Katie-the-Angel-Witch

Content Warning:

Spoiler

Dysphoria, Parental Neglect

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My keys rattle as I pull them out of the lock and close the door. I don’t spend too long taking the main room in as I flip the light switch on. Kitchen counter against one wall, sporting an oven and gas stove top along with a microwave, fridge of course included. I can’t help but feel that they should be yellowed from smoke, that them looking relatively new is a facade put up for the sake of appearances. The whole place feels too new for how the exterior looks.  The furniture in here should be from the 60’s, built sturdy and to last because you’re not going to get anything new until it is FUBAR. But instead the centerpiece of the room is a cheap fold out couch. There isn’t even a proper dining table, only a coffee table with two used bowls on it, standing across from a TV stand with no TV on it, only the ghost of one. A TV stand framed by a door on each side, one to the bedroom the other to the bathroom, the two rooms connected through a walk-in closet in between them. “Hey, Top, your girl is home!” I call out, closing the front door behind me and crossing the main room to look into my bedroom. 

Dame Topiary Forges Her Armies On Moons responds to my greeting with her trademark feline chirp from her dedicated spot, the cat bed sitting on my tower PC. “Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” She yawns and jumps off, so as to pad across the floor and rub against my legs. “Hey, I know there’s another woman’s scent on me, but there’s no need to get so possessive!” She meows and I quickly scratch behind her ears while making my way to the couch. I fall onto it and spread out, tossing off my beanie and untying my shoulderblades-long hair. The release of tension this brings me is indescribable. I deflate, chuckling to myself. Now I’m a flat fuck instead of a bad fuck. It is Friday.

Within seconds Top jumps onto my chest and starts kneading with her paws, reminding me I’m flat in more than one way. I pet her, half  as thanks for her attempt, half to get my mind off of the weight. “My body is still betraying me too much for that to do anything, Top.” She stops, looks me straight in the eyes and blinks slowly before laying down, her eyes still focused on me. “Love you too, you fuzzball.” I slowly blink back at her to be even clearer. I didn’t need to, she does understand human speech. It’s why I recognized the odd twinkle in the weird girl’s eye. Top has it as well.

I made her my familiar, after all. And magic leaves its mark on everything it touches. She meows at me and I stroke her back, enjoying the feeling of her purrs on my chest. “I don’t think it was smart of me to show up. I just wanted to be on the periphery of everyone, not to be a bad fuck.” Top stretches just enough to nuzzle my face quickly before laying back down, mrrping in protest. “Hey, you can’t be objective about my ability to fuck, it’s not like you can test it.” Her meow makes me laugh. “Fine, fine, deal, if I somehow manage to bring a girl over that knows I’m a girl, and we fuck, you get to watch to judge me. Promise.” She holds up a paw and I grip it between my pinkie and ring finger. “Sure, Pinkie Promise.”

We lay like that for some time, just a girl and her cat, enjoying the ambiance and the peace. It only lasts until Top starts licking my cheek. “Okay, okay, shower time, I got the memo. Come on, hop off so I can get up.” 

I stare into the mirror for a long time after I’m finished, scrutinizing every single feature of mine. My tall, narrow frame. My completely flat chest. The tired bags under my blue eyes, bags big enough to carry the entirety of Fort Knox in. And then I land on my hair, the one feminine trait I let myself have. One which I hide and cover up, like you would a bra and panties under a business suit, hoping that nobody notices the outline of the shoulder strap. Getting both extremely anxious about somebody discovering your secret and throwing bricks at you for “bringing your fetish into work”, while also feeling just euphoric enough about the little things to not be dying inside as much. But of course it isn’t a fetish. The relief when you finally get home and strip off the mascot costume your social contract says you have to wear isn’t a sexual one. After all, you don’t bust a nut taking off your work shoes at the end of the day. Do you? 

I get the blow dryer out and get to work, noting the different color of the roots when I finish. Of all the different ways magic could mark me I must admit, anime hair color shift was not top on my list of expected results. Weird glowing eyes, darkened nails, paler skin? Maybe. Purple hair? A surprise, a pleasant one but a surprise nonetheless. It hasn’t progressed far, mind you, I’ve only performed two spells. One to make Top my familiar, one for body hair removal. None of the other spells in the book I got my hands on were truly relevant to my needs. Except for one. 

With hygiene done, I catch a glimpse of the mirror once more and for the briefest of moments I see me. I see a plain, tired girl, but nevertheless a girl. 

And then I lose the image. What looks back at me is a guy who disappointed a girl in bed. A depressed wreck of a person that’s keeping out the rain with plastic sheets and duct tape over the hole in the roof and walls. I look at the ruin that is my body and I can somewhat picture hikers that are lost stopping there to survive the night, but I can’t picture a commune moving in and making it a home. All the shapes are wrong. The way the shadows fall are wrong. The way the meat stands at rest is wrong. The way the chest rises and falls as I breathe is wrong. Too many things are missing, too many things are rough and sharp and-

I crumble onto the floor, barely managing to reach out and open the door. Top wastes no time coming to me, reaching up with her paws. I hold her close and cry, infinitely thankful that testosterone didn’t take that ability from me. It takes ten minutes of her purring and nuzzling my cheek before I manage to collect myself. It feels longer than that. She chirps a question in cat. I wipe my tears away. “I’ll be okay, Top, don’t worry. This won’t be forever. I just… need to come out to the counselor and get pointed in the right direction. Easy.” Top, despite lacking the facial muscles required for the fine expression humans can perform, gives me such a look I nearly freeze. “Yeah, right, if it was easy I would have done it already.” She wiggles out of my grasp with a meow. “Bedtime, thanks for reminding me. Can’t be dysphoric, depressed and anxious when I’m asleep.” 

The third worst thing to be woken up by, right after losing your roof due to a bombing in first place and a police raid in second, is getting a phone call. The former two shock your system into a wakeful state. Hell, getting a knock on the door forces you to get out of bed and get presentable, which pushes you into wakefulness. A phone call when you can just reach over and pick it up from the comfort of your own bed? Your brain yells at you to ignore it. Hell, mine is yelling even harder for me to ignore it now that I see the caller ID. Who wants to be woken up by the primary conversation topic you’d have with your therapist if you dared go to one?

“Hello, Mother.” Top quietly hisses as I answer it.

“Good Morning, Kat.” Oh, surprising, she uses my name, that’s a first. She’s the only one I’ve come out to in person, but like with many other things, all she felt towards the revelation that her son is a daughter was apathy. “How is college treating you?” 

As if you actually care. “Oh, you know, managing, getting wasted and blitzed nightly with a great group of friends while completely neglecting my studies.”

“Good, networking is important.” Her deadpan tone of voice would knock me on my ass. I know she’s completely serious. That’s the worst part. “And how is your little companion?”

“She managed to leave the apartment and get run over.” That answer earns me a headbutt to the hip from Top, who I proceed to pet.

“I see.” The next few seconds are filled with an uncomfortable silence. “Well, what can you do, cats do what they want.” Wow, I think my ear just got frostbite.

“Why’re you calling?” I rub my eyes, hoping for this conversation to be over soon. 

“Can’t a mother make sure her daughter is doing okay?” Your criteria for me being okay is me breathing, fed, clothed and housed. And as I’ve just woken up, I fulfill two out of four.

“Surprised you’d care.” 

“What gave you the idea I wouldn’t?” Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically? 

“You’ve always been distant, is all.” 

“Well, yes, I haven’t always been the best mother,” try never, “but it’s because I was making sure we could manage on our own.” Another moment of silence passes between us, one that I break.

“You have no idea how to do small talk, do you?”

“I know how to engage with clients, Kat.” 

“Yeah, that’s not the same thing.” I sigh, slumping my shoulders, taking a moment to collect myself. “Fine, I’ll clear the air. Top is alive and I’m being a boring recluse. Bye.” I hang up. For a short while, I sit in my bed, my hand gripped tightly around the phone. Just one movement and I can release the tension. A quick flick of the wrist. All it would cost me is the price of a new phone. Top quickly nuzzles me under the chin and hops off, coming back with a small bouncy ball that has “Mom” written on it in sharpie. I let go of my phone and throw the ball with as much force as my untrained muscles can muster. 

Boing. “Fuck her.” Meow. 

Boing. “Fuck her.” Meow.

Boing. “Fuck. Her.” Meow!

Boing. “FUCK.” Meow!

Boing. “HER!” Meeeeow!!

I yell into my pillow and hug Top closely. I stay like that for a while, until I start muttering into her fur. “I wonder if neglect is worse than outright abuse. With one, you at least have bruises to point to to prove how much they hurt you. With the other, there’s just nothing. Absolutely nothing except a hollow longing for what you’re lacking.” With a few last deep breaths I drag myself out of bed, making sure it’s neatly made. My morning routine is nothing special. Spend half an hour brushing my hair through so that I have an easy time tying it up if I leave the house. Make breakfast for myself and Top. Light and quickly blow out a candle  after saying a few words, as a small protection ritual. 

And then, because it’s Saturday and all my plans are indoors and I never have guests over, I take out the little black dress I keep stashed away in my closet. The relief that washes over me as I slip it on and let my hair fall free is almost indescribable. Like gasping for air on the shore after nearly drowning, spreading yourself on the sand and laughing because you’re alive. Top nearly brings the building down from the strength of her purring, feeling happy for me being happy. “If only I could have you watch my back, Top. Maybe then I’d dare go out like this.” I give a big grin to my familiar, who simply meows in response. “Right, time for chores, and then,” I look at the ominous book on my desk, “well, then I see if it works as promised.”

Katie-the-Angel-Witch

I'm keeping my promises. One of the reasons why I picked specifically this time is because I'm trying to stream again, with Sundays currently dedicated to getting through the Metroid series in Chronological and Release Order.

Yes I gave up on NES Metroid. I was born a decade after it released, it was too mean to my dyspractic hands.

Anyway, you can catch them on my Twitch

Let me also remind you that this story in its entirety is available for only $4+ on my Itch Page, I'd call that a bargain

Of course there's also my Patreon to support me on, where you can get a monthly commission of 3 pages (~1600 words) for only 20 bucks! That's a steal! Other authors rightfully charge $10 for 250 words, and I'm cheaper than water!

But if you just want to talk, there's always my very quiet Discord, you can make it loud if you join!

Thank you so very much for reading, there's still 15 chapters to go!