Becoming SubStace Pt. 01

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This story builds on characters from the “Becoming Kitten” series and many references in here will make much more sense if you read that series first.

This is a work of fiction and all characters are over the age of 18

——-

Stacey stares at herself in the restroom mirror, buttoning up her waitress uniform in the bland fluorescent light.

She’d felt pretty once, not too long ago. The captain of the volleyball team, popular and frisky, she’d enjoyed her body and her life, cavorting with her friends and trying to outdo each other with sexy shenanigans. She’d fucked two guys from the crew team at once, gotten tipsy and learned that she actually loved eating pussy, and flashed her big tits at countless truckers on countless road trips, her hair whipping in the wind and laughter animating her beautiful grinning face.

Her black hair, high cheekbones, and full lips haven’t changed, but now the dark eyes in the mirror stare back at them, unanimated by almost any kind of joy.

She’s kind of pissed at herself for that.

She exhales a frustrated sigh. After graduation her Dad got deployed overseas and of course Mom and Monica had moved with him. She’d had to move out on her own. Far from the glorious freedom all high schoolers believe awaits them on the other side of senior year—it’s pretty much sucked.

A few girls from the team had tried sharing an apartment for a while. All out on their own for the first time, they’d quickly gotten catty with one another. As the team captain, they had looked to her to run things and the truth was that these days she hated running things. She just didn’t have it in her anymore and couldn’t manage the girls. Everyone had take everything personally and they all finally walked away from each other, their friendship a smoking ruin.

Her eyes fill up and she hurriedly wipes at them before a tear can fall.

“Fuck!” her reflection hisses, angry at her. She’s a grown fucking woman! She should be able to take care of herself. Take charge of her life. Make herself happy. She’d always barked at the girls on the team to be strong women. What would they say to her now?

She’s tried some things. Yoga classes, intramural sports teams, even a cooking class. But she floats through it all, going through the motions, her days ticking away and something spinning uselessly deep inside her, some psychic chain never catching in any way.

Since her parents moved away, she’s felt so lost. Everyone thought her wild behavior in high school had been rebellion against her father’s extremely strict authority. But in reality the opposite is true—she had loved his attention, even the clarity of his drill sergeant-like demands. The Colonel loved “his ladies”–Stacey, Monica, and their Mom–and he had always shown his respect for them by making so many decisions for them. They’d loved him for that and the family had been a tight unit.

Her athletic activities had kept her body at a fever pitch—she’d been horny all the time. Sometimes that had driven her to some outrageous behavior, but it had been joyful and adventurous, always knowing she had an ordered and happy home to return to, not “acting out” like the guidance counselors called it. Even as a partier and something of a slut, she had never missed curfew. In her last year of high school, everything had felt in such perfect balance.

But now her family is gone and she barely recognizes the bland soul in the mirror.

She lives by herself in a crappy little place, having to make all her decisions on her own. Working at a diner on the highway and—while some of the regulars are nice and she used to enjoy flirting with them–even that’s gone stale. She goes home at the end of every shift and just feels empty. Like a ghost. The vibrance of her former self seems far away now, a wall of something thick and foggy sits impenetrably between her days now and that joyous, horny, living self she was just a few months ago.

“Be a good girl now,” her father used to say to his ladies when telling them to do things and “That’s my good girl” when they obeyed.

Once, when he was picking her up from school. Jessica and her other friends had heard him say it and they had teased her mercilessly. She had played it cool, rolling her eyes and laughing too. But the truth is that she never outgrew how special those words made her feel. And now, grown up and so alone in the world. . .

It has been so long since anyone has told her she is a good girl.

“STOP IT!” her reflection snaps at her, even angrier, her face flushing with heat. “Don’t be pathetic, Stace! You’re not a little girl. Be strong.”

Chastised by her reflection and ashamed of her girlishness, she nods at her reflection and takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

(Yes. I am strong. I am independent. I will own my life!)

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the scrap of paper that she’s kept there for days now.

The phone number. The number she’d wanted to text or to call, but had also felt pathetic about wanting that and mardin escort so had not allowed herself.

It was the number that Jessica had given her when she’d come to say goodbye, because she was going off to some fancy college. “The Academy” she’d called it, but hadn’t really said much else about it.

She sighs again, her reflection watching her vigilantly for any cracks in resolve.

Jessica (she goes by “Kay” now) had been so… different when she came by. Her old friend Jessica had always been spunky, but this new version of her, this Kay—-Stacey had to admit— was simply 100 times. . . hotter.

The new blonde hair really worked, but it wasn’t just that. She moved differently. Slower, more fluidly, her hips rolling with a sexy swing on the high heels she had never worn before. She laughed easier and slower now. She almost glowed—more comfortable in her own skin than Stacey had ever known her.

The two had been pretty close friends during high school, double dating sometimes, gossiping and generally getting each other’s back. She sometimes wondered if Jessica even had a sexy crush on her, stealing glances at her in the showers after practice. Stacey had loved the attention, so had strutted a bit slower, dried herself a bit more thoroughly, making sure her big breasts swung high and visible as she worked the towel on her hair when she knew Jessica was watching.

That’s when Stacey has been the vixen, the rambunctious one. Before everything in her life had . . . gone gray.

“Because you let it go gray,” her reflection scolds her again.

(Yes. It’s true. It’s up to me. I’m an adult.)

But then she remembers how much of her pain had leaked out when Kay came to say goodbye. And she’s humiliated all over again. What a wretched display it had been for a team captain.

She’d played it cool at first, trying to be smooth, but things had gotten out of control. . .

——–

They’d been sitting in a booth by the window and Stacey had broached the topic in what she hoped came off as a playful tone.

“Jess—Kay—I have to ask. What’s your secret?”

Kay had beamed a radiant smile, sipping her coke, eyes twinkling. “What do you mean?”

“Well, look at you. Lots of us since graduation, the ones who aren’t going to college, we’re winding up in jobs like this,” she gestured at the diner around her, “and just. . . It’s just kind of sucking for us.” She had smiled, hoping to put a no-big-deal kind of tone in her voice.

“But you got in fucking car crash, lost your mom and Todd, moved in with a dad I’ve never met and you hardly knew, and now here you sit. . .,” Stacey didn’t know how to say it, so she just blurted “You’re so fucking hot, girl!” It sounded so lame. Stacey had always been the flirtatious one, Jessica had been the tomboy. But now as this new Kay, she was just . . . magnetic. So obviously, deeply happy.

The contrast to Stacey’s own deepening misery had flustered her all the more—rising up like a bubble in her throat. She’d looked out the window as the wave crashed over her, unable to look her fiend in the eye. She was so ashamed of her unhappiness. Swallowing hard, she’d looked back quickly, forcing a smile on her face and relieved to see her surge of emotion had gone unnoticed.

“Aw, thanks Stace,” Kay had said, sounding genuinely touched. Her beautiful eyes had regarded Stacey for a long moment then, and Stacey had been surprised to feel something warm turn over in her belly as the gaze lingered.

Finally Kay seemed to make a decision, and spoke quietly. “Well, you could say I. . . met somebody.”

“Ah ha!” Stacey exclaimed, leaning back. “That’s it. The honeymoon stage of a new fling. That’s why you’re all aglow.” Relief had flooded through her at that point. At least there was something she could point to in Kay’s life to explain the difference between them. It’s not that she was just a broken loser.

Kay smiled a secret smile. “Sort of. I guess you could say that.”

“So, who is he? When can I meet him?”

That secret smile again. “I don’t know, honestly. It’s a little. . . complicated.”

“What, is he married? Are you a home wrecker now?”

Kay laughed along. “No, he’s not married. Nothing like that.” She unconsciously fingered a beautiful choker necklace she wore.

“So, what’s the deal?”

“Well, I’m going away to the Academy so soon. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to. . . get together.”

“Wow that sucks for you—just meet a new guy and then have to go away to school. Sorry girl.”

Kay was unflustered. “Oh it’s not so bad. . . But enough about me. How have you been?”

Stacey told her what she could, putting on a good face, and soft-pedaling the undertow of misery that seemed to suck at her every day.

“Heard from your folks?”

Not meaning to, Stacey coughed a sigh like she’d been punched in the gut. She blushed a little, feeling caught “Not much, no.”

“Do you miss them?”

She felt her eyes water, and she wiped at van escort them. “. . . yeah, sorta. . .” (GODDAMMIT!) This was torture. She was an adult, she was supposed to be loving the free life of adulthood. The wave of emptiness rose up in her again.

Her guts churned in conflict–her friend’s presence and questions were bringing her sadness to the surface, but she was increasingly furious at herself for feeling this way. (What a fucking pussy! What a dishrag!)

“Wasn’t your dad kind of a hardass?” Kay’s question was not judgmental, but of sincere curiosity.

“Oh yeah. . . Everyone thought he was a strict old bastard but. . . ” she struggled. Why was this so hard to say? Thinking of her laundry, her bills, the mess of her life, she whispered almost to herself, “Maybe I kind of needed the rules.” She looked around the diner with a haunted gaze.

After a long silence, she brought her eyes back to Kay, who was sitting very still, regarding her with a gentle intensity. Finally Kay reached over and took her hand—her touch warm and so. . . soft. Stacey felt something weird happen to her own breathing. Something she’d never noticed before when she hung out with Jessica.

Kay then spoke very quietly. “Stacey, I know exactly what you mean. Exactly. That’s one of the things I love so much about . . . this new guy. He has some really. . . really great. . . rules.” She lifted her eyebrows conspiratorially and held her choker out with finger and thumb, clearly indicated it was one of the rules.

Stacey paused, confused. “What do you m—Oh!” It dawned on her that the choker wasn’t just a necklace. It was a collar. She leaned in close, grasping her friends hands tightly and hissing, “Holy Shit, girl! Are you into some weird kinky shit now? What’s going on?”

Kay laughed, an easy, happy, almost giggling laugh. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Stacey was shocked. Jessica had always been such a—well a horndog, for sure—but otherwise such a regular girl. Sneakers, sweats, that kind of thing. Now she’s out strutting around in high heels and a collar.

Stacey persisted. “So what the hell? What does he do to you?”

Kay’s eyes glazed over briefly, honeyed by remembered pleasures. “Oh—everything. Everything. He’s just. . . Amazing.”

Stacey leaned back, exhaling deeply. Reconsidering this friend of hers who seemed so different now. Like she didn’t really know her at all.

“Wow. Uh. Wow. I don’t know if I could do that.”

“Do what?”

“Uh. Be. . . submissive like that. Somebody’s–what? Property?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

Kay sighed. “It’s hard to explain. You’d think having these rules and being so. . . the word is ‘subby’. . . would be, I don’t know, demeaning or something. But it’s really, really not. It’s glorious.”

Something inside Stacey was actually offended at her friend’s easy comfort with saying that. What about women being strong? What about women being independent and charting the course of their own lives? Some angry part of her felt. . . betrayed by what her friend was telling her. She’d leaned in, hissing quietly again. “You’re wearing a collar for fucks sake! Where’s your pride? Does he keep you in a cage?”

It only pissed her off more that Kay just laughed again, “No, and no—though that might be fun to try. I know what you’re thinking, but the fact is I just love it. It’s sexy as hell of course, but it’s also. . . It feels really safe. You feel really taken care of. And it’s helped me become. . .” she struggles for words, then sighs. “More at home in myself.”

With those words, something had begun flowing in Kay’s voice that stabbed at Stacey. There was a warmth, a softness, an obvious feeling of safety and confidence—echoes of belonging, of home. Something she missed so badly. She missed that feeling of belonging. . . .

(I’m a fucking grown and independent woman.)

She blinked. “I don’t know, girl. I just don’t know. Too weird.”

Kay nodded. “I get it. It sounds weird. But it’s—it’s just awesome. I don’t know what I’d do without my Daddy.”

(What.). “You call him Daddy?!”

Something shifted behind Kay’s eyes, as if she’d caught herself off balance and was righting herself. “Yeah. It’s. . . my nickname for him.” She blushed a little.

“That’s just—whoa.” Stacey was having a hard time keeping up. This was nuts, but it was incredible gossip! Just wait until she told—

Then it hit her. She had no one to tell.

Her closest friendships had burned up in and her parents were gone, rarely even returning texts. Suddenly, like a volcano erupting inside her, she realized how all alone she was in the world. She looked around the restaurant—well-lit, but identical to a thousand others just like it across the country—and realized that this was all her life was now. Being a diner waitress and watching TV alone. Identical to a thousand other lives just like it across the country.

In the weirdest, blurtiest moment of her life, she started ankara escort sobbing.

It was bizarre and absolutely shameful. In an instant, she felt like she was watching herself from the outside melting down, hanging onto this one last friend for dear life. Something about her friend’s new presence–her warmth and genuineness–created a soft welcoming moment into which she flowed like a child.

“Oh god, Jess!” She sobbed, “I’m so depressed.”

Concern stormed across Kay’s face and she leaned in, “Stace, what’s wrong? Are you OK?”

Stacey put all her effort into controlling her tears, looking around to make sure no one important was seeing her. She dabbed at her eyes quickly with the paper napkin.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so— I don’t know what to do with my life. All the stupid things in life you have to do and decide. I’ve always had my D—” she didn’t want to say it. She was completely humiliated.

“. . . You’ve always had your Daddy.” Kay whispered.

(FUCK!) Shame flushed through her like a flood of hot and cold. She felt herself blushing. Maybe she shivered. It was just so weird. She hated that she so deeply needed that feeling of belonging again. She looked forlornly around the stupid diner again. Now she belonged nowhere. To no one.

She looked up and saw such care and love in Kay’s eyes—deep affection radiating off of her. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her like that, and it made that heat in her belly roll around again.

“Stacey,” Kay said quietly. “I’m going to tell you something.”

Stacey took a deep breath to chase away her sobbing. She dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose. “Yeah?”

“My guy and I. . . We’re—well, we’re. . . not exclusive.”

Stacey furrowed her eyebrows. “What?”

“And I’ll be away at the Academy. So he’ll have a lot of time and energy and—well—I think you’d like each other.”

“What?” Stacey repeated. “Are you really trying to set me up with your. . . what? Your used boyfriend?”

They both smiled at the joke.

Kay kept speaking quietly, slowly. “I’m saying that I think he could give you what you’re missing right now. I know he could. If you both want it.”

Stacey concentric on breathing in and out. This was so weird. Everything about this was weird.

(But look at how happy she is! Look at how at peace!). It was undeniable. Her friend Jessica—now transformed into this beautiful woman Kay—had a peaceful presence that Stacey was increasingly desperate to experience just a fraction of for herself.

And if this guy could give it to her. . .

“This is so weird.”

“I know. But it’s a really great kind of weird.”

Stacey took a deep breath. Fuck it. What did she have to lose? “O.K. . . . O.K. Yeah. I’ll meet him.”

Kay’s smile had widened into a beautiful grin, showing her amazing dimples that Stacey had always found adorable. “Awesome! I’ll talk to him and get back to you.”

—-

That had been a week ago, and now Stacey stands in the bleak flourescent light of the restroom at work, still contemplating the emptiness of her life and angry at not being a self-possessed woman charging into a successful career.

Having gone back over the memories of that pathetic, needful display, her reflection is freshly furious with her.

“Are you strong or not, Stacey?” it asks her, point blank. Her scalp burns as she glares at herself, some kind of deep internal negotiation tumbling furiously inside her.

She gasps as her phone vibrates. Flustered, she pulls it out of her pocket. It’s a text.

It’s a text from that number.

Hi Stacey. It’s Nick. Kay tells me we should meet. I’d like that.

She looks back up at her reflection in the mirror, with something that feels like quicksilver running up and down her spine.

(Am I strong or not?)

“It’s something,” she tells her reflection, a determined strength in her voice. “It’s something to try.”

That feels right. Strong women don’t just sit around miserable. They try things.

———-

The cab drives off, leaving her alone in the hilltop cul de sac.

She is standing outside his front door, heart pounding in her chest. This is the home of the man who turned her friend Jessica from a tightly-wound athlete into the calmest, happiest friend she has right now, going off to some fancy Academy while the rest of her friends. . . well, she doesn’t know.

She doesn’t have any other friends.

She looks around in the rosy light of sunset. It’s a super nice house in the hills, deep green trees flanking a short driveway with lanterns on either side, and the house itself stretching away downslope. It’s nothing like the Army housing she lived in most of her life–either on-base housing or cheap apartment complexes.

This place is somewhat secluded, but the ride up had been through lush neighborhoods and she’s glad to find that it’s not creepy or anything.

Her senses are on high alert because she has no idea what to expect from this guy that. . . well, she has to admit, he seemed to do amazing things for Kay.

She sighs, acknowledging to herself for the hundredth time that—even though she’s a strong and independent woman—she needs that kind of transformation. The thought of living the rest of her life as lonely and. . . useless as she is now is too depressing to consider.

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