She laughed.

Really, the sound that escaped Stacy's throat was more reminiscent of a woodland creature being beaten with a rock than a laugh. It was apparent that the moans and screams of pleasure had damaged her throat, resulting in her voice being hoarse dry. It also seemed to be that she was coughing moreso than laughing. But beyond any miniscule fragment of doubt, that was a laugh.

Mack's own laughter faltered, then silenced, his exuberance being replaced by her weak chuckling laced with labored breaths in tandem with his constant snapping. He eyed her with suspicion at her unprompted broken cackles. As she seemingly choked on her own spittle, she rolled over to the side whilst wheezing. She settled down little by little, until all that he could see was her subtle breathing. He leaned over to look at her. He saw the last few waking moments she had before her eyes wearily closed themselves and she drifted off to sleep.

He slowly got up and looked her over from his new vantage point. He bent over, cupping his hand to his ear and turning his head to try to hear any signs that she had really just fainted. He could hear and just barely see her slightly heavy breathing. He let out a sigh of relief he didn't realize he was holding. As much as he did hate her, he wasn't so horrid and petty as to have zero regards for her safety. After all, that's why he chose to change her with pleasure instead of pain, even if the end result would be the same.

Though, now he had a question; why was she laughing? Was she somehow happy to be humiliated like this? Because that would make his job quite a bit easier, though it was unlikely. Had she simply gone crazy? That would complicate things, but surely she wasn't that easy. Did she find her predicament funny in some twisted way? He wouldn't put it past her, but she wasn't the type to enjoy being the butt of the joke. Did she know something he didn't? That would be a problem, but Mack was willing to take chances, especially now that he had a shiny golden safety net to rely on.

"Oh, who gives a shit? I'll ask later," he said to a unresponsive roomie and an unresponsive room. Now that he had her where he wanted her, asking such frivolous questions was a waste of his time. He had things to do, namely dealing with the **** human lying on the floor. She didn't look like she was going to **** on her tounge or anything of the sort, and when he saw her skin glistening with sweat, he decided against moving her somewhere else. Though, now that he was looking at her, she was soaked, like she was just left out in the rain, most notably near the crotch, though that part wasn't sweat.

He didn't want a wet puddle on the floor, but there was absolutely no way he was going to dry her off. No, she was going to learn to clean up after herself. So, he walked to the closet and grabbed out a spare towel, then draped it over her like a blanket. He wasn't sure how long she was going to stay asleep, nor did he want to wait around and find out. But he did want to make sure she actually cleaned. He looked around aimlessly, as though an answer would appear out of nowhere. He was pleasantly suprised when, indeed, an answer did indeed present itself, lying on the table, looking back at him.

Her phone. He took it while she was hypnotized, and she was so preoccupied with said hypnosis that she didn't even realize it. He found out a few interesting things about it whilst he was playing with it during the time she spent under the trance. Most importantly was the fact that she didn't have a password. No face ID, no fingerprint scan, nothing. All Mack had to do was swipe his finger up and he could access everything Stacy's phone had to offer. He grabbed the phone and turned it on. He was greeted by a wallpaper of her in front of a fake lake, throwing up a peace sign.

He swiped up. A pretty, stylized display of every app she had filled the screen, but he was only interested in one; the system clock. He set a timer for one hour. She'd get one hour to sleep while he did something else, and then he'd make her get up and clean up the mess she was making. At least, that was the initial plan.

Shortly after setting the phone down, he began to think. He didn't want to limit his scope to just this. No, right now, he was in the mood to go beyond just Stacy. But he also didn't want to leave her unattended for too long, just in case she woke up fast enough to get ahold of someone. That would be a disaster. He did, however, still want to make her clean everything up. He sat on the couch for a couple minutes, snapping away with the countdown on the TV.

Eventually, he decided it would be best to just write a note. He turned the phone timer off, got a piece of paper, and jotted down everything he wanted her to do. He made it clear enough that even a 8-year-old would understand what to do, just in case. He taped it to her forehead to make sure she couldn't ignore it, then pocketed her phone to make sure she had no way out.

And now, he had options. Many options. He could go to one of Stacy's friends, do the same thing with them. Maybe he could go have a little extra fun with his golden toy. Or maybe he'd rather fix himself a nice, warm meal and wait for Stacy to open her eyes. Hell, he could even go to the park or the library of he really felt like it. So many possibilities, so many ideas...