A throne room show of dominance

Twenty minutes later, the front door clicks open. "Girls?!" a woman's voice calls. "Abby? Mel? Are you in here?" The door closes, and the woman can be heard saying, "Here, sweetheart, just take these that way...the kitchen's over there. GIRLS?!"

"In the den, mom!" Mel calls cheerfully. The woman's steps resume, hurrying closer.

"Thank God! People are going insane out there, I barely made it - OH!"

The woman - Amanda, clearly - comes into the entrance to the den and freezes, her eyes wide. It's quite a sight: the furniture has been rearranged slightly so that a large armchair dominates one end of the room, far from the door toward the front of the house. Grant sits on that chair, trying to look imposing. He's not sure he can quite pull it off, but he's aided in his attempt by the two sisters who live here. Mary's posed them all so as to make the relationships at play very clear indeed: Mel has changed into a loose, shimmery blue nightie that barely comes down to her mid-thigh ("I usually wear this with boxers," she admitted, blushing), while Abby's been gagged and had her arms restrained using a pair of handcuffs Olivia located ("I knew where to look in the main bedroom," she said casually, getting a horrified look from the already-gagged Abby). She kneels by the side of Grant's chair. His left hand rests firmly on the back of her neck - ready to speak the words and claim her at a moment's notice - while Mel perches on Grant's knee, her arms twined lovingly around his neck and his arm around her waist. He can feel Mel trembling slightly with excitement under his touch, feel her eagerness in the warm heat of her through the thin nightie - he's pretty sure she's not wearing any underpants.

Now Grant raises his hand from Mel's waist and puts an admonishing finger to his lips. Amanda - a woman in her early 40s of similar complexion features to her daughters, though shorter and rounded out by age - nods, eyes wide, and takes a few steps forward as Grant crooks his finger. "W-What do you want?" she whispers, mingled horror and fury in her voice.

"I'm moving in here," Grant says. He's practiced it a dozen times in his head, and is surprised by how easily it rolls of his tongue. Confident. Authoritative. Almost casual. "Mel here was kind enough to let me in, and has decided to join me in my...attempt to make a life in this new world." Mel nods enthusiastically and snuggles closer on the chair, pressing her chest into Grant's side. He's becoming painfully hard. "Abby here hasn't been convinced yet...though of course, I could change that at any moment." He tightens his grip on the back of her neck, and Abby whimpers. "But I wanted to talk to you first."

"Let her go," Amanda says. Her voice starts to rise, but when Mel shushes her, she drops it again. "Please, please - just let them go. Or let Abby go, at least, if Mel is really..." She gestures helplessly.

"Oh, I am!" Mel says cheerfully. "Grant claimed me and it's honestly the best thing in the world. I just can't wait to see how he changes the world. And I'll do anything he asks. I mean, anything." She looks at Grant beseechingly. "Really. You know that, right...?"

"Mm-hm." Grant nods and strokes her back, trying to calm the quivering girl down a bit. "She really is...eager. But that's not the most important thing now. You brought someone else back with you - who?"

"Just...a girl," Amanda whispers. She's started to tear up, now. "A girl, she was being chased by some men and I let her into my car...please, she's not involved in any of this..."

"Well, that makes this easy, then," Grant says. "Call her in here."

"No...please, you can...you have enough with us, surely."

"Call her," Grant says, trying to sound stern. "Or I'll claim Abby and make you watch as I punish her in your place."

"O-ok, ok ok," Amanda whispers. She takes a deep breath, wiping the tears from her eyes, and looks heavenward. Perhaps she's praying for strength - or forgiveness. Then she takes a deep breath. "Jasmine?" she calls brightly. "Would you come in here, please?"

"Sure thing," the other voice replies. "Where are you - oh, here you - MMMF!"

A tall, athletic-looking Black woman in her early 20s walks through the door and staggers as Mary and Olivia set on her from their positions lurking on opposite sides of the doorframe. She struggles wildly against their hands, but Mary's already kicked her legs out from under her and she falls heavily to her knees. Seeing that the two of them aren't going to be able to maneuver her, Grant taps Mel's thigh (she gets daintily off his lap) and stands, crossing over to them. He looks down at the struggling, wide-eyed woman who's looking up at him in horror, and steels himself. Before he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. Now, he is. And he has to live with it.

But a voice that sounds an awful lot like Mary speaks in the back of his mind: You can be someone. You can make a mark. But only if you hold the resources.

Gritting his teeth, he reaches out and grabs the woman's hand. "I claim you," he declares.

The tall woman shudders, then goes still. She sags limply in Mary and Olivia's hands for a moment, then seems to come to herself again. Warily, the two claimed women let her go, but she just smiles crookedly up at them. "Wow," she says. "That's...weirdly comforting. Got it out of the way, at least." She laughs slightly, self-consciously. "What's your name, dude?"

"Grant," he says. He feels a rush of confidence, a heady buzz of power. She's just...ok with it. Just like that. Even though this is the third time he's done this intentionally, it's still only just starting to feel real. "What's yours?"

"Jasmine. But my friends call me Jaz," she says with a wry smile. Her thick hair is tied into two Afro puffs, and she's got on an outfit that shows off her muscular, lean body: a cropped t-shirt and cut-off black jean shorts, bright blue sneakers. "What're we doing, here?"

"Taking control," Mary says with a smile, reaching out to help Jaz to her feet. "This is our home now."

"Really?" Jaz glances between them all. "Mrs. Keller over there seemed to think it was hers. Did you claim her daughters?"

"Just me," Mel says with a little twirl. "Abby's still waiting her turn."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Jaz asks, looking perplexed.

"Please, no," Amanda breaks in. She's dropped to her knees, tears in her eyes. "Please, I...I brought you this poor girl, you've already taken Mel from me. Please let me and Abby go...you can keep the house, whatever you want, just please let us go...or her, at least! Take me if you have to, but let Abby go free..."

Grant blinks in surprise, and Abby struggles against her restraints, protesting through her gag. Mel sighs. "You're both being so dramatic! Just let Grant claim you. He's really great! And I told him you're the slutty twin, Abby, so I bet you'd be really good at pleasing him." Abby protests more vigorously.

"There's something to be said for claiming both of them," Mary murmurs in his ear. "And, of course, she's made it easy for you...just claim her, then claim Abby if you want. But there might be something to having one of them unclaimed, too...a bargaining chip if you need it..." She glances at him, eyes dark and thoughtful. "I wouldn't leave more than one of them unclaimed, though. Too much risk of them colluding..."