An Order

Stacy became aware of Evan's hands helping her to her feet. The moment felt absurd. One second she'd been shouting at him. The next she'd been apologizing for making him upset. Then she'd been horrified by her own reaction.

Nothing about any of this made sense anymore.

"Hey."

His voice was gentle. Too gentle for her to accept. He might have been able to sound like he cared, but she knew he was still the same selfish kid who had magically screwed up her life twice.

"You okay?"

"No."

Her answer came immediately. She watched as Evan nodded.

"Fair."

Stacy pulled her hands away from his and took a step back. At the loss of physical contact, she felt a twinge of emptiness, a longing inside of her. Despite hating Evan for what he had done, it felt good to touch him.

The maid outfit rustled softly as she moved. Just feeling the stupid thing against her skin made her want to scream.

"Nothing's wrong with you," Evan said.

A humourless laugh escaped her.

"That's your diagnosis?"

"I mean it."

He looked tired. Exhausted, really.

"Whatever's happening, it's the potion. Not you."

"Do you honestly think I don't know that? Really? Of course it's the potion, asshole."

Ouch. There it was again. Another shot of pain, just like she'd been feeling. Twinges, not big, but enough for her to notice. What was that?

A hand disappeared into his hair, and he looked at the ground before he spoke.

"I don't think anything about this is easy," he said. "But I think we're in this together. Whatever this is."

For a moment, Stacy wanted to argue. In this together? Only one of them was wearing ruffles and an apron. From where she stood, she was the one having her world changed, not him.

But then she remembered that every road Evan had tried had led nowhere except back to their house. The fact that she'd somehow ended up dressed like a fantasy version of a maid after falling into a closet was just one element in the new magic this second potion had wrought. Maybe they were both trapped in it. Maybe they were simply pawns in this new magical game, each given a role to play, each being pushed toward a goal.

"Thanks," she muttered begrudgingly.

Evan blinked.

"Was that gratitude?"

"Don't get used to it, dickhead."

A sharp pain immediately stabbed behind her eyes.

"Ow."

"What?"

Stacy rubbed her temple.

"Nothing."

The pain faded almost instantly. Was it because she had insulted him? Was the magic taking a new tack to get her to comply?

"Look," Stacy said, trying to stay calm, "I don't know what all of this is, all of these changes, but I'm not playing along. You had your chance to have your Stepford-version of me, and you blew it. Whatever the world says, if you're my employer, or my owner, I'm not having it."

"I'm not asking you to play along," Evan said. "I'm just saying that maybe if we work together, we can figure this thing out."

"Work together?" she scoffed. "Like we worked together the last two times you brought a potion into this house? A little late for teamwork, Evan."

"Fine," Stacy could hear frustration in his voice. Good. He should feel frustrated, after everything he'd put her through. "We're going to have to deal with this eventually, but if you want to leave it, then I'll leave it."

And so they did. For a bit, at least. Evan left the dining room and dropped himself into the large armchair near the window of the living room, the chair that once had belonged to his father. For the first time since Evan had drunk the second potion, she wondered what had happened to David. Was he still living in the house? Was he still a part of their lives? Did he even exist in this reality?

Her heart ached for a moment. She had loved David. Yes, she had loved Evan more, if ever so briefly, but David didn't deserve to have his life rewritten over and over again. He was an innocent. Just as she was.

Stacy began pacing. Thinking. Worrying. The house suddenly felt too small. If Evan wasn't able to leave, would she be able to? What if they went together? Was there something they had to accomplish before they were freed? If Evan couldn't leave, what did that mean for her?

Experimentally, she walked to the front door and opened it. Everything outside looked normal. Normal yard. Normal neighbourhood. Normal cars driving by. She took a step over the threshold, then another...

Gone was the neighbourhood. Gone was the grass. Gone was the sun. Her hand was still on the door handle, but she was now facing inward, walking into the house rather than out.

Turning around, she tried again, this time taking a run at it...

Only to stumble back into the house at the same pace.

Shit.

Okay. Leaving the house is off the table, at least for now. She moved to the hallway, then toward the kitchen, then the living room. She didn't really want to see Evan, but maybe if they went together they could leave. If not, she wasn't sure what was going to happen, what her life was going to look like.

So lost in her worries was she that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going, she caught the edge of a rug as she approached the sitting young man. Her foot snagged.

"Oh, come on!"

The world tilted. She spun. The next thing Stacy knew, she had landed directly in Evan's lap. Both froze.

"Oh for God's sake."

She felt it as soon as she landed. That same shot of pleasure and arousal she'd experienced when they'd touched before. Both thinking about Evan and seeing him felt good, but touching him was on a whole other level. She was tempted to stay, just for a minute, just to enjoy the sensation, but Stacy knew that this was the magic messing with her. If it couldn't manipulate her mind, it would still try to work through her body.

Immediately she stood. Or tried to. She wiggled her way off of Evan's lap, accidentally grinding her rear end into his groin as she did, got to her feet, then lost her balance on her heels. Down she went again. Right back into his lap, this time wrapping her arms around his neck for balance. Again she felt the shot of arousal.

"This is ridiculous."

Evan looked equally horrified.

"This isn't me. I'm not doing anything."

"That's because you've already done enough!"

Another attempt. This time she made it three steps before a sudden dizzy spell hit her, causing her to fall backward, once again spinning and landing on his lap, this time facing him, his face pressed into her breasts. The universe appeared determined to glue them together.

And it felt incredible.

Evan felt it too. Pressing through his jeans and into her backside, she could feel him growing harder by the second. Memories of that morning flooded her mind. Laying in bed with him, loving the feel of his erection in her mouth, loving being close to him, pleasing him. It was all her, but it wasn't at the same time.

Not for the first time that day, she wished she could still be that woman, could still feel that way about the man who she was smothering with her cleavage. But she wasn't, and she couldn't. With her mind returned to her, there was no way she could ever love the man who had stolen her life from her.

"Stacy," Evan said, pushing back from her breasts, his face flush with arousal, "Can you get off? I'm kind of having a hard time..."

"Hard is right," she cut him off, sliding off of his lap and onto the floor, remaining on her knees between his legs. Not because that was where she wanted to be, but because that was as far as she could trust herself to go without falling on him. "Keep that thing away from me, pervert."

Again, she was hit with a shot of pain. She winced. Evan noticed.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't know how to answer that. Tears began to once again well up in her eyes, but she fought them off. He'd seen her cry enough that day.

"I tried to leave," she said, looking up at him. "I'm stuck here too. We both are. Unless we figure something else out, we're trapped in this house together."

"Stacy..."

"I don't know what your new potion did, but as far as I can tell, you own me now. Like I'm a piece of property. I wanted to leave, to get away from you, and I can't even do that. I'm a prisoner in this house. It's like I'm being punished for some crime I don't remember committing. Why couldn't you leave well enough alone? Do you have that much of a savior complex that you had to fix everything?"

"I mean the pain. I know I fucked everything up, but you seem to be hurting."

"I don't think I can insult you."

"What?"

"Watch," she said, resignation in her voice. "Evan, everything would be perfect if you weren't such a self-righteous prig."

Again she winced as a flare of pain washed through her.

"I touch you, if feels good. I insult you, it feels bad. I'm still me, but I'm being trained," she frowned. "Like a dog."

"You're not a dog..."

"Of course I'm not a dog, dickhead!" Wince. "I'm a woman. I should be able to live my own life, make my own choices, live with my own consequences. Instead I'm stuck with your life, your choices, your consequences. You took everything from me, all because your pathetic inability to grow up and be a man!" Wince. "I've always hated that about you. From the moment your dad first introduced us, I knew you were a little worm," Wince. "Unable to make hard choices, unable to work for what you needed. Always waiting for daddy to take care of you, to bail you out. I couldn't wait for you to move out and never have to see you again. And now I'm stuck looking at your stupid fuckface for the rest of my life." Wince.

"Okay, I'm done."

Stacy glared.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This."

He gestured down at her, on her knees, between his legs.

"We both know that this sucks. We both know that it's my fault. But I can't handle this. You hate me so much that you'll even take the pain of insulting me! If I'm going to have to live with you forever, you need to knock off the complaining and try to work with me on how to make this better!"

Her jaw dropped.

"Complaining?"

"Yes."

"You ruined my life!"

"I know!"

"You turned me into... whatever this is!"

"I know!"

"You... you... you complete dipshit!"

Wince.

Evan groaned.

"Just stop it. You're just going to hurt yourself. If I'm such a pain in the ass, then go study the manual and figure out what to do with me!"

The words echoed through her head, over and over again, ringing louder and louder. Looking up at Evan, she could see that it had been a throw-away comment, something said in frustration, something he'd already half-forgotten. But for her, for Stacy, it was something more.

Something intense.

Go study the manual... go study the manual... go study the manual...

She could barely think of anything else. The manual. The Master Manual. Go study it. Figure him out. What to do with him. Study. Master. Study. Study. Study.

"Ugh!" she said in frustration, wanting to clear the noise from her head. She climbed to her feet, successfully this time, and walked out of the room. Into the dining room she stormed, leaving her would-be-master behind, needing space from him.

There it was.

On the table.

The Master Manual.

Study. Study. Study.

Experimentally, she reached out and touched it. Nothing. No shock. No pain. No pleasure, either. But somehow, she knew it was right. Taking a step toward it, she placed her hand on it. Then both hands. Yes. No sensation other than the smooth texture of the binder, but in her soul she knew that it was good to have it.

A moment later it was in her hands.

A moment after that she was walking up the stairs, carrying the tome to the bedroom.

Study. Study. Study.

"God damnit," she swore, sitting down on the bed with the binder in her lap.

She knew it was wrong. She knew it was stupid. But despite being in full control of her mind, her body had other plans. A finger traced the plastic and opened the binder, revealing the first page.

The Master Manual by Evan's Stacy

"Shit," she said as she saw her hands flip the page. She was really going to do this. This was worse than the pain of insulting Evan. This was ****. And despite how much she hated it, despite how angry she still was, despite everything...

She couldn't make herself close the damned book.

It was going to be a long night.