place too. I sense that Violette's on top of me, the pain replaced with pleasure, if only in fleeting bursts. Her voice, indistinct as a half-remembered song, fills the room with whispers until the garbled mess overwhelms me.

Love me and hurt me tattoo themselves into my skin, leaving pinpricks of blood behind. I try to bargain with the voices, telling them I can do both, treasure her too, whatever she wants, but I'm too quiet to be heard above them. Eventually, I lose so much blood that my consciousness starts to fade away, and the vignette fades away too.

I brace myself for the next onslaught. Is this some sort of... trial? Her mind seems to be testing me for doneness before consuming me, if nothing else.

After some time passes, out of nothing, something finally appears.

A... woman? Not Violette. A bone-pale redheaded woman. Distant enough that I can't make out much more than that, other than the fact her petite and curvaceous silhouette rings a bell.

As she turn towards me, I'm struck by three thoughts in rapid succession, each of them more concerning than the last:

That's Violette's mother.

I don't want her to notice me.

She is looking my way because she has noticed me.

Despite wanting nothing more than to move, I'm frozen in place as she takes her time strolling up to me. If Violette's a wolf who'd like to be a house pet, this woman is a tiger that's never known a cage. I truly hope she's just a fragment of Violette's bad memories, but I don't think she'd feel so powerful if she is.

"What's such a cute little boy doing in one of my daughter's minds?" she says as she draws close to me, and there's at least four things I hate about that sentence, plus the way she says it makes a fifth.

Her manicured hand takes a hold of my face, and though she's shorter than me, I sense that I'm being towered over nonetheless. Her blue eyes, crowned by long, almost-blonde eyelashes, are impossible to look away from.

"She's helping me," I say, though nothing in me wanted to answer her question, directed to some "boy" I don't see around here.

"That's sweet. What an interesting find." Her pointed nails dig into my chin, the stippling pain tingling in an erotic way that makes me nauseous. "Don't let her use you up. I'd like us to meet one day."

She opens her hand and releases me like a fish that's been plucked off a hook and tossed back to fatten up. I gasp for breath. A singing chorus of protective hands and arms, each calling Oran, wraps around me in a crush, hiding her mother from my eyes and pulling me up, up, and out.

* * *

"Oran?" Violette says, back in the real world, as I pull my forehead away from hers. Her concerned eyes really are the same color as her mother's, though the shape of them is more like my own. What a relief.

I swallow hard and blink away the tumult of what I can now perceive was just the last few minutes. Her arms are still around me, her fingers gently wrapped in my hair.

"I saw..." I stop, rub my face with one hand, feel the memory sizzling away like someone's poured acid on it. What did she say? I saw her mother, I know, and the outline of her appearance remains, but what she said... I can only remember my distaste for it. It makes me shiver.

Violette touches my chin, so kindly. So different. "You went really quiet and winced a lot. Did it hurt?"

"No--well, yeah, but not in a real way. I could handle it. It just got weird at the end."

"Weird?"

"Hard to explain. Sorry." I can't stand the idea of telling her, especially when I can't remember what she said. Not after asking about her mom led to all the drama in the first place. Speaking of: "But I think it actually worked?"

"Oh, really?" Violette's eyes light up at that. "You feel better?"

The headache's gone and my exhaustion's been wiped away. Better than wiped away, even; I feel light, almost buoyant with a taste of Violette's power inside me. I bet I could make Jett pass out with one firm squeeze if I tried it right now.

To answer her, I pull her into a kiss. The fear at the end of that fucked-up vision passes away with the taste of her lips and tongue pressed back against mine. Her mind was eager to chew me up, but in my arms, she's as soft and pliable as a lamb about to be served for dinner. I want to make her my puppet in the worst way.

"I wish it was easier to order you around," I say against her mouth. That draws a moan out of her.

"You can just do it. I'll obey you."

I don't doubt her spirit would be with me, but her body's another story. "Even if I tied you up and gagged you and you were the most docile sweetheart ever, I'd have to watch out for your pussy. It's way too distracting."

"Maybe I could tell you to ignore it for a few hours?" She looks at me hopefully as she says it.

I have to make out with her if she's going to wear a face like that. "Later, we can try that later," I say hurriedly before catching her lips again.

After a few heated minutes, I wind up on top of her with our bodies slotted together at the hips. Rocking against her through several layers of fabric causes a pleasant, muted friction that both of us savor--I can see it in the way her kiss-reddened lips part.

She notices me staring, and takes that moment to pull the straps of her dress down and expose her chest.

"You said you wanted to suck on them," she says.

Of course. They're my favorite, I think with a hint of dizziness. Even when she's offering herself unconditionally, she has her teeth in me. I get harder just thinking about it.

Each of her breasts is a perfect soft mound, easy to hide under the shape of my hands. I cover them, feeling their warmth, then drag my fingers down until her hard nipples fit between my thumb and index fingers. So pink and pinchable. I tug at them to see her reaction.

"Nn." A small noise, but worth hearing again. She's louder the next time. Bending down, I keep my promise and suck on one of her nipples while I play with the other. Based on the way she writhes and whimpers, they must be plenty sensitive. Good news for both of us.

After getting my fill of one, I move to the other. She murmurs my name, bringing the back of her hand to her mouth. Something in her face makes me really pull on the swollen, reddened one I was just sucking on. The stuttering gasp she makes at that sounds suspiciously orgasmic.

"No way," I say with a grin. I roll her nipples teasingly with my thumbs as she quivers and catches her breath.

"What? I said they're good." Her voice is cocky rather than shy about orgasming from having her chest played with. I shouldn't have expected any less.

"You're so slutty."

"Maybe. But I'm really wet now, so... don't you want to fuck me?" She lifts her knees up to encourage me, though she presses her skirt down with one hand to keep her pussy covered. How courteous.

"Kinda want to say no just to see what you'd do."

Her eyes instantly go wide and dewy, ready to beg. "You wouldn't. You want it too."

"Yeah, but driving you crazy for a while might be worth it."

She flickers her gaze down between her legs, where her hand's weighing down layers of satin and chiffon. It'd be such an easy thing to turn me rabid for her. Equally as easy to order me.

"Please? I'll make it so tight for you?" she wheedles. "You can cum inside and be as rough as you want."

I grip her raised thighs, enjoying the warmth of her skin and the growing desperation in her eyes. "You say that like they're presents, but aren't those like, two of your favorite things? Sacrifice something."

"I... I won't have sex after you leave tonight. I'll wait. Not even Daddy."

Now we're talking. For most people, that wouldn't be a difficult proposition. But Violette seems almost pathologically horny, to the point where orgasming just makes her want to do it again right away.

"Can you even manage that?" I ask with a laugh. I'm undoing my jeans, though. Either she'll fail and have to make it up to me or manage it and throw herself at me come 5:30 tomorrow. That'll be a hell of a start to the week.

"I promise, 哥哥," she says, with deadly seriousness. Well, if she's swearing on her fetish, I have to believe her.

I push my cock inside her, working by touch alone, focusing on her face instead. Her body makes it too easy. We played the long game, but both of us are at our limit. If she were wearing a corset, everything before this was the unlacing. A hundred eyelets undone for Violette. In actuality, we hardly got undressed. It doesn't matter. I'm the one with the keys, regardless.

I put a hand around her throat again, since she liked it so much the other night. She rewards me with muscle control in her pussy unlike anything a normal girl could do. Our hips sync up until every motion feels like a breakneck yet choreographed dance. I don't believe in fate, but I might change my mind, if it produces meetings like this.

"Tell me when," I gasp out, just a beat before she cries, "Now!" Even there, we're synced. What a relief. Something about it seems completely unreal, but I'm too lost in my release to worry about what. Based on the way Violette's quaking, I doubt she's thinking about anything either.

* * *

The rest of Sunday comes easily. Since I feel better, I get up (after holding her for a while longer on the couch) and make her fried rice out of the leftovers from Friday night. Eric and Jett come down then, for their share; I pick up from Eric that they were giving us some space at Violette's suggestion.

Honestly, her dad's so convenient to have around. I can skim knowledge of what commands she's given to him and Jett quite easily. The ones that he doesn't immediately broadcast. Not like when he thumps me on the shoulder several times and thanks me for helping "take care" of Violette.

"She said you're really good at it, and she's got high standards, you know?" Eric puffs up proudly, and Violette just smiles and nods in the background as if to say "It's true." About the high standards set by Eric's ability or my own, I'm not sure.

"Do we really need to discuss that right now?" Jett says as he fidgets with his glasses.

"C'mon, don't be so uptight, Jett. Oran's a good kid. Don't they do a good job with you too?"

"W-Well, I... they are... quite talented..." Jett looks like he wants to melt into the floor from admitting that he enjoys what I do to him. But the pressure in the room was so clearly against him, he couldn't squirm out of it.

"Aw, thanks, I don't think you've ever said that." I smile with plenty of teeth at Jett, and he visibly swallows. Despite the smoothing over Violette's done, he's still afraid of me. Good. I wouldn't have it any other way.

"But you really don't mind, Eric?" As usual, Jett's worrying at something that's already been solved. "I suppose you and Violette do have a similar arrangement. Nonetheless..."

"Aw, it's no big deal," Eric says. "The two of 'em are just energetic. They're a perfect match for each other, if you think about it, right? Just like we are!"

I repress the eye roll I want to make when red, gooshy, fuzzy feelings flood out of Jett. Ugh, even his positive emotions are gross.

"Speaking of!" Violette says in a sing-song voice. I am immediately distracted from my disgust by a rush of cotton-candy fluff filling my own head. She's just so cute, I think I should get a pass?

"Oh, that's right baby girl, I almost forgot." Eric reaches into his pocket. Violette smirks. I maintain perfect neutrality. Jett blinks in confusion, the last one to understand what's going on.

Once Eric gets on one knee, even Jett gets it. He covers his mouth with one hand to cover a choked noise.

"Oh, Eric, isn't it a bit soon? Oran's going to have to adjust, and Violette's not done with high school yet, we haven't even--"

Eric takes Jett's other hand and squeezes. "Jett. I'm serious." That's all he needs to say to shut Jett up, which is a feat.

"Oh, you're right. What am I saying? I should be saying 'yes.' And I do. I mean, I say yes." Jett's obviously on the brink of tears, while I'm trying not to laugh at Violette behind the two of them grinning ear to ear for utterly self-serving reasons.

"That's what I like to hear!" In an instant, Eric pushes up on his feet and crashes into Jett like a tidal wave, picking him up into a bear hug that might snap someone like me in half. Jett holds up thanks to his eight-pack or whatever. I think they're both crying?

All right, this is getting embarrassing. "Congrats, you two!" I say, then gesture with my bowl of food for Violette to come upstairs with me.

We spend the rest of the afternoon in her room. She says she's behind on content (my fault, I know), so I help her pick out a snippet of a song and she does a 10-second silly little dance to it. Then, I take a photo of her in front of her mostly finished Alienation painting. She stands so her body covers the majority of it, since it's just a sneak peek. I can't understand what's unfinished about it, but she insists it's not ready to be shared. I get that. I haven't told her yet, but I'm an aspiring writer. Sometimes it's hard to let your baby out into the world.

After she's posted, we sprawl out on her bed and listen to music from my "Liked" songs. I offer to listen to her music, but she claims she doesn't really have any favorite songs or artists, not even a favorite genre. She knows short soundbites of songs from social media more than actual music music. Objectively an insane thing to admit, but okay, I can work with it. She bobs her head along to each song like someone's pet lovebird might, so at least she seems to enjoy it. I watch her fondly with my arm over her shoulder.

We just vibe for a while. It's been a long time since I felt so normal and... happy, I guess, is the word for it. Don't get it twisted; it's not like I was miserable! But I can see how superficial the last few years have been. Turns out real human connection can be pretty cool.

It's nice that I'll never have to hear Violette's negative thoughts about me. I've found any relationships I try to build struggle to survive so much insider knowledge. Especially with my identity; people will say one thing but think some real goofy shit. I get tired.

Say one thing for Jett, he gets it. After his family decided a gay son was just too ungodly to deal with, he'd never do the same to me. My dad was the only one who still talked to him out of the whole family, so there was a lot of history there. A better person would be more grateful. I consider telling Violette about this, but she seems really into the song playing, so I let it go. There'll be time in the future.

"What's this girl's name?" Violette asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. It take me a second to realize she means the song.

"Yeah, not a girl actually. They're non-binary too. Though they use she or they. Name's Janelle Monae."

"Ohhhh. Wow, non-binary people are everywhere," she says.

"Not exactly. I've gotta seek them out, especially the non-white ones. We're not exactly raining out of the sky. But it's better than nothing."

"I follow some on Instagram, so they're there too."

I laugh a little at that. "Yes, we've been known to use the internet, just like normal humans."

That makes her go quiet, and I can almost hear the gears grinding away in her mind. I imagine they're pastel and made of candy, prone to sticking and not very efficient.

Another song clicks over before she speaks again. "Do you think you're human?"

"Huh? Yeah?" I almost get offended for a second, my brain still caught on the non-binary conversation, but she obviously means my psychic powers. Once I realize that, I shrug. "I figure I'm just a human, plus. Like an adaptation or something. Maybe we've always been around but kept our mouth's shut. You don't?"

She chews on her bottom lip, then slowly shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I think I might be... I don't know... some sort of monster."

"'Cause of your body?" Hate to say it, but I see what she means. She does things inside her that feel unreal, and then there's her sensitivity, the near-constant arousal. Not that I think she's a monster, but she's more different from a normal human than I am.

She nods but doesn't say more, just slips out from under my arm and lies down, her cheek pressing against my thigh. Before long, her eyes close, and I wonder if she's dozing off. My playlist happened to hit on a long, meandering jazz number, so I wouldn't blame her.

But she's not asleep. She has something more to ask. "Would you not like me anymore? If I was one?"

"Nah." I stroke the side of her neck, imagining her with scales, horns, or one of those little tails with a heart on the end the hentai girls have. "Dating a monster girl sounds sick."

She giggles and bats at my hand, but settles down after a moment. "I think it's more complicated than that... probably."

"Doesn't have to be, or we'll figure it out if it is. You're not scary to me."

The faded image of her mother rises up in my mind--she was scary. Real final boss material. I wish I could remember what she said. At least I can reassure Violette that she's not like her. We're minor villains at best. We'd get purified and become hapless side characters if a magical girl got us with her special attack, I bet.

"Thank you," she says, so soft I almost miss it.

"Anytime, princess." And I mean it.

* * *

"No college sluts tomorrow, okay," Violette tells me very seriously as I'm at the front door, about to leave. Jett's already in his car, but I brought my own a million years ago (Friday), so he can leave without me.

"Just tomorrow? So college sluts are fine on Tuesday, is what you're saying!" I can't help but tease her.

"No!" she cries, the pout coming out immediately. "No no no. Not any of them. I'll be sad."

Can't say I didn't predict this, but I can't let her lay out all the rules without a little pushback. "What about you then? Are you swearing off hookups too?"

"I promised until tomorrow, but, after that, it's different... you know it's different..." She breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "It's too hard to get through school every day without it. I'll die."

I lean down to give her a kiss. "You won't die. But I'm still giving you permission. I'm very magnanimous."

"I don't like any of them like you," she says earnestly after our kiss.

That makes me need one more for the road.