Common Sense Altering System

Ray’s breathing had almost evened out when the words just fell out of his mouth, no warning, no buildup.

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Milady froze. For the first time that night she didn’t get a preview. No sneak peek inside his head. The question hit her raw.

She made a face like she’d just stepped in something. "Ew..."

She was already lining up the insult, ready to tear into him, call him pathetic, call him a lonely little animal trying to put a pretty word on a cage.

Ray beat her to it.

"Sorry. I don’t even know why I asked that."

The silence that followed was worse than any laugh. Inside Ray’s head there was nothing. No running commentary, no guilt loop, no half-formed thoughts she could snatch. Just empty.

Milady went still. That emptiness threw her off more than the question itself.

Ray sat with it. In the quiet he actually understood what just happened. If he didn’t let anything talk in there, she couldn’t read him. He was already doing it a little—holding the feeling instead of narrating it. And he could tell she didn’t like that. She felt off-balance.

He opened his mouth again.

"Can you act normal for a second? I’m tired. I just felt that heartbeat like I was back in high school. That was nice for me. You can roast me all you want, I don’t care."

He meant it. Whatever she did next, whatever this place was, he was already past fighting the shape of it. He’d said the dumb thing, felt the dumb rush, and now he was just sitting there with his pants still not fully fixed and the dark pressing in.

Milady didn’t answer. She just stared at him.

Ray looked back. "What?"

Her voice came out flatter than usual.

"Calm? Your dick’s been twitching every time you talk."

Milady’s voice flipped with no warning.

"Why doesn’t anybody want me?"

Ray frowned. The shift was too sharp, too sudden, like she’d just changed the channel in his head.

Then he caught it. She wasn’t actually breaking. She was playing sad on purpose, watching what he’d do. A cheap little prank to see if he’d scramble.

Ray couldn’t take that shit anymore.

He stood up. His pants slipped lower as he moved. The fabric still covered him, but not enough—his dick was obvious behind it, hard and just sitting there.

He walked closer to wherever the hell she was and laughed once, short and tired.

"You see? You wanna do this to me again? I don’t even wanna touch you and I’m horny as hell. Stop with the random teasing and get to the point. Why you helping me? What’s your actual goal? And one more thing—no master, no damn slave. You wanna make me crazy, then let’s go crazy all the way. Die all the way."

Milady just stared at him. Confused now. The act slipped.

Ray had already gathered whatever courage he had left. He felt it settle in his chest: whatever. Even if he looked like a clown standing there with his pants half down in an empty shop-house, it was fine. He was done pretending this had rules.

Then Milady’s voice cracked and she started crying.

"Why are you giving up? Why? You’re supposed to fight. Joke with me. Don’t be like this."

Ray looked at her like she’d grown another head.

"The hell is wrong with you?"

Milady didn’t fake it this time. The crying came out ugly and real, like somebody else had shoved her out of the way and taken the wheel.

She looked at Ray like she didn’t even know the joke anymore.

"Help me," she said, voice small and wrecked. "Kill me. Please."

The words tumbled out fast after that.

"My real name’s Prilly. I got more than one of me in here. I can’t do this chaos anymore. I can’t stand the fucked-up memories the other one keeps dumping on me. I actually wanna die. I’m opening the window. You don’t wanna help, I’ll do it myself."

She was already moving. Petite frame, too light, heading for the window like the floor didn’t matter.

Ray’s pants were still halfway down, hanging loose. He didn’t even stop to pull them up. He just lunged, grabbed her around the waist before she could tip out, and yanked her back hard. She almost went. He dragged her against him and locked his arms around her, one hand slapping over her mouth because she started screaming.

He was terrified somebody outside would hear it and think he was attacking a girl in an abandoned shop-house.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up—"

He held her there, breathing like he’d just run, her back pressed to his chest, his dick obvious against her through the loose fabric because he hadn’t fixed his pants.

Then it flipped again.

The crying cut off. The body in his arms went still in a different way. Same petite girl, different person sitting in it.

Milady was back.

She didn’t even take a second to look around.

"Your dick’s pressed against me, huh?"

Ray let go of her like he’d been burned.

"Sorry."

He took a step back, still not bothering to pull his pants up all the way. Then his face hardened.

"You stole somebody else’s body."

Milady’s head snapped toward him. The cute act was gone.

"That thing just now was a parasite. I’m the original. Me."

Ray didn’t blink.

"But Prilly."

Milady flinched like he’d slapped her.

"Don’t say that name."

Ray stared at her. Slow. Like something finally clicked.

"Wow. Sensitive about a pretty common name, huh? Prilly."

He said it again on purpose, watching her.

Milady grabbed her own head with both hands and dropped.

Ray pointed at her on the floor.

"You try turning me into a slave again, I’m saying that name till—"

He didn’t finish.

Pain ripped through his skull first. Milady hit him before the last word left his mouth. Ray’s knees gave out. Everything went black.

When he came to he was sitting on the sofa. Pants still hanging off his hips. Something warm was moving on his lap.

A naked girl. Petite. Already on him, grinding her pussy against his dick like she was trying to start a fire.

"You—what are you?"

The girl on him looked up. Softer face. Softer voice.

"I’m Prilly."

No sharp edges. No mocking.

"You can fuck me right now. If Milady wakes up, just keep going."

Ray shook his head. "I don’t—"

She didn’t wait for a debate. She was already wet. She shifted, lined him up, and the head of his dick pushed in.

Tight. Hot. Too sudden.

Ray sucked in air through his teeth.

Prilly kissed him messy and whispered against his mouth.

"Fuck me hard. Or I scream right now."

Ray froze for half a second. He didn’t want that noise. Didn’t want anybody outside thinking he was hurting a girl in an empty shop-house. And her pussy was still a pussy—tight, wet, already gripping him.

That was enough.

He grabbed her hips and started slamming up into her. No warm-up. Brutal from the first stroke. The sofa creaked under them. Her body bounced on his lap every time he drove in. He held her down and fucked her like he was trying to knock the air out of both of them.

..Ray stopped fighting it.

The tight wet heat around his dick was winning. He started enjoying it for real, grip getting rougher, pace getting meaner.

"Turn around," he said. "Doggy. I’m teaching this body a lesson. It’s been looking down on me too damn long."

Prilly didn’t argue. She climbed off him, dropped onto her hands and knees on the sofa, ass up, back arched like she’d done this before. Different from Milady. Softer voice, sluttier body language, no games—just presenting.

Ray got behind her, shoved his pants the rest of the way down, and slammed back in.

Deep. Hard.

He held her hips and started pounding.

"Didn’t you wanna die a minute ago?"

Prilly moaned into the sofa cushion, pushing back on him.

"I got a better idea. We share memories. Every time you fuck this body, she feels it too. She’ll remember your dick. She’ll remember you humiliating her. That’s worse than dying."

Ray’s jaw tightened. Then he just went.

Plap plap plap.

The sound filled the empty shop-house. Skin hitting skin. Sofa creaking. Her wet pussy taking every brutal stroke while he drove into her from behind like he was trying to leave a mark Milady couldn’t forget.

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