Author's Notes:

A/N: As before, there is a relatively short, squicky scene in this chapter. Nothing too horrific, but I thought I'd drop a disclaimer, just in case.

OP Twilight is OP.

“Seriously, are you okay?”

Sunset’s head shot up and her eyelashes fluttered blearily. What day was it? Who was talking to her? Rainbow Dash, as it turned out. And she was in breakroom at work, slumped against the table.

“Oh… oh, hey,” she mumbled as she pawed at the sleep in her face. “‘Sup?”

“You are, now," her friend grunted, her arms crossed over her chest. "But you were totally passed out, and you should have been back at work like, twenty minutes ago.”

“What?! Oh shit, I— Ughhh, how the fuck did I let that happen? Boss is gonna hate me, or fire me. And if she doesn’t then— ”

“Hey, relax,” Rainbow sighed as she sank into the chair beside her. “I told the boss-lady that you’re on your period still and you need some time.”

“Oh.” Then she grimaced, rubbing at her temples. “Except that’s getting lighter now. So it’s not completely true. Damn, I feel guilty as hell right now.”

Shrugging, Rainbow pulled Sunset’s half-emptied styrofoam container closer and began to pick pieces of chicken out of it. “Don’t. I mean, I’ve noticed how tired you are these past few days; I figured it was just… y’know, mother nature kicking you in the uterus.”

“Well, she did, but I also haven’t been sleeping very well. You didn’t have to cover for me… is she mad?”

“Nah, she gets it.” Licking her lips, she leaned in another inch or so. “But you really do look rough. Like, you have been actually sleeping, right?”

“Huh?” Rainbow didn’t waver, so Sunset shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, I have. Just not as much as I used to. But that’ll change. I mean, the weekend’s coming up, right?”

“Is there anything I can do? I mean, if it’s your assignments, I can maybe do a few of them for both of us, but you shouldn’t have t--”

“No, I… no. I can’t have you doing that.” Clearing her throat, she stared down into her water bottle before taking a huge swig. “I’ll be fine. Seriously. You go ahead and, uh, finish my food. I’ll get back to work.”

“Alright. But you swear to me right now that you’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, okay? We’re not just friends, we’re comrades in arms. Fighting the good fight, n’all.”

Sighing, she nodded her acknowledgement of the offer. She lowered her voice and saluted, intoning, “Talk later, comrade.”

On her way back through the building to the front, Sunset tried to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. Nothing worked; though she knew the real reason she was so tired.

Over the past several nights, Sunset had been spending as much time as possible hanging out with Twilight. Not doing work, and not being involved in the actual point of summoning her and the initial draw of sweet vengeance. They had discussed doing that again, of course, and their past ‘strikes’ against the entitled pricks of her fair city, but so far, no real progress had been made.

Instead, they watched movies and played video games, swapped stories and were generally silly. Most of Twilight’s tales were about past clients and jobs she’d done rather than her own life outside of her current ‘occupation’. That seemed to be off-limits to her, and Sunset was resistant to pushing that boundary.

Still, they had a great time together. Once, toward the end of the evening, they had been playing Borderlands split-screen — with Twilight making remarks about her last experience gaming being the first Sonic the Hedgehog title — when Sunset fell asleep, slumped in the corner of the couch. By the time she woke up in the morning, one of her controllers was partially melted, and the purple goddess was gone. As it turned out, Twilight was very competitive at video games, and not immune to the frustrations that came with losing. Some careful testing would be in order to see if the controller would still be usable. However, she did notice that her Siren character was three levels higher than she remembered.

The hardest thing about keeping up that kind of relationship — other than the inconvenient time constraints, since Sunset’s daytime schedule only made nighttime interaction with Twilight viable — was that she still had no definite answer about whether or not Twilight was actually enjoying or even looking forward to these evenings. Yes, she seemed to be, and yes, she never complained… not even once. But anything she was asked if she liked this or that, or what she wanted to do, it would get turned around on Sunset.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“If that’s something you like, then I’ll give it a shot.”

“Hey, I’m game for anything.”

Each response was designed to give the impression that Twilight wanted to do things, but if you examined them more closely, she was really just being open to Sunset’s suggestions.

They did have fun; Sunset believed that with all her heart. After all, nobody could weather so many nights of inane activities like binge-watching full seasons of The Legend of Korra if they purely hated it without saying something, even if they were some kind of magical being under a summoning contract. However, what she really wanted was to be told exactly what her new friend actually truly desired — with no external influence, no wishes overriding her own. Pure, unfiltered, unedited Twilight.

And that would never happen. The only way to get her there was to summon her, and the summoning ritual clearly put her under some kind of restriction. Something that couldn’t be worked around. She went over it again and again in the book, trying to find some small loophole or an alternate spell. That was it; the one and only spell, and only that way to cast it.

But she had a plan. And later that night, she was going to try it.

“Gonna try what?”

Blinking, she looked up to see Flash standing in front of her, eyebrows raised attractively. “Gonna… what?” she repeated blankly.

“You said you’re gonna try it.” Then he shrugged bashfully, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “Whatever ‘it’ is, anyway.”

“Oh. My. God,” she groaned in complete mortification. She had been talking out loud. She had been walking through the store, talking out loud, about her watching cartoons with a goddess. “How… much did you hear?”

“Just that you’re gonna try something. Anything fun?” Then his expression grew mock serious. “It’s not drugs, is it, young lady? Your mother and I have warned you about this kind of thing!”

“Okay, but you and my mom have a lot of explaining to do, since you’re actually a few months younger than me.”

Laughing, he put his hands in his pockets and walked with her to the register. “Touché, touché. Anyway, I gotta ask if you’re okay. You might not want me butting in or anything, but…”

“Oh, no, it’s cool,” she smiled widely. Flash, of all people, was paying enough attention to her notice that she was losing her grip on reality? Not that she was hiding it very well if she was walking around muttering to herself like someone off their medication…

Well, she’d take what she could get.

“But, um, thanks for checking in. What time is it? I need to be getti— oop!”

The sound of the phone she had fumbled out of her pocket hitting the floor was as loud as it was grating, but Flash was able to swoop down and snatch it after its first bounce so it didn't make things any worse. They both looked at it, relieved to find the screen crack-free.

“Nice, glad it didn’t break,” he sighed gratefully. “Hey… who’s that?”

“Who’s what?” Glancing down at the phone, she saw that her lock screen wasn’t what she been expecting — which was an old shot of Doctor Who and TARDIS, as it had been for more than a year. How had she gone all morning without noticing the change?

Much worse, however, was whom had replaced the Doctor: Twilight.

Her usual pretty, just-shy-of-perfect self, doing her best imitation of a ‘selfie’ as they had been explained to her a day or two before. She didn’t quite achieve full-on duckface status, but that was a good thing in her opinion. Slightly less good was the fact that she was there for all the world to see as the image that first came up when her screen was activated. As luck had it, though, she had glamoured her horn away and her skin to a slightly-more normal shade for the photo.

“Uh… oh, that? She’s, um…”

“Hey, no judgement,” Flash’s laugh was slightly nervous as he handed the phone back. “Somebody pretty special, right? Good for you.”

“No, I’m not one of— I mean, that would be no big deal, right? If I were! But that’s not— I’m not—”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain to me!” Flash’s grin returned, this time fully sincere. “I’m just glad you found somebody. Lucky.” Then he patted her on the shoulder in an all-too-fraternal way. “Back to stocking fun. Talk later?”

And then Flash was gone, and she could feel the weight of rumors already building. No... anything but that! Anything but the one rumor that would actually make her chances with him worse than they actually were. There had to be something she could do to fix this!

But there wasn't. Not right away, at least. Not when she was already late getting back from lunch. Shoulders drooping as if they had barbells sitting on them, she schlepped back to the register.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

As soon as her shift was over, Sunset checked her phone more thoroughly. The home screen wallpaper was the same: the entire cast of Sailor Moon, right where she left them. So why had only her lock screen changed?

Once she got into the camera roll, she couldn’t help but snort in amusement. There were at least thirty pictures of Twilight in there, in various poses and expressions. Also, a few of Twilight’s finger poking Sunset’s own sleeping nose or otherwise tormenting her because she had fallen asleep. Seemed a lot of fun was had in her living room without her being conscious for any of it.

This did answer the question, though, she had ever since the whole Blueblood incident: she could indeed by fully photographed. Of course, there was no telling if it would work when she was in her whole ‘I’m a Smoky, Scary, Shadowy Thing’ or whatever, but that the very least her image could be captured with a digital device when looking somewhat human. Part of Sunset was really glad. Soon, she would have to get a selfie with both of them — maybe a snapchat with ‘BFFs’ underneath, and a few sparkly emojis for good measure.

Or she could stop being a total loser. Might be a way better plan.

Having already finished her most recent assignments — even though they still weren’t up to her usual standards of excellence — she took a nap from then until dinnertime. Luckily, she was actually able to sleep, but it probably had more to do with her complete and utter exhaustion than anything else. Then, immediately after she made herself a grilled cheese sandwich and wolfed it down, she went into the bathroom for what had become her normal routine.

This was perhaps the first time in the history of women that one was displeased to see a dry tampon. Well, not quite dry, but there would be no using it to summon Twilight tonight, that was for certain. Frustrated, she tossed it at the summoning circle and leaned against the counter with one hand.

She had known this was coming. Though she couldn’t bring herself to actually discuss it with the goddess herself, it had been in the back of her mind for a few days. What was she going to do now that she wouldn’t be getting her period again for a few months? Give Twilight up for Lent, or something? It was so unfair that the only good thing that had ever come from menstruation was now being taken from her.

“God — Celestia, whatever your name is — you are seriously cramping my style, here!” she shouted at the ceiling as she pulled her leggings back up. She’d heard Twilight make a reference to ‘Celestia’ as Sunset would ‘God’, and she was willing to bet this being was the head honcho on the other side. “Can’t you just… give me this one?! We both know I don’t have a lot going on in my life, so seriously, I… I don't want to go without being able to summon her for that long! I can’t!”

And then, without warning, the air pressure grew thicker, energy crackling. The lamp overhead flickered. Then everything stilled — but Twilight had still not arrived.

“What the… is that enough?” She glanced at the tampon is disbelief.

There was only one way to find out. Quickly, she lit a few candles and read the words from her paper. Again, the atmosphere shifted — more wildly, more forcefully. Her heart beat in her throat as she waited, wishing that her hopes weren’t burning so bright just for this one thing.

And in a bright flash of light and pop of displaced air, she was there.

“Whoa, that was one rough ride,” Twilight said in a shaky voice, her hair slightly disheveled as she pushed herself to standing from the floor. “You… I mean, what’s wrong?”

But all Sunset could do was throw her arms around Twilight, clutching at her tightly. “I can’t believe you made it… I’m so happy!”

A quiet laugh disguised as a sigh floated behind Sunset as they embraced, one hand gliding up and down her back in reassurance. “Yeah, I’m here. It’s okay.” A few seconds later, she pulled back and patted her cheek. “What, did you run out of ‘ingredients’, or something?”

“Had to happen eventually. Just… after I saw it, I didn’t think it would work this time.”

“Almost didn’t. You did a failed summoning, and then one that worked?”

“Huh? No, I… I don’t think so.” But then she thought back and remembered her outcry. “Well, I was kind of in a mood that you wouldn’t be coming and… I might have… asked Celestia to send you. Is that stupid, or what?”

That made Twilight grow very quiet and still. For several seconds, they simply stood like that, staring at each other as the purple eyes darted between her face and nothing at all. Thinking.

“What? Did I screw up somehow? I’m sorry, it was just desperation, you were g--”

“No, you’re fine. It’s… not a problem.” Then she turned to walk to the living room. “It’s just... Celestia would have the power to do something like that, if she were…” She trailed off, turning on the spot and staring at Sunset. She opened her mouth to so say something, thought better of it, and then sighed, turning around. “But... I’ve never known her to just arbitrarily answer the calls of humans. That’s more Luna’s thing. Or Flurry Heart, if she’s in a ‘mood’. She’s always been kinda quirky.” She paused at the couch, looking thoughtful again. After a few seconds, she shrugged, turning back to Sunset in the doorway. “Oh well, that’s something to deal with back home. For you and me, it won’t really make much difference, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think?! You have to let me know if something happens, okay? I don’t want to get you into trouble — that would kill me!”

“Nopony’s getting into trouble. Relax,” she laughed as she sat down.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Hadn’t had something like this happen before so, if anything, there’ll just be a short inquiry. No biggie.”

“But…” Sighing, Sunset rubbed at her face. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do say so. Hakuna Mataka a little, girlfriend.” Then she sat up straighter and crossed her legs. “Now then, what’s on the agenda tonight? We gonna watch Wreck-It-Ralph, or are you finally taking me to a bar?”

Smiling slightly at the memory, she thought about that for a few seconds. Twilight kept herself busy by leafing through a volume of Love Hina that Sunset planted on her coffee table — Twilight had been steadily making her way through the series, much to her amusement. Then she said something she had been wanting to for a while now.

“Tonight, I want to do what you want to do.”

“Nice try,” Twilight half-laughed as she examined a full-page illustration of a half-naked Makoto nailing Keitaro with her bouken.

“I’m serious.”

“You always try that one way or another,” Twilight told her patiently. “And I always let you know that it doesn’t work that way.”

“This time, it does. My wish, my job for you, is to do whatever you want. What you would ask for if you were the one doing the summoning. Name it, and we’re there.”

The room was very quiet for a few seconds. Too quiet. Frustratingly quiet. Sunset folded her arms over her chest, mostly to make it obvious that she wasn’t going to conveniently ‘forget’ and move onto the next topic. She would wait until Twilight was ready.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can! This is what I want.”

“No, I can’t,” the goddess repeated in a tight voice. “It’s part of the rules of the summoning; while I’m here on your world, my entire purpose is to serve my summoner — the one who ties me here with their life-force. Now, I do get a bit of leeway with how I can do that; wiggle room so I can be more effective. But if I abuse that wiggle room, I get…well, there’s problems that can happen. But that has to be a pretty gross misuse of free— of leeway.” Sunset caught the slip, but didn’t react save for the tightening in her features. Twilight continued, “It’s not completely unfair, but I can’t actually do things I want to do just because I want to — even if it’s what you want me to do for you. Not while I’m here under your summons. There’s no ‘Genie, I wish you free’ kind of thing.”

That clinched it in Sunset’s mind: Twilight was a slave. Well, maybe not a full, one-hundred percent slave-slave… but some kind of indentured servant, at the very least. She clearly had freedom to do what she wanted to back home regardless of her royal status, but the fact of the matter was she was forced to answer summons from random people on Earth at their whim, do whatever they told her to do — with certain limitations, apparently — without question, only to go back home to wait for next time. She could not decide to do anything on her own during her time here, whether it be to use the restroom, or even eat if she wanted; she could only do what she was told.

Most societies would call that slavery. Sunset would call that ‘Grade-A Bullshit’. But… even though it killed her, there was little she could do about it at this time.

A pained smile ghosted across Sunset’s face. “I figured you’d make a movie reference in there somewhere.”

“It’s one of Disney’s best.” When Twilight caught Sunset’s eyes again, her own were bright. Sincere. “But… don’t think that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do. It means the world to me.”

“But it doesn't change anything.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Pulling her knees up to her chin, she said very softly. “Now, can you pick something for us to do so I don’t burst into tears like the most pathetic immortal goddess ever?”

Snorting, Sunset sat next to her on the couch. “Sure. I mean, it’s kinda jank that I won’t see you for a few months, but… maybe we should take care of Snips and Snails tonight.”

“Sorry,” Twilight sighed. “Can’t give you a two-for-the-price-of-one deal, either. Rules are rules.” Then she whispered, “But I wonder why you think…”

The sentence simply died. After a few more seconds, Sunset prompted her, “What? What do I think?”

“Nothing. Nevermind. Anyway, wanna know what I have in store for Snips?”

“Yeah, I guess that’ll do,” she said, trying to reconcile herself to this being potentially their last hurrah for a while. Sir Snails of Doesn’t-Know-How-To-Take-‘No’-For-An-Answer would have to wait until next time.

“Okay. First, We’ll need to get some supplies…”

If there was anything Snips hated, it was mouthy women. Nobody ever asked for their opinions, yet they always seemed to want to spew them forth, unsolicited. Men didn’t do that; they knew that if they didn’t have any opinion on a subject, they should just keep their damn mouths shut.

Why couldn’t women learn their place the same way he had?

Of course, he hadn’t learned it the simplest way. His dad had been free and liberal with the discipline, both with his brothers and his mother. Any of them got out of line, he’d backhand them across the face. Only when they started to get older and the bruises started showing did he start attempting to talk through their problems instead of getting physical first. It was a learning curve for the old man; he came from stock that believed in using fists and direct confrontation. Good old boys. The new, softer world grated on his nerves, but several threats from child services made it clear he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

But their marriage was somehow even more broken when he tried to debut the ‘kinder and gentler’ Daddy. Both of them just argued louder and more irrationally — and she would always start it by demanding more money from his paycheck, or by telling him that he ought to be more ambitious at work, or pay more attention to the kids. Nothing was ever good enough for her. It served her right when he died of a heart attack and left her to raise the boys all on her own, and even moreso when she swerved into oncoming traffic by falling asleep at the wheel a few years later.

Snips’ elder brothers did a fine job of raising him, though, and he made it out into the world just fine. All without some meddling, hen-pecking woman breathing down his neck and making his life a living hell. They really did think they had all the answers.

Just like the woman with the bun in the oven who wouldn’t stop pacing up and down the liquor aisle. She was stupid enough to drink while pregnant, so she deserved it if she ended up with fetal alcohol syndrome or something. To his trained eye, he definitely saw her as the type to think she could do nothing wrong, that any opinion a man offered was obviously not good enough for her. Even though she was about to poison her own baby.

She probably smoked, too.

When she finally brought a six pack of lager up to the counter and set it down, he noticed that she was wearing large sunglasses — probably designer, though he couldn’t be sure. He never paid attention to that kind of stuff. Her actions were nervous, though. Furtive. A scarf held her wavy, light-colored hair down and back, and the shirt that stretched over her stomach said ‘Bundle of Joy’ in yellow print. Yellow, huh? Probably didn’t even ask the doctor what the gender was; she wasn’t using blue or pink. One of those new-age, hippie parents.

He rang her up, and was about to tell her the total when she interrupted, very softly, “And… um, a… a p-pack of cigarettes, too. Please. Um, Pall Malls, if you have them.”

Scoffing under his breath, he reached back for the cigarettes and slapped them on the counter a bit harder than was necessary. Then he rang those up, too, and rattled off the total.

And then waited. She made no move toward her purse, no movement at all. Finally, he had enough of her attitude and grunted, “Ma’am, if you can’t afford your purchase, you’ll have to put something back.”

There was a long pause, and then she finally answered, “... why are you so presumptuous?”

“What?”

“Well,” she went on, still in her same mousy tone that made a vein in his forehead throb, “first you... thought I was a bad person for buying alcohol and cigarettes. And then you assumed that I’m not paying because I didn't have the money.”

He frowned at her. “If that’s not the reason, when why aren’t you paying?”

Her face twitched, her lips drawing a thin line across her face. She seemed to shrink in on herself for a moment, until she straightened again. “Because I’m waiting for an apology.”

Both of Snips’ eyebrows shot up. “An apology for what? I haven’t said anything that I need to apologize for, far as I can tell.”

“You... “ she faltered, but took a fortifying breath. “You sighed about the cigarettes. Admit it.”

“Fine, I will.” Glancing towards the back to make sure Al wasn’t in earshot, he leaned in a spoke his mind. He didn't want to get fired over this — not after what happened a few days ago with that girl on the rag — but the video cameras didn't record audio, and he had enough of her attitude to last him all night. She had earned a little talking-to.

“You walk in here like your the princess of the store, and you’re buying not one, but two things proven to harm that baby you’re carrying. Pretty irresponsible, and pretty disgusting. So yeah, I’m not thrilled about it, but hey, it’s your life and your choices. It just sucks that you’re not thinking about anybody but yourself.”

Nodding slowly, the woman worked her jaw for a moment, and he could see her pale complexion flushing a deeper red as she chewed on his words. He had her now, he thought; maybe this would be the thing that would wake her up and keep her from being a selfish bitch for a change.

“Really?” she finally asked, the first bit of fire in her tone since she first said anything to him. “And it never occurred to you that these things might not be for me?”

Or… not. “Well, not really. You don’t have anybody else with you.”

“That’s true, but I’m also not opening any of this beer and drinking it right in front of you. But you put that assumption on me.”

“Then why the hell are you buying it?” he snapped back, feeling his own cheeks flush. “If you’re not drinking or smoking, have your husband buy his own cigarettes and beer. I mean, you have to realize how this looks.”

“My husband, huh? Good guess.” She nodded again. “I have to buy them for him, because this store is on the way home from work so it’s easier for me, and he doesn’t like it when I forget them.”

Throwing up both his hands, Snips groaned, “Big deal! Not my problem, so don’t blame me for calling things like I see them! You don’t wanna buy this shit, then fine! Don’t buy it!”

“If I don’t buy it,” she responded coolly, her expression impassive from behind her sunglasses. “I don’t sleep very well.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo. You’re so upset that you didn’t do what he wanted that it keeps you awake. You’re not exactly selling your case here, sweetheart.”

“Not because I’m upset — because I’m scared!” She suddenly shouted, ripping off her sunglasses and throwing them at him. And there, hidden underneath her long bangs and her pale complexion, was a large, dark bruise over a brilliant, purple eye. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You’ve never been a woman. You’ve never been scared of a man in you’ve entire life, have you?!”

Snips was beyond shocked. This was… impossible. The face that stared back at him, filled with loathing and fear, wasn’t the face of the woman who had been standing in front of him for the past few minutes. Instead, somehow, he was staring directly into the face of his mother; the one that had shouted at him so many times when she had just weathered another beating from the old man, had screamed at him to shape up, to keep studying, to stop being such a waste of potential. The one he had shoved out of his was every time he stormed out of the house, ignoring the pleas for him to come back and not end up like his father.

The same face that was supposed to be six feet under the ground in a cemetery across town.

“So you can think what you want about me buying cigarettes and beer for him, because you don’t have to live in that situation!” she went on, her bad eye looking even less ghastly than her good one — that one stared at him with unmitigated hatred. “You never have, and you never will, because you don’t have to go through what we to every day!”

Rubbing his eyes, he looked again — and it wasn’t his mother. She did look like her the tiniest bit, but not enough to matter. It had thrown him a lot, but now he was taking exception.

“Now who’s judging who?” he snarled right back, slamming both hands on the counter. “You think I don’t know what that’s like, huh? My dad used to smack me around, too. You know what I did? I fought back! I got tough! That’s what you do, take it and get tougher for it — not complain to total strangers and ask for sympathy!”

It was her turn to look shocked. “You… you’re standing there, telling me that just because you’re a victim that… you totally understand my situation, and I’m just… what, just weak? Is that it? That’s your answer? To ‘toughen up’ and stop being such a pushover?”

“That’s life, lady! So suck it up!”

Tears were swimming in her eyes. She looked like she was on the verge of sobbing outright, but then she swayed, looking quite unlike she did a moment ago — and the color that had been steadily gathering in her cheeks drained away to a dirty gray. “Oh… oh, I don’t feel well. I—I think I need to use your bathroom.”

“Bathrooms are for paying customers only,” Snips said coldly. She was faking, she had to be. Now that he had shot her arguments to hell, showed her that he wasn’t just some idiot she could pull that ‘battered wife syndrome’ crap and get out of everything, she was going for the sympathy card. It wasn’t going to happen.

“You… you really th—” her face contorted in a pained grimace. “Nnng! Fine!” Slapping a twenty on the counter, she started hobbling toward the back. “Take the damn money! Keep it! I just… I need to… I— Ahh!”

Before, he had felt fear when he thought it was his mother back from the dead — even though it seemed ridiculous to him now. But seeing a pregnant woman go down hard on her ass was a different matter entirely. Swearing under his breath, he shot out from behind the counter and leaned over her.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

“My—my water broke!” she sobbed, eyes wide and disbelieving. “This… I can’t b-believe… not here, not in some store! I didn’t—”

“God damn it, now I have to get you out of here!” Eyes flashing all around, trying to alight on something, anything, that would get him out of this jam, he finally just turned to shout down at her, “Just hold that baby in there! I don’t know shit about delivering babies, and I don’t plan on learning today!”

That was when he noticed something odd. Well, odder than a woman bearing down to deliver her baby right then and there in the middle of the store. His knees were tingling where the amniotic fluid had splashed him — and at first, he just felt nauseated at the idea of what was soaking into his shoes and khakis.

But then it began to burn. As it soaked up into the material, it began to feel like he was on fire, itching like crazy but also burning every inch of skin it touched. And the burning climbed up past the soaking areas, spreading all over him. What was going on?

“What the fuck?!” he burst out, limbs going weak. He tried to push up and run away, but found that he couldn't move. He wanted to, needing to try and find a way to rinse it off, but for some reason his body had chosen now to become disobedient. “M-make it stop!”

He looked up, only to see the full weight of her stare boring deep into him, pinning him in place like an insect on a cork board. He shivered, his breath locking in his throat as he fought the urge to throw up all over himself.

“Don’t you want to help deliver this baby?” she demanded quietly, her face a mask of dark rage. “Make sure it grows up right? That it knows anyone weaker than itself is just a piece of shit — that women are weak, and deserve to be mocked, subjugated? To be put in their place?!”

“No,” he stammered, but she was already rolling up her shirt to reveal her round baby bump — only now it wasn’t a baby bump. As he stared, his mouth open in shock, six long, black tentacles peeled out from between her legs and went straight for him, wrapping around his arms and neck, constricting securely. Where there would normally be suction cups in the undersides of the tentacles were claws, razor-sharp and gouging into his flash, slipping under his skin and burrowing like living things, wriggling and piercing.

“Yes, Snips! This is what you think of us — that we’re all monsters! But it’s you who makes us so, you who hurt us until we have no choice but to become them! Isn’t it!?”

“No!”

“Say it!” she snarled, violet eyes flashing a dark crimson.

“Yes!” he screamed back, his voice higher than it had ever been. “I’m absolute shit! I--I do this to women! I abuse them and hurt them! Is that what you want me to say?!”

Forcing himself to stand, the writhing mass of black tentacles pinned him against the wall next to the entrance to the bathrooms.

“It’s not enough! Look at what you’ve turned me into… what you turn all of us into every time you belittle us, curse us, throw us to the ground, take advantage of our bodies because you’ve decided we are weaker than you! You leave us no choice but to prove that we aren’t!”

“Y-you’re not w-weaker!” he rasped, tears finally spilling from his eyes as the burning reached them. “I’m… I’m weaker, aren’t I?”

And he was. Ugly hatred for himself welled up when he thought about how he treated his mother — that yes, she had been a henpecking old nag, but he had pushed her down, called her names that no one should ever call another person, and all the while she had weathered it with unconditional love for her son. And he threw it all away. His father and brothers threw it away, too. He wanted to keep believing that women brought it upon themselves — and maybe they did, a least partly. Or maybe not. But it wasn’t a sign of strength to exert dominance over someone who trusts you, who isn’t trying to exert that dominance back. It’s picking on easy prey.

It was not kindness.

“No… no, I hate you!” he screamed, not sure anymore who he was talking to -- his mother or women in general. “I hate you! You have it so easy, you… you don’t know--”

“Don’t we? Don’t we know what it’s like to be in a position of power?” When he looked back at her, that stare seemed to look directly through him, and at the same time, his mother shook her head sadly as he weeped, and no amount of blinking could make her go away.

“No! Don’t! Don’t be her! Anybody but her — you don’t have the right!”

“I could have snapped your neck, you know,” his mother’s face with that stare told him as she scuttled closer, her arms and legs bent unnaturally as she moved across the linoleum like some kind of horrific, monstrous insect. Her head twitched and lilted as she moved in close. “You were a baby and I could have done anything I wanted to you — dropped you into a few inches of water and you would have drowned... let you swallow medicine until you poisoned yourself. Or just let you scream and cry until you finally stopped. But did I? Did I take advantage of your weakness? Of course not. Because that’s not how you are supposed to treat others.”

She sneered, her bright purple eyes burning into his. “But you did that to me the moment you were old enough to, isn’t that right? You felt entitled to treat me as less than you, even after I spend years — years! — protecting you from the world as much as I could!”

His voice was a reedy whisper and his vision blurred. “No… I didn’t, mom. I didn’t want— you pushed me, I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t. I couldn’t—”

“You couldn’t be a man,” she concluded coldly. “And now, you never will be.”

One of the tentacles lifted to wiggle in front of him, and the bladed suction cups lengthened, sharpened. It began to lower past the others, brushing up against his thigh.

“No, wait, that’s not— Stop! You can’t do this!!!”

“Time to correct my mistake.” Her breath felt like a chill wind against his neck and he let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Then there was crushing silence. His heart was hammering in his throat, made all the more painful from the lingering sensation of squeezing around his windpipe. He waited a few more seconds, anticipating the disfiguring cut, but it never came.

Slowly, he pried open his eye to see that the store was empty. He was back against the door to the bathroom, but nothing was wrapped around him, no burning dampness clung to his legs. The floor was dry, as well. Maybe he had been hallucinating. The beer and cigarettes were gone, too.

Yeah, maybe he had imagined it all, after all, including the woman herself.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, wiping at his mouth. “I gotta quit smoking weed with the guys.”

Unfortunately, when he got back behind the counter he spotted two things that shouldn’t be there. A pair of large sunglasses, and a twenty dollar bill. Swallowing, he gently picked up the money and turned it over. On its back, there were large, black letter printed across it, with jagged, writhing swirls in each corner then reminded him far too much of tentacles.

The message was just as unsettling, and he choked down a scream as he read it:

‘Raise it well.’