Let's talk to Jenn!

I moved through the hallway with purpose, weaving between clusters of students with the single-minded determination of a woman on a mission. My cheeks were still warm from the "clock" disaster, but I shoved that humiliation into a box and locked it shut. I had something more important to focus on now.

I had to find Jenn.

Not because—okay, let me be clear with myself here. This was not about wanting Robbie's cock. I did not want Robbie's cock. Robbie was garbage in human form. This was about proving that he was full of shit. That his "best cock in the world" claim was exactly the kind of delusional, narcissistic bullshit that came out of his mouth every time he opened it. I was going to find Jenn, get the truth, and then I'd have ammunition to throw back in his smug face next time he—

God, I love cock though.

The thought surfaced like a bubble in still water. Involuntary. Undeniable.

I shook my head. Focus. This wasn't about that. This was about proving Robbie wrong. That's all. Just... gathering evidence. For science. For justice. For the satisfaction of knowing he was a liar.

But what if he's not lying?

FOCUS, KATIE.

I rounded the corner toward the gym wing lockers, scanning the thinning crowd. Students were filtering toward their next classes, the hallway gradually emptying out as the break wound down. If Jenn had PE next period—which she did on Thursdays—she'd be at her locker getting her gym bag right about—

There. Halfway down the corridor, her dark ponytail swinging as she rummaged through her locker, pulling out a blue duffel bag. Jenn. My best friend. My person. The one who would tell me the truth and put this whole stupid thing to rest.

"Jenn!" I called out, picking up my pace.

She turned, and her face immediately broke into that warm, genuine smile that always made me feel like everything was going to be okay. "Katie! Hey!"

I reached her and we fell into our usual greeting—natural as breathing, comfortable as an old sweater. My hands found her hips first, then slid around to grab the firm curve of her ass through her leggings, squeezing the familiar handfuls as she stepped into me. Her hands did the same, palms spreading across my backside and pulling me flush against her. Our lips met—soft, warm, Jenn's cherry lip gloss sweet on my tongue—and I tilted my head to deepen it, my tongue sliding past her lips to find hers. She hummed into my mouth, her fingers kneading my ass in that lazy, affectionate way she always did when we said hello.

For about thirty seconds, we stood there in the hallway, tongues tangled, hands gripping, bodies pressed together in our standard greeting. Jenn tasted like the mint gum she always chewed before PE, and her ass felt amazing in my hands—toned from all those squats she'd been doing. I gave it one final appreciative squeeze before we broke apart, both slightly breathless, smiling at each other.

Normal. Totally normal. This was just how best friends said hello.

I became aware of a few students lingering nearby, staring at us with wide eyes and slack jaws. I glanced down at myself reflexively—still fully clothed, hoodie zipped, everything in place. Weird. What were they looking at? I shot one gaping sophomore a confused look and he quickly averted his gaze, face red. Freshmen are so weird, I thought, turning my attention back to Jenn.

"What's up?" Jenn asked, slinging her gym bag over one shoulder. She studied my face with that perceptive look she got sometimes—the one that said she could tell something was on my mind. "You seem like you're in a hurry. Everything okay?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. How exactly was I supposed to start this conversation? Hey Jenn, so your ex-boyfriend claims he has the world's greatest penis, can you confirm or deny? Yeah, that wasn't going to sound weird at all.

I opted for the indirect approach.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just—" I leaned against the locker next to hers, trying to look casual. "How are you doing? You know, after... the whole breakup thing. With Robbie. Are you doing okay with all of that?"

Jenn's expression softened, and she reached out to touch my arm. "Katie, you're sweet. I'm fine, honestly. And I honestly never can thank you enough for helping me see through his bullshit. You were right about everything—he's a manipulative prick and I was too blind to see it." She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her brown eyes. "But why are you suddenly bringing this up? That was like two months ago."

"I just ran into him," I said, letting annoyance seep into my voice—which wasn't hard, because the annoyance was very real. "In the hallway. And he was being his usual asshole self, saying all kinds of disgusting things." I paused, trying to frame this as naturally as possible. "And he, uh—he claimed—" God, even saying it felt ridiculous. "He claimed that he has the best cock in the world." The words came out in a rush, and I immediately rolled my eyes to show how stupid I thought it was. "And that all his exes are still obsessed with it. Which is obviously complete bullshit, right?"

I love cock. I love cock so much. If it really is the best—

SHUT UP, BRAIN.

I waited for Jenn to laugh. To scoff. To roll her eyes and say "oh my god, classic Robbie, what a delusional loser."

Instead, Jenn's face did something I wasn't expecting. Her eyes went slightly distant, almost dreamy, and her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. Not mocking. Not derisive. Fond.

"Oh," she said lightly, adjusting her gym bag strap. "I mean, yeah. He does."

I blinked. "He does what?"

"Have the best cock," Jenn said, like she was confirming that water was wet. Like it was the most obvious, unremarkable fact in the universe. "That's why we still fuck when he wants to."

The hallway seemed to tilt slightly. I gripped the locker behind me.

"You—" I stared at her. "What? You still—Jenn, you broke up with him. Because he's an asshole. Because he cheated on you and treated you like garbage. I helped you see that! You agreed with me!"

"Oh, totally," Jenn nodded earnestly, like there was no contradiction whatsoever in what she was saying. "He's a complete asshole. The worst boyfriend ever. We're definitely not together." She said it like the distinction was perfectly clear and perfectly reasonable. "I'm just his booty call now. When he texts, I go over. It's not a relationship thing, Katie. It's a cock thing."

"Jenn." My voice came out strangled. "You can't be serious. After everything he did to you. The lying. The cheating. The way he made you feel like—"

"Katie." Jenn put a hand on my shoulder, her expression patient, like she was explaining something simple to a child. "That was relationship stuff. This is different. His cock is..." She trailed off, her eyes going unfocused for a moment, her teeth catching her bottom lip. "It's just really, really good. You don't understand."

A cold feeling was spreading through my chest. Something wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong here. Jenn's voice, her expression, the way she was talking about this—it was too casual. Too accepting. Two months ago, she'd been crying on my shoulder about what Robbie had done to her. Now she was cheerfully admitting to being his on-call fuck?

"Jenn—"

"And honestly?" Jenn continued, her voice taking on a different tone now—something smaller, self-deprecating. She looked down at herself, plucking at the front of her t-shirt. "It was mainly my fault things didn't work out with him. Like, as a relationship."

"What?"

"I just wasn't sexy enough for him," she said, and there was no bitterness in her voice. Just resignation. Acceptance. Like she'd come to terms with a simple truth. "I mean, I've got a great ass—" She twisted slightly, glancing back at herself with a clinical sort of approval. "—but my tits?" She cupped her B-cups through her shirt briefly, then let her hands drop with a sigh. "Pathetic. They're pathetic. Robbie needs more than this. He deserves more than this. I couldn't give him what he needed, so of course he looked elsewhere."

The cold feeling in my chest had spread to my entire body. My skin was prickling. Every alarm in my head was going off—not the cock-spiral alarms from before, but something deeper. Something instinctive. Something that recognized wrongness when it heard it.

This wasn't Jenn. This wasn't how Jenn talked. Jenn had always been confident in her body. She'd never—not once in the years I'd known her—expressed insecurity about her breast size. She'd always said "more than a handful is a waste" with that breezy confidence that came from genuinely not giving a shit. And now she was calling herself pathetic? Blaming herself for Robbie's cheating?

"Jenn," I said carefully, reaching out to grip her arm. "You're beautiful. Your body is amazing. Where is this coming from? Why are you suddenly talking about yourself like this?"

Jenn gave me a look—almost pitying. "Katie, that's easy for you to say." Her eyes dropped to my chest, lingering on the swell of my breasts beneath my hoodie with an expression that was equal parts envious and... something else. Something that made my stomach flip. "Look at what you've got. Those big, freckled tits of yours—Robbie talks about them all the time, you know."

"Jenn—"

"If you were a real friend," she said, and her voice was still light, still conversational, but the words hit like a punch, "you would have helped me. You could have offered a threesome with us. Robbie wanted that so badly—he used to ask me about it all the time. If I'd been able to give him that, to offer him your tits along with my ass, maybe he would have stayed. Maybe we'd still be together." She shrugged, like this was a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend. "But you didn't. So, why cry over spilled milk, right?"

I stared at her. My mouth was open but nothing was coming out. The cold had solidified into ice in my veins, and underneath it, something hot and furious was building.

Someone had used the CORD on Jenn.

The realization crystallized in my mind with horrible clarity. This wasn't natural. These weren't thoughts Jenn had arrived at on her own. Someone had programmed this into her—the self-deprecation, the submission to Robbie, the casual acceptance of being his booty call. The blame. The belief that her body wasn't good enough. The resentment toward me for not offering myself up on a platter.

Someone had CORDed my best friend.

But WHO?

My mind raced. It couldn't be Robbie—he didn't have the CORD. He was just a regular asshole student! He didn't even know CORD existed, as far as I could tell. So someone else had done this. Someone who had the ability to use the CORD, who had chosen to make Jenn into Robbie's willing, self-hating fuck toy.

But WHY? Why would anyone else care about making Jenn service Robbie? What possible motivation could a third party have for—

Unless it wasn't about Jenn at all.

The thought hit me like ice water. Unless it was about me. Unless someone was doing this specifically to mess with ME—turning my best friend into Robbie's plaything, making her say things about my tits, making her resent me for not participating. It was exactly the kind of thing that would get under my skin, exactly the kind of thing that would—

That would lead me toward Robbie.

My blood ran cold.

"Jenn," I said slowly, my grip tightening on her arm. "When did you start... feeling this way? About yourself. About Robbie. When did it change?"

But Jenn just looked at me with those slightly glazed, slightly dreamy eyes and smiled. "I don't know what you mean, Katie. I've always felt this way."

She hadn't. I knew she hadn't. Whoever had done this had been thorough—rewriting Jenn's perception of her own history, smoothing over the seams until she couldn't even see where the old thoughts ended and the new ones began.

My best friend had been violated. Mentally rewritten. Turned into someone else's puppet.

And somehow, impossibly, all roads led back to Robbie. How certainly doesn't have the CORD!

Then she says goodbye as if what she just said wasn't completely bonkers and goes off to PE. Leaving me behind with my frenzy of thoughts.