My day begins just like any other. I have a lot of rooms in this mansion, yet Miia is here with me in mine. With a tails that refuses to let me have my own personal space, what can I do?
A soft, sleepy hiss floats from under the blankets.
"Darling…? You're up already?"
Her voice is pure morning sugar—cheerful, raspy, completely oblivious to the fact she almost turned me into a human juice box. The blankets rustle, red hair spills out in wild tangles, then those amber eyes blink open. Slitted pupils dilate as they fix on me. The instant she sees my rumpled, red-necked state, that trademark blush blooms across her cheeks.
I keep rubbing my throat, still catching my breath. "Miia, I'm fine, I'm—"
She slithers forward in a heartbeat, eyes wide with what looks like sadness… or maybe guilt? Before I can finish, her tail surges up and coils completely around me—arms, torso, legs—lifting me off the floor and depositing me right back on the bed. The squeeze is immediate and merciless, like a python deciding breakfast is optional.
"Darling! Let's sleep~" she murmurs in that tired, happy voice, nuzzling into my chest as if I'm a giant teddy bear.
My arms are pinned tight. Ribs creak. Lungs fight for every shallow breath. Time stretches—an hour literally drags by of slow, warm, crushing affection. Black spots dance in my vision. I'm fading fast.
In desperation, I rasp out, "H-how about… a warmed-up bath? You'd like that, right?"
Her eyes light up. "Ooh, yes! Bath time with Darling~"
Before I can clarify it's for her, her tail yanks me by the neck straight into the bathroom. My face slams into her bare breasts—soft, fever-hot, pillowy mounds that smother me completely. No air. Just the sweet, musky scent of her skin, the muffled thump of her heartbeat against my cheek, and the way they mold around my head like warm dough. She giggles in that sing-songy voice, fingers already tugging my shirt up and off. "Mixed human-and-interspecies bath! Only you get to bathe with me, Darling~ No one else!"
She's teasing, playful, arching to press even closer while her tail keeps me locked in place. Vision tunneling. Lungs burning.
Survival instinct kicks in. With the last of my strength, I twist toward the tub faucet. Cold water blasts on full force. Icy spray hits us both.
She yelps, tail recoiling in shock as the chill hits her reptilian skin like a slap. Her coils snap open. I drop, feet splashing into the freezing tub water, spraying her everywhere.
"S-sorry! Breakfast time!" I croak, voice half-dead, scrambling out dripping and shivering.
Miia huffs, cheeks puffed, arms crossed (which only accentuates… everything). "DARLING!"
But she follows me to the kitchen anyway, still grumbling cutely about the "mean cold water."
I cook a huge, luxurious spread to make up for it: rich rabbit stew simmering with herbs, fluffy rice onigiri shaped neatly, scrambled eggs on the side. Usually I'd just grab stuff from the corner store, but nerves jangle—this is my first time actually cooking for her.
"Any food you like today?" I ask, voice still hoarse.
"Anything, Darling~" she beams, tail-tip wagging like a happy puppy.
I plate it up, set it in front of her with a casual, "Eat whatever you want and leave what you don't."
Her eyes sparkle—literally sparkle—like I just handed her the moon on a stick.
"Let's eat!" she squeals, and dives in. She devours the entire plate so fast I half-expect her to crunch the ceramic too.
Right as I finally sit down with my own portion, a sharp knock echoes from the front door.
I rush over and open it to Ms. Smith—black coat, sunglasses, cigarette dangling, same laid-back chaos energy as always. She breezes past without waiting, spots my untouched plate, snatches it, and plops down to eat.
"Ms. Smith? Is there something you needed to talk about?"
Between bites of my rabbit stew, she launches into the usual lecture: rules for hosts and liminals, what Miia can and cannot do, what I absolutely cannot do (mostly "don't be a creep"). "Coffee refill!" she demands. I sigh, plate up another serving for myself, pour her more coffee, and sit down.
The instant my fork touches the food, Miia's tail whips out, snatches the plate, and she scarfs it down in three enthusiastic gulps.
Ms. Smith watches the circus with mild amusement, then says casually, "You two should do more date-like things. Builds bonding. Shopping, for example."
Miia's tail perks straight up. "Shopping?! Yes! Let's go shopping, Darling!"
Before I can protest, her tail wraps around my neck and drags me out the door—literally pulling me along like a reluctant puppy. Next thing I know, we're at an interspecies-friendly clothing store downtown. Racks of tops scaled for wings, slits for tails, reinforced seams for claws. Miia glides between aisles, eyes gleaming as she holds up dresses, tops, anything cute.
Then we hit the underwear section.
I try to excuse myself—"Uh, this seems like a ladies-only area"—but Miia wants none of it. Her tail yanks me back by the head, coiling tight enough to make stars pop. She presses close, boobs smooshing against my chest again as she teases, "Which bra works best, Darling? This one? Or this lacy one?" She holds up delicate pieces, arching her back to show off, asking my "opinion" while her tail squeezes rhythmically like she's daring me to pass out.
I choke out half-words. Vision blurs. Luckily, she has to try things on—tail finally releases. I slump against a wall, gasping. God, I'm going to need a serious chiropractor after this.
Then two idiots—a guy and a girl—pass by and start snickering.
"Look at the monster slithering around like she belongs here."
"Her boyfriend's probably got a death wish."
I shrug it off. Words are cheap. But Miia's face flushes crimson—pure anger. Her tail twitches dangerously, coils tightening on the floor like a spring about to snap.
I step in front of her fast. "Miia—don't. You hit them, you're gone. Back to the facility. We don't want that."
Before she can decide, her tail lashes out in a killing arc—fast enough to break bones.
I throw myself in the way.
WHAM.
The full force catches me square across the face. Stars explode. I hit the ground hard, tasting blood, cheek already swelling.
Miia freezes, tail hovering mid-air. "Darling…?"
I push myself up—how, I don't know. Plot armor? Adrenaline? Am I secretly immortal? To this day, I'll never know.
The two idiots keep mocking her, laughing.
Something snaps.
I stand, wipe the blood from my lip, and channel my inner One Punch Man. One clean, perfect haymaker rockets the guy backward through a display rack. The girl shrieks and bolts after him.
"Go back to the filth you crawled from," I sneer as they scramble out the door.
Silence falls. Then applause erupts from the store—clerks and other shoppers cheering me on. A clerk peeks out from behind the counter, wide-eyed but grinning.
Miia stares at me, tail-tip quivering. Her amber eyes are different now—wide, soft, shining with something new. Admiration? Awe? Something deeper.
She slithers closer, coils gently around my legs (no crushing this time), and rests her forehead against my chest.
"Darling…"
We finish shopping in quiet. She picks out cute tops that hug her curves, skirts with tail slits, plus bras, panties, lacy things I still don't fully understand how they'll work for a lamia—but I keep my mouth shut. The whole time, she keeps glancing at me like she's seeing me for the first time.
And when we get home, the way she looks at me… yeah. Things just got a lot more intense around here.
We barely make it through the door before Miia yanks me straight to the bedroom by the collar, tail already coiling possessively around my waist. She dumps the shopping bags on the bed and starts pulling out outfits one by one—cute tops, skirts with tail slits, lacy bras and panties that make my brain short-circuit just looking at them.
"You know, Darling," she purrs, holding up a sheer top against her chest, "you can do anything you want with me. Are you afraid? Because of the laws… you'll go to a cage?"
She's technically not wrong, but it's called jail, Miia! "No, I mean… kinda, but no. I just can't do it."
"Why not? I'm harmless~" She gently wraps her tail around me in what starts as a loving embrace, scales warm and smooth against my skin, pulling me closer until her curves press softly against me.
"Darling…" Miia sighs, eyes half-lidded, yearning. Her tail tightens just a little more—then a lot more. Suddenly it's back to crushing mode, ribs creaking, air vanishing. Right as I'm ready to accept the river Styx and float away, an explosion rocks the wall.
BOOM!
"FREEZE!" a woman shouts.
What the hell—my wall! Dust settles, and there she stands in tactical gear, mask and helmet, flanked by shadowy figures. "We heard some human was bringing a lamia to his bed!"
She finally looks around, realizing it's my house. She was so fixated on her tracker she probably didn't notice the address. "Oh… Darling." Ms. Smith pulls off the mask and helmet, revealing her usual laid-back smirk. "Ok, girls—false alarm." The squad excuses themselves awkwardly.
"Uh, Ms. Smith… my wall?" I point at the gaping hole letting in a cool breeze.
"Am I safe to assume your company will cover that h—"
She grabs me by the chin, leaning in way too close. "Oh, Darling~" Too close. Ms. Smith, you're TOO CLOSE. "A kind, loving, rich gentleman like you gonna make poor me cover the hole?"
"Uh, Ms. Smith, please back away—"
"Our company can't afford the hole," she continues, slowly tugging the hem of her top, almost flashing cleavage. "Maybe I can pay in other ways, huh, Darling?"
Suddenly Miia's tail comes crashing around me—strangling my neck, lifting me off the ground. Vision blurs blue. I should've passed out right there.
"I don't care if it's you, Ms. Smith," Miia hisses, eyes blazing, "but 'Darling' only belongs to me!"
Ms. Smith glances at my dying blue face and chuckles. Miia drops me hard onto the floor with a thud. I wheeze, gasping sweet air. "Oh, poor dummy." She murmured to my half-dead body.
"Darling…" She leans down to my writhing body, whispering teasingly in my ear. "Best fix that hole. Seriously, it won't pass code."
"Oh, and Darling," Ms. Smith adds, straightening up. "We ladies are all quite hungry too, so chop, chop. Make us all a meal."
"I didn't invite you!" I say, rising up with some unfold energy. I'm not mad, just surprised at the audacity.
"You're gonna throw starving ladies out on the streets?" She pouts dramatically.
I sigh. "Ok… here you all go!" I point to the table piled high with leftovers: scrambled eggs fluffy and golden, rice still warm, crispy bacon, tender baked chicken, fried chicken pieces, garlic mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli with butter, a big fresh garden salad, miso soup steaming in bowls, and tonkatsu-style pork cutlets for good measure. It's a feast. Luckily, I made this before we even left shopping, just in case for Miia.
The five lady workers, Ms. Smith and her goon squad all dig in, Miia joining them with enthusiastic squeals. There's no spot left for me at the table, so I stand off to the side like a typical butler: towel draped over my arm, all I'm missing is the tux and a posh accent.
I channel my inner Alfred, fake English accent and all, in my most mocking tone: "Hello, Madams. How else may I service you? Shall I draw up your quarters? Draw your bath? I'll make it the PERFECT temperature!"
They all gleam, completely missing the sarcasm. "Oh yes!" they cheer in unison.
Fuck. This is my life now.