Lacuna

by Kanagen

Summary:

Elena lives in the Compact. She doesn't have to work, she has a compiler that'll spit out whatever fetish gear she fancies, and she's happily independent. Everything's going great — except her love life. She's bounced from relationship to relationship, and none seem to stick. No one's fault, things simply don't work out, and so she spends many a night alone, at home, wrapped up in latex and watching the lewdest streamer she can find.

Until she meets Ophrys Boquila, Third Bloom, at a game night hosted by a mutual friend. The fashionable affini, perhaps unusually, seems happy to merely date Elena, but Elena wonders if that can work. Affini are Affini, after all, and the urge to domesticate seem to be so deeply ingrained as to be unshakeable. What does it mean to let yourself fall in love with an affini like you would anyone else — and what will become of Elena if she does?

This story is a companion novel to Sui Generis and begins roughly around Chapter 13 of that story; you should read Sui Generis first if you haven't already!

Chapter 1

There is a magic in latex, something powerful and fascinating hidden in that impossibly thin, glossy membrane. The tactile sensation. The snap. The sound, God, the sound of the stuff as I ran my hand along the thigh-high stocking to smooth it out after pulling it up my leg. Bliss. Heaven in a shiny sheet of rubber.

The second thigh-high followed the first. I’d owned a few bits of latex before the Affini came, so I had experience, but the Affini stuff was leagues better. I didn’t have to lubricate it — it went on slick, then clung so that nothing but determined fingers would pull it down. It stayed where you put it and it even breathed. The stuff probably wasn’t really even latex, chemically speaking, but it felt and behaved like latex in every way that mattered, and it all came out of the compiler free of charge and tailored perfectly to my body.

Slick, inky-black thighs and calves and feet. A hip-hugging midriff-baring pair of molecule-thin shorts that left very little to the imagination. A halter-top of like make, which my nipples were only just not visible though. I was going to add a pair of full-length opera gloves, and a pair of very nice chonky heels, but that would come later. The new gloves didn’t affect my manual dexterity as much as my old pair, but it was still easier to fix my hair and do my makeup with my bare hands.

The woman in the mirror looked more confident than I felt. She was pushing 40 but still youthful, especially with the skin treatments the Affini brought with them. Brown hair brushed back into place, dark eyes highlighted with subtle eyeliner and shadow. She had a pretty smile. I had a pretty smile.

This is just for game night, I told myself. I’m being silly. But at the same time, I wanted to look pretty. Rebel always went all-out, and Clara had been showing up fully high-femme ever since she volunteered for domestication. And it was a special occasion, after all — the first game night at Tam’s new apartment. It was a good excuse to get fancy, and I wanted to feel fancy. I didn’t do it often enough.

Funny, that. I had all the time in the world now, no job, no work, so many wonderful places to spend time, meet people — and yet somehow it never clicked. Maybe it was the way the florets, who had affini handling their dress and makeup, always stole the show by comparison. Or maybe it was just my nerves. I wasn’t domestication bait by any means, but the old anxiety still eared its ugly head from time to time. But then, two years wasn’t that long. Old habits die hard, right?

I shook my head, and damn if the way my hair framed my face after wasn’t hot as fuck. So what if my last couple goes at relationships hadn’t worked out? There was always tomorrow. Tonight was just for fun. I pulled on the gloves, draped the necklace around my neck, and set out.

I couldn’t help but smile at the fact that I didn’t even think about locking the door until I was in the elevator down to ground level. The cooling architecture made the walk to the transit station very tolerable for an afternoon in July, and the train itself was as comfortable as my apartment. I held onto a bar and watched an affini, streaming with long iridescent leaves, flirt with a terran she’d wheedled a request to help him onto the seat out of. They looked like they might be riding for a while. I wouldn’t be. Tam didn’t live that far away from me, now that she’d moved into Affini housing as well. I hopped off the train at the next stop down, and found my way to the building Tam had sent me the address for.

The path outside the station was, aesthetically speaking, pretty similar to the one outside my own — broad footpaths, lots of greenery and flowers, places to sit, and so on. The courtyard of Tam’s building was much the same, too, practically a small park in and of itself. There was just one major difference: unlike my apartment and the surroundings, this place was built exclusively for Affini scale. There wasn’t even a question of mixed-use. Even the door to the building’s lobby towered over me, the push handle well out of reach.

Now, I’m sure I could have just asked the building’s AI to open it for me. As it happens, I never got the chance. “Hello there, little flower,” a voice purred from behind me. I turned to look up at one of the most humanlike affini I’ve ever seen. Her “skin,” fine vines, was woven so tightly it seemed like an unbroken surface, perfectly sculpted into human proportions. Long vines and leaves like thick hair rolled over her shoulders. She had sprays of pointy flowers woven into them like ornaments, and she wore an extremely fashionable-looking indigo dress that perfectly hugged her figure. She stood on two polished wooden heels — she’d even bothered to make toes. And toenails, of lacquered wood. “Might I lend a hand?” She smiled with her big, pretty lips.

“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” I told her, smiling back. I’d long since learned that the best thing to do was to just let Affini have their fun. She pushed the door open almost effortlessly, and waved me through. I could smell her bright, floral perfume as I passed.

“It’s my pleasure, my well-dressed little flower,” the affini said. “Here to visit someone?”

“Yeah, a friend of mine moved in here, so it’s sort of a housewarming thing. Oh, would you mind working the elevator?”

“Not at all!” She — and, okay, yes, I was making an assumption here, but this affini radiated femininity — keyed the door open, and when we entered, she lifted a hand to the panel and hesitated. “What floor, little one?”

“Oh, 17, please.”

“What a coincidence!” She tapped that button, and only that button. “I’m going to 17 as well!”

That came as a surprise, and I didn’t bother to hide it. “You’re not here for Tam, are you?”

“Just so! I work with her at the Office of Transitional Decarceralization. You must be one of her sweet little terran friends! Ah, forgive my rudeness: I’m Ophrys Boquila, Third Bloom, she/her.” She struck a pose as she said it, one hand on her wide hips, the other held out to me. She looked like a model, or a pin-up, larger than life in a way that had nothing to do with her height.

Well, why not? “Elena Madarona-Castell, also she/her,” I said as I reached up to take her hand.

“Aaaah, the paralegal with a fascination for latex, I should have know the moment I saw you.” I got the distinct impression, as I looked up at her, that she had.

“Ah, Tam’s uh, told you about me?” I could feel my cheeks warming. Thanks, Tam.

“Glowingly, my dear, glowingly. I know for a fact that Tam simply adores you. Now–” The elevator slid to a stop and the door slid open, revealing a plaza that seemed to be outdoors. All around it were hab fronts, with foliage seamlessly hiding the walls and perfecting the illusion of the outdoors. “–shall we go and say hello?”

She still had a firm but gentle grip on my hand. “Yeah,” I said, “lets.” Ophrys led me across the courtyard. It might have been indoors, but I swear I felt a breeze. When we reached Tam’s door, she said something to it in Affini. I’d never picked up more than a few words in it, but I assume it was something along the lines of “let Tam know I’m here.” The door opened shortly thereafter, and I looked up at Tam. I usually had to look up at her — she’s a martian, two meters and then some, and an absolute wall of muscle even before she started getting all the plant stuff grafted onto her for the human-to-affini transition. But this time– “Let me guess,” I said, grinning, “new haircut?”

She laughed. Between the last time I’d seen her and now, she’d somehow gained half a meter or more. “I got a new phytograme grafted in earlier today. Good to see you too. And I see you and Ophrys have met.”

“Yes, we bumped into each other downstairs,” Ophrys said. “You never once told me that Elena was this adorable, Tam. I’m starting to think you’re hoarding all the most precious specimens to yourself.”

“Well, not all of them,” Tam said, winking. “I let Tecta have Clara, didn’t I?”

“Ah, true, true,” Ophrys said. “Well, I’m afraid you can look forward to a Declaration of Intent to Lavish Affection on a Xenosophont in Another Affini’s Social Orbit, because just look at her.” She twirled a lock of my hair around her finger, which at least didn’t mess it up as much as the usual headpat would.

“I think I can verify, notarize, and file that,” Tam said. “Come in, come in! Elena, I love your outfit. All new?”

“Mostly, yeah.” Ophrys finally let go of my hand as Judy bounded up and glommed onto her leg, tail wagging happily. “I found some really nice ones in the compiler catalog, and felt like trying them out.”

“Well, they’re very flattering,” Tam said, giving me an appreciative up and down glance. She wasn’t my boss anymore, which meant I was fair game for her usual level of flirtatiousness, on par with the Affini standard. I think the only reason I adapted so well to the Affini was because I’d known one for years before they showed up. “You still putting yourself out there?”

“Eh. Taking a break,” I said. The whole thing with Petra was something I wasn’t eager to dive back into. “I’ll get back to it when it feels right.”

“Well, you let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Tam said, one of her vines draping itself across my shoulders. Just in case it was ever in question that she was, in fact, an affini.

“I appreciate it. And hey, you,” I added, joining Ophrys in giving Judy affection.

“Mmmmhi!” Judy barked, leaning into the scritches I was giving her behind one big fluffy white ear. I won’t lie — Tam and Judy’s relationship gave me weird feelings early on. Keeping another person as a pet was exactly the kind of thing my parents warned me about when they were filling my head with weird religious scaremongering about Certain Parts of the City. But I’d gotten used to it, and it gave me a leg up when the Affini got here and made it not just normal but the law of the land.

It didn’t hurt that I thought it was just really hot. It wasn’t the pet thing, but the way Judy ran around in almost nothing at all. I was jealous of that — enough that Tam noticed and pushed me into starting my old collection and even wearing it places. I owed Tam a lot — she’d helped me in so many ways over the years. It was little surprise she turned out to have been an affini stuck in a martian body the whole time.

“Ever precious, as always,” Ophrys said of the puppygirl squirming against her. “Will she be joining us for games?”

“She’ll probably come demand affection now and again, but we’re going to have so many florets here tonight I think they might just amuse themselves. I know Judy’s excited to show off her Judyden, aren’t you, pup?” She reached down and ruffled Judy’s hair.

“Awoo! Wuf!”

“That’s Judypup for ‘yes,’” she translated, smiling down at her pet. “So! You two got here first! Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, fortified water? Come and sit! I think tonight’s going to be great!”

Chapter 2

Notes:

Content warning for a bit of parasocial voyeurism/exhibitionism (you'll see), latex play, and lack of control over stimulation.

The courtyard outside Tam’s apartment had switched over to night mode, and it caught me totally unaware. I’d never really seen the stars — the light pollution was always too bad — and I couldn’t help but stare up at the brilliant, ghostly smear of the Milky Way. I took a hit from my vape pen and held the breath until I could feel my mouth wanting to twist into a smile, then let it out in a pinkish cloud that tasted like fizzy strawberries.

“Enjoying the evening?” I glanced up to find Ophrys hovering behind me. I don’t know how she snuck up on me like that. “And…” She sniffed the air. “A stimulant?”

“Just a little synter,” I said. “I’d offer you a hit, but, y’know.”

“Mmm, synterpsicane, I thought that might be it. And yes, that’d do very little for me. Though, if you’re going to take another hit, I’d be happy to shotgun it for you~”

I laughed, and it wasn’t just the synter. “You really don’t have an off button, do you?”

“Certainly not in the face of such an adorable little xenosophont,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m not overwhelming you, am I? You said earlier that you’re a ‘dinner & and a movie’ sort of girl.”

“I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting you to pull me into your lap like that.” And to be fair, it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy the attention — I just knew what came of it if you didn’t assert your boundaries, and I didn’t want to just swan dive into florethood.

Ophrys nodded. “What sort of dinner?”

I blinked. “What?”

“What sort of dinner would you like? Before we go see a movie. For that matter, what sort of movie?”

Still half-smiling from the synter, I just stared up at Ophrys. Eventually, I managed to blurt out, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yes.” Her smile grew wider, and her lavender eyes seemed to glow a little brighter.

“I… I didn’t think affini did dates.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Well, y’know, when you see someone you like, you tend to just kinda…”

“Domesticate them?” I nodded. “Well, some affini are impatient, and they don’t want to wait to start properly caring for their little cutie, it’s true. And that’s all well and good, but I like to feel things out. Play a little. Art can be spontaneous but it should never be rushed.”

“Art?”

“Art. What is domestication but art? We create beauty in manifold ways, with life itself the canvas. Everything else, everything we do, every action we take, every office of the Bureaucracy we establish, every touch on a xenosophont–” One of her vines slipped around my waist “–is an expression of that essential beauty at the heart of it all. I often hear other affini say things like, ‘Why do something and not take the time to make it beautiful,’ but I believe they are overcomplicating matters. The beauty is the point.”

While she was talking, the synter began to fade, but something else rolled over me, replacing the gentle mood lift and euphoria with a powerful sense of warmth and safety. I’d felt affini ramp up like this before, their presence redoubling and amplifying itself, but this was something else. The vine around my waist seemed to get thicker, weightier. I felt like it was pulling me closer to her. And in the moment, I didn’t mind.

“Oh.” That was about what I had in me. Oh.

Ophrys chuckled. “Forgive me, Elena, I have strong feelings when it comes to aesthetics, to art, and I have a habit of letting that all gush out of me without moderation. So: what sort of dinner?”

“I–” I blinked, and took a deep breath. “I honestly don’t know. Anything, really, I’m not picky.”

“Ah, so you do appreciate the spontaneous,” Ophrys said, winking. “Very well. I shall surprise you. And as to your cinematic preferences?”

My brain finally caught up with the conversation. “Hold– hold on,” I said, lifting a hand, “I never said yes.”

“Were you planning to say no?”

“I’ve just never dated an affini before,” I told her. “I’m…look, no offense, it’s just– I’m not sure what I’m looking for in a partner, but I’m pretty sure it’s not ‘an owner.’”

“I’m asking you out to dinner, not if you want my collar,” she said without an ounce of annoyance in her voice.

“And I’m saying I don’t know. Is that okay? Can I think about this before I give you a yes or no?”

Another vine curled around my shoulders, tracing the rim of one of my full-length gloves. “Of course you may, little one. Did I not say I liked to take my time?”

“Al–alright,” I said, feeling a sense of relief. I was fairly certain many affini would have expected an immediate answer. “Thank you.”

“Elena, the very last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable.” She began curling a lock of my hair around a finger again. “Unless, of course, it’s the kind of discomfort you enjoy~”

“I– I– I’m not Clara, I’m not a masochist,” I stammered out. “I just…like latex. It’s hot.”

“It certainly suits you,” Ophrys purred. “An excellent aesthetic choice. The way you catch the light–” A clicking, almost chittering noise emerged from her, like two blocks of wood repeatedly striking. “You are beautiful, Elena. And from the way you carry yourself, I worry that you are unaware of it.”

“…thank you.” God, my cheeks were warm. No one ever talked to me the way Ophrys did. Not even my ex-husband, who, despite his many shortcomings, was my previous high-water mark for romance when times were good — it’s just the good times weren’t that common. Of course, that also put my hackles up, but that wasn’t Ophrys’ fault. I didn’t really think she was like Rodney.

“Let me give you my contact information,” Ophrys said, drawing an embossed floral-print card from seemingly nowhere and handing it over. It was beautiful, perfumed with the faintest scent of rose, absolutely immaculate. “You can contact me whenever you feel ready to do so.”

“Huh… fashionisperennial?” I chuckled. It was a cute screen-name.

“My colleagues find it a bit on the nose, but I like it.”

“Well, that’s what matters,” I said. “And, uhm, either way, I’ll let you know, alright?”

“In your own time, Elena. Regardless of your answer, I look forward to more of you in my life, even if only as a friend.”

I don’t know why, but I believed her.

I won’t lie, I thought I was a goner for a few minutes. I’m not a feralist, things are better with the Affini around, but I’ve heard stories, you know? An affini takes a liking to someone who’s perfectly happy with independence, and one week later they’re getting their implant done. But Ophrys let me go. I don’t even think her card had xenodrugs in it. I rode the train home, took the elevator up, and collapsed on my bed, tired but also far too keyed up to even think about sleeping.

An affini wanted to date me. What the hell did that even mean? How do you even react to that? Ugh. “Hab, turn on the screen, please,” I said, gesturing at the ceiling. Above me, the screen suspended above my bed lit up. With another few gestures and a little fingerspelling, I found one of my favorite late-night streamers, shiny_ara, in the middle of her prep routine. God, I loved watching women pull latex onto their bodies. I swiped the chat open and began fingerspelling.

> eliminature› how do you like the new lube ara?

> SlayerK› Hey, has anyone here read this Freedom’s Ember book?

> roadlobster› WHATS GOOD EVERYONE WHO’S READY TO CRANK IT

> slipsqueaks› hey ara, just got back from a party, didn’t know you were going live tonight!

“Oh, hey Squeaks!” Ara said, waving down at me. “Glad you showed up, I’ve got some new designs I think you’ll really like!” Her glossy, olive skin kept vanishing under jet black latex — she might not have needed the lube, but Ara liked the feel and the ritual of it, and I had to admit she looked incredible even if I knew what a pain in the ass it could all be. God, I wished I could be her. My eye darted over to the viewer count, already over 500 and rising quickly. Five-hundred people watching me… Fuck, Ara’s corset, the boots, the– oh fuck was that an integrated vibrator?!

“Hab, has Ara uploaded her new design?”

“She has, in classic and self-lubing varieties.”

“…give me the self-lube.”

Five minutes later, I’d peeled off the old latex, pulled on the new latex, and was back in bed staring up at the screen and taking a hit of synter as I watched Ara finish her prep routine. “Alright, perverts, you know the drill,” she said, grinning. “Do your worst.” Immediately, she bit her lip, arching her back and letting out a moan as the chat exploded with control codes.

God, I wish that was me. “Hab, network me to the control feed,” I said, taking a hit of synter as the vibrators mounted over my clit and nipples began to kick and buck. “Ohhh fuck,” I whimpered, immediately trying to add to the sensation manually, but Ara did her work too well — the padding over each was more than enough to dampen anything my fingers did. I was as at the chat’s mercy as Ara was. I watched her squirm and shiver, and I squirmed and shivered with her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Her lights reflected off her suit, bright and stark, and I let myself imagine I was her, beautiful, sexy, gift-wrapped for everyone who was watching me. I covered my face with my hands, peeking through my glossy black fingers — oh God the scent of latex in my face — at Ara far above me. I told myself it was a mirror, and I tried to match the way she was lying there as her chat tortured her, tortured me. God, I wish that was me.

GOD, I wish that was me…

I came with tears rolling down my cheeks, well before Ara finished. The control signals coming in continued, but the spell was broken. “Hab, disconnect me please,” I gasped out as I came down from the orgasmic high. Fuck, I hated when this happened — fly high and burn your wings. I’m not ugly, but even with the topical class-Gs pushing back the wrinkles I was never going to be pretty, let alone beautiful.

Which, of course, just made me think of Ophrys. She had called me beautiful. I might not have agreed, but there was something really lovely about hearing it. I rubbed my hands across the suit, listening to the magical sounds it made. Now that was beautiful. Thank God for the Affini — I could just wear latex whenever I wanted now. Maybe the latex was all that held Oprhys’ interest, I thought as Ara finally came with a loud scream.

But somehow, I didn’t think that was the case.

Chapter 3

The floret behind the bar, spaced out as she clearly was, was nevertheless a virtuosa with latte art. She’d produced a perfect portrait of me, smiling and happy, in the thin layer of foam drifting on the surface of my coffee. I almost felt bad drinking it — instead, I preserved the art with a photo and tagged the cafe on my feed. Then I drank it.

The idea of enjoying any kind of coffee but iced out-of-doors in July still felt bizarre to me. The day was hot, but significantly cooler than July would have been even two years ago. Between the soletta diffusing the sun’s light gently and the atmospheric seeding programs restarting long-dead oceanic currents, average temperatures were steadily dropping. Add to that the miracle of breathable latex and the enormous cooling-tree in the shared courtyard, I almost felt chilly without the coffee. I have no earthly idea how the tree worked, but it absolutely did.

I was a little early, but Tam arrived right on schedule, giving me a gentle touch on the shoulder with a vine before gratefully accepting an absolutely massive mug of tea from a barista. “I ordered before I got here,” she explained as she settled comfortably into the Affini-sized seat across from me. “Practicing the vine-writing without looking trick, and I think I got everything right.” She let a vine dangle in her tea and let out an appreciative murmur. “Yep. Perfect.”

“That endoframe really suits you,” I told her. “Honestly, it doesn’t even feel weird for you to be that tall anymore.” I could tell she got a hit of euphoria from that from the way her vines rippled. I might not have a lot of experience with other affini, but I could read Tam just fine. “Everything feeling like it fits?”

“Mmmhmm.” She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh. “Honestly, once I got even a little used to it being there, it just started feeling…natural, I guess, is the best way to say it.”

“Well, I’m glad,” I told her, and I was. I still couldn’t quite forget the look on Tam’s face, half-sick and half-terrified, that night she’d realized why she always felt out of place in her body. “Frankly, it was pretty obvious you needed something like this. You always were weirdly Affini-like, even before the actual Affini were even around.”

“What, because I’m big and toppy and keep my wife as a pet?” She grinned and winked and reminded me just how head-over-heels I’d been for the woman when we first met, my first time at the Grinder. I’d been nervous, downright terrified, until the huge butch with the girl on a leash led me to a booth and bought me a drink. The rest, as they way, was history. I’d been in her orbit ever since and I’d never once had cause to regret it.

“Among other things. How’s work?” I took a sip of my latte — I knew she could fill the air for hours on that subject if I let her.

“It’s going well! The initial rush is long since over, of course, most of the obvious cases for domestication have been settled with their new owners and they’re doing well. Most of what I do is schedule wellness checks on a regular basis for formerly incarcerated independents to make sure they’re still doing alright. And most are, but every so often we find one who needs a little help, whether that’s therapy, a skill acquisition wardship, or even domestication.” All while she was talking, I could see her vine slowly draining her tea, bit by bit. “But you know, the funniest thing happened the other day. Do you remember Warren Argall?”

The name was familiar. “He was, uh, one of your money clients, wasn’t he?”

Tam nodded. “He owned a surface-to-orbit shipping firm, was worth about fifteen trillion, I seem to recall. He had me try to hide his wealth before the Compact got here, as if that ever had a chance of even slowing down Transitional Neoxenoveterinary Archeobureaucracy,” she added with a laugh. “Anyway, I got a memo yesterday from Xenosophont Wellness about him. Get this: he’s been placed in a wardship, and his first impulse was to demand a lawyer!”

I snorted. “That is pretty funny. I take it you told him to get lost?”

“No, actually, I flew out to see him. He’s in Reykjavik, so it was just a suborbital hop. He’s scared, he just needs a vine to hold, and he did ask for me specifically, so I’m heading back out there later today to help him with his preliminary wardship review.”

I paused with the latte halfway to my lips, staring over the rim of the mug at Tam. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Like I said, he needs me, and he was a client–”

“God, you really are an affini,” I said, laughing and setting the mug down. “This entitled jerk calls and you come running because poor little trillionaire.”

“He isn’t a trillionaire anymore,” Tam pointed out. “He’s just having trouble accepting that. It’s not that different than what I’m doing at Transitional Decarceralization. He has pre-existing trauma he’s unable to let go of — his is simply a self-reinforcing obsession with material things and social power instead of trauma from above and deprivation.”

I shook my head. “Affini,” I repeated, finally taking that sip of coffee. “And you’re probably right, even if it’s hard to forget that people like him were the reason everything was so bad before.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Tam said. “Past is context, not destiny. We have to tell terrans that a lot.”

Terrans. I wasn’t sure if that was just Tam reinforcing her identity to herself or whether she’d really internalized it that much. “You know, on that note,” I said, “I did have something I wanted to ask you.”

“Anything.” She looked positively serene. Her tea was half gone.

“Tell me about Ophrys, your co-worker.” It was hard to get the words out, each feeling as though they weighed a solid kilo each. I still didn’t know how to feel about her proposition, or about her for that matter.

A smile slowly spread across Tam’s face. “Is this about her asking you out on a date?”

I felt my cheeks grow warm in a way that had nothing to do with the coffee. “Sh–she told you?”

“She did, but I had a feeling she would anyway after you said you were an old-fashioned girl who expected dinner and a movie before the clothes come off.”

I groaned out loud. “What did she say?”

“Not much. Just that she’d done it and was waiting to hear back from you. She also may have picked my brain a bit about what kinds of things you like.”

“I haven’t even said yes yet!”

“Well, she’s excited,” Tam said with a laugh. “Relax. Ophrys can be a bit dramatic, and she absolutely cannot stop herself from flirting, but if I know anything about her it’s that she’s extremely methodical. Roots, you should see her paperwork, it’s absolutely immaculate. Like calligraphy. I’m so frosting jealous of her penmanship!”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “That is so you.”

“You hush,” Tam said, a few of her vines reaching across the table to coil around one of my wrists. “Anyway — so Ophrys wants to date you. I don’t see where the apprehension comes in. You’re not afraid of being domesticated?”

“I– not afraid,” I said, looking down at Tam’s vine around my wrist. “I’m not some die-hard feralist or something. I just don’t think domestication is what I want. I don’t have a problem with florets or drugs, you know that, right?” When Tam nodded, I added, “I think it’s more– giving up all my rights and agency just reminds me of what it was like with Rodney.”

“Oh, Elena.” Her vines crawled further up my arm and tightened gently. “I hadn’t considered that, I’ll admit. But you know that Ophrys isn’t like Rodney, right?”

“No, I know,” I said, taking Tam’s vine in my hand. The pressure, steady and gentle, was a comfort. “I can’t even imagine an affini acting like he did. But it’s less about what he did and more about the closing off, the lack of a way out. Like…emotional claustrophobia, you know?”

“I understand,” Tam said. “Better than most affini would, I think. But let me reassure you that if Ophrys says she wants to date you, that’s just what she means. As to whether she hopes to domesticate you, I can’t say. You know what I’d suggest?”

“What?”

“Ask her. Ask her what she wants out of the relationship. Not every affini who dates an independent is looking for a floret, you know. In fact, I dare say most aren’t. Talk to her, ask her. What’s the worst that could happen? You find out that she is interested in you as a potential floret?”

“That’s less than idea, yeah,” I muttered. “I guess I just worry she might not take no for an answer. I’m not saying she’s like that,” I added quickly, “just that, y’know, you hear stories…”

“A lot of that is just feralist fearmongering, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it’s up there anyway,” I said, gesturing at my temple. “I don’t know. Would you–” I hesitated, looking up into Tam’s eyes. “If that is the case, would you have my back?”

“Of course,” Tam said, reaching out with both hands to take mine. “Of course! You’re my friend, Elena, and I will always, always help you. You have my word on that. Does that help?”

I nodded. “Thank you, Tam. It means a lot.”

We talked for a little while after that, and the mood lightened considerably once we were off the subject of Ophrys. Tam was the one who left first — she had a suborbital flight to Reykjavik to catch. That left me with coffee still warm in a mug cool to the touch — more Affini magic. I took a sip and watched the traffic around me, not cars like it used to be but people. I watched a trio, probably independents, definitely a polycule, playing some kind of location-aware game, wandering back and forth across the plaza hand-in-hand. I saw a big, quadrupedal affini, something like an enormous six-legged cat, being ridden by a laughing floret. People came and went, independents, florets, and affini alike, and all of them with smiles on their faces.

It might not have entirely banished my fears. I don’t know what could. But it did put them into perspective. I finished my coffee and pulled my minitablet out, pulling up the messenger and looking up fashionisperrenial. I found her quickly.

slipsqueaks› hey, it’s Elena

fashionisperennial› Hello there, cutie! I’m so glad you reached out, I was just thinking about you!

slipsqueaks› were you?

fashionisperennial› Well, if I’m right, I’ve got a date to plan!

slipsqueaks› confident, aren’t you? :p

fashionisperennial› Habitually! How does Moroccan sound?”

slipsqueaks› Tam told you I like Moroccan food, didn’t she?

fashionisperennial› Naturally! She’s oh so helpful like that. So, we’re on?

slipsqueaks› I think so, yes. One date, ok? no strings attached? Just to feel this out and talk about it

fashionisperennial› My dear, I’m so very happy you’re approaching this in so levelheaded a state of mind! Will three days be enough time for you to prepare?

slipsqueaks› uhh, yeah, should be

fashionisperennial› Fantastic! I’ll be counting the hours. See you then!

I took my last sip of coffee, and set down the minitablet. Just one date, I told myself. That’s all I’d committed to. It wasn’t a rushed I-do pushed on me by my family. It wasn’t a prelude to years of controlling abuse. It wasn’t a threat; it was just a date. No more, no less.

Hell, maybe I’d even have a good time.

Chapter 4

Notes:

CW for a frank, if brief, discussion of an abusive relationship, including cult dynamics.

I thought I’d gone all-out with my full coverage latex ensemble, glossy squeaky glorious rubber that might even have qualified for street-legal under the Accord, but when I saw Ophrys waiting outside the transit hub, I almost forgot how to breathe. She’d been fancy just for Tam’s board game night, but she’d achieved something tonight that belonged on a fashion runway. She was wearing a body-hugging off-the-shoulder dress, a deep indigo in color, flecked with other shades of blue in a dazzling dapple. Around it was wrapped a diaphanous pink accent sash, anchored to the field of tiny flowers that swept asymmetrically down from one shoulder to its matching breast. She’d grafted even more bird-of-paradise flowers to herself, all elegantly woven into her immaculately shaped skin. The vines and leaves of her “hair” were bound in a tight updo, and God, I was gay.

“Elena!” she called out, her voice cutting through the fog of lesbianism. “Right on time!”

“H-hi, Ophrys,” I mumbled, waving awkwardly. ‘You look… wow.” Not for the first time, I wished I had Tam’s confidence.

“And you look positively delicious,” Ophrys said gracefully. She had to know as well as I did that she’d outdone me. “Is this original?”

“Uh, n-no, it’s compiled. But not from my home compiler!” I added hastily. I didn’t want her to think I hadn’t even tried. “There’s um, this place downtown, Mika’s, where they’ve got a fetish fashion boutique, and they’ve got a full-scale wardrobe compiler for trying things on, so I uh… I went and got this compiled directly onto my body.” I tried not to think about how much the big rig atomically printing the latex directly onto me had turned me on. Was still turning me on. “That’s why, uh, that’s why there’s no seam. I’m literally going to have to cut myself out of this tonight.”

I’d been worried that Ophrys would be disappointed, and now I’d swung around to worrying that she’d think I was fucked up and sick. I should have known better — sometimes, I swear, it’s like the more utterly depraved something is, the more the Affini will like it. Ophrys’ eyes lit up with streaks of brilliant gold that perfectly accented her indigo dress, and I could feel the excited energy, the sheer approval, coming off of her in waves.

“That. Is. Magnificent!” She leaned in close, taking my hands in hers, and I was far too stunned to object, much less fight it. “Ah, ephemerality! What a statement it makes! Every tool has its use, and my dear, that is how you use a compiler!”

“Y-you like it?”

“I love it,” she rumbled. I felt her words as much as I heard them. I could smell her floral bouquet now, the natural earthy-bright combination I remembered from game night overlaid with the living flowers of her dress, the sweet scent of the slick birds-of-paradise. “What a marvelous gift, this experience — subtle to start, but that only feeds the revelation. Oh, I knew we were operating on the same wavelength!”

“Well, uhm… I’m glad?” And I was, even if I’d blundered into it entirely by accident. “So, where are we going? Kiki’s? Magic Merguez?” I’d been to every Moroccan joint in V-V, and while I had my suspicions about which one Ophrys would pick for a date, I was not expecting what came out of her mouth.

“No, I thought we might go a bit further afield. I did a little research, and there’s a hotel in the Casablanca Dome that apparently comes highly recommended. They cater to late night sorts given the midday heat, which makes them perfect for a drop-in from this side of the globe!”

“Casablanca.” Ophrys nodded. “In Morocco.” She nodded again. “I… you want to go all the way to Morocco to get Moroccan food?”

She let go with one of her hands, covering her mouth with it as she laughed. “Oh Elena, my little treasure, are you still laboring under the illusion of scarcity? It’s only a suborbital hop away, and we can be sitting down to our table in just over an hour. Gives us plenty of time to chat, to connect, to feel one another out — which, as I understand, is just what you want to do.”

“Actual Morocco?” I was still trying to wrap my head around it.

She laughed again. “Also, I confess, I’ve been looking for an excuse ever since I started researching early Terran cinema.” That was the beginning of a conversation that lasted well past the suborbital shuttle’s launch, a sensation I’d never experienced before — but then, I’d never had cause to leave the V-V region, either, and now I was on my way to fucking Casablanca. Film, it turned out, was only the latest of Ophrys’ artistic obsessions. She’d been all over Terra, from the Met in New York to the Louvre in Paris, just to see Terran creativity on display. “There is such a marvelous, haunting depth to the way you saw yourselves, how you wished to see yourselves,” she said, her arm holding me against her, one finger dipped into a class of something she called “durataxin.”

“I mean, that’s art,” I replied. A lot of my replies had been something along those lines. I didn’t know a lot about art, but I wanted to at least try to participate. The champagne was helping, too. “If you want stark reality, that’s what a photograph is for.”

“Ah, but a photograph must be framed, focused, composed — there’s artistry there, too, the art of capturing a singular view of a singular moment in time.”

“Well, that’s true,” I admitted. “I’ve never really given a lot of thought to that. To art in general, if I’m being honest.”

“Ah, well, not to worry, flower, we’ll fix that.”

I glanced out the window, the curvature of the planet just visible in the darkness. “I mean, that does sound nice, but we should probably talk about, y’know, what we want from this before we go making long-term plans.”

Ophrys gave me a look, lifting one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “Do you feel as though we’re incompatible?”

“I didn’t say that.” I took another sip of champagne. If we were going here I was going to need it. “And no, I don’t think we’re incompatible. It’s just there’s kind of an elephant in the room.”

“There is?” Ophrys looks up and around, and I’ll admit, I laughed. She just looked so earnest.

“Look, I just– how much has Tam told you about me?”

“Precious little. I enjoy the mystery.” She winked. “Just enough to put together a lovely evening for the two of us.”

“Okay, well–” I took a deep breath. The relationship-killing iceberg was coming out early this time. Maybe for the best. “My first marriage was… not great. I don’t suppose you’re familiar with Third Reformation Qology?”

“The name is familiar,” Ophrys said, nodding. “A splinter religious group, if I recall. Heavily mediated and reliant upon self-sorting algorithmic social media?”

“I mean, yeah, at one point. The Qpers have been offline long enough they can manage the self-sorting without computers. Anyway, I found out my husband was in this cult after I married him. He was a nasty piece of work. Controlling, even violent, but he somehow managed to keep a lid on it long enough to pressure my family — who weren’t much better — into pressuring me to marry him. At which point I was cut off from anyone outside the cult. No support network, nothing, just a stupid 21 year old in over her head.”

“I’m very sorry you had to endure that,” Ophrys said, a note of genuine concern entering the harmony of her voice.

I shook my head. “It’s in the past. I got out on my own, and Tam helped me divorce him. TRO, the works. No contact since, thank God. But it does make me worry. Before you start,” I added, holding up a hand to forestall the objection I was sure was coming, “I know you’re not like that. I know I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing anymore. But I am still hesitant about anything that might be permanent. And domestication is really, really permanent. I have to know there’s a way out. That this isn’t just you playing the long game to collar me.”

“You think you wouldn’t want my collar?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I would. I just don’t want to not have an option to say so. That it’s for the right reasons? Ugh! I’m not making sense, am I?”

“I actually think I understand,” Ophrys said, giving me a gentle pat on the shoulder with a few fingers, still pinching the glass of durataxin between thumb and forefinger. It was half-empty. “You fear that, in accepting this date, you have irrevocably placed yourself on the path to inevitable domestication.”

“I guess.” I couldn’t help but lean into her. ‘I’m sorry to dump all this right on you first thing. I’m totally screwing up the date, aren’t I?”

“Nonsense,” Ophrys replied. “Your feelings are of central, critical importance. I want you to be comfortable, to enjoy yourself. How am I to ensure that if I’m blundering directly into emotional scars?”

I felt my face warm, and took another ship of champagne to cover it. “You know, that sounds like something Tam would say.”

“That is because Tam is very level-headed and mature for a youngbloom of her age,” Ophrys said with a grin that lit up the shuttle’s cabin. “I had to learn to be this wise and clever!”

That got another chuckle out of me. The shuttle shimmied gently, and for a moment I felt just a little lighter. I clapped my hand on top of my wineglass as I realized we were about to hit microgravity. “Oh, that’s so weird…”

“Let me know if you need an anti-emetic.” Somewhere else in the cabin, someone else, probably a floret, let out a loud “Whee!” to the amusement of almost everyone aboard. ‘You know, this talk — this concern for the future of yours, I mean — it puts me in mind of another of your classic early cinema films I watched just prior to this evening.”

“Oh?” I began to float just a little, but Ophrys kept me firmly in place.

“Like Casablanca, it also takes place in Morocco,” she went on. “The lead actress, Doris Day, sang a song several times in it, the chorus of which went like so.” She straightened, took a deep breath (something I had never seen her do), opened her mouth, and began to sing in a high alto voice — a terran voice.

♫ Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be ♫

I forgot how to think, listening to her. It wasn’t hypnosis, at least, not the way you had to worry about with Affini most of the time. It was simply beautiful. I was still staring up at her, dumbfounded, well after she finished, only dimly aware that her audience in the cabin was applauding her.

“You’ve, uhm– you’ve got a really pretty voice,” I finally managed to say.

“The Terran vocal tract is a fascinating instrument,” Ophrys said, returning to her usual polyharmonic Affini voice. “I simply had to replicate it and experiment. I hope the language wasn’t too antiquated for you to receive the meaning?”

I shook my head again. “I think I got most of it. Shouldn’t it be, ‘lo que sera, sera,’ though?” My Spanish wasn’t great, but I knew a little bit.

“Oh, very probably,” Ophrys said, nodding, “but that wouldn’t fit the meter at all. In any case: what will be, will be. I mean to approach tonight, and whatever comes after, in precisely that spirit. In fact, I will make a further commitment. I will only ever initiate domestication proceedings with you at your request.”

“…you’re serious?” I didn’t think I’d ever heard of an affini that hands-off before.

“You will have to beg me for it,” Ophrys reassured me. “Only then will I relent. Until that day, assuming tonight’s date meets with your approval, I will be entirely content with the title ‘girlfriend.’ Does that assuage your anxieties?”

I let out a relieved sigh. Gravity was slowly coming back, and I let her pull me into her side tighter. “It does, yeah. Thank you.”

“My dear, Elena, you need never thank me for seeing your needs met, but you are most welcome.” She smiled warmly down at me, and for a moment I thought she would lean down and kiss me. She didn’t — she saved that for later, as we danced on the open-air balcony, watching the sky turn pink in the east through the crystal-clear refurbished environment dome. There were no xenodrugs on her lips, just a sweet floral perfume that followed me home, along with one of her bird-of-paradise flowers. I offered to let her cut me out of my outfit, but she demurred. “I’m going to take my time unwrapping this particular gift,” she said, and she meant every word of it.

Chapter 5

I slept better that night than I had for a long while. When the buzz of the date finally faded, I felt pleasantly wrung out, and I gave myself a lazy day in. Ophrys’ flower shone colorfully in the vase I’d compiled for it on my kitchen table. She sent me a brief message around midday, and we talked for a little while. It all felt so bizarrely normal. I’d gone on a date with an affini, and that’s all that it had been. No surprise injections, no weird out-of-nowhere attempts at domestication, just a lovely evening and a casual low-key check-in the day after.

I’m going to be perfectly honest, I’ve been on dates with other terrans that threw more red or even yellow flags than Ophrys did.

The next few days were a pleasant float. I went about my usual routine of going out, checking in with friends, and generally enjoying the post-scarcity world the Affini had built for us. I was mostly just killing time for the weekend — funny, isn’t it, the way weekends are still a kind of ritual we keep around? A time to, more than usual, screw around and party. Maybe some traditions from the age of capital and scarcity aren’t all bad.

That weekend was something special, and I had plans. The Granville Market was playing host to the annual fetish fair, which had outgrown its old digs rapidly after the Compact blew the lid off the Accord’s moralism, and for the first time I was actually going to attend in person. I’d always found an excuse to avoid going with everyone before, but I was finally going to take that plunge this year. With a little help, of course.

I picked out something comfortable — much as I wanted to go to the fetish fair dressed head to toe in latex, that was a bit too exposed for me, and also there was the issue of being on my feet for most of the day and needing to think about long-term comfort. Not even the magic of xenodrugs and Affini materials science could banish the aches I’d get wearing the kind of heels I loved all day long. My friends were always trying to get my to fly my freak flag as high as they did, but I’m not sure I was quite ready for that, even after two years of the Compact.

And speaking of friends, I was due to meet at least one of them. A short walk and a transit ride later and I was loitering just outside the station, an already heavy crowd beginning to swarm the island. It was going to get warm later in the day, but there were numerous cooling trees planted in the open areas and the interior spaces of the centuries-old market were all fully climate controlled. If there was one thing the Affini took seriously on Terra, it was climate safety.

Clara spotted me first. “Elena!” she called, waving, and I made my way over to her. She’d shown up in full-body fishnets with only the barest concession to modesty in the form of a thong and the skimpiest of tops — of course, she was also trussed up, shibari-style, knots in all the sensitive spots. It had to be absolutely maddening, which is why her owner would have dressed her in it. “Good to see you! How was your date with Miss Ophrys? I wanna know all the juicy details!” Her blond hair, fluffy and wavy, bounced with her as she practically vibrated with excitement.

“I’m shocked the Maestro hasn’t already told you everything,” I said, rolling my eyes and hugging her.

“Ooo! Watch the shoulder,” she said, not wincing but squirming. I’d had to get used to Clara showing up sore or even marked up, even before the Affini showed up. Things that I was terrified of were things she chased. Once, she’d shown up to the office with a black eye, and when I asked her if she was okay, she told me she’d just had the best sex of her life the night before.

“Singing all night?”

“Oh, Maestro’s amazing,” Clara said, sighing happily. “Xe knew I had this fair to go to, so Xe stuck to limblocks and pressure points and stars, Elena, I can’t wait for you to understand how good an affini can make you feel.”

“It was just a date,” I told her, laughing and taking her hand. We flowed with the crowd toward the fair. ‘I’m just having some fun, you know? Not looking to join you in floret-town.”

“Awww. Being a floret rules, Elena,” Clara said, pouting. “Joooooin ussss! Judy agrees!”

“Judy’s such a floret she was a floret before florets were a thing.”

“I knooooow, I’ve got so far to go to catch up with her,” Clara replied. “So tell me about Miss Ophrys! She seemed really fun at game night!”

“She’s uh…she’s nice,” I said. “Hey, you want a drink?” I nodded at a vendor cart handing out milk teas just inside the mossy plaza, and not long after I was enjoying a nice barley tea. I told Clara about the date as we slowly wandered toward the Market.

“She seriously took you to Casablanca?! That’s so romantic!”

“It was a lot, yeah,” I said, laughing. “I was a little overwhelmed. But she was an absolute gentlewoman the whole time. She actually promised she wouldn’t domesticate me unless I asked her to.”

Clara raised an eyebrow at that. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. It actually made me feel a lot better about it all. The whole dating an affini thing, I mean. I don’t feel like it’s just a pretext and prelude for an inevitable domestication.”

Clara laughed. “Okay, Goldie.”

“How am I Goldie? You’re the blonde.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll teach you to dance,” she added with a wink. I had no idea what she’d meant by any of that, but then, Clara had been getting steadily weirder ever since she’d volunteered to be her veterinarian’s floret. “I’m happy for you, okay? You deserve to be absolutely spoiled, and no one’s better at spoiling than an affini.”

“I mean, she already flew me halfway across the world for dinner and dancing, I’ve no idea how she’ll top that.”

“She’ll find a way.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “Trust me on that. They start you falling and you’ll never hit bottom.” In any other context that’d sound menacing, but Clara said it with such lightness and joy in her voice that I couldn’t bring myself to think of it that way.

“What’s it like?” The words just tumbled out of me. I’d never asked it of her before — it felt almost insensitive to, for some reason.

“Being a floret?” When I nodded, she let out the most contented sigh I’d ever heard. “It feels like…imagine being tense, like clenching, your whole life. Imagine never really resting. Imagine awful, awful cramps that never go away — and then imagine relaxing. Letting go. Being limp as a wet noodle. It’s like falling asleep after staying up for three days and sleeping soundly for as long as you need, and waking up refreshed the day after. I don’t know, I don’t think I’m making it any clearer, am I?”

“No, I think I get it,” I told her. “I mean, as much as I can." Maybe I hadn’t made such a radical change as Clara, but I’d experienced the relief of escaping from a miserable situation into one comparatively much better. Hell, I’d done it twice. Becoming a floret was just another step beyond that, wasn’t it? “Thank you.”

“Hey, whatever happens, you’ll be happy,” Clara said. “They really do mean it.” She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek, her lips just slightly chilly from her milk tea. “You can always talk to me about it if it’d help. Or any of the florets from Tam’s office, I bet they’d all be happy to talk about it.”

“I mean, that’s if this keeps going,” I said. “She might lose interest, I might lose interest, I might decide this is too much too fast, you know, things relationships run into. It’s not even a relationship, not yet, it’s just a date.”

“If– no, scratch that, when Miss Ophrys asks you out again, are you really gonna say no?”

I found myself having to think about it. “I don’t know.” I’d had a great time. Ophrys had promised. It wasn’t a fast-track to domestication. And even if it was, Clara seemed fine. Better than fine. But there was still something. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Well, let’s say you say yes, and you’re going to have another date. What are you going to wear? That bit with the compiled-on latex? Fffffrost, that’s hot, but let’s up the ante a little, huh? Something custom. Something handmade.” She gestured with her milk tea at the Market we were finally filtering into. “Let’s pick up something really hot to surprise Miss Ophrys with!”

“I– I mean, I don’t know,” I mumbled, and I could feel my cheeks warming. “I mean I bought some pieces online before the Affini came but the compiler let me just make whatever I wanted s-so I’ve never– I mean, not in person, and–”

“So why not start now?” Clara said, grinning. “Come on, I’ll be with you the whole time. Let’s get you something really hot and really special, yeah? You deserve it!”

I bit my lip and looked away, down at my tea. She was right, of course — it was the same thing Tam had always been telling me. I did deserve the things I wanted, and I couldn’t deny that I really liked the idea of owning something bespoke, something handmade. “Okay,” I said, smiling back at her. “If we can find something that really fits, you know?” Her only response was to pull me deeper into the crowd, into the fair.

I didn’t fight it.

Chapter 6

I’d been to fairs before, and I’d been to the Grinder of course, but I’d never been to a fair that catered to the sort of people who went to the Grinder. Sure, the Affini had removed virtually all of the old social judgement and shaming over kink (and routinely indulged it in public, especially for florets), but that didn’t mean every day was a non-stop fetish-fest. Not like this.

“Oh roots,” Clara said, pausing to stare at a suspension bondage demo, a man whimpering around a gag as his dominant attached small weights, one by one, to some very sensitive-looking piercings. “I have got to get Maestro to do that to me.” She held up her minitablet and started recording a video.

“Well, you have fun with that,” I told her, “but masochism really isn’t my thing.” Now, if it was a woman, I could at least enjoy the view, but I wasn’t about to start eroticizing pain.

“Yet,” Clara said, winking at me. “One of these days you’ll agree to a flogging, and then down the rabbit-hole you’ll go.”

“If all of you even before the Affini showed up couldn’t manage it, and even the hyper-libertine world we live in hasn’t done it in two entire years, what makes you think it’s going to happen now?” I’m sure it sounded like an argument to anyone listening in, but this was a game Clara had been playing with me for a long time, almost as long as I’d known her. She might not be a brat or a top but she did love to tease.

“One day, I will get you to unclench,” she said, laughing and taking my arm in hers, leading me deeper in. ‘If you don’t accept that you get to have things you deserve, you’re going to get a wellness check called on you.”

I rolled my eyes at her. ‘I’m not some closet-feral or Accord die-hard. I’m just not into the idea of hurting. I did enough of that before.”

Clara actually stopped short at that, dragging me to a halt beside her. “Wait, is that seriously why? This whole time, I’ve been–”

“You’re fine. It was a long time ago, and it never bothered me or I’d have said something.” Which was true. I wasn’t uninterested in pain because of Rodney, I was uninterested in pain because it didn’t excite me the way other things did. “I mean it. Okay?”

“…” I watched her expression shift as she wrestled with the guilt, and as her implant gently inserted itself into the thought process. It really was amazing to see it happen, watch the tension slacken, watch the smile replace it. “Okay,” she said, after a pause of no more than half a second. “But you will tell me if I say something that bothers you?”

“Have you ever known me not to speak my mind?” I kept my face perfectly composed — there were things I’d left off here and there, after all, but she didn’t need to beat herself up over bygones that weren’t even her fault. Having to live with Rodney had taught me some useful skills at least. “You all taught me too well for that.”

“Well, alright,” she said, tugging me along again. “C’mon, let’s find something fun for you to take home!”

“Wh– no, I don’t need–”

“Need, bah, get something you want,” Clara said. “Get something that spins you up!” She pulled me along, away from the demonstrations, the rope vendors, the leatherworkers, an entire row of vibrators styled after what must have been each and every set of genitals in the galaxy…and down an alley of booths that smelled powerfully of rubber. Clara took a deep breath, and added, “Get something that’s you.”

The smell was intoxicating. I sucked down a breath of air myself, drinking in the sweet, harsh scent of chemical bliss. No xenodrug I’d ever tried tickled my brain the way rubber did. There were times I considered tracking down a hab designer and having them redo my apartment so that every single blessed surface was rubberized. God, that’d be Heaven on Earth. But it really was just too much. It’d be silly.

I licked my lips just short of drooling.

“Go on, go on,” Clara whispered in my ear. “Chase your bliss.” She gave my arm a little squeeze, and my heart may have fluttered just a little bit. I blame the smell. I was rubber-drunk.

“With florets around, who needs the Affini to enable us?” I said, laughing.

“No bust, sheen,” Clara said, laughing with me and giving me a soft hipcheck. “I can steep a thread sap-free, no matcha required.”

“You’re doing it again,” I said with mock-frustration.

“Yeah, I know.” She nibbled on her lip and looked all around. “Oooh, there, there, there! C’mon! Kibby makes great stuff!”

“Kibby?” It wasn’t a name I was familiar with, but then, most of my attention was focused on the artists making compiler patterns rather than the ones doing bespoke pieces. It was just more convenient and didn’t require me to bother the artist directly. Clara pulled me over to a booth that was loaded with accessories, gloves, socks, boots — behind it were display mannequins modeling full-coverage pieces, all absolutely gorgeous with bright highlights painted across their mirror-shiny surfaces.

“Kibby, hi!” Clara leaned over the table just as a woman with short, jet-black hair and big fluffy cat ears that pricked up to attention stood up from under the table. She managed to do it with perfect timing to run right into a kiss from Clara, and both of them giggled. I couldn’t help but find my gaze lingering on the glossy ring around Kibby’s neck.

“Clara, hey! You need some new toys for the Maestro?”

“Do I ever! But first, I want you meet someone I’ve been meaning to introduce you to: this is my friend, Elena!”

“Hi!” Kibby immediately turned the full force of her attention onto me, reaching across the table to hug me. She was wearing no small amount of rubber herself, but her fingers were free, and she grabbed and held on. “So you’re the huge latex freak! It’s so nice to meet you!”

“H-hi,” I mumbled. “N-nice to meet you. Uhm. I don’t know if freak is the word, but–”

It was the word, and Kibby could tell. “Shush! No judgement. I’m a total freak for it, too! Why do you think I make the stuff? I love seeing folks wearing things I’ve made and having fun with it.”

“Kibby’s Mxstress brings her to Maestro for checkups,” Clara explained. “Xe did her ears, too!”

“Mmhmm!” She flicked her ears, first one and then the other. “Mx. Tecta’s wonderful, so of course xer floret is too. And xer floret’s buddy! So, what can Kibby put you in? Or put in you?” she added with a wink.

“W-well, I don’t– it’s just that–” No, I could do better than this. I swallowed, and composed myself. “Sorry, I’m just not used to custom work.”

“Oh, a beauty like you, wearing something out of a compiler? Nononono,” she said, waving a hand as if to brush the very idea away. “Clara, you were so right to bring her here. Come around here, honey, let’s get you used to quality, handmade rubber kink.”

I explained to her, of course, that I’d owned a few pieces of a latex wardrobe prior to the arrival of the Affini, but as far as Kibby was concerned pre-Compact and quality were not words that belonged together. She began pulling out articles of latex clothing and holding them up to my body, hmming and sucking on her lower lip and sorting things into piles one by one. At the time, I had no idea which pile was for what.

I kept myself composed during it all, but inside I was practically climbing the walls. The idea that I’d be taking any of this home left my stomach churning. I was more than happy being able to get whatever I wanted out of the compiler — it was such an improvement over life before, where even with Tam’s incredibly generous paycheck I had to save up just to have enough to wear to the Grinder. That was more than enough for me. But still she kept picking them out.

“Okay, there’s some for starters,” Kibby finally said. “This is more casual stuff,” she added, touching one pile, “and this is stuff that’s a little more formal and fancy,” touching the other.

“Wait, all of that?”

“Mmmhmm! For starters.” She took my by the hands and looked me firmly in the eye. “I can tell you’re a little overwhelmed. That’s okay. What I want you to do is take a deep breath, close your eyes, let it out nice and slow, and then open your eyes again. And then I want you to look around all the display pieces and find the thing, the one thing, that most gives you joy. The thing that electrifies you to think about being seen in. Okay?”

This was so much more than I had ever expected, and I held no illusions about being allowed to turn Kibby down. I did what she told me, closing my eyes and breathing deep, welcoming the rich perfume of all the unpacked latex deep into my lungs. Weirdly enough, it helped. The sound of the crowd fell away, or seemed to, and I felt some of the tension in my shoulders fall away. I still felt the little knot of worry nestled inside me, twisting, tightening, but it was a feeling I could cope with.

So I opened my eyes, and there it was. There were three mannequins, each of them fully dolled up in gorgeous latex. Straps. Boots. Body suits. Corsets. Chastity devices. Masks — oh wow. One of them wore a mask, smooth as glass, that covered the top of its head, its forehead, its eyes, even its nose. Full lips were the mannequin’s only visible facial feature, everything else erased by the unbroken surface of the mask. I have pretty lips was the thought that ran through my head just then. That was always the feature others picked out to compliment. I wanted others to see me in that, to see my lips and nothing else. I wanted it to steal my vision, steal my face, but leave my mouth free to tempt, to be used–

“Ooooh, good choice,” Kibby said, somehow knowing precisely what I was thinking. She stepped forward and unfastened it, peeling it carefully away from the–

It wasn’t a mannequin.

Underneath the mask was the face of a flesh and blood woman, eyes half-lidded, perfectly still. “While I’m here…” Kibby picked up a water bottle with a long, curving straw and brushed the woman’s lips with a finger. Her mouth fell open, Kibby slipped the straw inside, and another brush of her finger sealed those lips again. “Gotta water your models. You’re doing great, Lex. Perfect mannequin.” As she spoke, she gently stroked Lex’s cheek, and she obediently sucked mouthfuls of water from the bottle; a brush against her throat, and she swallowed.

I need you to understand how turned on I was in that moment. Perfectly frozen, put on display, so still I’d thought she was a mannequin. God, I wished that was me. I didn’t know how she managed it, but I’m sure some affini was responsible. It was precisely the sort of magic they’d brought to kink and play. “You have…models as mannequins?” I said, as casually as I could.

“Mmmhmm! Mxstress helped me do the setup, I just have to take care of them every so often. Lemme clean off the mask, and then I’ll pack up everything for you, kay?” I nodded, and she stepped away.

“You’re going to look so fucking hot in that,” Clara said, hugging me from the side. “Amazing choice. Can’t wait to see you in it.”

“You really think so?” I had to squelch my nerves there. I was already having second thoughts, and I still felt like all this was wasted on me — like the mask especially was wasted on me. Sure, I wanted it, but could I really pull it off?

“Elena, sweetie, it’s so you. And now, when you have your second date with Miss Ophrys, you can really knock her socks off! And she might even wear some, if they’re fashionable.”

“I don’t know if we’re even going to have a second date,” I reminded her.

“You’re gonna, sheen,” Clara said, firmly. “Trust me, alright? She definitely likes you. She was all about you at game night.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” That was, to be honest, what I was a little worried about. If she liked me more than I liked her. If she liked me too much to take no for an answer. But my concerns were short circuited by Kibby returning with the now freshly cleaned mask before I could voice them.

“Okay! Lemme pack your stuff up. You know how to take care of latex, right? Cleaning, storage? Okay, great!” As she talked, she folded and sorted each article one by one, piling them into big paper shopping bags. “Thank you so, so much for coming by, it was wonderful to meet you! Send me some shots of you all done up, okay?”

“I will,” I promised, and I meant it. Even if I thought I couldn’t pull it off as well as others would, now I had it I was absolutely going to enjoy it. “And thank you.”

“Oh shush,” Kibby said, “the only thanks I need are happy sophonts looking all tight and shiny.” She gave me a wink and waved as Clara and I moved on.

“You see?” Clara whispered, grinning and hipchecking me again. “That was great, wasn’t it?”

“It was a lot,” I said, “but I don’t regret it.” Maybe someone else could have worn it better, but they were mine to wear now, and I won’t lie, as hard as it was to accept it, it did make me feel special in a way nothing from the compiler, even my favorite patterns, did. Kibby had made these, and they were mine now. It felt a little like when Ophrys had revealed that we were flying to Casablanca.

If I wasn’t careful, I was going to develop a taste for getting spoiled rotten.

Chapter 7

Notes:

Content Expectations: drug use (in my HDG?!), and encounters with an ex who doesn't understand the word "no"

Clara didn’t give me a moment to rest. Classic floret exuberance — it was very sweet but it wore me out fast. I ended up accepting a hit of cyclozoikane from a sweet-looking guy in fishnets handing them out from a tray like hors‘dourves. I held the little cylinder up to my nose and sniffed, and the rush of wakefulness hit me like three cups of coffee but without any of the jittery energy. It’d be out of my system by dinnertime, and it wouldn’t make my gut regret it. Thank God for xenodrugs.

I knew better than to push things, though — even if I felt like I had the stamina of a twenty-year old, my body was not twenty years old, and I’d pay for it the next day if I treated it like it was. More importantly, thanks to Clara I now had two bags full of new things to wear, new toys, and all manner of other goodies weighing me down. “Let’s grab some lunch, and then I think I’m going to head back.”

“Awww, already?” She pouted.

“We don’t all have a floret’s stamina, you know,” I told her, smiling. “Besides, I’ve already got so much.”

“Fine, fine.” She stuck her tongue out at me, and laughed. We sat in the shade of a tree and ate gyros from a food truck parked in the courtyard. “You’re glad you came out, right?”

I nodded. I was. It was a little overwhelming, but I was looking forward to seeing myself in several of the pieces Clara had talked me into, especially Kibby’s mask. “Thank you. Really.”

“Of course!” Clara said. “Look, just because we live in a perfect utopia and I’m a pet now doesn’t mean I don’t consider it my responsibility to help you creep out of that shell of yours.”

“For which I am endlessly grateful, you tremendous pervert.” It was a term of affection for Clara — she’d embraced the label long before the Affini had taken the sting out of the word. “And I promise you’ll get to see me in them. Maybe even fool around a little, if your Owner lets you.”

It was a gentle tease, and she laughed. “You’re not afraid of my floret’s stamina?”

“You always had terrifying stamina, especially when it comes to getting the absolute tar beat out of you.” I was happy she could take pleasure in it, but it was always hard to see. She’d never asked me for that — she knew better, and she was a kind soul beneath her brattiness and hunger for abuse. “The real question is, can Tecta keep up with you?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her grin turning almost drunken. “Maestro has shown me so much. Taught me new ways to feel. And it’s only been a few months, I can only imagine where Xe intends to take me next, and I hope you can find someone who makes you as happy as Xe makes me, and…” She trailed off, wiggling happily. “Whether they happen to be human, affini, or something else entirely,” she added.

It was sweet of her. It wasn’t likely to be an affini, though. Ophrys had shown me a lovely time, but I couldn’t see myself in a collar, after all. “Well, I’m going to head out. Drop this all off, if nothing else.”

“Mmkay!” She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I want pictures!”

“You’ll get them!” I said as I stood up. I hoisted my bags, bid her farewell, and started walking. It was less crowded than it’d been that morning — everyone who was coming was already at the fair for the most part. I suppose that made me easier to spot. It made him easier to see coming, but I didn’t realize who he was until he stood in my way.

Rodney had lost weight. He’d never been heavyset, but the lanky frame that made strangers think he was from somewhere off-world, somewhere with gravity just a bit lighter than home, now made him look thin. If he wasn’t clean-cut and clean-shaven, he’d look haggard. He was in a tailored suit, and if I didn’t know him, I’d say he looked good in it.

“You look good,” he said, as if Tam hadn’t gone to court to get a restraining order against him.

“What are you doing here?” Don’t engage. Don’t get let him set the terms. “How did you even–”

“I looked you up. I do that, every so often. I like to know how my wife–”

“I am not your wife.”

“–is doing,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. Classic Rodney. “Is that any great crime? My understanding is that we don’t have those anymore.”

“Rodney, we are divorced,” I said, glaring up at him. “And there’s a restraining order. You know that.”

“The court that signed that travesty no longer exists,” he said. The vein in his temple was standing out again. He was controlling the anger for now, probably because we were in a public place. “And as to divorce, you know the Movement doesn’t recognize it. Marriage is cryptographically ordained and immutably written to Q3B–”

“I don’t care about whatever misogynist blockchain bullshit the stationmaster pulled from a Q-drop’s metadata, Rodney!” I had to cut this off, had to keep him from building steam, otherwise he’d never stop. “We are not married. We are not going to re-marry. I do not want you in my life at all.” Fuck politeness. Tam trained me too well to let him walk all over me like he used to.

For a moment, I saw him winding up to shout, but for the first time ever in my experience of Rodney, he actually stopped. “Fine,” he said, barely restraining what was obviously fury. I won’t lie, it scared me, but I kept it out of my face. He’d given me plenty of practice at that. “We’ll discuss it later.”

“There isn’t going to be a later, Rodney.” Not one inch.

“After you read this, you’ll think otherwise.” He reached into his suit’s inner pocket and pulled out what must have been a gift-wrapped book. “Don’t open this until you’re somewhere they won’t see it.”

I rolled my eyes. They. Of course he was some kind of closet feralist. “I’m not reading that, Rodney.”

“Listen, I know we’ve had our differences–” I snorted, and he glared at me, “–but you’re my wife– you’re my wife,” he repeated over my protest, “and I am worried about you. Which is why I brought you this.” He held it out. I didn’t take it.

“My life is not your concern,” I told him. “I’m leaving.” He moved to block me as I started walking, but I skirted past him and kept going. “Leave me alone!”

“This is important, Elena!” he hissed as he powerwalked after me. “Listen, with all the perverts and traitors around–” Good God. “–you need to be able to protect yourself!”

“Protect myself?” I snapped, not turning to look at him. “Christ, Rodney, do you even hear yourself when you talk?”

“From their influence! They were around before, too, they convinced you that you’re some kind of lesbian–”

“I am.”

“–and tried to ruin our marriage–”

“You did that just fine by yourself.”

“–but I won’t let them have you!” He’d followed me into the transit hub by now, where a train was waiting and people were filing on and off. He got more than a few stares.

“It’s none of your concern!” I stopped short at the threshold of the train car and turned just as he almost ran into me. “And furthermore, Rodney, I am one of those perverts! That was a fetish fair I just came out of! I got a bunch of new slutty things to wear that you will never see but a whole lot of women will. I. Am. A. Lesbian. We are not married. Fuck. Off!” I stepped backwards just as the tone for the door sounded, and it slid shut before he realized what was happening and followed me. He slammed a hand against the door, but the train was already moving. Within ten seconds he was left far behind, and I let out a sigh of relief.

“Is everything alright, little one?” I felt a vine come down across my shoulders, and glanced over them to see a vaguely masculine affini looking down on me with a concerned look on his face.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I told him (?), doing my best to look it. “Sorry about that, just my ex-husband being a stubborn jerk.”

“I see,” he rumbled. “Is there anything I might do? Perhaps something to settle you, or–?” One of his vines, tipped with a bright pink flower, dangled in my field of vision.

“Is that ethka? That’s what my vet likes me to take when I get stressed, but of course I left the inhaler at home because I haven’t used the thing in like, eight months, I haven’t needed–”

“It is, thankfully, ethkavaleric acid,” he said, pushing the flower a little closer. I reached out, pulled it close, and took a half-sniff — it smelled right, just like the inhaler did, kind of sweet without being cloying, a faint whiff of something almost vanilla-like underneath the main floral scent. Almost immediately, I felt muscles I hadn’t realized I was clenching relax.

“That’s much better, thank you,” I said, releasing his flower and letting out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t taken much, not enough to get high, just enough to take the edge off.

“My pleasure, little one. Where exactly in the Red Tape District are you headed?”

“The…” I blinked. “Oh, damn, I must have gotten on the wrong train.” I’d gotten on the train that was there, just to get away from Rodney, but I didn’t want to look any more put out and defenseless and give the affini the wrong idea by it. “I suppose I’ll just change trains at the next station. No big deal.”

“I could show you around a bit~” he mused. “I have a position at Xenocultural Curation & Cataloguing, you know. Lovely place. We have a theater for viewing film and other visual media–” Oh. He’d gotten the wrong idea.

“Well, actually I do know someone who works at Transitional Decarceralization, funny enough. Maybe I’ll look in on them.”

“Oh? I’ve never had much to do with that office, though I know we sent over quite a lot of historical media regarding incarceration a little while back. I’ve seen quite a few of them, you know, films about your carceral industry, and I must say you certainly needed the help!”

“I used to work for a defense attorney before you showed up,” I told him, smiling politely but not too much, “so I know what you mean, believe me. We really screwed up a lot before you got here to straighten things out.” None of that was untrue, and it often helped mollify affini you were trying to let down gently to let them know how much you appreciated the cultural mission of domestication even if you weren’t looking for the personal touch. The train was already slowing as it pulled into a station, one clearly designed more for the Affini even than the usual ones. “Well, here we are. Have fun watching movies!”

“Oh, I shall, little one,” he said, bracing me with his vine as the train came to a stop. “And you have fun over at Transitional Decarceralization!”

“Just like old times.” I gave me one last polite smile as the door opened, and then I set out. The architecture here was pure Affini opulence, literal gold leaves over sweeping, unhewn timbers that vaulted up a dozen meters or more. It was just another transit stop, but it was built like an old central rail station, the ones preserved as museums you used to have to pay to go into. Just a liminal space, but they still considered it worthy of artfulness.

The street outside was no different. It had once been the financial district, the heart of the city; Tam used to come here for meetings with the money clients who ultimately bankrolled her defense work. The old Terran skyscrapers had been replaced by new Affini construction, shining towers of wood and glass that allowed the sun to flow like a waterfall into every street and alley. Signs in Affini, and a dozen other languages, swarmed a small directory plaza just outside the station, and around that a collection of small cafes, mainly populated by affini — though a few had their florets with them, and those affini were happily engaged in feeding their pets. Just another day in the Compact.

I suddenly felt very worn out despite the cyclozoikane. I took a seat next to one of the Affini-size benches in the directory plaza and set down the bags, leaning up against the leg and letting out a deep, weary sigh. Fucking Rodney. Radio silence for years only to pull this shit out of nowhere. I was going to have to talk to Tam about it, figure out what steps to take to get whatever the Affini version of a TRO was, and find out if it was possible to block him so completely online that he couldn’t just “look me up” anymore. All these thoughts and plans and contingencies were driven completely out of my head, however, by the voice I heard just as they began to settle into place.

“Elena?”

Chapter 8

“Ophrys?” I blinked up at her as she loomed over me, the midafternoon sun bringing out the true brilliance of her colorful flora. “What are you doing here?”

“I rather imagine that’s my question to you, since I work not far from here.” She knelt down next to me. “Is everything quite alright? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

“Oh, I just got on the wrong train after going to a fair with Clara,” I told her. I did not need to air out my problems with her.

“Mmm, I see. And the scent of–” She took a deep breath. “–ethkavaleric acid, unless I’m much mistaken? Did something upset you?”

I closed my eyes. She’d asked directly, and she could find out trivially easily if she really wanted to. I bowed to the inevitable. “I just ran into my ex.” No need to use the word ‘stalked,’ that would just make things worse. “I’m happy to report that he still gets under my skin just as much as he used to. I told him to get lost, and I’m fine.” I had my face fully composed, now I knew I had an audience. I was fine. “Then on the train another affini offered me a hit of ethka, and I took him up on it. I think he is right, anyway, I never actually got his name.”

“I see.” She reached out and began to curl a lock of my hair around one finger. “You’re quite certain you’re alright, then? From what you told me, Rodney was a particularly unpleasant partner.”

“Oh, he was,” I said, “and I’ve no doubts about that still being the case. Still can’t bring himself to go three sentences without mentioning the Movement.” I allowed myself a roll of the eyes. The Qpers were ridiculous, and it didn’t hurt to show Ophrys that I wasn’t in any danger of being sucked back in.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re alright,” Ophrys said, smiling down at me. “And it is, of course, lovely to see you regardless of circumstances. And what of these, hmm?” Her smile growing wider, her gaze slid over to one of the big shopping bags loaded with fetish gear. “I thought I might have also detected the scent of rubber…”

“I– I– I just went out to a fair with a friend and got a few things,” I stammered out, grabbing the bag and folding the top closed.

“Surely you’re not embarrassed, Elena?” It was a full-on ear to ear grin now, just a little wider than her otherwise thoroughly Terran visage ought to allow — the predatory nature of the Affini on full display. She was enjoying watching me squirm, enjoying my flustered response. I had to get control back, and I had to do it quick.

“It’s just– I wanted it to be a surprise, that’s all.” Yep. That’s all I could think of in the moment. Better than “I don’t want you to see it unless it’s on me,” at least, that was dangerously flirtatious. I doubt Ophrys would be able to hold herself back if I’d said something like that.

“Oooh, a surprise?” She laughed, patting me on the cheek. At least that hand wasn’t exploring the bags. “You are utterly precious, you know that? Well, I certainly must return the favor with a surprise of my own. How would you like to join me for an impromptu mini-date? You see, I was just on my way to that cafe over there for a selection of mineral-infused teas for the office, and I happen to know they make teas perfectly suitable for you terrans as well. What say we get you something to keep those jangled nerves soothed once the ethkavaleric acid wears off, and then I give you a little tour of the office of Transitional Decarceralization?”

“I– well, I wouldn’t say no to the tea, anyway,” I said. “And I’ll admit I’m a little curious about the office. Tam’s described it to me but I don’t know that her words really conveyed it.”

“Tam is a lovely sophont, but she is not the most artistic soul I’ve ever come across, no,” Ophrys said, chuckling and helping me to my feet. “Well, that settles it. What a delightful opportunity to spend time together!” One hand in hers, the other clutching my bags (at least, until Ophrys relieved me of them — they were awfully heavy to carry one-handed, and she very scrupulously did not look inside), Ophrys led me over to the cafe, ordered a flight of various teas in Affini, then helped me pick out a nice genmaicha for myself. The smooth, slightly toasty flavor was surprisingly soothing after all.

Now, Tam had told me that Affini offices weren’t like Terran offices, and had even showed me a picture of her desk setup, a surface of polished living wood with flat and holographic displays and a compiler built in for paperwork and other necessities. It had deep flowers that produced ink, and glowing sheets of moss that evenly lit the whole thing. It was one of the most stunningly gorgeous displays I’d ever seen, quintessentially Affini, and it absolutely did not prepare me for the rest of Transitional Decarceralization.

As Ophrys led me in, I craned my neck to look up at the massive arched ceiling of the circular space. The walls all rose to gracefully merge into a single point, from which hung a sort of chandelier-planter streaming with creeper vines, flowers in every hue, and even fruits nestled within like hidden treasures, just barely visible. All around the perimeter there were soft looking couches, just a little too big to be designed for terrans but not really full-size Affini furniture either. I looked around the open, airy space, wondered where the desks and such were, and that’s when I realized that this was just the entryway.

“I designed that,” Ophrys purred, nodding up at the chandelier-planter.

“It’s beautiful.” That was all I could think to say. She reached up with one of her vines and plucked a fruit, something about the size and shape of a kumquat, and placed it in my hand. “Is this–?”

“Drugged? No. Just a tasty snack for a tasty snack.” Her vine found its way to the small of my back and gently guided me forward. “It’s relatively quiet today, which makes it all the more ideal for a little tour. I assure you, everyone will be quite excited to see you.”

“Okay,” I said, without adding that what she’d said was precisely what I was afraid of. One amorous affini, I could handle, but an entire office…

The interior of the office drove that thought out of my mind. There was simply no room for it, not while I was taking in the sheer scale of the Office of Transitional Decarceralization. It was like a forest had been manicured, perfectly sculpted to create walls, floor, furniture, dividers. Above, the canopy gently filtered the light from either a colossal skylight or the highest-fidelity holographic projection I’d ever seen. A gentle breeze kept the air, rich with the scent of loam and growing things, as fresh as the outdoors, all without so much as ruffling the papers on the desks that were taller than I was. I could tell it was meant to be an office, even to resemble a Terran office, but the sheer alienness of everything lent it a powerfully uncanny energy. I felt like a small animal that should step warily and ever be ready to dart back to its burrow at the first sign of a predator.

It was beautiful, but it was utterly overwhelming. I don’t think I heard half of what Ophrys told me as she set my bags on a table-like tree near the entrance. My body followed her automatically with only a little guidance from her vine. I wondered if it was a kind of hypnosis, to be overawed like this.

Ultimately, what shook me out of it was the sight of someone familiar — Ophrys had taken me directly to Tam’s desk, a clearing where the sunlight streamed in, clear and bright, leaving her illuminated like a spotlight had been thrown on her. “Ophrys, there you are, I was about to organize a search party!”

“I was waylaid by the most dangerous of things, an adorable terran,” she replied. “There she was, waiting in the transit plaza! I simply had to say hello and offer her a tour of the office.”

“You know, I was wondering why you had my former paralegal in tow,” Tam said, grinning down at me. “Hello, Elena. What brings you to the Red Tape District?”

“Got on the wrong train after a Rodney encounter,” I told her, quickly adding, “It’s okay, I’m fine, I promise,” as I watched her immediately shift into Concern Mode. I’d seen this happen dozens of times, though not since she’d had all the vines grafted to her, which added a new dimension to the way every part of her body cocked itself like a sprinter ready to bolt off the block at the sound of the pistol. “I told him to get lost, and I got away as quick as I could, just like you always told me.”

“Well, that’s good at least,” Tam said, sighing and relaxing ever so slightly, her vines resuming their gentle shifting. “Do you want me to come after him over it? The TRO is ostensibly still valid as a status quo ante judicial order not in violation of the Human Domestication Treaty, but I could get you declared annates if you’d like that to be something we approach from within Compact procedures.”

“I don’t think that’s really necessary,” I told her. I remembered what an ordeal getting the restraining order had been, and how Tam had had to go to court repeatedly as Rodney tried to fight it. I knew it wouldn’t be the same under the Compact, but I still couldn’t shake the sense that it would metastasize into something bigger than it already was. “Look, he took two years under the Compact to work up the nerve to pull this, I think getting told to his face to go away might actually stick given how scared he is of all of you.” Honestly, I was stunned he hadn’t been domesticated already, but Rodney had always been good at code switching when he wanted to be. That was how he’d lured me in, after all.

Tam gave me a skeptical look. “Alright, but if he bothers you again I expect to be the first one to hear about it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I gave her a smile along with the sarcasm. She was probably the one affini I could get away with that sort of thing with. “So, how goes Decarceralization today?”

“Nice and quiet, though, since you’re back, Ophrys, could I get you to take a look at this wellness check itemized behavioral improvement analysis? I’m still a little fuzzy on these, and I want to make sure I’m not making any mistakes.”

“Of course,” Ophrys said. “Elena, this won’t take a moment, but if you like, you could explore a little, perhaps deliver these teas to some very appreciative clerks?” She smiled and held out the tray of drinks. It was the size of a pizza box, and each travel cup like a 2 liter bottle, but it was pretty firm and had handles on both sides, which made it surprisingly easy to carry. “It’ll make your sudden appearance all the more charming! And I’ll take care of this,” she added, a vine taking charge of my now-empty genmaicha. Tam said something in Affini, and Ophrys let out a laugh. I got the distinct sense that it was something about me.

“I’d say you owe me one, but I know better than that,” I said with a mock sign of ironic annoyance. “Fine, I’ll play office barista.” I still had the buzz from the cyclozoikane, so having something to do honestly felt good. Ophrys probably even knew that, if she could smell the ethka on me, and like all affini she was a compulsive meddler. “Tam, I believe this one is yours?”

“Oooh, thank you, flower~” she said, taking her cup and giving me a pat on the head before going back to her conversation with Ophrys in Affini. I couldn’t bring myself to peeved at her behavior — she was clearly getting a major hit of euphoria from getting to treat me like that, and you’ll recall that I was very into Tam when we first met. I only asked her to stop hitting on me after she hired me, and not only was she not my boss anymore, but she’d taken on a social role that actively encouraged her to treat me in a way that, as long as it was a woman doing it, I found extremely fucking hot.

So I didn’t answer back. I just stood there, blushing, until Ophrys gave me a gentle stroke with her hand, fixed my hair for me, and turned me around and gave me a gentle, encouraging push with her vines. She added a wink as I spun around. That made me blush even more.

I made my way through the forest-slash-office, stopping whenever I came across an affini at their desk; this was sometimes a challenge, as they tended to blend in with the foliage surrounding them. I found Karyon first — her desk was very close to Tam’s, which didn’t surprise me in the least. She gave me one of her little giggles along with another pat on the head. I found Vanda next, seated dead-center of the office, very visible, and while she was very polite and talked a bit about game night, she never so much as slowed down her handling of paperwork, which made it entirely clear to me that I was not her primary focus no matter how much attention she was lavishing on me.

Quite the opposite was true when it came to Senna. I almost tripped over their vines as I passed by them totally unaware, their body blending in so well with the ambient greenery that I didn’t see them until well after their vines were around me and lifting me into a very distributed hug. I think they must have spent ten minutes at least cooing over me before I was able to convince them to let me make my final delivery to Anthemis.

He too was difficult to find, but mostly because he was lying across the floor of the office instead of sitting more or less upright like the others. I handed his tea off to him, thankfully still warm thanks to the magic of Affini disposable cup technology, and then tried to fix my hair. I found a few of Senna’s leaves in it. “Sorry that took so long.”

“Don’t worry about it, little one. I was never in any great rush,” he said, smiling indulgently as he set the cup on the floor and slipped a vine into the little fold-open slot in the lid. “We like to take things easy in this corner of the office.”

“We?” But almost before I was done speaking, Anthemis’ potbelly rustled, and a sleepy (or very, very high) floret poked their head out.

“Mmmup, mmup,” they mumbled, rubbing at one eye and yawning. “Oh. Hiii…”

“Hey there, uh, Sammy, right?” I vaguely remembered him — and I was pretty sure Sammy was a he, despite him looking more feminine than I did — from Tam’s party, though he’d spent almost the entire time in Judy’s den with all the other florets except Clara. “Naptime?”

“Uhh… Mastertime!” he said, laughing lightheartedly and sprawling back against his owner. My brain struggled to remind me that regardless of how cute he was, he was in fact a guy, and I shouldn’t be reading him as a woman just because he really, really looked like one. And in any case, he was a floret. A floret’s floret, if ever there was one, high as a kite and barely aware of the world around him.

I’m not a feralist. I’m really not. I think that as long as Sammy’s happy, it’s fine for him to be this way. I’m not going to judge him or kinkshame him or anything like that, but I won’t lie, I think every independent worries they might end up like Sammy. And I can say “every” because all the ones who wanted that kind of life were almost certainly all collared by now.

Ophrys and Tam were still deep in conversation when I found my way back to them. Ophrys quickly relieved me of my now-empty tray and lavished affection on me, her vines gently carding through my hair to fully untangle and reshape it the way I liked it. I won’t deny it felt wonderful, even if it was a little embarrassing that they kept talking as though I wasn’t there for several minutes longer. Finally, Ophrys looked down at me and asked, in English, “Did you burn off a little of that anxious energy?”

“I think so, yeah,” I said, leaning into her touch. “I should probably get going, though. You’ve all got important work to do and I’m in the way.”

“Nonsense, flower,” Ophrys purred into my ear. “You can’t leave yet. After all, you haven’t seen my desk.”

Chapter 9

Notes:

Content expectations: Staring into the unvarnished and unflinching light of truth that is Ophrys Boquila, Third Bloom. Discussion of deep time. Also, Elena meets Ophrys' second floret, sort of. Tears will be shed, but remember, this is the Compact, and sorrow is temporary at most.

I don’t know what I was expecting. This was Ophrys — for all I know her desk was some kind of art gallery set apart from the rest of the office. It wasn’t that, not quite, but it was clearly intended to be art-forward. There was the usual Affini aesthetics of flower and leaf, colorful and alive, shifting gently in the wind. Breeze. Fan. However fresh air circulated through the office in a totally natural way. But there was so much more going on.

Ophrys’ office was nestled into a small depression in a clearing, a glossy desk surface wrapping around half the perimeter. Atop it were the common office accoutrements, but there were other things as well: small sculptures, some abstract, some representations of what must have been xenosophonts I wasn’t familiar with; an entire rack of inks, paints, brushes, and tools to create art, along with underslung shelves of parchments, papers, and and other canvasses; and finished works of art, or nearly finished, that had been clearly made by Ophrys herself. Many of them, I could barely see atop the desk, but the ones hanging around the low-slung walls around the depression were on full display. There were landscapes from around the Punchbowl that I recognized, a few still lifes…and a portrait of me, on the balcony of the restaurant in Casablanca, looking back over my shoulder and half-silhouetted by the sunrise.

It was all so beautiful, but that portrait was what seized my attention and robbed me of my words. “Oh… wow.”

“Yes, this is where the magic happens,” Ophrys said cheerfully. “A little slice of paradise here in the middle of Transitional Decarceralization. Ah, and I see you’ve noticed my latest piece.”

“Y-yeah.” I still couldn’t take my eyes off it. “It’s…amazing.” And also, just a little scary.

“I think I captured your eyes in this moment particularly well,” Ophrys went on, her vines coiling around my shoulders and pulling me into a snuggle. “It’s all rendered in traditional Terran pigments and style, of course — I thought that was most appropriate. And I very much wanted to preserve my memory of that night.”

“It…it was really lovely, yeah,” I said. And it was, but the Rodney run-in had amped up all the fears that Ophrys had seemingly laid to rest that night. “I had a good time.”

Ophrys was silent for a moment, a soft rustling the only sounds she made. “I sense a certain hesitance. Is everything alright? Is your encounter with Rodney still weighing on you?”

I laughed awkwardly. “Wow, you really can read me like a book, huh?”

“I endeavor to always be sensitive to your needs and mood. In this case — I expect that ‘My girlfriend has, unprompted, rendered a portrait of me in oil paint’ is a feeling that leaves you somewhat overwhelmed, perhaps even concerned, in a manner not unlike your previous relationship may have caused. Am I right?”

I nodded. ‘It is lovely, and I’m flattered, it’s just–” I trailed off, totally unable to finish the sentence.

Ophrys’ hand came down on my shoulder, a gentle and comforting weight. “You were unprepared? You worry that it betokens a commitment you are as-yet unprepared for?” When I didn’t answer, she added, “I suspect that you may not have fully internalized an important detail about the nature of the Affini, my dear.”

“And that is?”

“I will, in all likelihood, live long enough to watch your star grow cold.” That was not what I expected to hear. “I will outlive your world’s ability to support life, even with planetary and stellar engineering. I will outlive your star. I will be here for the union of the the Milky Way and Andromeda — and yes, we are already planning for it, to ensure that it does not disrupt life for the Compact’s inhabitants.” She knelt down next to me, her shimmering eyes looking into mine, a sad expression on her face. “To you, I must seem immensely old with my eight-hundred years, but I am young, Elena, so young, and time yawns wide before me. There is so much beauty, so many ephemeral moments, that will not endure unless I ensure that they do not slip from memory — especially my own.”

“…oh.” It came out as a whisper, and my eyes were wet at the corners.

“Shh, weep not, little one,” she whispered back, brushing the tears away. “It is what we have made ourselves for, because you and all the other sophonts of this universe are worth it. We made the Bureaucracy, in part, to be our collective memory, but many affini take matters into their own hands. I have not only fixed this moment of lightness and joy in my memory as indelibly as I can, but I have preserved the very image in oil pigment. Your beauty and your smile will endure for ages that I do not think either of us, as we are now, can fully grasp. I will not permit entropy to steal this moment and lock it away in an inaccessible past.” Her lips curved in that beautiful smile of hers. “Even if we elect to merely be friends, I want to remember that moment, and I want to remember you.”

“Uhm…wow. Okay.” I sucked down a breath to try to banish the huskiness from my voice. “None of you has ever really put it that way, you know? About time and everything like that.”

“We don’t often have cause to bring it up, and it can distress some xenosophonts. Personally, however, I believe it is important to gaze unflinchingly at the truth. Art, true art, requires nothing less.”

I was honestly speechless. What did you say to something like that? To being told that an immortal alien cared enough about a date to take steps like that? “You’re…one hell of an artist.” It didn’t feel like enough. I wasn’t sure anything I could say would be. “Did you do all of these?” I asked, glancing around Ophrys’ office.

“Yes, these are all my work,” she replied. “I’m presently in a canvas phase, representational in particular — I often get this way early in a domestication campaign — but I practice art of all kinds.”

“Wow.” My eyes lingered on one piece in particular, a bust of some kind of vaguely rabbit-like alien. “Was this someone else you knew?”

Her vines coiled around my arm just a little tighter. “This is Loqesh, my second floret. La is a lagom — have you heard of them?” When I shook my head, she added, “They are a sophont species who co-evolved with a sophont predator species, the carlai. Their entire culture was shaped by carlai predation, and they require such close, intensive care.” She let out a soft sigh. “And yet, even so, the art they created…”

“They were…sophonts being hunted by other sophonts?” When Ophrys nodded, all I could add was “Jesus…”

"They endured much, and their art spoke to it. but there was joy in it too. A passion for a future wherein none need fear, even if that fear still followed them. I’ll show you some of laum work sometime. La is an architect — a tunnel artist I think is the best way to say it in English, a creator of spaces that are also stories.”

“That’s… really neat.” I said, increasingly aware that I had very little to bring to the table in that department. I was no artist. There was no grand vision that I was struggling to get out of my head and out into the world for others to see. but maybe that didn’t matter? Maybe it was enough to simply be the appreciative eye? To see the beauty, as Ophrys put it, that others brought into the world through skill and desire. “I think I’d really like to meet...la?"

A strange ripple ran through Ophrys. It was subtle, but spoke to a deep and profound feeling, given how carefully composed she normally kept herself. "Regrettably, I must tell you that Loqesh stopped running many decades ago," she said softly. "Which is to say, for clarity, since you do not know their culture, that she has passed away. But to the Lagom, the dead live on through their archival records, and laum work is in many ways a part of that record. Through it, you may certainly come to know lal, and I would be very happy to show you laum work."

It took me a moment to find words after that, and Ophrys gave me the time, her vines a constant, gentle presence around me. “Well, then... I guess I should say I want to meet lal through– laum, right? –work. And honestly, you can show me anything else you want to.” I rubbed at one eye and put a smile on my face. “I might not know a lot about art, but I didn’t know anything about being a paralegal before Tam hired me, and she can tell you I got pretty good at it.”

Ophrys made that wood-block chitter again, and swept me up into her arms — I was too stunned to complain. “Your willingness to indulge my passions is both deeply precious and incredibly attractive,” she purred, smiling down at me. “We really are quite compatible, are we not? Oh, the things I’ll show you, my dear–”

“Oooh, what are we showing off today?” Tam’s familiar voice broke through Ophrys’ overwhelming presence, and my eyes shifted over to her, standing on the far side of one of the dividers around Ophrys’ space and leaning over it with a grin on her face. When she caught my eye, she added, “Enjoying the gallery?”

“Actually, yeah,” I said, laughing, “though I wasn’t expecting the ride to go along with the art show.”

“I could scarcely resist,” Ophrys said, mock-defensively. “Such a precious creature as this, I’m stunned you didn’t make her yours years ago.”

“Well, if I knew then what I knew now, I just might have,” Tam replied, giving me a wink. Whether it meant ‘just kidding’ or ‘I’m very seriously considering domesticating you,’ I couldn’t tell. “What do you think, Elena, would you make a good connivent for my Judypup?”

“You just want a free dogwalker,” I joked, squelching the heat that suddenly bloomed in my belly. Do not fantasize about Tam collaring you, I told myself. She might have looked Terran before but she was 100% Affini where it counted, and there weren’t any Terran mores holding her back anymore. “And what would the point be, all dogwalkers are free now anyway!”

I’ll give Tam this, she laughed at my dumb joke and didn’t press the matter. “Well, anyway, I just filed that last case and I was going to get home to start Judy’s dinner, and I thought you might like to have some company given the whole Rodney thing?”

Well, that was a bucket of ice water right on my head. She was right, though — if Rodney was stalking me, having Tam around might actually discourage him. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” I said, turning to look up at Ophrys. “Sorry to just take off like this.”

“Nonsense,” Ophrys said, “Tam’s quite right. Besides, even just a moment with you is an utter delight. We’ll talk later, yes? Perhaps plan another date?”

I felt the warmth come back, felt it sneak up into my cheeks. “Yeah, I’d like that,” I said, and it was true. She might have been an incredibly overwhelming immortal 800-year-old space alien, but she was also charming, considerate, and for some reason obviously interested in me. Not to mention, she’d given me by far the best date I’d ever had, even post-Compact, and she was without a doubt the partner I’d clicked best with right off the bat. And she had promised. “I’d like that a lot.”

So we made our goodbyes, and she handed me off to Tam (literally!), and soon we were on our way, the train slipping along through Vancouver’s core on the way to the residential ring. Tam sat on one side of me, and my bags of loot on the other. Rodney was nowhere to be seen, and the cyclozoikane was beginning to wear off, leaving me not exhausted by certainly feeling the day I’d just had. “Thank you for this,” I murmured, my head leaning against Tam’s side.

“Of course,” she said, one of her vines squeezing my shoulders. “You’re my friend, and I care about you.”

“And I’m an adorable little xenosophont in need of assistance.”

“That too,” she said, laughing.

I could have let it sit. I probably should have. But I had to know. “Were you being serious back there? About domesticating me?”

“And step all over Ophrys’ roots?” She chuckled and quickly added, “I know about the promise she made you. Relax, okay?”

She was still such a lawyer. “That’s not a yes or a no.”

“Because I don’t know. In a perfect world, where I bloomed Affini to begin with, maybe, but as it is I worry enough about justifying my ownership of Judy, and trying to add another floret to the mix…” She sighed, and the gesture was so human it threw me. “I really do hate that I have to do that calculus.”

“You really shouldn’t. But I know my vote doesn’t mean much.”

“It means a lot to me.” She ran her fingers through my hair in a way my brain struggled to read as the platonic gesture I knew it was. “Is that enough of an answer for you?”

“I guess.” I listened to the soft sound of the train for a moment. “Do you think Ophrys meant it? Her promise?”

“From what I know of her, I do.” The sun broke through as we slipped out of the city core, and the windows polarized to manage the light streaming in through the window. “I’m glad you two are connecting. I have a good feeling. I think you’ll be good for each other.”

“Yeah?” I smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had had a good feeling about any of my relationships. “Well. Who knows?”

Tam helped me down and walked me the rest of the way home, not stopping until I was inside my building and in the elevator. I paused outside my door. “Hab, is there anyone in my apartment?” Only when it told me ‘no’ did I enter, setting down my bags, locking the door behind me, and breathing a sigh of relief. Rodney aside, it had been a good day.

I reminded myself of that by unpacking and properly storing all my new gear, piece by piece. Stuff this nice deserved the care. It wasn’t until I got to the bottom of the second bag that I found it.

The gift-wrapped book. Rodney must have slipped it in while he was following me. I should have thrown it right out, but morbid curiosity compelled me. I had to know what ridiculous bullshit Rodney was trying to push on me, if only to ridicule it to his face if he tried to ambush me again. Knowing him, it could be anything from old-school flat-Earth nonsense to conspiracy theories about strange matter being made by torturing children. I’d been instructed to believe some truly batshit things by the Qpers — thankfully, none of them had stuck.

The wrapping paper came away easily enough. What was beneath was a leatherbound book, with nothing but a simple title. The first page had two names on it, one the author, the other the editor. The former I’d never heard of, but the latter was familiar to me — Didn’t she murder someone a decade or so ago? There’d been a big scandal, I vaguely recalled, some trillionaire’s family apoplectic with rage at the sudden death of their favorite son.

“Freedom’s Ember?” I muttered to myself. “What the fuck is this?”

Notes:

Special thanks to Dame_Harmony for beta-reading the section on Loqesh. The Lagom are from Lin Ralazinziq, a series that, as far as I and many others are concerned, is required reading.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of The Punchbowl