Before he even realized it, he was grunting at the extra effort needed to pull the door open, and within three seconds of stepping in, the situation was clear: the interior space of New Corinth Cup was already leaning towards the gravity sink that was the statuesque bombshell of a brunette sitting by the window.
Melissa held the room.
Not in any dramatic way. Not silence, not applause. Just a collective, unconscious adjustment - chairs angled slightly, conversations ending half-finished, eyes drifting back toward the same point near the front.
Melissa had been there a while.
He could tell that before he even said a word to her. There was the sense of occupation, of a space that had already decided to whom it belonged. A low hum of attention, like static, energized the empty spaces between patrons. Phones sat face-up on tables, screens dark but ready. A chalkboard sign near the counter had been erased and rewritten, the daily special now joined by a small, careful note in different handwriting: Please be respectful of all our guests.
Melissa stood the moment she saw him.
Not sprang - she caught herself halfway through that - but she rose fast, knees bumping the underside of the table. Her smile arrived before she could stop it, bright and unfiltered, then softened as she seemed to remember herself. She tucked a strand of thick dark hair behind her ear and let her shoulders settle. She knew she was probably overdressed, still in the tight green dress, bouffed-out hair and killer makeup from the TV interview. She also knew that half of these normals were probably short-circuiting just trying to keep their eyeballs off her tits. But still she tried her best to look like a woman meeting her boyfriend for coffee and not the someone whose pulse had just spiked strong and hard enough to rattle porcelain on nearby tables.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he answered, and the word felt thinner than he wanted it to.
She took a step toward him, then stopped again. He noticed that. Noted it carefully, the restraint.
Up close, the attention was louder. He could feel eyes sliding toward him now, curiosity recalibrating. This wasn’t just her anymore. It was the shape of them together that drew focus - the contrast, the implication. He was under four feet tall at this point, she nearly seven. His head barely reached her hip. Someone near the counter whispered something that sounded like ‘Dr. Vulni’, followed by a small, delighted snort.
Melissa’s gaze went briefly in that direction - no laser beams yet - then came back to him, sharper now..
“How was the walk?” she asked.
“Longer than I remembered,” he said. Honest, mild.
She nodded, resisted a joke about short legs, and from head to toe checked him for injuries. Her eyes took in the lump on his forehead, then dropped to the mask. Both were upsetting but the mask was her bigger concern. She knew he wasn’t sick.
“Oh…” she started, almost sadly, “Is that so you’re protected, so you don’t…get exposed to…my perf-?“
“N-no!” he exclaimed, in answer, fingers finding the oversized cup of the surgical mask across his mouth, nose, cheeks. “In fact, it’s got you in it. I needed it so I could…make the walk.”
“Oh, well then,” she said softly, relieved, suddenly secretly proud. Thoughtful on the supply of pheromone masks at the office, thankful for them but having other feelings as well, Melisss hesitated, then lifted her hand just enough that he could see the question in it. “May I?” she asked, fingers coming to the strap on the right side. She felt the skin of her bosom already pushing a fresh wave of perfume into his air. “You don’t need this anymore.”
He swallowed. Then nodded. “Sure,” he said.
Her fingers were careful as she slipped the loops from behind his ears, slower than necessary, as though moving too fast might startle him or just enjoying the chance to be tender with him. When the mask came away, she saw how he felt it immediately - the shift in his body, the easing pressure behind his eyes. He inhaled without meaning to, and took in her natural scent. A subtle shiver spread through his chest and fluttered his eyes.
Melissa saw that too. He’s a junkie, she thought, for me.
Something in her expression flickered, then tightened, like a hand closing gently around something precious. Her thumb brushed his cheek, once - an unconscious aftertouch - and then she pulled her hand back, deliberately, folding it into the other at her waist, holding the used mask.
“Okay,” she said, a little breathless, extending a hand for him and pulling out a chair, “Come sit.”
“Oh my god,” she heard more than one voice whisper, “Is that-?” She wasn’t sure if he heard it too, the new chatter his appearance had stirred up among these normals. He looked guarded, uneasy, and if he was aware of what an attraction he was…well, it might not help matters.
They took the small table she’d been holding court at, by the window.
“This is the table we sat at for our first meeting, isn’t it?” he commented, an unmissable little smile of nostalgia dimpling his pale cheeks as he removed his jacket.
She giggled, nodded, and didn’t correct him. It was our first date, sweetie. Her now-empty cup sat there, lipstick mark vivid against the rim. Her purse hung off the back of her chair
As Jay eased himself into his seat, and she pushed him in, a barista came over. She watched how the little man’s feet didn’t hit the floor. “Done with this?” she asked, having reached out for the empty coffee cup. When Melissa answered yes, the girl hesitated for a moment then - thinking better of it - used a napkin to pick up the empty cup, holding it as though it might be fragile.
The server asked Dr J. if she could get him anything. He and Melissa exchanged glances.
“No, I’m fine,” he answered. He used to love coffee.
The barista left, returning to her spot behind the counter and there was a brief exchange between the staff as the lipstick-stained cup disappeared, set carefully aside. They wouldn’t be throwing it away.
Melissa had noticed the whole thing, and the corner of her mouth twitched - not quite a smile. But she knew her job here this evening wasn’t to build her fan base or give them relics, so she repurposed herself, leaned forward towards him. She put her elbows on the table, trying for normal and trying not to be too strong. These tables were spindly.
His eyes darted only a second towards her breasts. That was fine, expected. She’d noticed how she’d unconsciously drew in a breath to swell herself, and that he was able to pull his eyes away. Okay for now, probably better.
“I’m really glad you came,” she said, breaking the ice, “I know today, and yesterday…it was…a lot.”
“It was,” he said. These past few months have been a lot. He met her eyes. But let’s just deal with today. “A lot of writing, for Dr. Chou.”
“Yeah, me too.” She motioned to the opened journal on the table, her messy handwriting half-filling one of the pages.
He nodded, noting, appreciating. “I typed mine, into my phone,” he said, “I think it was good to do.” He paused. “But I wanted to talk.”
“I know.” Her voice softened. She so wanted to take his hand. “Me too.”
Around them, the room had shifted again. Phones were no longer pretending not to record. Someone near the door openly angled for a better view. A middle-aged Asian woman crouched slightly as she passed their table, making quick eye contact with Melissa then smiling at Jay in a way that made his stomach tighten.
“You’re adorable,” the woman said, as if it were a compliment he’d asked for, and didn’t move on right away. She lingered, in fact, hand resting a little too long on the back of the empty chair beside them, eyes flicking between Jay and Melissa like she was trying to memorize the proportions. Someone behind her lifted a phone openly now, no pretense at subtlety. The quiet murmur in the room rose half a notch - not louder, just denser, layered with interest.
Melissa saw Jay shift in his seat, his shoulders draw in, reflexive. It was as if he hadn’t realized how exposed he felt until that moment, how public his body was at this scale, at this table, next to her enormousness.
It hit her like a spark under the skin. Not irritation, exactly, no…at least not yet. Something warmer. Something that spread outward from her chest and down her arms, made her spine straighten just a fraction. The room responded to that too. She could feel it, the way attention tightened, the way a few people leaned in unconsciously, like gravity had just increased by a degree.
Part of her noticed that for sure.
Rather, though, than indulge it, or them, she leaned forward, instead lowering her voice, trying to carve out a pocket of privacy by force of intention alone. He was what mattered tonight.
“I’m…really sorry about yesterday,” she said quietly, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t realize how hard I was pushing until after.”
Dr. J blinked. He hadn’t expected that. Not here, so quick.
“I know,” he said. Then, after a beat, “I just - I didn’t know how to say ‘no’ without it turning into, I dunno…something else.”
“I know,” she repeated, softer. Her hand twitched on the tabletop, again wanting to reach for his. Not yet. “I’m trying. I really am.”
Another voice drifted in from behind them. A younger woman this time, laughing, not unkindly. “They’re even cuter in person,” she stage-whispered to her friend.
Melissa’s jaw tightened. She wanted both things - to have his attention and that of the world around her.
She sat back, struggling with the instincts to yield to each of these two impulses and scanned the room now - the phones, the furtive conversations, the way Jay had gone very still across from her. She could feel the pull building again, the easy, dangerous option of letting it happen, of letting the attention bloom and drown out everything else. She could release an onslaught of pheromones and make this place and everyone in it - including him - feel however she wanted. Tired. Scared. Awed.
But this wasn’t what she was here for tonight.
She didn’t want that for him.
Melissa’s chair scraped back.
“We’re going to take a walk,” she said calmly. Not loud. Not angry at the normals; she understood what was happening. She was just certain this wasn’t the place for what she and he had to do. Not tonight, not among them.
She stood, feeling herself tower over the people and more cameras turn her way. ..
She was already reaching for her bag. Jay followed suit, heart thudding, relief and nerves tangling together. As they moved toward the door, a ripple passed through the shop - disappointment, excitement, the sense of something important slipping just out of reach. She made sure he had everything, resisted helping him into his jacket, and ushered him outside.
Outside. Quieter, the air felt cooler. Melissa didn’t touch him yet, but she walked beside him close enough that he would be able to enjoy her warmth and breathe her perfumes like a steady current.
“Office?” she asked, glancing down at him by her hip, satisfied that he was in her presence.
He nodded.
“Okay,” she said, then asking, “You sure you can walk back?” There was something in her voice then - protective, restrained, burning just under the surface. When he nodded again she smiled back and reached into her purse for her keyfob, pressed a button. Down the street behind them, her car’s headlights flashed, once, and its motor purred to life. “Let’s go.”
They started down the street together, the noise of the coffee shop already faded behind them and the Valkyrie Motors Behemoth XX pulling autonomously out of its parking spot. Slipping into the light traffic, it began to follow silently.
They walked for nearly a block without speaking as the city settled back into itself and the coffee shop’s glow receded until it was just another lit window behind them. Traffic passed in low, steady waves. Somewhere a delivery truck hissed to a stop. The sidewalk stretched ahead, wide and faintly uneven, concrete plates patched and repatched over time.
Jay felt it again immediately, the scale of everything. The bike rack they passed - the same one he’d noticed earlier, looking like industrial sculpture at his height. But now its thick black loops, bolted deep into the pavement, looked fragile as she passed it. A mailbox - which to him had loomed, dented and scarred, its slot at eye level - was dwarfed by her.
He walked carefully, matching her pace by force alone.
Melissa noticed, though she didn’t slow. She didn’t need to. Her strides were relaxed, unhurried, her body loose with the kind of confidence that came from knowing the ground would be where she expected it to be. That curb, which he needed to hop onto as an edge he had to mind, was absorbed into her walk without effort. To her, the city felt compressed, manageable. The same street that had seemed busy and impressive three months ago now felt narrow, and somehow like a stage or movie set she could step off of if she wanted.
The Behemoth followed them at a respectful distance, silent and obedient, its headlights dimmed. She didn’t look back at it, but she felt its presence like an extension of herself, just there.
For those moments, the silence was almost comfortable.
Almost.
Jay broke it first.
“I still want you,” he said. The words came out plain, unadorned. Not rushed, not defensive. Just placed carefully between them, like something solid he could stand on.
Melissa’s head turned down toward him immediately, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I thought about leaving,” he went on, already so much unsaid - about what she’d been doing, what she’d done to him, albeit maybe unconsciously. She’d shrunk him, even if it was not her willful intent, and hadn’t admitted it to him until just yesterday. “Really leaving. Not storming out. Not, like, making a point. Just…disappearing, from my life. From you. From all of…this.” He gestured vaguely with one hand, meaning the office, the city, the way the world felt lately. “I needed to know I could.”
But that would be hard for you, for your body, she couldn’t help but think, Would you even be able to survive? She kept walking, hoping her expression was unreadable. But something in her chest eased, and not just because he’d decided not to flee, but because he was telling her the truth.
“I’m not going to leave,” he said. “but I need you to understand that I did think about it.”
“I do,” she said, quietly, “I do understand.” She meant it.
He nodded, eyes on the pavement ahead. “And I need you to know that some of what I like about us…about you…scares me.”
That made her slow, just a fraction. Not enough to be obvious, but enough that he felt it.
“It feels too, I dunno, easy sometimes,” he continued, “The way you make things exciting - thrilling. The fantasies you fulfill. The way you make me feel okay just by being near. I don’t think that’s bad. But it’s a lot. You’re a lot. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I don’t know where my own wants and needs, my own self ends…and you begin.”
He felt Melissa stop walking. Not abruptly - just enough that it took him three more steps before realizing she wasn’t beside him anymore. He turned. She was looking down at him, the city stretched in her wake, her enormous car idling patiently in the street behind her like a loyal animal.
“That’s fair,” she said. No defensiveness, no jokes, just acknowledgement.
She crouched slightly - not to his level, not all the way - but enough to soften the distance between them without erasing it. Enough that he didn’t have to crane his neck to meet her gaze.
“I don’t want that either,” she said. “I don’t want you, like…hollow. I want you choosing.” I want you choosing ME.
He searched her face, looking for the catch. There wasn’t one. Not yet.
They stood there for a beat, the city moving around them, unaware.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Then…there’s some stuff I need to tell you. About why this hits the way it does for me. It’s about my past. My, uh…mother.”
Her eyes warmed - and not triumphant, not possessive the way he may have feared. Just...intent.
“Let’s keep walking,” she said gently, surprising not just him with how even her voice sounded, “You can tell me when you’re ready.”
He’s going to tell me about his mother…
She straightened, waited for him to fall back into step with her on the sidewalk, and then they moved on together - side by side, not touching, the space between them deliberate and alive as they made their way back to where they first met, the offices in Far Horizons.
Retail buildings and commerce parks rose ahead of them, glass catching the last of the light. Neither of them said anything else yet. They didn’t need to. He knew she was waiting for him to explain. This time, the silence felt thinner - not lighter, but stretched taut, like something waiting to be named, maybe pierced. The city, at this point in November, was well into evening, lights overhead having flickered on one by one.
Jay took a breath that went deeper than the last.
“My mom,” he said, and stopped. Tried again. “I don’t really remember her.”
Melissa stayed quiet. She didn’t turn. She didn’t fill the space. She knew better, because this was what she wanted. She’d wanted this out of him for a long time.
“She, um, died when I was two, close to three,” he went on, deciding earlier that he had to say something - finally - to Melissa about his early life. Even if it wasn’t everything, the whole truth. The real truth. Neither he nor she had, maybe strangely, ever gone too deep into their own personal family histories. But here it was. A beginning, at least. “I was too young for any real memories of her. Just impressions. I’ve seen photos, so I feel like I can picture her. But it’s more a smell, y’know? The sense of being held. Or maybe that’s something I made up later. I don’t know.” He gave a small, uncertain shrug. “People tell you things about someone long enough, eventually they feel like memories.”
He looked down as they walked, watching the cracks in the sidewalk pass beneath his small feet.
Melissa was letting him talk.
“My dad didn’t…handle it well,” he said carefully, “I don’t…it’s not like I blame him. But he couldn’t do it. So I went to my grandparents. My mom’s parents. I don’t know what eventually happened to him.”
Melissa felt something settle into place. Not satisfaction, not pity, exactly. Something like a new understanding.
“They were kind,” he said. “They were safe. But they were old. Tired. Everything was quiet, careful. No one really…well...” He paused there, left something unsaid. “And then they died too. Not long after.”
“Aww,” she pouted. That’s sad.
He let out a breath that sounded like it had been waiting years to leave his chest. “After that it was my uncle. He did his best. Gave me a roof, rules, structure. He wasn’t unloving. He just wasn’t…warm.”
Melissa could hear what he wasn’t saying. What had never been there.
“So I grew up okay,” Jay continued, “No horror stories. No big trauma anyone could point to. Just a lot of…gaps.” He searched for the word. “Empty space where something was supposed to be when I was a kid.”
You were just a baby, she silently keened, barely able to keep her lamentation to herself, You poor thing.
They passed a row of parked cars. His reflection flickered in their windows, small and moving, beside her long, steady stride. He’d become quiet, but Melissa said something sweet, something supportive, something empathetic. And then urged him to continue.
“I learned to take care of myself early,” he said, “To not expect much. To be self-contained. Independent.” He gave a faint, ironic smile. “People praise you for that, when you’re a young man.”
Melissa’s jaw tightened. As much as she wanted to hug him she kept her hands loose at her sides.
“But I think,” he said slowly, “that part of me never stopped wanting someone else to take over. Just for a while. To be bigger than me. To decide things. To make the world feel…softer. To feel…held. It’s maybe why I’m…I dunno. The way I am. Why I look for…women like you.”
There it was. Not stated outright. Not named. But he was talking about his…preferences, his penchants. Some might say his weaknesses. Now she was fighting with every fiber of her superhuman being to not absolutely melt.
“And when that shows up,” he added, “when someone offers it - even unintentionally - it feels…right. Like something clicking into place that was always missing.”
Melissa felt it, in her bones - the clarity of it. How cleanly he fit into the shape she could offer. How easy it would be to step fully into that role, the missing mother. She could make him never feel the lack again. I could make it so nice, Jay…
But she did not interrupt. She did not even reassure. She listened, for now, and memorized.
“I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong,” she said finally, “I think you’re responding to something real.”
He nodded, relieved by the way she said that. Melissa may not be the smartest girl, but she knew, sometimes, what people needed to hear. She saw people well. She was easy to talk to.
“I just need to know,” he said quietly, “that if I lean into this, if I choose you…it’s still me choosing. Not some pheromone that comes out of your body, and not just, I dunno…old hunger finally finding food.”
That landed. In her, it landed in her chest. A warmth and swelling came to her breasts and she bit her lip not to say anything as they walked on. She tried to look into the distance rather than at him, for fear that she would pull his face to her nipple. Soon I could make it so you never go hungry again. Far Horizons was now there, the office building close enough to be seen. Soon they could be alone, but she knew for now she had to restrain herself. The conversation wasn’t finished, but it had crossed the line into truth. And it was so hot.
They turned off the main sidewalk and onto the long driveway that led back toward Far Horizons. The streetlights gave way to softer ground lighting, embedded along the curb, the building ahead of them rising quiet and familiar. The city noise thinned. Tires whispered past on the main road, and the Behemoth crept behind them like a patient beast; it would know where to dock. But here it was mostly wind, distant traffic, the low electrical hum of the place where they worked - and Melissa’s heels, clicking on the pavement.
Jay spoke again before the silence could reset itself.
“I see where you’re going,” he said.
Melissa didn’t pretend not to understand. She glanced down at him, expression unreadable, but something in her posture lifted - not arrogance, not exactly. Maybe recognition.
“Do you?” she asked, with a sudden depth in her voice that surprised him.
He nodded. “Y-yeah. I mean, I don’t know all of it,” he said, as he looked up at her, at a woman he knew might be able to lift any of these cars, or blow one over with her lungs, “I don’t understand it and I don’t think you do either. But we both know, I think, that it’s bigger than…this.” He motioned between the two of them, vaguely suggesting their couplehood. “Bigger than, well, ‘us’.”
That landed in her chest in a different way, with a quiet, satisfying weight. Pride stirred - sharp and bright but also with it something darker, something that whispered ‘See? You could do it without him. And he knows it too’. She pushed that thought down, hard enough that it hurt.
“I also know,” he continued, carefully, “that I can’t stop you. Even if I wanted to…”
She paused, though kept walking. He paused, their whole world paused. But then he spoke.
“...and I don’t think I do.”
She slowed her pace, just slightly, to let him feel that she was listening, and that she’d heard what he’d just said. Because that was important. She was hanging, now, on his every word, what he’d say next, and that must have been clear as day. If you don’t want to stop me..? she silently urged him…
“I want to help,” he said, as if finishing her thought, “if there’s room for me. As me.”
She stopped walking then. Not abruptly - but deliberately enough that he felt it and turned to face her. The building loomed behind her now, glass and steel catching the ambient light, her reflection layered faintly over it.
“What does that mean?” she asked, quietly. She wanted to hear him say it.
He took a breath. This part mattered.
“It means,” he said, choosing his words with care, “that I’m willing to give some things up, if it means being able to love you and making you - and the girls - stronger. I already have, given up a lot. I know that. Autonomy isn’t…binary. But I’m all in, I want to be part of this, I want to be on your side, and by your side as you become whatever it is you’re getting to be. I want to help you if I can. I want us to be together…on a couple of conditions.”
If she had the power of flight she’d have been able to join her head up there in the clouds. Her mighty heart, a machine unlike any the world had ever seen, pounded pounded pounded in her bosomy chest. But she was able to manage to keep herself composed. She didn’t want to ruin this; she knew how she could get. Conditions? I don’t know if I like that word.
“Tell me,” she said, simply.
“I need to keep my head. My thoughts. I need to know that when I say ‘yes’, it’s because I want to. Not because something in me was nudged or softened or rewritten without me knowing.”
He didn’t accuse her. He didn’t harden his voice. He was asking.
She nodded, eager to hear more, urging him to continue. This doesn’t sound hard…
“I don’t need, like, isolation. But I need psychological autonomy,” he clarified, immediately seeing the knit in her brow. Big words. “Just…truth. Transparency. I need to know my choices are mine.”
Maybe Melissa did not have the vocabulary to understand every word he said, but nothing in his meaning was lost on her. He didn’t want her to take over his brain and he wanted to be the boss inside his own mind. She could, she guessed, understand that. Fine. But more importantly: He wants to help me grow?? She felt the thought of that as warmth again - even stronger now - spreading through her chest, down into her stomach, into her legs. The instinct to claim, to soothe, to promise everything he needed right now? That urge pressed hard against her ribs.
“And, besides all this, I know how your powers are developing,” he continued, “And I’m…concerned.”
More conditions? She held her tongue, listened.
“I can see it every day, how you’re changing. How you’re growing. What you’re growing into. There’s no telling what you’ll be in six months, let alone a year, five years…”
Her pride, ego, sense of conceit and confidence were no small things, and they began to swell as he fed them even as she knew he had ‘concerns’. Again she did her best to keep from saying anything, only nodding, agreeing. She was starting to see where he was going.
“I think I want to make sure that you…listen to me, that you hear me, that I can be a voice guiding you so you don’t become…”
“Something ugly?” she finished for him, knowing.
“Yeah,” he agreed, happy she had the word for it, so he didn’t have to say it himself, “And if I can have that, that confidence that you’ll listen to me and still let me be ‘me’ along the way…I want to help. I want to help you become everything you can.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she looked back, over her shoulder, at the building. The place where it all will happen, the place where we’ll do it together. Her heart was swelling into something that felt golden, and filled her with golden warmth. Then she looked back down at him.
“We’re here,” she said...
to be continued in Post 586 part B
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