Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

”Some days, doing ’the best we can’ may still fall short of what we would like to be able to do, but life isn’t perfect on any front-and doing what we can with what we have is the most we should expect of ourselves or anyone else.”

Fred Rogers - Wisdom from the World According to Mister Rogers: Important Things to Remember

Y’know, I always laughed at the idea of self-help books as a kid. I sure as shit didn’t watch Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood after I started grade school. But somehow, here and now, a book with a bunch of quotes from an old white dude is actually helping me feel better about shit. No idea if it’s helping me do or be better, but even just feeling better is more than I ever thought I’d get from either.

Yesterday’s discovery that my ass is a shitty wire extruder, literally, did not leave me in a great mood. A day later I can almost see why Marie couldn’t stop laughing, but I still can’t laugh about it. Probably since that shit hurt as much coming out as it did going in. Also took a chunk of the late afternoon to deal with, and I was so busy watching for flags while trying to get the fucker out that it totally never occurred to me that I was standing on top of the superstructure in view of everybody on the front half of the Black Dragon.

Dumb Bitch, thy name is Tabitha Diaz.

Still, once I had enough of it out, Marie managed to wrap enough of it around her claws to surprise yank the rest out. I really hope she got it all, and I don’t have, like, tiny bits of crossbow bolt in my guts for the next god knows how long.

I know enough Divinations I’ll be able to tell on Monday, Daughter.

Thanks, Boss. You’re the best.

I know.

Of course, even after we had most of that shit out, it still ached. Something, something, something, shot directly in the ass by something designed to penetrate armor. I’m vaguely worried that if I keep getting shot like that, I’m gonna wind up losing sensitivity. Like, not there, but elsewhere in the same general region. Of course, at this point I’m still at the two nickels stage of surprise crossbow rectal violation, but it’s still weird that it happened twice.

I need to remember to not let anybody fire Vulcan when I’m downrange and looking the other way.

Got home, did nothing amorous, because every vague bit of neuron activation made shit clench up, which still ached, and not in a ’ooh, fill me’ kind of way.

I think Marie told Saffron what was going on, because she didn’t give me too much shit about being grumpy and not feeling up for shenanigans. Not only that, but Mimic Dreams featured chibi Chef Marie repeatedly lowering chibi Chef Saffron into the maw like the world’s gentlest crane delivery. Really messed with my me head when that required actual toothless mastication for the soup dumpling effect, but since I don’t remember exactly when the soup dumplings ended, that meant more than one, which meant Saffron would wake up okay. I hoped.

Which, to be fair, she seemed to. At least, she was there staring into my eyes when I woke up, brushing my hair back and kissing me before I could say anything. ”Feeling any better?”

I flexed everything before replying. ”The interior of the rear entrance is still pretty achy, but the rest of me feels great!”

She leaned over and whispered in my ear, ”feeling up to some alone time yet?”

That annoyed me; not her asking, that was cool, oddly sweet after us talking about valuing Marie for more than, y’know, sex and violence and domestic duties. No, what annoyed me was the fact that the ache between my cheeks really was interfering with my whole voracious libido thing. Like, intellectually I kinda thought it would be a good stress relief, and it’s not like we’ve got any lack of stress. Emotionally I don’t think I’ve ever not craved that closeness. Hell, even my libido felt her next to me and went, ’hmm?’, but my fuckin’ lady bits were not interested in fuckin’, or rather every time the suggestion came up, they deferred to the achy asshole.

I shook my head, then thought about something. ”We’re both under a lot of fuckin’ stress.”

”We are. We’re likely to stay that way for the foreseeable future, which is why I’ve stolen a room from the Academy almost entirely for purposes of stress relief.”

I opened my mouth to ask why our bedroom wouldn’t do for that, only to have Menace leap onto our faces screaming, ”Doccah Zeccahdi!”

While the four of us got dressed for class, for council, for command, I snagged a Saffron and Co-Located down to the Love Shack. ”I thought you weren’t up for anything this morning?”

I smiled at her and pulled her down into my lap for a long, lingering kiss. When we pulled away just far enough to leave our foreheads touching, I said, ”Why am I in command down in Calverton?”

I felt her lips curve against mine. ”Oops.”

”Oops? Oops? Oops!?” I tossed her down on the bed and proceeded to tickle her until she started crying involuntarily from laughing too hard. Okay, maybe a little from her abs cramping up, too, but... ’oops’?

Goddess, mercy, please. I can explain.

”Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oops. This better be fuckin’ good.”

Must I do Penance again?

She definitely sounded like that was a briar patch she wanted to be yeeted into at speed. ”Depends on your explaining. Speaking of?”

As My Goddess commands. First and foremost, you are Queen of Norfolk, and you are grooming Olga to be your replacement. Were I to be in obvious command above you, she would be completely overshadowed.

”Fair. Go on.”

I really am nigh overworked. I can only pay attention to one thing at a time, and commanding the conquest of a City is not something I can do without paying attention.

”You say that like I can do it even when I am paying attention.” Her reminder that I’d wound up in command annoyed me, and I ran a finger feather light down her side, drawing a whining gasp from her.

So my Penance begins. But you are doing it, love. You, not Swanson, not Olga, not General Hargreaves. You are in command of our forces in Calverton, and you are doing a marvelous job of it, especially when you have to intervene on a regular basis. About that...?

”Yeah?” Still not mollified, I slid my fingertip across her belly and up her other side.

So wonderfully cruel. If I may make a suggestion, and keep in mind this is a suggestion and not a command as your Imperator, move Olga to the docks as part of your ready response force?

I thought about it while idly moving my fingertip around her ticklish spots. ”I don’t see any reason why not, although she’d be at risk a little bit.”

That’s kind of the point; the folk of Norfolk would see her taking point, the way they expect their Heirs to do.

”Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll move her up there.”

As a command, however, your Imperator requires you to ensure the health of our forward elements; be sure to rotate them back to rest beyond the Black Dragon as needed.

”Woof.” I kept up my slow, torturous tickling. ”Woof.” She curled around herself slowly, like she wanted to not do it, but couldn’t help herself. ”Woof.” Her muscles stood out even through the pleasant squishy layer that normally hid them.

Goof. Goof, please, I think I’m about to vomit.

I froze without lifting my finger. ”Would that ruin it?”

Yes!

”Okay then.” I lifted my hand away, slowly shifting her as she relaxed, until she straddled my lap, her head on my shoulder.

”’Would that ruin it.’ Only my Goof would even think it might not.”

I realized something deeply unpleasant just then. ”Darth Fatass seems to think it’d be amusing. Okay, ’exciting’, in that big girl special way. Ew.”

”Did... Did you want...?”

”NO.” I stopped myself from getting angry by sheer force of outraged will, no matter how much fuckin’ Mimic wanted to fly into a rage and do fucked up shit. ”No. I’m drawing a line on this one. Bitch got me in to blood play with the help of a certain pair of High Priestesses horny on Main, but when it comes to fluids, we’re sticking with what we’ve got so far.”

She whispered into my ear. ”I object.”

”The fuck?”

”However will you get me with child without the inclusion of at least one fluid we have not, as of yet, included?”

Heat rushed across my skin. Even after all the freaky shit, this woman could still make me blush. When I looked down, though, I realized that I looked like some kind of weird roadmap, what with my whole body being a tracery of white scars across red blush. ”Yech.”

She lifted my chin. ”No.” When I opened my mouth to argue, she kissed me. ”No.” I tried to speak again, and she did it again. ”No. Your scars are not, will never be a source of disgust for me, love.”

I sighed. ”Yeah, but I wish I was beautiful like you. Sexy like you. Hot like you.”

She snuggled into me, her breath hot against my ear. ”When I look upon the record of your triumphs, it is all I can do to remember you wish to abstain this morning.” Before I could even argue, and with her whispering shit like that I wasn’t sure what I wanted to argue for, I realized that my belly was not, in fact, sweaty.

As the scent of her personal lubrication reached my nose, my face warmed and I muttered out, ”oh.”

She pulled back and Grinned at me. ”Yes. Oh.”

I collapsed us back to the pair of us just entering the Dining Hall. She looked at me once we sat down, and when I scooped the first syrup soaked slice of corncake into her mouth, she raised a questioning eyebrow.

”I’m eager to get up to Doc Z so he can show the class how to repair a violated asshole.”

She almost snorted syrup at that, but after she swallowed came back with, ”but Cadet Smith isn’t in that class this Season.”

We bantered back and forth like that, with her eventually eating all but one token bite of my corncake while Isnomi stole all of her tortilla and half of mine. I stole another pair of hard sausages to deliver to myself in Calverton, nommed a pleasant amount of jalapeno scrapple, and once all the corncake had been eaten called Marie over and had fun feeding her hard sausage one bit off slice at a time. That woman’s jaws go through meat like an industrial deli slicer. Fascinating, terrifying, and maybe a big bit titillating to watch.

Down in Calverton, I did as Saffron suggested and put Olga and a rotating unit of Jotnar in place as our primary rapid response to red flags. Also got Swanson to start rotating our Heroic clearing forces back to the Black Dragon for R and R. Losing a third of our troops would slow down our progress, but I’d hate to have some kind of fuckin’ cascade Soul failure flip a whole unit of Heroes at once.

Back in class, once we got there Menace bounced over to Doc Z. After they did their hello thing, I said, ”I got another injury I need you to take a look at. Bit of a doozy this time.”

I know, ’oh, embarrassing wound!’, but I figure this was one of those times I could lose my shit or laugh about it, and I chose the path of laughter. Really helped when Saffron shot me the live feed of Sister Siobhan having to do a close examination of the injury site. I might have, very gently of course, ’involuntarily’ clamped down when she poked one delicate finger at the wound. Her squeak was even better than Marie’s when I winched her corset tight. Not sure how to feel about how exciting I found squeaky girls in general. Okay, twice now, but, y’know, nickels, and I really wanted Saffron to squeak too, just to test out the theory.

No joy as regards that, though, as despite enabling my Sister Siobhan squeaking, Saffron herself did not squeak when I did the same thing to her when it was her turn to examine the injury.

I guess it’s a little weird that I did not feel any kind of way about an entire class, most of them vague acquaintances at best, prodding at spots one to six inches past my asshole. Like, proctology appointments and shit were supposed to be all ’oh, no, embarrassment and wacky hijinks!’, but... Y’know, I think the fact that I literally can crush a length of steel with my ass has left me with exactly zero embarrassment about it. Yeah, I’d like a little more padding, maybe a little rounder shape, maybe an exact duplicate of Saffron’s ass, if it comes down to it, but if I’m that desperate for a perfectly round ass I can just Mimic her, and in the meanwhile I have nothing to be embarrassed about.

So fuckin’ weird that of all the things to come to terms with first, it’s my ass.

So after everyone had seen the injuries caused by rapid rectal insertion of a foreign object, not to mention the extras caused by how my ass apparently left some sharp edges on that extruded wire, Doc Z showed everybody how to Shape a Heal Injury to specifically fix the interior of an ass. Which, since I’ve described all the other bullshit what’s gone up there, wound up feeling like eucalyptus smells.

Nothing super exciting through the day. The Alley of Sus threw another red flag, and Olga handled the whole thing by stabbing shit at the far end of the alley with her javelins, then flicking whatever she stabbed onto the pavers in the middle of her unit of Jotnar, who just fuckin’ stomped the shit to death. It looked like most of them had decided to redo their footwear; enough steel to make steel soles for their boots might not have been easy, but they’d all managed paver-soled boots with boulders for heels, and nothing seemed up to arguing with that after being run through then slammed into the ground by Olga.

Got home, got ready for bed, snatched away one of each of Wifes to the Love Shack as Marie tucked us all in. I settled into Marie’s lap, leaning back against her chest, with Saffron in front of me, her head on my shoulder. ”Before we get to your long delayed Penance for dumping Command on me...”

”Wait?” I just sat there, waiting, and she said, ”one final reason for me doing so; I want you to have more evidence that you are more than just a blunt instrument of destruction.”

”You’re risking all those people just to, what, make me feel better about myself?”

She shrugged. ”Minimal risk.”

”How so again?”

”Lancaster. You Commanded there, and despite all your mistakes, most of which were due to incomplete information, I’ll remind you, you did fine. You are not just the Alliance’s Champion, you are the Imperator’s General of choice, my Attack Dog, and I want you to believe that my judgement is not in error.”

I sighed. ”If we can do this without any major fuck ups on my part? I might even start believing that.”

”Good.”

Without warning, I poked her in a very sensitive spot. She squeaked. ”Dammit.”

”Dammit? You poke me there and then you’re the one to say dammit?”

I pouted. ”Yeah. Why the fuck am I getting all hot and bothered about girly type people squeaking?” Saffron tried to answer twice, but couldn’t force words out past the laughter. ”The fuck are you laughing about now?”

Forgive me, My Goddess. Two things, each tickling my humor in turn. First, right about then a pair of very large clawed hands made their presence known between Saffron and I. Very handsy hands. I think Marie likes being called ’girly’ more than either of us realized.

Trying to focus my crossing eyes, I said, ”seems that way, yeah.”

Second, I thought it was common knowledge in your world that Dogs love squeaky toys?