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
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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 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. . .
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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 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.
