Dagger

"Jackson, my Mistress will see you now!"

"Thanks Clarice," Jackson said, giving the fox floret a pet as he walked by her desk. She let out a happy little squeak and nuzzled against his paw, but Jackson was too preoccupied today to give her more than a brief bout of scritches. He wanted to cancel this appointment with everything he had on the docket, but Acer wouldn't hear it.

I will not stand by and let you imperil your mental health, puppy, Acer had said firmly. You will go to therapy today, or so help me I will drug you up to your eyeballs and drag you there myself.

The plant had a point, as much as Jackson was loath to admit it. He had learned to keep his emotions and thoughts in check out of necessity back on Terra, but there were issues in there that Acer wouldn't let him leave be. Letting those problems fester was much easier than coming to this office and talking about them, but Acer Maplestone was not the kind of being who preferred the easy way out. He enrolled Jackson in therapy the week he arrived on Gilreath, and he had to admit it did him a world of good.

That didn't mean he had to like it. In fact, he hated it. He would rather let his emotions pass than linger on them and cry about them, but that choice was not his to make. Acer gave him a lot of leeway in his wardship, far more than was typical in his understanding, but he would not budge on this. Fine. If he had to burn an hour every week on this pointless exercise, so be it.

Acer and Miss Veraceae might challenge him on his use of the word "pointless," but they weren't in his head. Jackson intended to keep it that way, and achieving that goal meant going along with the Affini's insistence that he explore his inner life with others like some kind of sap.

He walked through the open door into his therapist's office, and there she was. Miss Eliza Veraceae, Twenty-First Bloom, expert in the mental health of more than three thousand xenosophont species. Jackson supposed that if he could live for roughly 6,300 years, he'd develop a pretty wide skill set as well.

"Ah, it's lovely to see you again, Jackson," Miss Veraceae said, gesturing toward the couch all of her patients sat on. Jackson took his seat, forcing a smile onto his face. "Did you get a chance to complete the exercise I laid out for you last week?"

"Ah, fuh-

huhhhhh!"

Jackson moaned. Acer clearly hadn't been kidding about the new Class W regimen, trying to curse resulted in a lightning strike of pleasure between his legs. Miss Veraceae politely waited for the assault on his senses to subside. "I f-forgot."

"Hmm," the therapist said, jotting down a note on her pad. She had to be the only Affini Jackson had ever met who used physical writing implements. "Jackson, that marks the fourth assignment I've sent you home with that you've neglected. I understand that you've expressed reservations about these appointments in the past, but I do expect you to engage with these exercises earnestly. I know that your warden does as well."

Jackson sighed, fighting back an annoyed grumble. How was writing out ten unqualified compliments about himself meant to do anything for his mental health? It was beyond pointless. Acer gave him enough compliments to last ten lifetimes, between the plant and his floret friends he was drowning in positive affirmation. It was important for him to be realistic about his qualities and capabilities.

But he learned long ago that saying things like that in front of an Affini was as good as asking for a collar. If he was going to keep his neck free, he had to keep a level head during these sessions. Miss Veraceae may have had a twisted idea of what a mentally healthy Terran looked like, but she was no fool. Better to tell selective truths than outright lies.

"I'm really sorry, Miss Veraceae," he said, looking up at her and making his best puppy eyes. "I don't mean to blow off your assignments, I just forget things sometimes. They always used to discipline me for it at work and school back on Terra."

Ah yes, Old Reliable. Nothing melted an Affini core quite like discussing the perils of capitalism. Nothing he said was a lie either, he did forget things sometimes and Terran authority figures would often punish him for it. But he remembered exactly what Miss Veraceae asked him to do all week, no matter how much he tried to forget it.

Something in Jackson's head told him that maybe it wasn't the best thing that he was so vehemently opposed to giving himself ten compliments, but he brushed it off. Exercises like that were for florets who couldn't walk across a room without help from an Affini. He was put together and competent, everybody said so. People told him that back on Terra, and now Affini told him that on Gilreath. It was who he was. If he abandoned that to talk about his stupid, mushy insecurities, what would he have left?

Miss Veraceae took the bait. "Oh, you poor dear," she said, offering out a vine for him to take. Jackson accepted the gesture, holding onto it tightly, but not so tightly that she would think he needed it or something. "I understand. Issues such as these are very common among Terrans, you cuties have so much to worry about! In the future, I will communicate your assignments to Acer, and he can ensure they remain on your agenda."

Wait, fuck, that wasn't what he wanted at all! Jackson scowled, he had backed himself right into a corner. Miss Veraceae wasn't angry with him, but now Acer was going to find out that he hadn't done his stupid homework. His tree was a good deal more familiar with his tricks than his therapist, he wasn't likely to buy the excuse that he'd forgotten four straight assignments. That wouldn't be enough to domesticate him on the spot, but it would surely earn him a lecture about the importance of caring for himself. Fantastic.

"Thank you Miss," he said after a moment, a fake smile spreading across his cheeks. "That should definitely help."

Miss Veraceae smiled at that, dipping a vine in her pitcher of mineralized water. "That's a good boy," she said. "How has your week been?"

Jackson sighed. "Full," he answered honestly. "Acer and I are hosting a watch party for my favorite Terran sport today, and I'm pretty nervous about it."

"Oh of course, the great feetball party, it's the talk of the town!" Miss Veraceae exclaimed. "I can't help hearing about it everywhere I go. How many sophonts are you going to have in your Hab for the match?"

Jackson buzzed his lips. "Okay first of all, it is

football,"

he grumbled. "I swear half of you plants say it incorrectly on purpose just to get a rise out of me! And second of all, it's gonna be like sixty. Acer and I have been cooking since yesterday morning to get everything ready. We had to have a restaurant stasis chamber delivered!"

Miss Veraceae scribbled something on her pad. "That sounds like an awful lot of work," she said. "Have you taken breaks during the day like we've discussed?"

Jackson chuckled awkwardly. "Uh, well when you're making food for sixty people in a day and a half, there isn't a lot of time for slowing down," he said. "I was exhausted by the time I went to bed yesterday, I just fell asleep in Acer's vines on the couch."

"Jackson dear, at the risk of sounding somewhat harsh, you cannot simply discuss changes you wish to make in therapy, you must actually make the changes," the Affini said with a sigh. She set her pen and pad down. "I first saw you nine weeks ago, and you said you wanted to learn how to take pressure off of yourself and relax. Do you feel you've done much in your time on Gilreath to work toward these goals?"

Jackson sighed and looked out the window. If he was being truthful, he hadn't, but what did it matter? He did just fine without all of this stuff beforehand, and he was perfectly capable of being self-sufficient. That didn't mean Miss Veraceae would be happy to hear his opinion, though. She was going to be a key character witness at his independence hearing, whenever that was. Jackson knew full well his degree of self-determination was unusual among wards, and the thought of giving that up was terrifying.

"I guess I haven't," he said with a sigh. "I just don't understand the point. I did fine without therapy and talking about all my feelings back on Terra, and I have a great time here without doing all the weird compliment stuff. I know they're true, Acer and my friends won't stop reminding me about everything they like about me. Why do I have to say it too?"

Miss Veraceae tapped her chin with a vine. "Let me ask a question in return," she said. "Why don't you want to?"

Jackson grumbled. It was always another layer with Miss Veraceae, there was never just an answer. Couldn't "I don't want to" be enough? Apparently not. The Affini's relentless drive to never leave anybody behind got obnoxious when you were perfectly comfortable being left behind on some fronts.

"It just feels unnecessary!" Jackson exclaimed, forcefully enough to make Miss Veraceae jump. "Why should I be praising myself when I haven't even done anything? Anybody can cook, anybody can throw a party. It feels selfish, it feels so stupid!"

Whoops. The mask wasn't supposed to slip like that in here. Judging by the look of concern on Miss Veraceae's face, Jackson had just made a pretty serious error. This was why he didn't want anything to do with this stupid place. If he ever let them see this side of him, he'd be collared and contracted by the end of the week.

"Jackson, dear," Miss Veraceae said, looking him right in the eye. "Did you really forget to do your assignment? I won't be upset if that is the case, but I would like to know. It's important that you be honest with me in these sessions."

"Well, um, I've been busy," Jackson said sheepishly. "I guess I didn't forget, I might've just kinda blown it off."

Miss Veraceae smiled softly. "That's perfectly normal," she said. "Among florets, that is. Such exercises are traditionally left to their owners to enforce. How are you feeling about your relationship with Acer these days, Jackson?"

Jackson grimaced. She did have him on that one, leaving the thought of responsibilities to your designated Affini was definitely some top-tier floret shit behavior. Thank the stars Acer embraced his wishes in a way that most Affini wouldn't. If it was Miss Veraceae who found him, he'd probably be a collared, fuzzy-headed pet by now. And that sounded awful.

Terrible. Definitely for sure something he never wanted.

"It's uh, it's good!" Jackson said, trying to sound casual. "We get along really well, and I feel like he appreciates me for who I am instead of something he's trying to shape me into. I'd ask him to be my boyfriend, but that would feel pretty weird with the whole pet thing."

"Why's that?" Miss Veraceae asked. "You two have had multiple conversations about your boundaries, and he seems more than willing to respect them. What's wrong with deepening your relationship?"

"Because I know he won't be happy with it not progressing past that," Jackson said miserably. "Do you know how many of my floret friends have tried to do something like that? They'll say 'oh, we'll just be partners, I'll never be a pet, we've got it figured out.' Most of them don't even make it a month before they're in a collar. Once you take that first step with an Affini, it never stops."

Miss Veraceae chuckled, and Jackson fumed. This wasn't funny, this was his future!

"Jackson dear, forgive me, but it seems you've already taken several of those steps," the Affini said, flipping through her pad. "You have regular scenes together, he performs most of your care tasks, you've even said you call him Master in the past. I must say, I don't see that too much would change if you wore a collar and called yourself Jackson Maplestone."

"That's not the point!" Jackson exclaimed.

"Then what is the point, petal?" She asked. Jackson felt anger bubbling up in his gut, but he took a deep breath and pushed it back down. Shouting wasn't going to fix anything.

"It just feels wrong," he replied. "I'm happy to play around with the idea, it's fun to be Acer's puppy during scenes. But I get sick to my stomach when I think about introducing myself as property. I never got to be anything but what I was told to be on Terra, Miss Veraceae. I can't go back."

She stopped writing in her pad. "It's strange to hear that from somebody who made such a passionate speech about the liberation of being a floret, Jackson," she said. "That footage has been one of the most popular videos on the local overnet this week. I'm sure you can guess what it says in most of the comments."

Jackson scoffed. "Probably something like 'Oh by the Everbloom, what a precious little seed! I'm going to go file a Notice of Intent right this minute!'"

It certainly wouldn't be the first time somebody called Jackson a seed. His floret friends teased him about it constantly, joking about how they should measure his neck for a collar, telling him that puppies don't belong on the furniture. And sure, he would play along, and get on the floor and bark when they told him too, but that didn't mean he had to be a pet forever! He liked having final say over his own life for once!

"Mostly to that effect, yes," Miss Veraceae said. "I'm not in a position to force you into domestication, Jackson. That is not my role, and it is not my place to pass judgment on the courtship practices of another Affini. But I am sending you home with a new assignment, and I will be sending it to your warden so that you complete it before your next session."

"I'm really sorry," Jackson said, looking back out the window.

"Ah ah ah, none of that," Miss Veraceae admonished. "There's nothing wrong with needing help to complete tasks. Internal motivation can be difficult for all sophonts, independent or domesticated. I'm certain Acer will be delighted to help you with your exercises."

Great. Fantastic. Wonderful. Jackson could almost hear the scratch of the pen on his domestication contract.

"Before your next session, you're going to do a little writing exercise for me, petal," Miss Veraceae said. "I want you to write out what would be different about your life if you were a floret. I assure you that this exercise will not be used against you at your independence hearing, it is simply something I want you to consider."

Jackson fought back a scoff. Yeah, sure. This was the Affini Compact, nothing was out-of-bounds at independence hearings. They would probably read it aloud to a chorus of polite titters from their peers, while Jackson blushed and grumbled himself into a puddle. All of the Affini would think it was adorable, and some part of his soul would die forever.

But if she was going to tell Acer that this was on his to-do list, then it was absolutely going to happen. Knowing his plant, he'd have to write the damn essay in his pup hood while so high he could barely see straight.

When he thought about it like that, Jackson understood why everybody thought he was a floret. But that didn't matter as long as Acer got it, and Acer demonstrated over and over again that he got it. He wasn't about to force his ward into some permanent, humanity-stripping pet relationship without knowing it was what Jackson wanted.

"Thank you, Miss Veraceae," he said, forcing his maelstrom of emotions back down under control. "That should definitely help."

"Of course, dear petal," she said. "I'll see you at the same time next week. You ought to get going for now, you've got to get ready for your legball!"

"Football!" Jackson exclaimed, exasperated, as he walked out of the office.

***

"I don't understand it," Jackson sighed as he mashed avocados for guacamole. "I know going there is good for me, but I always feel more tired and on edge after my sessions with Miss Veraceae than I do when I get there."

Jackson and his plant were in their massive kitchen, preparing the last of their food and beverages for the party. The handmade tortilla chips were already sitting in the stasis chamber, held in perpetual freshness until their guests arrived. But Jackson insisted that letting the guacamole sit, even flawlessly preserved by Compact technology, would degrade its quality. He had to do it just before everybody arrived, and he had to do it himself.

"That's typical for therapy among Terrans, little beagle," Acer said, mixing the xenodrug-laden floret punch. "Unpacking past traumas is tiring, and it can dig up previous thought patterns that are damaging to your species' psyche. There's a reason many first sessions at the medical campus are conducted with the patient in restraints. There's no telling what you Terrans will do sometimes!"

Jackson giggled. "Sometimes I'm amazed you ever let me hold a knife," he teased.

Acer shot him a look, and an electric thrill ran down Jackson's spine. "I'd be happy to re-examine that stance if you wish," he said with playful venom in his voice. "Your hood is just in our playroom, I'm sure you'd be happier doing all this work if you let go a bit."

Jackson waved his hand. "No, no, it'll be better if I just get this done," he said, not looking up from his task. "There's still so much to finish! We've got to make the guacamole and the punch, get everything set out, make sure the TV is hooked up to Coriander's feed, arrange all the seating-"

"Jackson-" Acer interjected, but the human barrelled onward.

"Clean the Hab, I need to pick out my outfit and change, and then AFTER the party we have to clean up again and put everything away and do something with the food!" His heart was racing. "I don't have time to be a dog, I have to make sure everything is perfect!"

"Starlight, stop,"

Acer said, adding an undertone of The Voice. Whenever he broke that out, it was enough to make Jackson stop cold in his tracks.

"You have worked yourself to the bone all week for this party, and I will be disregarding my duty if I allow you to continue in this manner. You are going to put on your adorable little hood and finish making your lovely guacamole, and then you will not do one more thing to prepare our home for this party. Do I make myself clear?"

"B-but," Jackson squeaked, only for Acer to wrap three vines around his waist and lift him up to look him right in the eyes. The brown-haired Terran lost himself in the bottomless silver pools immediately, just like always.

"I didn't ask for protests, starlight,"

Acer said, squeezing the vines around his waist.

"I asked if you understood."

Jackson nodded, slack-jawed. Of course he understood. What other option did he have but to understand? Nobody was better at being clear than his warden.

The Affini set him back on the ground and set him off with a pat on the back, and Jackson made his way through the living room into their playroom. It was an expansive space full of kinky gear, but right now Jackson only had eyes for one thing. It rested on a metal mannequin head just inside the entrance, and just looking at it was enough to make him blush.

It was two pieces of neoprene, held together by snap fasteners in the shape of a dog's head. His had long, floppy dark orange ears to match his preferred breed of dog. The snout was the same color, and the rest was a uniform shade of black. Back on Terra, they called them pup hoods. Jackson had long wanted one, but custom neoprene was well outside the budget of most workaday citizens in the Terran Accord. Fortunately, that wasn't a consideration on Gilreath. All it took was one visit to a specialty tailor and a set of measurements, and now Jackson was the proud owner of a piece of gear that made him feel alive.

He came out wearing it, and Acer picked him up and deposited him back in the chair. He didn't continue with The Voice, but the echoes of it still rang in Jackson's head. Joining it was Miss Veraceae's unstated implication that not much of his life would change if he gave in and became Acer's floret. She couldn't be right, could she? No, that was silly.