Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

So weird, coming to terms with shit in this reality that ought to make sense but doesn’t, or shouldn’t make sense but does.

Like, boiling a person down into numbers. I get that back at Eastside that happened. Way more than it should have, really. Between standardized tests, unrealistic beauty standards, and people just not accepting that the universe doesn’t give a shit about our need for numbers to be neat and tidy, everybody out there got numbers slapped on them. Quartiles. GPA. BMI. Dress size. Bust-Waist-Hips. Gross. Take home. Net worth. Credit Score. I mean, shit, some of that at least had some connection to reality, although people put way too much weight on that shit, not to mention applying it to shit that doesn’t connect. Like, okay, I get it, hip to waist ratio correlates to fertility. But tit size sure as fuck doesn’t, and I’ve seen girls with less boob flesh than the guys in the class plump up to D cups when the preggo hormones hit. Kinda makes me wonder what Bonnie’s boob size is now.

But that last one? Credit score? What the fuck even is that? Like, oh, look, a random number that says whether you can get a house or car! Where does it come from? Nobody fuckin’ knows, although for some strange reason Black people have lower ones.

Yeah, if some asshole decides to import Credit Scores to here and now, I’mma kill him and not feel at all guilty when I pop off while doing so. If they import that shit and Bag wind up getting lower scores, not ’because they’re Bag’, but because they live in ’economically challenged areas’ where Bag have been dumped for centuries? I’m not gonna kill ’em. I’m gonna let Larry kill ’em, just to make sure they’re gone for good.

So yeah, plenty of numbers that got misused back there, and some that weren’t even connected to anything real, but here? Apparently my Kitten thinks that not only can you break someone down into handy dandy categories, those numbers will actually mean something and be based on real world data. Don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely cheering for her, because ’more sense making in the world’ sounds good to me. It also sounds like something that would lead to more antics, since anyone with any sense is going to want antics instead of, I dunno, Undead. But then I think about what I remember from looking at Status. Like, ’Strength’. What the fuck does that even mean? Tensile strength? Lifting power? Body Odor? If it’s something like lifting power, does it take body mass into account? Like, is a Jotnar with a one Strength just massively stronger than a Human with one Strength, or are they paralyzed because they can’t even fucking lift themselves? I think I remember something about ’one’ being average for the species, but what the fuck does that even mean for something like a Jotnar, where Loki is a Jotnar at twenty feet tall, and fuckin’ Olaf was a hundred and twenty, easy?

If what your wife says about Franklin’s Inspect is correct, the baseline calibration... wasn’t.

Okay, great, so it’s even more fucked up. Thanks, Boss. You’re the best, really.

I know, Daughter.

So yeah, I’ve got no idea what any of the shit on there means, and my Wife is the one supposed to be making it happen, and I’m the one who not only told her she can do it, I’m the fuckin’ Goddess who told her she has to do it or die trying. Which, shit, I’ll bet on my Kitten two falls out of three any day of the week. But in a situation this fucked up, what does success even look like?

As much as I joke about my stupid high Endurance, and as much as those jokes aren’t so much jokes as ways to explain the most bullshitty of my bullshit away to people who actually see me do dumb shit like using a two inch through and through for some really novel kink exploration, or letting Murder Mittens widen that hole to three inches in order to give the Advanced Healing class a chance to fix it properly, I still don’t know exactly what double digit Endurance means. Worse than that, I’m really wondering if there are limits, and if so, what happens when I go past them. I’m honestly not sure whether limits would make me feel more or less... human.

I mean, sure, I jokingly started using the term ’human adjacent’ to refer to everything that might get lumped in with ’Race’ back in the world of Eastside. But here even that gets fucked up. According to, like, racist prejudice, even internalized shit, Marie is a ’Bag’. But according to Menace’s Inspect screen, ’Maenad’ shows up separate from Bag. Shit, the social aspect of Bag covers Maenads, Minotaurs, and whatever Mama Driver is along with folks like Saffron and Bill, who both could pass for Human if they wanted to. Hell, I think Kitten meant to try that early on, then got pissed off and decided ’fuck that noise, Bag Pride, baby!’ Which I’m totally here for.

Oh, shit, unless I’ve screwed up my count, which is completely possible, we’re about a month away from the Summer Solstice. Which is at the end of June, which is Pride month. Which... honestly? I think there’s less need for in the here and now. That’s not a bad thing. But some part of me still wants to, I dunno, throw a rainbow flag on the flagpole or some shit.

Oh, fuck! I have flagpoles! I mean, I didn’t see any flags on the longhouses, but ships have masts, and they fly flags from them! When I get my Battleships together, I am totally having Marie sew me some fuckin’ Pride flags and putting them on the masts. Not even really giving a shit if anybody else gets it. Let ’em think I like rainbows and shit.

So back to ’literally inhuman Endurance, which makes me feel some kinda way’, I think the me in the Love Shack took like six real breaths yesterday. Not complaining, mind you. Insatiable, thy name is Tabitha Diaz. Oh, shit, is that another side effect of stupidly high Endurance? Fuck, it might be. Now I gotta figure out if I’m actually going to be upset about being inhumanly good at sex and the enjoyment thereof.

Y’know what? Fuck it. Introspection off for the day. Yeah, I know that’s a lie, but I’m gonna try.

So nothing new on the Mimic Dream front, although the sous chefs joined Marie last night. Handy counterpoint to the growing legion preparing to plant my ass at the top of the shit pyramid.

Woke up feeling a tiny bit sore, but also kinda... satisfied. Like yesterday had been more fun than I thought at the time. I pulled myself up to put an arm around Marie’s waist and lay my head against her belly. On the one hand, not a position I’d want to maintain for any length of time, because I’d definitely wind up with a crick in my neck. On the other, the moment I pulled myself to her, all four of Marie on the bed started purring, including the three ostensibly asleep ones.

”Hey, Marie?” She looked down and ran a hand across my hair. ”One of you is always awake, watching over us, right?”

”Yes.”

”Could you sleep with us, like all the way, if I asked? Like, all of you?”

”Yes?”

”Can’t, or won’t?”

She smiled at me, letting me know without words that she appreciated how I’d made a habit of phrasing things in binary solution sets for her. ”Won’t.”

”Special occasions?”

She thought about that, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. Her hand never stopped stroking my hair, and I was fine with just laying there waiting. Finally, as Menace and Saffron started their morning boot up routines, she looked back down to me, sighed, and said, ”Okay.”

”Yay!” I quietly enthused. ”I’ll let you know?” She just nodded.

Once Saffron and Isnomi woke up fully and we all greeted the day with partner-appropriate hugs and kisses, which for those keeping score include a lot more tickling and a complete lack of grab ass when Isnomi’s involved, we all rolled out of bed and got dressed for the day. At breakfast I took great delight in feeding Saffron all of my corncake as drenched in syrup and butter as I could make it. Another win for spoons as a utensil of choice, because every bite I put in her mouth absolutely had a little moat of syrupy butter around it. If she minded the occasional sloppy bits dribbling down her chin, she didn’t say anything. Might have been my tendency to lick them off before they got on her uniform.

After breakfast we gave Isnomi hugs and kisses for the day, and Marie took her off for a day of Marie things. Which still, as far as I knew, included all Maid duties at the Academy. I asked her as the three of us made our way to the Advanced Mana Shaping classroom. We could have just Translocated, but all three of us liked walking together, not to mention enjoying the view from the tower windows as we went up the stairs.

”Hey, Marie? Are your sisters still playing with their Ds?”

She nodded, looking smug. ”Yes.”

”So you’re still the only Maids in residence at the Academy?”

”Yes!” She sounded so proud of herself. She absolutely deserved it, too.

I looked up at her smiling face. ”So, how many of you is that again?” She tilted her head as we walked, closing her eyes and pondering.

Mlem.

I pounced. I should have realized that my sweet Murder Mittens is smarter than that, especially when it comes to games of stalking and pouncing. She caught me mid-pounce and proceeded to kiss me the rest of the way up to the classroom. By the time we hit the floor with the classroom, Marie swayed a little bit, and Saffron giggled. ”Only you two.” We broke our lip lock to look at her quizzically. ”Both of you forget to breathe through your noses while you’re kissing.”

”Pfft. Breathing. Is that some squishy thing I’m too tanky to understand?”

Marie wound up carrying us both into the classroom, obviously enjoying playing live action dolls with us. Doc Roberts sat at his desk, with no one else in class yet. He chuckled. ”You three. I’m surprised you get anything done with all the goings on.”

Marie, Saffron and I all wound up with the same idea, and the Love Shack population went from zero to nine in an instant. I laughed, Marie snickered, and Saffron primly said, ”we are all exceptionally good at multi-tasking, Doctor.”

With that, we all settled into the central rear seats in the classroom, mostly there just to act as resources for the rest of the class. Back in our suite, Saffron sat at her desk coding, Marie sat tailor fashion with her butt propped up on the pillowy portion of her floor bed working on her needlepoint, and I lay in front of her reading my Marital Arts book.

No, seriously, most of the pictures had stuff written around the borders, and when I squinted enough to read it, I discovered actual instructions. Some of them weren’t super relevant to us unless we employed a strap on or shapeshifting shenanigans, and most of them were intended to enhance the experience, but more than one of them had some kind of comment about avoiding leaning a certain way to avoid, ’unpleasant sensations in the supporting partner’, and at least one so far listed out like half a dozen easily reachable pressure points for effects ranging from ’enhancing physical sensation’ to ’ensuring compliance’ to ’reducing sensation to prolong the experience’. Now, I’m not gonna say I didn’t file those away for later use with a certain Kitten, because that would be a lie, because I tried all three the moment I puzzled them out. All three worked a treat on Saffron; the latter two Marie indicated she just plain didn’t feel, but the first one...

Suffice to say we learned that ’enhancing physical sensation’ on a Maenad can cause her to lose control of her limbs in a ’flailing about’ kind of way, which left me really glad Saffron is a small target and that I am, in fact, inhumanly durable. We decided not to try that again without body armor. No matter how much Murder Mittens hinted, asked, and whined for us to do so.

Back in class, Cadet Smith came up to me and asked, surprisingly politely, ”Cadet Diaz, could you assist me with recovering my Mana today? I’d like to do some testing of my improved Mana Blade, but I presently can only maintain the Blade for ten seconds.”

”Improved?” When she nodded, I said, ”I’m not opposed to the idea, but show me.”

She got a bit of a booger look, but set herself, created not one but two distinct Mana Shapes, then extended two short Mana Blades, one from each index finger. The one on her left index finger seemed pinned in place, and she brought the other one down on it as hard as she could.

It left me gawping a little when it bounced.

Then she collapsed to the floor.

I leaned over, pressed an overcharged Stabilize into her, and helped her back up. ”How did you do that?”

”I Shaped a very thin Mana Shield into the core of the Mana Blade. I’ve yet to sort out moving it, but being able to block a Mana Blade with another Mana Blade would be useful, no?”

It took me a second to wrap my brain around that. ”Yeah. Yeah it would. Not that too many people can do it just yet, but yeah, that would be good.”

She spent the rest of the day alternating between studying some copied out papers and retrying her ’Improved Mana Blade’. By the end of the day she had the thing four inches long and held it for nearly twelve seconds. Not super impressive compared to my bullshit insanity, but still pretty impressive for somebody who, apparently, was getting by on skill alone.

A while after lunch, right after my third recharge on Smith, the Saffron in class leaned over into me from where she sat ensconced between Marie and I. I grow increasingly frustrated, my Goddess.

What’s bugging you, and can I stab it?

Not unless you’ve found a way to stab abstract concepts which, at present, do not have a Divine sponsor.

I shrugged, then set my book down and moved over to her desk in the suite, laying my hands on her shoulders and massaging gently. Then not so gently, as her shoulders resembled something closer to marble than the heavy clay feel of someone with a lot of muscle under some pleasant padding. ”What’s wrong, Kitten?”

”Along with his outright fraudulent Inspect Spell, Franklin’s choice of exponential values annoys me. I’m sure at this point he did it to deliberately obfuscate his failure, but even if...” she stopped, took a deep breath, turned around in her chair, then grabbed my head and pulled me into a kiss. When she pulled away, she continued. ”When I succeed where he failed and lied about it, the exponential nature of the values makes the Spell less useful than it ought to be.”

I nodded. ”Okay, fair, but are his numbers total, utter bullshit?”

She waggled a hand. ”Some of them, yes?”

”Is my Blend not as high as his Inspect shows it?”

She got an absolute booger look. ”Don’t remind me of your Blend. That is a completely different problem, one that adds multiple levels of complexity to my final goal.”

”Okay, but... some people are, like, multiple orders of magnitude Stronger, more Agile, and so on, right?”

She nodded, obviously glad to leave discussion of Blend behind. ”Correct. But I could account for that with something like a logarithmic scale.”

”Huh?”

She shook her head. ”Are you sure you passed your mathematics classes back in your world?”

I nodded. ”Yep. Straight Ds. Sixty five percent, on the dot.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. ”You’re smarter than that, Goof.”

”Hey! Do you know how much it took to get exactly sixty five? I had to deliberately throw a few questions on some of the tests and quizzes.”

She laughed, and by the time she quieted the hysterical edge to it faded. ”Only you, Goof. In case you don’t remember, I’m thinking of a scale where one through ten are linear... you know what that means?”

”Yeah, I remember that one.”

”Good. So, eleven would be two tens. Twelve would be three tens, and the numbers would progress linearly again to twenty. Then Twenty one would be two twenties, and so on.”

”You’re... still gonna lose some granularity, aren’t you?”

She shrugged. ”Well, yes, but the meaningful difference between one million and one million and three is negligible. A difference in who has taken a breath more recently.”

”So why are you caring about granularity at all?”

”Two reasons. First, I suspect that some things, like Titles, progress in that intermittently linear way. Second, right now, by rights, a ’ten’ should never lose a contest in that specific field to a ’nine’, yet that happens, based on factors external to the contest.”

”How so?”

”If you and Marshall duBois were to engage in a contest of Strength, if both of you had the same Strength, he would likely have an advantage due to his size. Or you might, if your smaller stature allowed you to focus your Strength more.” I nodded, and she continued. ”The same goes if one of you has a few more points of Strength.”

”Force multipliers.” When she raised an eyebrow I explained. ”ROTC term. Like, shit that lets you apply military strength more effectively. Like... uh... Oh! DuBois’ musical thing.”

”Oh! Yes, that’s an excellent descriptor. So,” she sighed. ”I want to change the scale used in Inspect.”

”So do it.”

She just gaped at me, working her mouth for a solid thirty seconds before she squeaked, ”people will think I’m insane!”

”Why?”

”Every number associated with Inspect will change.”

I gave that a second of thought, and got hit with a burst of inspiration. ”So drop some tool tips in there.”

She took a deep breath. ”I assume you do not mean for me to add awls into my Inspect? Although metaphorically they might help with Blend.”

”Oh. Shit. Translation fail when I’m talking about shit you’ve never seen, I guess. Okay, so y’know how the Spell gives you that feeling of being able to expand stuff in your Assess Health?” She nodded. ”Okay, like that, but an explanation for the new numbers. Like, what they actually mean. Like ’a one strength can lift fifty pounds above their head’ or some shit. Then just put a warning at the top of the whole thing that the scale has changed.”

She just stared at me, jaw slowly dropping open, eyes sliding wider. After a minute each of the Saffrons in the Love Shack pointed at me imperiously and said, ”Marie? Hold that woman down, that I might express my gratitude properly.”

I think that overall I liked the passionate hug and kiss at her desk more. Didn’t complain or abstain from any of that, though. When she broke away to leap back into her coding, I got curious about what my Status looked like, so I fired one up.

I woke up on the floor, and if there had been little cartoon birds circling my head, I would not have been surprised in the slightest. Saffron shook her head and helped me up. ”Sorry, Goof. Don’t use Inspect or Status in the suite until I’m done working. It’s not in any way safe at the moment.”

Weird visual effects still fading, I said, ”no, really?” Then, when she looked a little upset, I pulled her into a hug and reassured her. ”My own damn fault, Kitten. I should have thought about it and asked. Can I do one in class, though?”

She shrugged. ”It’ll be Franklin’s, but I suppose if you can tolerate the inaccuracy it won’t actually hurt you.”

”Thanks, Kitten.” I went back to my book, even if I had no real opportunity now to test stuff out, what with all three of me in the Love Shack currently being willingly forced to enjoy Saffron’s passionate ministrations. Back in class, I popped up a Status to look at.

NAME

Tabitha Diaz

RACE

Hybrid

HYBRID

Bag (31.25%) / Dan (25%) / Human (37.5%) / Vanir (6.25%)

AGE

JErrErrErr

ATTRIBUTES

STRENGTH

12

AGILITY

9

ENDURANCE

26

REASON

6

MEMORY

5

PERSONALITY

10

AFFINITIES

Water (40.625%), Air (17.1875Err Err Err%), Earth (12.5%), Fire (6.25%)

PATRON

Loki

SKILLS

CQC

8

MANA SHAPING

6

HEAL INJURY

8

HEALING COMA

8

REVIVE

2

CURE DISEASE

4

RACIAL SKILLS

None

Trying to ignore the fact that my Endurance had, in fact, slipped directly into ’no longer human’ levels, I flipped over to my other, secret status, only to have my brain balk a little at what I saw there.

NAME

Mimic

RACE

Mor

AGE

ErrErrErrErr x Err ^ Err

ATTRIBUTES

STRENGTH

23 Err Err Err

AGILITY

29

ENDURANCE

44 Err Err Err Err Err Err Err Err Err

REASON

13

MEMORY

11

PERSONALITY

28 Err Err Err Err Err Err

AFFINITIES

Water (81.25%), Air (34.375%), Earth (25%), Fire (12.5%)

PATRON

Loki

SKILLS

SCENT

9

ARCHERY

26

CORRUPT

26

MUSIC

8

ILLUMINATE

16

RACIAL SKILLS

MIMIC

16

MIMIC (Attack)

4

MIMIC (Attribute)

4

MIMIC (Defense)

8

MIMIC (Size)

16

MIMIC (Skill)

8

BLEND

32

”Kitten?”

The Saffron snuggled under my arm in class looked up. ”Yes, Goof?”

I think I broke it.