A Normal Grocery Run During Which No Domestication Occurs Chapters 3 - 5

Ch 3.

Any remaining delusion that the interior of the affini grocery would be anything but dazzling was immediately shattered the moment Curbita led Irene through the door. For a moment, Irene had to wonder whether the affini had found a way to make buildings bigger on the inside; then she realized that she probably had just underestimated how far back the building extended. There was also the matter of the aisles and shelves being scaled up to affini height, which created the illusion that Irene was smaller than she really was. Either way, as far as she could glimpse in any direction were shelves upon shelves fully stocked with food, along with the bustle of countless humans and affini wandering about.

Taking a few steps forward, Irene gawked at the sight before her; she’d never seen so much food in her entire life, and this was just one floor. Wordlessly, Curbita slid up beside her, pushing some sort of shopping cart, only it was—”of course you made floating carts.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Curbita giggled.

“I’m glad we see eye to eye! Floating carts are just far more efficient, their propulsion keeps them from getting heavy so nobody will have a hard time pushing them, they can be set to any height making them easily usable by any species—also making them easy to maneuver over or under someone else’s cart if there is a block in the aisle—and to top it all off, they’re powered by the happiness the food they carry brings cute sophonts like yourself!”

Irene narrowed her eyes. “You’re just messing with me now,” she murmured, at least seventy percent certain Curbita was joking.

Another giggle, and Curbita ruffled Irene’s hair, causing the girl to blush and squirm. “You caught me, dear! That sort of technology is still in the early stages of development. Now then, let’s get to it! What sort of food would you like? We’ve got a whole affini-sized cart to fill!”

The cart really was massive, there was no way Irene was going to be able to carry that many groceries home. “Well I um, I’m not really sure where to start but I really only need a week or two’s supply of food, I’m sure by then I’ll have figured something out,” she explained.

All it took was a handwave, and apparently any and all notion that Irene would be allowed anything but the greatest of indulgence and excess was completely cast out. “Nonsense, little flower, I will personally assure you get all the food you want back to your home. Now, surely there’s something you’ve been wanting lately. A craving? A little indulgence? You’ve certainly earned that much for yourself after how brave you were to come ask for help.” The notion that asking for help was bravery struck Irene as so strange. Truly the most alien thing of all about the affini wasn’t their size, their biology, their appearances, even their unparalleled technological superiority; it was just how much value they seemed to place in the worth of every life. That alone was honestly enough to get Irene blushing all over again. She barely knew this plant and yet Curbita seemed so intent on ensuring she was okay.

“I well, um… I suppose if I were to really indulge myself, the thing which made me decide to come here in the first place was I saw this article with a really tasty looking pizza,” Irene explained.

Excitement lit up all over Curbita’s face. “How lovely, dear! I’ve heard that’s quite a popular Terran comfort food. Do you fancy yourself much of a cook, dear? Depending on how much effort you want to put in we have a few different options.”

“Well, I’m not bad at making food but um… I guess I’m maybe not always the best at mustering up the motivation to actually do the work.” Irene blushed; how could she not feel inadequate in the shadow of someone so competent and willful?

“Of course, Irene. There’s nothing to be ashamed of; lots of humans struggle with such things. In that case we should stick to pre-prepared meals!” Gesturing for Irene to follow, Curbita set off toward the right side of the store. “We’ll want to head downstairs; that’s where they keep the meal kits and pre-packaged meals. As far as I’m aware they make things like raw pizzas fresh every day from scratch for people to take home and bake in their ovens—” Curbita trailed off for a moment and gave Irene a rather intense, almost concerned look. “You wouldn’t happen to have one of those old Martian ovens, would you? I’ve heard they can be quite dangerous.”

Perplexed, Irene shook her head. “No, Duri kind of has its head way up its own ass. The old government didn’t like relying on other colonies or Terran for their goods. All our ovens are made on world.”

Curbita seemed to visibly relax at that. “That’s good to hear. Anyway, there’s also the option of frozen pizzas, for if you want something that will last long in the fridge, though I’ve heard fresh is always better. Either way I’m sure they are miles ahead of whatever your old Duri grocery… stores—” she practically spat out the word, her entire body stiffening in distaste, “—used to carry. I’m sure the selection is better as well, we try to make meal kits and ready-made meals to match as many of the different Terran cultures we stock ingredients for. That being said, from what I’ve heard we still haven’t really figured out your local erm… ‘Duri cuisine.’”

Irene giggled, “oh that’s not you, that’s us. Duri food just sucks. The planetary government has always had this ridiculous ego. Imagine bullish American Exceptionalism mixed with the holier-than-thou, unjustifiably smug incompetence of the British, then wrap that up in a politically irrelevant colony. That’s Duri identity in a nutshell. They’ve always had this very sad one-sided rivalry with Terra ever since the Accord rejected their petition to rename Duri to ‘New Terra’ a few years after the colony was founded. Ever since it’s been all ‘Duri Pride’ all the time, right down to completely throwing out thousands of years of culinary tradition, culture and science to start from scratch and make a ‘superior Duri cuisine.’ They have no fucking clue what they’re doing, though. No matter how much they incentivise local food, everyone but the most diehard Duri Colonionationalists prefer Terran food.”

For once, Irene completely understood the perplexed look on Curbita’s face. The affini looked like she had been anticipating the punchline of some joke, only to grow increasingly baffled as Irene’s explanation continued without a hint of irony. “Well then, I can’t say I understand this bizarre human obsession with claiming superiority over another person based entirely on what patch of dirt one was born on, but I suppose this is the exact sort of thing we’re here to fix.”

To be honest, Irene was still a little hung up on the fact that apparently the affini prepared meals from scratch daily in their fucking grocery… not stores. Grocery depos? Still, it was just another in a long list of small surprises which turned out to completely be on brand in hindsight. The pair descended into the lower floor of the grocery—which Irene hadn’t even been aware of during her initial count of how many floors the place had—and, just as Curbita had suggested, the place was lined with refrigerators all holding a variety of different meal kits and fresh-made meals. At the far end of the floor was a kitchen proper with hot storage for other fresh meals. What surprised Irene most wasn’t just the volume, but the variety. Irene hadn’t really put much thought into what Curibta had said about there being fifty different styles of terran cuisine stocked comprehensively in the store, but now that she saw it all laid out for her it was a dazzling sight. Just about every type of cuisine Irene could think of was accounted for, including several she’d never heard of, and that was just the ones they considered their stock to be ‘comprehensive’ to.

Twenty minutes later, Irene had enough food to eat three—relatively healthy—easy to prepare square meals a day for the next entire month. She wasn’t even certain the food would keep that long, but Curbita had insisted that affini food preservatives were effective, completely non toxic and tasteless. At that point Irene insisted she had enough, to which Curbita responded by indicating that their cart was far from full, and surely Irene would want, “some little snacks and treats.” As such, she begrudgingly allowed herself to be led back up to the second floor of the megagrocer, and was told to just take whatever caught her eye.

The place was, as far as Irene was concerned, an offshoot from some quite literal paradise. They had literally anything and everything she could think of, along with an incredibly intuitive and convenient digital inventory tracking system that allowed anyone to look up whether certain goods were stocked, and if so, where to find them. One section of the store was literally an entire room bigger than her apartment full of shelves stocked top to bottom with fermented goods, organized not only by type but by how many days they’d been fermenting.

The bakery was full of all manner of delicious looking breads, cakes, pies and other pastries. Information kiosks throughout the building had tips for preparing, experimenting, pairing, cultural histories of the products, and even algorithm-driven food recommendations based on what the users favorite foods were. Really though, despite all the height of options, what Irene really wanted, was just some classic Terran mass produced junk food. Or, at least, the affini prettied up version of that. So, after getting the cart mostly full, Irene set off for the snack aisles.

It was there, amongst bags of chips and little boxes of cookies, that Irene glimpsed her first real interaction between a floret and her affini up close. A lovely young woman in a pretty, flowing dress of greens and purples snatched a box of something from the shelf right next to Irene. She held it up to her face, grinned, and clutched it with both hands as she half-ran, half-stumbled toward the approaching shape of a tall affini. “Mistress!” the girl cried. “Can we get these please?” she begged, staring up at her owner pleadingly as she thrust the box forward.

With a chiding little chuckle, the affini ruffled her pet’s hair—which was a strangely familiar looking display, now that Irene thought of it—and crouched low to look her human in the eyes. “Remember what I told you, precious? You don’t need to worry about taking too much or what you can afford to have anymore. The only thing that matters in your food selection, is your continued health, which is my job to worry about. You can take whatever treats you like, I just may or may not limit your access to them depending on how much you indulge yourself.” Something about the patient, empathetic affection in the affini woman’s voice struck Irene. Of course, like most humans, Irene knew all too well the struggle of wanting something she couldn’t have. This woman’s owner though, her words seemed so carefully chosen to both empathize with, and excise that worry entirely.

There was also, of course, the matter of just how much love and affection, mixed with benevolent condescension she spoke with. It sent tingles all over Irene’s body and, undeniably, sounded very similar to the tone Curbita would use when addressing her. The connotations there were impossible to ignore; Irene tried to anyway. Just then, a leafy hand came to rest gingerly on Irene’s shoulder, causing her to jump and drop a box of cracker’s she’d forgotten she was holding. Irene whirled around and stared up into Curbita’s apologetic face.

“Oh, Irene! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You just seemed very distracted, and you were gripping that box so tightly you’d started to bend the cardboard.” With a single smooth motion, Curbita scooped up the box and examined it a little, then smiled to herself and dumped it in the cart. “Was something wrong, dear?”

Shit, she’d caught on. “Well, no, nothing’s wrong. I just was watching that affini and pet pair over there and was… thinking,” Irene explained.

“What were you thinking about?” Surprisingly, Curbita’s tone was absent of it’s usually flirty, suggestive tone. Her voice was serious, though not grim, simply patient and curious, perhaps even a little hopeful.

Shrugging, Irene hummed for a moment, trying to actually get to the core of what had captivated her so. “I guess it’s just, the whole interaction was this intimate microcosm of everything I’ve seen so far. I mean, look at this place.” Irene swept her hand around the grocery in a wide, open handed gesture. “Your kind did all this and so much more just for us. We went to war with you, our soldiers try to kill you and in return you build us luxury homes and free grocers. You dedicate years of your lives to take care of us just for fun, I don’t get it.”

Curbita gave a thoughtful little smile, and extended a vine to squeeze Irene’s hand gently. “We get a lot out of it, little Irene. It’s easy to focus on your kind at its worst when you live in the midst of that; the Affini Compact believes in bringing out the best in everyone, though. The best humanity has to offer us is worth the effort. And yes, it is a lot of effort at times, taking a pet can be especially involved, but all the more rewarding for it. That is, however, why most affini I’ve met, at least, keep only one pet, and it’s uncommon—though hardly unheard of—to see someone with more than two.”

Suddenly Irene felt a bit of tightness in her core, as a question she couldn’t keep herself from asking boiled up from her gut. “And you, do you have a pet right now?”

With a little giggle, Curbita wriggled her vines, dismissing the notion. “Not currently no. Actually we’ve generally made it a policy to only station affini without pets near the city border. Both because it can be an involved job with long hours—which would cause a great deal of separation anxiety in hypothetical poor cuties left at home missing their owners—and because this way if anyone winds up defecting there are affini able to dedicate a lot of their time to helping them adjust. As an added bonus, if the defector and their new friend grow especially close, it’s that much easier to just take them as a pet.” The suggestiveness was back in Curbita’s voice, not that Irene needed it to notice the implications. If Curbita expected a verbal response from Irene she wasn’t getting it any time soon. Luckily the deep blush across her face told the affini all she needed to know.

Mercifully, Curbita decided to move on, taking a moment to look over the cart's interior, before breathing a satisfied hum. “Well then, darling, while we could probably keep filling up to the point where our cart is quite literally overflowing, I think I’ll give you a bit of leniency; is there anything else you can think of which you might want?”

Choice paralysis was certainly the sort of thing Irene could understand a person experiencing when faced with all this, but for whatever reason she just didn’t seem to care. Part of her was just growing increasingly hungry and eager to get home and gorge herself. But also, at the end of the day, she could come back whenever she wanted, couldn’t she? In a month or so the affini would probably have integrated her part of the city into the Compact, and she’d be able to make grocery trips like this one whenever she wanted, or just run out to grab whatever snacks she was craving. Maybe Curbita would even come along with her for old times sake. Satisfied, she looked up at Curbita and gave an affirmative nod.

“Wonderful!” Curbita cheered. “In that case, why don’t we get these all bagged up for you so we can take them home.” Again, Curbita took charge, leading the way confidently as Irene hurried behind her. In place of a checkout the grocery just had a dedicated area for people to bag their goods, with a few dedicated affini lingering around eager to help anyone who needed it. Irene tried to insist she was perfectly capable of bagging her own groceries, Curbita went ahead and did all the work anyway. Admittedly she did it much faster and more space efficient than Irene would have regardless. Was there really anything these plants couldn’t just completely outclass humans at with casual ease?

Before she knew it, Curbita was gesturing for Irene to follow her back out, and Irene found herself outside in the warm early afternoon air once more. As she slid alongside Curbita and looked up to her, the affini gave her a wide smile, eliciting a feeling which Irene was growing all too familiar with. She took a moment to calm her breathing, heart hammering in her chest, then looked about. Fortunately, despite how much her once familiar surroundings had been transformed, Irene was still able to orient herself and determine the way home. She took a single step forward, then realized something which, in hindsight, should have been incredibly obvious. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Curbita, easily carrying nearly a dozen bags with her myriad of vines. There was no fucking way Irene would be able to carry all that back to her apartment.

Ch 4.

Irene couldn’t help but wonder if she’d backed herself into a corner. Then again, she couldn’t imagine a situation in which Curbita allowed her to leave behind any of the goods she’d taken from the grocery. As such, she was kind of against the wall on this one. At the very least she’d managed to put her foot down when the affini woman had once again suggested that she simply take up residency in one of the available hab units. In all honesty, Irene hadn’t even been entirely certain why she’d said no. If she had to guess, things had just become too real in that moment. All of her doubts which had been temporarily stifled by the frankly awe-inspiring sights of an affini run city had come rushing back up. Perhaps part of her was simply saying no just to be certain she still could.

What had been even more difficult, though, was standing her ground when Curbita commented that, if Irene wanted, there was also plenty of room in her own hab unit. The comment left little up to suggestion, Irene wasn’t dense enough to not notice the plant had spent the better part of their time together flirting with her. This, however, was something else entirely. She’d needed to remind herself, between blushes and stammers, that just because this was the sort of thing she fantasized about didn’t mean she wanted it to be her entire lifestyle. Irene valued the control she had over her life, didn’t she? As much as she struggled at times, it was her own choices that had kept her mostly out of trouble in a world full of just that. Letting her imagination get a bit indulgent about her more kinky desires was one thing, but surrendering herself over to become someone’s pet? To become owned entirely? Irene forced herself to deny wanting it even as another part of her screamed yes.

Besides, becoming a pet was an unknown. She had a somewhat good idea of what she could expect as an independent citizen of the Terran Protectorate. She could live her life as she wanted without the crushing burden of capitalism. The life of a pet was something she could only guess at, and who knew what sort of liberties an affini, even a kind one like Curbita, might feel entitled to take on the sort of person who would willingly sign themselves up to be a pet. Irene had tried to ignore the part of her which told her someone taking liberties with her mind and body sounded kind of hot. Either way, becoming someone’s pet was just another way she would lose choice over the direction of her own life. The affini were doing enough of that simply by conquering the world. Irene at least wanted to have some say in that. Or, at least, that’s what some stubborn, scared part of her had told her.

As such, when Curbita offered to take her back to her own hab, Irene had rebuffed her. Of course, like an utter fool, she’d felt the need to come up with a reason, because apparently ‘I don’t want to be your pet’ wasn’t a good enough one—possibly because Irene wasn’t even certain it was true. As such, she’d instead cooked up some lie about needing to live in her current apartment building because she actually had a neighbor who was a sweet old man that needed someone to look after him. Curbita being Curbita, of course, had simply suggested they revisit the matter when the affini finally managed to take over her district then.

It was around then, that Curbita declared it was about time for her to help Irene get home, and set off confidently, not even bothering to be certain Irene was following—she was, of course. A few minutes later, Curbita led Irene into what appeared to be some sort of large garage, only, like everything the affini built, incredibly over the top and well decorated. She strolled right up to some kind of small craft made from a glass-like substance wrapped in vines and giant floral wing-like formations. As she approached, a hatch in the back of the craft opened up, and Curbita began to unload Irene’s bags inside.

By this point, Irene couldn’t hold back her questions. “Curbita, what are you doing?” She blurted.

Giving a cursory glance over her shoulder, Curbita gave a soothing smile, and answered. “Well dear, obviously there’s no way you can carry all these bags. And even if you could, I can’t risk having you walk past those awful ‘free Duri’ radicals again. They might try to hurt you! I’ll be taking you home in this aircar. I already filled out the requisition for it while we were in the grocer, just in case.”

For a moment, Irene considered trying to protest, but quickly realized that there was no way Curbita was changing her mind on this. Honestly, she was beginning to suspect she’d pushed her luck quite a bit already. How many affini would even permit her to return to the harsh realities of capitalism at all? Wouldn’t forcing her to stay be ‘for her own good?’ Could Irene even deny the truth to that notion if Crubita forced her hand? Apparently she didn’t need to regardless, as Curbita has allowed her this indulgence. She felt guilty, almost; surely Curbita would worry herself sick over Irene’s wellbeing once they parted ways. Surely she was putting herself in unnecessary danger just for her own pride and agency.

Either way, Curbita was her regular cheery self as she finished loading the bags into the aircar, and strolled to the front side. Automatically, the car’s main body opened up on what appeared to be a hinge running the length of its capsule-like cockpit. Silently, Irene followed the affini, who turned around and scooped her up in her arms to safely deposit Irene inside one of the two seats. She hardly even squirmed. “Sorry dear,” Curbita explained as she climbed into after Irene, “it’s just an awfully high step for someone your size. Better for your safety that I handle it.”

Before Irene really had time to even properly settle into her seat, Curbita flicked a switch, and their transport came to life, lifting about twenty feet into the air with a quiet, soothing hum from the engines. Curbita cast a quick glance toward Irene, “comfy?” she asked. Actually, she really was. The seat was incredibly soft and seemed to mold itself to her shape perfectly. Irene gave a little nod, and Crubita pressed forward on the throttle, taking them forward at a relatively slow—for a flight-capable vehicle—speed. “Irene dear, would you mind setting the navigation system to guide me to your home?” Curbita asked. As she spoke, a little holo-display flickered to life in front of Irene, displaying a local map. Wordlessly, she tapped their destination, and watched the map flash a pleasing green color.

“Good girl!” Cheered a pre-recorded affini voice from the aircar’s speaker.

“Oh, I’m sorry Irene. I think the onboard computer mistook us for a floret and owner pair and is defaulting to its presets for floret interaction.” The explanation did little to calm Irene’s furious blush.

It wasn’t long before the aircar drew close to the border; as the transparent barrier separating the parts of the city, Irene felt as though she weren't simply about to cross between two city blocks, but from one planet to a wholly different one, a far worse one. In the distance, Irene could glimpse the anti-affini mob; she felt herself grow tense. The crowd had grown larger while she was away, and as she drew closer she could see a myriad of signs specifically about ‘traitors.’ It felt like they’d been made specifically for her.

Her breath caught in her throat. These people hated her; they hated Curbita. They would kill her without a second thought if they thought they could get away with it. And here she was flying right toward them. How many rebels were in that crowd. How many of them were armed, what if they tried to shoot her and Curbita down? Would they be able to recognize her from down there? Track her down in the night and—”Darling, calm down. They can’t hurt you,” Curbita soothed. Delicately, Curbita took Irene’s hand in hers, running her thumb along her knuckles soothingly as she gently shushed the girl. Irene’s body responded immediately to the command, her heart rate lowering, muscles relaxing, frightened thoughts easily banished by the comfort of Curbita’s reassurance. “This hull could withstand a full force bombardment of your pesky little Terran coil-artillery and come out the other end good as new.” Reflexively, Irene found herself leaning in closer to Curbita for comfort, putting her weight against the affini’s torso and taking slow breaths. “There’s a good girl,” Curbita cooed; Irene whimpered.

The sounds of shouting were drawing closer now; they were saying such horrible things. Irene shut her eyes tight and wrapped an arm around Curbita’s, pulling herself closer. A soft click sounded inside the car, and suddenly the sound faded, becoming muffled and unintelligible. Irene could almost tune them out entirely with the soft hum of the motor. Suddenly, a cachunk sounded through the car. Irene yelped aloud, shutting her eyes even tighter and collapsing into Curbita’s embrace. Soothingly, her hand began to run through Irene’s hair as the affini lowered Irene down into her lap. “It’s alright, hush now. I told you, they can’t hurt you. That wasn’t even them, dearest. That was me engaging the active camouflage. The projector must have caught on something as it was deploying, that’s all.” Keeping her eyes shut, Irene nodded, letting herself relax into the comfort Curbita was providing. “They won’t even see us passing overhead now. I’ll get you home safe and cook you something nice to eat, okay?”

“That sounds nice,” Irene murmured. That seemed to please Curbita, earning Irene another gentle stroke of her hair.

For the rest of the brief trip, Irene kept her eyes shut, lying in Curbita’s lap. Eventually, their aircar touched down on solid ground. A quiet hissing sound indicated the cockpit swinging open, and suddenly Irene was being swept into Curbita’s arms as the affini disembarked, carrying Irene along with her. Slowly, Irene was lowered to the ground, Curbita ensuring she had her footing before properly letting go; Irene did her best to pretend she wasn’t disappointed. Opening her eyes, she looked around to see that Curbita had landed atop her building’s roof, one of the few actually nice features of the place. The view was quite nice from up there, but now when Irene looked out at the city she saw only the start reminder of how much worse things were on the ‘free’ side of the city.

“Irene dearest, can you lead us to your hab now?” Curbita’s voice immediately commanded Irene’s full attention. She gave an enthusiastic nod, and didn’t think twice about the fact that she was still holding her affini’s hand. Leading Curbita into the building, she unlocked the door back inside, and quickly realized that they should probably take the stairs instead of squeezing into the elevator.

Two floors down, Irene led Curbita down the hall to her unit, opened the door, and suddenly realized that she was about to reveal what a fucking mess her place was. “I um, sorry, it’s kind of a disaster in there right now,” she hurriedly explained as the door swung open. As Irene took her first few tentative steps into her apartment, she realized just how badly she’d been neglecting keeping the place livable. The main walkway was strewn with wrappers and packaging, the garbage was overflowing, the floor hadn’t been properly swept in over a month. Her kitchen counters were stained, covered in food scraps and empty containers; her sink was full of dirty dishes. There was no way her fridge had enough room for the groceries in general, but currently it was also full of expired food she’d neglected to eat. A disaster was an understatement.

Slowly, Curbita followed along behind her, stooping a little to fit inside the room which was clearly not sized for her, she calmly took in the state of Irene’s home. Quietly, she brushed past Irene, setting the grocery bags down off to the side of the main hallway, and entered the main room. Sheepishly, Irene followed behind her, picking past scattered trash she’d never bothered to pick up. When she reached Curbita, the affini gave her a concerned look. “Little one, did something happen? Surely you don’t—forgive me for sounding insensitive—but surely this isn’t how you live.” Her tone seemed free of judgment, but Irene simply didn’t believe that. How could someone so larger than life, so perfect and competent look around at everything she saw and not judge Irene for being so… useless.

Shame burned from her cheeks into her core as Irene stared downward at her feet; her eyes were starting to sting, hands starting to tremble. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to be this way but I just can’t. I don’t have it in me to even clean up after myself. Every day I tell myself I’ll do something productive but every day I just don’t. I just fixate on meaningless things out of my control and I—”

Curbita’s arms were around her, pressing Irene close into the affini’s body and stroking her head. “Hey now, it’s alright. You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Irene; like I said, some people need more help than others. So how about you go sit on that nice, cozy looking bed of yours and relax while I clean up a bit and get started on some food for you?” Denying it was useless; Curbita was treating Irene like a pet. The thing was, Irene liked it. She was just glad Curbita couldn’t know how many night’s she’d spent watching affini broadcasts or fantasizing about being owned.

At the very least, Irene could take solace in the fact that Curbita wasn’t likely to have a reason to snoop on Irene’s computer, otherwise she might come across Irene’s extensive collection of petplay art and erotica. For some stupid, obvious reason, though, the thought of the affini woman coming across that and gently, condescendingly, but assertively and suggestively confronting her over it made Irene go weak in the knees. That was fine, though, as Curbita was ready to catch her; her affini crossed the room in a few strides, then deposited Irene into bed. With a soft smile, she placed a doting kiss on Irene’s forehead. “Be a good girl for me and sit right here and relax while I take care of you, okay little one?” As she spoke, Curbita held Irene’s face in her hands, looking deep into the girl’s eyes.

Curbita wasn’t saying just anything, though; she’d given Irene a command. Irene wanted to obey. So many times she’d imagined herself being told what to do, being controlled, by someone who knew what was best for her. Could she even deny it at this point? She wasn’t fit to take care of herself. A simple question from Curbita had been enough to cause Irene to break down into tears and she honestly thought she was good enough to take care of herself?

Apparently seeing the girl’s distress, Curbita stroked Irene’s cheek. “None of that, now,” she purred. Irene nodded, keeping her mouth, afraid of what might escape her lips were she to answer verbally. “Good girl,” Curbita sang. Without another word, the affini turned, and strode back to clean Irene’s tiny kitchen, leaving the girl with a few stray vines to cuddle while she watched from across the apartment.

Ch. 5

After everything she’d seen, Irene had started to feel as though she was beginning to get a grasp on just how completely outclassed humanity was by the affini. Then Curbita unfurled herself into a perfectly coordinated whirlwind of vines and, in the course of minutes, accomplished what would have taken her hours. Dishes were washed, the scattered mess across her floor was swept up and disposed of, the fridge was emptied then filled with new groceries, trash was bagged, her counters were cleared and wiped down, all while Irene watched in bewilderment, tightly clutching the vines Curbita had left for her. The fact that affini were capable of unfurling themselves like so to begin with was impressive enough, but the sheer level of multitasking on display was like nothing Irene had ever seen.

The whole display just left Irene feeling insignificant and incompitent. What was strange, though, was that Irene wasn’t sure how to react to those feelings. Normally she’d feel terrible, berate herself, ask herself why she couldn’t function that way. She wasn’t necessarily not feeling inadequate and upset that she couldn’t act with that level of competence, but beneath those feelings ran an undercurrent of awe and reverence. The affini were just like this, that truth was growing more and more apparent. Who then, could really question humanity’s rightful place under their care? A lot of people, apparently; logically, Irene knew that her line of thought wasn’t necessarily sound, but it wasn’t her fault Curbita and the other affini had such a humbling aura about them. And yes, Curbita made Irene feel insignificant, but she felt she didn’t need to be significant when Curbita was around; at least, she didn’t need to be significant by the standards of capitalism.

Still, it was impossible for Irene not to wonder, what would happen when Curbita went back home? What would happen when she was left alone in an empty, bland apartment with nothing but her own thoughts to occupy her once more. She would at least be safe, probably; the affini were sure take her part of the city by the end of the month. But even then, wouldn’t that only remove the consequences of her failings? They would still be there, at the end of the day. How long until all the mess Curbita was in the process of sweeping away crept back? How long until her sink was again completely filled with dirty dishes? Would Irene’s daily life truly be that different? Certainly it would be nicer, more comfortable, less stressful without the looming threat of starvation or houselessness.

But even before the instability, before she’d lost her modest, but livable income, Irene had hardly been happy. She didn’t have friends, her relatives weren’t worth her time, she had little in the way of meaningful hobbies. kept herself locked away inside, isolating herself from the outside world. Ridding her life of the looming threat of capitalism wouldn’t fix how lonely she was, how purposeless and useless she felt. The biggest change would simply be that society would not punish Irene for being purposeless and useless, she still would, though. And all that was assuming she even made it that far. What if she didn’t last until the affini took over her portion of Monte Cruces? What if some of the rebels had seen Curbita’s aircar despite its camouflage? What if she awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of steel-toed boots kicking in her door and the last thing she ever saw was a muzzle-flash? Distantly, Irene became aware of the fact that she was crying. Her hands tightened around Curbita’s vines as she sank onto her side, hugging the vines tighter for comfort.

Before Irene had time to fully process, Curbita was upon her, pulling her into the affini’s tight embrace. “Hey,” she whispered. “What’s wrong, dearest?”

“Scared—the rebels—what if they—don’t want to be alone—don’t want them to hurt me.” Her words came between choking gasps, forced out between heaving breaths.

More vines wrapped around Irene, covering her from her neck down, securing her tightly, but not uncomfortably. Irene found herself being lifted into the air and held before Curbita’s face. “Sweetheart,” she murmured. “Do you really think that the Affini Compact would ever allow any harm to come to you, or any other cute little human? Do you really think I would ever allow any harm to come to you? The Duri resistance is a sad, harmless, inept group of fools. They can not, and will not ever hurt a soul.”

Confusion was perhaps an upgrade from complete panic, but Irene still wasn’t entirely sure she believed Curbita. She knew first hand the dangers they posed. “But Curbita, I’ve heard them. Just last night there were gunshots right outside my window.”

“You heard gunshots,” Curbita corrected. “But I’d bet you didn’t see them. When, Irene, was the last time you saw any armed rebels at all?”

What kind of question was that? There were all kinds of paramilitary looking assholes roaming the streets; Irene saw them all the time. Then again, Irene realized, Curbita did specifically ask her about armed rebels. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she actually wasn’t sure she’d seen any rebels with guns. Or, at the very least, she hadn’t seen their guns.

“You can’t think of a time, can you?” Curbita asked. Irene shook her head. “Have you even wondered why it’s taking us so long to finish taking this planet?”

Where was Curbita going with this? Irene couldn’t help but wonder. Perhaps it was simply a distraction, meant to ground her. She did feel a little less panicky, though that was possibly simply due to her affini’s proximity. “I always just assumed for some reason you wound up with fewer ships than you were supposed to have. One ship definitely struck me as odd since from the research I did on other planets it seems like you’d normally want several.”

A wide, pride smile bloomed across Curbita’s face. “What a smart girl you are,” she cheered, mussing Irene’s hair to her delight. “That is part of it, yes, though the real answer is a bit more complex. You’ve mentioned Duri has a bit of a contentious relationship with Terra. Well, what you may not know is that Duri hasn’t provided Terra with its most current census data for just a little over fifty Terran years. Worse still, instead of making estimates or at the very least simply noting this down, the Accord, in all of its incompetence, simply used that fifty year old data without second thoughts.” Despite her word choice, there wasn’t a hint of anger or disdain in Curbita’s tone, she sounded more like a teacher chiding a misbehaving student than a galactic conqueror bemoaning the state of her conquest’s government. “Thus, when the Affini Compact moved to take Duri, we were expecting a far smaller population, and prepared as such. There were to be other ships, but when an emergency arose elsewhere in the galaxy the captain of Sempervirens decided that we could handle Duri on our own. Reinforcement ships are on the way and should be arriving any day to clean up the rest of the planet, but until then we’re having to be far more slow methodical than we’d like.”

“Um, Curbita, forgive me but I don’t see how that means the rebels aren’t dangerous?” Irene asked, shrinking inward a little in her affini’s grip and glazing away, almost ashamed for questioning the woman.

“Chin up, my darling girl.” As she spoke, one of Curbita’s vines tilted Irene’s gaze back to Curbita’s face, then delicately stroked Irene’s cheek. Irene knew exactly what that little stroke meant, too; it was a reward, a bit of silent praise and affection for doing as she was asked. “The reason, my sweet flower, that the conquest has been slow, is that our resources have been stretched thin. But it is not fighting or capturing or even building and renovating that has stretched us so thin. The reason our creep across this planet, and, in microcosm, this city, is that the vast majority of our resources are going toward ensuring the continued safety of every single person living in the unconquered parts of the planet. We have scouts, drones and cameras on every corner of every street of every city. We monitor every bit of rebel activity, ensure every non-rebel citizen is never in the slightest bit of danger. They are toothless; their weapons have long been raided and either confiscated or destroyed by our scouts, drones and nanoswarms which continuously scour this planet for any and all danger—”

“But the gunshots,” Irene insisted. “I heard them.”

“What you heard was sad, pathetic posturing. A desperate flailing attempt to instill fear in a populous they have no control over. It was noise, perhaps a recording, or harmless fireworks. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time your sad little ‘Duri Freedom’ radicals have pulled such a stunt.” Curbita fixed Irene with a calm, caring, but incense gaze, her eyes shimmering cyan with flecks of greens and gold sprinkled throughout. “I assure you, my Irene, there is no danger. It pains me, and all of the rest of my shipmates to know that so many of this planet’s people have yet to be gifted with the comfort and luxury the society we will soon build for them. The pain and suffering inherent to your human ‘capitalism’ is unacceptable, and we wish nothing more to fall upon all of Duri like some sort of Green Tide. But until our reinforcements arrive, we have had to sacrifice the speed at which we liberate this planet from such discomforts to ensure that each and every one of its citizens live to see that day come.”

Under any other circumstances, Irene wouldn’t have believed any of what she’d just heard. With everything she’d seen though, after witnessing just a taste of the Affini Compact’s capability and unfathomable power, after spending a day growing to trust and rely on Curbita, Irene couldn’t muster even a kernel of doubt. She felt foolish, honestly. Of course the affini would go to such lengths. Irene was convinced then, that there was nothing the Affini weren’t capable of achieving with the right motivation and a bit of time. And it felt safe; she felt safe. There was no risk of any harm coming to her, Curbita would not allow that to happen, so it wouldn’t.

Sadly understanding that in her mind wasn’t entirely enough to stop her body from panicking the way it had been. She was still distressed, and that fact only frustrated her further. Her stupid body wasn’t listening to reason, Curbita had went through all that to calm her and she wasn’t doing what she was supposed to and it wasn’t even in her control. It was fucking bullshit, it was—it wasn’t necessary. It didn’t need to be her problem.

As though to confirm her own thought process, Curbita made a gentle rumble sound, likely an approximation of a throat clear; the sound immediately captured Irene’s attention, her eyes focusing on the sight before her. Curbita really is so pretty, Irene thought to herself. “Little one, would it be okay if I gave you something to help you calm down?” Out of the corner of her eye, Irene glimpsed a colorful flower hovering before her face. It took Irene a moment to realize Curbita was offering her drugs, but it felt obvious in hindsight; affini pharmacology seemed to be one of their biggest points of cultural pride. A little flicker of doubt brushed at Irene’s mind, but she banished it. Curbita had her best interest in mind, there was no doubt.

“Please?” Irene asked.

On cue, the vine bearing Curbita’s flower pulled toward Irene, pressing the flower against her lips and nose like a mask. “Just breathe deep for me now, sweetheart,” Curbita cooed. Irene obeyed, taking slow, full breaths, pulling the sweet, heavy heady scent of Curbita’s flower into her lungs. There was a distinct sense that Irene could quite literally feel the drugs sink into her, rest heavily in her lungs then dissipate through her body, weighing her down in relaxed contentment. Her awareness of the world around her began to slip, then narrow into a fine point of singular focus: Curbita. All her thoughts save those which bade her to relax, let go, and focus on Curbita were banished. Really, how could Irene focus on anything else when Curbita was so indescribably pretty? When she had showered Irene with such limitless kindness and care? “That’s my girl, just relax now, sweetheart. I’ll take care of everything; you just have to let me”

As Curbita began to lavish all manner of delicate strokes across Irene’s flesh, squeeze her in all the right ways, surrounder her in warmth and comfort, Irene realized this was the exact sort of thing she’d fantasized about so many times. To be treasured, but kept, controlled, how many times had she imagined herself in this exact sort of situation? There was no denying it, Curbita was acting like the exact sort of loving owner Irene had craved in all of her most indulgent submissive fantasies; she was treating Irene like the exact sort of pet she longed to be. Even so, Irene never could have imagined just how wonderful it would truly feel. Did Curbita know, somehow, or were affini just like this? Perhaps it was both. Irene didn’t really care. She’d forgotten why she ever bothered to pretend this wasn’t everything she ever wanted; she’d forgotten what had even made her so upset in the first place. She was spellbound now, captured entirely by Curbita’s will, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Good girl.” For a few beautiful, perfect, endless moments, Curbita’s praise was all Irene could think about; all she knew. “So relaxed now, so comfortable, so safe. You trust me to keep you safe, right, Irene?”

She couldn’t help herself, there was no stopping her; the words slipped out unbidden. “Yes, Mistress,” Irene whimpered. It was already too late when Irene realized what she’d said; even so, she didn’t care. The words felt right on her lips, they were music in her ears and bliss on her tongue. Curbita was acting the owner, and Irene was more than happy to fill her part as the pet. Still, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps this was the wrong thing for her to have said. Was it appropriate for Irene to address Curbita as such? A hint of tension began to creep into the back of her mind.

The soft, pleased, rumbling hum which rolled from Curbita’s core banished Irene’s doubt, hopefully for good. She didn’t want to feel that way anymore. Her fingers ran lavishly through Irene’s hair as Curbita’ clutched Irene even closer. “That’s my girl.” For a few minutes, the world faded away and everything was sleepy, comfortable bliss; Irene allowed herself to be drowned in Curbita’s will. When her affini stirred and softly called her name, it took a moment for Irene to drift back up from the dull, blank lull of docile, peaceful contentment she’d fallen into. Slowly, her eyes began to focus again, bringing Curbita’s face into view. “I think it’s time we get you home, dearest,” she crooned.

The words were already perplexing; Irene’s state of sleepy, drug addled bliss didn’t help make piecing things together any easier. She scrunched her face up in concentration, earning a musical giggle from her affini which immediately relaxed all her tension, and also had the effect of breaking her concentration. “Home already,” Irene slurred.

A light, chiding sigh escaped Curbita’s lips. “Little one, surely even now you must be able to understand; from the very start, there was never any chance I would have allowed you to remain here. Your little fib about a kindly old neighbor you needed to look after for was clever, but I saw right through it. I simply cannot and will not allow you to live in these conditions, to suffer under this cruel way of life which so many humans cling to. I will not allow that for even one day more. The question was never whether you would be staying here, it was always whether it would be off in your own hab unit, or with me. I think we both know the answer to that question now though, don’t we?”

A flustered string of unintelligible sputtering and moans erupted from Irene’s lips, before she finally managed to compose herself enough to choke out a weak little, “Yes, Miss.”

With an amused little chuckle, Curbita stood from the bed and looked around the apartment. “Well, I suppose I kind of carried your food here for nothing. That’s alright though, you weren’t ready to admit yet where you really belong. Let’s get you home, pet.”