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A Little Death of Reason

By FwuffyMouse

If Portland could be considered a western Pandora's box, Harperville may as well have been its hinges. Like any set of hinges beyond a reasonable age one can find a fair bit of gunk worked into the spaces between the metal. Far from the true evils and chaos that first escaped into the world, these stray sinful hairs give Harperville its charming and deceptively ordinary culture. It had the usual shiny, clean faces like the corporate hellscapes in blue, gold, red and other colors meant to coax money up into the pockets of billionaires. It had in far greater measure small people living small lives of little consequence to those colorful giants. Maven 'Lefty' Rask was one of those people. He was a colorful fellow in his own right, though 'fellow' would perhaps be up for debate if you judged them by their appearance, being of slim build and soft features that made them fit into too many boxes for the average person to comfortably understand.

On this particular day at work, they'd chosen to wear light makeup to hide the follicles over their upper lip and smooth out the area around their jawline. The same concealer was used to cover the scars along their left arm, following unspoken rules of 'acceptability' among the retail caste. While the job itself was drudgery in the purest form, Lefty found comfort in routine and made certain aspects of the work their own when they could. Silly things like writing names on their stock cart in permanent marker or sneaking snacks around in their vest pockets worked well enough to break up the monotony. They found their coworkers somewhat… less enjoyable. While they got along with the other members of the electronics team, and held a policy of mutual tolerance with their team lead, one particular person always managed to get on Lefty's nerves.

The bubbly, self absorbed idiot in question rolled his pick cart into the area, sending most of the electronics folk fleeing for the stockroom just to avoid being run over. That'd still be less painful than having to actually talk to Jason, according to at least one. There'd be no such luck for Lefty today, as they had to jump out of the way of an oncoming mass of steel and plastic and press their back to the shelves as they called out for the aloof moron to stop.

“Huh? Oh there you are! Geez you're not easy to find. You got keys to the Nintendo case?" asked Jason, peeking out around his cart and shoving a handheld terminal in Lefty's face. The strong perfume Jason wore made their nose itch and forced Lefty to take a step back mostly on principal.

“Personal space, man. I know what game you want. It just came out last week," said Lefty, ducking away from Jason and making their way to the case. They had to put a hand out to their side to keep him from following too close, and made quick work of retrieving the item in question.

“I know, I know," said Jason, rolling his eyes and scanning the game before tossing it into a bag. He twisted his head about like a neurotic meerkat for a moment and bit his finger, then shrugged. "Right, picking. What was next?"

Jason glanced down at his handheld terminal and went glassy-eyed for a moment, seeming to drift a thousand miles away as he read the screen. Confused, Lefty glanced over and saw nothing out of the ordinary; the device simply showed some scented wax from housewares alongside a message stating it was the last item on Jason's pick walk.

“You good?" asked Lefty, snapping their fingers a couple times and watching as Jason shook himself off and produced a lump of cloth from his back pocket. The odd fellow then closed his eyes and inhaled from the rag like it was a cheap cigar before coming back to himself.

“Hmm? Oh I'm peachy!" snapped Jason, finding his smile and laughing at what must have been a joke only he understood. “Hey, you take care, alright?" he said, pocketing the cloth and coughing into his hand a few times. His gaze flicked up to meet Lefty's for just a brief moment before he scurried off.

With the village idiot out of their hair, Lefty returned to their own work only mildly concerned about the odd changes in Jason's demeanor. The brief eye contact bothered them more than what appeared to be a fairly relatable post-traumatic episode. Even when he was directly speaking to people, Jason still always seemed to be looking somewhere else. This wasn't an uncommon attitude for “O-Types" to have though, and their inability to acknowledge anyone but their own was a well known fact among Lefty and their peers. The fact that Lefty had learned the color of Jason's eyes was significant precisely because of how insignificant it was.

The drudgery of the day pushed those worries into the back of Lefty's mind as it wore on. By the time they stepped out into the street and began making their way home they'd all but forgotten the previous nine hours of their life. They had more important things to worry about, like what games they'd play when they got home and how long to play them for. As they walked enraptured by these very necessary musings the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon sugar replaced one craving with another. Lefty drifted into their favorite café and felt as if the baked goods at the counter were pleading with them to tolerate the line long enough to free one of their number. The couple in front of them, while focused only on themselves, spoke loudly enough for anyone to hear. The smaller one was crying into his shirt, clearly struggling with something while his partner fussed over some stray hairs on his neck and face. Lefty wasn't listening, only catching snippets and stewing in their own annoyance.

'It's okay' this, 'they didn't mean it' that. It made Lefty's stomach turn like they'd eaten a kilo of sugar and chased it with some chocolate syrup. 'It's like he's talking to a child', Lefty thought, watching the pair step up to the counter and slide a slip of paper to the barista. She took one look at the slip and passed it to her coworker at the prep station before handing the larger male a cookie. Behind her, her coworkers shared a laugh as they read the order, but this also went ignored by the couple. The two of them stepped aside, though when the larger one moved it looked more like his partner was being dragged along by an invisible tether. Lefty rolled their eyes and stepped up and rattled off a fairly simple order as they pointed out a particularly interesting churro in the bakery case.

“Made these fresh just a bit ago," quipped the barista, handing over the steaming sugary dough stick and gesturing to the pick-up counter.

Lefty simply nodded, leaning against a table nearby and listening in on the odd couple without really meaning to.

“Oh, churros! maybe I should have gotten one," chirped the smaller one, tugging his partner's sleeve. The larger one, the– 'alpha'– looked down and shook his head, gently freeing his clothing from the other's hand.

“No, do you remember what happened last time?" muttered the alpha, giving his 'omega' a stern look.

“I'm good though, I'll be good! Been taking my meds-“

“I said no," hissed the alpha, looking past Lefty to the counter behind them. The omega deflated and fell against his partner, pressing his face into the alpha's shirt and nodding in a way that looked suspiciously intimate. One could liken him to a housecat pressing its cheek to a human they enjoyed being around.

Lefty found their gaze drawn to the odd little guy, in spite of themself. He was wearing far too many layers for what was otherwise a pleasant autumn day. On top, he had a light pastel blue hoodie, unzipped to show an oversized white shirt with a few bleached-out stains. He covered his legs with a pair of thick sweatpants in a dark grassy green that clashed with everything else about his demeanor and outfit. 'It's like he never learned to dress himself' thought Lefty, hearing a name called out and stepping aside so that the big fellow could get by to claim his partner's order. The 'coffee' he delivered to his partner looked more like an ice cream sundae and included gummy bears despite them being a pretty stupid thing to expect a coffee shop to have on hand. Lefty's own drink came out soon after, and they claimed it only to awkwardly hover at the counter while that oh-so-frustrating duo bickered over how many napkins and straws to take from the condiment bar. 'Seriously!? Do they even realize how many people can see them?'

“Kinda cute aren't they?" asked the barista, startling Lefty out of their own head as she set a straw on the counter.

“Huh? I guess, if you like that sort of thing. I keep my kinks private," answered Lefty, taking the straw and tapping it on the counter, then biting into the end and slipping the wrapper off.

The barista shrugged and watched the odd couple, pointing at the larger male and leaning closer to Lefty. “He's actually a sweet guy, and he's here pretty often. The real creeps usually parade their partners around on leashes."

Lefty sighed and slapped the straw into their drink, taking a long gulp of their iced mocha and leaning against the counter. “I know, I know. I shouldn't have said that," they muttered, looking the smaller male up and down again.

“I'm not bothered. Hell, they're not listening either. I can't imagine what it's like for them though," she said, straightening up and joining lefty in their casual voyeurism. The couple eventually moved away from the napkin bar and found a table near the window, settling into a quiet conversation about something. The alpha kept looking around, as though there might be some threatening evil thing hiding under a nearby salt shaker.

“I shouldn't be bothered either. It's not like it affects me," said Lefty, finding a reason to stay at the pick up counter now that they had both a straw and some pleasant company.

“I honestly wish more people thought that way. I get so sick of the jackasses that come in here and tell me how to treat my customers," she said, drumming her fingers on the counter and thinking for a moment. “We should hang out. Can I give you my number?"

Lefty's heart jumped into their throat, but it had nothing to do with the pretty barista's offer. No, for one brief ill-timed moment, the alpha by the window looked away from his partner and directly into Lefty's eyes. He wasn't angry, defensive, or trying to threaten Lefty. He certainly hadn't flagged Lefty as a potential mate, thank the gods. No, there was a deep understanding in the way he looked at the ambiguously-gendered retail drone. In those few seconds of silent communication, Lefty felt pitied. The barista cleared her throat and tapped her pen against a business card, giving Lefty enough of a start that they could tear their gaze away. They took the card and tucked it into their back pocket, quickly murmuring a thanks and scurrying out of the cafe as fast as they could without spilling their drink.

Back at home, Lefty settled into their desk and tapped their way into their PC, firing up a game and settling in for a long evening of doing nothing and enjoying every minute of it. The brief moments between matches left them just enough time to get back into their own head, and they found it harder than usual to pay attention to the game. They even started noticing references to A/o nonsense in their lobby. Duos proudly displaying their symbols as they took the field, A's building forts around their O's and lobby chatter flinging insults their way only to be ignored or rebuffed in a hail of digital bullets. Lefty found themself increasingly frustrated with competing against these teams, eventually just shutting the game off all together and getting up to stretch.

“What's wrong with me?" they thought aloud, sifting through their cabinet for a bag of coffee grounds and pouring a generous amount into their machine. Sensing something off, Lefty sniffed the bag and choked on the stale odor it emitted. They'd need to be tossed, but that wouldn't stop Lefty from getting one last pot out of them before doing so. As they watched the water drip down, coating the crusty pot in fresh liquid gold, their mind drifted back to that damnable couple. “It's disgusting, there's no reason I should be jealous," they said, voicing a deep-held belief that tasted like bile on their tongue. “Who would I even be jealous of!? The little drippy idiot or the guy that has to look after him!?" they said, sweeping their arm out and accidentally flinging their mug to the floor. Cursing and grumbling more rather unpleasant comments, they grabbed a broom and tidied the mess before tossing the remains. They wiped some sweat from their face and rinsed off a dirty mug, setting it near the pot harder than necessary, then checking to see if they'd accidentally chipped the rim.

“What's wrong with me," they repeated, feeling increasingly ill as weak coffee built up in their coffee maker. Lefty poured themself a small serving and topped it off with a generous helping of creamer, then settled back in at their desk. They pressed the mug to their lips and took a mouthful of the overly sweetened bean juice, inhaling the scents of vanilla and exhaling the stress that had suddenly claimed them a moment ago. “I'm being stupid," they said aloud, sipping more of their drink and setting the mug on a well-stained portion of their desk where it would add yet another ring to the wood. Truthfully, Lefty had nothing to worry about. After all, they had their own 'dynamic' to look forward to indulging, and pulled up the familiar black-and-red webpage of their local kink club to check the week's RSVP list. With an easy keyboard shortcut that nonetheless made Lefty feel clever, they keyed in 'GildedClaws' and hit enter. One match, and listed under 'definitely going' to boot. Lefty clicked the option to list themself as such and opened up a new message to their long-time play partner.

“Hey, private room this week? No pen, but I think I want to try something more intimate than usual. Rather discuss in person, but it's something you brought up when we met."

Lefty hovered their fingers over the enter key, counting to three and sending the message off into the void. They knew well enough that their friend would accommodate most requests, and they had four years of near-weekly sessions together ensuring they knew each other's limits inside and out. 'It'll be safe to indulge a little. Just to make sure I'm not going crazy'

---

Saturdays are perhaps the least interesting and productive day of any lazy arsehole's week, and Lefty was usually no exception. They'd intended to wake up and spend half the day gaming before showering and walking downtown. This particular morning, however, was like waking up in a trash compactor, and the early hours were spent clearing out old food from the fridge and hauling bags of empty cans down to the garbage chute at the end of the hall. Perhaps replacing their air filters had been a mistake, as the pollen and dust in their sinuses may have been keeping Lefty blissfully unaware of their home's more foul aspects. It wasn't bad enough to end up on an episode of reality tv, but it was enough to cost a few hours of precious layabout time that Lefty really wished they could have back.

Certainly, there were no bugs or stains anywhere that needed tending, and Lefty's clothes were mostly clean too so there was no need for a laundry run. Their pajamas were a little ripe so they opted to draw the curtains and work in the nude, saving their last clean pair of briefs for their trip out later. By the time noon rolled around they'd managed to get their home into a state they'd be willing to have a guest see, but only certain guests and only if they were feeling comfortable enough themself. Lefty reasoned that all this was simply to ensure that they'd be able to get into the right headspace later that night. Surely not having to worry about the state of one's den would make it easier to let themself enjoy being someone else's prey for a bit.

They briefly considered scrubbing down the shower before hopping in, but decided against it as they were running low on relaxation time by now. Crappy pressure aside, the water always got just hot enough to enjoy a long, thoughtful moment under the shower head. Today though, no amount of warmth felt like enough. They reached back every minute or so, bumping the lever up a bit before returning to scrubbing their crevices with a loofa. Several frustrated taps later they'd maxed the thing out and still felt the chill of the air lapping at any skin that wasn't directly under the faucet. Lefty slapped the valve closed and let out a frustrated (and embarrassing) growl as they yanked their towel down from the rack. They dried off and replaced all the curtain hooks they'd knocked free, then ran a brush through their hair and pulled on their club outfit.

After a bit of struggling with the somewhat undersized garments, Lefty stood before the mirror in a short black tee, a skirt that reached just below their arse and some comfortable socks. For underwear they wore only briefs, relying on the ever-so-mild blessings their estrogen regimen had given them to shape their torso. 'May as well be a shapeshifter' they thought, doing a little twirl and laughing to themself. They brushed their hair again, then paused as an uncomfortable thought struck them. In the mirror, in the outfit they wore nearly every week, they saw a big fat stereotype. 'I may as well have an ? tattooed on my butt,' they thought, setting down their brush and moving to their closet to search for their coat. They hadn't seen anything wrong with their little 'breeder' cosplay before, but they thought back to Jason or the strange couple again as they covered their outfit with the london fog jacket they'd won in the goodwill lottery. There wasn't anything wrong with the way they presented themself at the club, but the last thing Lefty wanted so close to their upcoming visit was to reevaluate their kinks.

They shook their head again, brushing their hair one last time before grabbing their bag off the kitchen counter. If Lefty got to the club early enough they'd have time to watch other couples scene before GildedClaws showed up. They may even have had time to grab a snack on the way, if they hadn't stopped in front of a shop window and spent ten minutes staring at some bouquets and gifts instead. They'd never bothered getting anything for their partner before, but they found themselves stopping to wonder exactly what he'd like. Gil wore a lot of red and navy, but that didn't necessarily mean roses and blue tulips would appeal. Hell, flowers probably weren't the best idea either and they knew their friend was deathly allergic to chocolate too. Lefty shook themself off and carried on, cursing themself for even considering such a thing as it might come across as a payment for their consensual torture sessions. 'Why worry now? It's not like our relationship has changed,' they figured.

Lefty hustled up the alley leading to the Velvet Collar, knocking on the door and entering at the sound of the buzzer. The metal door creaked shut behind them as they fixed the strap on their bag, and they carefully plapped down the ramp on their sandals, stepping up to the counter and dropping a handful of bills onto it.

“Oh hey RaskRatt, good to see ya again," said the gal behind the desk, turning a sign in sheet towards Lefty and counting their money into a cash box.

“Same to you, Pearl! Has Gil checked in yet?" they asked, signing their name and watching PearlescentCuffs take the sheet and peel the line their name occupied right off of it. The club liked to keep sign-ins anonymous, after all.

“You know I can't answer that, but he is here every week," she said, rapping Lefty's knuckles with a pen. “Head on in, check room three," she added with a wink.

Lefty sidestepped through the red door leading into the club proper, cutting across the main area and towards the back hall. They counted doors as they went, then knocked on the door they assumed Gil was waiting behind. Rather than simply opening it, Gil knocked back and sent a blindfold and a purple, faux-leather collar under the door. The collar was their play collar, given to Gil for safekeeping when their dynamic shifted into regular meetings. The blindfold was new, but not outside of their established boundaries so Lefty felt no reason to question it. They took an extra moment to admire the thick cloth before tying it behind their head, mind swimming with the possibilities of what Gil might have planned. With another knock, the door opened and Lefty was led inside by familiar hands that were quick to pull Lefty out of their jacket.

“Love the fit, as always," came the gruff, but warm voice of GildedClaws as he sat Lefty down on the edge of a cot. Lefty heard the door close and the latch click shut, then felt Gil's heat move to his fore.

“Mind if I take these?" offered Gil, tugging one of Lefty's sandals and removing it when they nodded. “So, what's this 'new thing' you wanted to try?" he asked, taking the other one and starting to massage their feet.

Lefty let out a pleased, chipper hum and flexed their toes, needing a moment to find the words between the hits of dopamine they got from being nurtured.

“Two things, actually. You know how we always file blood under 'shit happens'?" they asked, twitching their foot as Gil brushed its arch with a knuckle.

“Ticklish," remarked Gil, chuckling to himself and resuming the massage. “You want me to aim for blood this time?"

“Yeah, if you've got fresh tools, naturally. I'll even chip in for- hey!" Lefty yelped and laughed as their partner dragged something soft along the bottom of their foot.

“That one was an accident, promise. I have clean tools, and I won't accept any of your money, you know that," said Gil, sounding playfully stern as he swapped feet.

“Fair enough. The other thing is…" Lefty trailed off, inhaling deeply and relaxing a bit as Gil worked into their sore muscles. “...Yellow. stop rubbing me for a second. I can't think."

Gil released Lefty's foot and waited, watching the blindfolded sub 'search' the ceiling for their next sentence. They shook their head and sighed, squeezing their hands into fists and releasing them.

“I'll just come out and say it. I'd like you to bite me, like you offered to when we met," said Lefty, running a hand through their hair and fixing their blindfold. There was a very loud silence between them before Gil sat up and put a hand on Lefty's chest.

“I'd be happy to, Maven. I won't be drawing blood with my teeth though," he said. Lefty shuddered as he spoke, feeling unusually small as Gil's voice took on a deep timbre. It wasn't common for him to use their real name, only coming up during aftercare or serious post-scene conversations, never during a negotiation.

“Good, I think that's it then. Same rules as always for the other stuff, no- uh, ya' know. Don't put anything up my butt," said Lefty, measuring their breathing under the weight of Gil's hand.

They felt the dominant nod, then start to pull up their shirt for them. Gil did most of the work, but Lefty moved and bent as needed to ensure the garment would come off and felt it hit the cot next to them. A tug on their skirt told Lefty it was time to lift their rear up so it could be removed, and that was laid in the pile as well. Finally, Gil's fingers tested their waistband and he paused to give Lefty a moment to object, but no such objection came. Briefs too were put into the pile, though there was a second or two extra before the impact. The nude sub could have sworn they heard Gil breathing over the music pounding in the main room. Another inhalation came after, and this one was clearly in the song itself, though. Even if he had snuck a sniff of Lefty's underpants, it wouldn't be any different than Lefty had done in prior scenes.

“Fold those," said Gil, growling the words and turning to shuffle through his duffel bag.

Lefty's heart fluttered a bit as they slid to the floor and started feeling around for their things. They folded the shirt as well as they reasonably could while blinded, but the skirt and briefs proved to be more awkward and ended up mostly just crumpled up. As they tried to smooth out one of the frills in their skirt's hem, a cold strip of leather lightly tapped their backside and caused them to jump.

“Good enough. Tail up," said Gil. He kept the crop against Lefty's rear as they raised it, tracing it around the curves of their glutes and along the crevice between them. “No penetration. How about touching?"

The crop brushed slowly up Lefty's taint, creeping towards their anus. “Touching is…" they paused. They were of two minds, but Gil stopping to wait made the decision easier. “…you can touch," they said. It was a first for them, to allow that particular part of their body to anyone. It was a first for them to do so willingly at least.

Gil ran the crop op over the sensitive, wrinkled spot and pulled it back, then tapped Lefty on their right buttock. They inhaled sharply, bracing just in time for Gil to make good on his warning. A crack echoed off the small room's walls, drowned out by Lefty's pained gasping and the throbbing music outside. Gil tapped them again, twice this time, then whacked Lefty from left to right. They huffed into their arm, shuddering as they pictured the pain diffusing through their body as motes of light. It was an embarrassing trick of Gil's, to force their body to sway and move from side to side as if they were presenting themself like… well, exactly like the omegas Lefty held such disdain for. This carried on for several more rounds, with warnings and strikes alternating along their buttocks and thighs. The final batch of whippings came with no warnings, and only ended when Lefty started whimpering into their hand.

“Checking in, you good?" asked Gil, leaning over Lefty and laying an arm across their back. Endorphins coursed through them, and the limb resting on them felt as warm and fuzzy as their backside did, but Lefty knew Gil wouldn't continue unless they spoke up.

“Yeh, green," they said, steadying their breathing and hissing as Gil dug what felt like a pork-pulling claw into their back.

He dragged the tool from shoulder to ass, then lifted it off and retraced the same lines he'd drawn on the first pass. Lefty twisted and gripped the cot tighter, but still those claws followed the same grooves they initially dug. It stung, then burned and finally hurt enough that Lefty had to slap the canvas just to distract themself enough to keep from making any calls. Gil stopped then, moving to the other side of their back and starting the process over. This time he was able to go longer before Lefty started struggling, reading the sub's body language and pulling back just before any code words had to come out. Gil leaned in again, but Lefty quickly rebuffed him with a sharply whispered 'green' and steadied their breathing once more.

“Impatient tonight," said Gil, running something warm and leathery over the scratches, then flipping that item over and brushing the area with something that felt like a fluffy scarf. This worked rather well to soothe the area, but Lefty registered this as odd as he'd normally just use his hands for cooldown phases.

“Put me under," huffed Lefty, squirming under Gil's hands and swaying their hips.

“Subspace? You sure?" asked Gil.

“Yes, super sure," slurred Lefty. They were already feeling quite lightheaded as a result of the slowly ramping sensations they were being subjected to. Subspace was generally an accident for them, but not something they felt the need to avoid. They'd always tell Gil their favorite scenes were the ones where they got to drift along the waves of endorphins until well into aftercare.

“Okay, I'm still going to be careful, though," said Gil, returning to Lefty's side with a sensory roller in hand and pressing it to their back.

He ran the nubbed, lightly spiked thing over their back, digging it into the raw spots and lightly teasing their nape on each pass. He finished off the cooldown with a long series of hard strokes over the sensitive bump at the base of Lefty's neck, driving the soft young sub into a fit of shuddering and muffled squeaks. They put their hand in their mouth to muffle themself, something Gil might have admonished Lefty for if he weren't so intent on getting them high. The roller went away and the claw came back, burning new lines into Lefty's back and down over their arse and thighs this time around. A hand closing around Lefty's ass dragged a particularly loud gasp from them, as did the feeling of something plastic being held against their anus. 'No penetration!' Screamed the last rational part of Lefty's mind, and indeed if it had come Lefty would have been dragged right back to reality.

Gil knew better, though. He rubbed the handle of his roller against Lefty's hole slowly, steadily moving up and down and dragging the flesh along with it. It had been lubricated, and the gentle pressure and tug as it moved felt heavenly to them. This pushed right against the very edge of a firm boundary, but in that moment it felt like an assurance of Gil's trustworthiness. The dominant leaned over Lefty's back and whispered something into their ear, prompting a quiet little questioning hum from the blissed out enby.

“I said, are you ready to bleed?" asked Gil.

“Please," whimpered Lefty, as if it were the only word they knew.

Lefty heard a growl through the fog in their head, felt the warmth of a body overtop of them and claws pressing into the flesh over their ribs. They felt like prey under a massive beast, with fur and fabric digging into the raw, peeling lines on their back. 'Gods yes' screamed their brain, and Lefty howled as Gil dug his tools into their skin. Slowly, carefully, the dominant drew blood and pulled back to allow it to drip down from the wounds. The warm, sticky stuff barely stood out over the burning in Lefty's own core, and they cursed and babbled fake words into the cot as hot air washed over the back of their neck. Gil said something they couldn't hear over their own begging, and they only got louder the instant something pierced the flesh just above their nape. Whatever tool Gil used further solidified the sense of being preyed upon, as it ground against itself beneath the fatty layers of their skin. He held Lefty between the false jaws and continued punching holes in their ribs. After several long moments like that, Gil released Lefty and helped them up onto the cot, laying their head in his lap and gingerly stroking their chest.

Lefty laid like that for quite a while, hands at their sides so Gil could keep soothing them. It felt right, like nothing else could possibly be better. They even said as much as they regained their ability to speak full sentences, though it was a bit longer before they stopped looping around their thoughts and actually sounded semi-lucid. This was Gil's queue to lower them onto a pillow and get some sanitary wipes from his kit, unwrapping one of them and kneeling beside his sub.

“Oh, wow, those look great," Lefty mumbled, lifting their blindfold and looking over the holes in their sides.

“They do, yeah. I made sure to keep them shallow," said Gil. He kept his voice low, only speaking loud enough to be heard over the music. “Here, rub down that side. I'll do this one. It'll sting."

Lefty took one of the unwrapped wipes and swabbed it over their ribs, wincing and jerking reflexively as Gil worked on their other side. They took a small handful of offered bandages and applied them carefully, poking at them to make sure they were positioned correctly. The two of them did the same for Lefty's neck, though Lefty had to raise their head for Gil to be able to properly care for them.

“Those were some crazy toys," murmured Lefty, yawning and shivering a bit as their body worked through the last of their euphoria. “Felt like I was being chewed up by dogs."

Gil chuckled nervously, handing Lefty a bar of white chocolate from their own bag and watching them fumble with the wrapper. “I was going for wolves, but dogs work too, I suppose."

Lefty carried on struggling, eventually resorting to biting open the candy and accidentally dropping it into their lap. The scent of vanilla and cream rose up from the dropped sweet and graced both their noses at once. Lefty shrugged and tossed the sweet back, struggling to swallow it through their cotton mouth and thumping their chest a couple times. “Heh, oops. Probably should have done water first," they quipped.

“You know, those sweets smell kinda like you," muttered Gil, passing Lefty their pastel blue insulated bottle and propping himself up on a hand.

“What? No way, man. I use neutral shampoos. Store policy where I work," they said, casually sniffing their wrist and frowning. “Well, I must still be loopy, I went real deep into subspace this time. Thanks for that, by the way!"

“Well, it's what you asked for. I always try to make things special," said Gil, yawning and checking his watch. “The club's gonna close soon. You need help getting home?"

“Since when do you have time for that, mister executive? I'll be alright. We both need to get some sleep don't we?" said Lefty. They screwed up their face as if they smelled something gross, then shook their head. “Wow did you hear that? I sound like my coworker, Jay."

Gil furrowed his brow. “Jay? What's he sound like?" he asked, happy to keep his sub talking if it meant they'd have more time to come back to earth.

“Oh, you know. Bubbly," said Lefty, running a hand through their hair and giggling to themself. They frowned again and put a hand to their throat, and Gil could see them shifting their larynx beneath it. They found themself fixated on the sounds their vocal cords were producing.

“You sound fine to me, friend," said Gil, turning to finish packing up his tools. Lefty watched him do so more closely than usual, leaning over the big guy's shoulder and grinding his teeth.

They couldn't see the fluffy or leathery things Gil had used for soothing, but Lefty figured they must already have been put away. Lefty bit their tongue and yawned, carefully standing up and pulling on their clothes. They did so quickly, covering their shame just in time for one of the club's Dungeon Monitors to knock at the door and call out “Five minutes to close!"

“Shoot, let's at least get you outside for some air," said Gil, throwing his bag over his shoulder and offering Lefty their own.

Lefty shouldered their messenger bag and fidgeted with the strap some, then nodded to their partner. They stepped out into the hall and made their way through the main room of the club with Lefty shielding their eyes from the bright overhead lights. The monitors had turned them all the way up to chase everyone out, and the speakers lay silent at the corners of the room as well. Once the goodbyes were said and dom and sub were safely outside, Lefty breathed a deep sigh of relief and twisted up their face again. They sniffed their wrist and shook it like a bug had crawled up their arm, checking their fingers for any signs of the candy bar they'd eaten. Leaning against the wall of the alley, they dug through their bag and shifted sweets from a side pocket into the main one, checking the wrappers as they went.

“You sure you're good?" asked Gil, moving to put a hand on Lefty's shoulder but pulling back when they recoiled.

“What? No, I mean yes! I'm good. Something's just leaking into my bag, I think," said Lefty , turning over a small bottle of perfume and squeezing it gently before tossing it back into the mix. “I'll worry about it later."

They pushed past Gil and onto the sidewalk, looking around like they were lost and pointing towards their route like they'd just discovered the path to some secret treasure.

“I can walk you home-“

“Seriously? I'm fine, Gil, I just need a little space," snapped Lefty, scratching their scalp quite hard as they struggled to orient themself.

They muttered a nearly-inaudible apology before leaning in the direction they meant to go and catching themselves on their own feet. It looked pretty awkward to any outside observer, but Lefty doubted they could have broken away unless they forced the issue. Fifteen minutes into their twenty minute route, Lefty stumbled over the threshold of their studio and pulled the door shut behind themself. 'Oh thank god I cleaned this place' thought Lefty, locking their 'smelly' bag in the nearest closet and casting off all of their clothing… save their play collar, which they'd forgotten to give back to Gil. They ran their fingers over the band and sniffed them, picking up notes of leather and old paper, and feeling their eyes start to water.

“Gil?" they muttered, briefly flashing back to their first offline meeting with the big guy. That wolfish grin he wore as they switched from negotiation to interrogation the first time had remained in Lefty's memory for the four years since. Recalling it so vividly was a shock that brought them to their knees and threw them into a tailspin. Lefty grabbed a fistful of their hair and groaned as a familiar sensation built in their skull. They hadn't had a dissociative episode since leaving university; years of therapy had fixed that. Why now then, and why with such a positive memory? They looked around their apartment, breathing deeply and doubling over in frustrated sobbing.

That damnable sweetness! Vanilla and whipped cream clung to Lefty's body and flooded the air around them like a syrupy fog. They dug their fingernails into their arms and contemplated peeling back their own skin just to prove it wasn't coming from within themself. 'Where is it!?' They thought, looping the words in their mind as they scanned their apartment and rocked on their knees. “Where is it!?" they shouted, blowing the last of the air from their own lungs with the effort it took to speak. They struggled to their feet, stumbling into the kitchen and yanking open drawers and cabinets in an effort to find anything that might be leaking. Every box and bottle was sealed, and they'd already thrown out anything that had expired. Lefty howled unintelligibly, throwing up their hands and slamming a drawer closed before freezing. Something utterly horrible had happened when they straightened up.

Slowly, carefully, Lefty reached behind themself and felt for the source of that disgusting squishing sensation they felt between their glutes. Their fingertips found their anus and the oily substance coating it, and they brought the stuff to their face on shaking hands. Clear, slimy fluid clung to their digits and dripped away in strands as they spread their index and forefinger. Lefty stared at the stuff with wide eyes, spinning lies in their head that fell apart like the strands of slick falling away from their fingers.

'Slick… that's what they call it, right?' They thought, sinking to the floor and letting gravity pull them down onto their side. They laid there in silence as realizations hammered every aspect of their weakening psyche. There was no energy left for them to deny what was happening, and they felt as if the entire world had suddenly collapsed in on their head. At nearly thirty years old, Lefty had suddenly lost their 'normal' life for good. Even crying themself to sleep felt like it might just finish them off. They certainly hoped it would.

END.