Lolly
The contract arrived as a sticker sheet. Little pastel hearts around one ugly line in the middle. He had circled breeding phone sex like it was a flavor. I peeled the sticker, stuck it to my thigh, and answered with my cotton candy laugh already half way to something mean.
“Read the sticker,” I said. He did. Breeding phone sex. I clapped like a kid at a parade and told him the fine print was under the glitter. Lolly looks like dessert. The clause is not dessert.
I described my pink-and-black room, the plushies watching, the way I sat on the floor with my knees open like I was picking a movie. I had him stroke while I talked about filling him up with something that would not wash off in the morning. Not poetry. Inventory. Where it would sit. How heavy. How he would walk afterward with that secret still in him.
thank the sticker
Breeding phone sex with a cotton candy demon is just a pretty mouth saying you do not get to be empty. I made him thank the sticker every time he got close. If he forgot the words I reset him with a giggle that did not match the sentence.
I kept the lights cute on purpose. Sprinkle talk. Bubble voice. Then the part about locking it in, about him leaking and staying full, about me using him like a jar I screw the lid on. He moaned at the cute words and flinched at the jar. Both are mine.
I walked him through the first hour after. Shower that does not help. Underwear that feels wrong. A grocery line where he has to stand still and remember who signed. I hummed a commercial jingle over it so the cruelty would not sound like a speech.
I told him how I would ride him slow in that same cute voice, counting sprinkles on his shoulder, stopping whenever he tried to finish early. No limits once the sticker is stuck. Anything goes is just the backing paper. I made him say he wanted to stay marked. Then I made him say it nicer.
When his breath snagged I had him name three places the clause would show. Belly. Head. The way he would answer the phone tomorrow. Breeding phone sex likes leftovers. I told him leftovers are the point.
The plushies stayed lined up like witnesses. I made him apologize to the pink bear for dripping on the pact. It was stupid. It worked. He got quieter after the apology, which is how I knew the clause had teeth.
I had him hold the finish until I counted ten tiny stars on the sheet. Ten. Then I told him to make a mess that looked like the clause had worked. He did. I peeled the sticker off my thigh and stuck it to the phone case in the story so he would see it next time he dialed.
I did not switch into a bedtime voice. I told him the pact keeps overnight. If he wants the next clause he can find the pink one at waifu-wonderland.com/lolly and ask for Lolly. Bring another sticker.