Are We Human? Ch. 05

"I... wait, really?"

Her left arm tensed, primed to strike him across the face. Better judgment reigned when she looked around and noticed that they had already begun to attract side glances from other dancers. She shook her head and let go of her pet's jaw.

"Okay, this is Abby Heyman talking to Drew Lawson: you are legitimately one of the stupidest people I have ever met. When this party is over, I'm going to make you read 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland' while I beat the living shit out of you with my shoe. Is that understood?"

Even the rational part of Drew's mind had to agree with Abby on this one. Upon reflection of the costumes he had seen, he realized all of them could be traced back to famous books. Carly was "The Scarlet Letter." Marc and Wendy were representing comic books. The wizards, detectives, queens, vampires, and even Christ Himself all had their respective places in famous literature. He could have made the case that they were often books about journeys, but the hole he was in was deep enough as it was.

"Understood, Lady Sparrow. I'm sorry I um... made an ass out of you and me."

Abby cracked an unintentional smile, then scrambled to wipe it from her face.

"You're so dumb."

"Yes, Lady Sparrow."

"Kiss me, dumb bunny."

"Happily, Lady Sparrow."

Her thin lips quickly claimed his own, leading the way for her body to come forward and press against him. Her fingers twirled around the pocket watch on his neck, while her other hand tested the waters below his belt to make sure he was appropriately appreciative of her generosity. He gasped into her mouth; the brainless boytoy was already throbbing.

"You're lucky I'm a nice drunk," she whispered to him.

"The luckiest," he sighed blissfully.

She rested her head on his shoulder and continued to sway him about, gifting him the occasional brush against his now prominent bulge. Songs came and went, but no shift in tone or tempo could pull the two of them apart. Even when someone put on a musical soundtrack and the theatre students erupted into singalongs, Abby and Drew continued to move to the beat of an unheard drum.

These turned out to be the best times; with everyone busy trying to one-up each other's musical performance, there was no one left to notice Lady Sparrow pulling her pet's hand under her dress. The compounding swell of voices helped cover her soft moaning as his fingers traced her over her underwear. His face showed great nervousness, but the eager pressure of his fingertips announced his true feelings: the game of teasing exposure was fun for both of them. Maybe it was liquor that emboldened him, or maybe it was the validating wetness seeping through her fabric that encouraged him to touch more, touch faster.

"And nobody in all of Oz..."

Drew's fingers crept beneath her underwear.

"...no wizard that there is or was..."

Lady Sparrow's lashes fluttered, her nails sinking in her bunny's back.

"...is ever gonna bring me dooooooown!"

The digits dove inside her, making her an unintentional addition to the crescendo. Her body braced itself against her slave, thighs clenched around the invasive hand. She felt them writhe and stroke, a sensation that lingered even after Drew slid them out at the finale of the song. In a daze, she watched the slut lick his fingers clean, then lean forward to share the wonderful flavor with her. Her tongue pushed wildly into him, incensed from the frustration that he had left her with.

But the crowd had hit their climax, and their refractory period meant a return to subtlety for the pair. Drew placed his head on Abby's shoulder, and she nuzzled his hair and long ears while her frustrations stayed stored for a later date. Dancing with her plaything filled her with lust and love, but, like her plaything before her, she couldn't escape a persistent, invasive worry. As nice as this moment was, the nagging question eventually won out.

In a gentle tone, Abby asked, "does it really bother you that much? Your friends knowing about us?"

His arms tightened around her. He closed his eyes as he sorted through the painful feelings that plagued him incessantly.

It was barely audible when he told her, "I just don't want to scare them away. How can I expect them to understand me when I don't even understand myself? I'm a freak, Lady Sparrow. Freaks scare people."

It was Abby's turn to tighten her grip on her partner.

"Baby, does being with me make you happy?"

"More than anything else."

"Real friends would want you to be happy. Even if they don't understand it, they should just be happy that you're happy. It might be an icky sort of happiness to them, but it's happiness, and it doesn't come around for everyone. Anyone who gives an honest damn about you would say that you deserve it."

Abby kissed him, still and reassuring against his quivering lips.

"I say you do," she told him. "And they should agree with me because I'm always right."

"Yes Lady Sparrow, you're always right."

But the fear was still in his voice. It wasn't the groveling, reverent fear that she enjoyed; it was an abscess. It was a thorn in his heart carrying a worsening infection. His suffering only pleased her when the slut hiding beneath his mask begged her for it. Dull, sad pain did not suit him. He was built for sharp pain at her discretion; anything else was undeserved, unwelcome in this mind that belonged to her. Being his mistress meant being responsible for him, and that meant caring for him in his times of most vulnerable need.

Abby was set to tell him all this. Just as the words were about to leave her mouth, however, her bunny's ears perked up to a sound in the room. For some reason, amongst an impossible litany of noise, this sound stood out. She tracked his eyes to a pulsing congregation near the front door.

"...she took the midnight train going an-y-whereeeee!"

A musical tumor had formed around a group of five people dressed in leather jackets. They were miming manically on inflatable instruments; the glowing girl with the microphone was leading the audience in a passionate rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'." Everyone knew that song: it was Journey's biggest hit.

"Do you know them?" Abby asked cautiously.

"Uh-huh."

Drew's rabbit instincts told him to scamper away, to hide from the confrontation that was slowly making its way toward him. Abby could see this plan playing out in his head, but her pet stayed latched onto her. It could have been that the shock had frozen him, but she wanted to think it was because he knew the safest place for him to be was wrapped in her arms.

They were headed for the bar, a path that took them through the dining room and right up to Abby and Drew. He stared at them the entire time they approached and made no effort to hide himself. His brain had sprinted itself into exhaustion, and now it was giving itself over to fatalism. Fatima recognized him first; after several double-takes, she pushed her way forward to confirm what her eyes had told her.

"Drew?!"

The perplexed gapes came in waves as the other members of Journey caught up to their lead singer and stumbled upon the same unbelievable sight: Drew Lawson on the dance floor, surrounded by theatre kids, dressed as a bunny rabbit in the protective grasp of a woman dressed as Alice.

"Terry, are you sure there were no psychedelics at that last party? Because I'm starting to see some really weird shit right now," Nathan said.

"Uh... hi everyone," Drew greeted blankly.

No one seemed certain how to process this chance meeting. Luckily for everyone, Abby was on Drew's side, and she stuck her hand forward fearlessly.

"You must be the friends I've heard so much about. My name is Abby Heyman, welcome to my party," she introduced.

Fatima was the first to return the greeting. She accepted the handshake, introduced herself, and thanked her enthusiastically for her hospitality. The other members repeated the gesture, shaking her hand and giving their names. Abby repeated each of their names after they spoke, demonstrating an eagerness to commit them to memory.

"Drew told me you guys were at another party tonight. Something about a journey," she chatted.

"Yeah, we went the Journey party," Terry explained. "It was fun for a bit, but everyone had the same idea we had to go as the band Journey, and then they played nothing but Journey music the entire time, but apart from 'Don't Stop Believin',' no one actually likes Journey, so the joke got old pretty quickly."

"My friend Rayna told me about this party though," Fatima continued. "It's Famous Lit-erature, right?"

"That's right! She must be friends with my roommate then, Carly Holiday."

"She must be. And don't worry, we can still fit in with your theme!"

Beth pulled out her phone and passed it to Abby. On the screen was a book cover for "Don't Stop Believin': The Untold Story of Journey" by Neil Daniels.

"We are now the written biography of Journey. Doesn't get any more famous than that," she beamed.

"Thank you for respecting our theme! We're glad to have some celebrities here to boost our rep."

Attention turned naturally to Drew, who, apart from his meager greeting, had not said a word. In truth, he had tuned out for most of this conversation, hopelessly lost in his mind. He awoke to the pressure of unsaid questions surrounding him.

He broke his silence to ask, "did you guys know that 'Alice in Wonderland' is based on a book?"

"Wait, for real?" Nathan asked in return.

"Is this seriously not common knowledge?" Abby burst.

"I assure you, it is," Terry told her. "These two are outliers."

"You guys did a great job with it!" Margot encouraged. "That dress is perfect on you."

Beth added, "that's a cute look for you Drew. You oughta wear that furry shit more often."

Before he could stammer a bumbling response, Abby jumped in to rescue him.

"I was so happy when he agreed to it. A lot of guys would never be comfortable enough, but Drew can rock it no problem. I think it's pretty hot to be confident like that."

She wove her fingers between his and held his hand against her lips so she could kiss him on the knuckle. She gave him a warm, loving glance, which he was able to eventually reciprocate after his brain caught up to what she had said. It wasn't clear to him whether she meant it or whether she was just covering him from the mockery, but it hardly mattered. Abby's response made him sound like a champion.

"Bunnies are cute, and so am I. I figured if anyone could make it work, it'd be me," he boasted.

Abby made a show of laughing as her fingers clenched harshly around his. She kept this gesture out of the public eye, but there was no way she would let Drew think her mercy would permit the development of an ego. His face broke into a slight wince, but he covered it up quickly and resumed his smug smile.

"Any bunny I know would be peeved to be compared to you," Terry remarked.

"Oh shut up, Terry," Fatima rebuffed. "I think he makes an excellent White Rabbit."

"Thank you, Fatima," he said sweetly.

He turned to Terry and flipped him a subtle bird. The embarrassment over his costume was dissipating quickly; if he owned the look, no one could shame him for it.

"But to be fair, I really had nothing to do with it. The costume was A-"

Drew stopped to clear his throat. The group looked at him expectantly, none more eager than Abby to hear who he was about to credit with the costume.

"...Alice's idea," he finished.

"You're really sticking to kayfabe here. Good man," Nathan commended, patting him on the shoulder.

"Yes, well done," Abby congratulated.

She grinned at him, and the dark twinkle in her eye warned him of the disaster he just barely avoided. The boy had been conditioned well; even in the presence of friends, he still respected her law.

"Anyway, if you guys are looking for drinks, we have a bar set up in the kitchen. I'm not sure what's left, but whatever's there is yours to take," the hostess offered.

Margot thanked her for her hospitality on behalf of the group before leading the band into the kitchen. Once alone in the crowd again, Abby and Drew turned to each other.

"They seem nice," she told him.

"I'm sorry I almost-"

She silenced him with her lips.

"But you didn't," she soothed, pulling away. "What a smart little pet you are."

The White Rabbit nuzzled her caressing hand, relieved to be out of the sight of his friends.

"And see? The costume was no big deal. I told you, they'll be happy as long as you're happy."

"You're always right, Lady Sparrow."

She kissed him on the forehead.

"I'm proud of you, bunny. Now, I'm gonna let you off the leash tonight. I won't tease you in front of your friends. You're gonna repay this kindness later, understood?"

"Understood."

Off the leash? This was not a kindness he anticipated. Abby, who sought to embarrass him at every turn, was now promising to keep Lady Sparrow at bay. She was handing him a mask of normalcy, a gift reflective of a degree of mercy that he hadn't seen from her before. He would have thought she would be determined to stake her claim to him in front of his friends, but no; Abby wanted to shield him from the damning revelation. Apparently, she had become sympathetic to his dilemma. This was probably a result of the vodka, but Drew had little interest in dissecting the matter. He was safe tonight, that was the important thing.

Abby rattled her empty cup and handed it to Drew. Wordlessly, he nodded and dashed over to the bar. His friends were huddled around the countertop, gluttonously helping themselves to the bottles that remained. Drew made room for himself between Beth and Margot and fixed Abby's order.

"So your girl was hosting a party, and you didn't invite us?" Fatima interrogated.

Drew explained, "it's her roommate's party. I'm just here to keep her company, I didn't know if it was open invitation."

"Well did you bother to ask?"

"Easy, Fatima, easy," Margot pacified. "It's okay for us to do our own thing sometimes. I know he didn't mean anything by it."

Fatima grumbled, "at least Rayna came through for us. I'm gonna go find her."

She glugged on her cocktail and marched off with Nathan and Terry in tow. Margot and Beth stayed with Drew as he made his own drink.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he said quietly.

"We know," Margot assured him. "You're entitled to your privacy if you want it."

"She's just a little liquored up right now. She's gonna dance herself wild and get really emotional, and she'll either cry about how much she values you as a friend or she'll throw a bitchfit about nothing. You know, like last night," Beth described.

"Is that what happened last night?" Drew asked. "I seriously don't remember."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

The three of them headed back to where Abby was dancing in a bubble of her own. She graciously accepted the drink from Drew, and the four of them clinked their cups together. There they were: four normal students, engaging in college's most cherished of recreational activities. The party was boisterous, the music was raging, the alcohol flowed freely, and the dance floor was pulsating with convulsing limbs, fluttering hair, and swaying hips. This was normal life. This is what humans did.

And Drew was going mad.

He was so close to her. He could smell her sweat, every drop evaporating in a cloud of rose water, oat milk, and lavender. Her short hair swept with immaculate grace as she turned in slow motion to rapid beats. Drew couldn't stop himself from gawking at the way her chest rose and fell with her exasperated breath, or the way her dress would twirl and tease a view of that heaven just above her white stockings. His fingers twitched, dying to be grabbed and fed to her pussy once more.

But he was off the leash. No more play tonight. Lady Sparrow was showing him mercy for being such a good, loyal servant. She could have broadcasted his whorish ways in front of all of them if she chose to, but she didn't. Isn't this what Drew wanted? His secret was safe. His friends were dancing inches from the truth, and they couldn't see it right in front of their faces. After all of his panic and dread, everything had turned out rosy.

It wasn't enough. Good God, it wasn't enough! In a cruel twist of Morissetian irony, the slut in his heart could not be bound and gagged. It ripped through its handcuffs and chewed through its ballgag to rage rage from within his chest. It would not be tamed! Drew was a fucking animal with one single purpose: pursue his mate. Do anything for her. She was his only concern, and he needed her more than he needed air, more than he needed life, and more than he needed secrets.

Abby finally noticed his unyielding stare. She turned on him with a quizzical expression that twisted even further when she witnessed his dancing change. It was no longer occupied with the music; it was a dance for her. His hips moved for her, purposefully sensual in their dips and sways. He shook his bunny tail and made himself too cute to resist. He parted his pouting lips and blew her small, blatant kisses as his fingers twirled around his necklace. All the while his eyes stayed locked on her, daring Lady Sparrow to emerge from Abby's psyche.

Drew could see it happening. Confusion gave way to shock and cautious glances toward Margot and Beth. Then the dancing started to captivate her, bringing her own lust to the surface. He wanted to entice her, that's what sluts do. He didn't care about secrecy or decency; all he cared about was being put in his place and used like a worthless piece of meat. God, he was so easy. Absolutely pathetic. And yet, she couldn't turn away from him. The boy was filling her head with images of what she would do if she dragged him by that fucking pocket watch into her bedroom and pushed him onto the bed and made him lick up every Goddamn drop from vulva because that pooling wetness between her legs was his doing and he fucking knew it too.

That's what really pissed her off: he knew damn well what he was doing. She had told him she wouldn't tease him tonight, and now he was teasing her right back. This would not do. Lady Sparrow would not let this bullshit slide. Drew would die before he ever got one over on her.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," she announced. "Drew, would you come with me?"

"Of course," he said in a voice so sweet it called for an insulin shot.

Beth and Margot waved them off, too wrapped up in the tumult to pay much mind to them. Abby was not gentle as she made a beeline for her bedroom; her hand clasped tightly around Drew's wrist, only because she thought she'd break the necklace if she tried to pull him along by that. It mattered far less to her if she broke his wrist. None of this seemed to bother Drew; he was about to get what he wanted. His slutty heart was beating out of his chest when she swung the door open and pulled him inside, before locking it behind them.

Abby took his drink and placed it on the desk along with her own. The music outside was nearly deafening, so there was no need for her to pull the slap that sent her slave crumbling to his knees.

"How fucking dare you?" Lady Sparrow scolded. " I was being kind to you, and you throw it back in my face? You ungrateful little shit, how dare you disrespect me like that!"

Drew held his stinging cheek and stared in horror at his enraged Domme. What had he just unleashed? Why did he ever think provoking her was a good idea? His heart was still beating fiercely, but his giddy excitement had curdled into acidic fear.

"Lady Sparrow, I'm-"

It was as though she leapt across the room. He didn't even see her move, but suddenly, she was upon him, pinning his arms to the ground. Her scowl was foaming with rabid anger; every guttural growl was answered with a whimper and a frantic slew of apologies, none of which were able placate her. Within her eyes, Drew watched her subject him to every layer of Hell, punishment eternal for his sins against Goddess.