They’d rigged up the big room in the back of the house into a makeshift Faraday cage. Bunny knew what those were, sort of, but it was an Old Bunny thing, so she didn’t really know what she knew. Just that when Trelle said it she was taken by a need to hang a bunch of metal strips all around the perimeter. Like tinsel! Big, long tinsel. It took time, not that time was something Bunny noticed especially. The strips were shiny, and Bunny loved shiny things. Every time she hung one it would flash in her eyes, like she was being given a mini-trance. It felt like flying. Bunny loved trance; she loved cages too, most of all she loved being bossed around by someone Stronger.

The Man wasn’t Strong, but He had a practiced Will, and it was a long time breaking. Trelle took it very slow and deliberate, she made point of not taking chances: but the longer His sessions went the more Bunny could feel her friend’s constraint and irritation. His torso was a dark, hard-looking mass looming in the diffuse glow of a flatscreen monitor, the only light in the room besides Trelle’s laptop. She’d wanted the windows blacked too. The monitor, at the height of His head, kept His gaze trapped. He stood before it at military attention, naked, hands clasped behind, every nerve in His body stretched. His Cock—blessedly out of Bunny’s view—was agonizingly erect. He had been in pain from It for hours. Bunny crept no nearer the pain than its outskirts, and even that took all the bravery she could muster. It wasn’t much, but at least Trelle didn’t have to hold Him all on her own.

On her pallet in the corner, Bunny hugged herself about the knees. The small room was where they kept her regular cage, but for here she had a different one, an invisibility cage, a special invention of Trelle’s. It was made with invisible wires, so invisible they weren’t even there, but when Bunny was in it she was cloaked, and safe; only Trelle could see inside. Otherwise, cage or no Bunny couldn’t have been in a room with the Man without freaking the fuck out.

A Man’s mind was a deep, dark forest full of terrors. It was no kind of place for a Bunny. That was something Old Bunny hadn’t ever learned, and maybe ought to’ve.

Trelle, sitting at her card-table desk, glanced over. “It’s alright, kid,” she said. “He works for us now, remember. Just gotta let the thought complete.”

Bunny heard herself whimpering. “It’s ok, pal,” Trelle said more urgently. She got up and came to crouch beside Bunny’s pallet. She clucked her tongue and said, “Shouldna let you work yourself so long, huh. Sorry, Bun-bun. Anyway we’re just about to the off-ramp now.” She reached out to touch the magic spot between Bunny’s eyes. “Sleep. I got something special for you when you wake back up.”

“See, what I don’t get? Cuz I seen yer uh, yer diploma in there, yer whaddayacall …”

Of course you saw it, Maddie thought. Daniel meant it to be seen. Had it done up as a first-anniversary present. Nobody in his own family had an advanced degree.

“… doctorate,” Maddie prompted under her breath. She shifted impatiently in her seat.

“PhD,” the girl said. “Sociology. Fancy.”

Maddie tried to keep her face composed, but some expression must have leaked out.

“What?” the girl asked sharply.

“Nothing,” Maddie sighed. Like a hawk, she thought, every. little. reaction. “I think it’s a bit vulgar displaying your credentials, is all,” she said after an irritated pause.

The girl snickered. “Who’s displayin the what now?” she asked, looking pointedly between Maddie’s legs.

Maddie reddened. Well I walked into that one, didn’t I? She fought the urge to look down at herself and kept her gaze level; why give the girl the satisfaction? “I like to cool down naked after my run,” she told her. Plain and simple. And she spread her thighs a little wider, because it was her own living room and she was sitting on her own couch and she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Not a big fan of the shaved look, tbh.” The girl had stationed herself on the divan in the opposite corner. “Hubby though, yeah? Likes em young?” She rearranged her legs underneath her, and Maddie winced at shoes on the upholstery. You had to tell her to make herself at home. She had a box of granola she’d filched from the pantry and was shoveling it by the fistful into her mouth. Filthy habit. So now that whole area was gonna need vacuumed.

“Your doctorate, that’s what, five-six years?” the girl asked through crumbs. She tossed the spent granola box to the floor, where it fell onto its side. Join the crumbs, why not, Maddie thought. It was getting laughable. Half the morning the girl—“Trelle,” she called herself— had been traipsing about like she owned the place, poking into this, logging on to that, making Maddie give her passcodes and birth dates and PINs and whatnot, like she thought she was some kind of investigator. Which Maddie’d been putting up with! Meanwhile the house wasn't keeping itself, and all the girl'd done so far was make things worse.

She needed her downtime. Maddie wished the light in that corner wasn’t so bad. Any time she thought to say something to the girl it was like she had to reassemble her in her head out of the shadows, and she’d lose her train of thought. Her choice of clothes didn’t help any, gray sweatpants, gray hoodie, all shapeless and blob-like; she’d be talking straight at you and you could still lose track where she was. It was irksome and it wasn’t fair. Here Maddie was fully naked and the girl wouldn’t let any part of herself be seen.

“I dunno. Long way round, seems like. I mean, for a piece of paper and a house in fuckin breederville.”

Maddie blinked. For a weird moment she thought there’d been someone in the corner. Shadows over there playing tricks. Maybe a micro-dream. There was nothing to see but an old empty granola box, which now she’d noticed it she couldn’t unsee. “Why’s he gotta leave em on the floor,” she complained to the air. Whatever sexy little bubble Maddie’d been riding a minute ago had popped, and left no trace. Might as well go pick it up, she told herself, unless you think you’re gonna get off staring at cereal.

Her body felt like lead. “I musta went too hard on my run this morning,” Maddie told herself.

“Run, yeah, gotta watch out for that.” Trelle’s back, she thought. The girl was above and behind Maddie. Had she been away? Maddie’s sense of fatigue deepened. “Hi Trelle,” she sighed, going for cheery, “make yourself at home.”

Trelle didn’t say anything, just stood there. Feeling scrutinized, Maddie glanced down apprehensively at herself, and reddened. Well if I had some warning, she thought. She wasn’t a machine, she couldn’t just switch it off. “Um—” she paused to steady herself, “I like to uh, I usually zone out on the couch and masturbate after my run.” Her breath came short, as if she’d been discovered doing something illegal. “It’s like my ritual. You don’t, you don’t mind if I …”

Trelle waved a hand. “You do you,” she drawled. “Literally.” She gave Maddie’s crotch a look-over. “Nah, I was just wondering why you wouldn’t, you know, slide a finger on up in there, give yourself a treat. Not just make it all about the clit.”

Maddie nodded up at her. “You think?” she asked. She was absurdly grateful for Trelle deciding to be cool with it. “Thanks Trelle,” she sighed, shutting her eyes and opening to the penetration, “I think that does feel better.”

“Hey lookit what I found,” Trelle said, plopping something flat on the couch next to her. Maddie was preoccupied trying to find her rhythm. “Stashed away in the closet of all things.” She sighed and opened her eyes for a look.  So I guess now we’ll go through the mementos, Maddie thought. Can’t a girl keep anything to herself? What was the big interest even. It felt like Trelle was just looking to get some kind of rise out of her.

“Go Prairie Dogs,” Maddie said dubiously.

“Let’s see.” Trelle bent herself over the back of the couch and started paging. “Index in here anyplace, or …” “In the back,” Maddie said, “before the ads.”

“Big school,” Trelle murmured. “Me, I never went. See, maiden name … Clubs, what— Oooh,” she all but squealed. Looking extremely amused, she found the spread. “Oh see now that’s the ticket! Fuck that doctor-missus shit, this is something we can work with.” The book dropped back open to the cushion.

That finger was really starting to get Maddie going. If only Trelle could manage to can it for a coupla minutes. Or possibly make herself useful and PICK UP her husband’s damn granola box like Maddie wanted. Instead she was bent forward poring over the club pages again, side-eyeing Maddie periodically, talking under her breath about this one and maybe this one like it was a diner menu, and it was so tedious Maddie could’ve screamed. When was Daniel getting back? Date night tonight, she had stuff to do. Wasn’t it time for them to maybe wrap this whole interview up?

“This one,” Trelle said, tapping her finger. “This one’s givin me the look.” She thumbed her way to the senior portraits. “Oh I’ll say,” she said, and propped the book up to give Maddie a view. “Go on take a look, tell me I’m wrong.”

Right away Maddie recognized little Mary Grace’s portrait. Always “little” in her head, for some reason. She hadn’t thought of Mary Grace in years.

“You liked her,” Trelle said. Maddie’s finger hit a spot and she gasped. Of course she liked her. Sweet girl. They had a freshman crush on each other. Technically she guessed Mary Grace was her first kiss.

The day had curdled somehow. Maybe it was the yearbook coming out, maybe she was just finally fed up trying to cum,— but Maddie felt icky, and depressed, and she needed a shower. “Listen, Trelle,” she said, trying to ignore how bad her pussy was throbbing, “it was real— ah, real nice of you to stop by—”

“Yeah yeah date night,” Trelle said, “we been over it.” She made a face and muttered, “Way you people live. Don’t worry,”  she said, picking the yearbook up with it closed around her finger, “we’ll have you ready. Wouldn’t wanna make you miss out on your breeder appointment.”

This empty fucking box though. Maddie made a circle with the fingers of her free hand and pressed the space between her eyes. Her head was swimming. “How ya doing over there?” Trelle asked. Maddie couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.

“Oh ya know, just keepin that pussy warm,” she said. Maddie felt so slack she could barely form words. Date night tonight.

“Check it out,” Trelle said. The TV screen flashed. “Oh, look,” Maddie cooed. Little Mary Grace. “How’d you get her on there?”

“Know what, whyn’t you go ahead stick that second finger in now.”

“What? Oh.” Maddie glanced between her legs. “Sorry Trelle.” She watched it enter, then settled her head back with a brief, high-pitched sigh. “Does that like, make it stronger or something? Do I brainwash faster this way?”

“Pretty much.” Trelle had taken a stool from the kitchen that she lugged over to the front of the couch. Elbows on her knees, she sat with her back to the TV, careful not to block Maddie’s line of sight. She yanked a thumb at the screen. “Your favorite, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Little Mary Grace. Always “little” somehow. She felt a strange welling-up of emotion looking into Mary Grace’s eyes. A kind of pity for her, like, poor thing, you shouldn’t have to see this. This isn’t for you. Maddie wished she could stop her fingers for a minute, just to collect herself. “I’m sorry—” she started to say, not sure who she was talking to.

“Your favorite, right?” Trelle said again.

Her favorite. Yeah. Pay attention. Stop losing focus. “Yeah I jerk it to her all the time.” The words came out all at once, like they’d been pushed. Maddie’s hand was pounding her now. Her face was even hotter than her snatch.

“How’s she your favorite?”

The portrait’s bland formal smile turned mocking, carnal. Fuck little Mary Grace. Prissy whore. “She was this real innocent type? I pretend I’m corrupting her with my pussy.”

I masturbate to girls and I will jack off in your face any time I feel like, Maddie told the portrait. It felt terrific, owning that. Owning her sexuality like that. Her pussy was absolutely quivering.

“Welp, four outta ten, but it’s a start,” Trelle said. Maddie whined, desperate for Trelle to hear how bad she needed to cum. The girl reached over to the couch and picked up the yearbook. “Lotta hotties in here, huh? Lotta little wild times. What say we make a few memories.”