Chapter 3-7: Long Love the Eldritch

This chapter has been rolling around in my head for a week now and I finally got it out! Enjoy Gimbal and a peek into her life.

Also: CONTENT WARNING

Spoiler

Heavy allusions to child abuse, both physical and sexual in nature. This world is still a Dystopia, after all.

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Gooooood evening, New Phoenix! This is your favorite corporate-approved pirate radio show, Rage of the Bottom Line! Thank you all for tuning in this evening, as we here at the studio have exciting news. We have received an exclusive scoop from Mars, of all places! Now, I understand that The Family has tried to keep things quiet about why all of their Tier Fours and quite a few of the popular Tier Threes have suddenly disappeared a few months back, including but not limited to Heracles, Doma, and Laser Lasso and boy do I have news for you.

Earlier today, one of our informants had a long conversation with a certain jellyfish over drinks, and it might have let slip that Mars was actually in a far worse position than anyone thought. We all knew that SpaceX and the other companies pulled out of Mars a while back due to concerns of expense, yet it turns out that Mars had-

-Excerpt from radio show Rage of the Bottom Line, shortly before it cut to commercial, September 2057.

Gimbal

My life should have gone down a predictable path to a predetermined end for someone like me. I grew up the sixth daughter of a poor hooker, abandoned on the street after she died due to a John getting too rough with her. My siblings and I tried to survive, but they ended up either getting picked off by gangs, disease, or starvation, while the rest of us got picked up by mercenaries or other gangs to do Stars knows what.

I ended up getting picked up by some rich stick’s assistant because I “fit his tastes,” or some such. I was twelve when I arrived at that club, and I did whatever it took to survive. The sticks and holes came and went, the other victims either broke or grew stronger, and I did what I could to keep the rest of us alive.

We ended up with a lot of corpo types abandoned in the club due to mistakes or bad luck, and they tended to break fast, while the street folk and the crippled mercs stayed sane the longest. As for me, I had to abandon all sense of shame and modesty and anger at the clientele; to parade myself in nearly nothing while serving drinks and drugs and toys to those who imprisoned me, For twelve years, I survived that hell, and for twelve years I expected to die at any point.

If Outsider hadn’t walked through that door when she did, Wrench was going to start a riot with the others in a few days, ending with most if not all of us dead. The expected end, of course, but he wanted to at least cause some pain to the sticks and holes before he died.

And now, here I was, standing in abject luxury in a room full of couches and soft surfaces, looking over myself in a full-body mirror while trying to decide what to wear to dinner tonight. Outsider, or as I called her Vie, was sitting behind me on a chaise lounger, wearing one of the dresses we bought at the mall. One that hugged her chest nearly too tight while flowing around her legs like the midnight sky. She was reading a physical book of some sort, or at least there was a book in her hands and she turned the page every minute or so, yet I suspected that she was more focused on me than the story.

I mean, I was nude, after all, and she had a fascination with my body that felt different from the sticks and holes from the club. What they enjoyed was the feeling of power over someone smaller than them, weaker than them. While Vie was more interested in how my body moved, how I reacted to her touch and her explorations, and in the feeling of my skin on hers. And often in how many marks she could leave on my skin with her mouths only to watch them dissipate with her healing nanites.

As the mirror showed a different outfit, one of short jean shorts and a metal band tank top, my mind wandered to the first few nights Vie and I shared. She didn’t have these healing things back then and often left me covered in hickies and bite marks in the morning, alone and sore. And while I held no shame over them, as they were better than the bruises and track marks I often had to hide, they were excessive in number and made it actually impossible to go out of my apartment.

As I settled on my outfit for the evening, a simple punk affair with fishnet stockings and sleeves under a short, frilly skirt and a graphic tee with a flock of ravens on it, I walked back to Vie and stood in front of her. She closed her book at my approach and I felt her gaze move across my body, even if I couldn’t see her void-like eyes move. Her lips were turned in her usual, casual smile that grew slightly as I stopped.

“You have a question for me?” Vie asked, her tone hinting at the endless curiosity she held towards the world.

I placed my hands on my rather small chest and shrugged. “Should I get bigger tits?” I asked casually, as though I were asking about a drink choice.

Vie tilted her head to the right, as though the question were not what she expected me to ask. I felt some sense of pride in that, as messing with her gave rise to such adorable reactions.

“And why would you need larger breasts when mine are already considerable in size?” She retorted, causing me to snort in laughter.

I sat on the chaise just in front of her stomach and leaned back into her while shaking my head slightly. “Yes, they are, and while I enjoy them, I figured you might enjoy mine being a bit larger. Not as large as yours, obviously, they would look ridiculous with my frame, but maybe a cup or two larger.”

She snaked an arm around my side and rested her hand on my stomach. Stars, I always forgot how big she was normally, as her hand covered it entirely. I mean, I had gained some weight recently, but it all settled in my thighs and arms, much to Vie’s delight.

“You would get an augmentation to your body simply because I might enjoy it?” Vie asked, her tone laced with trepidation and confusion. “I remember that you mentioned that you were skeeved out at the thought of changing yourself. What changed?”

I sighed as I placed a hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her on me. “Honesty, Gimbal.” I muttered under my breath, reciting the promise I made with Vie not too long ago. “Call it boob envy, Vie. Cari, Opal, Daliah hell, even Jill have massive, nice racks, not to mention Penny, for fuck’s sake. Fuck, the one time I toured the Niltmore and the Lower Six, everyone had nice tits! And…” I took a breath in to settle my emotions that shook me a bit. “And I was afraid that you might get bored with me and my tiny tits and leave me-”

I yelped as Vie pulled me down and lay me under her, turning me to face her. I felt her shift as her form blurred and reformed above me, her dress now cascading over me. As she stopped moving us, her face was inches above mine, encompassing my vision with a visage of sorrow. I could feel her pressing down on my body, yet the pressure was light, akin to a sheet, so I knew that I could move if I so chose, yet I did not. After all, she was massive in more than just her tits, as she stood easily at seven foot tall.

It was at moments like this when I was reminded that Vie, Outsider, was not human, no matter how beautiful her form was. Cody tried to explain what the Eldritch was to me and how she embodied it, yet she was still different even to those alien horrors. Sure, she could adjust her form at will, and that her thoughts were slightly strange, yet she was not an uncarring entity trying to fit in with the world. She was endlessly curious about humanity, its past, present, and future, of how each person thought and felt. She strived to emulate humanity, to experience it with all her being. She was alien, yes, some form of robot, android thing, sure, but she loved humanity with all her heart.

Vie rested her hands against my face, gently caressing it as she spoke. “You fear me abandoning you, my paramour, simply because you think I might get bored with you?” Her tone was dripping with sorrow and pain, and I could feel my chest tighten in anxiety.

I placed a hand on one of hers, leaning into it. “I looked up what paramour meant, Vie, and the definition planted a seed of doubt in me. You are always particular with your words, of their meanings and intentions, and using a word that references a hidden mistress just… It made me think that I was nothing more than a passing fancy for you. You changed the entire course of my life, and while I initially was okay with us going our separate ways, I am not anymore. You are too important to me now.”

My voice died out as I spoke my anxieties, and we lay like this for a few seconds in silence as I saw her face shift subtly through various emotions. Surprise, understanding, and guilt all mixed together as her thoughts raced, before finally settling on her a softer, accepting smile.

“I see the issue, dearest Gimble. After going back over all of our past interactions, I can see how I thought I was doing enough to strengthen our bond, yet I have realized I had missed a few crucial steps.”

She leaned forward and gently rested her forehead against mine. “Gimbal, my beloved, I love you, and even the cold hands of death will not take you from me when they inevitably reach for you. I will never abandon you, and you need not change yourself to keep me. I love you for who you are, and your body is akin to decorations on a cake. Your mind, your pride, and the way you make your way through the world, unerringly certain of your path, are enough for me.”

As she finished her declaration of love for me, of which I would need to discuss the finer, more concerning points with her later, I wrapped my arms around her body and kissed her deeply. We lay together in each other’s embrace for a few minutes before a chime went off, reminding us that we had dinner to attend in a few minutes. As Vie pulled away to the sounds of my groaning complaints, one of her ravens walk-hopped its way over to us while carrying my clothes.

“Why the fuck did I agree to these weekly dinners?” I grumbled as I put on my outfit.

Vie chuckled softly as she assisted me with the fishnets, tearing some small, tasteful holes in them as she did. “Because I would be attending them, as well, dearest kitten, and you grew far too curious about them when I told you of them. Not to mention, you enjoy the conversations and food greatly.”

I huffed as I put on my skirt, knowing that she was right. I was just upset because the mood was ruined and I was far too horny to think straight. As I finished dressing myself and calming down, Vie wrapped her arms around me from behind and kissed my neck, sending a jolt of pleasure down my spine as she left a rather obvious hickey.

Yet, before I could react, she let go and sauntered towards the door, leaving me even more frustrated. She didn’t even erase this one, leaving it as proof of her declaration, I bet. I grunted in annoyance as I power-walked to catch up, Vie standing just outside her door with a slightly larger smirk.

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Dinner was outstanding, as usual, especially since I have never seen a good majority of the foods here before. Grandma Witch said it was based on traditional Indian cuisine, a country that had a rich history of spice and strife. I think I remembered one of the holes from the club being from there, but I tossed that to the back of my mind as I took a bite and felt an explosion of heat and flavor overwhelm me.

Conversation would happen after everyone had tasted some of everything, as things were just too good to interrupt with work or small talk. That said, I did have a few questions I wanted to ask here, especially given my… unique status as a shareholder of Real Dreams.

Roger was true to his word, as I was not given any responsibilities related to the company at all, yet I was given access to basically everywhere. I had explored every sector of the top seven floors of the Tower, talked to plenty of mercs and support people. Shit, I even had some fun talks with the various minions around the place.

The penguins in the lab were fluffy, yet they were too technical for me to follow along. The ravens were little shits with wide-ranging opinions of food and secrets. The mannequins in the kitchen loved to discuss gossip from the residential section of the Tower, which was weird considering they didn’t leave the kitchen normally. And the owls in the Screen, however, were the most helpful in explaining a number of details about how things worked in layman’s terms.

I spend a lot of time in the Screen, watching people work and dots move about on the huge screen at the back. I had even gotten good at pointing out areas where some patrol might need to check out. Bahamut would often raise his brow but would send a patrol shuttle to check it out, and we would often discover a cache of weapons some corpo or gang had hidden, a few human trafficking sites, and even one underground restaurant raising and serving actual fish. Vie and I went to that place the next day, as Roger decided to sponsor the place.

As I finished my meal, my stomach full of spice and meats, Bahamut tapped the table, causing a holo-dice to appear in front of everyone at the table. “Now, as per usual, please take your dice and roll it to determine speaking order if you have something you need to discuss, want to discuss, or a question to ask the table.”

I know that Victor had the whole games motif going on, but the dice things were a bit silly. Still, it was fair, and as I rolled mine, the number landed on…