White Knight's Burden Ch. 02

I could undo it all, of course. Reverse and correct those deeds done by someone who was not me. It was as easy for me as turning the page of a book.

Claire and I had returned to Kimiko and had spent a few hours relaxing by the lake, as though nothing had happened. And nothing had happened; for I had made it all go away.

I learned two things that day:

First, losing my temper and self-control meant that I also loosened the restraint over the power I held over Claire.

Second, Claire would try to adapt and recontextualize commands as something she herself desired, and needed done by her own volition. If that didn't make sense, she would struggle and fight. But it was a futile effort; she would inevitably break down and give in.

After the lakeside incident, I had determined that I ought to stay away from Claire and Kimiko. I had to face that I harbored some deeply disturbing thoughts concerning the two of them that I, try as I might, couldn't completely press down, no matter how nice I tried to be.

For the better part of a week I had kept myself in isolation, fearing that any encounter with Claire would trigger something in me that I couldn't control. I had replied dismissively and curtly to her messages, blaming sickness and school projects whenever she reached out.

Kimiko's emergency family troubles hadn't been possible to anticipate, and had been what forced me to end my solitary confinement. Claire had called me late yesterday evening, close to tears, to let me know that she recognized that she asked a lot, but they really, really needed a driver to get Kimiko to the airport. Simply hearing my best friend's voice again, I had felt a pang of longing, and after a brief hesitation I had agreed to help them out.

To keep neglecting the use of my power, to stay alone like some pathetic hermit because I was scared of potential future mistakes, was irrational cowardice. It was up to me to master this power. For Claire's sake.

"Hmm, you wanna watch something before it gets too late? Movie? Anime? Streams of some cringe?" Claire asked, slinging me back from daydreams to reality with a simple question, just as readily as a playful karate chop had.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure, just let me finish this real quick." I told her, typing a couple more lines of code for my game.

"Bleh! Working on a Friday night." Claire leaned over to peek my screen. She squinted. "Let me fix your stuff up real quick? There's a couple of potential issues with your formatting here and there which could turn out to be a pain in the long run."

Right, she was godly at 3D-modeling now, and with that apparently followed some general programming chops. "No, no that's fine, I like it as it is, Clairebear. Just gimme a couple of minutes to-"

"Okay, but while I'm waiting-" She floated up from the sofa, and twirled an impromptu pirouette to hover in the space between TV and where I sat. "Do something like, weird!"

I kept my eyes on my laptop's screen. "Weird, huh? What do you have in mind?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. But you've probably thought a whole lot of weird uses for this magical stuff of yours, right? Your thing is to always ponder and overthink each and every little detail. Like, flying and speaking languages is cool and all but where's the, umm, the 'Claire-branded' laser beams? Time travel powers? Fingertips of divinity that can turn water to wine?"

Weird stuff. The innocence on display made me yet again recall how Claire had been all over me in my car. "Master." Weird stuff. Stop that! Claire was my best friend, this "power of dominion" should be used to her benefit. Not for myself. Never for myself.

"Weird stuff? Like, uhh-" My fingers smattered over my keyboard in a bid to keep my mind out of the gutter, instead staying focused on unfeeling, no-nonsense rows of code. Weird stuff. Weird stuff. Oh! That was good.

Your hair is blonde.

Claire didn't notice that something was amiss until a few seconds had passed. That's when she grabbed a couple of strands of now blonde bangs and made a disappointed grimace. "What the hell? This is not weird at all, Greg. Just lame as fuck!"

My mouth fell open--instead of her natural, dark blonde locks that I had intended to bring back, Claire looked like she had dunked her hair in a vat of hydrogen peroxide to let soak there until the vibrant explosion of colors had drowned and died. The slice of rainbow that normally crowned her head had given way for hair almost white; I had given her bimbo hair.

"Oh, sorry." I guffawed. "I figured it'd be fun to get a look at you with your natural hair back again. Didn't intend for you to get another dye job. You're... uhh, giving off a very different vibe than usual." She truly did; coupled with her healthy tan, my best friend looked so unalike herself! More like an influencer social media addict than a socially conscious feminist artist.

"Pfft! Why the heck would you even want to mess with my hair, Gregory? Is there a conservative little fuckwad hiding somewhere inside of you? Provoked by my pride or something?" Claire crossed her arms and huffed, flitting up and down in place like an angry bee. My innocent little screw-up had actually made my best friend upset.

"Aww c'mon, you asked me to do something weird and I tried to oblige! Relax, I'll swap it back." I replied, and with a thought, I undid my changes to her hair.

Claire scrutinized the reverted hair in her grasp closely before she breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, apology accepted. But don't think I'm gonna forget about this. Heh! Greg, the bimbo chaser perv!"

"Sure, sure." I muttered, and shifted my attention back to programming. "I'm the sort of dude who just can't get enough of vapid women. You know, my lifestyle, down to spending all my time with a duo of lesbian 'art hoes' and developing an indie game that won't sell for shit has all been meticulously set up with the singular goal of attracting hot, blonde bimbo-type chicks." I clicked my tongue for emphasis, to really drive home the irony. "You've at last managed to pin-point my type of woman, Claire, after about 15 years of friendship."

You need me to change your hair back to platina blonde. I thought, and snickered as I willed a playful new command into her head. I had to mess with her a little, as revenge for how she teased me.

"Ugh! Stop it! If you're gonna act all sardonic and glib like that you're just taking the fun out of it, man!" Claire still held onto a few strands of her rainbow hair, and brought it under scrutiny once more. "I mean, I guess a change of hairstyle could be fun. Just like, for this weekend, I guess. It is a pretty weird change, like you said."

"You sure, Claire? What about me being a secret servant of the patriarchy or whatever you were just going on about?" I grinned up to the flying woman. This was fun. A joke, no big deal.

"Well, that was, umm, y'know, me just messing a bit with you, Greg!" She reflected my grin back, but her eyes signaled confusion at her own insistence. The familiar wrinkle showed on her forehead. "It... it could be fun to try it and see, right? I mean, just imagine whenever we decide to go clubbing next time! With me sporting hair like that, if I actually bothered to dress the part as well, I could probably get you, me and Kim into tons of places. Places we'd most certainly hate to be in, but still!" She shrugged. "Screw it, let's go! Why not see if blondes have more fun. Could you, umm, please change my hair again, Greg?"

I held quiet for a few seconds, as if carefully considered her request. "Okay. I'll do it if you say please."

Now it was Claire's turn to remain silent. The grin died out, and after a long wait she whined out: "Fine, fiiiine, I'll do it!"

Flying extremely close to me, she twirled locks of her hair around her fingers and batted her eyelids. She smacked her lips and puckered them, blowing me a kiss, and when she spoke the British accent was back, but this time she settled for a higher pitch, begging for my help in some form of mock sing-song upper-class rich girl voice. "Please, please, pretty pwease, Mr. Greg. I know you wuw bimbo girls so, so much. Could you puh-leeze make Clairedoll's hair all blonde and fluffy-wuffy again."

"Gladly." I replied, and obliged her. I hated myself over how much Claire's lampooning show secretly appealed to me. A little, at least. Some feminist I was...

Claire let out a huge sigh of relief, and used her cellphone camera as a mirror to inspect herself. "Whew, much, much better!" This is kinda nice, I guess." She giggled throwing her new hair back. "Honestly, feels pretty great! Kimiko's gonna freak when she gets back, but that could be all kinds of fun, too. Besides, that grump's probably got a bunch of pent up revenge fantasies revolving around dominating some blonde cheerleader type." Claire halted her speech, and tilted her head my way. "Oh, sorry. T.M.I? I know you're a bit sensitive when it comes to hearing stuff like that about me and her."

"Nah, that's okay. I'll-"

"Okay, okay! More weird stuff, pretty please!"

"More? I just did your hair!"

"Sure sure, but that's something I could do myself with just a trip to the hairdresser. You're not exactly putting your earth-shattering magic powers to test here, Greg."

"Okay." I glanced from my computer screen, shifting my focus between my code and the eagerly awaiting, floating girl. "Let's see, something 'earth-shattering', hmm?"

I thought back to Claire's reaction to the blonde hair, and how it had taken her a second to even spot the change. Messing with Claire's perception of the changes we did to her would be interesting. If something went wrong, I could just reverse it. I skimmed through a few of the revised lines on my screen, detailing mapping and pathfinding data for the "Dark Elf Huntress Yumina" character, and then turned my attention to Claire. Sure, that'd be "weird" enough for her, to be sure.

Your name is Yumina. It has always been Yumina.

"Still waiting for something to happen, man." Claire cleared her throat, after a few seconds of silence.

"Oh? You're not feeling any different then, Claire?"

She squinted at me, suspiciously. "Who's Claire?" The quizzical squint made way for a grin. "Waaait, did you just try to change my name or something!? Pfft, if you're gonna pick a new name for me, at least land on something cooler than 'Claire'."

"Yumina?" I stressed the three syllables as I spoke them aloud. Yu-mi-na.

"Yup."

"You're..." My mouth felt dry as I spoke. I grabbed hold of my phone and checked my messages. Sure enough, all mentions and messages from Claire was gone. Countless conversations back and forth, all now filed under the new name. "You're Yumina!" Yu-mi-na.

"Sure am, bud! Jeez, what's up with you, Greg? I mean, I know my name's weird as heck--thanks a lot for that mom and dad!--but at least you should've gotten used to it by now!"

"You're not... Claire. My best friend. Claire." Saying it out loud was strange. I felt lightheaded, like I was soaring high above, and the words just fell off my tongue.

The flying girl glared at me, seeming equal amounts confused and frustrated. "Uhh, no?! But I am your childhood friend, Yumina. What's... what's going on right now, Greg?"

I dry-swallowed. I felt hot of all sudden, almost feverish, as the weight of what I had just done began to settle in me. "Cla- err, Yumina, I mean. I've... your name used to be Claire. I used the magic just now to umm, rename you."

She laughed at first, as though I had told her a strange jest. But when I didn't join in on the laughter, she quieted down. "That's... that's not a fun joke, Greg!"

I stayed silent.

"Are you... serious?" She stammered out, descending from the air as if she needed to feel solid ground under her feet. "W-what do you mean you 'renamed me'? What about all these memories of mine? Mom telling me of the special meaning 'Yumina' held for her, the reason she picked such a strange name for her daughter? All the mean names people have called me? The few nicknames I've actually liked? What's-"

"Calm down, Claire!" I interjected.

"My name's not fucking Claire, Greg!!" She surprised me with a shrill cry, her voice breaking. "I'm called Yumina! Stop messing with me! This is not fun at all, you're-"

"No. Just... Just shut up for a second!" I sprung up from the sofa with a roar loud enough to silence her hysterics. "It's... this is all just too... Holy fuck! Y-you're the one who don't seem to understand what this means! The implications of... Fuck..!"

It was as though my mind was in the process of shattering; something new, a deeper understanding, forming from its broken shards.

"It's... it's been so goddamn obvious since day one, but I've... I've just tried to deny it, haven't I? Kept going through the motions, held on to my rituals of noble self sacrifice for Claire's sake, even though I could have... changed it all with a thought." I had seen Claire on her knees, obedient, worshiping me. Mistakes.

I rubbed my head, pacing back and forth in the living room. "But... b-but Claire's gone!! Isn't she?! You even said so yourself--you're not Claire! She's...she's actually been gone since the day I acquired this power..! Fucking hell!" My hemming and hawing rose in intensity, in aggression. "You're... you don't exist on your own anymore. As something independent!"

"You're not Claire, are you?" I pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at the woman who stood paralyzed, too stunned to process the frantic outburst before her. "You begged me to bleach your try-hard rainbow hair away for some slutty thot look to go with your tan! The woman I admired so much would never..! Never! You're even named something utterly ridiculous, christened after a stupid dark elf bitch from my computer game!"

"You're... fake." I spat out. My words felt so heavy, held so much vitriol that I could choke on them. But all I said was true, wasn't it? "A replica! Someone--or something--pretending to be Claire. Because I've allowed you to. Because I've restrained myself to... to still let you be her!" The hand and finger I pointed at her quaked, as I ended my rant with a sniffle and shout.

The blonde girl's eyes were wide as saucers and she stared at me as though she saw an actual monster in her living room. Not the sort of creature that made her terrified--the girl who looked like Claire instead looked sad and disappointed. "You're... scaring me, Greg. Where's all this terrible stuff even coming from? I... I want you to leave. Now!"

The genuine hurt in the words that sounded like they came from my best friend caught me off guard. For a split second, I felt panicked by my own actions. Then, I reminded myself--the girl who spoke was not Claire. She was a husk wearing the guise of my best friend. It acted like this, and tried to manipulate me into believing it was Claire, because that's what I had commanded it to do. I could simply change the way she behaved.

"You still don't get it, do you 'Yumina'?" I met the fake's teary eyes with a hard gaze. Her words--how she so shamelessly used my emotions and niceness to hurt me--pissed me me off. "You don't have 'wants' unless I let you. You're not even... a real person, and it's fucking silly for you to pretend. Here, let me show you."

You are extremely horny and in need of release. Seduce me. Make me want to stay. You need me to stay.

The girl shuddered in a quiet, still whimper as her mind was whipped to submission in an instant. She took two tentative steps towards me, spurred on by my desire, and then alighted from the floor. The replica flew up to me and threw her arms around my neck.

"I'm so sorry for what I said, Greg." She whispered, nibbling on my ear as her fingers caressed my neck and shoulders. The slutty platina hair felt soft like down against my skin. "Please, stay with me. Don't leave. I'm so stupid."

The replica's breath was heavy as she brushed her lips down my neck, planting soft kisses everywhere on her trek towards my mouth. The girl wrapped her legs around me, leveraging her supernatural weightlessness by lifting both legs high up on my back, while she let her hands roam free over my body.

She kissed a trail from my collarbone up my throat, and then to my chin before finally nearing my mouth. I could feel her nipples harden, and she pressed herself against me, the flimsy dress hiking up on her skinny thighs.

"Greg... I want this. Please, give it to me. Stay." She moaned, her closed eyelids fluttered as she leaned in for a kiss. I reciprocated immediately. The sensation of the lips I had been dreaming of for so very long finally pressed against mine; it made something like jolts of electricity course through my body. Her tongue felt like it was alive as it slid across mine, swirling around in an erotic dance that had me keeping pace, writhing underneath of her. This imitation of Claire felt so soft, warm, and real. We deepened our lip lock as she ground her hips, pressing her sex against me as she squeezed her thighs down my sides.

A need to discipline her surged from within me. I grabbed a fistful of the girl's blonde hair, and tore her thirsty lips from mine. The slut struggled, trying to snake free from my hold, desperate to kiss me more, to do what needed--seduce me into wanting to stay by her side. I dismissed the pangs of guilt over how much I enjoyed the sight of someone who looked like Claire struggle under a crazed desire to satisfy me. This was fair--until now it had always been me who had been pining after her.

The frantic bitch yowled and panted trying to press her lips to mine as I controlled her by my grip of her hair. Her hips pumped in rhythm with her legs, wrapped around me, the tight body shaking as though she was nearing orgasm. She pulled and pinched her breasts with one hand, while the other hand tried in desperation to get down my pants despite her duress.

To see this blonde and tanned bimbo-copy of my best friend work herself into heat to satisfy my commands stoked my lust, but also filled me with something close to revulsion. How could this slut be so fucking easy to manipulate? Drop all pretense of being a respectable clone of my Claire and instead beg for my forgiveness and dick like some weak-willed bitch?

I tightened my grip of her hair. "Didn't you just ask me to leave? What happened to all that? Aren't you always going on and on about how much of a strong woman you are?" I grunted out, shaking the girl's head by her hair. My cock twitched at the sight, solid as a steel rod as I finally challenged her.

In a rare show of defiance, as if provoked by my question, I sensed how the soul I held dominion over struggled and strained at its leash; she wrested some semblance of control back for a moment. No matter, she would give after soon.

"This, is your..." My belonging moaned out and squirmed from pleasure, all but a sliver of her still obeying me, the slut grinding her hips, tugging at her breasts. "Why..? What's wrong with you, Greg?" The cumdoll that held semblance to Claire asked, and bit into her lip and groaned from satisfaction.

Her blonde whore-hair was spread in a cobweb mess over her face, she was languishing with pleasure enough to drive her mad. But hearing her words, I could only take note of the tears (of ecstasy) that streaked down the girl's cheeks.

"What's wrong with you, Greg?" Claire's body was shaking, climbing towards orgasm, with me still gripping her by her hair. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth and her eyes spun without focus. But I only saw how her forehead was furrowed, a slight wrinkle dancing there as she closed her eyelids and moaned and panted like possessed. Her body tensed, and she whimpered my name.

She was a fake. A marionette. A doll for me to toy with. She was not even Claire--she was Yumina! But she looked so much like my best friend still. My belonging's mind and body gave after for the extreme pleasure that coursed and multiplied through her body as she finally burst, releasing all tension in irresistible orgasm. Yet Claire looked sad to me. Sad, abandoned, betrayed. A broken doll with a malfunctioning voice box, repeating my name over and over, each time more distorted and warped with raw emotion.