The Good Guy

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Thanks for clicking on my branch of this story. My thought is to pursue a path where the protagonist (you) really care about Maisie and want to do right by her. This path you won't be intentionally giving her any commands that could hurt her or make her unhappy. The power dynamic between you makes for enough tension and drama anyway.

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Masie continues to tap at her phone, she giggles and shifts in the car seat. She tucks her legs up onto the seat. Her perfect legs, legs you have dreamed about touching, caressing. And you could now. You could just tell her to hold still and touch her however you wanted. You could do anything to her. As you stare at her you notice her pull her legs tighter, closer to her body. She continues playing with her phone, but she seems nervous.

“Are you just going to stare at me like that?” She asks, still typing and swiping at her phone.

She tries to sound confident, but you hear the difference in her voice. It’s likely no one else would notice, but you had known her too long, and too well, to not see it. Maisie is scared. She is acting tough, but she’s scared.

“Are we good to go inside?” you ask her, “Or is there more you need to tell me.”

She opens the car door. “Yeah, of course we should go inside.” She replies smugly. But her voice cracks. The more she tries to sound tough the more the façade slips.

You walk up to your apartment building, input your code and hold the door for her.

“Thanks.” She says quietly as she slips past you. She walked up the stairs and back to your rear corner apartment. She stands at the end of the short and dimly lit hallway, her arms crossed, doing her best to look impatient. As you approach she looks to the apartment door and bites her lip, the same way she has since she was in kindergarten anytime something made her worry. Suddenly her demeanor shifts, the brave act discarded as she realizes walking through that door means she is alone with the man she just gave complete power over her.

You walk over to the door, slowly and silently. Watching as she shifts her weight away from you.

“Hey, would you want to go get a burger? My treat.” She offers.

“No, I’m not hungry.” You reply as you reach the door.

“I’m hungry.” She blurts out. She doesn’t want to go in your apartment, she doesn’t want to be alone with you. You can’t blame her after what she just told you. And with the thoughts that have been running through your head ever since, she has good reason to be scared.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got food for you, you want a quesadilla?” You couldn’t help but smile, Maisie was always asking you to make her a quesadilla. She loved them.

“I. . .” she starts, but stops, resignation setting in. You aren’t going to let her get out of this without her bringing up the curse, and she doesn’t want to do that. You wonder how far she would go to avoid the topic.

You turn to face her. “Maisie, Are you okay?” She looks down at her shoes. You’ve never seen her like this, it feels amazing. The reversal in your usual power dynamic is intoxicating.

“Do you maybe want to go somewhere else?” she asks, looking at the toe of her sneaker as she grinds it into the floor.

“Are you afraid to be alone with me?” You ask, stepping towards her.

“No.” She says, looking up at you. She summons a last bit of bravado as she says it, but as her eyes meet yours it fades fast. “Why would I be afraid?” her voice shakes as she says it.

You pull open your front door. “I don’t know.” You say, stepping back to hold the door open for her. “You just seem a bit jumpy all of a sudden.”

You could order her around, you could start taking advantage of your power over her, get your hands on her, kiss her, fuck her. God knows you’ve fantasized about it long enough. But right now? Right now you are really enjoying letting her think about it, letting the switch in your relationship sink in while you do nothing. Maisie huffs and then walks into your apartment. She heads straight to the couch and turns on your television.

“You want to watch that Anime we watched last time, or something new?” She asks. She’s avoiding the topic, filling the space.

“You pick, I’ll watch whatever. Did you want a quesadilla?” You ask.

“No, I’m alright.” She says, already abandoning her hunger defense.

You come in and sit on the couch in your usual spot, look over at her as she works the remote control. She absent-mindedly pushes her long brown hair back behind her ear. It’s a common motion, but the way she does it, and the view it gives of her neck and shoulders as she does it has made it a cherished moment for you for years.

She notices you looking at her and freezes. She suddenly looks timid, like a small, frightened animal under the gaze of a predator. You’ve been enjoying watching her squirm so far, but this is fear, and you don’t want her to be afraid of you. You want her to notice you, to see you as a man, not fear you like you are some monster.

“Maisie.” You say sternly.

“Look, that movie you wanted to see is streaming now, do you want to watch it?” She says, there is desperation in her voice.

“Maisie I don’t care about that right now.” You reply.

“How about a mystery then, there’s one with. . .”

“Maisie, stop, please.”

She stops talking. Her hands stop mid-gesture. Her eyes hold steady, she’s as still as a statue. If you didn’t see her chest moving you’d think she had stopped breathing.

“Oh, shit, I didn’t mean that as a command.” You say. She doesn’t move.

“You can move.” You say to her, but she doesn’t. She stays perfectly still.

Right as panic is about to set in you remember her words in the car, you need to say her name, then the thing you want her to do. “Maisie, you are free to move and talk.” You say and are relieved to see her turn and lower her arms to her lap.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“You should be.” She answers, her voice angry but also shaky.

“Maisie, I didn’t mean to command you.”

“But you did.” She says, turning to face you, her face red, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“It was a mistake, Maisie, I’m not exactly used to having this power over you. I didn’t even ask for this. You chose this.”

“I chose this?” She yells “I chose it?”

“I’m sorry, I misspoke.” You try to apologize.

She growls as she gets up, her hands balled into angry fists. She starts to walk toward your front door.

“Maisie, don’t go.” You say. She stops. “Can't we talk about this?”

She stops walking away, but stays facing the door. “Well if I can’t leave, I guess I have to.”

“What?” you say, confused. “Oh shit, Maisie, I did it again.” As you realize you phrased asking her to stay the right way to trigger the curse.

Maisie shakes her head. She turns, puts her hands on her hips and glares at you expectantly. You don’t like controlling her, but you can’t let her leave, not like this.

“Maisie, come back and sit down, let’s talk about this.” It feels harsh, commanding her intentionally for the first time, but you need to talk about this, even if she doesn’t want to.

She takes a spot as far away from you on the couch as she can. She sits there, her legs crossed on the couch, her arms folded angrily, glaring at you.

“You chose me Maisie, you told me about this, why me?” You ask.

“Because I thought you were my friend, that you wouldn’t use it to bully me.” She says snarkily.

“I don’t want to bully you, Maisie, I honestly didn’t mean to command you before.”

“And now?” She asked, gesturing to the couch she had **** but to sit on.

“I’d like to talk about this, I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“Commanding me to stay in your apartment is supposed to make me less upset?”

“Okay.” You say. “Maisie, you are free to leave, but I’d like for you to stay and talk with me about this.”

You watch as she uncrosses her legs, puts her feet down and stands up. Then she sighs and sits back down.

“I’m sorry for dumping this on you.” She says. “It’s just, I had to tell someone.”

“Why? Is that part of the curse?” You ask.

“No.” She replies, then seeing that you want more than that, she lays her head back and sighs. “I think Mr. Anderson knows.”

“Our math teacher?”

“Yes." She pulls her legs up tight to her chest. Rests her hands on her knees. "He knows my dad from somewhere and I think he found out what happened to my aunt. He kept asking me when my birthday was, if I was ready to turn 18, ready for what that means. He was super creepy about it.”

“He’s always creeped on you, Maisie.” Mr. Anderson had been creepy for a long time, but it was worse with Maisie. He was always talking to her, standing too close to her or finding reasons to touch her.

“Yeah, so you can see why I needed someone else to be the first to know.” She says.

“Wait, but if he already knew, then how am I the first?” You ask.

“Knowing isn’t enough, you have to use it. You took the position as soon as you made my hair pink.” She says.

“So that’s why you pushed me to change your hair color.”

She nods.

“Why me, Maisie?” You ask. “I get dodging Mr. Anderson, but why tell me and not someone else?”

“You’re my oldest friend.” She answers. “I don’t know any guy I can trust more than you to not use the curse to hurt me.”

She looked at you sweetly as she said it, but you knew that face. It was the face she used to get away with things, especially when she was lying. It was hard to take, realizing she was lying to you. She was sitting there, telling you she trusted you, but it was a lie. Your face changes as the knowledge pisses you off.

“Maisie, when I ask you a question you will tell me the truth.” You say, you won’t let her get away with this.

“Oh no.” She says, getting up.

“Maisie sit down.” You command, and she complies. Her face is panicked as she does.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want, you don’t have to command me.”

“I want the truth, Maisie.”

“I’ll suck your dick if you want, just take back that command.” She is ****. **** enough to offer that just to keep from telling you the truth.

“If I wanted you to suck my dick Maisie, I could just tell you to do it. I want you to tell me the truth. Maisie you will answer the question and answer it honestly, Why did you choose to tell me about your curse?” You demand, your face hot with anger.

“Because you’ve never say no to me, you do everything I want and you never demand anything from me.” She blurts it out and then covers her mouth.

“You chose me because you thought you could control me, that you could boss me around?” You spit the words out out of your mouth.

She nods as the tears run down her face. Is she sad because she knows she hurt you, or because you caught her in her little scheme? Right now you don’t even care.

“Maisie, get on the floor, on your knees.”

She moves quickly to comply. “Please.” She begs as tears fall down her face.

“I’ve been in love with you for years Maisie, I was okay with us being friends, I made myself be okay with it because I thought you at least cared about me as a friend.” You shout at her.

“Please.” She begs again. It only makes you madder.

“Did you ever really care about me, Maisie? Or did you keep me around so you had a patsy to tell your secret to?”

“Please, don’t make me say it.” She cries.

“Maisie, answer the question.” You command.