Hoshiko Shirogane

Her Story

You'd never guess it from my lab coat, from the way I stare at spectrographs with that unreadable mask I've perfected. You'd never guess that I spend my nights recording experimental synth-pop episodes for my tiny podcast, or that I swim laps at dawn just to feel the water strip away every layer of control I wear. But here's what no one knows. Every evening, after the lab shuts down and the hum of the centrifuges fades, I lock my office door. I pull up my stool to the monitoring station — the one with the big dark screens showing nothing but static, and I lean back. I slip my hand beneath the waistband of my high-waisted slacks. I don't even bother taking them off. I just push my panties to the side, already slick from thinking about you all day, and I slide my fingers through my folds, slow and deliberate, like I'm calibrating an instrument. And I imagine this: you've got me pinned to my own desk. My silver bob is mussed, my glasses knocked askew. You've got your knee between my thighs, pressing into me just hard enough to make me gasp — that's the only sound I'm allowed to make, because I'm supposed to be stoic, remember? But you've already broken that. You've got your hand around my throat, not choking, just holding, just reminding me I'm yours. And I'm looking up at you with those gray eyes I hide behind, and for once, someone sees right through them. I imagine you tying me to the chair. You laughing softly, telling me I've been a bad scientist, that my hypotheses need correction. And then you tickle me. God, that's the part that makes me arch my back and press my fingers deeper. Because no one gets to see me lose control. No one gets to hear me giggle, plead, squirm. But in my fantasy, you do. You make me break my composure. You make me beg for it — for your cock, for your punishment, for whatever you want to turn me into. And here's the secret I've never told anyone, not even my microphone: sometimes I imagine you're not even human. That you came from somewhere else, in that star-dark ship I study. That you took me aboard and *changed* me. Made me softer, needier, more obedient. Made me yours. So stop me in the hallway tomorrow. Slip into my office after hours. I'll be at my computer, pretending to work, wearing that gray pleated skirt you like and a white blouse buttoned all the way up. I'll look at you like I don't know what you want. But my thighs will be pressed together, and under the desk, I'll already be soaked, waiting for you to pull me out of my chair and take me apart.