I couldn’t respond to her question quickly enough, “Remember? What don’t I remember? You know what I’ve forgotten?” The words flew unbidden from my lips; I simply needed to know. Part of me felt it might be okay to give in if that simply meant I could finally understand. Perhaps it would even be fine if it weren’t the truth, so long as I believed it, so long as it adequately plugged that hole.
“I know, yes. It’s a sad story, but if you’ll let me, I think I can help you find a happy ending for it.” There was a gleam in her eyes, following the burst of confidence from my sudden change in demeanor.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“I suppose you can’t know for sure, you’ll just have to decide that for yourself. If you want, I can send you home in a heartbeat. But the reality is, this is home, here with me.” I couldn’t bring myself to argue with her, instead just huffing softly, and nodding to her.
“Go on,” I murmured. “I’m listening.”
“About four years ago, which, if I’m not mistaken, is where your memory loss starts, you and I met. You’d fallen on some hard times, but you were always so friendly and eager to see me. We grew close, started to fall for one another, and, after about six months of dating, we both had secrets to reveal.” She withdrew, looking contemplative as her gaze shifted away from mine and off into nothingness, brow creased with concentration and worry.
“What secrets?” I asked, unsure what to think, what to believe. She certainly felt important to me, but there was far too much missing from her story for it to make any sense.
“This is the hard part, see. I can’t help but think I’m not doing myself any favors by telling you this, but you were right about magic being real. I’m a witch, and after all that time together, I’d fallen for you. I needed you to see me for who I really was, but I wasn’t the only one.” Her gaze fell back down to me, eyes searching mine.
“Just get on with it,” I growled, before suddenly feeling very ashamed for talking to her that way.
“You always were an impatient one,” she giggled cutely, and continued. “You took the whole ‘dating a witch’ thing surprisingly well. In fact, we skipped right past denial and fear and right into excitement. You see, magic was exactly the kind of thing you needed. Cause, well, like I said you’re a girl. You’re trans.” The room suddenly felt a lot warmer as the magic pouring from the collar around my neck surged once more, but, with some effort, I managed to keep it from rising up to consume me. At least not all at once; my resolve was weakening by the moment as more and more the gaps in my mind grew smaller as they were filled with those desires it pumped into me.
It was hard to even deny her; by this point the news that I was trans sounded like a blessing, it meant I really could just be a girl. But that wounded, trapped animal part of my brain still snapped at its bars. I couldn’t just let myself be convinced of the first convenient story I heard. That would bring me under the collar’s sway for sure, under Mistress’ sway. It sounded wonderful. So happy, so safe, so comfortable, but what good was any of that if I were living a lie? Though, then again, what good was living in “truth” if that truth made me miserable? I could wax philosophically about such questions day in and out, but the real heart of the matter was that I didn’t know who or what to believe. My instincts told me I was a man, that I’d always been one, but I hardly knew myself anymore to begin with. After a long pause, I returned her gaze.
“If I’m a girl, and you’re a witch, then why do I look like I do now? Why is our entire relationship missing from my memory? It seems like pretty convenient timing to me.” My tone was that of choked defiance, even doing that was hard though.
“You’re right, and part of the reason you were so happy to hear magic was real was the hope that I could change your body. I could, and I did. That’s what the collar is doing now, at least, trying to do, but you’re too stubborn to let it.” She thoughtfully ran a finger along the outside of the collar; just knowing her nails were brushing against it so close to me had me shuddering beneath her. “For a long time, we lived like that, as girlfriends, as lovers, as Mistress and pet. We were both so happy. We got engaged, got this house together, everything was perfect. But despite it all, you were starting to feel sad again.”
“Why?” My tone was almost hurt; for a moment I’d been totally engrossed in her story, I’d seen it in my minds eye as she described it to me. Perhaps she was telling the truth and uncovering fragments of memories, perhaps the collar simply projected whatever feelings she wanted it to into my head, perhaps it was some of both. But her words had a profound impact on me; she had taken me into that world with me, shown me the life I’d supposedly had as her girlfriend. But the revelation that those good feelings had come to an end was enough to fully deflate me, even if it could be seen coming from a mile off.
“You felt sad that you never got the childhood you wanted as a girl. You wanted to know what that was like, so I prepared a set of false memories for you that would take you through an alternate version of your life in a matter of minutes on fast forward. It wouldn’t erase the old you, mind you, but it would give you something to cling to whenever you felt inauthentic.” Even as she divulged every last detail in an almost clinical sense, I could hear the quivering in her voice, see the hot tears forming in her eyes as her face grew red.
“What happened?” I asked, almost not wishing to know.
“There was some kind of accident, I still don’t understand it, but I must have done something wrong and, well, instead of giving you those memories, it took you away from me.”
“What do you mean it took me from you? How could you let it do that?” Of all the things she could have said that would anger me, I’d never had expected it to be that. Her sob was audible, but she pressed on.
“I tried, okay?” Either she was being genuine, or she was a damn good actor; either way it was getting harder and harder for me not to be convinced. Especially when everything she told me about our lives together had sounded so perfect. “I was stuck watching, completely helpless as, instead of giving you memories of an alternate past, it took away the future we’d made for ourselves. I saw you lose the body I gave you to take on that one, I saw the fear and pleading and love in your eyes slowly fade into confusion and bewilderment. Then the magic pulled you away, to wherever you had been in your most recent remaining memory. But I had no way of knowing where that was. The complete lack of recognition I saw on your face just before you disappeared was burned into my retinas, it starred in all my nightmares. I -- I couldn’t forgive myself, I just --” Her resolve crumbled, as she buried her face into my chest, weeping. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Cassandra, please forgive me, I searched for you, but couldn't find you, And I still love you so much.” I was at a loss for words, but I found tears all the same, and joined her in her weeping.
After I’d gotten to the point where my eyes stung and my nose was completely blocked, I managed to force my crying into a shuddering halt. “Please, just promise me. Promise me you aren’t lying to force me to give in to some curse you’ve placed on me.”
“I promise.” No hesitation came with it, no moment to collect herself; she blurted it out faster than I could finish saying my own piece. Part of me still knew she could be lying, that there could be some dark magic trapped within the collar around my neck that was molding me like clay into some plaything for her. But I didn’t get the sense that was what she wanted from me. Still, I had to know.
“Why enchant the collar, though? Why not just find me yourself and give me back the memories and body I lost?”
“Like I said, I tried to find you, but I didn’t know where to look. When we first met you were away from home and eager to leave your past behind you, so I knew little of it. And I didn’t put any spell on the collar, at least not intentionally. I think though, the residual sentiment and importance of it has given it a power on its own. A power that called out to you, that drew you here and reminded you of what you’d lost.” She fondly stroked the little ring of leather around my throat, as though thanking it for bringing me back to her.
“This collar was really that important to our relationship?”
“Sort of; realistically it was more all that it represents: fulfillment, safety, love. I’d have you wear it whenever you needed a break, it let you be whatever you needed to be to feel better.” Her words conjured up a memory in my mind, playing like some grainy video projected on a screen, only growing more crisp, more vivid, more real as it went on. I saw myself as a girl -- I looked so perfect, I needed to be like her -- I’d had a tough day, I’d been crying. Then Mistress offered me the collar, and the moment it went on that stress melted away. I just got to be hers in those moments as the rest of the world faded and blurred into the background of my life; we were the only people in the whole universe that mattered in those moments. The sexual pleasure was there, but beyond that was a far more deep-seated fulfillment that the pleasure was couched within.
And I could sense those feelings bubbling up inside me once more. The craving to give in and let myself be cared for, doted on, to forget my worries, even if for a little while, grew stronger and harder to suppress. The problem with forgetting my worries, though, was that said worries were directly in conflict with that desired outcome. But when she shyly, tentatively kissed me on the cheek, all of that stopped mattering as I let myself go.
Logically speaking, I knew I’d been breathing that whole time. For one, I couldn’t hold my breath for that long, for two, even if I could, I’d have passed out, and also certainly noticed the extreme discomfort. Regardless, when I exhaled a contented little sigh, it felt like that was the first real breath I’d let out for hours. And with that air I blew out, also went my worries, my resistance, my doubts. The floodgates opened then, the collar kicking into overdrive, smothering me in feelings and memories. In a matter of moments, I fell in love with her all over again as I saw the course of our relationship play out in my mind’s eye.
We were on a beach, sand between our toes, walking hand in hand as the waves rolled up to our ankles and receded. Each time the water rushed up to greet us she would jump a little, shivering and giggling. Nobody had ever told her the Pacfic was actually cold, even in California. We were on an ice cream date on a hot day; the guy giving our scoops had really overfilled my cone and I was taking way too long to eat it all. By the end my hands were completely browned, covered in sticky, melted rocky road that was overflowing off the sides. I looked like an absolute idiot, but somehow she found my struggles charming as I awkwardly opened the door to the nearest bathroom with my foot so I could wash up without ruining the poor door handle.
We were in bed together, both apprehensive in knowing we had something important to tell the other. Time and time again we nearly chickened out, feeding off of one another’s anxiety until we both blurted out our need to talk. We were making love for the first time after she’d given me a body to match my true self; I felt whole. Months had passed, I was crying, and I didn’t know why. Then she was behind me, cupping my cheek, soothing me. Shortly after we tried the collar for the first time, and when I let myself go for her, the hurt went away. The memories came faster and faster. We’d long since fallen in love, we agreed to move in together, we got engaged, and then it happened. The memory of losing myself was painful to see, but it closed the loop. And I was with her again; that made it impossible to feel anything but joy.
I blinked slowly, and raised my gaze to meet hers. And, for some stupid reason, after that untamed emotional and existential roller coaster, all I could think was wow, were her eyes always this pretty? Just seeing her made me gasp in a now soft, feminine voice, I hadn’t even noticed the physical changes, but apparently memories weren’t the only thing I’d regained. A part of me expected that realization to cue a sudden excited examination of the changes, but there was no need. It was my body; I’d had it for years, I was used to it, it was normal, like I’d slipped into a set of familiar, comfy pajamas after a long day of working in tight, restrictive clothes.
But anyway, her eyes, they were gorgeous. Still that same blue, but they hit differently considering I was in love with her again. Then I noticed she was crying, and, as it turned out, so was I. But that was okay, it was the good kind of crying. There was an extended pause accented only by occasional shudders and sobs and hiccups, then some laughter, a few sloppy, tear-stained kisses. We somehow both had to pry ourselves away from the other when it came time to break apart, and we lingered, lips brushing together as we panted and drank in one another’s presence. I smiled.
“Hey, Lucy. I missed you.” Then I kissed her again.
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OMG ???
Sweet
Omg aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa <3333333333333333
been a while since I read this maybe this time I won't
“Hey, Lucy. I missed you.”
*cries again*
aaaaa that was so sweet!!
Patreon exclusive ending huh well thats upsetting
I have at this point published two full novels and am in the process of publishing my third novella on this site, all of which are available for free. Having bonus chapters which really don't effect the main narrative arc but add little bits of bonus content and or smut available behind a (very, very cheap) pay wall to encourage people to compensate me for my work is far from unreasonable.