Night fell quickly, Noah and I lay curled up together on the couch, watching a horror movie that had him trembling nonstop.
"Are you sure you want to keep watching? We can stop, you know?" I asked softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from his trembling face.
"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up... that's all," Noah said, his eyes never leaving the TV.
I sighed, not believing it for a second. But I knew how stubborn he could be — unless I forced him to stop, he'd keep watching no matter how scared he was.
I shifted my gaze back to the TV, my breath hitched as we watched the main characters in a raw, unrelenting scene. The guy was getting completely dominated by his muscular girlfriend, her powerful thrusts driving him into the mattress with a ferocity that left me
stunned.
"God, I wish that was me and Noah..." l thought to myself, the thought igniting a heat between my legs. My underwear was already damp, my mind spiraling into a vivid fantasy of us fucking like absolute animals.
"Jesus, they're really going at it..." Noah muttered, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen to look at me.
"Yeah... for a horror movie, this could probably count as a porno film in some countries," I said, half-laughing.
"Can we skip ahead? This part's... kinda making me uncomfortable," he said, handing me the remote.
"Yeah, sure," I replied, skipping ahead a good twenty minutes until the movie finally moved past the sex scene.
It wasn't long before Noah was trembling again, his porcelain skin shivering as if he were caught in a snowstorm.
"I-I think I'll stop here..." he yawned, untangling himself from me and sitting up, looking exhausted — like someone who'd just worked a double shift.
He stood up, but his legs gave out beneath him, and he stumbled back onto the couch with a soft thud.
"S-sorry..." he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
I hurried over, slipping one arm under his knees and the other around his back. He felt so light, so fragile, as if the smallest shake could break him. Holding him close against my chest, I carried him toward my room — I couldn't let him sleep alone, not tonight.
By the time I laid him on my bed he was already fast asleep, his face peaceful as I covered him in my blanket.
I slipped into bed beside him, careful not to wake him from his deep sleep.
For a long while, I just watched him — peaceful, unaware. A darker thought flickered through my mind, but I pushed it away with a quiet sigh. "Not tonight... it's not worth it tonight... he's still traumatized from yesterday" I whispered.
That thought was quickly replaced by another, one far more... appropriate for tonight.
"You owe it to me, Noah, whether you like it or not," I whisper, my hands gently cupping his face. I lean in, pressing my lips against his unconscious form, kissing him deeply, tasting the stillness of his breath.
I pull back just an inch, my voice soft but heavy with longing. "This is all I can do for now... I'm sorry, Noah," I murmur, as if he could hear me, as if he's awake and listening. "I hope you're dreaming of me... of us, tangled together like husband and wife... me pounding into you, milking every last drop of your baby batter until my womb is full." I lean in again, my lips crashing against his, the room filling with the wet, desperate sounds of my kisses echoing off the walls.
I worked my tongue against his, claiming every corner of his mouth, leaving no part untouched. Our saliva blended together, becoming one, a messy union that mirrored the way we'd be fused in the near future.
"So... fucking... beautiful." I say in between kisses, this boy was just so perfect...
I pulled away completely, a thin string of saliva connecting our lips before it broke and fell onto the pillow beside us. By morning, no one would ever guess I'd been kissing him.
I wrapped my arms around him, his face resting near the crook of my neck.
As I drifted off, my eyes met his one last time, darkness slowly taking me. I imagined a future with him—one that felt so close, yet impossibly far.
(Meanwhile with Sara)
Operation Ruin Moid was complete.
I was confident I'd reached everyone in the school with the story of what apparently happened. I even sent Noah himself a little message — a warning to come back before things spread any further.
But, of course, there was no reply. He was probably too busy with that sister of his. The same one who took everything from me.
"I'm gonna post about this on Twitter... see if any other nice girl like me has had this happen to her," I muttered to no one — except the picture of Noah lying beside me in bed.
"...And send."
I set my phone down and picked up the photo, staring at Noah's smiling face. My finger traced along his cheek, gentle and longing, as if the paper could somehow be him.
"I love you," I whispered. "You're supposed to be mine."
I was snapped out of my thoughts by a knock on my door.
"Sara! Come and eat..." my mother called.
"Shut up, Mom! I'll be downstairs," I groaned.
Silence followed — thankfully.
Things between us were never the same after I gained sentience, as she liked to call it. She believed males were equal to women, that they deserved things like rights and guns... all that nonsense.
She just couldn't stand that a real woman like me knew the truth — that males were meant to stay home, take care of things, and help make babies.
I slipped on my sandals and padded downstairs, the sharp, greasy scent of pizza curling into my nostrils and filling the house.
Mom had never learned to cook; Dad used to handle it all, whipping up meals every single day with ease, the kitchen always warm and alive with the smell of something good.
But then... she made a mistake. A colossal mistake. One so catastrophic it would crack the fragile balance of our home and leave it in pieces.
After Dad refused to put out for Mom, she decided to take matters into her own hands. I can still hear the moans and screams from that night, echoing in my memory.
The next morning, I saw him, Dad looked drained, broken, his cheeks streaked with dried tears.
That day, he decided to leave. He didn't tell Mom, of course, but she found out eventually... and she didn't take it well.
I haven't seen or heard from him since, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's some whore, selling himself to women in Vegas.
That chain of events twisted Mom's view of men, shaping her into the person she is today. If only she realized she had done the right thing by disciplining him for refusing to give in.
"If Noah tried that, I'd break him so badly he wouldn't ever want to be away from me," I said, biting into a pepperoni slice.
"Who's Noah?" my mom asked, voice small and confused. I blinked — I hadn't even noticed she'd been sitting in front of me the whole time.
"Uhhh... he's my... b-boyfriend," I said, forcing my tone to sound convincing.
"That's wonderful, Sara! I'm so glad you found someone. I was worried you'd be friendless — and boyfriendless — forever," Mom said, beaming.
"You better be treating him right... I can't wait to meet him!"
"Yeah... that'll happen," I said, letting out an awkward laugh as I took another bite of my slice, forcing it down my throat.
"Why didn't you invite him over for pizza? We could've gotten it out of the way today," she asked, dabbing her mouth with a towel, crumbs sticking to the fabric.
I hesitated, chewing on my slice, the grease coating my fingers. "Well... he's kinda... sick?"
"Aw, that's a shame," she said, her voice muffled as she stuffed another bite into her mouth. "Hopefully we get through that soon!" She smiled between chews, oblivious to the storm brewing behind my eyes.
"Sorry we're eating so late," she said, reaching for another slice. "I was stuck at the office earlier, printing pictures of your father and us. He'll come back eventually... he just… needs some time."
The incident had happened five years ago, yet Mom still couldn't let it go. She remained utterly convinced that he simply wanted some time alone, as if the years of absence could be erased with hope alone.
The rest of dinner passed quietly, almost peaceful, the only evidence of the meal being the two slices left in the pizza box.
I thanked my mom and headed straight back upstairs, eager to check on my tweet—and, admittedly, to masturbate to my Noah.
I picked up my phone and let out an audible, "Holy shit," when I saw over a hundred notifications flashing on the screen.
My inbox was flooded with DMs from girls who had gone through the same thing—having their lovers taken from them.
The rest of my night was spent talking about men with the fellow femcels I'd found... and making cum tributes to Noah.
By the time midnight rolled around, my chest was heaving, sweat prickling my skin, and my fingers sticky and stained from the relentless stream of orgasms. Every nerve in my body still pulsed with the memory of him. All I could think about was Noah—his face, his smile, the way he made me feel.
"This... fucking peaks," I murmured aloud, my voice hoarse and trembling. Moments later, exhaustion pulled me under, and I finally drifted into a restless sleep.
________________________________________
Sara texting fellow femcels