If there was one benefit to Charlotte’s mom returning from her business trip, it was that Lauren couldn’t keep her overnight anymore. Charlotte still visited Lauren’s place every day of the weekend—completely against her will, of course—but Lauren had agreed that there wasn’t any excuse they could reasonably come up with that would allow Charlotte to remain there night after night, now that her mother was back.

Of course, Charlotte doubted her mother genuinely cared. Gwendolyn cared about appearances and about status, and little else. But then, Lauren didn’t need to know that. Besides, Gwendolyn probably would throw a fit about Charlotte being gone for nights on end if only because ‘what will the neighbors think about your car being gone from our driveway for so long?’ as if the neighbors paid that close attention.

Sighing, Charlotte arrived home at around 8pm on Saturday evening to the sight of her mom sitting on the couch and typing on her laptop. She’d brought work home again, of course. 

“Hi, honey. Have fun with your friends?”

“Yes, mom,” Charlotte said, scratching at the choker she wore to cover her growing number of hickeys. She wandered over and turned on the TV, flicking it to some reality show, before lounging back in a chair. “Hey mom, do you think we could watch that new show I was telling you about? You know, the one with—”

“Honey, you know I’d love to, but I’m swamped with work right now.” Her fingers clacked on the keyboard the entire time she spoke. “I promise we’ll do it soon, alright?”

Charlotte bit down an angry, sullen remark. She never had time for her daughter, did she? It was always work work work, build up my company bigger and better, show off to the neighbors. Sometimes Charlotte wondered if her mother’s company was more her daughter than she was.

“Fine,” she finally said, getting up. “I’m going to my room.” She had no desire to be around a mother who didn’t care about her.

“Oh, honey, hold on. I’m hosting a fundraiser next week. Make sure you have a good outfit picked for it. And ask your boyfriend to come with you.”

Charlotte gaped. She wanted to scream and rage at Gwendolyn. Seriously? You’re just making me do this? I don’t get a say? What if I had plans? Instead, she said, “B- But that sort of thing isn’t really Damian’s scene.”

“It’s just for one evening. For you, I’m sure he’ll suck it up. And if not him, some other boy. Don’t think I haven’t been paying attention to how much you brag about all the boys being enamoured with you. I’m sure you can get someone to be your date. Just as long as you do. I won’t have everyone think my daughter is some kind of loner.”

Says the woman who hasn’t remarried in twelve years. Charlotte didn’t respond, didn’t trust that she wouldn’t snap and yell at her mom, and instead stormed off to her room. She slammed the door shut behind her, and collapsed on her bed. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced them back. She was strong. She could handle this. It didn’t matter that Lauren was singlehandedly reshaping her life. It didn’t matter that her mother didn’t actually care about her. None of that mattered. 

She was Charlotte Daniels, forever and ever, and she would bear those chains proudly.

~

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” Lauren’s voice purred in her ear.

“Yes, yes, I am, I am Mistress Lauren I am,” Charlotte breathed. Jolts of pleasure kept shooting through her, over and over, as Lauren rolled her hips against Charlotte. Her strap, a sexy purple colour, buried itself into Charlotte’s pussy again and again, and each time it threatened to send her over the edge. Charlotte’s eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy.

Lauren was so good. She was so good. Her fingers, her tongue, her pussy, Charlotte couldn’t get enough. She needed—

Needed—

What did she need?

Charlotte’s eyes flew open. Her entire body was covered in sweat, and her fingers, she realized with horror and embarrassment, were down her pajama pants and teasing at her pussy. 

She was horny. Unbelievably horny. More horny than she’d ever been.

She jolted upright, pulling her hand back and covering her mouth in disbelief. No way, no way she’d been dreaming about that. Calling Lauren her fucking mistress? Not just loving being fucked by her, but craving it? How could her brain have possibly gotten its wires so mixed up? 

Normally she would have just discarded this as simply a nonsensical reverie, a conjuration of the brain with no intent or meaning behind it. Normally that would be easy. Except for the fact that she was insatiably horny right now.

Suppressing a frustrated noise, Charlotte pulled her covers up over herself and shut her eyes, determined to fall back asleep and leave this baffling mess behind. But as the minutes passed, slumber eluded her, and worse—her lust refused to fade. Her clit throbbed, desperate with need. And though Charlotte was as stubborn as they came, her pussy was more so. She couldn’t sleep. This had to be dealt with.

“Fine,” she muttered, repositioning herself and putting her hand back down her pants. Just take care of this and go back to sleep. She began to stroke and touch herself, teasing and pinching her clit just how she liked it. And it did feel good. But touching wasn’t enough. She needed something to focus on, to stoke her lust.

Damian. She could use him. Even if he was sucking at sex right now, his body was undeniably hot. Charlotte imagined him naked, damp from a shower, and redoubled her efforts at her pussy. 

… Why wasn’t this working? Ugh, the ache between her legs was only getting worse the more she rubbed herself. And the more she tried to focus on her mental image of Damian, the more she was filled with disgust and frustration. He was being a terrible boyfriend right now, and he didn’t know how to satisfy her. Goddamnit, did that even matter? Did her sore feelings for him really have to rear their head when all she was trying to do was fucking cum?

Charlotte tried to switch to thinking about past boyfriends, imagining their bodies. But they somehow inspired even less feeling, as simply nebulous relics of the past. God, what was wrong with her? Masturbating usually wasn’t this hard for her! Just think of a guy and touch, easy!

Was this… because of Lauren? Seriously? But she’d seemed genuine when she said she hadn’t been influencing Charlotte’s feelings towards her boyfriend. So then…. Why?

Tentatively, reluctantly, Charlotte imagined Lauren. Her lusty smirk. Her body, covered in pink scales. Her, touching Charlotte, possessively, sensually. A hot blush bloomed through Charlotte’s body, followed by a sharp pulse between her legs. Each touch was heavenly now, a stroke of pleasure so powerful that every one threatened to bluescreen her brain. Gasping, Charlotte thrust her fingers in and out of her pussy, moaning and twitching all over. 

Lauren. Lauren. Lauren. She flooded her mind, just as powerful as she’d been in that dream, just as powerful as she was in the flesh.

Charlotte came, heavy and hard, to the thought of the girl she’d once bullied.

She lay there, in a daze, catching her breath and recovering from the tidal wave she’d just experienced. As her mind pulled itself back together, confusion and shame replaced the pleasure. Why… Why had she done that? Touched herself to the thought of Lauren? More, why had it worked so well? 

None of this made sense. Everything was upside down now. It was all Lauren’s fault.

No, Charlotte thought fiercely, pulling the covers tightly over herself and rolling over. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t worth thinking about anymore.

With that, she finally fell back asleep.

~

Spring break was right around the corner. Which of course meant days upon days of parties, drinking, sex, and driving around town like she owned the place. It was on Friday that Becka made an announcement to the girls at lunch.

“Ryan’s having a pool party. Which means the time has come to get swimsuits!”

Joanna groaned. “But I like the swimsuit I have.”

“No complaining. We are not going to look like loser girls who can’t afford new bikinis. We’re going to go all out, deck our bodies in the hottest, cutest stuff. The boys won’t know what hit them!”

Anxious prickles crept up Charlotte’s neck. She covertly pulled out her phone, texting Lauren. The two had exchanged numbers last weekend, to coordinate better. Unfortunately this meant that no one she knew could ever look at her phone, for fear that Lauren might text her at an inopportune time. No one could know that the loser girl was her contact. There would be way too many questions, then.

C: Becka’s invited me to go swimsuit shopping after school.

L: So? Make up an excuse to get out of it.

C: Come on! They’re all getting more and more suspicious of me being absent every weekend. If I don’t throw them a bone here and there, we’ll both get in trouble.

L: Fair point. Fine, you have my permission to go. But you’ll be coming over to my place straight away after you’re done.

Charlotte resisted the hot blush of shame that came from needing Lauren’s permission to go out shopping with her friends, and tucked her phone away.

“Charlie? You coming with?” Becka asked.

She grinned. “Count me in.”

They got into Becka’s car after school, and headed for the mall. Charlotte kept mostly quiet, letting the other three chatter about bullshit. She was content that way. Their words blended together and washed over her like a gentle wave, soaking through and purging all of her worries. All of the things that had been confusing her lately. Everything that made her frustrated and distressed. 

She loved her girls.

“Charlie?”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“I asked if Damian was excited to see you in a bikini.” Joanna snorted. “Jeez you really are zoning out lately, huh?”

“Oh.” She scratched her cheek. “I guess? I mean, he’s a guy. It’d be weird if he wasn’t excited to see me in a bikini.” Absently, she realized that she didn’t particularly care if she saw him in his swim trunks.

Becka eyed her. “Are you and Damian… okay? Haven’t seen the two of you together much lately.”

Charlotte glanced at her, then pointedly stared out her window. “Yes, we’re fine.”

“You… sure?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Drop it, okay?”

“Shit, okay, jesus,” Becka muttered.

Charlotte was quiet for the rest of the drive to the mall. The girls had taken the hint, and seemed happy to chatter between themselves instead of involving her. I shouldn’t have snapped at her, Charlotte thought. This is just… a lot.

They arrived at the mall, and wandered their way over to a clothing store. Sure enough, plenty of swimsuits were in stock, in preparation for spring break. Natalie squealed in excitement, immediately beelining it to the mannequins to take selfies with them. There was no better opportunity to grow her follower base than with bikinis.

Becka took Charlotte by the hand, pulling her towards a shelf. “Look!” She grabbed a hanger, holding up a cute pink bikini with frills. “This would look great on you, don’t you think?”

Charlotte blinked, and regarded it thoughtfully. “Maybe… honestly, Bec, I think it’d look way better on you.”

Becka’s cheeks redden a fraction. “Really?” She tucked it under her arm. “I guess I’ll try it on. But you have to promise to try some on yourself! You’re still our friend, Charlie. Even if you’re going through some things.”

“I… um, yeah, I promise I’ll try some on.” She hadn’t realized just how much Becka cared. It made her heart do a strange clenching thing she wasn’t used to. “Th- Thanks. Bec.”

Becka beamed.

The girls picked out various swimsuits, and even some ordinary clothes—a hazard of shopping as a group—and finally shuffled off towards the changing rooms. There were two available, and Natalie and Becka volunteered to go first. Charlotte folded her arms, leaning against the wall, while Joanna simply stared at her phone.

“You’re wearing it again,” Joanna noticed.

“Huh?” Charlotte frowned at her.

“That choker. You mentioned last year that you wear it to cover hickeys. You’ve been wearing it every week lately.”

Charlotte tried to push back against the blush that rushed to her cheeks. “Well I—what about it?”

“Just, weird. Considering you and Damian seem to be on the rocks.”

Charlotte didn’t have an answer for that.

Joanna tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s okay if you’re cheating on him, y’know. Bec would understand.”

“What’s Bec have anything to do with this?”

Joanna stared at her. “Come on, Charlotte. You and her have been friends since you were kids. I know that her opinion is the only one you really care about. And I promise, you can tell her things. Even if you don’t think you can.”

The way her words pierced through her made Charlotte freeze, unable to find words. She wanted to deny it all. Even deny that she and Becka were all that close. But—

The curtain to the changing room opened, and Becka posed. She was dressed in the pink, frilly bikini she’d picked out earlier. It hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her bust and adding a delightful highlight to her hips. And Charlotte, for some reason, found herself unable to pull her eyes away.

“Well? What do you think?” Becka asked, tucking her light brown hair behind an ear.

Joann grinned. “You’re not gonna be able to keep the attention off you at the pool.”

Charlotte’s mouth went dry. Her eyes were locked onto Becka’s tits. They bounced in a frighteningly alluring way as she pumped a victorious fist at Joanna’s compliment. Oh my god, stop staring you fucking creep.

Finally, she tore her eyes away, her face on fire. “It- yeah. It looks good. Real good.”

Becka seemed to soak up Charlotte’s praise, even stilted and quiet as it was. 

Eventually it was Charlotte’s turn to try on her selections—or more accurately, the selections the other three girls had made on her behalf. Her face was still warm as she threw on a dark red bikini tied by a string around her neck. She took a deep breath in and exited the changing room.

All three girls smiled and showered her in compliments, and yet it was Becka whose words made a happy shiver go through Charlotte, all the way from her chest to her toes. It was the same story for each of the bikinis she tried on. Finally, when she was done and it was time to put back on her ordinary clothes, she vowed to stop being so damn weird. Whatever this is, you need to fucking quit it, she told herself. You know exactly who you are. Be her.

Charlotte avoided Becka’s eyes the entire drive home.

~

Pulling back, Charlotte wiped her mouth dry of Lauren’s cum. Lauren was breathing heavily, catching her breath from Charlotte’s expert tongue. She pushed her hair back in a distinctly sexy way, and grinned. “I swear, every time you do that you get better at it.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Charlotte replied, smirking. 

Lauren snickered, and then sat upright, patting her lap. Obediently, Charlotte rose and turned— “No,” Lauren said. “I want you facing me.”

Frowning, Charlotte did so, her legs slotting on either side of Lauren’s hips. “We’re not having more sex, are we? I don’t have much time left til I have to go to mom’s fundraiser.” Not that she wanted to be there, but skipping would be way worse in the long run. Sullenly, Charlotte wished she could just stay here having sex with Lauren 24/7.

… Wait, no. No, she wished she could be with Damian 24/7. Yeah. Or… or some other guy. Not Lauren. Definitely not Lauren.

“Don’t worry,” Lauren said. She reached over, digging into her backpack and pulling out… a sharpie? Charlotte’s brow knit in confusion. Lauren grinned mysteriously, and popped off the cap. Slowly, she lowered the marker towards Charlotte’s chest, and began to write.

“Wh- Hey, what are you doing??” Charlotte shivered as she felt the marker trace letters along her right boob. 

“Hickeys are great and all, but I want to mark you in other ways.” Lauren kept writing. “And while you’re probably going to wash this off the first chance you get, I know you’re not going to have time to have a shower when you get home before the fundraiser starts. You’re going to spend the entire evening knowing that my words are on your body.”

Charlotte’s face went bright red. Lauren finally finished, and the word DYKE was proudly displayed across Charlotte’s tits. She capped the sharpie and put it away, admiring her handiwork with a smirk. 

“You fucking suck,” Charlotte muttered, trying to ignore the way her heart was beating faster and faster.

“Actually, that’s your job.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes as Lauren burst into giggles. “Fucking riot. Are you done? I’m going to be late if I don’t get dressed soon.”

“Fine, fine, you’re free to go. As long as that word stays on your chest all night.”

Charlotte wanted to reply with a biting remark, but the words got lodged in her throat. Instead, she silently got up and threw her clothes back on, before gathering her stuff and heading outside.

The evening air was cool, a stark contrast to the heat Charlotte had been experiencing all evening. It was like a cold shower, harshly washing away the hours of pleasure that Charlotte actually kind of liked getting lost in, and reminding her of reality. The one she couldn’t run away from. The one that would always find her, no matter what.

She got into her car, and stared out the windshield into space. She should start the car. She should get driving. Would be barely enough time to get home and get ready before it was time to go to the fundraiser.

Instead, she pulled out her phone and tapped on her browser. The keyboard came up, and her fingers hovered over the keys.

How do you know if you’re

She deleted it.

Charlotte drove home, and got a stern warning from her mother about how close she’d cut it. Charlotte didn’t bother giving an excuse, and simply headed upstairs to get changed. As she stripped out of her clothes, she spotted Lauren’s words still written on her chest. DYKE. Bold. Blatant.

She ignored that, and quickly covered her body in deodorant to mask the sex and sweat as much as possible. Then she put on a dark blue dress, one that went up to the neck, and spritzed perfume all over herself.

There. Time to get this shitty night over with.

Gwendolyn drove the two of them to the fundraiser, babbling the entire time about her company, her coworkers, and other inane shit. Charlotte stared out the window and tried to pretend she was an inanimate object. No thoughts, no desires. A thing that did what others wanted. 

Damian met her there, dressed in a tux. He looked perfectly bland and uninteresting. He smiled, his eyes roving over her. “Wow, Charlie, you look… a- amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“Come on,” Gwendolyn waved a hand. “Let’s get going.”

Damian popped his elbow out, and Charlotte reluctantly put her arm through it. The two followed Charlotte’s mother into the event building. It was expensive and fancy, with gorgeous lighting, waiters delivering wine and hors d'oeuvres, and of course dozens upon dozens of the wealthy and affluent, ready to buy art in the name of supporting Gwendolyn’s new charity.

“This place is… something, huh?” Damian said, his eyes looking around in wonder. 

“Something stupid,” Charlotte muttered.

He blinked at her in surprise. “Not a fan?”

“Of anything my mother does for the sake of her company? No.”

Damian rubbed his neck. “You two don’t get along, huh?”

“Oh, what gave you that idea?” She snapped. She couldn’t help it. She turned away. “Let’s just get loaded on hors d’oeuvres.” And maybe she could sneak some wine. A buzz might help her get through this night.

They wandered through the building. Men and women greeted Charlotte, though she barely remembered who each of them were. She said the right things, made the right responses, and kept the scowl from her face. And all the while, Damian simply smiled and nodded politely. He wasn’t an actual guest. Just a temporary ornament hanging on Charlotte’s arm. He didn’t matter, and so they ignored him.

It was so goddamn taxing. Charlotte found it harder and harder to bother. She avoided people. She hovered near the waiters, sneaking wine as often as she could. It felt good going down, the burn sharp enough to help her forget about everything.

“Thank you all for coming,” Gwendolyn said into the microphone, the din of polite conversation around the room quieting as all eyes turned to her. “As you know, I’ve been a member of this community for…”

Charlotte tuned out. She had no interest in her mother’s bullshit speech. 

“…and with that, let the bidding commence!” Gwendolyn handed off the microphone to a well-dressed moustached man, who began introducing a painting of two boats. 

“Huh…” Damian said, snacking on some cheese. “I didn’t know your mom was so—”

“Can we stop talking about her?” Charlotte said testily.

“O- Oh. Sure, Charlie.”

God, why did he call her that? “Charlotte. My name is fucking Charlotte.”

“R- Right. Sorry.”

She suppressed a sigh. “Let’s just… go to the balcony. Hopefully mom won’t care about me mingling now that I’ve said hello to most people.” Without waiting for a response, she pulled Damian towards one of the several balconies overlooking the city. The two of them settled there, leaning against the railing.

The view was beautiful. This building was situated on top of a cliff, and made for a perfect shot of the city skyline in the horizon. Just below, a forested park slowly faded into a neighborhood of rich, ostentatious houses, which themselves folded into the distant downtown area. Charlotte was struck with an odd urge to photograph the scene. The city lights gave the whole thing a dazzling vibe. Like the stars had lowered themselves to mingle with the buildings.

“So…” Damian began. He shuffled awkwardly next to her.

Charlotte contained a groan. God, she wished she had her vape. “What, Damian?”

“I just…” He rubbed the railing with his thumb, looking… surprisingly sad. “You don’t seem to like me much anymore.”

She froze. “Of course I like you.”

He glanced at her. “You do?”

Did she? “…Why do you think I don’t?”

“You… you don’t talk to me much. I initiate every interaction we have, and you find an excuse to slip away before long.” Shit, he was more observant than she gave him credit. “Plus, we hardly have sex anymore. I remember you used to love it. But we make out for a bit and then you want to do something else. Am I—Am I doing something wrong?”

Of course. Of fucking course it was about sex. Charlotte felt something snap inside her. “God, are you fucking serious? This is just about you getting your dick wet? Christ, Damian, couples don’t have to have sex all the goddamn time.”

He frowned. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant—”

“Really? It doesn’t bother you that your girlfriend hates how you fuck her, how your body’s too big, and you touch her too roughly, how every time you put your hands on her she wants to be somewhere else? That doesn’t fucking bother you, Damian?”

He gawked. “Is that how you feel?”

“Take a fucking hint, asshole,” she muttered. 

“Charlotte,” he snapped. “I’m trying my best. But you don’t seem to want to work with me at all. If I’m fucking up, I’ll change! I’ll do what you want of me! All I want is to be a good boyfriend, and you—god, are you even interested at all?”

She was about to unload into him, but something about the way he said that made her stop short. She remembered the words she’d typed into her phone. She remembered Becka in a swimsuit. She remembered a dream, more tantalizing and real than she ever wanted to admit. 

Are you even interested at all?

“Y- Yes. Of course I’m interested.”

“Really?” He took a step closer. “Tell me honestly, Charlotte. I don’t feel it from you. Do you actually want me?”

“Yes, I do! You’re—you’re the hottest guy in school. Any girl would kill to be your girlfriend.”

“That’s what I’ve heard. But do you believe it?”

“I literally just said it to you!”

“Prove it, Charlotte.”

Fucking really? Fine then. She clenched her jaw, and then reached out to grab his face and pull him into a tight kiss. He seemed momentarily taken aback, but then he melted into her, grabbing her by the waist and kissing back. She clung to him, pressing all the frustration and tension inside of her into his mouth. Kissing with abandon. He was the hottest boy, and she was the hottest girl, and this was exactly what she wanted.

His tongue prodded at her lips, and something faltered inside of Charlotte. She tried to maintain her momentum, but he was too big. His stubble was scratchy, and his fingers were gripping too tight at her waist. No, she told herself forcefully. This is right. He’s right. I can enjoy this.

She pushed against him, meeting his tongue with hers. Everything inside her recoiled away, but still she leaned into him, allowing him to meld against her. She was his. It was simple fact. She couldn’t change it, no matter how much she wanted to. This was just reality. She was a straight girl, and she liked guys, and—

Suddenly, Charlotte remembered the letters written on her chest. 

She shoved him back, wiping her mouth, her heart hammering in her chest. Not out of excitement. Out of fear. 

He stared at her, catching his breath. Then, he chuckled bitterly. “I knew it.” Sighing, he straightened his tuxedo. “I’m going home. Have a nice life, Charlotte.”

She stood there, in shock, as Damian left her all alone. She could go after him. Convince him that that was just a fluke, an accident. Convince him to stay with her. But she couldn’t bring herself to move. 

Because he was right. 

Because she was wrong. 

Because there was something inside her that was different, and it had been there long before Lauren.