Pattern

Dave’s hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms. Five years of doctoral research in cognitive behavioral theory, three peer-reviewed studies on executive dysfunction, and here he was—trapped in a cosmic joke where his ex-girlfriend’s manic pixie dream girl bullshit *literally bent spacetime*. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. *There had to be a pattern,* he thought desperately. *Some loophole, some trigger—if he could just analyze her like a subject, like data—* His pulse spiked. What if *he* could harness this? No more adjunct professor grind, no more publishing for tenure. Just pure, unfiltered *power*. His cock twitched traitorously at the thought.

Jessica yawned, stretching her arms overhead with feline laziness. "Davey, you’re *vibrating*," she observed, tapping her temple. "Your brain’s like… a hamster on a meth wheel." She giggled at his furious blush. Dave’s jaw worked silently. *Think, damn it!* His grad school mentor’s voice echoed: *Observe the variables.* Variable one: Jessica’s power seemed tied to her whims, her *desire*. Variable two: it operated *subconsciously*, like a reflex. Variable three—his breath hitched—her arousal *amplified* the effects. The guard worshipping her feet, Becky’s impromptu throat-fucking… all coincided with Jessica’s amusement, her *pleasure*. A wild, reckless thought seized him: *What if I made her come?*

Jessica snorted, kicking her legs playfully. "Ohhh, Davey!" she singsonged, swirling her finger. His mouth flew open against his will. "Say it *out loud*, sweetie!" Chimed Jessica. Dave choked as his vocal cords moved without permission. "*I want to make you orgasm to control the universe*," his voice announced, dripping with humiliated ****. The words hung between them, obscene and absurd. Dr. Virginia’s pen snapped in half. Jessica blinked, then burst into peals of laughter—her perfect breasts shaking, tears beading at her lash line. "Oh my *god*," she wheezed, clutching her stomach. "You’re *adorable*! Like a toddler trying to hack the Pentagon!" She wiped her eyes, grinning. "Tell me *more*, Freud! How’s that gonna *work*?"