Symbiotic Submission

Issue 6: After

Haven wrapped their body around me as I checked in, clinging to me like a wetsuit so that my diaper couldn't be detected. An odd gesture, considering how much they typically relished the opportunity to humiliate me. Perhaps they were worried we'd draw too much attention, given that we were trying to keep a low profile.

Or, perhaps, they were trying to be kind.

Whichever answer was correct, I appreciated an opportunity to interact with someone who didn't notice or remark on my undignified underwear. I got checked in quickly, took the elevator up to my room, and made sure to throw the deadbolt lock once I got in. A room key was needed to even access the elevator, but I wasn't taking chances about someone sneaking up to my room for round three.

Once safe–or at least relatively safe–I relaxed, flopping onto the bed. "You'll make sure I don't rash tonight, right?" I asked. "Because I'm not going outside again until I've had a chance to sleep."

Haven paused, and for a moment, I thought the threat of a rash might have just been reintroduced to the table by my careless comment. Instead, they thought, (Go turn on the shower.)

(What now?) I thought back. Some kind of temperature torture, with cold and hot water? Or were they simply going to flood my diaper until it weighed as much as a medicine ball? Whatever they wanted to do to me, I'd begrudgingly put up with it–shuffling to the bathroom, I turned on the water, checking the temperature with my hand until it got just right.

(You're in a state of plummeting hormones,) Haven said. (Adrenaline and cortisol were pumped into your system at prodigious rates earlier, but now they've dropped off almost completely. You need care to avoid a mental crash.)

I frowned. "Okay. Sure, you don't want my brain chemicals to get spoiled, that would taste bad."

They didn't correct me, but they didn't confirm my theory either.

Slipping up my body, Haven's goopy form slid around the front of my diaper, popping the tapes off one at a time. The abused absorbent garment was thrown into the bathroom's tiny plastic trash can, overwhelming it, but neither I nor Haven really cared.

(Get into the shower.)

I obeyed, still half expecting a trap, but my suspicions were melted away by indulgence as I felt the warm water course over me.

I'd had showers since Haven overtook me, of course; I had to get cleaned up occasionally. The relief of washing away layers of sticky salt-sweat and sex and other fluids was always a palpable relief, but this was something more, something that penetrated my muscles and unclenched tight spots I hadn't been aware of until the tension was relieved.

I exhaled in sheer relief as the water cleansed my body from the top down, rinsing everything away, brown water slowly turning clear until I'd been completely rinsed.

(Breathe,) Haven instructed. (Center yourself. You are here. You are safe.)

(You're acting weird,) I replied, thinking my response so that water wouldn't splash in my mouth.

(You require particular care, I'm providing it. Take as long as you need.)

(As long as I 'need'? I'm pretty much clean, so... What does that mean?)

(Take as long as you desire...Mine.)

The use of the label they'd created for me felt tentative, slightly probing. Testing my reaction to its use, as though they cared what I thought of it.

I didn't speak any response, didn't think one, I just let the moment dangle between us, indulging in my shower.

Since it wasn't mine anyways and I didn't really care about a bit of waste, I used slick handfuls of the hotel shampoo and bodywash, lathering my body up to indulgent levels. When I finally felt clean, truly clean, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. The mirror had fogged up so completely that it was completely nonreflective, but I wiped a smudge, looking at myself.

I looked tired, and drained, but I still looked like me. Charlie hadn't gone anywhere, in spite of the past week and a half.

(Go lay down,) Haven instructed.

"Why?"

(Please?)

I was so caught off guard by the request that I didn't even think to disobey–I walked out of the bathroom and to the hotel's luxurious–as luxurious as a cheap economy hotel could get me–twin bed.

A slight silence in my thoughts caught my attention–an absence, like when you notice that you can't hear the air running. A space had just emptied.

Glancing up, I saw Haven across the room, moving like a ferrofluid drawn by a magnet as they searched through my bag. They'd...left my head. I didn't have them attached to me, at least for a brief moment.

It occurred to me that I could try to run. Sure, I was naked, but I was also free of the parasite that lived in my head, and I didn't know if they could move across the room fast enough to chase me. I could get out, go...somewhere, call a friend, get a ride back home. Haven would have to find a new host.

Instead, I stayed on the bed, watching curiously as they returned, towing along a fresh diaper and a tube of baby powder.

When they touched my skin, slithering up my leg, the space in my head was filled again. Their presence had reached my mind.

(Just relax,) they told me. (You have nothing you need to do tonight. All I require of you is that you care for yourself.)

The diaper unfolded, and a puff of cool, dry powder sprinkled across my thighs. I didn't even have to sit up or move my hips, Haven slid the puffy garment into place, adjusting the fit so it'd be snug and secure without chafing. The level of care on display surprised me–Haven had gone out of their way not just to ensure my physical wellbeing, but my comfort.

(Mine,) Haven thought.

I didn't question their meaning, it was too late for that, and I was too tired.

I needed sleep, and with Haven watching over me, I slept.