Chapter 7: Marcy

Tuesday, October 3, 2023

My alarm went off at 4 a.m. Robin stirred next to me but didn’t wake. My body screamed at me to go back to sleep, but I ignored it and pushed myself out of bed. My old bed. In my childhood home. I stood naked in my room, the air cool against my skin. I had forgotten how the upstairs apartment didn’t stay warm overnight as the season turned from summer to fall, and early October had seen a dramatic drop in temperature after a strangely sweltering summer. I glanced out the nearest window and noticed wisps of snow on the windshield of my truck.

I stretched, stood, stretched again, scratched my balls, and padded to my bathroom while yawning. The bathroom smelled like vanilla candles because the woman who had rented it from my parents was obsessed with the scent. According to Phoebe, she hadn’t been thrilled about being asked to leave but had been understanding, given my mom’s terminal diagnosis.

Diane, my biological mother, would be dying in the next weeks. Doctors said she could last up to six months, but anything longer than that was improbable. And though the news had literally overcome me, reality still hadn’t sunk into my soul. My mom was still here, and by all accounts, she was doing pretty well.

The shower heated up quickly, and I stepped inside to wash. Soapy water swirled at my feet, chaotic and draining, much like my life had been since that Saturday after Black Velvet. I’d read the news and passed out in the parking lot. Petra found me on the ground next to my truck. She’d panicked and called an ambulance, but I was okay. I’d woken up before they arrived, bruised, shaken, and in mild shock. They observed me, checked me over, and then let Petra drive me back to my apartment.

The next day, Sunday, was the beginning of the insanity. I asked my mothers if I could move home to help care for Diane. They said it was fine. Robin could come with me. Robin seemed relieved I wanted her along, as though she feared I might not take her.

I’d left most of my stuff back at my apartment and asked the building manager to check on my place once a week and get my mail. I called my boss at the plumbing company, who grumpily agreed to let me take a leave of absence to care for my mom until she passed. I did not, however, quit my job at Black Velvet. That was too valuable. I drove to Denver twice a week in the afternoon for rehearsals with Gina and Pryita but otherwise stayed in my hometown.

I didn’t like being home again, but what choice did I have? My mom needed me, and I wasn’t going to miss out on the last few weeks of her life.

After washing, I tweaked my nipple and earlobe to make my cock vanish. My mothers didn’t know about my penis, and I had no desire to tell them. I spent most days as a woman and the nights as a futanari. It was another thing I didn’t love about being home, but I could tolerate it.

I dressed silently and padded downstairs to the kitchen. My mom, Diane, sat at the countertop drinking a cup of tea, and she gave me a warm smile when I entered.

“Good morning, sweetie,” she said.

“Ready to go?” I asked.

“Almost.” She drained the rest of her mug and got her coat. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”

We walked together to my truck, which was already warming up.

It was still dark at 5 a.m. The roads to the cancer support center were mostly bare. My mother received daily infusions of vitamins and enzymes to help her body fight the cancer and extend her well-being as long as possible. I wasn’t sure exactly how much they cost, but I knew they were expensive and that insurance didn’t cover them.

I had asked my mom why she wasn’t planning on doing chemo and trying to give herself as much of a chance as possible to beat the cancer. Her answer was she had seen the results of her scans. The cancer wasn’t going to be beaten, and she didn’t want to die wasting away with no hair, no energy, and feeling like absolute dogshit. I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t. But every time I looked at my mom, I couldn’t help but wonder if today was her last day. I knew it wasn’t. I knew she wasn’t to that point yet, but I couldn’t erase the thought.

“Do you have to go back to Denver today for work?” my mom asked.

“Yep. Same as every Tuesday.”

“And you won’t tell me what you do?”

I gave her a look, telling her to drop it. She responded with an apologetic expression.

“I just don’t understand, Marcy. You say it’s not illegal, and it’s not dangerous. Why can’t I know? I’m interested in my daughter’s life.”

“It’s private.” I sighed. “And I’d be embarrassed if you knew.”

My mom suddenly jerked her head around and narrowed her eyes on me. “Are you stripping?”

“No!” I replied with an offended tone. “Geez, Mom. Do I look that desperate to you?”

“I’m sorry, but you were a good dancer, and you have a—you are beautiful. Some women turn to that for the money.”

“I am not working in a strip club.” That was a truth. Although technically, when I worked at Black Velvet, my clothes did come off.

“Since I’m asking probing questions today, why does Robin wear a collar every day except Sunday? And why does it say “Slutty Kitty” on it?”

“Robin and I have a unique relationship, Mom.”

“Is it a sub/domme thing?” she asked. “Like you had with Gina?”

Now, I was the one regarding my mom with slitted eyes.

“What? I read books! I’ve read Fifty Shades of Grey.” Her stammering voice was indignant. “Is that what your relationship is?”

“That’s my business. Your business is to be nice to her. Phoebe, too.”

“Since when are you so closed off about your sex life?” my mother asked. “We’ve always been quite open with each other.”

“Have you told me everything about your sex life, Mom?” I asked. “I feel like I know very few details about what you and Phoebe get up to.”

“Do you want to know details?”

“No.”

“Okay then. I’m just saying. You came to us for advice about Gina, and we helped you through it—same thing with Jade. For crying out loud, Phoebe gave you a book about how to perform cunnilingus! We took you to the sex toy store to help you pick out stuff. We’ve always been very sex-positive in our home.”

“I know. And I’m thankful for it. You’re right. Robin is my pet six days a week. One day a week, she’s my girlfriend.”

Surprise was written all over my mom’s face.

“See! You’re judging me!”

“I’m not judging you!” she said. “I’m just taking it all in. I didn’t realize you were so into it. Into that kind of play, I mean. I guess it’s like mother, like daughter, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

My mom shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve dabbled in a bit.”

“You and Phoebe?”

My mom shrugged again, this time with a grin. “Maybe.”

“Okay, you’re going to have to tell me more, Mom.”

She made a sign with her hand and mouth that her lips were sealed. “Ask Phoebe.”

We pulled into the parking lot a moment later, and our conversation was soon forgotten as my mom started her infusion. While she entered the treatment room, I stayed back, checked my phone, and read a book. My mom came out about ninety minutes later. She always had more energy and color after the treatments. I pretended like I didn’t see the cost each time we left, but I did. One thing my parents were not open about was how much money they had. I couldn’t imagine they had enough to continue paying those sums for long.

When I got home, I found Robin cleaning the kitchen while Phoebe worked on her laptop. Robin brightened at my appearance, crossed the kitchen, and kissed me.

“Kitty missed Madam,” she hissed in my ear.

“Morning, Phoebe,” I called out to my other mom.

Phoebe looked up and gave me a half smile. “Morning.” She had been distant with me ever since I returned from Denver. A moment later, she snatched up her laptop and went to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“Did she talk much to Kitty?” I asked Robin in a low voice.

“Like two words,” Robin answered. “Kitty asked if she could make Madam’s mom breakfast, and Madam’s mom said, ‘No, thanks.’”

I nodded with a frown. Phoebe didn’t seem to approve of Robin. Nor had she liked Gina. Jade, on the other hand, was well-liked by both of my mothers. Maybe Phoebe would like the next woman I brought home.

“Just give it time,” Robin said. “Kitty will wear her down.”

I wasn’t sure about that. “I have to go to Denver.”

“Okay,” Robin said. “Kitty is going to go visit some high school friends. Maybe see Steph and Cass for lunch.”

Steph and Cass were Robin’s younger sisters, short for Stephanie and Cassandra.

“Is Kitty permitted to remove her collar when out with her friends and family?”

I rankled at the idea of Robin visiting her old high school friends instead of staying at home waiting for me. The thought of her removing her collar bothered me even more. In Denver, she never had many places to go besides running errands for the home or meeting me for lunch. Still, I knew I couldn’t keep her cooped up inside the house with my moms all day.

“Kitty can wear a shirt that covers it.”

Robin pursed her lips and nodded. I could tell she was biting her tongue.

“Have fun.” I kissed her on the cheek and turned to go, but Robin pulled me back, went up on her tiptoes, and laid a fat kiss on my lips. Then she groped my ass while still clinging tightly to me.

When she finally let me go, I had a smirk on my face. “Bye.”

In Denver, I practiced my dance with Pryita. She was pickier than usual about my performance and kept making me redo my steps. It wasn’t the redos that bothered me. It was her rude tone and her bitchy attitude. When I hit my breaking point, I stopped in the middle of my dance.

“What the fuck, Pryita?” I asked. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Pryita’s shoulders slumped, which was saying something considering how often she preached about perfect posture. “Forgive me, Marcy. My husband and I had a big fight this morning. It’s been on my mind all day.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No, thank you. I will try to be more patient. I apologize again.”

“You need to rage fuck something?” I asked, smirking devilishly at her.

“No. Thank you.”

“Your loss.”

Pryita glared at me. “Take it from the top. We will do it three more times.”

I groaned loudly at her.

My second appointment in Denver was with Gina. We met at my apartment since it was empty. Gina didn’t speak much as we changed into our outfits. I wore a red dominatrix outfit, a form-fitting red catsuit complete with the ears. Gina had a black latex outfit tailored to support her in a suspension rig. As she changed, I noticed she had gained a little weight back, but her muscles were still toned.

“You look good. Healthy.”

Gina gave me a searching look. “Thanks.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Oh...” She looked down at the floor. “In a motel. They do month-to-month. Kitty’s—I’m still figuring out my next steps. And I’m taking some classes.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d referred to herself as Kitty around me. However, it didn’t happen as often as two weeks ago. “What classes?”

“Web design. I’ll learn that and keep working at Black Velvet until I figure everything out.”

“You can stay here instead of paying for a motel,” I offered. “I’m not using this place. Someone may as well take care of it.”

Gina looked at me for a long moment. “No, but thank you, Mad—Marcy. It would be awkward, and the motel isn’t very expensive.”

“Are you, uh, you know ... Are you seeing anyone?” I asked.

Gina shook her head. “How are you and Robin?”

“Good. It’s different. It’s very different than our relationship. For better and for worse.” Gina became visibly agitated by this, so I changed the subject. “Should we start?”

We had to get all the conversation over with before Gina put on her bondage hood because it restricted her ability to speak.

“Would it be okay if we ran through the full program like a real show?” Gina asked. “The way we’ve been doing them doesn’t help me prepare for the actual performances.”

For the last few weeks, when Gina and I practiced our show, we didn’t have any penetration. We would stop at that point and skip to the part after it. Today, Gina wanted to have real sex. I didn’t mind. We needed to make sure we were comfortable with our performance anyway.

I told her yes.

When I touched Gina, I understood why she had requested a full rehearsal instead of our abridged practice sessions. Through my physical contact with her, I sensed a deep, almost overwhelming need. The need for physical contact, for emotional connection. The craving to feel adored. The starvation for sexual satiation. And most of all, the yearning to be touched again by me. She was, as Michael had said, my witness. Bonded to me.

Reuniting with her was like slipping into a pair of favorite sweatpants on a cold night. It felt good and right. We were familiar with each other’s needs and wants. I didn’t need a special bond to know how to maximize her pleasure. Nor did she need it for me.

We ran through our sex show with a practiced ease. We had performed it multiple times, and on Saturday the 14th, we would perform it for the last time before moving to our next show, which we had already begun to plan under M’s tutelage and guidance.

The longer we fucked, the deeper into her core of emotions I delved. I sensed how badly she missed me. And I had no doubt she could tell how much I missed her. Our longing fueled our sex. Gina came four times. They were quiet but powerful orgasms. Our session ran longer than expected. When I released her from her restraints, she hugged me tightly and cried. They were tears of relief and comfort, not sadness or regret. She did not want to get back together with me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She nodded into my chest. I pulled her face to mine and kissed her for a long time. Then she broke it off, wiped her eyes, and said, “I have to go.”

We left my apartment and said goodbye in the parking lot. When I got into my truck, I paused before starting the engine. Had I just cheated on Robin? No, I told myself. I had practiced my sex performance, which was my job. Gina was my ex-girlfriend, and we shared a bond. She was my witness. I hadn’t understood that until recently. And I still didn’t fully comprehend it.

Should I have reached out to Gina sooner or more persistently? Should I have been trying to figure out a way to fix our relationship?

No. Gina made it clear she didn’t want me anymore. I would be there as a friend. As a work partner. But that was all. I hadn’t cheated on Robin. I had done my job. I pulled out of the parking garage and headed back home.

The longer I drove, the more sick I felt. I was supposed to have a strong bond with Gina, but I’d pushed her away. I’d ruined something special. I’d driven away someone bonded to me. Was I destined to ruin every relationship?

My thoughts turned to Robin. She was too good for me. I was going to hurt her the same way I’d hurt Jade and Gina and everyone else who got too close to me. I was a poison.

It was nearing 8 p.m. when I pulled back into town. Instead of driving home, I pulled into the parking lot of a familiar haunt of mine: the Pink Umbrella. The lesbian bar in my town. It’d been a while since I’d had to use my fake ID. No one carded me in Denver at the queer bars. I spent so much time there that all the bouncers knew me by face.

After breaking up with Jade, I’d come to the Pink Umbrella multiple times for drinks and hookups. I sat in my truck, staring at the building. What was I doing here? Looking for a hookup?

“No,” I told myself. “You just need one drink to unwind. Then you’ll go home.”

I turned off the ignition and went inside. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a whisky sour. The baseball playoffs were on the TV. Normally, I sat at a table by myself, but that wasn’t appealing at the moment. I wanted to chat, and sitting alone at the bar invited conversation. I finished my sour and was about to order another drink when a woman slid into the stool next to me.