She crooned to me quite literally. She wasn't a blunt instrument any longer, manipulating me in subtle ways or causing mysterious black outs. I could feel her directly and intensely in my mind. She was a part of me, but also distinct and her own entity. Altima had become more of a companion than something I lusted after.

What the clockwork heart was, I couldn't venture a guess. But I could feel it alongside my own, beating a fraction of a second after mine. That was clear, I was leading. Whether that was because she was physically incapable of holding me for long periods of time or not I couldn't say. That was immaterial, however.

After Gerald's departure I stood there breathing heavy and staring beyond the door for a long time, mentally daring him to return so that we could finish our brief but violent encounter. I was angry, the type of red hot anger that bubbles to the surface right after conflict. He didn't return.

I knew my anger was largely unjustified. I wasn't concerned. It felt good. It felt like I was shedding the years of meek servitude I had engaged in. I thought about them and I could feel Altima smile through me, a twisted and terrible expression. Then with one movement of a mental hand she seized one of my worst youthful memories and wiped it clean. It dissolved like a teaspoon of sugar in a boiling kettle.

I calmed and let my own satisfaction shine through hers. I found myself wondering why I had ever feared her. She told me through my own lips that some men are just distrustful of beautiful women from the get go. It made sense and didn't at the same time. I refused to protest.

Still feeling light headed and with hunger bubbling up inside, I decided that I needed to eat something. Returning to my rest room I groomed. It was out of curiosity that I removed the bandages that Gerald had so lovingly applied.

I found my wrist wounds missing. Only a dull ache remained. Frightened, I asked Altima. She laughed quietly.

"You needed a reward. It took courage to do what you did. You needn't suffer unnecessarily."

She said through me. Her voice a female caricature of my own. It seemed mad and it bothered me, but I again refused to protest. It was at this point that I lost the ability entirely. Not out of respect or gratitude, but out of impossibility.

Altima was a kind woman so she eased this discomfort by dissolving memories of my drunken father and his masculine needs in my youth.

I finished grooming and dressed. My outfit was something cobbled out of what I had, but definitely more provocative than what I'd normally wear. By then it was early evening, so we went out to dinner.

It was a strange experience. In town I garnered looks that had thus far been only for Gerald's kind. It felt good to be desired. So I strutted. Altima laughed, saying I was being silly and awkward. She helped by unbuttoning my shirt somewhat and causing my gait to relax. I was behaving "queerly," she told me. I didn't mind the pun.

I stopped at my favorite bistro and took command of a small table. I ate slowly and deliberately, like a machine. I required a lot of my barista. But I was kind, smiled and offered thanks at every turn.

I could feel Altima coveting the woman. She'd innocently move my eyes away from my meal and toward her while the young barista's attention was elsewhere. I didn't see anything particularly interesting, but I could feel my companion flush.

Once she reached out mentally, I could envision Altima's slender arms wrapping around her. The woman twitched and squirmed across the patio while busing a table. My companion smirked through me. This was something that felt wholly wrong, but I complied without question.

The meal and Altima's antics continued. She reeled the barista in slowly, forcing her to gravitate toward me and neglect her other patrons. I struck up conversation with her and the seductress that lived in my head would often add a quip or funny comment in my voice.

I learned that the young woman's name was Wendy and that she was saving up to attend university. She was intrigued by the studies I was engaged in prior to my with drawl from society, but was fairly ignorant of the science behind it. Wendy was nice, if not a bit dull and weak.

This only excited Altima.

It wasn't before too long that I lost control. She consumed wine and dishes that I'd never touch. This seemed to make me sleepy and light headed, but didn't phase her. She complimented Wendy at every turn. It was inevitable that they made plans to meet up after closing.

It didn't take too much courtship to bed Wendy after closing. Whether Altima's influence forced the young barista subconsciously or she was genuinely attracted to my body was unknown to me. But it happened quick and brutally once we were inside her tiny studio apartment.

Wendy seemed hesitant at first, but learned to like it. This only excited Altima to the point of bursting. It felt wrong and awkward, but there was no avoiding it. I was merely a passenger. In that sense I think she raped us both. Me, unable to control my body. Wendy, the poor weak dear, her mind likely invaded by her pushing and terrible influence.

I learned to like her through our experience. Like how two accident victims bond over their common and life altering instances. I admired her beauty while not being sexually attracted to it as she did disgusting things to my body. Altima selfishly gobbled up sensation leaving me feel numb and removed.

I didn't mind.


Newer Post Older Post Home