We remained entwined for some time, his breathing gradually steadying, body occasionally twitching with aftershocks. He was utterly exhausted, physically and emotionally drained from the intensity of his multiple orgasms and the psychological barriers we'd broken through.
"I didn't know," he whispered finally, hoarse. "I never knew it could be like that."
"This is only the beginning," I promised, kissing his forehead. "There's so much more to show you."
It was evident he wouldn't be able to walk unassisted. I lifted him easily, cradling him against my chest as I carried him toward the guest room.
In the guest room, I cleaned him gently with a warm cloth before helping him into bed.
"My moth," he murmured sleepily.
I retrieved the forgotten toy and placed it in his arms. He hugged it to his chest, reactivating its gentle glow.
"Sleep now," I murmured, tucking the covers around him. "Your body needs rest after what it's experienced."
He was asleep almost before I finished speaking, exhaustion claiming him completely. In sleep, his face looked younger, the lines of worry and shame that usually creased his forehead smoothed away. The moth's soft light cast a gentle glow across his features, highlighting the curve of his lips, the dark lashes fanned over his cheeks.
I studied him for a moment, this canvas I was gradually transforming. Not through destruction, but through a different kind of art.
"Goodnight, sweet boy," I whispered, though he couldn't hear me.
As I closed the door, leaving him to dreams that would no doubt feature the pleasures we'd shared, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction at how perfectly everything was progressing. The programming was taking hold with remarkable speed. The chrysalis was cracking. What emerged would be magnificent in its transformation.
And entirely mine.
Micah
I dreamed of mymother.
Not how I'd last seen her in life. The body hanging from the ceiling fan was gone. The mottled blue-gray skin had vanished. The vacant eyes fixed on nothing had disappeared. Instead, she stood in a field of tall grass, wearing the yellow sundress from the photograph on my grandmother's mantel. She faced away, hair moving in a wind I couldn't feel.
When she turned, her features had been replaced by a smooth, blank canvas.
I woke gasping, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. The moth glowed faintly in my arms. I'd never slept with a toy before. Yet holding the plush creature against my chest felt like reclaiming something stolen from me long ago, filling a space that had been empty my entire life.
Memories of the previous night unspooled in my mind. Ezra's hands on my body. His voice in my ear, low and commanding. The pleasure that had torn through me in waves, breaking apart everything I thought I knew about myself. The way my body had opened for him, accepting sensations I'd been taught were forbidden.
A soft knock drew my attention to the doorway, where Ezra stood watching me. Already dressed in charcoal slacks and a thin cotton t-shirt in deep burgundy, he held two steaming mugs. His silver-streaked hair was combed back from his forehead, accentuating the sharp planes of his face. His expression revealed nothing, yet I felt stripped bare.
"You slept deeply," he observed. "No dreams?"
"None that I remember."
He crossed the room and handed me one of the mugs. Our fingers brushed during the exchange, and heat shot up my arm, spreading through my chest and settling low in my belly. His touch had rewired my nervous system overnight, making even the most casual contact electric.
"How do you feel this morning?" His eyes never left my face, studying me as if I were a rare specimen under glass.
The question was simple enough, but I struggled to answer. How did I feel? Raw. Open. "Different," I said finally. "Like something's changed."
"Something has," he confirmed. "You've taken the first step toward becoming."
“Becoming what?”
“That remains to be seen.” The pause stretched, but the silence didn’t feel empty. It felt…pregnant. "Come have breakfast when you're ready," he said, moving toward the door. "I've laid out fresh clothes for you in the bathroom."
After he left, I made my way to the shower, steam filling the glass enclosure as I stepped inside. Hot water sluiced overmy body, and I became acutely aware of new sensitivities. My nipples tightened under the spray, each droplet a tiny electric shock against the tender flesh. Between my legs, my ass ached pleasantly, the rim still sensitive from Ezra's attentions the night before, from the careful way his fingers had breached me for the first time.
I ran my hands down my chest, stopping to pinch my nipples, trying to recreate the sensation of Ezra's touch. It wasn't the same. My fingers lacked his certainty, his knowledge of exactly how much pressure to apply.
