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“Bless me, Father”

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I stepped into the confessional booth nervously. I had planned everything; imagined every step. Yet still, I was anxious to the point of being jittery. I was sure it was going to go as I intended, or almost so: you never really know. As I sat down on the little bench, I closed the wood-paneled door behind me. I took two deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. I had just about accomplished that, when I heard the door on the opposite side open, and then close.

I knew it was Father Daniel, the slightly older priest who’d been in the church for longer than I had been alive, and I knew it was him because I had watched and figured out his schedule. He was here on Tuesday afternoons just after lunch, every week. I also knew that there would be practically no other parishioners there at that time, because I had tracked that, too. I wanted to catch him alone. All alone. I took another deep breath, and began. Calmly. Assuredly.

“Bless me, Father, for I am about to sin.” The variation caught him a little off-guard, but only a little. “How long since your last confession, dear?”, he asked, trying to refocus the confession. I didn’t allow that, because I’d planned not to allow him to change the direction of things. “That doesn’t matter, Father, because I don’t want to be forgiven for what I’ve been doing or thinking since the last time I was here”, I answered. “I just want you to give me a blessing for what I’m about to do.”

“Tyler? Is that you?” He asked. Of course, he recognized my voice; he had known me my whole life. All of it. He had baptized me. First communion. CYO. All of it. “Of course, Father”, I said. He went on. “If you haven’t committed the sin yet, then just don’t do it, and you won’t need forgiveness”, was his reply. I could hear the uncertainty about the destination of the conversation begin to enter his voice, and I could hear him trying to get back on a familiar plane. I was having none of it. “I didn’t ask for forgiveness, Father: I asked for your blessing. Are you going to bless me or not?”

“Before I can act, dear, I need to know what it is you have in mind, and when: I can’t condone something without knowing what it is and who it might harm, including you.” “No one’s going to be hurt”, I countered, “least of all me: in fact, I’m going to be extremely happy.” I left the ambiguity to hang in the air. I could nearly hear the gears spinning in his head. And so I added, “And he’s going to be extremely happy, too. I just want your blessing first. Can you help me, Father Daniel, or what?”

He said nothing for nearly thirty seconds, then forty-five, pondering the imponderables. He’d been unable to pick at the request from one angle, so he tried another. “Tell me who ‘he’ is, the man that’s going to be happy . . . and how he’ll be made happy.” It was time for bombshell number one. “I’m going to give him my virginity.” I heard him lean back on his bench attached to the wall in the opposite half-booth, and I heard him breathe in deeply and aksaray escort exhale. He thought he was approaching safer ground, talking about abstinence and the church doctrines on adultery and birth-control. “Tyler”, he said my name, “we’ve had this talk in class and in person before, and you know that it’s a sin to give yourself to a man before marriage, and you know that birth control is against the . . .”, “My parents refuse to give me birth control, because of the fucking church”, I interrupted, “and so I’m not going to worry about that, or about abortion, or about adultery.” It was earlier than I had planned to reach this point, but I was on a roll, and so I rolled on. “The man is in love with me, even though he hasn’t admitted it — a girl can just tell these things, trust me — and I’m going to have sex with him, and I’m going to do that today, multiple times, and I have no intention of violating the rules about contraceptives, so we’re going to go unprotected, and that’s actually what I want anyway: I want to feel that man up and in and deep and hard and pushing and cumming. My pussy just aches for him; my whole fucking body does.”

From the other side of the little screen, I could smell his fear. I was talking fast, and not allowing room or time for his counterpoints. He was losing ground in the conversation, and that was where I wanted him. “I’ve seen the way he responds to me whenever we’re together, even when other people are around. He wants me. I want him. And I’m going to fuck him. Repeatedly. And I’m going to have him cum in me. Repeatedly. We both want it. It’s going to happen. Repeatedly. And there’s nothing, not one fucking thing, that you can do to stop it. So, you might as well bless me and let me get on with fucking him.”

“I can’t bless you, Tyler; what you’re talking about doing, and even the filthy language you’re using to describe it, is against our religion. You know that. And you had to have known that before you came in here today. Didn’t you?” I said nothing. Not one word. I just sat there on my side of the wooden world, and let him think. “Tyler?”, he called. Again, a little louder: “Tyler?”

Eventually, I leaned into the screen. I waited a beat, two, then three. And I said again: “I want this man, Father Daniel. I’ve wanted him for a very long time. I get wet every time I’m around him. And the man wants me. He’s wanted me for a very long time. He gets hard every time he’s around me. Today, both of us are going to get what we want.” He tried again: “You knew my answer, didn’t you?” I laughed, but didn’t respond.

He allowed that to settle in the air for a second, and then tried to change course. “Is he waiting for you to come to him?”, he asked me. “He needs me to make the first move, and that’s how it will happen. Because I’m the age I am, he can’t initiate anything. I have to do that, and I will”. “But”, he said, “is he waiting for you now?” “Yes, he’s waiting for me to come to him. Right now. All I have artvin escort to do is walk in his door, and he’ll know. And he’ll do whatever I tell him to. Because he loves me. He needs me. Just me. Only me. He belongs to me. ME!”

“Is this man your age?” “No”, I said, “he’s grown.” “How long have you known him?” “My whole life.” “He could go to jail, you know, because of your age.” “Only if HE tells somebody, because I’m not telling anybody.” “Tyler, you’ve just told ME.” I laughed again. Louder. Longer. “What’s funny about that?” “Nothing, it’s just funny, is all.”

“I can’t bless you for the sin you are about to commit, for the damage it might cause, or for the disobedience to your parents. Have you even considered how they would feel if this man gets you pregnant?”

“I’m sorry, Father Daniel, but I have to go. My man is waiting on me. My man needs me. Please bless me, Father, for I am about to sin.”

“I can’t, Tyler. I won’t.”

“Bless me, Father, for I am about to sin. Hurry up. Bless me. Bless me, Father, for I am about to sin.”

“No, it’s not right. It’s not acceptable. It’s a violation of several commandments, all rolled into one single, sexual act. You’re lying, you’re committing adultery, and you’re dishonoring your father and mother, and by the time you’ve had sex with this man as many times as you . . .. What the . . .?” As he was speaking, I had silently exited the booth, walked around to his side, opened his door, and stood before him. Naked.

I stepped in quickly, before he could react. I straddled him on the bench, kneeling around him, and pressed my body against him, rubbing my tiny breasts in his face, and humping him slowly down below, rubbing my bald, dripping vulva along the length of his fly. I could feel his cock through the material of his pants. It was growing and it was warming. I knew he wanted me and I knew I would have him. He finally caught enough breath to moan and then say, “Tyler, we can’t, I can’t, I mean . . .” before I drove my tongue into his mouth and down his throat.

I reached down between my legs, and unzipped his pants, extracting his dick from the fly, allowing it to rise and lengthen and swell. “Oh, Christ . . . Oh, fuck”, he said as he pulled out of our kiss, looking down between us and seeing his slimy cockhead straining toward my glistening pussy. “Huhnnhhh, . . . I . . . I . . . that looks . . . you’re so . . . Oh, Christ . . . Oh, fuck”. With my right hand, I positioned his tip right at the mouth of my slit, and then I slid directly down on it. Slowly. Long before I reached the base of his cock, he exploded in me and cried out, “OH, TYLER! OH, TYLER! OHHHHH!”

He bucked up against me seven times, giving me more and more of his cream. I wrapped my arms around his head, and kissed him on the nose, holding him in a gentle embrace, as his semen oozed and oozed and oozed out of me. “This . . .”, he ultimately said, “this is just so . . .”. “Beautiful”, I finished his bartın escort sentence for him, before putting my tongue back in his mouth and beginning a slow rocking motion with my hips, his limp cock still buried in me. “Beautiful”, I said again, breaking the kiss only long enough to say that word, and then returning to his mouth. I could feel his rapidly returning erection, thickening, hardening, wanting.

“Stand up”, I ordered him, in a voice that made it clear I wasn’t asking. He did that, with me still wrapped around him, and with my pussy still wrapped around his cock. I opened the confessional booth door with my left hand, behind my back, and motioned for him to walk me out, which he did. He stopped suddenly and began looking around, nervously. “Don’t worry”, I told him, “nobody’s here, and I locked all the doors. We’re all alone. No one will bother us. No one will stop us. No one can.”

I nodded for him to take me to his right, and he began duckwalking with me on him, my legs hooked behind his back and my arms wrapped around his neck, his pants falling down around his ankles. “Keep going”, I said, “I’ll tell you when to stop”. Once he realized where I was taking him, he stopped again, and said, “Jesus, Tyler! We can’t do THAT!!” I laughed again, because he hadn’t realized that I was always going to get my way, and kicked him in the butt with my heels, hard, once, spurring him toward our destination. When we reached the point I’d selected, I said, “Look, Father: you didn’t bust me, but you’re going to. Right now. Right here.” He tried to resist, but his cock was resisting his resistance, and his cock was winning. “Lay me down.” I could feel his cockhead enlarge and grow even hotter. He wanted this as much as I did, and I told him, “See, Father, I told you: my man wants this every bit as much as I do. And he wants it in this very place.” He lowered me, holding onto my back and laying me flat, with my legs still behind his back and his cock still positioned partly inside my pussy and hard as steel.

As I laid back on the altar, and I reached out my arms, wide, tilted back my head, looked around at my surroundings, and relaxed my legs, allowing him to press deeper into me, to the point that I could feel my hymen starting to stretch and give. With only the slightest of additional effort, he broke the seal and pressed further into me, with a groan and an “Oh, fuck!”, before pulling back and thrusting in again. And then again. And then again. Opening a space that had never been opened before. As he reached my depth, he whispered, probably to himself as much as to me, “I’m going to cum”. I already knew. I could feel it boiling up in his balls as they pressed against me. So, there was only one thing left to do, to bring my plan to fruition and I did that. “Well,” I said to Father Daniel, “I guess I should tell you.” “Tell me what?”, he said, grunting, distracted by the imminent orgasm. I smiled up at him and said, “I’m ovulating.”

And in the second before he painted my vaginal walls virgin-white and spilled himself and his life and his soul into me, I said, “So, bless me, Father.” And that’s just what he did. Atop the altar. From inside me.

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Girlfriend with Testing Device Ch. 06

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Author’s Note: This is part six of my smutty romantic comedy series. This chapter is the final chapter of the Mall Arc, and while it’s not the sexiest, its got lots of crazy swaps going on. The next chapter marks the beginning of the Strip Club arc, where things start to get way sexier.

=-=-=-=-=

Warning: this chapter is rated a swap-happy R and includes (amongst other things), boobs, shoe shopping, sibling rivalry, parental swaps, boy bands, fashion, emotional maturity, emotional immaturity, hair swaps, high heels, higher heels, snooty fashionista bullies getting their comeuppance, random chaos, and a pair of crazy mixed up kids trying to do right by the world.

Girlfriend with Testing Device

– A Smutty Fanfiction, of Sorts –

= Part 6 — Malls well that ends Well =

So, looking back, the rest of the mall trip was a little hit or miss. It actually wasn’t so bad until we got to the food court, but damned if that chaos doesn’t kind of put a damper on the whole day.

Knowing what I know now I guess it wasn’t so bad. No one really got hurt (that didn’t deserve it, anyway,) and despite all the chaos, it was, well, kind of fun. Sure, the device got a little misused, but it’s not like we were being, well, evil about it or anything. No, after seeing first hand just what sort of pain that thing can cause, I know that what we were getting up to was child’s play in comparison.

But I guess I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Where was I?

Right. The rest of the mall trip was a little hit or miss. Despite all of that heartache about losing Evan’s body language and me being a terrible person with no self-control, we only had to go through, like, two more stores before we encountered my next victims.

Even ignoring his new sexy walk, shoe shopping with Evan was an experience to remember. He had this amazing tendency to go straight for the store’s highest heels. I have no idea how he managed to move around in them. I mean, I certainly hadn’t swapped anyone’s shoe proficiencies around, and yet he had no trouble bounding around in them like they were sneakers, showing off time and time again how crazy sexy his long shapely legs were.

My guess is that sometimes the device does weird things in order to keep people from just kind of falling over. Like, despite my center of balance being completely different with my new boobs and ass, I had no problems walking, and when I’d been wearing those fuck-me heels last night, I hadn’t had any trouble moving around in them at all. I don’t know if it’s a safety feature or some kind of just a quality of life thing. Don’t get wrong, I was grateful for it, but it made it hard to figure out if this was something I was somehow responsible for or not.

Evan, for example, kept insisting on trying on heels much higher than the ones either of us had been wearing last night and they weren’t even slowing him down. What was causing that? Was it the wardrobe swap? That would have given him as much experience with heels as I had previously, wouldn’t it? And the stuff he was wearing now was a whole other level from anything I’d ever tried before. Did the device considered shoe skill a form of body language? When we met back up with that girl would we find her unable to walk in anything higher than flats? Or was this just the device being generous? If the latter than why the heck wasn’t it doing anything to help me?

While Evan darted around the store (practically pirouetting at one point), I was doing that one thing that I’d always nagged at him about: erring on the side of comfort over fashion. In truth I had actually chosen several rather cute looking shoes, but whatever magical superpowers Evan’s calves seemed to have developed had apparently decided to give me a pass. I’m one of those girls who likes her heels low and respectable, the kind of thing you only really break out for special occasions. I certainly didn’t have the skills required for the 5+ inch stilettos Evan kept trying to get me to try on.

I mean, I tried the first few pairs, of course, but after falling flat on my enormous tits I realized it just wasn’t happening.

In the end I decided to just take advantage of the fact that going for smaller heels gave me a better variety of shoes to choose from, especially now that I had daintier, more normal-sized feet instead of my old annoyingly short and wide ones.

Honestly, I think I deserve credit for not swapping my heel skill with one of the girls who looked like they were regulars there. I was proud of myself for that. That took a lot of restraint. Especially with some of the weird bitchy looks they were giving me.

The saleswoman, an older lady who was a little overly supportive of my desire to wear female footwear, seemed amazed that I could walk in heels at all. I had tried to leave with just a variety of sexy flats and a pair of sneakers, but she had insisted that I’d want stuff with a bit of heel and flash on it when we went out on the town. She was right of course, but I was hardly in the mood to urfa escort admit it at the time.

Truth be told, part of the reason I was hesitant to really try stuff on was because I was finding myself increasingly troubled by my new jeans. I hadn’t thought too much about it when I’d tried them on, but it turns out that there’s a certain amount of space that a dick as big as mine requires that ultra-tight pants don’t really afford.

Maybe it was just the girly cut, or the fact that my dick was so naturally huge, but I felt like I had more cock and ball bulge going on than I had cleavage, and while the support was nice, I kept having to stop and make awkward adjustments, and that’s when I wasn’t hard as a rock from ogling my inconveniently sexy boyfriend. At least I was wearing appropriate underwear.

Having seen the best of both worlds, it is, in my professional opinion, totally weird that girls are the ones wearing skirts instead of guys. Pants are great, but when you need to make room for a great big dick, skirts are totally the way to go.

We made our way out of the shoe store. When we had entered that store, Evan was standing shorter than me. When we left, we were standing eye to eye. Not that I was looking at his eyes, of course, not with the way his long, silky legs were looking. We had started to accrue bags, and as strong as I’m sure Evan believed himself to be, I felt obligated to help out, even if it was just so I could have an excuse to watch the way Evan’s little skirt waved back and forth with every step.

We were just making our way over to a fourth shoe store when I saw them. It was that same pair from earlier — the bratty kid and his sister, the one who had been staring up my skirt on the elevator. The two of them were standing outside one of those stores that used to be a music store, but now mostly just sold DVDs and band paraphernalia. I don’t know if it was my familiarity with them or the fact that they were still so poorly dressed from the height swap, but the way they stood out was enough to draw my attention away from even Evan.

They had just come out of the store. I assumed by its comfortable fit that the heavy metal t-shirt the kid now wore must have been a recent purchase. The sister, conversely, seemed to have some kind of boy-band poster sticking out of her bag.

They were arguing about something, but I was too far away to really make it out. I guess arguing isn’t quite the right word. Arguing implies a back-and-forth parity. This was the brother yelling about something while the sister kind of stood there meekly and took it. Based on the way he was gesturing to the stuff they had just bought, and based on the girl’s reaction, I assumed that he was making fun of the girl’s musical tastes.

Despite — or perhaps because of — his smaller size, the older brother seemed to be using some pretty strong words. Whatever he was saying, the girl looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Okay, that pissed me off.

I just could not believe that this kid was still being an asshole to his sister. It made my blood boil. Sure, a part of it was that I had taught this kid a lesson twice already, but I also couldn’t help but remember how shitty my own brother had treated me when we were their age. If the shoe was on the other foot, this shit would never happen. I needed to deal with this kid once and for all.

I pulled out the device, but hesitated. I could feel that old familiar struggle inside me. This was the feeling I got when I knew deep down that I was going to wind up getting that second desert after all, the feeling that all the platitudes and bargaining in the world wasn’t going to do anything to make things better. It was that feeling where you know you should be doing something good, like working out or studying, but instead you just can’t work up the will to stop lazing around on the couch. I hated that feeling, and yet there I was, helpless to it.

After what felt like an eternity of arguing with myself, I began setting the dials. A part of me reasoned that at least it was a justifiable use of the device, but deep down I knew that that excuse was pretty hollow.

Carefully I dialed in my selection. This would be a pretty easy one, I figured. If I swapped their taste in music, then he wouldn’t be able to tease her about it, right? The fact that a kid his age probably wouldn’t be caught dead listening to boy-bands seemed like an acceptable additional layer of punishment. Would he consider it his dirty little secret, or would he be as open about it as the metal? I wondered if this would swap the intensity of their love of music too?

I grinned as I took aim, imagining him as one of those screaming fangirls you see at all the concerts and stuff, then I pressed the button.

I don’t know why, but I was expecting them to have, at the very least, swapped shirts. After all, what kind of convoluted explanation could this kid’s new memories have for why he was now wearing a shirt of his sister’s favorite band? balıkesir escort The only difference was that after a few seconds she had handed him the bag with the poster in it. I guess it was his now? Okay, so it had worked at least. I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding.

It seemed however, that swapping their tastes around had done nothing to resolve their little argument. In fact, the kid seemed a great deal less happy now. Still, the argument continued. I guess now he was going on about how his pop music was better than her metal? Typical.

Okay, so that hadn’t worked. What else could I do to fix this?

Honestly, I didn’t really think it would matter what I did, the topic of the argument was probably immaterial. He was just one of those big brothers who liked to make his sister feel like shit because it made him feel like a big man. She was probably going to take everything way too seriously and wind up crying herself to sleep that night and grow up with low self esteem because she got told how crap she was at everything all the time by one of the few people she actually looked up to and cared about.

I took a deep breath. Maybe I was projecting just a bit. But still, the problem seemed ingrained into their very roles.

Maybe I could swap their ages around? If he was acting like a little brat I sure as hell could make him one. But, no, they wouldn’t even realize anything was different, would they? And it would be like having the girl give up a chunk of her childhood just so her asshole brother could have it. Uhg, no thanks.

No, this called for something a little more complex, something a little more subtle.

I think that while I had sort of begun to realize that the device could basically do anything I wanted it to, I was still having trouble taking that and really thinking outside the box with it. I must have sat there fiddling with the controls for a good few minutes before it hit me. If it was subtle I needed, it was subtle I could do.

I smiled. If this worked the way I expected… oh man, it opened up a whole other world of possibility. Besides, if it didn’t, then at least I’d have found the devices limits. That was good too, right?

“Alright punk,” I said mostly to myself as I raised my finger to the button, “let’s see how you like it for a change.”

With a louder than normal zzzzttttt, the device was suddenly painfully hot in my hand. I winced in surprise, but managed to avoid dropping it. I plopped it down quickly into my bag as I shook out my hand.

Fuck, I hadn’t broken it had I? This had happened before, but it hadn’t been that bad. It had been working fine just a little while ago. Why was it so hot now?

Luckily my hand didn’t seem too badly burned and the thing didn’t appear to be on fire or melting or anything. I certainly didn’t smell any smoke. Still, if it was damaged internally I would have no way of knowing, and if it was malfunctioning, well… I think this was pretty much the last thing in the world I’d want getting buggy.

I looked around to see if anything weird had happened, but everything seemed normal. I just prayed that everything seeming normal was not part of the weird stuff going on. For all I knew, this thing could… I don’t know… make it so everyone went around naked all the time or something and I wouldn’t even notice. Or, I guess, it could make it so that everyone walks around with clothes all the time, but in this scenario the naked thing is the original normal. Gah.

Completely oblivious to how close everyone could have just been to a total reality shift, everyone continued to walk around on their hands, legs dangling in the air like nothing had happened. Off in the distance I could see a toddler scolding her parents for something and a dog taking her owner for a walk.

Whoa, hey, relax, I’m joking. None of that last bit happened. Everything really was normal, near as I could tell.

The brother and sister seemed… well, it had worked, I guessed. The girl had reached down and taken the boy-band poster away from her brother and was now teasing him with it by holding it just out his reach, a familiar reversal from before I had swapped their heights around. To my delight, the older boy now seemed completely defanged against the stronger force of his younger sister’s will. He was still angry, of course, and was stomping his foot in frustration, but it was an impotent rage. His harsh words replaced by a meek resignation regarding his inability to get his stuff back or, really, to have any meaningful defense against his sister’s assaults. I imagined this sort of thing happened all the time now. I could even see tears starting to well up in his eyes. I silently hoped I hadn’t overdone it.

“Okay,” said Evan, snapping me back to reality. “What are you up to?”

“Um.” I looked down at the device in my bag. He must have noticed me fumbling the thing around. I guess I was hardly being subtle with it. I’m just glad the thing was relatively unassuming. trabzon escort People not noticing their swaps was one thing, but when you waved a weird device around, well, that can be a little suspicious. Always swap your victims from a safe, unseen location. If I ever wrote a book about this, that would be rule number one. I would come to learn that lesson the hard way. I’m just glad it wasn’t shaped like a remote control or a gun or something else that people would instinctively notice if you started pointing it at them.

“Oh, um.” I faltered a little. Shit. I had just broken my promise to myself, hadn’t I? “That brat over there had been teasing his sister and it was really pissing me off, so I uh,” I smiled nervously, “I swapped them around a little bit. I think. It’s kind of complicated.”

“Who?” he said, looking over. “That girl over there?”

“Yeah.” I smiled.

“It looks like she’s still teasing her little sister.”

“What? No, no,” I said, following his gaze “that’s the sight of justice.” I was half-heartedly trying to re-affirm my logic that this had been a good idea. “It was the other way around before.”

“Like, you swapped their ages around?”

“I had thought about doing that, but no. Close though. I turned the younger sister into the older brother.”

He tilted his head a little, eyes still glued to the pair. “Like, you swapped them around completely?”

“What? No. I swapped which one was the brother. Like, just their roles.”

His eyes widened slightly as he raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know it could do that.”

“Me neither. Well, I suspected. I wasn’t really sure until I tried.”

“So, wait.” Evan squinted slightly. “Sorry. I’m having a hard time taking this one in for some reason. You’re saying…That that girl’s little sister, the one that she’s playing keep away with –“

“Is actually her older brother, yes, and he still has the body, mind and (presumably) the life of a teenage boy who is older than his female sibling, despite now being his younger female sibling’s younger sister.”

“Right.” He said, nodding slightly. “Okay, that’s what I thought.”

There was a pause as Evan continued to nod, processing this information.

“And you’re saying that was something you did with the device?”

“Oh my god.” I put my palm up to my face. “Yes!”

Evan continued to eyeball the two.

“I guess…” he finally said, with a shrug that sent his tits bouncing, “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it?”

I let out an sigh.

“Okay,” I said “you not knowing about the swaps I made to you is one thing, but how am I supposed to talk to you about this stuff if you don’t even believe that I’m doing it? You’ve seen the thing for yourself. You know what it can do.”

He looked down, a little embarrassed.

“I guess it’s just a little hard to internalize. Like, logically, I know what you’re saying, but it’s like you’re telling me that you made the sky blue. I mean, it’s a big deal yes, but it’s something I’m going to have a hard time reacting appropriately to, you know? It’s like, you’re talking about him being older and male as though that excludes him from being her little sister, but I mean, come on, look at them.”

“Evan, by definition you cannot be older and male and still be the little sister.”

“Well, yeah, semantically, sure, but there he is, plain as day.”

I sighed. How far did the obliviousness go? Did him being unaware of the changes go so far as to actively keep him from being made aware of them? Or was he just being thick? Dear lord, I loved him, but he could be a little thick sometimes.”

“Okay.” I sighed. “we’re not getting anywhere with this. New rule: no using the device unless we’re both aware of the change. That way we this sort of thing doesn’t happen again.

“I thought you didn’t want it getting used at all?”

“I don’t! But like, when I do, I’m not allowed to use it unless we’re both touching it, okay? If you see me taking it out, I want you to call me out on it. We can be in this together or not at all.”

“Baby,” he said, smiling “you’re a good person. You don’t need my permission to use that thing. I trust you to not make any rash decisions when it comes to — “

“No, Evan, stop. I appreciate what you’re saying and I am glad that you trust me, but I don’t trust myself anymore. I feel like I’ve been making rash actions all day and I clearly don’t have the willpower I need to be a moral agent about this.”

“See, I don’t believe that. Sure, things don’t always work out the way you had intended, but you always mean well. You just need to believe in yourself.”

“That’s the problem!” I cried, “I do believe in myself. I believe in myself being entirely unable to resist the urge to turn you into some kind of sex toy the next time the opportunity comes up.”

A seductive smile broke over Evan’s stupid sexy lips. “If you want me to be your sex toy, baby…”

“Uhg, that’s the problem,” I said, biting my lip, “God, I really do. Look, Evan, this is important to me, okay? I need you to promise that you’re going to keep me in line and that you’re going to be here with me throughout all the strangeness. Its… its bad enough that I keep changing you,” I could feel myself choking up a bit “I’m worried that I… that I’m changing too. And I need you to help keep me grounded.”

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