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He pulls down a long drive and then into an attached garage, which provides me cover when I get out of the car.
“Where are we?” I ask the question as if I care, as if I am not brimming with erotic energy begging to be discharged.
“This is one of the homes of the future,” Order explains. “It was designed to be fully automated and even partially shielded from nuclear blasts. The concept was that a housewife would be alleviated of many of her burdens, thus creating more leisure…”
I cut him off with a kiss, which I have to give him on tip-toe because he’s so much taller than I am.
He seems surprised for a moment, and then his six hands wrap around me, claim me and make me anticipate what must be coming next.
“Come see our new home,” he says, lifting me up in his arms. I like being held close to him, grinding my mostly naked self against his firm body.
We step inside the house, through a sort of mudroom place with a very old fashioned washing machine and dryer, that looks as though it thinks it is very modern. They are proudly decked out in teal and a matching hue of pink.
The door between that room and the kitchen opens smoothly, like doors in malls do, sliding open and into the wall cavity without being specifically asked, or touched in any way.
“There are buttons and sensors for everything,” he says, sliding me down to my feet.
I take my first unassisted, unwounded step since I was shot. For months upon months, I have been dependent on a walking stick to help conduct me through the world. I don’t need the stick anymore, and I don’t feel a faint but aching pain with every step either. My body feels like it used to, and that is something I never thought I would ever experience again. I am astounded, and happy, and for some reason, a little afraid.
I stand naked in our new home. It’s already better than the vault because nobody is pupating in it. A large living room greets me, with an archway into a dining room and then an archway into a kitchen. There are two bedrooms, both of which sport double beds, so presumably this house was designed for two adult couples to occupy. Or it was staged by someone who wasn’t thinking about selling it. Who knows. It’s the least of the mysteries I currently have to contend with.
“In here,” Order beckons me into the darker of the two bedrooms. One is a bright pink that commits a full frontal assault to the eyes, the other deep forest green which is so retro it almost feels modern.
It is in the deep forest bedroom with rich wood accents that I am finally provided with attire. A silken nightgown with lace around the shoulders and bodice, to be precise, plus a towel and the direction of a shower. I take all of it, along with the unspoken hint.
I smell like a dog that spent a night in the wild. I might have changed form, but remnants of filth and entrails are still in my hair. The shower is similarly old fashioned like the rest of the house, but it is also luxuriously futuristic with three heads all pelting steaming hot water onto almost every part of my body all at once.
I can’t stop grinning as I wash myself. I’d have been grossed out before to find myself absolutely covered in guts and stuff, but embracing my animal side has made me much less precious about that kind of thing. I suddenly understand Obigor’s urge to roll in disgusting leavings. The scent I gathered during my run is very earthy and organic. Or it was. Now I smell like mandarin, bergamot, jasmine, and myrrh. Each of those scents seems very clear to me. I hope it will be pleasing to Order.
I want to talk about everything that has happened. I want to talk about how my boss is a fucking werewolf, and how he saved me by biting me. He couldn’t yank me away from the mutants. But he could change me so I’d never be accepted by them again, and there’s poetry in that. I want to talk about how Order seems to have chosen me rather than his own family. I want to understand what ultimatums were given, and whether or not he intends to return to them. I want to know what our future is going to be, if we are going to attempt to hide in plain sight, or if there are bigger plans. But most of all, I want to get laid.
I get out of the shower, dry myself, and don the clothing that I’m not entirely sure I want to wear. It’s not just retro, it’s very soft and feminine, and oh yes, I do look pretty, I discover when I look in the mirror. It’s almost strange to see my face. I wonder if something happened to it in the transformation. Is that why I look different? Oh no. It’s my expression. I’m smiling. I’mhappy.
“So,” I say when I emerge from the bathroom looking like the heroine of a ye olde romance novel. “What now? Are the mutants going to come for me? You got a problem if I want to go back to work? Because I want to go back to work. I at least want to talk to the chief.”
Order has removed his person disguise and is lying shirtless on the bed, two of his hands behind his head, his other four arms lying relaxed at his side, and all his eyes closed. Obigor is also asleep on the bed, the tip of his tongue sticking out. My two boys getting along. How perfect.
Order doesn’t open his eyes when I come in, just curls the pointer finger of his lowest right hand at me to beckon me close.
I go to him and lie down next to him, swiftly finding myself wrapped up in all his arms.
“I missed you,” he murmurs against my freshly washed hair. “I was worried you wouldn’t return to your usual self.”
“Really? You want me human? I’m so much more obedient as a wolf. And I never talk back.”
He chuckles to himself. “I don’t mind your sass. I punish it, of course, but I don’t mind it.”
“Wow, what high praise. You don’t mind one of my main character traits,” I say with cheeky sarcasm.
He taps my ass lightly. Well. Maybe not so lightly. I feel the tap, followed by a quick flourish of pain. I squirm, and he repeats the treatment again, and again, and then again. He’s spanking me just like he promised to do, and I’m pretending to be surprised just like I intended to.
“Hey! What’s this for!”
“It’s for getting yourself bitten because you disobeyed me,” he says.
I guess that’s technically fair, though that’s not what I want to be punished for. That’s way too serious a transgression. I was hoping for playful and sexy, not stern and serious and painful.
“Please! Order! I get it! I fucked up!”
