It’s been a week since I moved in.

 

Her apartment was certainly a lot nicer than mine. It was in a modern midrise. It was clean, modestly decorated, and relatively cozy. The spare bedroom had been a home office of sorts, but she moved her computer into her bedroom and gave me that room.

 

I was worried at first when she had the movers take my bed to the dump, but the new mattress she had gotten me was the nicest I’d ever slept on. The new linens were soft and crisp. The new pillow was plush but supportive, but it was comforting to keep using my old one so I did.

 

She had me write down all the toiletries I used: toothpaste, soap, shampoo, conditioner, face wash, etc... She told me she’d take care of them, that she’d just integrate them into her shopping routine.

 

She did the same with food. I felt like I was living in a dream. The pantry was just stocked with all my favorites. Lots of easy meals and staples, drinks, treats, the works.

 

I left most of my kitchen stuff and furniture with Lily. Catherine’s stuff was just so much nicer than anything I had, and so it didn’t make sense to bring much.

 

It was weird, in a lot of ways, I felt like I was living in a strangers apartment. It was so much cleaner, so much more organized, than my old one. That part was certainly nice, but it was also foreign. Most of the things in the apartment were Catherine’s too. I had brought my clothes, some keepsakes, my ipad, my computer, all that kind of stuff but it was almost like staying in a nice AirBNB.

 

Despite all of that, in a lot of ways, it was starting to feel a little like home.

 

Not in one very important way though.

 

Things with Catherine were like-

 

A few years ago I had a roommate that I got in a big fight with and the last 4 months of that lease were so incredibly uncomfortable. We never made up, and just sort of coexisted in an uneasy truce until we could finally leave.

 

Living with Catherine felt a lot like that.

 

She wasn’t mean to me or anything, she didn’t even really interact with me much. We had barely spoken since I moved in. She occasionally asked me if I needed anything but I mostly tried my best to stay out of her way, to not make my presence felt in her space, because it was clear she did not really want me around.

 

There was a weird hostility in the air. I didn’t really understand what was going on. She had bought me this new bed, made sure I had food I liked, made sure I had the things I needed to take care of myself, but it stood in such contrast to her general mood, her energy. She was taking care of me but it felt like it was reluctant. She clearly felt some sort of responsibility for me, but she wasn’t happy about it. I felt like a burden. I felt like a-

 

Like a-

 

Oh god, really? 

 

I felt like an unwanted pet. 

 

Why didn’t she want me? I didn’t understand. Was she not attracted to me? Had I upset her? Was it my personality? The universe couldn’t have been wrong, could it? We were supposed to be soulmates, we were destined to be together. That’s what these marks meant. How could she not want me?

 

For the first time since I moved in, I started crying. I was supposed to be happy. This was supposed to be it. I was scared of what my mark meant, but this was so much worse. I wasn’t even a pet to her, I was nothing, I was just a bother, an unwanted roommate. Why was I even here? Why did this happen to me? What was wrong with me? Why? Why? Why?

 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Oh no, had she heard me? I hadn’t meant to disturb her. I tried to pull myself together “U-uhh yes?”

 

“Can I come in?” she asked, muffled through the door.

 

“O-oh umm, o-okay.”

 

She opened the door. I turned away. It hurt to look at her right now. I had only grown to find her more attractive since I moved in. It was pathetic. She had rejected me completely, and instead of moving on I had only wanted her affection more.

 

“Is it okay if I sit down on the bed with you?”

 

“Y-yeah,” I mumbled to myself.

 

I was cross-legged in the middle of my bed and she sat down on the side of the bed, with her back towards me.

 

She let out a sigh, and I looked up at her. It was in that moment that I realized that I hadn’t ever seen her relax before. We weren’t around each other a lot, but when we were she was always so- I’m not sure the right word... tense, maybe? She was never relaxed, that’s for sure.

 

“I’m- I’m sorry about all this. I don’t know what you were expecting, or what you wanted, but I can’t imagine it was this.” She still wasn’t looking at me but for the first time since we met I felt like she actually saw me.

 

“Oh- I- Thank you. I don’t know what I was expecting either but you’re right, it wasn’t this.”

 

She turned to look at me, her eyes meeting mine for the first time since the cafe. “We should probably try to at least be friends if we’re going to be stuck living together.”

 

I looked down. There it was. Rejection. I wasn’t good enough for her.

 

But-

 

This was something, friends was better than what we currently had. I kept staring at the bed, “I-I’d like that”

 

She stood up. “Wanna watch a movie?”

 

My brain was still smoldering with rejection and self loathing, but at least we were talking now, at least she had acknowledged me, and I didn’t want to ruin this opportunity, so I tried to shove those feelings down and enjoy this. I finally looked back up at her and tried to smile. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Our movie night went fine. We watched Hackers. I told her that I wasn’t sure I’d really get it, since I wasn’t really a computer person, but she assured me that wouldn’t be a big deal. She wasn’t wrong, and I enjoyed it. She told me about how it had been one of her favorite movies since she was a kid, that she was really into computers as a kid and spent a lot of time online, that’s how she found the movie too, through some forums she spent a lot of time on. She seemed a little sad when she spoke about it, but I’m not entirely sure why. She was still keeping me at a distance, even while sharing.

 

Not much else really happened that night. We watched the movie, talked about it for a few minutes, and then she went to bed.

 

I wish I could say that things got better after that, that we began to grow closer, but we really didn’t. At least she was making eye contact with me and occasionally saying hello now. I tried not to let it bother me, I tried not to think about her too much, but I didn’t exactly have much else to do.

 

When I moved in she had told me I didn’t need to pay for anything. That was hard to believe but had been a big relief. I was in between jobs at the moment, and it was nice to not have to push so hard for commissions online.

 

I don’t know when the last time I had a break was. I didn’t really know what to do with myself, which is probably why I spent so much time dwelling on Catherine. I tried to distract myself with tiktok and twitter, and it helped, but it wasn’t exactly a healthy solution. It was much easier than being present though, being alone in this apartment, alone with my thoughts.

 

I had, of course, still been talking to Lily as much as I could. She was busy but still made time for me. It was comforting to still feel some connection to her. She’s tried to get me to talk about Catherine, to talk about our relationship. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that there isn’t really one. I just changed the subject whenever it came up. She didn’t push too hard though. She knows me well enough to know when to leave it alone.

 

I needed to do something to get out of this rut. Something had to change.

 

I haven’t drawn since I moved in, since this all started. Maybe that was what I needed.

 

I probably also needed to get out of bed and put some real clothes on. 

 

I pulled some things out of the clean hamper. It was so nice to have in unit laundry. My clothes even smelled cleaner than I’m used to.

 

As I got dressed I noticed something odd, my bra was tighter than usual. That’s weird, maybe I used the wrong settings on her washing machine. It was a more complicated model than what I was used to. Everything else seems fine, but I preferred my clothes a little loose, so who knows.

 

Oh well, I’m sure it’ll stretch back out.

 

I decided to paint a portrait of Catherine. I wouldn’t show it to her or anything, it was just for me. Maybe it would help me understand her better and maybe if I understood her better I could fix this.

 

I got out my iPad and sat down at the desk she had bought me.

 

I started with a sketch.

 

The way she treated me confounded me. When I didn’t like someone I didn’t go out of my way to do nice things for them and when I did like someone I couldn’t get enough of them. Could she not make up her mind about me? I really felt like she saw me the other night, like we were getting somewhere, but after the movie things didn’t really feel that different. 

 

I erased my sketch and started again.

 

Her ambivalence towards me was infuriating. Sometimes she almost seemed kind of- sad? It was hard to tell with so much space in between us. Was that my fault? Was I really that much of a drag on her life? There had to be a reason she got this mark, a reason we were paired together. That’s how this worked right?

 

This wasn't right either, it was more melancholy than deep depression.

 

I erased my sketch and started again.

 

It had been two weeks. Two weeks I had lived here, two weeks she had been quietly kind to me and loudly ignoring me. What was her deal? The marks couldn’t be wrong, could they? That never happened. It must be me. There had to have been something wrong with me, or I was doing something wrong.

 

This still wasn’t right. She was sharp but inviting, sharp but feminine, serious but caring. None of that came through.

 

I erased my sketch and started again.

 

I heard the front door open, she was home from work. Her ambivalence must have been contagious because I couldn’t tell if I was happy about it or not. I was alone whether she’s here or not and yet-

This was still wrong. 

 

It was all wrong.

 

I erased my sketch and threw my iPad on the bed.

 

I started pacing. She was driving me insane. I wanted her. I wanted her to want me. I felt so ashamed about how much I wanted her to want me. What was wrong with me? It was humiliating to be rejected by her, by the universe. Was I just unlovable? Was this just some cruel joke?

 

I couldn’t do this anymore.

 

I- I had to do something. I had to talk to her.

 

I barged out of my room to find her sitting on the couch on her phone. She looked up at me like a deer in headlights. She was just staring. Good. She should be in shock. I wanted her to feel bad, to feel what I felt.

 

“I can’t live like this! Why don’t you like me? What’s wrong with me? We’re supposed to be soulmates. This is supposed to be destiny.”

 

Wait-

 

Were those tears in her eyes?

 

“Wait… you want this?”

 

Now it was my turn to be in shock, “I don’t know! I mean we’re soulmates right? We have the marks. They’re never wrong…”

 

She looked away from me, “I just assumed…”

 

I walked over and sat down on the couch next to her.

 

“I mean, I don’t know what to make of our marks. I don’t think I want to be your…”

 

God, we hadn’t even talked about that yet.

 

“Pet… but I don’t know, I don’t even know what that means! I don’t even know what you want! We’ve barely spoken. Shouldn’t we at least, I don’t know, try?”

 

She turned towards me and for the second time since we met, I felt like she saw me.

 

“I thought you would be disappointed that you got stuck with me. You’re fucking gorgeous but you got stuck with someone like me.”

 

She thinks I’m…

 

All the anger that had bubbled up melted away, my posture closed up, my face warmed as blood rushed to it.

 

“You think I’m g-gorgeous?”

 

She tilted her head to the side, “Are you serious? Of course I do. Do you not know how hot you are?”

 

I had thought I couldn’t feel any more bashful than I already did. I was wrong.

 

“I umm, I… no??”

 

She giggled in response.

 

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking cute.”

 

I leaned away from her, squirming. Where did this come from? 

 

She was being so-

 

Wait, and I liked this?

 

She looked so mischievous. 

 

The smirk that had appeared on her face faded a bit.

 

“And you want me? You’re not upset that you got stuck with a trans girl?”

 

Something about her tone pulled me back to reality, at least a little bit.

 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you-”

 

I shook my head back and forth slightly.

 

“Why would I be upset that you’re trans?”

 

I watched the tension fall from her shoulders, I hadn’t even noticed it until now. She was relieved.

 

At least, she was for a moment.

 

Now the smirk was back and before I could react, she leaned in and kissed me.

 

Her lips were soft, and the energy behind them was overwhelming.

 

She suddenly pulled away.

 

“Wow- I uhh- umm”

 

There it was again, that mischievous giggle. “Is that all it takes to make you melt? Just a kiss?”

 

“H-hey- I mean… It’s not…”

 

She started to caress my cheek.

 

“Shhhh, it’s okay cutie, just enjoy it.”

 

Her touch was electric.

 

“So cutie, have you figured out what’s going on with our marks yet?”

 

Her impish expression suddenly started to feel a lot more threatening.

 

“W-w-wait what d-do you mean?”

 

Anxiety started to creep up. What did she mean ‘figured out’? Was there something going on? What did that mean? Was something wrong?

 

Was- Was- W-

 

Suddenly I was blanketed in pleasure.

 

“OoooOOooh my god”

 

Wait, what just happened?

 

“Fuuuuuu-”

 

Why did this feel so good? She just grabbed my breast? Wasn’t she saying something? Was she just distracting me? Where did this come from? 

 

Most importantly, why did it feel so fucking good?

 

She was almost kneading my breast, it was a new sensation, it felt incredible though.

 

“H-hey w-what are you d-d-d...”

 

I had been looking off to the side, avoiding eye contact, but the pleasure brought my focus back to her.

 

Our eyes met.

 

Lust.

 

There was no better way to describe it. She looked at me with desire, with passion, with passion. She looked at me in a way that no one had ever looked at me before and it almost felt better than her touch. This was too much. I had never felt more wanted in my entire life.

 

“That... feels... so...”

 

I could hardly speak. Why did it feel so good? I’ve had my breasts played with before, but it never felt like this. I threw my head back in pleasure and moaned. This was ecstasy. This was perfect. She wanted me, she really wanted me.

 

“W-w-why d-does this f-feel so...”, I tried my best to ask her what was going on.

 

“Shhh, no thinking little cow. Just enjoy it.”

 

Little- cow …

 

Did she really just call me that? Why did she call me that?

 

Before I could finish that train of thought, she raised her other hand and started rhythmically squeezing my other breast. The pleasure was transcendent, the sensation unlike any I had experienced before.

 

I looked down to see what she was doing, to see how this could possibly have felt this good.

 

My eyes wandered past her lustful gaze down to my breasts.

 

“M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m,” I stuttered

 

“That’s right little cow, milk,” I felt the smirk on her words, though my eyes were transfixed on my chest.

 

I was drenched. My bra and my top, completely soaked through.

 

She was milking me.

 

That’s what the sensation was.

 

I was being milked.

 

I should have been horrified. I should have been concerned. I should have been worried.

 

But I wasn’t, not in this moment.

 

This felt too good to be wrong. 

 

My thoughts faded away and left only pleasure in their place.