Confessions by IronicallyTall

I was livid. I knew accidents happened once in a while, but that was no accident. I felt like I was maybe just pissed about the injustice of it all but I realized it went deeper. Here I was fussing over every dark thought, every fantasy I’ve been ashamed of and this tiny fucking lawyer kills someone for basically no reason at all. Then she gets away with it, she gets to just have that. All the effort, all the repression. The self-hatred and paranoia. Then someone splatters a freshman, and it’s OK because she’s also small. Bullshit.

“Hey… I can drop the whole drinks thing,” Amy said, her voice carried through the gap in the neckline of my shirt. I realized I was driving back to my dorm on autopilot while I was seething.

“Yeah. Drinks. No, it’s OK, I’m just upset about Rebecca, I guess. Becka.”

“I’m still upset, too. But that’s just the way it goes, you know? I like to think of it like a happy story for the most part. Sorta.”

We pulled into the dormitory parking lot. There were a few gatherings in the courtyard, students enjoying some of the fresh air with pizza and music. I turned the car off, and we settled down to a gentle stillness. I was suddenly acutely aware that my heart was beating rather quickly.

“Yeah, I get it.” It was easier to lie to people who weren’t listening to your chest.

“Hey, we don’t have to… Do anything. If you don’t want to.”

I let out a hollow laugh and smiled. I was worried over a million things, but at the end of the day, I wasn’t going to be squished by anyone. Amy was and had almost been not long ago. Yet, she was cool as can be. Or at least she seemed it. I wished I could press my head to her chest the way she could for mine.

“I want to. I want to know why… why it’s a happy story. You said you wanted to know me, and I’m getting there, but I want to know you, too.” I was starting to relax.

“It’s like the poem we read. For class today.”

I thought of the poem, especially of the snippet she had used to pass me the note. The poem about tinies and bugs. Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly by some tiny rights activist - I had forgotten their name.

“Yeah, I remember. Wasn’t that a sad poem? Tinies getting squished like bugs?”

“What? No! It’s basically a love poem.”

“The author was in love with… getting squished?”

“I mean, yeah. Sorta. You don’t write imagery like that if you’re afraid to be smushed. We know what that looks like. To be honest, you don’t write at all if that’s your worry. No, it’s a love poem.”

“That… doesn’t really make sense to me. You’ll have to explain it sometime.”

“That’s why I wrote my note on the back of it,” Amy started to laugh, “But I didn’t know how dense you would be at the time.”

“I had thought at the time you somehow knew I’d been thinking of you… Like that.”

“Lucky guess.” Her voice faltered just a little.

“Wait. You did know, didn’t you? Not about me but…” It dawned on me that Amy had been fantasizing about me. She had passed me a love note, a love of being squished note. She’d been fantasizing just like me. “For how long?” I asked.

“Remember the first day of class?”

“Yeah, I think I was sitting up front that day because I was a little late.”

“Yeah. You were near the tiny section. You had something. Candy, I don’t know.” I could tell she was smiling broadly, and she chuckled a bit to relieve her embarrassment.

“Ha! Fun dip. Yeah. With the powder. That’s all it took, huh? Sucking on a sugar stick?”

“Mmhm”

“Wow you were thinking about me licking candy powder off your tits before I even noticed you.” I laughed.

“Y- yeah.”

“No, I mean, not like that. I just.” I stammered to apologize, but Amy had started laughing in response.

“It’s really OK. I kinda like that. It makes me feel less weird.”

Amy was full of surprises. It was so strange to me that she could think of herself as the weird one in this relationship. She was the one who watched her friend die, and I was the one thinking about getting off to it. I was the one who was already fetishizing the story she told me in confidence about her friend. I didn’t like those thoughts. I didn’t want to be horny or pissed off about it.

“I’m having these… thoughts. Messed up ones. I want to understand how to look at it differently. I’m not saying I’ve agreed to… you know. But I am saying I want to know more. If you’ll tell me more about it.”

“I’d love to. You still owe me your story first, though.”

I had forgotten. Why did I make that deal? Amy’s story was tragic but nothing like what I was going to share. I wasn’t sure what she was going to share, but I guess I had assumed it would be as twisted as how I imagine things. It’s one thing to bond over trauma, but another thing entirely to admit you get off to that sort of thing. How could I look her in the eye and tell her the terror she’s experienced is what I love most about my fantasies?

“I’m not sure… I don’t want to scare you.”

The interior of the car was uncomfortably silent as Amy chose her next words. She was thinking for what seemed like a long time, and I tried to lower my heart rate. The sound of the music outside was just barely audible. The people out there looked like they were having a lot of fun partying and playing frisbee. I imagined what it would be like to see one of them die. To see them playing and having fun and then something unknowable descends to accidentally obliterate one of them. Someone laughing and smiling, maybe having some questionable drinks. Maybe someone drawing cute little dragons in a notebook. Then they’re dead. Splat. That’s what Amy doesn’t get. I wouldn’t be telling that story as a happy one, I’d be savoring it. I’d be playing back Becka’s last moments over and over again in my head and wishing for more. I wasn’t pissed off at Kacy, I was jealous. Jealous of Kacy for getting away with turning someone into paste. Jealous of Amy for getting to watch. I was sick.

“I won’t pressure you to share. But I want you to understand two things. First, I want to get to know you. I’m willing to wait to really understand, but I want to know how I can get there. If we’re going to make this a thing.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure what ‘thing’ she was getting at necessarily, but I wanted it too. Whatever it was, I wanted to have that with her. I had assumed she’d be scared off by now and I’d be alone again. I had gotten used to that, but now I wanted to get used to her. I wanted to make something happen and enjoy it while I could. This was more fun than pretending. This was a real woman that fit in the palm of my hand. I didn’t want to let her go.

“The second thing is that I really do want you to scare me sometimes. I know that’s kinda weird or whatever, but that’s part of why this is hot for me. I want you to want to scare me. You know?”

I let her words sink in for a moment. She seemed genuine enough, and I already saw how desperately horny she got for my earlier torment. What was the harm in it? If we both wanted it, and we both agreed, it seemed fine enough. I could feel it was a lie. Something the monster wanted me to think so I could get closer to Amy. It was obviously dangerous and unsafe for both of us. She was risking more than me, but I needed protection.

“I need guard rails.” I blurted.

“... what do you mean?”

“I think if we make this a thing, and I’m not saying what sort of thing, but if we do, I want to have rules. For both of us. Like the ‘red’ and ‘yellow’. Maybe some more rules.”

“OK, I think that makes sense. Do you think one of the rules can be that you have to tell me what you’re thinking?”

“Yeah. That can be a rule. But I reserve the right to say ‘red’.”

“That’s fair. Oh! Oh! Can we have a contract like in 50 Shades?” She was kicking with excitement.

“Ugh. I hate that movie. Yeah, I guess we can. It would actually be helpful to have everything written down. But our rules will be better.”

“What sort of other rules-?” Amy was abruptly cut off by the sound of my stomach gurgling. A low and deep rumble. I was hungry. Amy tightened up into a knot.

“We can talk about those later. I need to get inside and have this salad, or you’re going on the menu after all.”

I had meant it to be a fun joke, just playful. I was starting to get used to the whole teasing thing, and Amy was easy to tease. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her enjoying everything so much. That just didn’t come up in my fantasies. However, flustering her was something special. It was real. I could make her squirm, and I didn’t even need to say anything, just feel a little hungry and torture her automatically with my body. It was intoxicating.

Amy didn’t speak. She made an almost-sound from under the collar of my shirt. Like a hum or a mumble of agreement but higher in pitch, tinged with fear. And more. I could feel her tight muscles writhe a little against my chest. Maybe I couldn’t hear her heartbeat, but she was rather expressive. I decided to push it a little further. She wanted to be a little scared, after all.

“The salad should be enough. How many calories do you think you’d even have anyway?” I asked idly as I watched some guy throw a frisbee to his friend in the quad. I heard Amy make another little noise. Not quite a moan or a squeak. Her ragged breathing was audible. I smiled.

“What’s the matter? We were already talking about you getting into my guts.” I punctuated the last word by patting myself on the abdomen. “Do you think anyone would notice? If you never left my dorm?”

Amy writhed and moaned, unable to reply.

“No tinies allowed in the dorms, so I’ll need to smuggle you,” I sighed. “They’re probably worried some people are kidnapping cute girls and doing terrible things to them.”

“I’ve- I’ve heard about- about… people like that.” Amy stammered.

“Oh? What have you heard?” I was about to lay into her a little more, but my stomach stepped in instead. Another low growl under my hand. I made small circles with my fingers over my shirt and felt the vibrations. Amy shuddered in turn, like she was trying to match the rhythm of my tummy. She rocked and squealed like she was riding a mechanical bull. She let out a little moan as my body died down. Things were going to get awkward if we stayed in the parking lot any longer.

“Be quiet unless you want to know what it sounds like from the inside.” I wasn’t sure what I had said as the words left my lips. I felt hot. Was that me? Or the monster? I was still just joking, wasn’t I?

I didn’t wait for Amy to respond. She was beside herself, writhing and huffing. I grabbed the takeout bag, left the car, and walked towards the eight-story building. It was pretty common for students to enjoy the quad at night. It was also common to have visitors until around ten, when any non-residents needed to leave. A dozen people were outside on the benches, sharing a few pizza boxes. They had a portable speaker and seemed to be playing some kind of multiplayer phone game together. I didn’t know anyone too well, but someone stood out as I walked by. My roommate, Stella. She caught my gaze and rose to greet me.

“Heyyyyy.” She said, fairly obviously drunk. She leaned in for a hug, and I tried to angle my torso so that Amy wasn’t squished too badly. The little lady was good and remained still.

“Hey. You having fun?” I said, smiling, pushing her away gently. She smelled like booze.

“Star... something. I dunno.” She gestured to her phone, still running the game.

“Well, I’m gonna head in. I need to watch something for class.” I lied.

“Awwww I thought you were, like, fucking… or something.”

“No. Just-”

“You can tell me, ya know? Like…” Stella gestured vigorously with her hands and hips, thrusting her hips comically as she bit her lip.

“Yeah, no. I would tell you.” I lied again.

“You need some action, girl. If I didn’t have a good fuck for that long I’d be tearing people apart! I don’t know how you’re so calm!” She laughed.

“Yeah, me neither.” I smiled, trying to just let her do what she needed to do. I didn’t want to start a drunk argument in front of everyone.

“I’d help you out, but, ya know,” she leaned in close to whisper, “But I don’t swing that wayyyyyy,” She backed up and shouted, “Sorry babe!” She ended the performance with a wink and a sloppy laugh.

“Yeah, I know. It’s okay.” I wasn’t interested in Stella. At all. This was one of the reasons.

“Stella!” Some frat guy called her from the table, “You’re killing us here!”

“Sorry! Ok!” She held up her phone, which was flashing red sci-fi graphics.

“I’ll leave you to it. Thanks for giving me the room.” I strained a smile.

“Anytime. Really. Anyyyyy. Time. I’ll be staying with Reed tonight if you wanna get busyyyyy.” She gestured again with her hips, gyrating and walking, before returning to the table. Everyone started shouting orders as she sat down; it seemed like Stella was an engineer on their starship and needed to redirect power. I was thankful I didn’t need to worry about Stella’s usual relationship scrutiny. Everyone on campus was a potential drama source for her, and she created her own during droughts.

I walked towards the entrance, checking for Amy in my bra as I walked. She had slipped a little during the hug and was hanging from the center. Thankfully, she’d been wedged between me and the underwire. It was a little uncomfortable but probably worse for her. She was still squirming. I made it seem like I was adjusting my bra and shifted her a little.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” I whispered.

We made it inside with a swipe of my ID, and I walked past the first-floor RA. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. It was so simple. There’s usually a rush to doing something wrong, but smuggling Amy felt especially fun. Nobody knew I had a cute little girl dangling by my bra, clinging to me for dear life lest she fall out and I step on her. It was easy to smuggle her, but it was just as easy for something to go wrong. That’s why they don’t let tinies in the dorms. 

Imagine if someone like Amy was walking around underfoot or stuck in the elevator. Imagine what someone like me would do if they found her there. My mind flicked to Kacy. Every day I have to stop myself from splattering someone, and she just… My mind wandered to Rebecca. Someone full of fantasy ideas and dreams turned into a puddle. The monster didn’t care, but I hated how much I liked it. I was glad that she couldn’t ask me what I was thinking.

We made it to my dorm, I breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed shut behind me. Behind us. We were alone at last. I kicked off my shoes, pulled my phone out, and tossed it onto the bed with the takeout bag. I tenderly cupped my fingers under my shirt and carefully spread the underwire to grab Amy. She cooperated and was out of breath when I finally slipped her out. Her hair was messed up, and her dress was creased in weird spots. I laughed a little as I held her between my fingers.

“Sorry, you… You just look cute.” It was a little harder to mess with her while I looked her in the eyes.

“It’s alright. Stella seems nice.” She smiled through messy curls.

“Yeah, she’s a real riot.” I rolled my eyes as I placed her on my nightstand. Amy straightened herself out a little and started to fix her hair.

“Your room is huge! I always forget how big the giant dorms are.” Amy took a look around, jaw wide. I followed her gaze around to the 200 square feet of our shared living area.

“It’s not much, but it’s been home. I need to use the restroom. You hang tight.” 

I walked to the restroom and closed the door. Our little dorm had a sink and toilet, but you had to use the communal shower area down the hall to wash. I looked at myself in the mirror. When I left my dorm this morning, I wasn’t expecting to bring someone home. I felt ugly, sweaty, and even more aware of my flaws, knowing Amy was up close and personal to everything. I took some deep breaths while I relieved myself. I didn’t want Amy to be more suave about this than I was. It felt like we were moving a little too fast. I was just horny and fantasizing this morning, daydreaming as I usually do. Now, I was agreeing to torture the girl in my daydreams. It was surreal.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. The monster was making my heart race. Amy was trapped with me. Her curfew system, did it log my number? Would they know it was me if she disappeared? I whispered to myself. I stared into my eyes to talk to the monster directly.

“We’re going to have a movie night. Nothing happens until we agree.” I wasn’t convincing or convinced. I wasn’t sure how much sway rules could have over the monster when things came down to it. I needed to stay in control until things were set in stone. I washed my hands, splashed some water on my face, and returned to Amy.

She was standing next to my retainer. The case was open, I had forgotten to close it this morning. I always took it out right after sleep, and I was usually pretty groggy. The clear plastic form of my upper teeth was lying in a mostly-dried puddle of my spit. Small puddles and saliva residue clung to the divets at the bottom of the teeth. I realized that Amy was staring, entranced. Was she thinking about my jaws? My saliva? I crept up to her, my socks softened my footfalls as I approached the other end of the dorm. She hadn’t noticed I flushed.

Amy placed one hand on the edge of the retainer case. She was breathing heavily. She tensed and whipped around, her face beet red and mouth open.

“Like what you see?” It felt as if I had caught her snooping in my underwear drawer. Except it was cute. Innocent, almost. It was strange to re-contextualize different parts of my body as sexual. I knew for her, the retainer was like some kind of alluring relic, but for me, it was a gross reminder of a rushed morning.

“I’m… I’m sorry. It’s… I promise I’m not a pervert, OK?”

“Oh? That might be a deal breaker for me.” I crawled onto my bed with a grin, belly-first. I grabbed my pillow to prob myself up and face her on the nightstand. My knees bent, and I idly swayed my feet in the air as I stared at her. I dropped the cute act. I was serious, and I wanted her to know it was OK to get a little strange. I needed her to be OK with it before I was. “I think it’s kinda fun to have someone drool over… my drool.”

“It’s just… fuck. I’m sorry. Really, I don’t want to invade your privacy.” Amy looked dejected. Her authentic embarrassment was endearing.

“Why spit? Is it just the whole… eating thing?” I cocked my head.

“No, it’s just. Embarrassing, I guess. It’s because it’s gross. I guess I like it because of how wrong it is. It’s objectifying.” Amy cast a furtive look over her shoulder at the tray.

I wanted to gently tap her when she turned around and push her in. I wanted to close the lid and shake it around, coating her in day-old spit and hearing her scream. Would she scream? Or would she moan? She was staring at me, I knew what she was going to ask.

“Amy… We’re moving really fast. I so badly want to milk your embarrassment a little more because it’s adorable. I want to let you play in my spit because I think it would look good on you. But we need to lay down the rules.”

“Rules. Yeah.” She was wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry I teased you so hard. You make me really carried away.”

“Technically, you’re the one who carried me away.” She laughed. Amy had her confidence back in a flash.

“Talk like that needs to be in the rules. I need to know what’s OK with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I like it when you’re smart with me, but it makes me want to hurt you. It’s cute, but it’s also… an invitation? I guess?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“When you said that. Correcting me. How did you think I would respond?” I raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t angry, but my tone was serious enough.

Amy was red again. She thought for a moment and went to respond, but her mouth puckered up into a grimace instead.

“Ok,” I offered. “How would you have liked me to respond?”

“More teasing. I guess. More, uh, threats.”

“Good. How did it make you feel when I threatened to eat you earlier?”

“Really, uh. Good. Tess, nobody’s ever really gotten it before.” Amy was shaking.

“It?”

“The whole… Everything. Me. It.” She gestured broadly.

“I’m not sure I do yet, but I want to.”

“If this is you not getting it…” Amy laughed. Her smile was bright and wild. It was pure and breathtaking, like a scenic overlook.

“Let me get some paper…”

I flipped over and rummaged through my desk, which was jammed against the foot of my bed. I had something of a system, but things weren’t exactly tidy. I opened a drawer, scanning things upside-down as I hung lopsided over the top of the desk. I saw a stack of papers I had recently printed for notes and found it. My hard copy of Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly. I realized it was anonymous; I had forgotten that in all the reading. Mixed-Size Studies had a lot of readings.

I grabbed a mechanical pencil and a composition notebook before I flipped back over. I accidentally knocked Amy on her butt in the process as I rattled the furniture. My eyes went wide for a second before I realized she was fine.

“Sorry!” I blurted.

“I’m good! It’ll take more than that to kill me off.” She grinned.

“You’re not allowed to die. In fact, I’m putting that in the contract.”

I slid close to Amy, sitting up on the bed near the nightstand. Held up the poem, a handful of lines printed on a single sheet of paper.

“I think this is perfect. Maybe you can teach me more about it as we go along, and we can always add onto the contract as we go.” I smiled. I was eager.

“Do we have to have a rule… For me not to…”

“Yes. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Oh. Ok.” 

“Look. We can have it be for… Let’s say a month. Then, we revisit it. Think of this like any other contract. I don’t want to go too fast; that’s the point. No getting eaten clause.”

“OK. That’s probably for the best.” I could tell she was a little disappointed. I didn’t know what to tell her. I wasn’t going to help someone sign their life away. We had just met! I swallowed hard, trying not to think about what it would mean when I didn’t have that excuse. Amy seemed to be wondering the same thing.

“We’ll start with the no dying rule.” I went to write it down but stopped. “What should we call this...?”

“You mean… Us?”

“Yeah. I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about it. I hate the word ‘girlfriend’.”

“I’m glad you said it. I do, too.” Amy shrugged. “I kinda felt like we were just having fun, I wasn’t really sure it would turn into a thing. Not that I don’t want it to! I just thought it was playing.”

“Well, I do want to keep playing with you.” I slid the eraser along my lower lip as I looked at her in contemplation. I didn’t realize I was teasing her until she turned red. The erasure had slipped inside and received a few idle nibbles. “Sorry, I tend to… chew on things while… I play with them.” The words were already out, having meant no sultry business. As the sentence formed in my head, it was already too late.

“Pl- Play.” Amy barely managed to say. Her eyes were following the eraser.

“I’ll play with you when we’ve signed this, alright?”

Amy merely nodded. I was enjoying having her caught in a trance. I slid the eraser in and out of my mouth, playfully nibbling here and there. I watched her gasp when I lapped at it with the tip of my tongue.

“Pay attention, plaything. I need your head clear if you’re going to sign your life away.” I withdrew the eraser and poked her in the chest. She made a cute little squeak, and her dress had a circular wet spot right across her chest.

“I’m trying. Sorry. You’re just… fuck. Me.”

“Wait. That’s it. Play… thing. Plaything. I think that suits you. What do you think?”

Amy nodded vigorously, her face beaming. I saw a tear stream down her face, but her smile reassured me. She was tremendously happy.

“Good,” I continued, “and if you’re my plaything, that makes me your owner, correct?”

Amy nodded again, this time her whole body down to her atoms seemed to vibrate with ‘YES’.

“I need a verbal confirmation. Do I have your consent to…” My voice faltered. This was too perfect. This gorgeous little thing was signing herself away to me. The monster was mad with lust, demanding I snatch her immediately. Violate her. Tear her to pieces. “Do I have your consent to be my property, my plaything?”

“Y- Y- Yes.” More ecstatic nodding.

“Good. I consent to be your owner… and to- to look after you.” I was getting hot. I needed to finish this contract so I could have my prize.

I tried to focus on the paper, but the room was sliding around a little. I wrote along the top, outlining some legal jargon I made up in the moment. It seemed official enough, I applied some of the knowledge I had from my constitutional law class.

“That’s a good start. Now I think rule one is that my plaything doesn’t get to die. That would be terribly unfair to me.” My hand was shaking, but I managed to add the rule.

“I want… I want… To- “ Amy was hyperventilating.

“Hold on a sec. Take some breaths.” I reassured her.

I placed the pencil down on the composition book and set them to the side on my bed. I got up and went to the sink. I took a moment to not be in front of her for a bit, and I wanted to give her some time away from me. It was probably not right to hash things out in such a state. I splashed some water on my face and returned with a mug filled with water.

“Sorry, we need to take a breather.” I placed the mug on the nightstand and realized I had severely underplanned having a tiny lady in my dorm. I had no way to give her any water. I looked around for some kind of small receptacle, but Amy was already climbing over the top of the mug, using the handle like a tree branch. She hung halfway inside, hanging by her belly on the rim as her little boots kicked around. She reached in and started to drink with her hands. It wasn't the most elegant solution, and it wasn’t helping my dark thoughts. What if I just tipped her inside? How long could she tread water? It was too slippery along the inside, too steep. How pathetic would it be to die in someone’s mug?

I stood and took some deep breaths. I looked towards Stella’s side of the room and imagined her asking me a dozen questions. How do tinies even have sex? Do you just shove her inside? How do you fuck her without killing her? The monster hated her inane questions. The monster hated to answer to anyone. Some of the fog cleared, and Amy was perched on the top of the mug. It was adorable, if a little precarious.

“Sorry, this is really difficult,” I said.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. A little help?”

“Sure.”

I gingerly pinched her, which only made her smile. I placed her back on the nightstand and picked up the notebook again. I adjusted the document, reading down to the first rule.

“Ok. You were trying to say you wanted something? No more teasing. I want this to be something we’re both on board with. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, I know I can be a lot.” Amy took a deep breath. “I want to know what you’re thinking. When you’re thinking it.”

“Alright, but I want to be able to use ‘red’. I think I’ll just add that part at the end. Is that OK with you?”

“Of course.”

“No. Not of course. I need you to really think about it. I need us to both be one hundred percent. No room for assumptions.”

“Ok. Ok. I accept. I won’t push you to share. But I want it in there.”

“Good,” I added the second rule, scrawling away some of my security. The monster wasn’t happy.

“What’s next?”

“I guess I need to know how to… dehumanize you?”

“Oh. Yeah. I think… I don’t know.” Amy hugged herself and buried her head in her arms. She was making it incredibly difficult to focus. She was intoxicating.

“How about we leave it open a little? Like I get to choose how?” 

Amy nodded, keeping her head buried in her arms. I could barely make out a little moan of affirmation, but it wasn’t loud enough to break through her arms.

“I need a verbal confirmation, Amy. You’re not my plaything until you sign.”

“Yes. Yes. Please, yes.”

“Ok. So when the plaything mouths off, I get to choose the punishment.” I summarized the rule as I wrote it down. “There. Three rules so far. Can you think of anything else?”

Amy sat down and hugged herself. She was still smiling, but her face and ears were bright red. She looked up at me with a few more tears. Good tears, it seemed. I could get used to seeing her cry.

“I think I’ll leave some room for more rules and wrap it up.” I offered.

Amy merely nodded, a little ball of excitement and embarrassment. She was rocking back and forth a little on her butt, giggling a little to herself. I added a catch-all clause at the bottom, including a rule about the color system. I also added a mutual termination clause to give both of us the ability to dissolve the contract at any time. It wasn’t going to protect me if anything happened, but it was good enough for now. I just needed it to protect me from myself. The monster was irrational but seemed at least to respect hard lines once drawn.

I held up the document and inspected it for flaws. It was pretty good for something written in pencil on the back of scrap paper. It felt a little childish, but in an endearing way. It was ours, and it was on the back of a fun poem about squishing tinies like bugs. Or maybe the poem was on the back of our contract. I turned it over and held it up to Amy.

“Read it to me.”

Amy cleared her eyes and paused her joyful vibrating. She stood, and with a shaky voice and delirious smile, she recited the contract. Her words came out in gasps, and she needed to stop a few times to catch her breath. She was a trooper and finished reciting the whole document, standing proudly on my nightstand. It felt good hearing it from her lips. It was extra special to hear her refer to me as “the owner” and to herself in the third person as “the plaything”. It felt like we had weaved a spell, and it was ready to be sealed.

“Now we just need to sign it.”

I added two horizontal lines at the bottom and labeled the one on the left with ‘The Owner’. Then, I labeled the one on the right with ‘the plaything’. I had forgotten to use capital letters in the second one, but I decided I liked it better that way. A smaller title for the smaller woman. I signed my name with my practiced flourish, half-completing the agreement.

“It’s your turn. But I need to know you’re ready.”

“Yes. I am, I promise.”

“Ok. You understand you can end this at any time, right? Say ‘red’ at any time, or end the whole thing if you wanted.”

“Yes. I understand.” Her voice was sure but a little weak.

I lengthened the mechanical pencil and snapped off a small piece of graphite. Barely the length of my fingernail. I balanced it on the pad of my finger and presented it to Amy. We were both shaking a little, but my vibrations were more noticeable. Amy lifted the graphite chunk, around the size of her forearm. I placed the corner of the paper on the nightstand and shuffled it closer as she stepped back. I stopped when her signature section was completely on the nightstand, and she stepped onto the page. She knelt down to begin. I held the rest of the paper aloft.

“Remember, when you sign this, you belong to me.” My voice was somber and even.

“I understand.” Amy looked up from her kneeling position and smiled. It was almost too much, seeing her kneeling and smiling and signing herself over to me.

She carefully signed her name, clearly making an effort to draw it larger but still falling short of a normal signature. It was still really pretty, and it made my signature seem rather brutish in comparison. She stood and wiped a few more tears. Satisfied, she nodded and stood before she stepped off of the corner of the paper.

I held the paper in front of me, holding it over Amy and blocking her from my view. I smiled, knowing the poem about being splattered like a bug was hovering above her. The contract was complete. She was mine. She had given herself willingly. I had my very own plaything. I could do whatever I wanted to her. Amy was hyperventilating again; I could hear her under the paper. That didn’t matter anymore, there was nothing she could do.

“I think I want to watch Curse Night Two with my new plaything while I eat.”