Tritium's Bedroom (Posts about storm)

Disconnected, Part 3 (Scarlet Part 3, Payton's Storm Part 4)

Tritium — Tue, 01 Mar 2016 21:48:01 GMT

Brae sat at her desk, wrapped in a blanket, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from her lips. She stared at a progress bar on her computer between responding to messages in a chat window.

“Are you trying to break up with me?” Brae typed. She was a very fast typist, even if that was a dying skill.

She ashed her cigarette, and lit another. The whir of machines working filled her bedroom with pseudo-industrial dissonance. Two machines dutifully worked away, shooting precise dots of resin and silicon as they built… whatever it was they were building.

The message window beeped. “No, of course not.” Scarlet responded.

Payton's Storm, Part 3

Tritium — Fri, 26 Feb 2016 21:58:46 GMT

“Are you seriously trying to get in the shower with me?” Payton said. She was holding a towel over herself to offer herself a little modesty in the up-stairs hallway. Storm was showing no such modesty. Thankfully, for Payton’s sake, her parents were already at work before she got up for school.

“Of course, Master.” Storm said. Her head was tilted, and showed a little smirk.

Payton's Storm, Part 2

Tritium — Thu, 25 Feb 2016 21:52:43 GMT

Payton picked a slip foam packing sheet from her labia with a disgusted cringe. The bed was an absolute mess with the sundry crap from Storm’s shipping crate, and Payton was in the middle of it.

“Master, if you…” Storm tried to get Payton’s attention but failed.

“There you are!” Payton exclaimed while untangling a cable. “US charging cable.” She set it aside.

Payton's Storm, Part 1

Tritium — Sun, 21 Feb 2016 21:44:58 GMT

Payton climbed off the bus, holding her backpack over one shoulder. Her short, buzzed, hair and baggy clothing disguised her gender well enough that the teachers at school often chastised her about using the wrong rest room. She hefted her bag higher on her back and walked the rest of the way home from the bus stop.

“You’re not getting a car, Payton. Cars are dangerous, Payton.” She muttered to herself, mocking her parents. The fifteen year old girl huffed, and tried to put her annoyance out of her mind. She was turning sixteen tomorrow, and her parents promised her something just as special. “It’d better be special” she thought. They had her do all kinds of personality tests, and answer hundreds of questions on her tablet. The questions were mostly boring, but some of them were about her sex life and sexual preferences. Those questions made her feel weird.