Chapter 13Be a good little girl now, darling.20 February 2022Alice stares at her for a few seconds. She goes from looking perhaps a little pleased, if confused, at first, to shily looking away from Gwen, stuck too deeply in her own embarrassment to compin about what just happened.

  Gwen feels increasingly disgusted at herself as she realises what she’s just done, a feeling of disgust only interrupted by the fact that Alice is holding on to her hand, pcing the other on Gwen’s aching chest.

  “Um.” She tries to make eye contact with her again, but falters half than a second in. “I don’t know what to do. I had hoped things would come more naturally, but—” Alice loses her train of thought, hands slipping down onto the bed, helping her keep bance.

  “And so—” Gwen responds with needless dramatic effect. “They were both bottoms.”

  “I’m not.” Alice pouts. She stims with her thumbs, pressed together.

  Gwen can’t resist going above and beyond her job description — doing very much what she’s told and being on the receiving end of things — to boop Alice on the nose and tell her, “Not sure I can believe that.”

  “Hey…” She pouts even more. “It’s true.”

  “Prove it.” Gwen says, smugly, the guilt for pressuring Alice into the situation slowly overridden by sheer excitement.

  Alice looks away from Gwen again, and seems to do anything other than prove that she is, in fact, not the submissive girl anyone can see she is. Her frustration is quite adorable, though, and Gwen wishes she could be that convincing in a role.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” Gwen notes triumphantly, offering Alice her most smug, correctable smile. “You don’t have it in you.”

  The girl across from her, seemingly as desperate as Gwen is, tries her best to disprove a w as solid as the theories of gravity, evolution, and whatever it is that geologists do by softly pinning Gwen down to the bed. Unsure what to do next, Alice awkwardly waits for what has to be a spontaneous orgasm caused by sheer sexual energy.

  “Oh.” Gwen blushes and looks upwards, trying her best to look intimidated. Alice might not be the best at the role, but Gwen appreciates the titanic effort required to make a submissive girl reject her instincts and py a role she clearly isn’t very well suited to. She’d be at least half as awkward trying to do it.

  Alice looks down at Gwen and then shakes her head, even more embarrassed than before. “Maybe, um, maybe we should undress for this bit? God. I’m sorry… I suck.”

  “You’re pretty in the maid dress, though.” Gwen whines a little, the compliment causing any dominant urge that might have been present in Alice to crumble, colpse, melt and turn into a very confused puddle.

  “A-Am I?” She asks, sounding quite desperate.

  “You’re so pretty.” Gwen nods, sitting up and holding Alice before she can colpse onto the floor from a statement that wouldn’t be too shocking if she could turn off her dysphoria and just look at herself. Gwen can’t, but Gwen also can’t do a lot of other things, and Alice seems like a more functional person than her. Not that Alice seems to be in a pce to think about that right now.

  “But…” Alice tears up a little. “All this… I’m a disgusting man…”

  “I only see a sweet, pretty, very lovely girl here.” Gwen holds Alice closer, arms locked around the girl and hands intertwined. “You really shouldn’t say such horrible things about yourself. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “They’re true, though.” Alice whispers. “I’ve barely had a week of HRT, and—”

  “I’ve had a week of HRT too. Wouldn’t that make it true of me too?” Gwen asks, knowing she’s putting Alice in a really awkward spot and hurting her just to strengthen an argument.

  “You’re not me. You’re really pretty and I’m… this.”

  “Yeah. I’m not you.” Gwen pushes through the pain of finding out how Alice probably does look at her. “I’m not as pretty as you are, and thus—”

  “No!” Alice says a little too loudly. “You’re not. Don’t think that.”

  “Why are you thinking like that, then?”

  “Because… Because… I’m very stupid, alright? I apply different, higher standards to myself than to others.” She looks miserable admitting it. “Ace Howells is a dumb girl.”

  “Alice Howells.” Gwen adds, leaning into her voice to give it a bit more authority, hoping it will make Alice stop self-harming and start enjoying herself. She then holds Alice as tightly as possible and whispers into her ear, “I’m not going to accept a nickname from a pretty dy like you tonight.”

  “Um.” Alice bites her lip, lost for words, cheeks as red as can be. “Y-Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry, um, ma’am.”

  “What’s my name?”

  Alice pauses for an embarrassingly long five seconds. “Gwen?”

  “My st name, darling.”

  “Um.”

  “My name,” She says didactically. “Is Gwen Davies.”

  “Sorry, um, Gwen… Davies.” Alice adds the st name awkwardly, and Gwen realises her trap has been fully sprung.

  “It’s Ms. Davies for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Davies.”

  “And your name is?”

  “A- A- Alice, ma’am.” Alice whispers rather pathetically.

  “Say it like you mean it.”

  “Um.” The girl, still stuck in her arms, tries to figure out how to follow this particur command.

  Gwen can feel under her arms that she is, in fact, very turned on right now, and whilst this isn’t Gwen’s favourite position to be in, making Alice happy when she needs is a reward in itself. “Your name is ‘Um?’”

  “No, it’s, um, it’s A… Alice.”

  Gwen sneaks a hand under Alice’s uniform, then under her padded bra, and pinches her nipples. Alice breathes in, her back leaning against Gwen, eyes closed. She tries to return to her senses after having them obliterated by a very mean, maniputive woman, but fails.

  “I gave you an order.” Gwen tries to bring the girl back to reality. “Say it like you mean it. Like you truly believe you are a pretty girl called Alice deserving of that name.”

  “I’m not—” She breathes in again, a pinch turning into a twist.

  “Yes you are. And even if you don’t think so — which would be very silly for you to think in the first pce — I want you to act like you are.” Gwen certainly is pretending like she has feelings for Alice, that she could be in any way dominant, so Alice pying along would be quite appreciated if she’s going to have to manipute her and force her to think correctly for once. “Tonight, you are Alice, understood?”

  Alice nods. “Y-Yes ma— Ms. Davies. I’m, um, Alice.”

  “Um, Alice?”

  “I’m A… lice.” She says, then realises it’s not good enough again. “I’m Alice. My name is Alice.”

  “And Alice is?”

  “A p-pretty girl.”

  Gwen tones the pressure down a little and gently touches the beautiful, girly parts of Alice, making her feel like the woman she is, slowly but surely pushing her closer to a happy ending.

  She holds her mouth close to Alice’s ear, whispers a few words, and then kisses her on the cheek. “I’m just happy you admit these things to yourself for once.”

  21 February 2022It’s not rare to see Amy hurriedly stepping through the building at a speed that Gwen’s only really seen from people, at least before Amy, when she was at university. People rushed between two lectures, annoyingly scheduled within fifteen minutes of each other but on different ends of campus. None of them really wanted to be seen running or jogging, so they walked quickly. Amy often walks at this pace, at least when she’s not with others, earphones in, stuck in her own head and hard to approach. Perhaps it’s because she’s busy — with her thoughts, or with her work — but usually she’s trying to look busy, as it means she won’t be bothered by Elle Lambert, Eira or a random sponsor deciding that Amy, actually, should really be tending to the wood-shed in the garden right now.

  And as usual, she’s not looking much at all, rather focused on enjoying whatever song she’s listening to, and almost walks right into Gwen, who is currently cleaning up a spot of spilled coffee in one of the hallways on the first floor.

  “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!” Amy excims, freezing for a second before turning off her music — Gwen could hear the hyperactive rhythm and shifts her bet to Amy just having that overwhelming a mind, and clearly ears immune to tinnitus — and immediately getting all fuzzed about the girl she almost ran down and checking whether she was hurt, scared, traumatised, whether all her vitals are okay or whether she needs to go to the NHS (definitely not Tavistock, though) and not considering whether she should have continued walking and turned Gwen into a cartoonish pancake on the floor. She’d be a stain like the coffee she dropped, but much more nasty and likely to hurt you in much worse ways other than scalding.

  “I’m fine.” Gwen tries to take the distraction and a half that is Amy as a good excuse to not worry about her stupid spilled afternoon drink, but notices that Amy slightly moves her out of the way, steals her mop, and deals with the issue before Gwen can say something along the lines of her deserving the suffering of cleaning up the coffee, or something along those lines.

  “How’s Alice?” She asks, eventually, once she’s sure the floor is clean.

  Gwen blushes, unsure how to answer the question. “Better, maybe?”

  “Still not leaving her room?”

  “No.” Alice has been staying to the great annoyment of Aoife, who has had a few choice words for the girl recently, ones Gwen cannot quite disagree with, given how much shit she’s given Aoife over the exact same thing earlier. Sometimes the most true things are best left unspoken, though.

  Amy frowns and nods. “I really need to talk to her. I’m such a horrible sister. I could do with spending less time pying games and more time trying to help Alice out.” She sighs. “She really chewed me out. I think she’s probably correct, but Kelynen said she wasn’t, and that, like, perhaps I’m being a little too rough on myself too, because more people at the manor is new for me too. I don’t know who to believe anymore—” She shakes her head and leans against the wall. “Sorry. A lot to drop on you.”

  “Feel free to keep piling on.” Gwen smiles, hoping it comes across as a joke rather than the truth of her just wanting to be crushed under a million pounds of whatever Amy is piling onto her right now.

  Amy looks at her for a second, considering her offer, then decides she needs to rant more than Gwen needs to not hear it. "Kelynen told me I shouldn’t talk to Alice, because she needs some time to rest and to be given a chance to approach us on her own terms, but like, I asked her a few times, just to be sure. She kept saying no, so I asked if I can do it because i'm a total dyke and really in love and I need Alice in my life, and I want to apologise and do better, and she said no, again, so I asked if it would be okay because I'm a total faggot, and she frowned at me and asked if me I'm backsliding."

  Amy rolls her eyes dismissively. "I'm not backsliding, but if I use a recimed term self-referentially, she gets all worried that I'm going to talk ‘like I used to’. But I won't. It's been three years! I don’t use those stupid fucking terms self-referentially anymore. Not seriously, at least. But I get a little stressed, and I say a word and suddenly a million arm bells go off at once, because Amy might end up being a total problematic bitch and miserable git again. Not that she thinks I am, but what if. What if I stop being the fun, silly Amy I’ve grown to enjoy being so much?

  “I love her, but she always gets so worried about me, and yes I know I’m a total weirdo for being frustrated at that but I should be on top of my shit and able to give you girls — Alice especially — the help you need and I’m just failing at that! I should be the fun big sister, but I run on auto-pilot and hurt people. And now Elle bloody Lambert is here too! I need to be all pretty and fun and flirty in the ways she prefers and I can’t just, like, smoke a kilo of weed and put one of those ‘ticket machine out of operation’ notices that never get removed at stations on my door until everything goes away, except instead of ticket machine it says like, dumb whore.”

  Amy looks at the floor, inhales deeply, then does so twice realising just how much and how quickly she’s spoken. “Sorry. I had to get all that off my chest.”

  “It’s okay.” Gwen says, following her instinct and giving the woman a hug without asking, thus proving herself to be the absolute worst yet again because she’s invading people’s spaces.

  It’s a little confusing when Amy just accepts it without question and pulls Gwen close and tight.

  “You know what?” Amy says, smirking again. “I’m going to do fuck all today. Elle can manage without us. She’s a big girl. Go find Aoife, I have a pn.”

  It’s a little surprising to see her switch back to being the old fun Amy so quickly — though Gwen has never really seen her stressed like that before, so it’s probably not super representative for how quickly her mood swings— but it’s not something anyone can compin about. She watches Amy conspiratorially run off towards one of the storerooms, whilst Gwen goes about trying to find Aoife.

  It takes her an embarrassing ten minutes in the stupidly rge building, and a pointer from Fey — who also asked her how Alice was, but in a different way, and only after Gwen blushed too heavily in response to earlier questioning about what she had for dinner st night — and drags a quite annoyed Aoife back upstairs to come across Amy in one of the hallways, carrying a few goofy looking plushies that Gwen only vaguely recognises.

  “No way!” Aoife squeaks, watching the plushies with genuine excitement that Gwen has never seen before from her. “Are those the real deal? Real fumos?”

  “Yes. I have a lot more— I even have a Cirno decafumo.” Amy says excitedly. “She’s a massive idiot.” She then adds, hushing. “You have no clue what I had to do to Elle to get her.”

  “Oh. Wow.” Aoife follows Amy, who is leading the girls into the common area.

  “I’ll show you ter. You’ll love her.”

  Gwen feels embarrassed asking this but pushes through it anyway. “What’s a fumo? Like, I know it’s one of those plushies—”

  “Touhou plushies. They’re like, super hard to get outside of Japan.” Aoife says. “This is Remilia.” She points at the blue-haired plushie in a pink dress with bat wings. “This is Reimu…” She continued on, this time pointing to a fumo with brown hair and a red bow. “And this is Marisa!” This one is wearing a maid uniform, and Gwen is not at all surprised that a maid version exists and even less so that Amy owns it.

  “Remilia is my favourite.” Amy adds. “She’s a mistress. And a vampire. And a little shit too.”

  “And locks her little sister in her basement.”

  “That’s not all that unique. Plenty of girls do that.”

  “I wish.” Gwen says, garnering an amused grin from Amy and Aoife. It’s weird to see her excited. What it took, apparently, was letting her be a total nerd.

  It’s at this point that Amy reveals that she has not just gathered a bunch of silly but rather cute looking plushies, but also gotten some dodgy-looking remote controlled cars.

  “Fumos in their natural environment,” Amy carefully sits them down in the cars, one by one. “Doing stupid shit.”

  “Fumo race.” Aoife says like she’s in genuine awe. “I want Reimu...”

  “Gwen here will have to be Marisa then.” Amy hands her a remote control. “The rules are simple. I’ve set out a little race course across the common area,” She’s moved exactly two footrests to block a possible route. “And we’re going to see who is fastest across three ps. These are like, the shittiest, cheapest cars I could find online, so we’ll figure it out as it goes. I haven’t tried to see if they work at all, not yet at least. So it should be fun. And very stupid.”

  Gwen looks at her doll in the stupid blue car and decides that she’s going to beat these two, not just because she’s competitive but also because she’s evil and wants to see them suffer for having a joke that she — a noted weeb, be it of the anime kind — is not included in.

  Amy makes sure everyone is ready, counts down to zero, and the dolls are off. As could be expected from the earlier statement that no part of this has been tested, the cars are accelerating much faster than any of them anticipated and can barely steer at all. The cars rush to the other end of the area, past the main table before ending up near the couch area, where all three cars leave the limited range of their controllers and crash against the wall. Despite the crash, the vehicles are still functional — the fumos look no less goofy for the event — and Gwen is the first one to rush forward to get back in range and continue the race.

  Aoife follows and gets very annoyed when Gwen turns and hits her car hard enough to almost push her plushie out. Then, when Amy backs up too and pushes Aoife all the way into the corner and into st pce, she finally snaps. “You bitch! I swear to god, I will…”

  “You will?” Gwen looks at Aoife rather than her car, and hits a chair for her sins. “Oh.”

  “Serves you right!”

  Amy somehow manages to make her car drift through a corner and properly take the lead.

  “How did she do that?” Aoife asks, annoyed, trying to do the same and hitting Gwen’s car.

  “I’m just that good.” Amy says smugly, almost finishing her first p whilst Gwen and Aoife still try to fight out who gets to leave the second corner.

  “She’s running away with it.” Gwen adds as if it’s any useful information. “Get out of my bloody way! You’re gonna make her win.”

  “As long as I get in second pce!” Aoife pokes Gwen with her elbow.

  Gwen watches Amy finish the first p and return to the first corner, again failing to negotiate it and ramming into the wall. Rather than letting her win, she reverses into her, almost causing Remilia to fall out of the car.

  “You can’t just do that.” Amy pouts.

  “It’s not in the rules that you can’t do that.” Gwen says smugly, now watching Aoife take the lead and following her, though she is a whole p behind.

  “I can see why Fey likes you so much.” Amy smiles, her smile turning into a grin as her car — Remilia barely hanging on in there — presses on Gwen’s car’s side and denies her a corner, again hitting the wall.

  “Oh my god. You’re such a cunt.” Gwen says, noticing the door has opened but not particurly caring who’s there, and almost hitting Eldine — bloody, as Amy called her — Lambert’s feet with her stupid car and the stupid d0ll.

  “Gwen, dear, that’s rather rude to say to Amy, is it not?” Elle says, seeming less than amused by the fact that they are currently racing plushies rather than, like, doing their work or being vaguely sexy in her direct environment.

  “Girls can be rude too. And I deserved it.” Amy puts down her controller and walks over to Elle, allowing Aoife to win by default. “I’m teaching them that right now. By putting them in a stressful and competitive environment and requiring them to keep up their feminine mannerisms and head voice. Should we train them to be proper young dies who break with the smallest set-backs, Ms. Lambert?”

  Gwen is astounded by the woman’s ability to bullshit to her boss like that. But then she remembers Fey telling her that they — the fourth years — know how to handle Elle much better than even the sponsors do, though she never expined how.

  “And there’s no way to do that without ruining the walls?” Elle asks, still a little annoyed.

  Amy stands next to her, hands behind her back, as if she’s waiting for orders, and Gwen wouldn’t be sure if she didn’t know from experience that it stretches the fabric of her uniform, push her breasts upwards and slightly forwards, and really emphasise them if one has a more ample chest, like Amy does. Because Amy is a little taller than Lambert, it would make it even harder to avoid.

  Gwen herself, the creep that she is, is struggling!

  “The cars were harder to control than expected, Ms. Lambert. I’m incredibly sorry for any damage caused.” Amy continues.

  Elle tries to avoid falling for the bait, but her eyes flicker downward, and she sighs deeply. “Feel free to continue outside if you think this is the best way to teach that. I will discuss this matter with you ter.”

  Gwen almost missed it, but Amy definitely winked at her the moment Elle gave in to her most basic chaser impulses.

  Inadorable