I woke up the morning of June 10th, 2288, and I felt empty. Almost eight months had passed since I emerged from the vault, and Shaun felt further away than ever. And in the meantime, what had I accomplished? In theory, I'd become the ruler of a 20 mile strip running from Concord to Natick; a respectable little fiefdom by medieval standards. But I didn't want to lead a fiefdom. I wanted to rebuild what we'd lost, and make it better. And I wasn't sure how much progress I'd made on that account. 

 

Yes, it seemed like relations were warming a little with Vault 81. Yes, I was poised to see a real return of the free press to the Commonwealth once Publick Occurences finished its move to Concord. Yes, despite all the cyclical shortages of cloth, fertilizer, machine parts, you name it, slowly but surely the food supply was getting more reliable and raider activity inside Vault 111's sphere of influence was subsiding. Hell, as Old Paul's project to extract and purify water from the flooded tunnels under Concord had matured, we'd become a net exporter of purified water.

 

And yet, I felt like I was failing. I missed Nate. I missed Shaun. And now, with Winter still spending most of her time at Abernathy Farm and with Piper back in Diamond City, I felt deeply lonely. I could tell that Curie was trying to cheer me up, but her companionship just wasn't the same - couldn't be the same - as the women who my people were referring to more and more openly as my wives. Susan was still there with me, of course, but the revelation of her ties to the Institute had erected a barrier between us. I was on a course that would inevitably take me into conflict with the Institute, and so when it came to my search for Shaun or even my day to day dilemmas of leadership, I couldn't share any of that with her. 

 

 

And the Institute wasn't my only worry. Ever since their airship had casually flown across the Commonwealth to moor at Logan Airport, we'd been seeing more and more signs of the Brotherhood of Steel. Their vertibirds traced across the sky, carrying out whatever mission they were set on, and Preston had shared with me that the Minutemen were encountering armored Brotherhood patrols with increasing regularity. The self-styled knights were always courteous and never threatened our people, but their very presence made my uncomfortable. Their insular nature, I was sure, concealed goals that ran counter to my own, and I feared the day when the mask would come off.

 

We'd also far from quelled the raider problems. Yes, our inner territories were now largely secure, but at the edges we had regular clashes with the Rust Devils, the Gunners, and with the raider gangs that inhabited Lexington. Red Tourette's people had even had to fight off a large incursion of feral ghouls that had targeted their underground base. That said, it was Red Tourette who seemed to offer at least a partial solution. Since she'd established her blockade at Natick, a slow trickle of Raiders had been crossing the line and defecting to her Rangers. Tracey had made the trip from Sanctuary to Natick to consult with her, and she came back with an ambitious plan: set up a powerful transmitter at the Federation Ration Stockpile and start actively trying to poach raiders away from their gangs and into the Rangers. As much as Red had bludgeoned her way past my misgivings with her almost childlike charm, I still had deep concerns about recruiting raiders en masse, and I was slow-walking the whole proposal. I didn't want to shoot it down out of hand, but I wasn't ready to approve it yet, either.

 

Not everything was doom and gloom. For example, Jake's work with the ASAM sensors was really starting to bear fruit. I mentioned the water project before, and the upgraded ASAM firmware had been the missing part of the puzzle for getting really extensive water reclamation going. At the same time, I'd received a report that the robots at Graygarden had uprooted most of their mutfruit orchard and were in the process of building a coffee factory; they'd downloaded plans for a bean farm from the ASAM sensors and then adapted it for raising and processing silt beans. Piper was going to be delighted once they hit their full stride with production. 

 

And then there was the matter of my 'cabinet.' I wasn't sure how to feel about it, to be honest. The impromptu governing council that the mayors had formed had kept everything together during our war with Kellogg, and as far as I could tell all of their decisions had been sound. On the other hand, I think I might have gotten a little too used to being a dictator, because when they made suggestions (and by that I mean, "suggestions," in air quotes), it rankled me when I realized the weren't really giving me much of a choice. This came to a head that June 10th afternoon during yet another meeting to discuss our plans and our problems. 

 

 

It all started with a compliment. I'd been appreciating the work that everyone at Concord had been doing renovating the Museum of Freedom - and in particular, I mentioned that Preston was going to love living here once we officially handed it over to the Minutemen. That triggered a series of uncomfortable glances between the members of my self-appointed cabinet: Connie Abernathy, Jake Evans, Stef Ainsleigh, Trudy ('just Trudy'), and Captain Dean. Theoretically Red Tourette was part of the group as well, but she was still down in Natick. Likewise, Bart had an open seat in his name, but more often than not he let Stef speak for Ridge, and today was one of those days.

 

"While you were away," Stef finally spoke, "we talked about your plan to hand over the museum. The problem is, you need a place to live, and a place to work when you aren't out in the field."

 

"I'm not sure how that's a problem," I said, "I've done just fine with the downtown apartment."

 

"I agree, but that won't be like that forever. You're going to need to conduct official business, meet with other leaders, hammer out deals, things like that. And your little apartment won't get that job done. Also, you need a place where you can actually have some privacy to relax. So we've decided that you won't give the Museum to Preston. It's going to be your, well, I suppose you wouldn't like calling it your palace, would you?"

 

 

"Jesus Christ," I groaned, "you are not going to set me up in a palace."

 

"Fine, fine," Stef conceded, "it'll be your, um, what was your suggestion, Jake?"

 

"Executive office building," the sole man present drawled. "The north wing of the building will have your new, larger apartment along with your official office and meeting room - this space, actually - and your day residence downstairs. The south wing will have office space for your eventual government employees. Meanwhile, we'll move a lot of the clutter and heavy equipment," he waved his hand towards the power armor cradles on the far side of the room, "down to the basement and refurbish the workshop area down there."

 

 

"That's better," I started, before I paused and resumed with, "but hold up a second. You decided that I won't give the Museum to Preston?" I put a bit of emphasis on 'decided.' 

 

"Charley," Connie said, "don't take this the wrong way, but running all this isn't a job for one person. These little day to day decisions are going to be a distraction for you, and frankly everyone sees how much stress this job puts on you. So we'll take care of the little things and let you focus on the big decisions."

 

"But I promised Preston he could use the Museum. It's significant to the rebuilt Minutemen. You're going back on promises I made, and it's going to undermine my credibility."

 

"Alright, calm down, Charley," Connie soothed, "I already talked with Preston and he agrees with our plan. You know as well as we do that the Minutemen are eventually going to want to take back the Castle and make that their home. And that's twice as important now that the Brotherhood is squatting at the old airport. The Castle's too strategic a position to ignore or, worse yet, let someone else have. So Preston doesn't need an... 'executive office building.' You do."

 

 

"And more to the point," Trudy broke in, "this is exactly why you need us to take some of this load off of you. You would have insisted that Preston take the Museum, and it only would have led to a conflict of interest in the future. If the Minutemen are going to be independent, they can't have their headquarters a block away from your apartment."

 

"OK," I conceded, "you may have a point. But I still would have appreciated being involved in the discussion."

 

"Sweetie," Trudy said, "you've barely got out of bed for the last three days. You're not doing a great job masking that depression of yours. That's the other job we have - to keep things running day by day, even when you need a break. Everyone knows that you run yourself into the ground with all the work you do, and we all appreciate it. But we also recognize that you need to take breaks from carrying all this weight - and you need those breaks frequently. We're making sure you've got something to come back to once you pick yourself back up."

 

 

"You're not really boosting my confidence here," I groaned. 

 

"Well maybe this next order of business will," Captain Dean suggested.

 

I eyed her a little suspiciously, "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

 

She shrugged, "maybe you won't, but once you do it I think you'll agree we were right."

 

"I take it this is another one of those 'we decided for you' thinks?"

 

Dean smiled wryly, "guessed it in one."

 

 

"Fine, tell me."

 

"It all started with a conversation we had with Nick Valentine," Connie explained. "He'd said that we should put up a statue of you. Of course, he said it should be an abstract, but what does he know? The fact is, you actually do have a rather statuesque build."

 

"Um, thank you?" I asked tentatively.

 

"Unfortunately, we don't have a sculptor, so the idea was a non-starter," Dean picked up, "but that started a conversation about your appearance. I actually wish Bart was here because it also ties into a little issue he has up in Ridge."

 

"Ah, fuck," I muttered, "it's that settler I sucked off, isn't it?"

 

Stef rolled her eyes, "not dancing around the issue, at least. But seriously, I'm amazed at how little dissent you have here, considering some of the wild ideas you're pushing. But that guy's the exception, and he's not quiet about it. Bart considered kicking him out of Ridge at one point, but they came to a... peace agreement of sorts. Still, we'd like to avoid any repeats of that. So we're going to be, ah, stage managing you a little."

 

 

"Stef," I said, "I just want to make sure I'm communicating clearly here... can you see from my facial expression how uncomfortable I am with this idea?"

 

"I can," she said, "and that's why we made the decision in advance, and why we made it unanimously. The goal isn't to have a big argument about this, it's for us to do what's best for you."

 

I sighed, "I'm not agreeing to this, but tell me what you decided."

 

"Alright, here's the plan. It's got three parts. First, your look. I don't know if you realize this, but you actually stirred up a bunch of controversy when you showed up in Sanctuary to get your dog, not following the dress code. I got a lot of questions about whether or not the clothing rules were changing, and a few people were a little upset when they found out they weren't. The sense was that if you didn't have to follow them, why did they?"

 

"I can't help but point out, Stef, that you're not following the dress code," I observed.

 

"Told you she'd say that," Jake added.

 

"Fine," Stef said, pulling the blue dress that had kind of become her trademark up over her head, "Happy?"

 

 

Turning back to me, Stef continued, "from now on, you're going to follow the dress code at all times, including when you're working over the Charles. If you can't wear your vault suit for some reason, we expect you to be naked, just like any other citizen."

 

"I assume you're not planning to ban me from using the power suit?" I asked.

 

"No, but we'd like you to only use it when you need it for a mission. We think it's important you model the vault suit consistently, and not just when you're in town. Your appearance is very closely associated with our community now, and we'll have a lot fewer issues integrating new settlers if you're consistent with your appearance."

 

"That's not really too far off from what I've been doing already."

 

"Good, I'm glad you feel that way," Stef said, "now we just need you to take it to one hundred percent. That means pack away that cute blue dress you brought back from Vault 81, and pack away that modified vault suit you had made in Diamond City. That statuesque body needs to be visible all the time. And on that note," she started to continue.

 

"Really? More?" I asked, standing up from my chair. "You'll have to forgive me if I point out at this is getting a little overbearing."

 

 

Trudy laughed at that. "Honey, we're barely getting started. But trust me, we didn't come up with anything unreasonable. Just... refining the look you were getting already."

 

Stef took back over, saying, "We need to talk about your hair, too. First, as soon as you've grown out your natural hair enough, the wig has to go." I started to speak in objection, but she plowed over me, "I know, it looks good, no one's denying that, and its arguably not against the dress code. But your unusual hair color is one of the things that makes you distinct, and people need to be able to see it."

 

I waggled a hand towards me groin, pointing out, "it's not like they can't see it anyway. The reason I started wearing the wig was so the powersuit helmet was more comfortable."

 

"And that's just a minor inconvenience you'll have to accept. That, or train someone else to use the powersuit for you. Last I checked, my daughter has already used it quite extensively. But you've also touched on the other point we wanted to bring up. You need to get back into the habit of shaving your body hair. That half-and-half style you have doesn't look very good, frankly, and more to the point your popular image - the way people talk about you when they tell stories - has you smooth. Like it or not, at some point that became part of your look."

 

"I'm more annoyed about the wig than the bush, honestly," I conceded, "can we table that discussion at least until I have enough hair that dumping the wig is an option?"

 

"That's fair," Trudy said, "we'll expect you to be clean shaven by tomorrow morning; we'll revisit the wig later." Judging from the crooked grin on her face, I had a creeping suspicion they'd planned in advance to make that concession in order to cajole me into following their instructions.

 

 

"You said there were three parts," I observed. "What's the second part of your plan?"

 

"You need to regulate your love life," Connie said. "Everyone knows about your relationship with Stef's daughter and with the reporter, Piper Wright. And as I understand it you're sleeping with Dr. Cain, too. That's fine. We get that you're under a lot of stress and it's healthy for you to have an outlet. People already call Winter and Piper your wives. We want you to make that official."

 

"Hold on," I started, but Connie raised her hands to slow me down.

 

"We're still settling on the details, and I promise you'll be part of that conversation. But you need to formalize those relationships. It'll help tie the whole community together."

 

"I'm already married," I protested.

 

"I know," Connie said, more gently this time, "and we respect that. But this is for the good of everyone. I know it's a moral sacrifice for you, but you'll just be recognizing what's already happening."

 

I plopped back down in my chair, scowling a little. "You know, if the five of you hadn't started meddling, I would have done it on my own eventually."

 

"See?" Connie said, "we're just giving you a little nudge to do something you would have done anyway. Now, this also ties in with the whole situation up at Ridge with the guy you got handsy with. We're all in favor of you having relationships with people in the different settlements, but going forward we'd like you to clear these liaisons with the cabinet first."

 

I rolled my eyes. "Is that what you're calling yourselves now? The cabinet?" 

 

Connie shrugged, "it sounded better than 'council of mayors.' Less pretentious."

 

"Fair," I admitted. "So how does this work? If I hit it off with someone I have to come back to you for permission?"

 

"More like... we'd like to act as your matchmaker. Help find you people who you'll be compatible with. We already have a few candidates, actually."

 

"I'm not really sure I like that," I said. "And by that I mean, I really don't like that idea. You're taking away my bodily autonomy."

 

 

"Uh oh," Stef chuckled, "you got her riled up. The twenty-cap words are coming out."

 

"Fuck off, Stef, this isn't funny. Do I even want to know who you have in mind?"

 

Connie took back over. "There's a woman in Ridge named Sue who's very enamored with you, and she's a real sweetheart. I think she'd be a good match for you."

 

I nodded. "I've met her. She seemed sweet, and a little lonely."

 

"Still is," Stef said. "And she liked Piper a lot too. Seemed like a good addition to your family."

 

"Wait..." I slowly said, "what do you mean addition to my family?"

 

Connie shrugged, "if you hit it off with the people we match you with, we'll expect you to marry them. It won't just clarify your relationship, but it'll strengthen the ties between their home settlements and Concord."

 

"So we're going full medieval then, with marriage alliances and a royal harem?"

 

She kind of scowled at that comment. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but whatever you want to call it. By the way, you're marrying my daughter also."

 

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Come on, Charley, I'm not blind. I know all about Lucy's relationship with Winter Ainsleigh, including that, um, game they play. So yes, you're marrying Lucy, she's leaving the Minutemen and living with you in Concord. And that's not negotiable."

 

I rolled my eyes, admitting, "Winter'll be happy about that. I barely know her though, what if we don't have any chemistry?"

 

"Normally I'd say we'll find you a different match, but this one's on you. Like I said, she's already heavily involved with Winter, and so - at a minimum - I expect you to be a gracious host who unjealously shares Winter with her. I'd much rather though you make her a full member of your family. She deserves that much."

 

"OK," I said, "You're right about her and Winter. They really seem close, so that's fair. Anyone else you're planning to set me up with?" 

 

Dean said, "we're still looking at some candidates from Quarrytown, and some of the peripheral settlements like Tenpines are still too small to offer much. I imagine that'll change after Preston's operation to take over the Bedford train station. But for now no one there. Sunshine Tidings, Walden Pond, Forest Grove, and Fort Hagen are all Minutemen sites. I don't think its appropriate you take any spouses from there until Preston has firmly established his independence - otherwise you might hurt his reputation on the other side of the river if you make the ties too tight."

 

I nodded, "I can't disagree there."

 

"You'll marry Red Tourette, of course," Dean continued.

 

If I'd been drinking coffee, I would have sprayed it all over my desk.

 

"I'm sorry, what? Red Tourette? She's like a twelve year old serial killer in a 24 year old body."

 

 

"All of that's true," Dean conceded, "but she's also going to be the general of your army. None of us is under any illusions - Red's Rangers is going to end up being the force that secures our safety and independence, and Red Tourette is the keystone that holds that whole creaky edifice together. She is literally the one person in the Commonwealth you absolutely positively must forge an unbreakable bond with."

 

I sighed, hanging my head. "It's not like I don't get along with her. She's charming in, you know, a feral and vicious way."

 

"And she adores you," Stef added.

 

"That's true too," I agreed. "But doesn't it send the wrong message if I take an ex-Raider that high into my circle?"

 

"Before Forest Grove, I'd agree," Dean said. "It would be really difficult to rehabilitate her. But the rescue mission she sent - on her own initiative - to try and save the Minutemen gave us the legend we need to complete her redemption story. And that concludes in a happy ending with her marrying the queen."

 

I frowned deeply at that last part.

 

"With her marrying the Overseer," Connie correct, "we know."

 

"So is that it? Winter, Piper, Sue, Lucy, and Red? I'm going to run out of fingers for the wedding rings."

 

"Don't worry about that," Stef said, "I have a few ideas. But no, not quite. If you want to continue your relationship with Susan Cain, you need to tie the knot with her. She's not a citizen, but there's some value in that as well - shows that anyone can make it here in 111 country."

 

I nodded, "if Susan doesn't object, that's fine."

 

"And there's the matter of the diner," Trudy said. "You know we have a pretty small population, and we need everyone we've got. But realistically, I'd be doing a bad job as mayor if I didn't make arrangements for us to have a place in your household. So... I'd like you to take in my son, Patrick. I don't expect you to have the same kind of relationship with him that you have with your wives, I don't even know if you're interested in men, but he needs a loving and safe home, and if you're marrying Doctor Cain, she can help him continue his recovery from his health problems."

 

I thought on that silently for a while, fidgeting with my wedding ring. "I'm not sure I can explain why that's difficult for me, Trudy."

 

"You don't have to," she said, her voice understanding, "I get that he won't be a real husband for you. Just be kind to him and help him get well. By the way, I have a wedding present for you and Red?"

 

"Oh?" I asked, momentarily distracted from the prospect of replacing Nate with Patrick - a prospect that I very much did not like. 

 

"Before he left, Nick asked me about some obscure comic books he said you were trying to find for Red."

 

"The banned artist from Toronto?" I asked.

 

She nodded, "yeah, that one. Well, turns out once again, Trudy comes to the rescue. Not two days later, I was going through a pile of junk that a scavver hauled out of BADTFL headquarters in Charlestown and what do I find?" She offered a slightly ratty looking comic book to me.

 

 

"The Execution of Joanne," I read aloud, "the story of a young English woman's last moments of life. Shit, Trudy, I thought these all got burned before the war. Red is going to die of excitement." I riffled the pages a little and felt my eyes involuntarily grow a little wide at the contents. "Jesus," I added, "I can see why they banned these."

 

Trudy chuckled. "Yeah, the first page was enough to tell me I could skip reading this one. But if your loving wife to be will enjoy it, consider it my gift to you. Just maybe don't let Patrick read that stuff. He's got enough psychological problems already."

 

"OK," I said, "that's two things. What's your third demand?"

 

"Have you heard the phrase, 'Charley First,' before?" Jake asked.

 

I thought on it for a moment, then shook my head. "I can't say I have."

 

"Alright, let me try this again," Jake pressed. "Have you noticed any pregnant women in your settlements?"

 

I thought on that and shook my head again. "Now that you mention it, no."

 

"Part of it's just that not a lot of pregnancies make it to term out in the wasteland," he conceded. "Even with the doctors we're attracting and the improvements we're making - clean water, safe places to sleep, stuff like that - it's just a hard place to carry a kid. But there's more to it. The women here are choosing not to get pregnant. Apparently Sienna and some of the other doctors are giving people herbs and medicine to keep them from getting pregnant."

 

 

"Why?" I asked.

 

"That's where this whole Charley First thing comes in. There's a... I don't know what you call it exactly. A cult? Shucks, don't tell Father Callum I called it that, but yeah, maybe call it a cult. Most of the womenfolk around here are in on it to some degree or another. 'Charley First' is talkin' about your son, Shaun. They decided they won't have any kids until you've got your kid back, or you have a new kid yourself."

 

"That's... unexpected," I admitted. "When did this start?"

 

"About the time you took over Concord," Stef said, "though it's stayed quiet until pretty recently. The really hardcore Charley Firsters are making you out to be a religious figure, but most of them just respect you. They think you deserve to have a kid - whether its Shaun or a new child - before they do."

 

"So short term, this isn't a big problem. Actually, not having more mouths to feed helps with some of the supply problems we're still doing our damndest to work out. But the longer it keeps going, the long it'll be till we have the first generation of Concord-born kids growing up. And we need to start thinking about the future. So... the third thing we've decided is that you need to really focus on finding your son. And also, you need to try and get pregnant."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "That's not why you're setting me up with Patrick, right?"

 

Trudy snorted a little. "No, we understand he's not ready to have that kind of relationship with you, married or otherwise. We'll work on finding a good match - someone who doesn't just have chemistry with you but has good genes to pass on. Ideally someone who you getting together with will strengthen our community, too. But for now, just focus on finding your son. That'll make the Charley Firsters just as happy as you getting pregnant with a new kid. But that's your job. That's your mission. Find your son. Let Preston worry about Bedford and his Minutemen business. Let us worry about building the settlements. You find your son."

 

I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. "That was the whole point of the war with Kellogg, and it was a bust. I'm at a dead end now."

 

"I don't think that's actually true," Jake said. "Other than figuring out that the Institute's got him, which is terrible news but also a huge discovery, you've got that brain chip, right? So find a way to decode it. It must have something useful on it."

 

"Maybe," I conceded, "that's what Piper's working on."

 

"Then you need to catch up with Piper," Stef said. "Help her with her investigation. And leave the rest to us."

 

"And what about your marriage, um, plot? If I run off to Diamond City, do you expect me to take all my new wives with me?"

 

"Don't worry about that for now," Connie said. "We'll make arrangements while you're looking for your son, and next time you're back we'll start formally making the introductions. We still have a few details to work out on the whole marriage thing, after all."

 

The meeting continued a bit longer, though the spotlight had come off of me. For the rest of the session, the mayors debated the best way to keep the slightly teetering food production infrastructure going, how to close a critical gap in machine parts that was starting to develop, and how to speed up construction on the concrete wall for Tenpines. I interjected a few suggestions here, asked some questions there, but for the most part the rest of the meeting ran itself. When we adjourned, I left feeling... strange. This transition from dictator to something more like a reigning constitutional monarch was disconcerting; on one hand, I recognized and appreciated that the cabinet wanted me to focus my efforts on things that were personally important to me - like finding Shaun. On the other hand, this transfer of executive power worried me. Not just in the sense that I was losing some control over what I did with my own body, but in the potential for the cabinet to choose other priorities for me in the future.  The thought definitely crossed my mind that I was at a crossroads - if I didn't want to be steered into this 'managed' leadership role, I'd need to put my foot down soon, before the cabinet's newfound power became fully entrenched.

 

I was still chewing on this as I walked back to my apartment (soon to be taken away from me, apparently) when Susan Cain stopped me.

 

"Charley," she said, "you've been avoiding me." Just a bit behind her, I could see Curie approaching as well.

 

 

"Susan," I said, "um. Guilty as charged. I haven't really been feeling in the mood for company lately."

 

"I noticed," she said. "We need to talk about your depression and your mood swings."

 

"Um, sure, but before that can you tell me what it up with those glasses?"

 

Cain laughed, "oh, these? I got them down at New Fallon's. Not a lot of options for me there, you know, and Carnal said they complemented my eyes."

 

"You know they're completely opaque, right? I can't see your eyes."

 

"Indeed," she chuckled, "but I didn't want to hurt Carnal's feelings, so I bought them anyway. Isn't it fascinating that a Super Mutant could develop such a pleasant and benign personality?"

 

I shrugged, "I haven't got to know enough of them to say." I caught my eyes drifting over Susan's body and I smirked, "you look good naked, Susan. I'm kind of glad you still aren't wearing a vault suit. But I haven't seen you wearing your work outfit either. Aren't you having issues with, you know, sparks and things in your workplace?"

 

She held out her hands, palm up, "I do my best to dodge. I can't really wear clothing from, um, my institution after everything that happened, can I? But stop changing the subject. We need to talk about your health situation."

 

Curie had joined us by this point, and she added, "I would like to be involved with this conversation as well. Doctor Cain and I have shared several very thought-provoking discussions related to your condition."

 

"Fine," I said, lacking the energy to resist even though I didn't really want to have another conversation on the topic, "I need some help cleaning up anyway."

 

Back in my apartment, I talked with the two of them while Cain shaved me completely smooth. She had a lot of questions about my health - physical and mental both - and a couple times she shared what I can only describe as meaningful glances with Curie.

 

 

"Well, I tracked you down to talk about your heavy metal poisoning, and I still want to talk about that, but I think we need to discuss your depression first."

 

"I agree," Curie added. "I witnessed firsthand the destructive effects of malaise on my colleagues in the secret vault. You must take steps to care for your wellbeing."

 

"So what?" I asked, "are you going to prescribe me some happy pills?"

 

"If I was back... home, that would be part of our first line of treatment. But despite my best efforts I've consistently failed to secure a consistent supply of adequate quality, so that won't work. I think instead, talk therapy is the right strategy."

 

"I don't know how well that'll work," I challenged, "the 'cabinet' is practically throwing me out the door. I'll be on the road again in a few days."

 

"Well then," Cain said, "I'll be joining you. Sienna has the healthcare situation under control here, and Jake will be fine without me for a little while."

 

"And I will be joining you as well," Curie said. "If I have intuited your intentions properly, you plan to continue your quest to unlock Kellogg's memories, yes?"

 

I nodded. "I believe that whoever can aid you in this endeavor can also help me with a... personal matter. And of course, you will benefit from my medical expertise. So we will travel together."

 

"Thank you, both," I said. "But I'm not sure it's necessary."

 

"It might not be," Cain conceded, "but we're doing it anyway. Now, why don't you stretch out on that couch and let me try out that clean-shaven pussy of yours."

 

I was a little caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation but... that was Susan Cain for you. I did as she requested and felt her snuggle in behind me, a long rubber shaft teasing back and forth against my clit. Curie, for her part, hovered and watched intently.

 

 

"They're going to make me marry you, you know," I whispered as she slowly pushed the shaft into me.

 

"Do I get a choice in the matter?" she asked, chuckling.

 

I let out a sigh as the last inch of the cock entered me, then inhaled sharply as Cain slapped her hips against me, getting a little extra depth on the strap-on.

 

"In theory," I mumbled, "but I'm sure they'd find a way to get you to say yes."

 

"Do you like it when they take control like that? Does it excite you to have your power taken away?" She put a little exclamation point on each question with a sharp thrust of her hips.

 

"Oooh, I understand now," Curie chimed in, "you are using your intimate encounter to perform therapy. What a brilliant display of integrative medicine."

 

"You're spoiling the fun, Curie," I groaned.

 

"Come on," Cain urged, "how did it make you feel?"

 

"I was angry at first," I said, grinding my rear end against her, "I felt like I'd done all this work, and they were just picking it up and running with it, no matter how I felt."

 

Cain transitioned to slower, gliding strokes, while she brushed her fingers against my lips. I tried to suck on her index finger, but she pulled it away a moment before I captured it. "You said you felt that way at first. How did you feel later?"

 

"I was still annoyed, but I... I felt like there was a weight off my shoulders. Ever since Nick left, I felt like I was getting pulled in two different directions. Part of me wanted to stay and strengthen the settlements, secure everything we've won. The other part wanted to just find Shaun and ignore the rest. But I felt like that was irresponsible and more to the point I didn't know where to start looking for Shaun. And the weight was just crushing down on me."

 

Cain kept up the fucking, working me over until I tensed up in my climax. She went a little longer, then slowed. 

 

"It sounds like you needed to let go of some of that power," Cain suggested. "You needed to let someone else make the decisions for you. I see that in the way you make love to the women you love. Your play is full of power exchange. Do you want to clean the strap-on?"

 

 

I shifted my position and Cain pushed herself upright. "It's not a 'want' type question," I told her, "that's our rule... the person who gets fucked has to clean up."

 

Cain wrapped an arm around me, pulling me a little closer. "That's not what I asked. I asked if you,  wanted to clean the strap-on. If you want to be a little submissive, to give up some control."

 

I nodded. I wanted to lock my gaze with her, but she was still wearing those stupid glasses and I couldn't see her eyes.

 

She guided me down then, saying, "take your time and clean it good. I don't want to see anything left on it."

 

I obeyed, getting every last drop of my juices off the rubber cock before I let the tip pass out of my lips.

 

"Good," Cain said, "now how about we get the rest of that tension out of you, sound good?"

 

I nodded, snuggling closer to her. Cain stood me up and let me to the torture rail, gently securing my wrists before flipping no the power. "Now I want you to watch while Curie gives me a nice, gentle, loving fuck, and I want to cum while I listen to your screams. Got it? That's not a request."

 

"Mmm," I wordlessly agreed just as I started to feel the first tickle of electricity against my pussy.

 

"Watch me. Don't take your eyes of me. Not for a second," she instructed. And so I found to not look away, to keep my eyes locked on Cain, even as I was screaming in agony from the fast-building voltage. And while I watched, Curie took Cain from behind, demonstrating just how precisely she could use her mechanical arms to give pleasure. At length, I couldn't hold my gaze any further. My eyes rolled back in my head and I arched my back into a truly remarkable orgasm. 

 

 

Cain left me there for a few more minutes before finally shutting off the machine and unlocking my wrists. 

 

"Do you feel better?" she asked, gently.

 

"Mmmm, yeah," I whispered, before Cain rolled me into my bed.

 

"Good," she said. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."