Fan-Mail Replies, Part 4: Salting Some Wounds

Harper (Continued)

The next video that starts is of the Congressman. Harper already watched the fan-mail from this particular season last night, before everything went sideways. She sighs, “Can we just skip this one? I already wrote him a letter in response and I think I don’t have much to add to that. Definitely, nothing good, given my current state of mind.”

New video, this time of an athletic girl leaning against a fish tank. She reads out Harper’s letter, then asks some questions to her friends in response. Harper scans the other letter replies really quick to remind herself of a particular note, then she begins, “Hello again, Ms. Soto. I must apologize first. Extremely bad night last night. I’m in a supernaturally foul mood. Forgive any faux pas I make. I already wrote back to the Congressman, but, if you get this, give him my greetings again, if you please.

I did notice that you were wondering why most people only sent their first name. In my case, it’s at least partially due to not quite knowing which one to use. I have 2 additional different adult lifetimes worth of memories crammed into my head during the game. The fading human’s last name was O’Connor and I’m using it as my last name mostly out of habit at this point. The most recent set of memories had me adopted to be the heir to a Queendom. The royal family’s last name there is Copse-Wood when translated to English, but royalty do not often use their last names. Sorry for the confusion.

And those dice are better than loaded dice. Loaded dice just shifts the odds of a roll to a particular way. Those dice lets you have complete control of the result. Again, I don’t know how they could help you in the real game (you know, surviving the inter-dimensional smut show), but I thought they were neat. Enjoy. Good luck.”

Mark’s response is next. Harper watches, then replies, “Sorry in advance, Mark, but last night was not great for me. I am in a supernaturally bad mood. Forgive any faux pas, please.

Glad to be of service. That the lady with the weird Scottish accent transformation? She looks much better as a kitsune. I hope she doesn’t try to kill you.”

Vix growls in Harper’s arms. Harper looks down, feeling a little shame. “Sorry. Again, bad mood.”

The Mark response video continues to Glitterdust’s letters. Harper feels her blood boiling. Calm down. She’s new and needs to learn some restraint. It’ll be okay. Don’t lose control again.

“Mark, again, sorry about Glitterdust. Had I known she was going to take it that far, I would have provided more supervision. Hard to do that when I was supposed to be on a date, but now I know better. I’ll make triply sure she doesn’t send something like that your way. Having said that, do NOT threaten me with an FtM thing. I do not want to find out if the fucking gender dysphoria transformation I got would reactivate, pardon my language. I’m also adamantly against the idea of Glitterdust going male full-time. Think your current issue with lesbian penetration, times a fucking thousand. While I am getting used to some toy play, the only time something that realistic was shoved up inside me was getting pegged by Josie and that fucking hurt! A temporary one for Glitterdust when I’m elsewhere? I’d have to mull that over. On the one hand, it may help her understand some of the negative consequences of her particular fetish on those that unwillingly experience it. On the other, it may just trigger that fetish in her too (and I don’t think that I’m ever going to be in a position to indulge that).”

Before the next video begins, Honey pulls out a device, something akin to a conference call phone. “Since we are about to get to business, this device will ensure confidentiality. It’s a perk of lawyer client privilege. My firm will forward the appropriate bits to Cassandra through our internal channels. Is this okay?”

Harper nods, Honey activates the device, and the video plays. Harper listens, then responds, “First thing, Cassandra, I am in an incredibly foul mood right now. I’m sure, as a Host, you will know why by the time you get this. The less said, the less painful this will be. Forgive any faux pas, please.

I do not wish to cause any more strife on your set than I unintentionally had last round. It’s not my tale to tell. Accept my apology or not. Allow me to do that little thing to maybe resolve some of that strife or not. Choice is yours.

Thank you for the reference. The lawyer showed up before your letter was given to me. Honey has already been helpful. Pass on my praises to her bosses when you have the chance. Your wisdom in these matters is appreciated.”

Harper sighs, already exhausted from the day that has barely started. Honey speaks up, “While the field is up, we should handle our immediate business. Then, I’ll lend you whatever professional support you need, at least until the lockdown is over. Some questions first. What is the nature of the agreement you have made with your Producer? What demands have you already agreed to? How much of a magical budget are we dealing with here? Anything in particular you want me to negotiate as a part of your contract?”

Harper sighs and finishes off her coffee. A glass of water appears beside her empty glass. Feeling dehydrated, she drinks about a third of that down as well. She answers, “Verbal agreement. No paperwork yet. No intention of breaking that verbal agreement, mind you, but a lot of things have not been set in stone yet. Only things I have agreed to are: to settle my harem in Aelene’s home when this nightmare game is over; establish my own set, though there is no current specifications on the nature of said set; the general premise of the first season I host, which is to gather a harem to save my old home dimension from annihilation when the weave re-establishes itself very soon on the cosmic scale; and that I keep this agreement secret from my harem until at least our season here is over. I have no idea what the budget is going to be, but saving a dimension is bound to be rewarding enough to accommodate a lot. I’d need a professional magic accountant for that sort of thing, assuming that’s a thing. I have no idea what to ask for, in general. The one specific thing I want is rather troublesome. I want Ms. E to drop the producer persona with me. I don’t care if she uses it in public and I am happy to play along with it then, but, when we’re alone, I want to be dealing with actual her. Not a cat. Not a thing in the shadows. Her. And the sooner you can make that happen, the better.”

“You know that a producer would never agree to that, right Ms O’Connor?”

“I figured out who she was when I first met her. She hasn’t smote me yet. She’ll agree to it.”

“Fine. We’ll try. That’s it for our initial business.” Honey turns off the conference call device. She then directs Harper to check out her fan mail.

The first bit of fan mail was Frankie, singing “Fuck You” over and over again to the tune of “Entry of the Gladiators” (with accompanying background music), punctuated by “BANNED!” Sure enough, Harper sees that she has a bunch of direct messages from various Francises from the forum and a notification that she’s been kicked from the group for “being such a fucking bitch.” Harper hands the tape over to Honey. “Burn this. It’s not worthy of any other response.”

The other letter was at least more civil:

Harper,

I hope that you get this letter before you get Frankie’s ‘gift’. Her anger has since cooled, but she’ll never forgive you. And she has no reason to.

As far as I am concerned, what you did to my counterpart is completely irredeemable. You hurt her beyond what is even remotely acceptable. I’m glad that she is free of you. I’ll thank you for not causing a fuss, for allowing it to happen. You have enough sense to see your failure, I’ll give you that.

Be advised that my offer for assisting you professionally is now rescinded. I have also taken the liberty of filing a restraining order against you for both myself and my counterpart. Do not attempt to contact either of us again. I expect you have enough sense to comply.

Dr. Dinah Hornblower

Mistress of Harem Hotel: Paging Doctor Dinah

Harper turns towards Honey, “What do I even do with this?”

“React to it as you will. If she is watching, she’ll hear you. If not, it’s no longer your concern.”

“Fine. Dinah, way to kick a girl when she’s down. Leave me and mine alone and I’ll do the same for yours. Have a nice life. Any more?”

“No, Ms. O’Connor.”

“Great, I’m going to go take a few moments alone, if you don’t mind, Honey. Thank you for your help.” Harper gets up and the tears start flowing unbidden. The sea elf just wants to flop on her bed and cry. The boxes are still in the way. She needs to use her shoulder to move one out of the way. Ooof, surprisingly heavy. Is that a life sized statue of Dani Montenue making the anime porn face? The feathers looks really nice, but what the fuck?

Scarlet

The lockdown lifted, everyone naturally started for the Master Suite. We all need to see her, to figure out what’s next.

So, when that fucking cat stops them all at the base of the stairs, Scarlet feels just about ready to do something stupid again. Daphne, Tina, and Josie all held her back. The cat speaks, “Please understand that Ms. O’Connor is in a fragile state right now. She won’t hurt you, obviously, but she is extremely sensitive to the circumstances surrounding last night. If you head up there, be advised that upsetting her too much WILL cost you VP. With that, Ms. Smythe, I need to speak with you in private. Everyone else, do as you please.”

The cat walks back towards the hallway, expecting Scarlet to follow. With Daphne giving her a peck on the cheek for good luck, she follows expectations. Ms. E enters the Host’s office, hopping into the office chair. After giving the chair a couple of spins, she starts, “Congratulations on your promotion, Ms. Smythe. You are officially the new Team Mom! Don’t worry, we won’t be giving you that transformation path.”

Scarlet growls, “If that is all, I have Harper to glue back together from whatever shit you have done to her.”

As Scarlet turns to leave in a huff, the producer cat offers, “Would you like to see? A special preview, as it were?”

That makes the oread stop in her tracks. “You’d show me how the sausage is made?”

“Of course, Ms. Smythe. I actually care about all of you, including Ms. Doctor Hornblower. Shall I grab the footage?”

The cat actually shows Scarlet the whole ordeal, up there on the big screen in the Host’s office. Dinah setting up her alibi and breaking out of the spa (a camera having followed her the entire time). Dinah running through the nightmare of the Backstage. Dinah falling, knee busted, on a white-sand beach. Some guy trying to help her. A radiant woman in an ebon black dress (a Host, she supposes) patching Dinah up. The cat notes, “I would have done that if Ms. Arabella didn’t.” Harper and the cat popping in. Harper, already looking both unnaturally calm and completely broken simultaneously, talking with the guy. The pain and anguish in Harper’s eyes as Dinah was set free. The pain and anguish in Dinah’s eyes as she’s given her exit. The cat saying goodbye in her unique way. By the time all of that is done, Scarlet doesn’t know whether she should rage or break down into tears. She chooses both.

“Look at that, you even have the attitude of a Team Mom down. You got a final letter. This one is from a few weeks into the future. React to it as you feel. I’ll make sure it gets to its destination.”

A handwritten letter, meticulously scratched out, appears in Scarlet’s hand. She reads:

Scarlet,

I know you were trying to help. You are a good-hearted girl. But what happened between Harper and myself was never going to be mended. Certainly not in time for the endgame.

I'm sure Harper told you and the others some of what happened. I'd like to tell you my version.

I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. I knew if I did, I would lose my chance. I took a wild risk, and almost didn't make it (Binky).

Then, by chance, I came onto another set. A tropical island of sort. I was found by that set's Master, who tended my wounds until the Host arrived to fully heal me and call Ms. E. Ms. E brought Harper, ready to... I don't know, bring me back so I could suffer more? Anyway, the Host – Arabella – actually stood up for me. She told Ms. E I was welcome to stay, if I wanted. And Ms. E actually agreed. She released me from the harem. Yes, she gave me an elimination transformation. Not the greatest – I can't feel sexual pleasure except in some specific cases – but by far not the worst. I'm still me. And I got Mittens back!

So I stayed. It beat returning to our shithole of a show with Harper not even interested in lowly humans anymore.

But I don't want you to think I picked the lesser of two evils. Arabella, the Host, kept her word. I'm not part of any harem: I'm my own (cat)woman. I will go home when the season is over, in the world Andy (the Master of this season) and his women come from. Sure, not wholly human anymore, but Arabella promised she'll give me a boon so I won't stand out. And I get to WORK, Scarlet! Like you do with the girls, but... Well, I can't tell you too much. But I feel needed again. I feel I'm actually helping. It's all I really wanted, you know? No psycho fox-girls trying to milk me, no dispassionate sea elves, no shark-toothed mermaids with nasty senses of humor. It's what I forgot I needed.

So I'm OK, Scarlet. Really. More than OK. I'm happy, for the first time in... I don't even know how long.

Arabella promised me she'd deliver this letter to you via Ms. E. Ms. E can get your letter to me, if you want to write back. I'm also attaching a present. It's a porcelain travel tea set. Not enchanted, just... A gift for you to find some peace from time to time. I saw a contestant in this season using one, and I thought of you.

Please look after the others, Scarlet. And if you talk to Harper... Don't tell her anything. I'm not her "transactional partner" anymore. And no tears on my part.

Love you, kid.

Dinah

All that burning rage fizzles out of her. Some boiling tears still remain. “Funny thing, Dinah. I’m getting your side first. We’ve been on lockdown. I haven’t gotten to see Harper all morning. All I knew before seeing and reading this is that Ariel thought everyone was too soft on you. I absolutely disagree with that.

I’m glad that you found some happiness, some meaning in all of this. None of us deserved the things this game has done to us. Not you. Not me. Not Harper. I watched you flounder here and, frankly, it broke my heart. I feel like I failed you, over and over and over again. Watching how the other’s responded to my letters certainly reinforced that feeling. I’m sorry for whatever portion of your sorrow you wish to lay at my feet.

I hope and pray that, one day, you will forgive Harper. There is little point to keep holding grudges, especially now that you are free from us. Despite your insistence otherwise, Harper actually cares about you, even if she honestly felt like she couldn’t love you as long as she was the only one working on your relationship. She tried, she really tried to make things better for you. It felt like she just couldn’t do enough for you. I imagine Harper spent all morning alone and self-flagellating from missed chances to fix things.

Relationships are a two-way street, Dinah. Remember that next time. And I do hope that there is a next time for you, another chance to find someone to love you like you deserve. Seek the help you need to get you there.

Thank you for the tea set. Hopefully, it can handle high heat. I’m sure you remember how I messed up iced tea at the Cat Cafe.

Of course I will continue to care for the others. I’m dating like half of them at this point anyways. We are all going to get through this together. Don’t worry about us.

Finally, please understand that I will not be honoring that last request. I do not mean it to betray you. I’m just not keeping secrets from my future wife. When I think she’s ready for it, I will be telling her that you’re okay, that you found some happy ending. I’m sure she will respect your desire not to see her until you are ready.

Keep in touch.”

Scarlet turns to the cat, looking all smug in the office chair. “What season? I assume I should be thanking this Arabella and this Andy guy, but...?”

The cat interrupts, hopping out on the chair and landing in Scarlet’s arms. “No planning a rescue mission. No interfering with them unless you are actually invited. No blabbing secrets to the actual participants in their game. Understand?”

The oread nods. The cat continues, “Ms. Holt’s season.”

Turning back to “the camera”, Scarlet wipes away the remnants of steam coming from the corners of her eyes. “Arabella, thank you for what you did for her. You, too, I guess, Andy. Don’t you...”

Her voice is stolen from her as the producer cat tisk-tisks, “Ah, no threatening the Host. I’ll already have to send a gift basket or something for Ms. O’Connor’s rudeness. Don’t need to send a second.”

Scarlet glares at the cat in her lap, contemplating dropping her. The producer, sensing her intentions, teleports on top of Scarlet’s head. “Be polite. You may continue.”

“Sorry, please take care of her. And, if Dr. Holt is willing, get her some therapy. She’ll need it after all that’s happened. She deserves to be happy. And, I guess, thank you Ms. E for not being a massive bitch?”

“You’re welcome. Now go glue your future wife together, Team Mom.”