She's Back To Normal

As Jen takes her shower you sit in the living room eating a snack and watching tv, feet propped up on the coffee table. You're lost in thought about Jen, trying to figure out what's prompted her to change. You run through a few possibilities from fetish, to mental disorder. You even briefly consider the idea that's you have some kind of superpower but quickly dismiss the idea as absurd.

When Jen finally comes out of the bathroom, she's wearing a purple off the shoulder sweater and a pair of booty shorts, leaving her smooth, pale legs visible including a thigh tattoo of a blooming rose vine. Her purple hair still glistening wet in the morning light.

"Hey Jen I've been thinking-" You start to say in an apologetic tone.

"Don't hurt yourself." She cuts you off. "And get your filthy fucking feet off of my coffee table."

You groan, it seems Jen is back to her usual bitchy self. "It's OUR coffee table. We split the cost for the furniture, remember."

"Yeah," Jen says, rolling her eyes and slapping your feet off of the table, as she does you note that your name has been cleaned off of her palm. "We split it 60 40. I paid more. It's mine more than yours and I don't want your disgusting feet all over it."

"Ugh. I thought we made some kind of progress this morning, but you're still a controlling psycho bitch, aren't you. You take the marker from your pocket and write your name across the table. "Mine." You growl.

"Fine, you're right, it's yours. Can I still use it? I mean, I let YOU use all of the furniture I bought." She snaps at you.

"WE BOUGHT!" You scream at her. "Jesus, are you trying to get me riled up enough to face fuck you again!? Is this some kind of fucked up mind game?"

Jen's face turns bright red. "I would never let you do that! You're a disgusting, limp-dicked, man child. This morning was different, you owned me!" She yells back.

In a fit of rage you pounce on your roommate, shoving her onto the couch and straddling her as she pushes you away, screaming. You cover her mouth with your hand and pin her down with your knees, writing your name on her bare shoulder, just below the collar bone. Instantly her body relaxes and she stops screaming into your hand. You jump back triumphantly smiling "There bitch, I own you again! Is that what you wanted!?"

"No." She says without any emotion. "I didn't want you to own me. I hate you." Then she shrugs and says, "But you DO own me, so what can I do about it?"

You chuckle. "Fuck. This is real for you isn't it?"

"Of course." She replies. Then she gets up and starts walking towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" You ask.

"To wash your name off. You gave me permission to clean myself, remember." She says matter of factly.

"No." You quickly bark. "You're never allowed to clean my name off of your body. And I want you to rewrite it for me a couple of times a day so it doesn't fade, either."

"Okay." She says simply.

You find yourself getting hard again with the bitchy beauty under your control. There's still a nagging sense of guilt in the back of your mind that this has to be some kind of major mental illness, but you're too pissed and too horny to let that stop you now.