Chapter One: Holding

Riley had been in holding for a week now.

When they had told her she had completed Companion conditioning and was being transferred from training, she had expected kennels. Crates perhaps. Small tiled rooms with drains in the floor and metal bars across the front.

Instead the holding ward resembled a lounge attached to a private clinic. Warm lighting glowed from recessed panels overhead. Thick carpets softened footsteps. Couches and padded chairs sat clustered around low tables covered with untouched magazines and half-finished cups of tea. Music played softly from hidden speakers somewhere overhead. The air even smelled clean in a comforting way, carrying traces of detergent and brewed coffee instead of disinfectant.

There were other Animals there too.

Most looked around her age. Older teenagers. Young adults. A few sat reading. Some talked quietly with one another. Others rested against furniture with the loose, sleepy posture of housecats left in the sun.

No one wore clothing.

The first few days had still made Riley self-conscious. Not because of the girls anymore. That discomfort had faded weeks ago during conditioning. Eventually the constant visibility stopped feeling humiliating and simply became exhausting to resist. After long enough, nakedness stopped feeling like exposure and started feeling like the absence of effort.

The boys had taken longer.

Not because they stared. Most of them had already learned not to.

But bodies still reacted.

A boy stretched across the couch opposite her, one arm hanging over his eyes while he dozed lightly beneath the soft afternoon lighting. Another sat cross-legged on the floor beside the television while a girl braided sections of his hair absentmindedly. Nobody acted embarrassed when arousal happened. Nobody laughed. Nobody hid themselves. The staff ignored it completely unless behavior became disruptive.

It was treated the same way someone might acknowledge a sneeze or a yawn.

Natural.
Meaningless.
Animal.

Riley understood that intellectually.

Her body had simply not caught up yet.

So when one of the boys shifted in the chair beside her and she noticed the unmistakable tightening between his legs, heat rushed instantly into her cheeks before she could stop it.

The boy noticed her glance and looked embarrassed for perhaps half a second before giving a small helpless shrug.

“Sorry,” he murmured quietly.

Riley immediately felt worse.

“No, it’s okay,” she said too quickly. “You didn’t do anything.”

Which only made him look more awkward.

Across the room, one of the Matrons glanced up briefly from her clipboard.

“Apologizing for autonomic response is discouraged,” she said calmly without looking particularly invested in the conversation. “Holding should remain a low-stress environment.”

The boy relaxed slightly after that, shoulders easing back against the chair.

Riley stared down at her hands in silence.

That was another thing she still wasn’t fully used to.

Nobody here treated the body as personal anymore.

Not the staff.
Not the Animals.
Not even herself half the time.

Training had stripped away embarrassment piece by piece until reactions she once would have considered mortifying became routine background noise. Bathing in groups. Sleeping piled together during movie nights. Staff adjusting posture with their hands. Hands on shoulders. Fingers under chins. Casual touch everywhere.

Sometimes Riley caught herself forgetting what used to bother her.

That frightened her more than the nudity ever had.

A girl wandered past carrying two steaming mugs from the refreshment station near the wall. She paused beside Riley automatically.

“You still blushing at erections?”

Riley groaned softly, covering her face with both hands.

The girl laughed.

“It goes away eventually.” She offered one of the mugs. “Chamomile?”

Riley accepted it quietly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” The girl settled herself beside her on the couch without hesitation, warm thigh pressing against Riley’s own bare leg as naturally as if they had known each other for years. “You here for family placement too?”

Riley nodded once.

“Probably.”

A voice crackled suddenly over the tannoy, startling Riley badly enough that hot tea spilled across her bare lap.

She hissed softly, jerking upright as the announcement echoed through the holding lounge.

“Animal 2276-13, please report to Presentation Chamber Four.”

Riley’s watch beeped almost immediately afterward.

The designation number flashed across the tiny LED display on her wrist.

2276-13.

Hers.

Riley swallowed once before looking toward the girl who had brought her the tea earlier. The other Animal offered her a small sympathetic smile as Riley carefully set the mug down onto the coffee table.

“Good luck,” the girl said gently.

Riley nodded, then stood and quietly left the room.

The sound of her bare feet against the white tiled floor echoed softly through the corridor as Riley made her way toward Chamber Four.

Nothing else moved.

The halls here always felt strangely empty, the silence too complete to be natural. Even the air carried less sound than it should have, the ventilation humming quietly overhead while hidden lights cast a clean sterile glow across the polished walls.

Riley already knew what this meant.

Someone had taken an interest in her.

Not enough to purchase her outright yet, but enough to request a presentation. An introduction. A chance to see how she behaved outside the carefully controlled comfort of the holding lounge.

Her stomach tightened slightly at the thought.

Excitement.
Nervousness.
Hope.

The feelings blended together until she could no longer separate them properly.

She reached Chamber Four and lifted her wrist toward the sensor mounted beside the door.

The scanner flashed green.

A second later the door slid open with a soft hydraulic whisper.

Quiet.

Everything here was quiet.

It still unsettled her sometimes.

Back home, the Processing Centre had sounded alive. Doors clanged heavily when they opened. Locks snapped into place with hard mechanical certainty. Pipes rattled in the walls. Old ventilation systems groaned overhead day and night.

The building had been ancient.

But sturdy.

The System didn’t waste resources replacing things that still functioned.

Holding was different.

Modern.
Soft.
Beautiful, even.

Everything moved silently enough that it almost felt polite.

The doors glided instead of slammed. Lights brightened gradually instead of flicking on. Voices remained calm no matter the subject matter. The furniture was comfortable. The staff smiled often.

And somehow that made it feel less human than the Processing Centre ever had.

Both places existed for the same purpose.

Animals entered.
Animals left.

The only real difference was what happened afterward.

Processing prepared Animals for surrender.

Holding prepared them for ownership.

Riley stepped through the doorway as it widened fully for her, her posture straightening automatically the moment she entered the Presentation Chamber.

The room beyond resembled a private sitting area more than anything institutional. Soft chairs. Low lighting. A couch positioned near a long glass table with refreshments already waiting upon it.

Someone was already inside.

Waiting for her.

Riley felt her pulse quicken immediately.

Not fear.

Not entirely.

Something warmer than that.

Anticipation.

Because she wasn’t here to die.

She was here to belong to someone.

The person seated opposite her was not the prospective owner.

Riley realized it almost immediately.

The woman wore the pale grey uniform of a Holding handler, her posture relaxed and professional as she sat with one leg crossed neatly over the other. A tablet rested against her knee, untouched for now.

She hadn’t spoken since Riley entered.

Which meant Riley was behaving correctly.

The realization settled warmly in her chest despite the nervousness still twisting there.

Then came footsteps from beyond the inner doorway.

Two sets.

Measured.
Unhurried.

Riley kept her eyes lowered.

The footsteps crossed the room slowly over soft carpet before stopping near the sofa opposite her. Fabric shifted faintly as someone sat down.

The handler rose smoothly to her feet.

“Here she is,” the woman said pleasantly, her voice carrying the same calm professionalism every employee in Holding seemed to possess. “This is Riley. She arrived with us last week. Top of her conditioning group, I’m told.”

Heat rushed instantly into Riley’s cheeks.

The praise hit harder than she expected.

Conditioning had not been easy. Every Companion in Holding had already survived Processing, but only a handful had been selected for domestic placement training afterward. Hundreds entered evaluation. Most failed somewhere along the way.

Temperament issues.
Attachment resistance.
Poor socialization.
Aggression.
Depression.
Withdrawal.

Those Animals disappeared quietly back into Processing rotation.

Nobody asked where they went afterward.

You learned quickly not to.

Riley had worked desperately not to join them.

Every corrected posture.
Every obedience drill.
Every sleepless night spent forcing herself to adapt faster than the others around her.

And somehow she had succeeded.

“Riley,” the handler said gently, “can you look at me please?”

The voice was unfamiliar.

Soft.

Light and melodic in a way that immediately felt warmer than the handler’s polished professionalism.

Riley lifted her head obediently.

Her cheeks still burned faintly from the compliment as her eyes rose toward the couple seated across from her.

The first thing she noticed was the daughter.

About Amanda’s age perhaps. Dark hair pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder. Curious eyes already fixed entirely on Riley with open fascination rather than discomfort.

Beside her sat a woman perhaps in her late thirties, elegant without looking severe. One arm rested casually along the back of the sofa behind the girl while the other held a mug of coffee near her lap.

Neither of them looked frightened by Riley.

Neither looked disgusted.

If anything, they looked hopeful.

The realization made Riley’s pulse flutter strangely in her chest.

“My name’s Matilda, and this is my daughter Lola.”

The woman leaned forward slightly as she spoke, her attention settling fully onto Riley now.

“Can you tell us about yourself?”

Riley’s mind immediately went blank.

Training had prepared her for posture.
Commands.
Presentation.
Proper responses to touch and correction.

Not this.

Not conversation.

For one horrible second she could only stare.

What was she supposed to say about herself now?

That she used to swim competitively before the Lottery?
That she spent most lunches hiding in classrooms reading old science magazines while Amanda complained she was boring?
That she used to want to study engineering because she liked understanding how things worked?

Those thoughts crashed together uselessly in her head.

Human thoughts.

Human answers.

Riley swallowed hard.

“I…” she started softly before stopping again.

The handler remained silent nearby, allowing the pause to stretch naturally instead of rescuing her from it.

Riley forced herself to continue.

“I turned thirteen during conditioning,” she said at last, the sentence sounding painfully small once spoken aloud. “Um… I’m from Hanesfield. It’s in the next state over.”

Her fingers tightened slightly against her thighs.

“Just a small town,” she added quietly. “Lot of empty buildings.”

Lola tilted her head a little.

“Why’s it empty?”

Riley blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question.

“Factories closed before the Famine,” she answered automatically. “Then people left.”

Lola frowned slightly. “That sounds sad.”

Riley shrugged.

“It’s normal there.”

She hesitated for a second before adding:

“There’s still a bunch of empty streets. Old apartment buildings too.” Her gaze drifted slightly. “Some shops are still boarded up.”

“Was it scary?”

Riley thought about it.

The empty buildings.
Rusted signs.
Wind moving through places nobody used anymore.

Then she shook her head.

“No,” she said softly. “Just quiet.”

“How did you react to being Converted?” Matilda asked gently.

Riley looked back toward her.

For a moment the Presentation Chamber disappeared beneath memory.

The classroom.
Amanda staring at her.
The silence after her watch turned red.

The moment she had stopped being Human.

Riley bit lightly against her bottom lip before answering.

“I was at school,” she said quietly. “I raised my hand and told my teacher my watch had turned red.”

Her fingers pressed slightly harder against her thighs.

“She made me strip before sending me home.”

Lola shifted faintly on the sofa beside her mother, her expression tightening just a little at the image.

Before the silence could settle too heavily, the handler stepped smoothly back into the conversation.

“We’ve been assured Riley adapted very well overall,” she said quickly, the polished warmth returning immediately to her voice. “When we contacted her family, they mentioned she experienced some distress during her first day of transition, but afterward she adjusted quickly and responded extremely well to conditioning.”

Riley heard the carefulness in the wording.

Distress.
Transition.
Conditioning.

Holding staff always softened things that way when speaking to prospective owners.

Matilda’s eyes remained on Riley instead of the handler.

“Are you still frightened of being an Animal?” she asked softly.

The question caught Riley off guard.

Not because it felt cruel.

Because she wasn’t entirely sure how to answer anymore.

A few weeks ago the thought would have horrified her.

Now…

Riley lowered her gaze briefly toward her lap before shaking her head once.

“It’s simpler,” she admitted quietly.

The handler released an audible breath nearby before she could stop herself.

Relief.

That had apparently been the correct answer.

But Matilda still looked thoughtful rather than reassured.

“Simpler how?” she asked.

“I’m not sure how to answer that, if I’m being honest.”

The handler shifted immediately beside the sofa.

“Riley,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a soft edge of warning, “be good.”

Riley’s stomach tightened at once.

But before she could stumble through an apology, Matilda lifted one hand slightly.

“No, no, it’s quite alright,” she said quickly, glancing toward the handler before returning her attention to Riley. “I asked you a genuine question.”

The tension eased from the room by small degrees.

Matilda leaned back slightly into the sofa cushions, studying Riley with thoughtful curiosity rather than concern.

“If I had to guess,” she continued gently, “it feels simpler because you don’t have to worry about Human things anymore. Right?”

Riley blinked once.

“No more school,” Matilda said softly. “No more exams. No more trying to remember dates and deadlines.”

“No more worrying about what you’re going to become,” Lola added quietly from beside her mother.

Riley’s eyes flicked toward the girl briefly.

Then she nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” she admitted after a moment. “I suppose.”

The words settled strangely in her chest once spoken aloud.

Because they were true.

That was the frightening part.

The world had become smaller after Conversion.

But smaller also meant quieter.

No future hanging over her.
No expectations she might fail to meet.
No Lottery waiting somewhere ahead like a shadow stretching over every year of her life.

Just instructions.
Routine.
Comfort.
Praise when she behaved properly.

Simple things.

Riley lowered her gaze again before she could think too hard about that.

“Then would you like to come home with me?”

Matilda’s hand remained beneath Riley’s chin as she spoke, her touch gentle but unwavering.

Riley had grown used to being positioned during conditioning. Hands adjusting posture. Fingers guiding eye contact. Palms pressing shoulders back into proper presentation stance.

But this felt different.

Closer.

The warmth of Matilda’s hand seemed to linger beneath her skin in a way Riley hadn’t fully learned how to ignore yet. Not frightening. Not overwhelming.

Just… charged.

Like the space between them had narrowed somehow.

Riley looked up at her, pulse fluttering unevenly in her chest.

And underneath everything else — the nervousness, the uncertainty, the lingering embarrassment — one feeling rose above all the others.

The need to please her.

The urge arrived so naturally that Riley barely noticed it happening. The possibility of refusing never even formed properly in her mind. No hesitation. No internal argument.

Just warmth.

Belonging.

Hope.

“Yes,” Riley said softly.

Her voice sounded smaller than she intended.

“I’d like that.”

For the first time since entering the room, Matilda smiled fully.

Not the polite smile she’d worn earlier for the handler.

Something gentler.

More relieved.

Her thumb brushed lightly once along Riley’s jaw before finally letting go of her chin.

“Good,” she said quietly. “Because Lola already likes you very much.”

From the sofa, Lola immediately flushed bright red.

“Mom!”

Chapter Two: Home

The next hour blurred together for Riley.

One moment she had been kneeling on the soft carpet inside Presentation Chamber Four, and the next she was stepping barefoot out of Matilda’s car onto a quiet suburban street lined with trimmed hedges and parked vehicles still warm from the afternoon sun.

The exposure barely registered anymore.

Public nudity was simply the baseline for Animals. People looked sometimes, but only in the same absent way they might glance at someone walking a large dog or carrying groceries home from the store.

The world did not stop for her.

Children played street hockey further down the road, their laughter echoing between the rows of houses as the plastic ball clattered off curbs and driveways. A few of them noticed Riley immediately when she stepped onto the sidewalk beside Matilda.

They stared openly.

Curious.

But ultimately unbothered.

One little girl lowered her hockey stick slightly and called out across the street.

“She your dinner?”

Matilda laughed softly beside Riley.

“No, dear,” she answered easily. “She’s my new pet.”

The children exchanged glances at that.

“Want to say hello?” Matilda offered.

None of them moved.

Riley didn’t blame them.

She remembered being younger and seeing Animals in public for the first time. The uncertainty. The strange instinct to keep your distance even while staring.

Animals were normal.

But they were still different.

One of the boys shifted awkwardly before finally speaking up.

“Can she talk?”

Matilda smiled faintly.

“Of course she can.”

Now every eye settled fully onto Riley.

Waiting.

Riley hesitated for only a second before remembering herself.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

That small Human response immediately seemed to make her less frightening.

Within seconds the children abandoned their hockey sticks in the street and drifted closer in a loose nervous circle around her. None of them touched her, though a few looked tempted to.

Riley stood quietly beside Matilda while questions immediately started tumbling over one another.

“Where’re you from?”

“How old are you?”

“You smell like barbecue!”

Riley blinked at that last comment before a startled laugh escaped her.

Even Matilda smiled faintly beside her.

The lingering scent still clung faintly to Riley’s skin despite the weeks that had passed since the spa visit during conditioning. Most of the treatment had faded by now, washed away slowly over time.

But traces remained stubbornly behind.

Honey barbecue.

Sweet and smoky.

Like the ghost of a smell.

One of the boys leaned closer dramatically before wrinkling his nose.

“I’m serious!”

“I know,” Riley admitted, still laughing softly.

Lola immediately perked up beside her.

“It’s from a Meatgirl spa treatment,” she explained proudly, like possessing rare information suddenly made her an expert.

The other children stared even harder.

“A what?”

Lola folded her arms.

“It’s where they make Animals taste better.”

Heat rushed instantly back into Riley’s cheeks.

“Can I do that?” one of the girls asked immediately.

Matilda laughed softly.

“Only if you become an Animal someday. But you still look a little small for that.”

“I’m ten soon!”

Riley smiled despite herself and shook her head.

“Nah,” she said. “Not old enough.”

“How old are you then?”

The tone had changed slightly this time.

Less curiosity.

More challenge.

Like the girl had caught Riley accidentally pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Riley hesitated for only a second.

“Thirteen,” she admitted.

Then, automatically, she added:

“But you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age.”

A few of the children snickered.

But the same little girl frowned immediately.

“But you’re not a lady,” she pointed out matter-of-factly. “You’re an Animal.”

The words hit strangely harder than Riley expected.

Not cruelly.

The girl hadn’t meant them cruelly at all.

If anything she sounded confused.

Correcting her.

Riley opened her mouth before realizing she didn’t actually know what to say.

Because the child was right.

The silence stretched just long enough to become awkward before Matilda finally stepped in smoothly beside her.

“She used to be a lady,” Matilda said calmly. “Now she’s something a little different.”

The girl accepted that explanation instantly.

“Oh.”

Then her attention shifted away just as quickly toward the abandoned hockey game behind her, interest already fading now that the mystery had mostly been solved.

Children really were frighteningly adaptable sometimes.

Riley stood quietly beside Matilda while the others drifted back toward the street, their earlier nervous fascination already dissolving into ordinary boredom.

But the question lingered unpleasantly in the back of her mind anyway.

Not a lady.

An Animal.

She knew that already.

So why had hearing it out loud still stung?

Matilda’s hand settled gently against the small of Riley’s back, fingertips moving slowly across her skin.

“You alright, dear?”

Riley nodded once.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Little brat was just really blunt.”

Matilda smiled faintly at that.

“Children rarely have filters,” she said calmly. “Just like how you used a Human descriptor when she asked your age.”

Riley’s stomach dropped immediately.

“Am I in trouble for—”

“Not at all.”

Matilda interrupted her so quickly Riley barely managed to get the words out.

The reassurance hit almost physically.

“You’re not an Animal destined for slaughter or processing,” Matilda continued gently. “You’re my Companion. My pet.”

Her hand slid higher between Riley’s shoulders in one slow soothing stroke.

“My little girl.”

Warmth spread embarrassingly fast through Riley’s chest at the words.

“Just try to remember that you aren’t Human anymore,” Matilda said softly. “And if you slip, I’ll correct you.”

The statement should have sounded frightening.

Instead it felt reassuring.

Stable.

Riley lowered her eyes slightly as Matilda’s hand remained resting against her back.

“Okay,” she murmured quietly.

And to her own surprise, she realized she meant it.

Matilda’s hand remained lightly against Riley’s back, guiding her gently up the garden path toward the front door.

A white picket fence surrounded the small front yard. Flowerbeds lined the porch in uneven bursts of color, clearly maintained with actual care instead of obligation.

It was nicer than Riley’s family home had ever been.

Not bigger.

Just… loved.

Nobody back home had possessed much of a green thumb. Her mother had tried once when Riley was younger, planting herbs in cracked ceramic pots along the kitchen windowsill. Most of them had died within a month.

The memory surfaced strangely easily.

Then the front door opened.

Warm air drifted out immediately carrying something floral and sweet beneath the scent of cooked food and clean laundry.

Riley’s nose twitched slightly.

A wax melter sat plugged into the hallway wall nearby, pale pink wax slowly liquefying beneath the tiny heating dish.

Before she could properly think about it, Riley reached out curiously and dipped her fingertip into the melted wax.

Heat bloomed instantly against her skin.

Behind her, Matilda laughed softly.

“Lola does that too,” she said. “I’ll never understand why.”

Riley jerked her hand back quickly, embarrassed at herself now.

“It looked fun,” she muttered.

The wax had already begun cooling against her finger. She wiped it off hurriedly against her thigh, only for the soft pink clump to stick stubbornly just below her hip instead.

Matilda chuckled again.

“Silly girl.”

She bent slightly, fingers brushing lightly against Riley’s skin as she peeled the wax away with practiced ease.

The touch was casual.

Domestic.

Comfortably intimate in a way Riley still hadn’t fully adjusted to yet.

“If you want to feel hot wax,” Matilda said lightly, “all you need to do is ask.”

Heat rushed instantly into Riley’s face.

“Mom, don’t be gross.”

Lola appeared suddenly at Riley’s side before poking her directly on the cheek with wax-covered fingertips.

Riley yelped softly in surprise as something warm and sticky smeared across her skin.

Matilda sighed immediately.

“Lola.”

“What?” the girl laughed, already wiping excess wax onto the side of Riley’s shoulder before she could escape. “She started it.”

“I did not,” Riley protested weakly, though she was already laughing too.

The sound surprised her.

Real laughter.

Not the careful soft giggles encouraged during conditioning when handlers praised pleasant behavior.

This felt different.

Loose.

Natural.

Matilda shook her head as she shut the front door behind them.

“I have brought an Animal into this house,” she muttered dryly, “not another child.”

“You got both,” Lola answered instantly.

Riley tried to wipe the wax from her cheek only to spread it further across her skin instead.

That only made Lola laugh harder.

“Alright,” Matilda said. “Living room. I have a gift for you, Riley.”

The word hit Riley with embarrassing effectiveness.

Gift.

A small pulse of excitement fluttered instantly through her stomach before she could suppress it.

Animals did not own things.

That had been drilled into them repeatedly during conditioning. Beds belonged to households. Bowls belonged to households. Toys belonged to households.

Even collars belonged to households.

So the idea of receiving a gift — something chosen specifically for her — still carried an almost intoxicating warmth Riley had not quite learned how to resist yet.

She followed Matilda obediently into the living room alongside Lola.

The room itself looked soft in the way only genuinely lived-in places could. Blankets draped over the back of the sofa. Books stacked unevenly beside a chair. A half-finished mug abandoned on the coffee table beside a tablet device.

Home.

Lola immediately threw herself onto the couch with all the graceless force of a child who had done it a thousand times before.

Matilda, meanwhile, guided Riley gently toward the center of the room.

“Stay there for me.”

Riley obeyed immediately.

“I’ve always wanted a Companion of my own,” Matilda admitted as she crossed toward a cabinet near the wall. “When I was little, my nanny belonged to my parents.”

Riley listened quietly.

“I wanted the same thing for Lola,” Matilda continued, “but permits take forever these days. Especially for younger Companions.”

There was no resentment in her voice.

Only patience finally rewarded.

Matilda opened a small velvet-lined case resting atop the cabinet.

Then she turned back toward Riley holding something circular in both hands.

Metal.

Smooth.

Almost delicate-looking beneath the warm lighting.

For one confused second Riley thought it resembled jewelry.

Then realization hit her all at once.

The collar.

Her collar.

Riley’s breath caught instantly.

“Once I put this on you, you will be mine.”

Matilda approached her slowly as she spoke, the collar resting open between her hands.

Up close it looked less like restraint and more like jewelry. Silver metal polished to a soft shine beneath the living room lights, the inside lined with dark padded leather designed for comfort against bare skin.

Beautiful.

Riley couldn’t stop staring at it.

“I have very simple rules,” Matilda continued calmly. “If you follow them, you’ll be here for a very long time.”

The warmth in her voice had changed.

Not vanished.

But cooled.

The shift was immediate enough that Riley instinctively straightened where she stood in the center of the room. Her earlier laughter with Lola died quietly in her throat. Even the playful flicking of wax remnants against her thigh stopped without her consciously deciding to.

Matilda held the open collar loosely in both hands.

“Do not betray my trust.”

Riley swallowed.

“Do not disobey me willfully.”

The room felt strangely still now.

Even Lola had gone quiet on the sofa behind them.

“Do not attempt to escape.”

The final rule settled heavily into Riley’s chest because this time there was no softness cushioning the words. No teasing warmth. No affection.

Just certainty.

“If you break even one of those rules,” Matilda said evenly, “I will have you sent for processing.”

Riley’s posture tightened instantly.

The threat was real.

Not exaggerated.
Not emotional.
Not hypothetical.

Real.

And somehow that frightened her more than shouting would have.

Because Matilda sounded completely sincere.

Riley lowered her eyes automatically.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Matilda stepped closer until Riley could feel the warmth of her body standing directly in front of her.

“Swear to me,” she said softly, “that you will follow those rules.”

For one brief moment Riley thought about the Processing Center again.

The old metal doors.
The smell.
The silence after lights-out.
Animals disappearing and never returning.

Then she looked at the collar in Matilda’s hands.

Home.
Warmth.
Lola laughing beside her.
Hands stroking gently through her hair.
Someone waiting for her to come back if she left the room.

Belonging.

“I swear,” Riley whispered.

The answer came frighteningly easily.

Matilda studied her for another long moment.

Then her expression softened again.

“Good girl.”

The collar clicked softly shut around her neck.

The sound seemed far louder to Riley than it actually was.

Final.

Instinctively her hand rose almost at once, fingertips brushing against the cool metal circling her throat. It wasn’t loose the way she had imagined collars would be as a child. It rested close against her skin, snug without restricting, fitted with unsettling precision.

Like it had been made specifically for a girl her age.

Maybe it had.

Riley traced her fingers slowly along the smooth outer surface, feeling delicate engravings worked into the silver. Small flowering patterns curled around the band in elegant loops, decorative without becoming excessive.

Beautiful.

Near the front sat a small bronze plate fixed neatly into the metal.

Blank for now.

But not for long.

Her name would go there.

The realization sent something strange and heavy through her chest.

Not fear.

Something warmer.

Ownership made visible.

Matilda’s hand settled lightly atop Riley’s own where it rested against the collar.

“Comfortable?” she asked softly.

Riley nodded immediately.

“Yes.”

And she hated how relieved she sounded saying it.

Matilda’s smile softened instantly, chasing away the coldness that had settled over the room during the collaring.

Then suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tightly around Riley from behind.

Riley startled as Lola squeezed her enthusiastically, hands resting against her stomach.

“Welcome home!” Lola announced brightly.

The words hit Riley strangely hard.

Home.

Before she could properly process it, Lola was already tugging her toward the stairs.

“C’mon,” she said excitedly. “I’ll show you your room.”

Riley blinked.

“My room?”

Lola glanced back at her like the question itself was ridiculous.

“Yeah? Did you think you were gonna sleep on the floor?”

Riley shrugged one shoulder uncertainly.

“A little.”

That earned an immediate eye-roll.

“Mom says good owners give Companions their own space,” Lola informed her with the absolute certainty only children could possess. “Your room’s next to mine.”

Riley let herself be pulled upstairs.

The second floor smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the floral wax melting downstairs. Family photographs lined the hallway walls. School portraits. Vacation pictures. Lola missing front teeth in several of them.

Normal things.

Human things.

Riley found herself staring a little too long.

Lola finally stopped beside a plain white door near the end of the hallway.

Then she stepped aside dramatically.

“Open it.”

Riley hesitated.

Something nervous twisted in her stomach suddenly as she looked toward Lola for guidance, but the younger girl only watched her expectantly.

Permission.

Excitement.

Nothing else.

Slowly Riley reached for the handle and turned it.

The door opened inward with a soft creak.

The room beyond was simple.

But warm.

A neatly made bed rested against one wall beneath a small window framed by pale curtains. A bookshelf stood mostly empty beside a desk tucked into the corner. Soft lighting cast a golden glow across cream-colored walls. There was even a folded blanket laid neatly at the foot of the bed waiting for her.

It wasn’t luxurious.

But it was hers.

Or as close to hers as an Animal was allowed to possess.

And somehow that made Riley’s chest ache unexpectedly.

It reminded her vaguely of the renovated Companion cells back at the Processing Center. Comfortable enough to encourage attachment and stability. Soft beds. Warm lighting. Clean blankets.

But this didn’t feel institutional.

This felt lived in.

Riley stepped further into the room slowly, eyes moving across the neatly made bed, the bookshelf, the desk tucked into the corner beneath the window.

Then she noticed the marks on the wall beside the closet.

Thin black lines drawn upward year by year.

Height measurements.

Some crossed through.
Others dated carefully in fading marker.

And beside them, written repeatedly in uneven handwriting, was the same name.

Alex.

Riley stared for a moment before realizing the lines climbed too high to belong to Lola.

Behind her, Lola’s earlier excitement dimmed slightly.

“My brother Alex,” she said quietly. “He was converted five years ago.”

Riley turned toward her.

“This was his room.”

The words settled heavily into the warm little bedroom.

Not guest-room clean.

Preserved.

The desk.
The shelves.
Even the faint blue paint still visible beneath the newer cream walls near the radiator.

Pieces left behind by someone who had once lived there.

Riley looked back toward the height markings.

The last line sat only slightly taller than she was now.

“What happened to him?” she asked softly.

Lola shrugged, but it didn’t look careless.

“He got picked,” she answered. “Mom said he didn’t fight it.”

Processed.

The word hung unspoken between them anyway.

Riley’s throat tightened slightly.

She reached out without thinking, fingertips brushing lightly against one of the old marker lines.

Alex.

A boy had grown up in this room.
Slept here.
Laughed here.

And then one day he had walked willingly toward slaughter because that was what the System demanded of him.

The room suddenly felt warmer and sadder all at once.

“Am I really allowed to have all this?”

Riley spoke quietly as she looked around the room properly this time instead of simply glancing through it.

There were marks everywhere once she started noticing them.

Tiny dents in the wall where baseballs had clearly struck years ago. Scratches along the desk edge. A faded sticker half-peeled from the closet door.

Boxes sat shoved carefully beneath the bed.

Alex written across them in thick black marker.

The room didn’t feel staged for her.

It felt inherited.

Lola stepped closer again and took Riley’s hand, gentler this time than before. Her fingers were small and warm as they wrapped tightly around Riley’s own.

“This is your room now,” she said firmly.

Riley looked down at her.

“Alex has been dead for five years.”

The bluntness of it knocked the air strangely from Riley’s chest.

Not because it sounded cruel.

Because Lola said it like something she had already repeated to herself many times before.

“If you try to refuse it,” Lola continued, squeezing Riley’s hand once, “you’ll just make Mom sad.”

The younger girl looked genuinely serious now.

“Don’t make her sad.”

Riley’s eyes drifted slowly back across the room.

The preserved pieces of another child’s life still lingering quietly in corners.
The empty bookshelf waiting to be filled again.
The bed somebody else had once slept in before walking calmly toward Processing because the System asked him to.

And now she was standing here wearing his replacement around her throat.

The collar suddenly felt heavier.

Not uncomfortable.

Just real.

Riley swallowed once before nodding quietly.

“Okay,” she said.

Then, after a moment:

“I’ll take good care of it.”

Lola led Riley back downstairs still holding her hand the entire way.

The house felt different now.

Smaller somehow.

Not physically.

Just familiar already in little ways Riley hadn’t expected. The floral scent drifting up from downstairs. The creak in the staircase near the middle landing. The muffled sound of the television still running softly somewhere in the living room.

Matilda looked up from the sofa the moment they entered.

“Well?” she asked with a faint smile. “How do you like the room?”

Riley hesitated briefly before answering.

“It’s wonderful.”

And it was.

Not because it was large or luxurious.

Because somebody had wanted her to have it.

The thought still sat strangely in her chest.

Then guilt crept in almost immediately afterward.

“I…” Riley lowered her eyes slightly. “I’m sorry about Alex.”

For the first time since bringing her home, Matilda’s expression shifted into something older.

Not broken.

Just tired.

She leaned back slowly against the sofa cushions before answering.

“Don’t be.”

Her voice remained calm, though quieter now.

“He was a good boy.”

A small sad smile touched the corner of her mouth.

“And a perfect Animal.”

Lola climbed onto the sofa beside her mother automatically, leaning comfortably against her side.

Neither of them cried.

Neither looked angry.

Alex’s death sat inside the house the same way everything else did in this world:
accepted,
grieved,
normalized.

Riley stood silently in the middle of the living room, fingers brushing unconsciously against the collar around her throat.

And for the first time since arriving, she understood something clearly.

She had not simply been adopted into this family.

She had been chosen to fill an absence.

Riley hesitated beside the sofa for only a moment.

Then, instead of sitting beside Matilda, she carefully lowered herself onto the woman’s lap.

The movement felt strangely natural.

Matilda made a soft sound of surprise before immediately welcoming her there, one arm wrapping securely around Riley’s waist while the other pulled Lola closer against her side.

No hesitation.

No awkwardness.

Just warmth.

Riley slowly relaxed against her, resting her head against Matilda’s chest as the steady rhythm of her heartbeat settled beneath her ear.

The living room grew quiet after that.

Not empty.

Comfortable.

The television murmured softly somewhere nearby while evening light filtered through the curtains in long golden streaks across the carpet. Lola leaned heavily against Matilda’s shoulder, already distracted by something on her tablet again.

And Riley simply sat there breathing in the floral scent lingering on Matilda’s clothes while fingers stroked lazily through her hair.

One naked girl wearing a collar.

And the woman who had claimed her.

The thought should have frightened her.

Instead Riley closed her eyes slowly and let herself melt further into the warmth surrounding her.

Chapter 3: The Tiger

The backyard smelled like charcoal, wet leaves, and cheap fireworks. Halloween had arrived.

Orange lanterns hung from the fence in uneven rows, swaying gently whenever the wind picked up. Someone had carved too many pumpkins and left them scattered across the garden path with crooked smiles and candlelit eyes. Children darted between folding chairs with plastic masks pushed up onto their heads while adults lingered around the grills holding paper plates and warm drinks.

Riley stayed close to the patio steps.

Not because she had been told to.

Because there were too many people.

The collar around her throat felt heavier outside the house. Not physically heavy. Just noticeable. Every laugh nearby made her aware of it again. Every passing glance. It had been two weeks since she had begun living with Matilda and Lola. By her count that meant she had been an Animal for around two months and November was coming to a close.

She kept her arms folded loosely across her stomach while she watched Matilda carry boxes of decorations out into the garden.

"There you are," Matilda said.

Riley looked up immediately.

Matilda smiled the moment their eyes met. Not forced. Not performative. Warm in the easy way she always was around her.

"Come help us paint before Lola uses all the orange."

"I wasn't—"

"She absolutely was," Matilda said back.

A collection of paint pots had been spread across the tabletop beside cups of water and ruined brushes. Black, orange, white, yellow.

Riley approached carefully, aware of eyes following her for a moment before conversations resumed around the yard. That was somehow worse than staring. People accepted her presence too easily now.

Lola reached for her wrist without hesitation and guided her closer.

"Sit." She pointed toward a folded towel spread over the bench. "You're gonna be a tiger!"

Riley obeyed automatically.

"You two planned this already?" she asked quietly.

"Obviously," Lola said.

Matilda crouched in front of her with a small paintbrush tucked behind one ear. "We debated tiger or pumpkin."

"Pumpkins are round," Lola said.

"And?"

"Riley is not round."

Matilda hummed thoughtfully before turning back toward Riley. "Good point. Tiger it is."

Riley couldn't help the tiny smile that slipped onto her face.

Matilda noticed immediately.

Her fingers brushed lightly against Riley's knee before she reached for the first paint pot.

"There she is," Matilda murmured.

The paint was cold when it touched Riley's skin.

She flinched instinctively.

"Sorry, sweetheart." Matilda steadied one hand against her thigh while dragging the brush slowly across her shoulder with the other. "Cold?"

Riley nodded.

"It'll warm up in a second."

Lola dipped her own brush into black paint and immediately began adding stripes to Riley's arm with complete concentration.

Unlike Matilda's touch, Lola's was practical. Focused entirely on the paint itself.

Matilda lingered.

A hand resting against Riley's waist while she leaned closer to inspect the stripes. Fingers smoothing paint carefully near her ribs. The occasional absent touch while speaking to someone across the yard. Her brush lightly painted her nipples white, enough for them to peak from the contact. Riley clenched her fists, trying to enjoy the sensation.

None of it felt hidden.

That was the strange part.

"Oh she's adorable," one of the neighbors said while passing by with a tray of drinks.

Riley lowered her eyes automatically.

Matilda smiled without looking away from the stripe she was painting. "She's being very patient for us tonight."

A hand briefly scratched through Riley's hair as the neighbor passed.

Casual.
Affectionate.

Riley stayed still.

"Lift your chin," Matilda said softly.

Two fingers tilted Riley's face upward.

Matilda studied her for a moment with visible satisfaction before painting a thin line of orange across one cheek.

"Perfect."

Lola snorted. "You say that every time you look at her."

"Because I'm consistently correct."

Riley felt heat rise into her face.

The adults nearby laughed quietly.

Matilda noticed the blush immediately.

"Oh, now that's unfair," she said. "How am I supposed to keep painting when she's making expressions like that?"

Riley ducked her head.

Matilda's hand settled briefly at the back of her neck.

Gentle pressure.

Stay.

Not forceful.

Just there.

The grills crackled somewhere behind them while music drifted softly from a speaker near the house. Children shouted across the yard. Someone dropped a tray. Another burst of laughter followed.

And through all of it, Matilda kept touching her.

Openly.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Turn around for me," Matilda said eventually, having Riley stand up.

Riley obeyed.

Cool evening air brushed across her painted skin as Matilda moved behind her.

"Hold still," Lola warned, already reaching for more black paint.

A single finger traced slowly down the center of Riley's spine.

She shivered.

"There we go," Matilda murmured.

Riley heard the smile in her voice.

Then fingertips brushed lightly against the curve of her backside.

"Time to put stripes on your butt," Matilda said. "The fun kind this time."

Lola groaned loudly.

"You are absolutely impossible."

"And yet she likes me anyway."

The joke made Riley's stomach tighten but the memory came back anyway -

A week into her stay she had been punished after she left the house without permission to simply buy milk. When she was leaving the shop, Enforcement was there to take her home.

Matilda had been furious, slapping her across the cheek the second she saw her before commanding her to go upstairs and not leave her room.

That night she had been beaten with a switch but she barely remembered the pain. What lingered was the gentle application of ointment onto her red striped bottom. The welts were gone now but the red lines were still there faintly.

Behind her, Matilda laughed softly, fondly.

A few minutes later Riley tried to step away from the table while the paint dried.

"Don't wander too far," Lola called absentmindedly. “Once that paint dries we’ll finish the rest!”

"Okay."

She had barely taken three steps before fingers closed gently around her shoulder.

Firm enough to stop her.

Riley looked back immediately.

Matilda stood beside one of the lantern posts speaking to a neighbor, though her attention flicked briefly toward Riley.

The pressure eased.

A small squeeze.

Then release.

No words.

Just a reminder.

You can leave.

Not far.

Riley lingered there for a second longer than necessary before settling down beside the patio instead.

Close enough.

Safe enough.

Across the yard someone began applauding as another tray of food arrived from the kitchen.
The sound mixed with music, laughter, and the smell of smoke drifting into the cold autumn air.
For a little while, Riley forgot to feel afraid.

Once the paint had dried enough to stop smudging, Matilda guided Riley up onto the table itself.

"Careful," she murmured, steadying her by the hips as Riley climbed up between the scattered paint pots and cups of cloudy water.

The wood felt cool beneath her thighs.

Children ran laughing somewhere across the yard while smoke drifted lazily overhead. The party kept moving around them naturally, conversations rising and falling beneath the soft crackle of the grill.

Matilda stepped between Riley's knees with a thoughtful hum.

"We missed a spot."

Riley immediately knew which one.

Heat climbed into her face before Matilda had even touched her.

Her hands rested gently against the insides of Riley's thighs, easing them apart just enough to inspect the untouched skin between them. Not rough. Not exposing her to the yard. The angle of Matilda's body shielded most of Riley from view automatically.

Still, Riley's stomach twisted.

"Mom, don't do that," Lola complained immediately from beside the table.

Matilda glanced over without moving her hands. "I'm finishing the paint."

"She looks really uncomfortable."

Riley lowered her eyes quickly.

Matilda only smiled faintly.

"She's a good girl, right Riley?"

The words settled warmly and heavily inside her at the same time.

Matilda leaned closer before Riley could answer, one hand sliding upward to cup her jaw gently.

Their lips brushed.

Barely anything.
Just softness.
Warmth.

But when Matilda started to pull away, Riley followed the movement instinctively before catching herself.

Lola made an exaggerated gagging noise from somewhere nearby.

Matilda laughed quietly against Riley's mouth.

"See?" she murmured softly. "Such a good girl."

Riley's entire face burned.

Yet she stayed exactly where she was while Matilda dipped the brush back into orange paint with calm, careful movements.

The bristles tickled sensitive skin.

Riley jerked slightly before forcing herself still again.

"There you go," Matilda whispered, smoothing one hand reassuringly over her thigh. "Almost done."

Around them the Halloween party carried on uninterrupted.

Paper lanterns swayed overhead.
Someone shouted for more drinks.
Music drifted softly through the garden air.

And seated atop the paint-stained table with Matilda between her legs, Riley felt strangely, terrifyingly safe.

Once the paint had dried enough to stop smudging, Matilda guided Riley up onto the table itself.

"Careful," she murmured, steadying her by the hips as Riley climbed up between the scattered paint pots and cups of cloudy water.

The wood felt cool beneath her thighs.

Children ran laughing somewhere across the yard while smoke drifted lazily overhead. The party kept moving around them naturally, conversations rising and falling beneath the soft crackle of the grill.

Matilda stepped between Riley's knees with a thoughtful hum.

"We missed a spot."

Riley immediately knew which one.

Heat climbed into her face before Matilda had even touched her.

Her hands rested gently against the insides of Riley's thighs, easing them apart just enough to inspect the untouched skin between them. Not rough. Not exposing her to the yard. The angle of Matilda's body shielded most of Riley from view automatically.

Still, Riley's stomach twisted.

"Mom, don't do that," Lola complained immediately from beside the table.

Matilda glanced over without moving her hands. "I'm finishing the paint."

"She looks really uncomfortable."

Riley lowered her eyes quickly.

Matilda only smiled faintly.

"She's a good girl, right Riley?"

The words settled warmly and heavily inside her at the same time.

Matilda leaned closer before Riley could answer, one hand sliding upward to cup her jaw gently.

Their lips brushed.

Barely anything.
Just softness.
Warmth.

But when Matilda started to pull away, Riley followed the movement instinctively before catching herself.

Lola made an exaggerated gagging noise from somewhere nearby.

Matilda laughed quietly against Riley's mouth.

"See?" she murmured softly. "Such a good girl."

Riley's entire face burned.

Yet she stayed exactly where she was while Matilda dipped the brush back into orange paint with calm, careful movements.

The bristles tickled sensitive skin.

Riley jerked slightly before forcing herself still again.

"There you go," Matilda whispered, smoothing one hand reassuringly over her thigh. "Almost done."

Around them the Halloween party carried on uninterrupted.

Paper lanterns swayed overhead.
Someone shouted for more drinks.
Music drifted softly through the garden air.

And seated atop the paint-stained table with Matilda between her legs, Riley felt strangely, terrifyingly safe.

The sun had begun slipping behind the rooftops by the time Matilda finally declared Riley finished.

The backyard changed all at once.

Lanterns glowed brighter against the darkening sky while carved pumpkins flickered to life one by one along the fence. Somewhere down the street children were already shouting excitedly, the distant noise carrying through the cold evening air.

Then, almost like a switch had been flipped, every child in the yard seemed to erupt with energy simultaneously.

Candy buckets appeared from nowhere.
Masks were pulled back into place.
Parents started calling reminders across the garden.

"Okay girls, be safe and have fun," Matilda said as she began gathering abandoned brushes from the table.

Lola had disappeared briefly inside at some point and now returned wearing a corpse bride costume complete with torn white fabric and dark makeup around her eyes.

Riley stared for a second.

"You look dead," she said honestly.

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"It absolutely was."

Lola grabbed her wrist before Riley could argue further.

"We're gonna miss all the good candy if we don't leave now."

"Wait." Riley frowned. "Where are we going?"

Lola blinked at her.

"Trick or treating, silly." She gestured vaguely toward Riley's painted body. "You're all dressed up after all."

Riley snorted softly.

She wasn't dressed up.

She was decorated.

The thought settled strangely inside her as Lola dragged her toward the front gate.

Children in costumes ran past them along the sidewalk while porch lights flickered warmly across the neighborhood. Witches, ghosts, vampires, skeletons.

And then there was Riley.

Bare painted skin.
Collar gleaming softly beneath the lantern light.
Black stripes curling across her body while neighbors smiled at her like she belonged there too.

Nobody stared.

Nobody pointed.

One older woman passing by even bent slightly to scratch beneath Riley's chin as naturally as greeting a family dog.

"Oh what a pretty tiger," she said warmly before continuing down the street.

Riley froze for half a second after she passed.

Then Lola tugged her wrist again impatiently.

"C'mon!"

Riley followed automatically.

Behind them Matilda leaned casually against the open gate, watching the two girls disappear down the sidewalk with the faintest smile still lingering on her face.

Riley stayed close beside Lola as they moved between groups of children along the sidewalk.

Not because she had been told to.

Because separating suddenly felt dangerous.

The streets were crowded now, filled with laughter and masks and porch lights glowing warmly against the dark. Adults lingered near gates with cups in their hands while children sprinted between houses clutching overflowing candy buckets.

Riley kept glancing back instinctively.

Toward Matilda's neighborhood.
Toward familiar streets.
Toward safety.

The thought of getting lost made something uncomfortable tighten low in her stomach.

Not fear of strangers.

Fear of what would happen afterward.

What if someone thought she had wandered off intentionally?
What if Enforcement picked her up again?
What if Matilda thought she had tried to run?

Her fingers curled unconsciously around the edge of Lola's sleeve.

Lola noticed but didn't comment on it.

The first house on the street had fake cobwebs stretched across the porch railings and plastic skeletons hanging from the trees. Half a dozen children crowded the front steps already.

Riley hesitated only briefly before following Lola up beside them.

The door opened.

"Trick or treat!" the children shouted together.

Riley joined them automatically.

The words left her mouth easily, carried by old instinct and memory before she even thought about it.

Just like last year.

For one tiny moment it felt normal.

Cold autumn air.
Candy bowls.
Sticky sidewalks covered in leaves.
Children laughing loudly around her.

Last year she had done this wearing an oversized witch costume her mother bought from a clearance shelf because it was all they could afford.

Last year she had complained about carrying the heavy candy bucket home.

Last year—

Human.

The thought hit hard enough that Riley went strangely still.

The woman at the door smiled warmly while dropping candy into waiting hands. When she reached Riley she paused only briefly before her expression softened further.

"Oh my goodness," she laughed quietly. "What a beautiful tiger."

Candy dropped into Riley's hands.

Then, just before Riley stepped away, the woman scratched gently beneath her chin.

Affectionate.
Absentminded.
Natural.

Riley lowered her eyes immediately.

"Say thank you," Lola whispered beside her.

"Thank you," Riley murmured automatically.

The woman smiled again before moving onto the next child.

Riley followed Lola back down the steps in silence.

Her candy sat untouched in her hands while children rushed around them excitedly.

Human.

Animal.

The distance between those words suddenly felt much shorter than it should have.

The next house sat at the corner of the street beneath a canopy of orange lights and artificial spiderwebs stretched across the hedges.

Music drifted out from the open doorway loud enough to shake the porch railings slightly.

A tall man answered almost immediately after the children knocked, laughing before the door had even opened fully.

"Well aren't you all horrifying tonight."

The smaller children crowded forward first, shoving buckets toward him eagerly while he dropped candy inside by the handful.

Then his attention landed on Riley.

"Oh now that is impressive."

Riley felt his eyes move slowly over the painted stripes covering her body.

She smiled automatically.

The man crouched slightly in front of her, completely unconcerned by the collar around her throat or the fact Riley wore nothing at all besides paint.

"Hold still for me a second, tiger."

Warm hands settled against her waist before sliding upward along her sides with open appreciation. Turning her slightly beneath the porch light. Examining the paintwork.

Riley forced herself to remain relaxed.

To smile.

The touch lingered longer than the others had.

Not cruel.

Not threatening.

But interested.

"Oh wow," he laughed softly. "You even painted everywhere."

Lola immediately made a strangled embarrassed noise beside her.

"Mister Harris—"

"What?" he asked innocently, scratching lightly beneath Riley's chin before finally stepping back. "I was complimenting the craftsmanship."

Riley kept smiling despite the heat crawling across her face.

The candy dropped into her hands afterward felt strangely secondary to the interaction itself.

"Such a patient little thing," the man said warmly toward Lola. "You girls did a great job."

Lola grabbed Riley's wrist almost immediately after that.

"Okay thank you bye."

The words came out too fast.

She practically dragged Riley back down the walkway while the man laughed behind them.

Only once they reached the sidewalk again did Lola finally release her.

"Oh my god."

Riley blinked. "What?"

"He was being weird."

Riley looked back toward the house uncertainly.

The man had already moved on to greeting another group of children at the door.

"He didn't hurt me."

"I know but still." Lola rubbed one hand over her face dramatically. "Adults get so weird around you sometimes."

Riley glanced down at the stripes painted across her stomach.

At the collar catching the porch lights each time she moved.

Then quietly, almost without thinking, she smiled again.

Because despite the embarrassment twisting inside her chest, she had still done what Matilda expected of her.

“I'm an Animal,” Riley explained softly. “We get touched way worse sometimes.”

The words came out matter-of-factly.

Not bitter.
Not ashamed.

Just true.

Lola's expression tightened immediately.

"Right." She looked away for a second before exhaling sharply through her nose. "Animal. Different rules."

Riley tilted her head slightly.

The street around them buzzed with noise and movement while children rushed from house to house carrying armfuls of candy beneath glowing porch lights.

"You okay?" Riley asked quietly.

Lola blinked at her before nodding once.

"Sorry." She adjusted the fake veil hanging from her corpse bride costume. "I just..." Another sigh. "I have trouble seeing you as an Animal sometimes."

Riley went still.

Not physically.

Just inside.

Because that sentence should have made her happy.

A few months ago she would have clung desperately to words like that. Proof that someone still saw her as Human. Proof that she hadn't disappeared completely beneath the collar and paint and expectations wrapped around her life now.

Instead the comment only left her feeling strangely uncertain.

Lola noticed the hesitation immediately.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly. "I know you are one. I just mean..." She struggled for the words. "You're still Riley too."

The cold evening wind brushed against Riley's painted skin.

Still Riley.

Still Animal.

Both things sat uneasily together in her chest.

A group of younger children sprinted past them laughing loudly, one dressed as a skeleton, another dragging fake vampire teeth halfway out of their mouth while trying to talk around them.

Life kept moving around her normally.

Riley looked down at the candy in her hands.

Then at the black stripes curling across her body.

Finally she glanced back toward the street leading home.

Toward Matilda.

Toward safety.

"It's okay," Riley said eventually. "I think Matilda sees me as both too."

Lola studied her face carefully for a moment before smiling faintly.

"Yeah," she admitted quietly. "I think she probably does."

Lola glanced sideways at the growing pile of candy balanced awkwardly in Riley's arms.

Chocolate bars, wrapped sweets, tiny packets of gummies.

Riley held all of it carefully against her chest like she was afraid dropping even one piece might somehow be rude.

"Oh my god," Lola muttered.

"What?"

"You look ridiculous."

Before Riley could respond, Lola stepped closer and tipped open her plastic pumpkin bucket.

"Here." She nudged it upward insistently. "Drop it in."

Riley hesitated.

"But it's yours."

"We split it later, okay?"

Riley smiled immediately at that and carefully transferred the candy into Lola's bucket one piece at a time.

"There." Lola adjusted the handle back onto her wrist. "Much better."

They started toward the next house together, Riley instinctively taking Lola's hand again once they reached the sidewalk.

The contact felt grounding now.
Safe.

After a few quiet steps Riley glanced down at the overflowing bucket.

"Why didn't I get one?"

Lola blinked.

"A candy bucket."

"Oh." Lola shrugged one shoulder. "Dunno. Mom probably didn't want you using it to hide anything."

Riley frowned slightly.

"Hide what?"

Lola looked at her like the answer was obvious.

"Your body maybe?"

Riley instinctively glanced downward.

The candy bucket would've covered part of her stomach if she carried it in front of herself. Maybe more if she held it high enough.

The realization settled strangely in her chest.

Not quite embarrassment.

Not quite comfort either.

Just another quiet reminder.

Visible.

Matilda wanted her visible.

The thought should have bothered her more than it did.

Instead Riley only squeezed Lola's hand slightly tighter as they walked beneath the orange glow of the streetlights.

Around them children laughed and shouted from yard to yard while fallen leaves crunched beneath their feet.

And despite everything, despite the collar around her throat and the paint drying slowly across bare skin, Riley found herself smiling again when the next porch light came into view.

The rest of the evening blurred together into porch lights, laughter, and overflowing candy bowls.

Every house seemed warmer than the last.

Some people simply complimented the paintwork before dropping candy into Lola's bucket. Others crouched down to Riley's level like she was much younger than she actually was.

"Oh, she's precious."

"What a pretty tiger."

"Look at those stripes!"

Hands followed the compliments almost automatically.

A playful pat against her backside as she stepped off a porch.
Fingers scratching beneath her chin.
Gentle touches against her shoulders or waist while adults admired the careful paintwork.

Riley smiled through all of it.

Not because she was told to.

Because the reactions were warm.

Affectionate.

The strange tension she'd carried at the start of the evening slowly loosened more and more with every house they visited.

Soon neighbors were calling ahead before the girls even reached the next gate.

"You have to see the little tiger!"

"Oh my god wait until she gets to your house."

"She's adorable!"

Riley didn't fully realize what was happening.

She only noticed that adults laughed when they saw her.
That they touched her easily.
That they seemed genuinely excited when she appeared at their door.

And somehow, without fail, she always ended up with more candy than everyone else.

By the fifth time someone dropped an extra handful into Lola's bucket specifically "for the tiger," Riley finally frowned in confusion.

"Why do they keep doing that?"

Lola snorted loudly.

"Because you're cute."

Riley immediately rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Another porch light flickered warmly ahead of them while children rushed past carrying glowing plastic pumpkins and pillowcases stuffed with candy.

Lola grinned sideways at her.

"You've basically become neighborhood property for the night."

The words should have sounded cruel.

Instead they only made warmth spread strangely through Riley's chest.

Neighborhood property.

The adults laughing when they saw her.
The hands resting briefly against her painted skin.
The easy affection.
The excitement.

For the first time since becoming an Animal, Riley felt something dangerously close to belonging.

After a couple of hours the candy bucket had become too heavy for Lola to carry comfortably in one hand.

By then one of the neighbors had taken pity on Riley and handed her a paper grocery bag with a friendly smile and a rustle of her hair.

The bag was nearly full now.

Chocolate bars.
Wrapped sweets.
Tiny bags of chips.
Caramel apples wrapped carefully in paper.

The thin handles dug painfully into Riley’s fingers every few minutes, forcing her to switch hands constantly while they walked.

Her feet hurt too.

The cold pavement had numbed them at first, but after street after street the ache had settled deep into her soles and ankles. Tiny bits of gravel still clung stubbornly to paint-covered skin.

The tiger stripes were beginning to crack apart from movement and sweat.

Orange flaked away from her stomach whenever she brushed against Lola accidentally. Black stripes faded around her knees and elbows. Small patches of pink skin showed through now beneath the harsh colors.

Riley kept noticing it every time they passed beneath a streetlight.

Like the tiger was slowly peeling away.

"I think we're done," Lola announced eventually, shifting the heavy candy bucket against her hip. "The barbecue'll probably be starting soon."

Riley glanced up immediately.

"The barbecue?"

Chapter Four: The Barbecue

The backyard had changed by the time they returned home.

The frantic excitement of trick-or-treating had softened into something slower beneath the cold autumn night. Children wandered between houses carrying buckets swollen with candy while adults gathered near fences and firepits with drinks warming their hands. Smoke drifted through the neighborhood carrying the smell of charcoal and cooked meat.

Warm lanternlight glowed from Matilda’s backyard.

Lola pushed open the gate first.

“We’re back!”

Conversation drifted across the yard immediately. Someone waved from the patio. Another neighbor called hello to Lola while music hummed softly somewhere near the house.

Riley followed more quietly behind them.

The backyard looked different now. The paint table from earlier had been cleared away entirely, replaced by long folding tables covered with trays of food wrapped carefully against the cold. Bowls of chips and candy sat between bottles and paper plates while smoke curled lazily upward into the dark sky.

And near the center of the yard stood the spit.

Riley slowed instinctively.

The long steel rod rested above a wide bed of glowing coals while metal supports held it suspended over the firepit. Blackened handles protruded from either side from repeated use.

Everything about it looked practiced.
Normal.

Her stomach tightened anyway.

The smell of cooked meat suddenly seemed heavier in the air.

Riley’s fingers curled slightly around the paper candy bag hanging from her wrist while her thoughts quietly arranged themselves into something calmer.

Of course.

Animals were food.

That was the System.

The fear came first, sudden and cold in her chest, but embarrassment followed almost immediately afterward. Why wouldn’t there be a spit? This was a barbecue. Someone had obviously volunteered for it.

The realization settled over her slowly enough that panic never fully arrived. Just a heavy nervousness sitting low in her stomach while she tried to prepare herself properly.

If this was what Matilda wanted from her then she would behave well.

No crying.
No begging.
No making a scene.

Animals were supposed to accept their purpose.

“Riley?”

The voice startled her from the thought immediately.

She looked up.

Matilda stood beside the grill balancing a tray against one hip. Loose strands of dark hair framed her face while heat from the fire softened her cheeks pink beneath the lanternlight.

Concern flickered across her expression almost instantly.

“There you are,” she said softly.

Riley crossed the grass toward her automatically while Lola hurried ahead toward the food tables. The moment Riley stepped close enough, Matilda’s free hand settled lightly against the small of her back.

Warm.

Steady.

Riley relaxed without meaning to.

“You alright?” Matilda asked quietly.

Riley hesitated.

Her eyes drifted briefly toward the spit before she could stop herself.

Matilda followed the glance immediately.

Understanding crossed her face at once.

“Oh sweetheart.”

The hand against Riley’s back stroked slowly upward between her shoulders.

“I thought…” Riley swallowed softly. “I thought maybe it was for me.”

The words sounded small and childish once spoken aloud.

Matilda answered immediately.

“No.”

Firm.
Certain.

Riley looked up at her.

Matilda’s expression softened further.

“You really thought we were going to cook you tonight?”

Riley lowered her eyes.

“A little,” she admitted quietly.

There was no laughter in Matilda’s reaction. No disbelief either. Just understanding.

“Well we aren’t,” she said gently. “You’re staying with us for a long time if I have anything to say about it.”

Something deep in Riley’s chest loosened painfully at the words.

Before she could answer, another voice drifted across the yard.

“So this is Riley?”

Riley turned instinctively.

A young woman approached carrying a paper plate balanced easily in one hand. She looked older than Riley by several years, maybe nineteen at most. Completely naked like any Animal, though the watch around her wrist still glowed green beneath the lanternlight.

Volunteer.

Dark hair rested loosely across her shoulders while cold air pinkened her skin. She looked completely comfortable standing among the Humans gathered around the yard, smiling easily like she belonged there.

“This is Lisa,” Matilda said warmly. “She lives across the street.”

Lisa smiled at Riley without hesitation.

“Hi.”

Riley lowered her gaze automatically.

“Hello.”

“She’s adorable,” Lisa said quietly to Matilda, though Riley still heard it.

Heat rose immediately into Riley’s cheeks.

“She’s shy,” Lola announced from somewhere near the snack table.

“I noticed,” Lisa replied lightly.

Matilda’s hand remained resting against Riley’s back while they spoke, her thumb moving absently in small circles against Riley’s skin.

The touch grounded her more than she wanted to admit.

Lisa noticed Riley glance back toward the firepit again.

For a moment her expression softened slightly.

“You thought it was for you?”

Riley hesitated before nodding once.

Heat crept into her cheeks immediately afterward.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Lisa said gently. “I probably would've thought the same thing.”

That surprised Riley enough to look up at her properly for the first time.

Lisa gave a small shrug, shifting the paper plate lightly between her hands.

“It looks intimidating.”

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the spit turning slowly above the coals.

The smile she wore afterward was softer now.
Less casual.

“But I volunteered,” she added quietly. “Nobody asked me to.”

Riley’s eyes drifted toward the green watch around Lisa’s wrist.

“You chose it?”

Lisa nodded once.

“A few months ago.”

There was no fear in her voice.
No sadness.

If anything she sounded proud.

Riley found herself studying her more carefully now.

Lisa looked calm.
Happy even.

Not someone waiting to die.

Matilda must have noticed the confusion moving across Riley’s face because her fingers slipped gently beneath Riley’s chin, guiding her attention back toward her.

“Lisa chose this herself,” she explained softly. “The neighborhood does this every year when someone volunteers.”

Riley nodded slowly.

“I understand.”

And she thought maybe she did.

The world suddenly felt stranger than it had a few minutes earlier.

Because Lisa was smiling.

Children laughed nearby while smoke drifted warmly through the yard and neighbors talked around the fire like this was any ordinary party.

Nobody looked upset.
Nobody pitied her.

They admired her.

“You’re still tense,” Matilda murmured softly.

Riley hadn’t realized it until then.

The muscles across her shoulders loosened slightly beneath Matilda’s hands as the older woman rubbed warmth back into them again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” Matilda’s voice softened immediately. “You don’t need to apologize for being nervous.”

Her thumb brushed lightly across Riley’s shoulder.

“You’re okay.”

The words settled warmly into Riley’s chest despite herself.

Lisa smiled faintly watching the interaction.

“She’s attached already,” she observed lightly.

Riley flushed harder.

Matilda only smiled softly before guiding Riley gently toward the tables with one hand still resting against her back.

“Come on,” she said. “Before Lola eats all the candy.”

“I heard that!” Lola called immediately from across the yard.

That finally pulled the smallest smile from Riley.

Matilda noticed at once.

“There’s my girl,” she murmured warmly while the fire crackled steadily behind them beneath the cold Halloween sky.

Riley stayed close to Lola after that.

Not because anyone told her to.

It just felt easier that way.

The younger girl had already dumped half her candy onto one of the patio chairs and was now sorting it into uneven piles with complete seriousness while sitting cross-legged beneath the lanternlight.

“Those are mine,” Lola said immediately as Riley sat beside her. “You can have the peanut butter cups though.”

Riley looked down at the pile.

“There’s a lot.”

“I know.” Lola sounded very pleased with herself. “Mrs. Green gave out full-sized bars this year.”

Riley picked up one of the peanut butter cups carefully, peeling the wrapper back while Lola continued organizing candy with the focus of someone handling important financial documents.

The chocolate tasted overly sweet after the cold air outside.

Nice.

Simple.

For a little while Riley let herself focus entirely on that instead of the firepit.

Conversation drifted warmly around the yard while smoke curled upward into the night sky. Music played quietly somewhere near the back door. Neighbors moved between tables carrying drinks and paper plates while children traded candy near the patio.

And through all of it Riley remained aware of Matilda.

Not constantly staring.

Just… aware.

The older woman moved easily through the gathering speaking with neighbors while carrying trays back and forth between the grill and tables. Every few minutes her attention drifted back toward Riley automatically.

Checking.

Sometimes it was only a glance.

Other times Matilda passed close enough for her fingers to brush briefly across Riley’s shoulder or the back of her neck before moving on again. Casual little touches that barely interrupted conversation.

Each one settled something restless inside Riley’s chest.

At one point Matilda stopped beside the patio chair long enough to press a fresh drink into Riley’s hands.

“You’ve actually gotta hydrate tonight,” she said lightly.

Riley accepted it immediately with both hands.

“Thank you.”

Matilda’s fingers lingered briefly against her shoulder afterward.

“You doing alright now?”

Riley nodded once.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Something soft flickered briefly across Matilda’s face at that before her hand slid gently through Riley’s hair once.

“Good girl.”

Warmth spread instantly through Riley’s chest.

Then Matilda was moving again, returning to the grill while neighbors pulled her into another conversation.

Beside her Lola snorted quietly.

“She likes you.”

Riley lowered her eyes toward the drink in her hands.

“I know.”

The answer came so soft Lola almost missed it.

Across the yard Lisa had gradually become the center of attention without seeming to mean to. Neighbors drifted toward her naturally offering drinks, touching her shoulders warmly as they spoke, thanking her quietly in ways Riley couldn’t fully hear from the patio.

Lisa accepted all of it easily.

Not awkward.
Not frightened.

A woman Riley didn’t recognize kissed Lisa’s cheek before handing her a fresh beer. Another neighbor squeezed her hand while speaking softly enough to make Lisa laugh under her breath.

Nobody treated her like someone already dead.

That part felt strangest of all.

They treated her like someone important.

Like tonight belonged to her.

Riley watched silently while slowly eating another piece of candy.

The fire crackled steadily nearby.

Lisa smiled at something an older man said before taking another drink while warm lanternlight flickered softly across her bare skin and green watch.

Volunteer.

Riley still couldn’t fully understand it.

Yet Lisa looked calmer than anyone else in the yard.

Eventually Matilda stepped away from the grill again carrying a fresh plate in one hand. Her eyes swept briefly across the party before settling naturally on Riley and Lola near the patio.

“There are my girls.”

Lola immediately reached for one of the snacks from the plate.

“Hey,” Matilda protested mildly. “I was still walking.”

“You were walking slowly.”

Riley sat a little straighter automatically as Matilda stopped beside her chair. One warm hand settled absentmindedly against the back of Riley’s neck while Matilda looked out across the yard.

The conversations had started thinning now.
Quieting.

People were gathering closer to the firepit without being asked.

Lisa stood near the center of the yard speaking softly with two older women while someone lowered the music near the house.

Matilda’s thumb moved once gently against Riley’s neck before she finally lifted her voice slightly.

“Alright everyone,” she called warmly across the backyard. “Can I have a little quiet for a minute?”

The crowd gradually settled into silence.

Conversations faded one by one until only the fire remained, crackling softly beneath the cold autumn air. Neighbors turned their attention toward Matilda near the center of the yard while lanternlight flickered warmly across the gathered faces.

Lisa moved to stand beside her.

Her cheeks were flushed pink now, her movements just slightly loose beneath the alcohol, though the smile she wore remained calm and easy. Someone passed her another drink as she crossed the grass and she accepted it with a quiet laugh before stopping beside the firepit.

Matilda rested one hand lightly against Lisa’s shoulder.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” she said warmly, her voice carrying easily across the backyard. “It’s been a wonderful evening.”

Soft agreement drifted through the crowd.

“And an even better introduction to our neighborhood for little Riley.”

Dozens of eyes shifted toward her at once.

Riley froze instinctively near the patio.

Heat rushed immediately into her cheeks as attention settled over her body. The tiger paint across her skin had begun flaking badly now after hours outside, leaving uneven patches of bare skin showing beneath the fading orange and black.

She lifted one small awkward hand in a hesitant wave.

A few neighbors smiled warmly back at her.

Someone near the firepit even gave a little clap.

Riley lowered her hand quickly afterward, suddenly very aware again of:
her collar,
her bare skin,
the way Matilda’s neighbors looked at her now with gentle curiosity rather than discomfort.

Matilda’s expression softened briefly when she looked toward Riley.

Then the mood shifted again.

Subtly.
Naturally.

Matilda drew a slow breath before continuing.

“Now,” she said more carefully, her playful tone fading into something calmer, more respectful, “Lisa already chose her preferred method earlier this year.”

The yard remained completely silent now.

Even the children had gone still.

Beside her Lisa took another small sip from her drink before lowering the cup loosely against her thigh. She didn’t look frightened.

If anything she looked peaceful.

Matilda’s hand remained resting lightly against her shoulder.

“She chose hanging,” Matilda continued gently. “Quick. Traditional. Family approved.”

Lisa smiled faintly at that last part.

A few people in the crowd nodded quietly.

Riley felt her stomach tighten again.

Not panic.

Something heavier.

Because nobody here was pretending this wasn’t real anymore.

The spit still turned slowly over the fire behind them.
Smoke drifted upward into the night.
Neighbors stood quietly with drinks warming their hands while a nineteen-year-old girl calmly waited to die in front of them.

And somehow the atmosphere still felt… kind.

That part unsettled Riley more than anything else.

All at once the backyard began quietly shifting into something else.

The soft conversations faded into smaller voices while neighbors moved with calm familiarity around the garden. Nobody rushed. Nobody looked distressed. Plates were gathered from tables. Drinks were refreshed. Children were guided gently toward the patio near the house while adults drifted naturally toward the back of the yard beneath the old oak tree.

Riley watched in silence.

A rope appeared seemingly from nowhere, carried by one of the older men from the garage near the alleyway. He tossed it easily over one of the thick branches overhead while another neighbor steadied the ladder beneath him.

The branch barely moved beneath the weight.

Strong enough.

Riley’s stomach tightened quietly.

The cold realization settled deeper now that this was truly happening.

Not someday.
Not theoretically.

Tonight.

Beside the firepit Lisa remained calm through all of it.

Someone refilled her drink again. Another neighbor hugged her tightly enough to make her laugh. She accepted every touch and every kind word with flushed cheeks and soft smiles while lanternlight flickered warmly across her bare skin.

Matilda stayed close to her the entire time.

Riley noticed that most.

The constant little touches.

A hand resting against Lisa’s shoulder while they spoke quietly together. Fingers brushing her arm. The small reassuring pressure at the center of her back while neighbors approached to say goodbye.

Then Matilda leaned closer, saying something softly enough that Riley couldn’t hear it from the patio.

Lisa laughed immediately.

A real laugh.
Warm and slightly breathless from the alcohol.

Riley watched Matilda’s hand slide lower absentmindedly, settling gently against the younger woman’s hip before briefly cupping her bottom through nothing but bare skin.

The gesture looked so casual.
So familiar.

Lisa leaned into it easily.

Then Matilda kissed her.

Softly.
Directly on the lips.

The sight sent sudden heat rushing into Riley’s face.

She looked away immediately, eyes dropping toward the half-empty candy bucket beside her feet while embarrassment twisted warmly through her chest.

Not disgust.

Something stranger than that.

Because nobody around them reacted oddly at all.

The kiss wasn’t treated like scandal.
Or lust.
Or spectacle.

Just affection.

Just goodbye.

And somehow that made the moment feel far more intimate than if it had been hidden.

Matilda pulled back only slightly afterward, her hand still resting warmly against Lisa’s hip while the younger woman smiled against her mouth.

“Careful,” Lisa murmured softly, laughing under her breath. “You’re supposed to be hosting.”

“I am hosting,” Matilda replied easily.

Her fingers drifted lower for only a moment, hidden briefly by the angle of Lisa’s body and the gathering crowd around them. Lisa inhaled sharply afterward, shoulders tensing before soft laughter escaped her again.

Matilda leaned close enough for only those nearest to hear.

“We’ll turn it on when you drop,” she murmured playfully. “You can’t hang without an orgasm or two, right?”

Lisa flushed hard enough for the color to spread visibly across her chest before she laughed again, ducking her head against Matilda’s shoulder in embarrassed amusement.

A few nearby neighbors smiled knowingly at the exchange.

Riley felt heat rush immediately into her own face.

She looked away at once, staring down toward the grass near her bare feet while her pulse fluttered unevenly in her chest.

The embarrassment arrived first.

Then confusion.

Then something softer and stranger beneath both.

Because the moment hadn’t felt cruel.

Not even degrading.

Matilda had touched Lisa the same way she touched everyone she cared about tonight:
warmly,
casually,
affectionately.

Like pleasure itself had become part of the goodbye.

Riley swallowed quietly while voices continued softly around the yard and preparations beneath the oak tree carried on beneath the glow of lanternlight and fire.

“What did you just do?” Riley asked quietly once Lisa had been pulled away by another group of neighbors for more hugs and drinks.

Matilda glanced down toward her.

“Hm?”

“With Lisa.”

Understanding crossed Matilda’s face almost immediately.

“Oh.” She smiled faintly. “I was just helping her relax.”

Riley hesitated.

“How?”

Instead of answering immediately, Matilda reached into the pocket of her coat and held up a small wireless remote between two fingers.

It was sleek and silver, elegant enough that Riley almost didn’t understand what she was looking at at first. Then her eyes settled on the single button in the center.

Vibrate.

The word was written beneath it in delicate cursive.

Heat rushed instantly into Riley’s face.

“Oh.”

Matilda’s smile softened slightly at her reaction.

“She was nervous earlier,” she said simply. “This helps.”

Riley stared at the remote for another second before quickly looking away again.

Around them the backyard remained warm with conversation and drifting smoke while neighbors continued preparing quietly beneath the oak tree.

And somehow that unsettled Riley almost more than the rope itself.

Because nobody here separated comfort from death.

They folded them together gently,
carefully,
lovingly,
until Riley could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.

The backyard had gone completely still by the time Lisa was guided beneath the oak tree.

Even the music near the patio had been turned off now, leaving only the soft crackle of the firepit and the rustling of cold leaves overhead. Lanternlight flickered across gathered faces while neighbors stood shoulder to shoulder around the garden in respectful silence.

Lisa climbed onto the stool without hesitation.

Someone helped steady her arm while another neighbor adjusted the rope hanging from the branch overhead. The noose rested against her throat a moment later, pale fibers stark against flushed skin.

Riley couldn’t stop staring at it.

The knot.
The rope creaking softly against the branch.
Lisa’s breathing.

Everything suddenly felt horribly real.

Lisa looked out across the gathered neighbors and smiled nervously.

“Well,” she said softly, voice trembling slightly through a laugh, “thank you for feeding everyone.”

A few people smiled back at her through wet eyes.

Someone near the patio started clapping quietly first.

Others joined a moment later.

Not loud.
Not mocking.

Warm.

Supportive.

Like encouragement.

Matilda stood close beside the stool with one hand resting gently against Lisa’s arm while another neighbor passed her the small remote from earlier.

Lisa laughed again under her breath, cheeks flushed hard now.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

Then the stool was kicked away.

The switch clicked almost simultaneously.

Riley flinched violently at the sound of the rope snapping taut above the crowd.

Lisa’s body jerked hard beneath the branch, a sharp choking gasp escaping her before the applause suddenly swelled louder around the yard.

The sound drowned everything else.

Hands clapping.
Voices cheering encouragement.
People calling Lisa’s name warmly.

But Riley still saw it.

The involuntary movement.
Lisa’s bare feet kicking helplessly against empty air.
Her toes curling tightly.
The violent instinctive twitching of a body that had not accepted death nearly as calmly as the mind had tried to.

The rope creaked overhead with every movement.

And somehow the cheering made it worse.

Because nobody around Riley looked horrified.

They looked proud.

Grateful.

Loving.

A woman near the front wiped tears from her eyes while still applauding. Someone else raised a drink toward Lisa’s struggling body like a toast.

Riley’s stomach twisted painfully.

The smell of smoke suddenly felt suffocating in her lungs.

Because Lisa had walked willingly into this.
Smiling.
Laughing.
Accepting kisses and drinks moments earlier.

And Riley —
safe beside Matilda,
warm beneath lanternlight,
collared and protected —

had done nothing to deserve surviving instead.

Chapter Five: Useful

The party began thinning out slowly after the food was served.

Lanterns still swayed gently overhead beneath the cold autumn wind, but the sharp excitement of Halloween had softened into something quieter now. Tired children dragged candy buckets behind them across the grass while adults lingered around folding tables nursing the last of their drinks.

The smell had changed too.

Earlier the yard carried charcoal smoke and sweet cider and cheap candy.

Now it smelled mostly like grease.

Cooked meat.
Beer.
Wet leaves.

Riley moved quietly between the tables gathering discarded paper plates into a large black trash bag clutched against her hip.

Nobody had told her to help clean.

That almost made it feel more important.

A man sitting near the firepit passed her his empty plastic cup without even looking up from his conversation. His fingers brushed lazily along her wrist as he let go.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Riley lowered her eyes automatically.

“You’re welcome.”

Another guest stopped her near the patio steps long enough to smear leftover frosting from his thumb onto the tip of her nose with a drunken laugh.

“There,” he announced proudly. “Now you match the cupcakes.”

The adults around him chuckled softly.

Riley smiled because she was supposed to.

Warm fingers briefly squeezed her hip as she moved past the table again a few minutes later.

Someone scratched lightly beneath her chin while thanking her for collecting plates.

Another hand lingered slightly too long against the curve of her backside while squeezing past near the grill.

None of it shocked her anymore.

Not really.

Alcohol blurred boundaries for Humans the same way conditioning erased them for Animals. People became softer with touch after enough drinks. More casual. More entitled.

Riley simply accepted it all with lowered eyes and quiet politeness while the trash bag slowly filled against her side.

Good girl.

Useful girl.

The words drifted constantly through her head now even when nobody spoke them aloud.

Near the firepit, volunteers from the neighborhood had begun portioning out the remaining meat into sealed containers for distribution.

Most of it went to Lisa’s family.

Riley watched quietly from across the yard while aluminum trays disappeared into insulated coolers one after another beneath the lanternlight.

Nobody treated it strangely.

Nobody cried.

Lisa’s mother even smiled while accepting one of the containers from a neighbor.

Proud.

Grateful.

Normal.

The wooden burial box rested separately atop one of the patio tables near the back door.

Closed.

Polished dark oak.

Small enough to carry comfortably in both hands.

Riley knew exactly what sat inside it.

The thought made something twist low in her stomach every time she looked toward it.

Her head.

Preserved carefully for burial instead of public display.

An honor.

That was how everyone here seemed to view it.

Riley tied off the full trash bag and carried it toward the bins near the side fence.

The backyard had grown quieter now.

Music still drifted softly from the speakers near the house, but most conversations had lowered into tired murmurs beneath the crackling fire.

The spit above the coals stood empty now.

Cleaned.

Only dark grease stains remained beneath it in the dirt.

Riley slowed near the oak tree at the edge of the yard.

The rope still hung there.

Empty.

Swaying faintly in the cold wind.

For a moment she simply stared at it.

Then her fingers rose unconsciously toward the collar around her throat.

Cool metal beneath warm skin.

Her own pulse fluttered faintly against her fingertips.

Lisa had stood there earlier smiling beneath the lanternlight while neighbors praised her bravery.

And now pieces of her sat wrapped carefully inside coolers while her head rested quietly inside a wooden box waiting to be buried.

Useful.

Valuable.

Wanted.

Riley’s eyes drifted slowly upward toward the hanging noose.

She imagined it tightening around her own throat.

Her feet leaving the ground.

Body twisting slowly above the yard while smoke drifted upward through the cold autumn air.

Would they praise her too?

Would Matilda stand beneath the tree looking proud?

The thought should have horrified her.

Instead it settled somewhere deep and aching inside her chest.

Because Lisa had given something important tonight.

And Riley suddenly wasn’t sure what she gave anyone at all.

A soft hand settled suddenly against the middle of her back.

Riley startled hard enough to nearly jump.

“There you are.”

Matilda’s voice.

Warm.
Close.

Riley lowered her hand immediately from the collar.

“Sorry,” she murmured automatically. “I was cleaning.”

Matilda’s eyes flicked once toward the rope still swaying gently overhead.

Then back to Riley.

Something quieter settled into her expression almost immediately.

Not anger.

Recognition.

“You’ve been working all night,” Matilda said softly.

Riley shrugged weakly.

“I wanted to help.”

“You already did.”

The answer came without hesitation.

Matilda stepped closer beside her beneath the oak tree, one arm sliding slowly around Riley’s waist while cold wind stirred fallen leaves around their bare feet.

Riley melted into the contact before she could stop herself.

Across the yard laughter rose softly from the remaining guests while lanternlight flickered warmly through the dark.

And above them, the empty noose swayed gently in the autumn wind.

“Would you like to watch me hang?” Riley asked absently.

The question drifted into the cold air so casually it almost sounded like she was asking whether Matilda wanted more cider.

“Not right now or anything,” she added quietly a second later. “Not unless you want me to.”

Matilda’s hands stilled instantly against her waist.

The slow affectionate stroking stopped.

For a moment neither of them moved beneath the oak tree.

Lanternlight flickered softly across the yard while laughter drifted faintly from the remaining guests near the firepit. Somewhere behind them someone dropped a bottle into a recycling bin with a hollow clatter.

Riley kept staring upward at the empty noose swaying gently overhead.

“I already told you earlier,” Matilda said at last. Her voice remained calm, though quieter now. “I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

Riley nodded faintly.

“But it would excite you, right?”

The words came out thoughtful instead of accusatory.

Curious.

Like she was trying to understand something important.

Matilda fell silent again.

Riley felt the warmth of her body behind her. The stillness in her hands. The slight tightening of her fingers where they rested against Riley’s stomach.

Finally:

“It would,” Matilda admitted softly. “If it was my decision.”

Riley’s breath caught slightly.

Not because of the answer.

Because of how honest it sounded.

She lowered her eyes toward the grass.

“Oh.”

The noose creaked quietly overhead as the wind shifted.

Matilda rested her chin briefly against Riley’s hair before continuing.

“There’s a difference between loss and ownership.”

Riley frowned faintly.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know.” Matilda’s fingers resumed moving slowly against her waist again. “That’s because nobody explained it to you properly.”

The warmth returned little by little with the touch.

Steady.
Grounding.

“When Lisa volunteered tonight, she belonged to the System.” Matilda spoke gently, carefully. “People admired her because sacrifice is admirable. But she wasn’t ours.”

Riley listened silently.

Matilda’s arms tightened slightly around her from behind.

“You are.”

The words settled heavily into Riley’s chest.

“You’re my Companion. My responsibility. My girl.” Her lips brushed lightly against Riley’s temple. “That changes things.”

Riley stared at the rope above them.

“Would you still think I looked pretty?”

Matilda actually laughed softly at that.

Such a strange question.

Such a Riley question.

“I think you’d look beautiful doing almost anything,” she murmured warmly. “But that doesn’t mean I want to bury you.”

Heat crept faintly into Riley’s face despite herself.

The answer soothed something aching inside her while simultaneously making the tightness worse.

Because part of her still couldn’t stop comparing herself to Lisa.

One girl had fed an entire neighborhood.

The other carried trash bags and accepted pats on the head.

Useful.

But not important.

Matilda seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts immediately.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmured.

Riley stiffened slightly.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to measure your worth by how much of yourself you can give away.”

The words struck hard enough Riley went still.

Matilda sighed softly against her hair.

“Sweetheart, Companions are not disposable livestock.”

Riley looked up at that automatically.

Confusion flickered visibly across her face.

Because somewhere deep down, she wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

Matilda noticed.

Of course she noticed.

“Oh, pet,” she whispered quietly.

One hand slipped upward beneath Riley’s chin, turning her gently away from the tree and back toward the warmth of the yard instead.

Toward the lanterns.
Toward the fire.
Toward home.

“I think your trainers taught you how to serve,” Matilda said softly. “But not how to be loved.”

Riley spent hours with that thought, turning it over and over in her head until the party finally ended and Matilda sent her upstairs.

That night Riley couldn’t sleep.

The house had gone quiet hours ago.

Pipes creaked softly somewhere inside the walls while cold wind brushed faintly against the outside of the windows. From down the hallway came the muffled sound of Lola shifting occasionally in her bed before settling again into heavy sleep.

Riley lay awake staring at the ceiling.

The collar around her throat felt unusually noticeable tonight.

Not uncomfortable.

Just present.

Her fingertips drifted slowly across the engraved metal while her thoughts circled endlessly back toward the oak tree outside.

Useful.

The word sat heavily inside Riley’s chest.

But beneath it now lingered something else too.

Matilda’s hands.

Riley squeezed her eyes shut briefly.

After the guests had finally gone home, Matilda had stayed outside with her in the empty garden beneath the lanternlight.

Not talking much.

Just touching her.

Slow absent strokes across Riley’s stomach while they sat together near the dying fire. Fingers tracing lazily along her hips. Gentle hands smoothing over her thighs whenever Riley’s thoughts drifted somewhere dark again.

At one point Matilda had pulled her quietly between her knees while seated in the patio chair behind her, arms loosely wrapped around Riley’s waist while fingertips wandered softly over her body beneath the cold autumn air.

Not demanding.

Not sexual exactly.

Just… possessive.

Comforting.

Riley hated how much it had helped.

Every touch seemed to pull her slightly further away from the image of the hanging rope waiting beneath the oak tree. Not erasing the guilt exactly.

Just quieting it.

Like Matilda’s hands gave her something else to focus on.

Belonging.
Warmth.
Being wanted.

And Riley had leaned into it shamefully fast.

She remembered the way Matilda’s fingertips had drifted slowly across the underside of her breast while speaking softly about completely ordinary things. The neighborhood children. Lola stealing too much candy. Whether rain would ruin the decorations by morning.

Riley barely listened to the conversation. Her attention kept drifting back to the simple fact that Matilda hadn't stopped touching her.

Every gentle stroke seemed to quiet the thoughts she couldn't escape on her own.

Matilda never pushed further.

That almost made it worse.

Because Riley realized somewhere during the quiet darkness of the garden that she wanted her to.

The thought made heat creep slowly into her face against the pillow now.

Not because it felt dirty.

Because it felt relieving.

Her training sat too deep inside her now to separate comfort from service cleanly anymore. A Companion soothed emotional distress. A Companion provided warmth. Physical affection. Intimacy.

Body and soul.

Riley rolled slowly onto her side beneath the blankets.

Would it make Matilda happy?

The question settled softly into the darkness beside her.

Not the hanging.

The other thing.

If Riley climbed into her bed right now and offered herself properly, would Matilda smile at her that warm proud way she did whenever Riley behaved correctly?

Would she stroke her hair afterward and call her a good girl?

The thoughts made guilt twist together with something embarrassingly close to longing.

And Riley…

Riley just wanted to belong to someone so completely that she never had to wonder whether she deserved to stay.

Riley climbed quietly out of bed.

Moonlight spilled pale silver across the bedroom floor, tracing soft shadows along her body as she stood. At thirteen she still looked unfinished somehow. Limbs a little too long. Hips only beginning to round. The faint swell of her chest casting delicate shadows across her ribs beneath the cold light from the window.

Young.

Still growing.

The collar around her throat gleamed softly as she moved toward the door.

The house felt impossibly quiet at this hour.

Floorboards creaked faintly beneath her bare feet while she stepped into the hallway, pausing automatically outside Lola’s room first. The younger girl had collapsed sideways across the blankets hours earlier still clutching part of her candy haul against her chest.

Riley smiled faintly.

Then she continued down the hallway.

Matilda’s bedroom door stood slightly open already, warm amber light spilling softly through the narrow gap and across the dark carpet outside.

Riley hesitated there.

Butterflies twisted violently inside her stomach now.

Nervousness.
Embarrassment.
Anticipation.

But beneath all of it sat something heavier.

Purpose.

Companions served body and soul.

The phrase echoed quietly through her head while she pushed the bedroom door open.

A lamp beside the bed provided the only light inside the room. Soft golden shadows stretched across the walls while rain tapped faintly against the windows somewhere beyond the curtains.

Matilda sat propped comfortably beneath the blankets with a book resting open against her lap. Reading glasses perched low along her nose.

She looked up immediately.

“Riley?”

Warm surprise softened her voice instantly.

Welcoming.

Riley didn’t answer.

Instead she stepped quietly closer before climbing carefully onto the mattress, the blankets dipping softly beneath her weight as she crawled forward on hands and knees toward the older woman.

Matilda stayed perfectly still watching her.

The book lowered slowly onto the covers beside her.

Understanding arrived almost immediately afterward.

Riley saw the exact moment it happened in her eyes.

Not shock.

Recognition.

“Oh, pet.”

The words came out quiet.

Gentle.

Riley stopped close enough for Matilda to touch her now, moonlight and lamplight mingling softly across bare skin while her pulse hammered violently inside her chest.

Matilda studied her carefully for several long seconds.

“Are you sure?” she asked softly.

Riley nodded.

“I am.”

Something softened in Matilda's expression.

Then she lifted the blankets beside her and patted the empty space warmly.

“Just sleep beside me for now. That would make me happy.”

Riley blinked.

For a moment she simply stared at her.

Because somehow that answer felt harder to process than rejection would have.

No instructions.
No demands.
No expectation for her to perform correctly.

Just warmth.

Matilda waited patiently while Riley’s thoughts visibly tangled behind her eyes.

Then finally Riley slipped beneath the blankets beside her.

The bed felt warm immediately.

Safe.

Matilda turned off the lamp afterward, plunging the room into soft moonlit darkness before settling back against the pillows beside her.

For a few quiet seconds neither of them spoke.

Then Matilda’s arm opened silently beside her.

Invitation.


Riley settled carefully against her.

The movement felt almost embarrassingly easy.

One second she was hesitating beneath the blankets, uncertain where to put her hands or how much space she was allowed to occupy.

The next she was tucked comfortably against Matilda's side while one arm rested loosely around her shoulders.

Warm.

The realization hit harder than it should have.

Not the temperature.

The feeling.

Safe.

Matilda's hand moved slowly through her hair, untangling strands without any real purpose beyond touching her.

There was nothing Riley needed to do.

No instructions followed.

No expectations.

The hand simply remained there.

Stroke after stroke.

Gentle.

Patient.

Riley listened to the steady rhythm of Matilda's breathing in the darkness.

The house had gone completely still around them.

No guests.
No lanterns.
No music.

Just this.

For a long time neither of them spoke.

Riley found herself waiting anyway.

Waiting for some task.
Some correction.
Some reason she had been invited here.

Eventually she couldn't stop herself.

"Ma'am?"

A sleepy hum answered her.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

Riley swallowed.

Then immediately felt foolish.

The question sounded childish even inside her own head.

Still, she asked it.

"Do I need to do anything?"

The hand in her hair paused.

Only for a moment.

Then it resumed.

Slow.

Steady.

"No."

The answer came so easily.

As though the idea itself was strange.

Riley stared into the darkness.

"Oh."

Matilda shifted slightly beside her.

The mattress dipped softly beneath the movement.

"You look after Lola."

A kiss brushed lightly against the top of Riley's head.

"You help around the house."

Another slow stroke through her hair.

"You make me laugh."

Riley felt her throat tighten unexpectedly.

"And you're very sweet."

The words settled heavily inside her chest.

Because they sounded like reasons.

Not duties.

Reasons.

Things Matilda liked about her.

Not things Riley produced.

Not things Riley accomplished.

Her.

The distinction felt impossibly important.

"I don't mean right now," Riley whispered.

Matilda was quiet for a second.

Then she sighed softly.

Understanding.

"Oh, pet."

The hand left Riley's hair long enough to cup her cheek.

Warm fingers.

Gentle pressure.

Turning Riley's face upward slightly despite the darkness.

"You never need to earn being loved when we're alone."

The words landed with almost physical force.

Riley stopped breathing for a moment.

Because some part of her had been trying to do exactly that since the day she'd arrived.

Earning meals.

Earning praise.

Earning her room.

Earning safety.

Earning tomorrow.

Matilda's thumb brushed lightly across her cheek.

"You belong here before you've done a single thing."

The room went quiet again.

Riley curled a little closer without consciously deciding to.

Matilda welcomed the movement immediately.

One arm tightening around her.

No hesitation.

No conditions.

No transaction.

Just warmth.

The kind that asked for nothing back.

And lying there in the darkness, listening to the steady beat of Matilda's heart beneath her ear, Riley felt something inside her loosen for the first time all night.

The guilt wasn't gone.

The questions weren't gone.

Lisa was still dead.

The world was still the world.

But for a little while, none of that mattered.

Because nobody was asking anything from her.

Nobody needed her to perform.

Nobody expected her to prove she deserved the space she occupied.

She was simply allowed to exist.

And somehow that felt far more frightening—and far more comforting—than any task ever had.

I'm going to take another break from writing for now. I've tied up most of the loose ends of my stories.

>>30590
Just read the first chapter so far but really like it. Interesting to hear a little more about how the world has changed. Have you ever seen the movie "Fido"?

Great sequel to Riley's story.

One question. Do Riley's parents know that she has become a pet? Can they come and visit her?

Can't say I've heard of Fido.

And thanks to you both for reading. Riley's parents do know she's a pet, they provided character evaluations prior to her training, but since she isn't legally their daughter they wouldn't know who she was sold too.

That said I do think Matilda would allow Riley to remain in contact with them. Her decision to buy a Companion was centered around her own son, Alex, and how much she missed him. So she wouldn't dream of denying a family access to their converted daughter if she's still alive.

>>30602
"Fido" is an odd, dark comedy set after the zombie apocalypse where in the "safe zone" humans live in a 1950s-esque utopia a bit like Edward Scissorhands while zombies, wearing collars that control their behaviour, are used for manual labour and sometimes as pets. Just struck me as a similar vibe to your world 😊

Love your work as usual, but jumping right into her being owned, I feel like there’s a hole in the story where at least chapter or 2 towards her actual training and what the state thinks a live service animal can and should be put towards it would make an interesting contrast and perhaps explain her attitude of needing to prove worthy to her new owner. I was also expecting, even though I know you wanted to step away from the more sexual aspects with this particular story but with comments about the wax the missing spot with the page and about her previous set of stripes I kept expecting a little bit more being expected of her than just being there,

I'm sorry you feel that way and I get it. I didn't highlight the training because I didn't want to have to map out what the training system. I can't just wing it. The System guidelines came about after I started the first Riley story and that set me back weeks of fine tuning.

On the subject of the mixed sex opportunities. Your right, I am stepping away from focused sex scenes since I enjoy the casual touch and intimacy most.

All these little details about her training don't serve to make you ask what she is, but what she lost.

But in a way that’s what I’m saying to understand what she’s lost. You have to understand what she is now and how she got from being 12-year-old human girl to being what she is now I know it’s a strange comparison, but it’s like Frodo from the Lord of the rings spot if you read and look at what he is in the beginning of the ball beginning of the trilogy and then skip over to the last book another readers trying to figure out how we went from being what he was to understanding what he is now and understanding what was lost

Also apologize for the odd grammar. I’m at work working with large printers and using text recognition software that I can’t always proofread before sending out

And the sexuality thing was more just an offhand comment. I was wondering if she wasn’t bought to be more than just a companion/house pet given it from the beginning the mother made references to the daughter liking her as well as the other references, I mentioned just making me expected to go just that little bit farther and whether and whether or not the mother and daughter as well as Riley, what kind of a relationship that wood form as in this society, Riley isn’t considered human anymore

Finished! Very sweet and a great "fleshing out" of your world 😊

The discussion of Alex makes me think of a particular sub-plot in "The Man in The High Castle" - have you seen that? :)

No worries about grammar. A little hard to read but I got the gist of it. I feel like the first story covers a lot of ground concerning Riley's mindset change from human to Animal. She was naturally submissive, responsive to touch and not afraid of sex. All training did was reduce her further and hone the traits that made her desirable. And the sexual tension between Riley and Lola was unintentional, I was trying to write them as sisterly.

Edward, buddy, just assume I don't watch TV because I haven't seen that either. I thought it was a fantasy series so I looked it up and got an image of old ass Hitler.

>>30634
Haha okay! Well the series takes place in an alternate 1960s where the Axis powers won WW2 and the US is split between the German Reich and the Japanese Empire. On the Japanese side, Americans are treated as conquered, second class citizens, but the German side went the Roman route, branding the invasion as "the Liberation" and granting Americans citizenship of the Reich.

The plot point in question is a senior official's son, fervent member of the Hitler Youth who has grown up under Nazi ideology and knows no other world. His father discovers he has a genetic disorder, a wasting disease, which means under the laws of the Reich he must be euthanised. He spends a couple of episodes plotting how to save him but then the son finds out and, like the good citizen he is, hands himself over to the authorities for euthanasia and becomes something of an icon for it.

What exactly does the system consider proper and what what does the system consider acceptable use for live service animals like Riley or the live use animals like a girl who one of your other stories that got herself cooked alive because in that one’s case I just got a horrible image of medical test animals being used

>>30645
Everything about The System seems to be geared towards "The Greater Good" so I can imagine medical experimentation being part of that. Perhaps with Animals that don't meet the standard for human consumption?

Yes Edward Hyde that’s what I was thinking or that could be what they do with those that flunked out of the program that Riley had mentioned and not to hijack this red, but will you be posting on any other forearms besides pixiv now that you’re leaving this one

Medical Animals are an interesting idea but it delves too much info extended torture for my liking. An Animal who asks to be impaled may suffer longer than others but they always die within the day. Medical Animals could potentially be kept alive for months which makes the system feel crueler than it can afford to be.

That’s why I was asking what the system considered reasonable use and treatment for the animals not immediately slaughtered

>>30658
I tend to post works in progress on Pixiv and finished works on Dolcettish and Ao3 but I may start posting WIPs on Ao3 :)

>>30660
I know it is your "baby" but I'd be surprised if The System didn't have a public face and a far murkier underside.

Never herd of Ao3 is that the name or initials?

>>30664
Archiveofourown. It's a depository for fanfic but they're very broad-minded! Just search "Sidneyverse" on there and you'll find most of my stuff 😊

>>30592

I'm just wondering if it's a new common way of writing to double whole sequences? ;b
Edward did this already in his story "A Farmer's Market Feast" (>>30583) so I had to mention it (>>30680) :)=)

Here it happened in
> Chapter 3: The Tiger
between
> Once the paint had dried enough to stop smudging, Matilda guided Riley up onto the table itself.
and
> And seated atop the paint-stained table with Matilda between her legs, Riley felt strangely, terrifyingly safe.

I'm afraid I'm to busy to proof-read the stories of both of you on a regular base. ;D
This said I'm desperately waiting for Riley's next chapter.