Afterglow and Apathy

Your eyes drift across the popcorn ceiling as your body drifts through clouds of afterglow. Everything feels perfect. The comforter on your skin is weightless silk. The pillow is a cool puff of air. You feel immaterial, existing in that ethereal place between waking and sleep, only this time clouds of pleasure waft through your body. Everything is soft, and warm, and pink, and pleasant. You stretch then groan delicately. The sound is bright and feminine. In this strange dream, you find your thoughts turning to Liam. He's large in your dream, and more of a thought of comfort and strength, than an actual bodily figure. You can see him next to you as you give birth. He would make a good father right? It doesn't matter that you know nothing about him, it feels right.

You take a deep breath, and suddenly you're reminded of your body. Your weight becomes ballast to your dream, pulling you down from the clouds. You're first reminded of the weight of your belly, as it presses on your lungs, shortening your breath. You roll to your side, and shift your hips to relieve the weight, but doing so only seems to drag the rest of your body out of the bliss you wanted to enjoy. You feel fatigued now too. It's not the deeply satisfied type of fatigue either, but rather a heaviness mixed with deep aches and a lack of will. Your hand brushes one of your breasts, which now protests at their recent ****, and suddenly all else falls into place. A full awareness of the waking world, and a full realization of your reckless and depraved fuck. You put your hand to your head, and sit up, grumbling. You start to work your jaw and push something out of your mouth, with your dry swollen tongue. Your musky panties fall in your lap.

"About time you got up." The mans rich voice fills the room, and despite yourself another spark threatens to ignite your loins again. Already they begin to flush hot, and as your thighs rub together, you're aware of something dried and flaky caked on your inner thigh. Your hand goes to your muff, tied and tangled in dried cum. You're not sure how to feel. Part of you wants to wretch. The other part is turned on even more. You slowly heft your nude from to the edge of the bed.

"I'm going to need you leave." Liam states curtly.

Whatever haziness still remains is dispelled. "W-what?" You stammer. You find yourself wracked with all the self depreciating woes from before. You weren't good enough. He hates you. How could you be so worthless. You're not even a good cunt! You feel an urging to beg and to plead, but they're weaker now, as if they've been fucked out of you for the moment. Your heart becomes frantic, but your mind is still sharp.

"My girlfriends, coming. Get out." He repeats. You're startled as he throws your clothes in your lap. "Hurry up."

You scowl at him. "What? Just like that! I need to take a shower."

"Yes, you do." The words sting, and you shrink in on yourself, suddenly aware of how sweaty and gross you are. "But not here." He concludes.

You want to speak up again. Tell him he can deal with it. Threaten to expose his infidelity to his girlfriend, or even just scream senselessly at him. Instead, your throat closes up at his callus treatment, and your face contorts into a silent sorrowful scowl. Despite your intention, you can only form silent meaningless mutterings. You stumble as you try to slip your panties on, and realize that your vision has become wet and blurry. The jeans are next, which are just as hard as before... Maybe harder now since you're not fueled by adrenaline. By the time you're fully dressed tears are streaming down your face, and a moment later you try to leave hastily, ignoring all else.

"Aww come one babe. Don't be like that." He cuts off your rush for the door, standing between you and the exit. "You knew what this was. I knew what this was, and you were a good fuck." The small compliment gives a part of your heart hope as he continues."And if you need to get railed again..." You see him hold up your sisters phone. A new contact entry has been pulled up titled "Master Liam" He slips the phone into your purse, and extends it to you. "Be a good little slut out there."

You try to take the purse but he holds it just out of reach, before snickering, and passing it back to you. He watches you go silently, and a moment later you shut the door behind you. You're back out in the open world again. You wander the complex aimlessly before falling into a seat, sore and out of breath. Your mind keeps passing over the fling again and again, but despite it all, you're numb about the whole experience. You scowl. Or worse. You feel good at the parting compliment. You were a good fuck. Is that what you are now? A good fuck, and a baby factory?

You smile, dreamily. Liam was a good fuck too. You'd been through a few girlfriend... Tabitha, from freshman year. Angela from Sophmore and senior year. Then there was Lillian from college. That woman was a minx, and always looking for something more wild to try. But none of them, not even Lilly, had rocked your world like that. You whimper, and resist the urge to touch yourself at the mere thought. Fuck. What's wrong with you? You shouldn't be enjoying this, whether you were changed by some magical gun or not! And yet... Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Despite knowing your entire self image should be broken you felt nothing but bliss at the memory.

A blue minicoop pulled up, interrupting your thoughts, and you watched as a blond bombshell hopped out. Her steps, and everything about her, seemed spritely. The way her hair tossed in the wind, the bounce in her step, the sashay in her hips. As she made her way towards one of the apartments, you realized this must be Liams girlfriend. You fought back a pang of jealousy. That emotion wasn't you. It was the gun.

With a sudden clarity, you conclude that you can't invite a man to join you on your quest to save Zoe, and change back. Right? If you invite your best friend, you'll probably just turn into his fuck puppet. Hell, if Liam had asked, you would have stayed his barefoot and pregnant house keeper for the rest of your life. You should probably call a female friend... Or maybe one of Zoes friends?

Authors note: This chapter was a bit rough for me to pound out. I didn't have a lot of inspiration, and was just trying to get from A to B. I've got some ideas of where to go from here. If you'd like to see anything, feel free to comment.