For Research Purposes Only - Chapter Five, Making a List (Sep 26)

[PeculiarChangeling]

 

This is a light sequel to The Baby Bet - New protagonists, same world, set shortly after the end of that book.

If you haven't read The Baby Bet, this story should stand alone just fine on its own, but if you want to read things in order, you can find the complete, fully edited, 100% done version on my Ream! (Where it can be read for free without a subscription!)

https://reamstories.com/page/loqrfhtkkv/story/lpist7becw

 

 

Melody’s chest moved slowly, and Skip could feel her warm breath puffing against their skin.

They locked eyes with her, jaw set in determination.

“Are you comfortable?” Melody’s question felt like a joke, or an insult. Skip’s arms were pulled behind their back, wrists bound together, pulling on their shoulders. Their ankles were no better, thin white cuffs keeping them in place. 

Of course they weren’t comfortable. 

“Yes,” Skip promised, nodding. “I’m fine.”

Melody’s delicate fingers traced over Skip’s shoulder, idly taunting them with her freedom of movement. They were paralyzed, barely able to shift their wrists or adjust their stance.

A smile spread across Melody’s lips. “Good. Remember, you can end this at any time.” 

Skip nodded, though their breath was shallow and quick. Burying their nerves, they shook their head. “I’m not stupid.” 

“Alright.” Melody smirked, letting the moment of anticipation build. Only after several seconds of dominant eye contact did she reach down down and pick up the toy they’d chosen, holding it up so that Skip could clearly see when she clicked it on. “Then let’s begin.”

…

Three days earlier

Skip stood at their workbench, frowning in concentration as they worked at their task. They held a sheet of transfer paper in hand, printed with the logo of a local bank, and carefully aligned the image with a plain white mug.

Each mug cost a quarter, and the ink and transfer paper couldn’t have been more than five cents. By combining the two, they’d be left with a product they were being paid eleven dollars for. Some might call it the transformative power of labor, or an example of modern day alchemy.

Skip thought of it as an illustration, demonstrating how stupid people could be when it came to labels. 

With the label properly aligned, they lifted the mug, sliding it into a sleeve on the applicator machine. With the pull of a lever, the machine tightened around the label, pressing it down and applying heat. In five minutes, they’d have a printed mug.

It was the last mug of the batch–they needed one hundred done, and they’d completed ninety nine. A few other printing machines sat idle, but they wouldn’t overproduce–it only cost the company thirty cents, practically nothing, but they wouldn’t give away an eleven dollar mug for free.

While they had a moment, they meandered to the break room, nodding along to the podcast playing in their ear; a summary of a video game cheating scandal. Their job provided little in the way of intellectual stimulation, but it paid the bills, and they couldn’t complain about the difficulty. Nabbing a coke from the vending machine, they checked their messages, using every minute of the five they had to spare. 

As they returned to the printing room, however, they bumped into their boss. Frederick was about their height, though that’s where their similarities ended; he kept a full beard and a clean-shaven head, and his crisp polo shirts always contrasted with Skip’s loose work hoodies.

“What’re you working on right now?” he asked, glancing between Skip and the coke in their hand. They had to tune out the podcast a bit to listen to him, but they could multitask.

“Finishing up the mugs for Freedom Banking,” they replied. “Just waiting on the printers right now.”

He nodded. “Once you’ve got that done, you can go ahead and clock out–there’s not much left to do tonight.” 

Skip nodded, doing a little mental math. “Sure thing.”

Returning to the print room, they pulled the lever back to its starting position and took the final mug out. It was warm to the touch, but they held it by the handle and lifted it into the light, inspecting the print. They’d aligned the decal perfectly, and there hadn’t been any print defects.

Checking over their shoulder, Skip chucked the mug into the garbage bin, smiling slightly as it shattered. 

Reaching for another blank, they began the process again.

Finishing up the last mug of the set, they stacked it with the order, then began cleaning their workstation. 

After checking in with Frederick one more time, they hit the bathroom, taking their time with handwashing and navel-gazing before taking their satchel from their locker and clocking out. 

Their car was a piece of junk, but it had been a sweet deal. The hot pink paint had deep key scratches along both sides, a relic left by the previous owner’s girlfriend that had saved Skip a huge sum off the total. It ran fine, which was the important thing, and they’d never had to worry about anyone trying to break in. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as they started her up, but they’d have the sunrise to their back most of the way as they drove home.

The rest of the world came to life as their day came to an end, and that’s how they liked it. The early signs of rush hour traffic were already building on the northbound side of the highway, stifled drivers crammed in slow moving lanes, but Skip was driving south, heading home, cruising freely while society ground to a halt.

At home, they parked in the back. The house shared by their friend group had two garage bays, and Skip chipped in extra towards the mortgage for the privilege of parking there. Shouldering their satchel, they wandered in through the back door.

Grace was preparing coffee in the kitchen, and looked up with a smile. “Morning, Skip.” 

She was–as expected–still in her pajamas, a footed kitten sleeper with crotch snaps to access her diaper. She wasn’t incontinent, but if there was one rule their friend circle agreed to above all else, it was that they’d never judge. At least, not out loud.

“Morning,” Skip replied, doffing their hoodie and nodding to the coffee pot. “Is there extra?” 

“Before bed?” Grace asked, raising an eyebrow as she poured coffee into an oversized baby bottle. That bottle had been designated as the one for coffee, and it was rare to see Grace in the morning without it anymore. “Sure, help yourself.” 

“I’m staying up late,” Skip replied, moving to take the brew. “Do you know if Melody’s up yet?” 

“I heard movement a minute ago, she’ll probably be down here sooner or later.” Screwing on the lid, Grace began suckling her coffee. “How was work?”

“Not easy, but we got it done,” Skip lied, topping off their own mug. It had nothing on it, just a plain white mug, but it was theirs nonetheless–they’d smuggled it home after their first day at work.

The two of them moved around each other in comfortable silence while Grace made breakfast and Skip made dinner, one still waking up and the other tired from work. By the time Melody made her eventual trek down the stairs, Skip was halfway through a dinner of frozen pizza and Grace had finished her eggs. 

“You up to talk about the book?” Skip asked, sliding a mug of coffee across the table. Melody didn’t have her own special mug: She used whichever one was available, including, occasionally, Skip’s–though never Grace’s. “I’ve thought about it. I still want to see how it goes at first, but I’m willing to give it a shot.” 

Draining half the cup in one gulp, Melody nodded. “Give me a minute, then yeah.”

“Book?” Grace asked, rinsing her plate off in the sink. 

“A sex book,” Melody clarified. “Sort of a ‘Here’s how you don’t suck on a first date’ primer.”

Raising an eyebrow, Grace’s gaze fell on Skip, and they felt it as their willingness to talk retreated. Grace didn’t pry, she knew the score and knew Skip well enough not to press.

For Melody, though, Grace had no such reservations. “What happened to ‘They make new college boys every year’?” 

“Well that’s the thing, they tend to kinda suck,” Melody replied. “Best case, they know how to put on a condom, but if I wanted fifteen seconds of enthusiastic hip thrusting, I’d watch a Tiktok dance reel.”

While they spoke, the front door opened. At that time of day, it was odd enough for everyone to pause, and Grace even stepped to the side of the kitchen, glancing across the length of the house to see who’d come in.

“Good morning, Brains,” she called. “Did you sleep over at Connor’s?”

“Mmm,” he replied, shuffling in and nodding at the empty coffee pot. His eyes were a little red from lack of sleep, deep bags under them, and Skip got the sense that while he might have spent the night, there hadn’t been much sleeping.

“I’ll start a fresh pot, I finished it off,” Skip offered, knowing Brains would shoot them down.

“I’ve got it,” Brains replied, leaning in over the coffee grinder to adjust it to his exacting specifications. He’d drink anyone’s coffee, but if it was time to make a new pot, he’d do it ‘correctly’.

“Well, good luck with the project,” Grace said, resuming the conversation. “Be sure to collect lots of field data.” 

“That’s why Skip’s helping,” Melody explained, gulping down the rest of the coffee, her expression brightening. That got a positively perplexed glance from Grace, who could no longer keep her curiosity at bay.

“Change your mind about being on the sex train?” Grace asked, trying to keep it casual. Even Brains glanced over his shoulder, though his expression suggested he was trying to mentally catch up with the conversation more than anything.

“Oh yeah, one hundred percent,” Skip deadpanned, pushing the conversation as far away from sincerity as possible. “That’s everything I’m about now, just a bunch of dicks and vaginas, all the time. I just love jamming cylinders into orifices.” 

Coffee shot from Grace’s nose and she stepped to the sink, wiping her face with a washcloth. “Okay,” she snorted, dabbing away coffee from her mouth. “But seriously–how’s that work?”

“Melody needed an unbiased perspective,” Skip explained, perfectly hiding their discomfort with a casual smile. They’d already been so-so about the book project, and this was only cementing their gut instinct that agreeing to help had been a bad idea. Still, for now, they’d play the part–they could always back out later. “Someone who’s out of the loop and can provide the input of someone who’s not already familiar with the stuff we’re writing about. The plan is, she’ll write the stuff, then I’ll go through and read it and point out where I’m having trouble following, or where it needs more context, which parts make sense, all that.” 

“Right, okay, sure.” 

Up to speed, Brains chimed in. “Sex book?” 

“Sex book,” Melody confirmed. 

“Okay, why a book?” Brains asked. “How much stuff are you covering? ‘Book’ implies it’ll be pretty long.”

“We’re going to start and see how far it takes us,” Melody summarized, “But I at least want to cover BDSM One Oh One. Safe words, how to tie people up without cutting off their circulation, making sure your partner is enthusiastically consenting with whatever you want to do that night. Probably a basic rundown of toys, too–you would not believe how many cis guys are surprised you can use a vibrator on their dicks.”

Brains raised his eyebrows in shock. “You can use a vibrator on a dick?”

Grace blushed sympathetically, and Melody made an exasperated sound. “Brains–yes, you can–”

A grin spread across his face before she could finish, and Skip smirked. Brains could be oblivious, but he wasn’t that naive. He’d been yanking their chains.

“You’re the worst,” Melody said, shaking her head, though she smiled. “I swear, sometimes I think you’re awful at lying, then you drop something like that.”

“I try,” he said, smiling with satisfaction as he returned to his percolation quest. 

Stretching, Grace put her dishes in the dishwasher and straightened. “Are you two sure this is a good idea?”

Skip’s slight smile faded. “What do you mean?”

“Well, a book’s a lot of work,” Grace began, speaking slowly with a tone that suggested she was picking her words carefully. “Publishing is hard. I’ve made a few websites for authors, and–most of them don’t really go anywhere.” 

“I know what I’m doing,” Melody said. “I’m not just going to toss it on Amazon and cross my fingers, I’ve got a plan.”

“Okay, but…” Grace began, pursing her lips. “Skip. Come on–you make faces during kissy scenes in movies.” 

“No I don’t,” Skip shot back automatically, brow furrowing in annoyance. 

Brains didn’t quite smirk, but he did add, “You do, it’s like when Pearce feeds Grace broccoli.”

“He doesn’t know how to cook it–Whatever. My point is,” Grace continued, shaking off the tangent. “It seems like a bad fit. You shouldn’t do a ton of work that’s going to make you really uncomfortable, just to try and make money with…well, self publishing.” 

“It’s not going to make me uncomfortable,” Skip insisted. 

“Skip, come on.” Grace leaned over the table, making eye contact with them. “I know you.”

Skip returned her earnest gaze with a thin smile. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.” 

The idea of backing out suddenly seemed a lot less desirable–it was one thing to walk away, but another to give up.

How bad could it be?

 

...

The Kickstarter for The Baby Bet AUDIOBOOK only has four days to go! I'd *love* to hit the stretch goal to adapt Gamer Pants into audio, and it's also a great opportunity to nab your copy at the cheapest price it'll ever be available for!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/peculiarchangeling/the-baby-bet-coming-to-audio

[thedman]

Yay! So happy to see this bunch if characters back

[aldl4811]

Alright! Glad this world / characters are back. After the last story, I felt like I knew them all  

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 5/13/2024 at 12:16 PM, thedman said:

Yay! So happy to see this bunch if characters back

Thank you! I'm really enjoying writing more of them ❤️ 

On 5/13/2024 at 4:42 PM, aldl4811 said:

Alright! Glad this world / characters are back. After the last story, I felt like I knew them all  

I'm so glad to hear that - they really took on a life of their own, so I knew I had to give them more time to shine.

 

Chapter Two - "Chapter One"

Melody lounged on her bean bag chair, laptop open in front of her as she pecked away at the next chapter.

Don’t forget FRIES. All consent should be:

Freely given - It should go without saying that coercion is not consent

Revocable - Everyone involved is free to change their minds at any time

Informed - All parties should know what they’re signing up for

Enthusiastic - ‘I guess so’ isn’t consent!

Specific - This is like Informed! You need to know what you’re agreeing to, or you can’t really agree to it

Pursing her lips, she skimmed over the text, then tabbed back.

Revocable - Everyone involved is free to change their minds at any time, and you shouldn’t make assumptions about future behavior based on current behavior. Someone might be interested in trying something once, but that doesn’t mean they want to keep doing it in the future

Nodding, she looked over the paragraph one more time. It was good. Great, even. Basic, maybe, but that was the point. Screenshotting the half page, the tabbed over to Flutter–she refused to call it Z–and dropped the image with a caption.

‘Working on my book! Everything a beginner needs to know about safe, healthy kink and BDSM - I’m just trying to make the community a better place ❤️ ❤️ <3’ 

Posting the preview, Melody smiled and returned to the document, beginning to write the next paragraph, before a notification interrupted her flow. She glanced over at Skip, who had taken a spot on Melody’s bed to edit, then clicked on the notification. 

‘New activity in the following document - Sex Book placeholder title’

Pulling up the correct section in the shared doc, she scrolled down to Skip’s commentary.

When using restraints–be they rope, cuffs, or leather–always make sure you provide a degree of mobility. Make sure to leave enough space so that circulation and blood flow aren’t cut off.

Suggestion: Make sure to leave enough space to fit two fingers beneath the restraint, so that circulation and blood flow aren’t cut off. 

Glancing up, Melody asked, “Two fingers?” She hadn’t written that–and Skip wasn’t supposed to know about BDSM beyond the most cliche tropes. 

“Yeah.” Skip kept their eyes on their own laptop while they spoke. “‘Enough space’ is pretty vague, I wasn’t sure if that meant like…’as long as my fingers don’t turn blue’ or ‘it should hang loose around my wrist’, so I looked it up and two fingers seems to be a good test.” 

“Right.” Nodding, Melody accepted the suggestion. “Though if you’re confused, you can just ask me and I’ll fix it.”

“Sure.” Skip pursed their lips, returning their focus to the document.

Melody shifted for a moment, then went back and undid the correction. Her finger hovered over the trackpad of her laptop for a moment, hesitating, then she shook her head and cleared her throat. “It’s just, I want to make sure we’re being clear.”

Skip raised an eyebrow. “That’s why I suggested we change it.”

“Okay, but I know the ‘two fingers’ thing, and I didn’t put it in there on purpose,” Melody explained, setting aside her computer and shifting to stand by the bed. “Give me your hand.”

The corner of their mouth tweaking up in a skeptical half-smile, Skip offered their hand, palm facing forward. Melody raised her own, pressing their fingers together, emphasizing the difference–Skip was just bigger than Melody, and their hands were no exception. 

“Your pinkie’s almost as big as my thumb,” Melody pointed out. “So, if we’re trying to be clear, what’s ‘two fingers’? Yours? Or mine?” 

Skip pulled their hand back and glanced away. “Sure. So what do we put instead?” 

“You need a feel for it, it’s hard to just say,” Melody explained, shaking her head. “Never mind, I’ll rewrite it.”

Scooting forward, Skip shook their head. “No, you said that’s why you needed me. To take vibes and put them into words. So let’s figure this out–how much pressure is too much?” Raising one hand, they squeezed their own wrist for demonstration, barely wrapping two fingers all the way around. “Like, this? Looser?” 

Melody rolled her eyes. “If you’re squeezing down on the skin, that’s too tight. Your hand isn’t big enough.” A thought struck her, and she got to her feet, crossing the room towards her closet as she said, “Hold on.”

Skip waited, puffing out their cheeks and sighing as they waited. 

Melody's closet held a menagerie of debauchery. An entire shelf was given over to toys–vibrators, dildos, plugs. Impact play implements were categorized by type, and a plastic bin held lube, condoms, and dental dams with enough of a supply to outlast the apocalypse.

She lingered lovingly over her collection for a moment before reaching to a hook on the wall, taking down a length of rope from her array of restraints.

Walking back, she held up the coiled rope for Skip to see. “I’d like to show you, okay?”

Skip extended their wrists without argument. “If you say so.” 

“Alright, then take off your hoodie.” Melody said, nodding to their baggy sleeves. “Those are going to get in the way.” 

Hesitating for a moment, Skip tugged at the wrist of one sleeve before simply pulling them back, bunching the fabric around their elbows. “This is fine.”

“Are you sure that’s comfortable?” Melody asked, eyeing the clump of wadded cotton riding up to their shoulders. 

Skip shrugged. “It’s cool.” 

Nodding, Melody lifted the rope, doubling it over itself before wrapping the coil around their wrist. “Okay, do you feel that?”

“It’s soft,” Skip commented, sounding surprised. “I expected it to chafe more.” 

“It’s silk,” Melody replied, holding the rope in place, pinching it with her finger to keep out any slack. “I don’t skimp. But do you feel how you have room to rotate your wrist without it digging in anywhere?” 

Skip followed her suggestion, turning their wrist. “Okay, I get it. It’s snug, but there’s no squeezing pressure.”

“Exactly,” Melody said, moving to secure the rope in place with a quick bowline knot. Her fingers moved deftly, lacing the rope around itself and pulling it snug, and when she had it tied she automatically slid two fingers beneath the rope cuff, testing the gap between rope and skin. 

Skip didn’t comment. 

“I feel like I could slip out of this,” Skip said, using their free hand to fidget with the rope cuff. “If I pulled hard, made a fist, and pressed my thumb to my palm. Or I could just untie it with my teeth.”

“Probably,” Melody conceded, taking Skip’s fidgeting hand away and moving to bind a second coil of rope around it. “No bondage is going to be foolproof–and that’s a good thing. We’re not trying to make you actually helpless. What if I had a heart attack or something in the middle of the scene?” 

“Okay.” Skip nodded thoughtfully as Melody tied their wrists together, leaving a length of rope between both hands so that it worked like a pair of handcuffs. “So it’s not a problem if I can escape-artist Houdini my way free?”

“No. And,” Melody said, reaching over to tap on her nightstand, “always keep something sharp on hand to cut the rope in emergencies. How does that feel?” 

Skip extended their hands, testing the restriction, pulling the rope taut to see how far they could spread their hands. “I think I can describe this.” Raising their wrists to inspect the knots, their gaze narrowed thoughtfully, though their reaction seemed purely academic. “What do you think about a visual aid?” 

Nodding quickly, Melody reached for her phone. “That's a great idea.” 

Pulling back their hands slightly, Skip added, “I don't want to be the model.” 

Keeping the camera lowered, Melody nodded. “Can I just use this as a placeholder, and we'll get someone and do a photoshoot once the book is done?” 

Considering for a moment, Skip nodded, extending their hands to show off the rope work.

Melody snapped a couple pictures, then put a finger beneath the rope and pulled, snapping a couple more, getting different angles of her handiwork. While she did, Skip pulled at the bits of rope they could reach, toying idly with the fibers. “We should make sure to write about how it won’t really be foolproof, too–I think a lot of people won’t know that, I expected it to be more…binding.”

Smirking and unable to help herself, Melody reached forward, taking the rope that hung between Skip’s wrists and pulling sharply forward. Skip’s hands followed the rope, the restraint acting as an extremely effective lead, so that greater size and strength were completely canceled out. The surprise helped, too, but more than anything, it was the rope cuffs that did their job, demonstrating that ‘escapable’ did not mean ‘ineffective’.

“It’s not about permanence, it’s about control,” Melody began, her smirk spreading into a full grin. “Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Skip shot, shaking their head and lifting their wrists. “Take these off, okay?” 

Melody nodded, the thrill going out of her a bit as she moved to deftly undo both knots, leaving the rope to fall into Skip’s lap. “Did that help?”

“It helped,” Skip said, rubbing their wrists, though their skin showed no redness or signs of discomfort. Pulling their sleeves back down, they added, “I get it.”

“Cool.” Melody picked up the rope and coiled it in her hands. 

Skip glanced back at their laptop, then shook their head and yawned. “I’m getting pretty tired–it’s almost eleven, I should probably get some sleep.” 

Halfway to putting the rope back, Melody looked over her shoulder and widened her eyes by a fraction. “Oh? I feel like we were making good progress.” 

“Yeah, but I know when sleep calls,” Skip explained, shaking their head. “I don’t want to be dead on my feet at work tonight, we’ve been getting hammered lately and I’m barely keeping up as it is.”

“Right, okay,” Melody said, checking her phone. “I should probably get working, anyway, it’s about to be peak delivery time.” 

Closing up their laptop, Skip blinked heavily a few times, emphasizing how hard the fatigue had suddenly hit them. “It’s a good start, though,” they offered, as they shuffled to the door. “Once we get it done, I'm thinking it's going to be a big hit.” 

“Yeah,” Melody agreed absently. 

As Skip left, Melody couldn't shake the feeling that she'd done something wrong. 

She shrugged it off. She hadn't said anything inappropriate, Skip was emotionally bulletproof, and even if both of those statements were wrong, it wasn't her job to babysit anyone's feelings. 

If Skip wanted to raise an issue, they could. In the meantime, Melody had work to do. 

Checking her phone, she was distracted from work by a couple notifications. Her preview had a few replies, and she scrolled down, reading them.

‘Can’t wait!’

‘Looks cool!’

‘P U S S Y I N B I O’

‘Melody, who the fuck are you to tell people how to do healthy kink? If you want to make the community a better place, delete your account.’

Melody stared at the last one, rereading the words twice more before she turned off her phone screen and shook her head. 

Deliveries could wait, she wanted to get more writing done first. 

 

...

Great news! The audiobook for The Baby Bet was fully funded, and is now starting production!

In the meantime, if you want to support my writing (and jump ahead to early access chapters of this story,) you can do so here:

(All my writing is funded by supporters like you!)

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Three - Quentin Roue

Quentin lay on his mattress, counting the paint dribbles on the wall. 

(Drip. Drip. Drip.)

His apartment was a crappy box, and he suspected that the thick landlord special of white paint had been slathered on so heavily to hide something worse. (Cigarette smoke? Mold? Blood?) 

Regardless of the source, he had nothing better to do with his evening. He’d convinced himself that independent lodging would be better than a dorm, but now the matchbox he’d rented out felt more like a trap. He never heard about parties, he never bumped into friends on the way to class, he just went home and laid in bed.

His pity party was interrupted by a buzz on his phone. An email about an assignment, maybe, or a class update. Nobody ever messaged him just to hang out or talk, and…

He blinked as he saw the little flame icon next to the notification. A connection on Matchbox had replied. 

Quentin sat up. He didn’t get replies. His attempts at online dating were, almost exclusively, an exercise in window shopping, nobody ever actually connected with him. Tabbing to the app, he pulled up the message, heart leaping as he read it.

MagicMelody: ‘You’re cute.’

(Holy crap.) 

Heart racing and fingers buzzing, Quentin hurried to type his reply. 

QuizzicallyQuentin: ‘You’re cute too.’

MagicMelody: ‘Got any good pickup lines?’

He thought for a moment, but he felt unprepared to put on any charm. Paralyzed for half a minute, he finally thought of something clever.

QuizzicallyQuentin: ‘They must call you Melody because it’s easy for you to get stuck in my head.’  

After hitting send, he winced. It felt a little obvious, and the phrasing was a little awkward. Would she even get the joke?

MagicMelody: LOL! That’s great.

Quentin beamed, but before he could even reply, his connection sent another message.

MagicMelody: ‘Want to get coffee?’

QuizzicallyQuentin: ‘It’s kinda late, coffee would mean I couldn’t sleep.’

MagicMelody: ‘Well, I wasn’t planning on sleeping afterwards.’ 

He stared, eyes widening as though he’d just read off the numbers for a winning lottery ticket. 

How–

Why him?

He hurried to reply. 

QuizzicallyQuentin: ‘Coffee sounds great.’

Any fatigue or boredom left him completely as he rolled out of bed, scrambling to clean himself up. A date. A date. A girl was interested in him.

He took a hasty shower and got dressed in his finest–or his cleanest–clothes, already feeling a lump in his throat as he tried to think what he’d say. 

Thirty minutes later, he found himself sitting in front of one of the prettiest girls he’d ever met, waiting at a cafe table for their far-too-late-evening caffeine boost. 

He had to admit that his judgment of her appearance might be biased, but beauty was in the eye of the beholder after all. Her strawberry blonde hair fell in graceful curls, and when she smiled at him, he knew it was genuine from the way her eyes sparkled. 

“So are you enrolled?” he asked. 

“No, I just live locally and work in the area,” Melody explained. “But you’re a student, right? What’re you studying?”

“Geology,” he explained. “I’m setting myself up for a career staring at rocks–the ‘watching paint dry’ industry just seemed too overcrowded.”

She laughed. (God she’s got a pretty laugh.) “That’s fascinating, though–studying the Earth.”

“Honestly, I’ll probably just get a job doing geologic surveys,” he admitted. “It’s about the only way to make money with this degree unless you win the grant lottery. There’s some pretty fascinating stuff being done with the mining industry, figuring out ways to dig that won’t leave the environment trashed once the mine runs dry–I’d love to work on that, if I can, but…you probably don’t want to hear a lecture on sustainable mining practice, do you?” 

She giggled, covering her hand with her mouth. “It’s interesting, really. And it’s important work, too–I think too many people take geologists for granite.” 

He blinked, taking a moment to process the pun, then snorted. Immediately he worried that the awkward laugh would turn her off, but she didn’t seem to mind. 

Even if she was interested in his studies, he knew better than to just talk about himself. Things were going well–Quentin wouldn’t spoil it by being selfish. “So what do you do?” 

“I’m paying the bills doing food delivery,” she explained, “But really, I’m a writer.” 

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, taking the obvious opportunity to let Melody talk about herself. “What do you write?” 

She returned the smile. “Well–I’m working on an educational book, sort of a self-help thing.” 

“Oh yeah?” Quentin began, before wincing at his own lack of charm. Asking the same question back-to-back, he may as well have replaced himself with a chatbot. “I mean–please, tell me more.”

Her warm smile soothed his concern. Melody hadn’t noticed, or she didn’t mind. Before she could answer, the barista called out their order, and Quentin glanced to the side to see two paper cups waiting for them.

“Hold that thought?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“Of course.” 

(Don’t blow this. It’s going well. She likes you.) Quentin repeated the mantra to himself as he got the drinks–his anxiety was spiking, fear that he’d blow the one good opportunity he’d had lately at a bit of companionship.

Melody was scowling at her phone when he got back, and his heart sank. 

“Something wrong?” he asked, knowing that something had come up. 

“No,” she replied, shaking her head and returning the phone to her purse.

He hesitated. It didn’t seem wise to press if Melody didn’t want to talk about it, but he also didn’t want to just ignore her feelings. Leaving it up to her, he offered the drink she’d ordered and left things opened ended. “Alright. If something came up, I get it though, you don’t need to protect my feelings.” 

She accepted her drink, sipping the dirty chai. “I’m really fine, Quentin, don’t worry about it.”

“Alright.” He took a long pull of his own drink, an extra-pump mocha, covering up the bitter espresso taste with sweetness, bolstering his courage. “Well–you were telling me about your book?”

Melody grinned. “Why don’t I just show you?” 

…

“Are you familiar with safe words?” 

Melody stood over Quentin, whose heart hammered in his chest as he tried to remember how to speak. Her room contrasted sharply with his own lame apartment–it was lived in, decorated. Band T-shirts were hung against one wall like posters, and while a overhead bulb light was attached to the ceiling, it stayed off, with the room’s lighting instead coming from an eclectic collection of lamps with RGB-bulbs, casting the walls in pink light.

Sitting on the edge of her plush queen bed, he found his tongue well enough to say, “Like…I say ‘banana’ and we stop, right?” 

The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. “You’ve got the basics, but it’s more than that. We’re going to use the stoplight system, okay?”

“Okay.” He paused, then added, “I mean–I don’t know what that means. I’m colorblind, so, does that matter?”

“That’s fine, Quentin. It’s just words. If I ask for a safe word, and you’re okay, you say, ‘Green’,” Melody explained. “Green is ‘All good.’ At any point, you can also say ‘Yellow’, which means, ‘Slow down and let’s talk’, or ‘Red’, which means ‘Stop immediately’.”

“Got it, okay. Stoplights. That makes sense.” Quentin nodded, then looked down.

“You’ve got a question,” Melody said. Not a question, a statement. “Quentin, I need you to communicate clearly with me, okay? If you’re confused, tell me.

He felt like an idiot–needing basic concepts explained to him, but Melody’s firm insistence gave him the courage to speak up, though he kept his eyes downcast. “What if I want to…keep doing stuff, but I need to stop right away? Do I say ‘Red’ or ‘Yellow’?”

“Good boy.” Melody took a half step closer so that she was right above him, and his heart leapt into his throat at the praise. Reaching out, she touched his chin, directing him to look in her eyes. “If you need me to stop, say Red. It doesn’t have to end the night, just what we’re doing. Yellow is okay too, but I’d rather you use the stronger word if you’re not sure. Okay?” 

He nodded, feeling safe enough to reply honestly. “Okay.”

“Good boy.” She smiled. “But if you do want to stop, that’s okay too.”

“Okay.” Quentin was repeating himself, and he knew it, but Melody didn’t seem to mind. 

“I’m going to tie you up,” Melody continued, moving her hand to rest on his shoulder. “Have you been blindfolded before?” 

“Eh…no. I mean, yes. But not–” he cleared his throat, blushing. “Only when playing ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’.” 

Melody’s smile spread. “Well, if you feel comfortable with that, I’d like to.”

He nodded. “I can do that. Are you going to gag me?”

She shook her head. “You haven’t had any practice with nonverbal safe words. I want you to be able to speak easily.”

“Okay.” He nodded, breath catching a little. 

“Once you’re tied up, I’ve got a couple toys I’m going to use,” Melody continued. “I don’t think you’ve used a plug before, have you?”

Quentin shook his head, blushing. “I’m sorry, I–I’m just not very–”

“Shh.” Putting a finger over his lips, Melody shook her head. “Just answer my questions. You don’t need to feel bad for being new.” 

“Okay.” He nodded. “No I haven’t.” 

“I think you’d enjoy it. Can we try with a small one?”

Quentin would have agreed to be flogged with chains, for how her smile made him swell up inside. “Yes.”

She smiled down at him one more time. “Good boy. Now, take off your clothes, and I’ll get the toys, okay?”

Quentin didn’t need to be told twice. Fingers shaking, he moved to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off hastily while Melody moved to the closet. 

He watched her as she opened the door, curiosity mounting, wanting to see just how many toys she had. As Melody stepped into her closet, he saw her shoulders slump ever so slightly, and he frowned.

(Is something wrong?)

He hesitated, halfway through slipping off his pants. When she turned to glance back at him, though, she wore a broad smile, and he realized he’d misread her body language.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

Quentin looked down at himself, then back at her. “Yes, absolutely.”

She smirked. “Then do as you’re told–and once you’re naked, lie down. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good boy.”

…

Quentin stared at the ceiling, chest heaving. 

“That was…”

“Good, right?” Melody asked.

He was sweaty and delirious, warmth and bliss radiating off him as he lay on her bed. 

There was no question about it. That had been the best sex of his life.

Heck, it might have been the best night of his life. 

Melody sat up in the bed next to him, stretching. 

Even her back was beautiful. 

“If you want, you’re welcome to use our shower,” she said, leaning to pick up her shirt from the floor. “There’s lots of clean towels, just put yours in the hamper.”

“Oh, sure,” Quentin said, nodding. “Melody…you’re fucking incredible, you know that?”

She smirked over her shoulder and nodded. “I’ve heard it a couple times.” 

After a few heartbeats passed, he asked, “Did I do good?”

Half dressed, she got to her feet, looking down on him. “You were just fine, Quentin.”

“Really?” He sat up on his elbows. His heart was still hammering, he felt a spike of concern–he’d kind of just laid there for most of it. Sure, it’s because he couldn’t move, but still. 

“Really,” she replied as she slipped on her panties. Looking up for just a moment, she gave him a quick smile. “Really, Quentin. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Alright.” Lying back down, he asked, “Do you want to do this again?”

Exhaling through her nose in what could almost be a laugh, Melody shrugged. “Sure. I’ll call you sometime.”

Sighing in relief, Quentin smiled.

(I think I’m in love.)

 

...

Poor Quentin - he has no idea what he's in for!

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[thedman]

That us a juicy cliffhanger, I hope we don't have ro wait too long to learn what happens next

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 8/4/2024 at 11:18 PM, thedman said:

That us a juicy cliffhanger, I hope we don't have ro wait too long to learn what happens next

...sorry about that!

 

...

Chapter Four - The Offer

Skip lay in bed, staring at the pitch black ceiling above them.

It was the middle of the afternoon, but they weren’t particularly sleepy, they just didn’t want to get up. As long as they were in bed, they could just exist. 

That quiet peace was broken by a persistent bzzz-bzzz. One notification they could ignore, or two, but as the number stretched into a half dozen little vibration pulses, they gave up on trying to ignore it.

Melody was having herself a busy afternoon, it seemed. New comments and replies to Skip’s feedback were popping up constantly, prompting Skip to disable notifications before they began skimming what Melody was doing. Comment replies and accepted corrections were lined up, and every few moments, another note got marked as approved as Melody chewed through Skip’s suggested edits.

As a pleasant surprise, she was even accepting most of the suggestions, only occasionally leaving something in place, and always with a decent reason for why; Melody occasionally declined to go into further depth because that would be clarified in a future segment, or preferred more vernacular over formally accurate language. 

Either way, it was a flurry of progress, and Skip could see that in addition to the edits, Melody had shared a pair of new chapters with them, both of which were already several pages into their respective draft states. 

Sitting up, Skip grimaced, then put on a smile, the first part of their wardrobe. Kicking out of their baggy pajama pants, they traded them for a pair of baggy sweatpants, as well as a loose plain t-shirt to go under their hoodie. It wasn’t much of a fashion look, but the only people they’d be seeing that day would be coworkers and the wasters themselves, so they didn’t have much reason to dress up.

All that done, they left their dark little corner of the world and shuffled down the hall to knock on Melody’s door, forcing a yawn as they did so.

“Door’s open!” Melody called. 

Skip pushed open the door, and was assaulted by bright daylight streaming in through the bedroom windows, wincing out of their yawn. “Morning, Melody.”

“Did you just wake up?” Melody inquired. She was sitting in bed, bundled up with blankets and her laptop as she typed away, and had an intense-but-pleased expression that stayed focused on her screen.

“Mhmm,” Skip said. “I saw you got a bunch done–once I have some breakfast, want to go over it and I can run over the new stuff?”

“Sure, but…” Melody glanced up, flashing a triumphant grin, putting a little musical flair in her tone. “I’ve got some news.”

Skip tilted their head, leaning in the doorway. “What’s that?”

“So, I posted some segments from what we’ve done on Flutter, just to sort of test the waters, see how people were responding,” Melody explained. “It got some good responses, especially the bit we put together about safe bondage. Don’t worry–I didn’t post any of the test photos.” 

Skip kept a frown off their face, though the idea of their unfinished work being posted for strangers to criticize didn’t exactly fill them with glee. “We got good feedback? That’s great.”

“That’s not the news,” Melody said, shaking her head, a grin spreading across her face. “Skip–we might have a publisher. A representative got in touch, they want us to publish through them once the book is done. It might be a bad deal, I don’t want to make any promises yet, but the initial numbers are looking really good. Thirty percent royalties, which is way above industry standard, and they’re really enthusiastic about the project. They might even pay for us to do that photoshoot we talked about!” 

Widening their eyes, Skip considered the implications. That was good news–great news, even. It meant this wasn’t just a hobby whose potential profits were effectively a gamble; they were talking about a real business venture with reasonably likely profits. Even if this first offer fell through, the quick response suggested there was a market in place for their book to flourish.

When they realized they hadn’t responded for a few seconds and the pause was becoming awkward, they said, “That’s great!” 

“I know, right? I’m talking to them now, but I had a burst of energy and wanted to sort of harness it.” 

Skip pondered for a moment, then nodded to show enthusiasm. “Alright–quick breakfast, then I’ll be back up. Okay?”

Melody gave a thumbs up, and Skip found their attentions split as they went downstairs to have a late breakfast, processing how they felt about that revelation. 

It took them a few minutes standing next to the air fryer before they could be certain that they were feeling unhappy about the news, and it wasn’t until they were dumping in taquitos–the breakfast of champions–to heat up before they could put a finger on why they were unhappy.

A publisher this early meant their project had promise, but it also boxed them in. They were only getting started, with a handful of demo chapters and Melody’s ambition to keep them going. What if they got through more of the book and realized they wanted to go in a different direction? Or what if the publisher started demanding changes from them, to suit a particular audience? 

They hadn’t realized how defensive they’d feel about their work when it was so new and unpolished, but already, they wanted to snatch the book back and shield it from anyone who might want to take control.

And, then again…a publisher was quality control. Sure, they liked the demo excerpts they’d seen, but it was always possible, or even likely, that they might change their minds once the book was finished. 

It was maybe hasty to start preemptively worrying about rejection, but Skip couldn’t help it. They didn’t want their work to be rejected.

Of course, both those problems had a solution. 

Just make the book good. 

Not only would a high-quality book mean they’d never have to fear rejection for quality reasons, it meant that they’d have more publishers courting them. It was like Melody had said–if they already had one in just a day, how much more could they get if they were actively courting a publisher?

They just had to be good enough that they couldn’t be judged.

The air fryer dinged to indicate that their food was done, but Skip was no longer feeling particularly hungry. Taking out their phone, they shot Brains a text, asking if he’d be home soon and would want some leftovers. As expected, he responded quickly in the affirmative–Brains rarely turned down free food–and so they left the taquitos in the air fryer and instead snagged a soda from the fridge. 

Melody wouldn’t be expecting them for a while longer, so they loitered, sipping cola and mulling the situation over.

Did they tell Melody that they didn’t want the publishing deal? That seemed like a recipe for a bad time; there was no easy way to explain that they were so turned off by the prospect of oversight that they wanted to give up such a strong opportunity. 

And there was the problem to agreeing to projects like this, laid out plainly: Skip had put themselves in a position that they couldn’t easily get out of. 

When a socially apt amount of time had passed, they returned upstairs, retrieving their own laptop before walking to Melody’s door. They opened it without knocking, strolling inside. “I think–”

Melody raised her eyebrows, frozen in the middle of taking a selfie with her arm raised and her naked legs spread, laptop set aside and blankets spread around her tastefully. “Uh–”

“Sorry,” Skip said, quickly closing the door and waiting for a moment. 

“Come in,” Melody called a second later. 

When Skip opened the door a second time, Melody was shimmying back into her pants, the slightest blush on her face. Skip glanced down apologetically. “Sorry, I thought you’d still be writing.”

Melody shrugged, picking up her phone. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just texting this girl, but she lives like an hour out of town so it might not even go anywhere.” 

Nodding, Skip walked in, pulling out the chair by Melody’s desk. “I take it that guy you came in with last night was a one-off?”

Smirking, Melody rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. You have to be something special to get a second night with me, and he was…let’s just say, not that.”

“Sorry you had a bad time,” Skip said, opening their laptop and waiting for it to power up. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. He was pretty much just a dildo with legs as far as actual sexual prowess goes, but it was a good learning experience.” Melody frowned over her phone for a moment, adding a filter to her selfie before sending it off.

Skip glanced at her, sure that Melody was trying to set up a particular reply. Seeing no reason not to take the bait, they asked, “What’d you learn?” 

“Oh, I didn’t learn anything, but he learned a lot. It’s a good reminder that I know what I’m doing, and that I can just ignore the naysayers.” She smiled, picking her laptop up once again. “I’m the best at what I do, and what I do is teach wide-eyed rookies how to have a little fun.” 

Pausing, Skip thought about tossing in a question. (What naysayers?) Instead, they said, “So, does the publishing deal look pretty solid?”

“So far, so good. I’m not signing anything just yet, but I explained what our goals are, and they sounded very on board.” 

“Okay. So…we should make sure we do our best on this, huh?”

“That’s always the goal, isn’t it? We/re here to knock it out of the park, and so far, we’re doing it.” 

“Right.” Skip pursed their lips. “Hmm.” 

Looking up at them, Melody caught the uncertainty. “Are you worried about something?”

“Just…trying to make sure we stick to a high standard,” Skip explained. “I want to do our best.”

“Well then, we can just keep doing what we’ve been doing, because I think it’s been really good.” Melody turned to face Skip a little more directly. “And besides, you know the saying, ‘you can’t edit a blank page’. It’s better to get something finished, then if there are quality issues, we can fix it later.” 

“Right, right.” Skip nodded again. “I just…” 

“I get it.” Melody’s expression softened sympathetically. “This makes it kind of real, and that’s kind of scary, but I trust myself to do a good job writing, and I trust you to edit it well too.”

The vote of confidence didn’t exactly fix Skip’s concerns, but it helped, just a bit. “I guess…I don’t know. You’re right, it’s higher stakes now, and I want to try to put our best foot forward.” 

Melody nodded, thinking for a moment before she replied. “Okay…here’s an idea, feel free to tell me no.”

“Yeah?” Skip asked, tilting their head. “Let’s hear it.”

Face turning slightly pink, Melody asked, “Well, what if I tied you up again?”

 

...

Sorry this update took so long to post! I've had a heck of a month - some good, some bad, but all very time consuming - and fell off my posting schedule somewhat. I'll be seeking to remedy that in the coming days!

 

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Five - Making a List

Melody felt a shock run through her as the suggestion left her mouth. Quickly, before Skip could respond, she added, “I mean, I think it would be good for the–you know. Our last chapter, the one where I showed you how the knots work, it was the best one we’ve done so far.”

She wasn’t quite clear on why she felt so defensive. It wasn’t as though she’d ever been bashful about sex, and this wasn’t even about sex, it was just about a demonstration of knots and restraints. And yet, even with that in mind, Melody was blushing. 

She was blushing.

It was a godsend that Skip didn’t acknowledge the pinkness rising in her cheeks. “Oh, sure–I mean, we’d kind of already talked about that, hadn’t we?”

Melody’s heart rate settled, though confusion still kept her from relaxing completely. “Did we?”

“You wanted to take placeholder photos,” Skip pointed out. “And like…you can’t tie yourself up, so how else would we do that?”

“Oh! Right.” Melody nodded, relieved that the faux pas had passed. “Well, this would be a bit more than that. I would want to give you sort of…the ‘full experience’, so you can get the feelings down on paper as precisely as possible.” 

Skip rubbed at their cheek, thinking for a moment. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Melody assured them. “I just didn’t want you to feel weird about it, you know? I’m obviously not proposing anything sexual, but it is sex-adjacent. I’m obviously fine, I’m just confirming that you are.”

“I’m cool with it,” Skip replied immediately. “I mean, obviously depending on what the details are, but in a general sense? Absolutely.”

Sitting up, Melody swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat upright, walking to her closet. “I think we should start with a sort of suite of the basics–I have a bunch of restraints, and then there’s a million things we can do with rope. Do you want to make a list, and we’ll start just knocking them out one at a time?”

Skip produced their phone, nodding along. “Sure–I’ll make a list. Are we going to be documenting how to do all this safely? Focusing on how it feels?”

“Both,” Melody said, pulling out a plastic bin full of toys and scanning the contents. “Some of this is safer than others, like…it’s possible to use a pair of fuzzy handcuffs unsafely, but that’s really hard to do, while you can cut off blood flow with rope if you’re careless.”

“Gotcha,” Skip said. “I’ll add ‘tips and tricks’ to the list, too. How are we categorizing all this? Difficulty? Type?” 

Melody glanced over her shoulder, standing in the closet doorway. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just making assumptions here, but it seems like there would be easy rope bondage, and hard rope bondage, and easy restraints and hard restraints. Do we want to group together different restraints by how hard they are to do, or by what materials you’re using?”

Melody tapped a finger on her lip, chewing on the question for a moment. “Both? We should have sections by type, because that tends to be a preference thing. Rope people really like rope, but some people just don’t want to mess with it. But we can tag stuff by difficulty.”

Smirking, Skip suggested, “What if we used rock climbing ratings? Scale from one to ten, with decimals and plus signs and stuff.” 

Quirking an eyebrow, Melody looked back at them. “When did you ever go rock climbing?”

Skip shrugged, smile falling away. “It’s just an idea.”

“I think that works. We can workshop if and see if there’s a better fit, too,” Melody decided, looking into her closet. “Okay, so, rope–lots of rope stuff. For physical restraints, there’s cuffs, which kind of get used for everything. Collars, you can also do restraints around the waist or body. Gags are a big thing, and I’ve got a spreader bar, but besides that it’s mostly just about how you combine different elements. Handcuffs clipped to a bed are way different from handcuffs clipped to each other, or to a collar, or to your ankles. Add a hard point, and you’ve got even more variables.”

“Slow down,” Skip interjected, thumbs blurring as they took notes on their phone. “Let’s make a list first. Physical restraints–what do you have on hand, and is there anything you don’t have that we should at least mention?”

“Puh-lease.” Melody rolled her eyes, shooting them a cocky grin. “I have everything.”

Skip looked around the room and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see a St. Andrew’s Cross in here anywhere.” 

“Everything that fits into my room,” Melody clarified, rolling her eyes. “If you want me to tie you to a cross, we can go to a club.”

“Okay, but that’s a good point–toy use at clubs! We could have a whole chapter on that. Club etiquette, how to find them, all that.”

Melody pursed her lips, falling quiet for a moment. “Yeah…that might be beyond the scope. I don’t want to spread out too much. This is a book for beginners and home hobbyists. Besides–clubs all have their own rules, so we’d never be able to make a comprehensive list of every possible thing you might encounter, if people want to go to a club they should just ask the club.”  

“Alright,” Skip said, reading their note aloud as they made it. “Keep…it…in…the…bedroom.” 

Scanning all the available toys in their closet, Melody again hesitated. “Okay, I’m just going to veto testing out impact play. I don’t think you’ll be interested in that, so I’m not going to ask.” Moving on, she looked down to her other toys, thinking–

“Hold up.” 

Melody stepped out of her closet, turning to fully face Skip. “What?”

“Who says I won’t do impact toys?” Skip gave her an acute stare, challenging Melody to try and argue. 

“Spankings–any impact play, really, it hurts. You wouldn’t enjoy it.” Melody shook her head. If Skip lacked a sex drive, they wouldn’t have any positive side effects to a sexy spanking. “And–”

“And I’d tie myself up just for fun? I do things I don’t like all the time, Melody.” Skip shrugged. “My day job isn’t something I enjoy, but I do it because it pays the bills. I’m doing things that aren’t ‘fun’ one way or another, so if I’m going to pick, I’d rather do something that’s at least creatively fulfilling.”

Melody looked back into her closet, then returned her gaze to Skip. “I’m not sure that’s a great attitude.” 

Skip wobbled a hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. “Botanists probably don’t love sweating buckets in the rainforest, but they put up with it because they enjoy the research.”

“So, to you, sex is like an exotic fern?”

“More like one of those plants that’s interesting to look at but smells kinda gross.”

Melody snorted at the mental image that conjured. “Okay. You’re sure?”

“I never thought you’d be the one to question my sexuality,” Skip said, deadpan.

Shaking her head, Melody began to clarify. “I’m asking if you’re sure about trying a spanking.”

Skip rolled their eyes, unphased. “I’m messing with you–and I’m sure that I’m willing to try it. If you’ve got a stronger arm than I expected, I can back out then.”

The corner of Melody’s mouth turned up at the challenge. “Oh, trust me–it’s not a question of if I can make someone Red. I pull my punches.”

“If you say so,” Skip decided. 

“If we’re doing impact toys, are we doing other pain stuff?” Melody asked. “I’ve got E-stim and clamps. I don’t really like needle play, so I don’t have anything for that.” 

Skip continued to tap away at their notes. “Adding that to the list. Do you have a kneeling board?”

Melody found herself getting annoyed again. “Can I get through my list, please?” 

“Okay, it just seemed like it would fit on the ‘pain toys’ list. Also, am I going to use any of this stuff on you? I need to write it both ways–how to take it, how to get it.” 

Rolling her eyes, Melody said, “I’m not a sub.”

“Neither am I, I just need to be able to write about it.”

“Right. We’ll figure something out for that.”

Facing her closet, Melody was about to move on, when another question cut through her focus.

“Do we want to get Grace to help?” 

“Why would we–” Melody began, but she got it pretty quickly. “Oh. You’re thinking about adding a chapter on diaper kink stuff?” 

“Diaper kink and adult baby stuff. You don’t do that, do you?”

Melody shrugged. “I’ve been in a few scenes with that kind of play, but it’s never been my focus. The ba-ba goo-goo crap isn’t a turn on, if I wanted to babysit a dude I’d just start dating him full time.” Returning her tub of toys to its home, she added, “We’re never going to get to cover every single kink in the world.”

“No, but we’ve got…not an expert, but at least someone familiar with the interests,” Skip pointed out. “It could be worth exploring.” 

Melody shook her head. “That sounds like we’d have too many cooks. I want this to just be written by us.” 

“Cool.” 

The response felt a little flat, and Melody turned her attention back on Skip. “Do you disagree?”

“Not about it just being us, I think that’s smart,” Skip said, eyes on their notes.

“So…you want to do baby goo-goo stuff?” Melody snorted, amused by the idea.

Skip looked up. “Is that what I said?”

Melody shook her head. “No, but…okay, I’ll just bite. What’s your point?”

“Well–forget the diapers for a minute. Pearce bought a bunch of stuff for Grace that sounds exactly like the stuff you have, just…‘goo-goo’. Is there a difference?” Skip asked. “I’m asking you to tell me here, because I don’t have a clue. If you’re gagged with a pacifier, that seems like it’s the same thing as being gagged with a rubber ball, or a dog bone, or whatever. Either way, my mouth is open and I can’t talk.” 

Nodding a couple times, Melody thought it over. “Okay, I get it. You’re talking about the difference between the physical sensations and the headspace.”

“Maybe. What is the difference?” 

“Well, let’s compare being handcuffed. The experience of having cuffs on you in the back of a police car is going to be way different than being handcuffed by your paramore, because you’ll be thinking about it differently.” Discarding the search of her closet for a moment, she continued, “Really, the headspace is more important than the implements a lot of the time. The point is not that you’re actually restrained, it’s that you feel restrained. And so a different gag might accomplish the same physical result, but it’s going to make you feel differently, because Grace will feel like a baby if you make her suck on a pacifier, but she won’t feel like a baby if it’s a dog toy.” 

Setting aside their phone for a moment, Skip crossed their arms over their chest. “So…hold on. I thought the point was the feeling? You want to feel like you’re tied up.”

“No, no.” Melody shook her head. “You want to feel like you’re helpless. Or…well, there’s lots of ways you might want to feel, but that’s a big one. It’s a power exchange, not just a chance to feel what it’s like to have rope on your skin.”

Skip looked past Melody at the closet for a moment. “I guess I just don’t get it.”

“I can show you,” Melody confirmed. “That’s why we’re doing examples, right? Rope, cuffs, and we can add headspace stuff to the list.” 

“How would you demonstrate a mental state?” Skip asked skeptically, tilting their head. 

Melody didn’t need to think about an answer. “I actually have something for that, but I’ll need to prep a couple things. Want to plan for a little scene once you get back from work?”

“Sure,” Skip said, shrugging. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s simple,” Melody said, smiling as she considered the options. “I just need one thing from you.”

...

I swear there's going to be AB/DL content sooner or later - it's a slow burn on this one!

-Penn

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