NR Ch. 04: Dagger

"Jackson, my Mistress will see you now!"

"Thanks Clarice," Jackson said, giving the fox floret a pet as he walked by her desk. She let out a happy little squeak and nuzzled against his paw, but Jackson was too preoccupied today to give her more than a brief bout of scritches. He wanted to cancel this appointment with everything he had on the docket, but Acer wouldn't hear it.

I will not stand by and let you imperil your mental health, puppy, Acer had said firmly. You will go to therapy today, or so help me I will drug you up to your eyeballs and drag you there myself.

The plant had a point, as much as Jackson was loath to admit it. He had learned to keep his emotions and thoughts in check out of necessity back on Terra, but there were issues in there that Acer wouldn't let him leave be. Letting those problems fester was much easier than coming to this office and talking about them, but Acer Maplestone was not the kind of being who preferred the easy way out. He enrolled Jackson in therapy the week he arrived on Gilreath, and he had to admit it did him a world of good.

That didn't mean he had to like it. In fact, he hated it. He would rather let his emotions pass than linger on them and cry about them, but that choice was not his to make. Acer gave him a lot of leeway in his wardship, far more than was typical in his understanding, but he would not budge on this. Fine. If he had to burn an hour every week on this pointless exercise, so be it.

Acer and Miss Veraceae might challenge him on his use of the word "pointless," but they weren't in his head. Jackson intended to keep it that way, and achieving that goal meant going along with the Affini's insistence that he explore his inner life with others like some kind of sap.

He walked through the open door into his therapist's office, and there she was. Miss Eliza Veraceae, Twenty-First Bloom, expert in the mental health of more than three thousand xenosophont species. Jackson supposed that if he could live for roughly 6,300 years, he'd develop a pretty wide skill set as well.

"Ah, it's lovely to see you again, Jackson," Miss Veraceae said, gesturing toward the couch all of her patients sat on. Jackson took his seat, forcing a smile onto his face. "Did you get a chance to complete the exercise I laid out for you last week?"

"Ah, fuh-huhhhhh!" Jackson moaned. Acer clearly hadn't been kidding about the new Class W regimen, trying to curse resulted in a lightning strike of pleasure between his legs. Miss Veraceae politely waited for the assault on his senses to subside. "I f-forgot."

"Hmm," the therapist said, jotting down a note on her pad. She had to be the only Affini Jackson had ever met who used physical writing implements. "Jackson, that marks the fourth assignment I've sent you home with that you've neglected. I understand that you've expressed reservations about these appointments in the past, but I do expect you to engage with these exercises earnestly. I know that your warden does as well."

Jackson sighed, fighting back an annoyed grumble. How was writing out ten unqualified compliments about himself meant to do anything for his mental health? It was beyond pointless. Acer gave him enough compliments to last ten lifetimes, between the plant and his floret friends he was drowning in positive affirmation. It was important for him to be realistic about his qualities and capabilities.

But he learned long ago that saying things like that in front of an Affini was as good as asking for a collar. If he was going to keep his neck free, he had to keep a level head during these sessions. Miss Veraceae may have had a twisted idea of what a mentally healthy Terran looked like, but she was no fool. Better to tell selective truths than outright lies.

"I'm really sorry, Miss Veraceae," he said, looking up at her and making his best puppy eyes. "I don't mean to blow off your assignments, I just forget things sometimes. They always used to discipline me for it at work and school back on Terra."

Ah yes, Old Reliable. Nothing melted an Affini core quite like discussing the perils of capitalism. Nothing he said was a lie either, he did forget things sometimes and Terran authority figures would often punish him for it. But he remembered exactly what Miss Veraceae asked him to do all week, no matter how much he tried to forget it.

Something in Jackson's head told him that maybe it wasn't the best thing that he was so vehemently opposed to giving himself ten compliments, but he brushed it off. Exercises like that were for florets who couldn't walk across a room without help from an Affini. He was put together and competent, everybody said so. People told him that back on Terra, and now Affini told him that on Gilreath. It was who he was. If he abandoned that to talk about his stupid, mushy insecurities, what would he have left?

Miss Veraceae took the bait. "Oh, you poor dear," she said, offering out a vine for him to take. Jackson accepted the gesture, holding onto it tightly, but not so tightly that she would think he needed it or something. "I understand. Issues such as these are very common among Terrans, you cuties have so much to worry about! In the future, I will communicate your assignments to Acer, and he can ensure they remain on your agenda."

Wait, fuck, that wasn't what he wanted at all! Jackson scowled, he had backed himself right into a corner. Miss Veraceae wasn't angry with him, but now Acer was going to find out that he hadn't done his stupid homework. His tree was a good deal more familiar with his tricks than his therapist, he wasn't likely to buy the excuse that he'd forgotten four straight assignments. That wouldn't be enough to domesticate him on the spot, but it would surely earn him a lecture about the importance of caring for himself. Fantastic.

"Thank you Miss," he said after a moment, a fake smile spreading across his cheeks. "That should definitely help."

Miss Veraceae smiled at that, dipping a vine in her pitcher of mineralized water. "That's a good boy," she said. "How has your week been?"

Jackson sighed. "Full," he answered honestly. "Acer and I are hosting a watch party for my favorite Terran sport today, and I'm pretty nervous about it."

"Oh of course, the great feetball party, it's the talk of the town!" Miss Veraceae exclaimed. "I can't help hearing about it everywhere I go. How many sophonts are you going to have in your Hab for the match?"

Jackson buzzed his lips. "Okay first of all, it is football," he grumbled. "I swear half of you plants say it incorrectly on purpose just to get a rise out of me! And second of all, it's gonna be like sixty. Acer and I have been cooking since yesterday morning to get everything ready. We had to have a restaurant stasis chamber delivered!"

Miss Veraceae scribbled something on her pad. "That sounds like an awful lot of work," she said. "Have you taken breaks during the day like we've discussed?"

Jackson chuckled awkwardly. "Uh, well when you're making food for sixty people in a day and a half, there isn't a lot of time for slowing down," he said. "I was exhausted by the time I went to bed yesterday, I just fell asleep in Acer's vines on the couch."

"Jackson dear, at the risk of sounding somewhat harsh, you cannot simply discuss changes you wish to make in therapy, you must actually make the changes," the Affini said with a sigh. She set her pen and pad down. "I first saw you nine weeks ago, and you said you wanted to learn how to take pressure off of yourself and relax. Do you feel you've done much in your time on Gilreath to work toward these goals?"

Jackson sighed and looked out the window. If he was being truthful, he hadn't, but what did it matter? He did just fine without all of this stuff beforehand, and he was perfectly capable of being self-sufficient. That didn't mean Miss Veraceae would be happy to hear his opinion, though. She was going to be a key character witness at his independence hearing, whenever that was. Jackson knew full well his degree of self-determination was unusual among wards, and the thought of giving that up was terrifying.

"I guess I haven't," he said with a sigh. "I just don't understand the point. I did fine without therapy and talking about all my feelings back on Terra, and I have a great time here without doing all the weird compliment stuff. I know they're true, Acer and my friends won't stop reminding me about everything they like about me. Why do I have to say it too?"

Miss Veraceae tapped her chin with a vine. "Let me ask a question in return," she said. "Why don't you want to?"

Jackson grumbled. It was always another layer with Miss Veraceae, there was never just an answer. Couldn't "I don't want to" be enough? Apparently not. The Affini's relentless drive to never leave anybody behind got obnoxious when you were perfectly comfortable being left behind on some fronts.

"It just feels unnecessary!" Jackson exclaimed, forcefully enough to make Miss Veraceae jump. "Why should I be praising myself when I haven't even done anything? Anybody can cook, anybody can throw a party. It feels selfish, it feels so stupid!"

Whoops. The mask wasn't supposed to slip like that in here. Judging by the look of concern on Miss Veraceae's face, Jackson had just made a pretty serious error. This was why he didn't want anything to do with this stupid place. If he ever let them see this side of him, he'd be collared and contracted by the end of the week.

"Jackson, dear," Miss Veraceae said, looking him right in the eye. "Did you really forget to do your assignment? I won't be upset if that is the case, but I would like to know. It's important that you be honest with me in these sessions."

"Well, um, I've been busy," Jackson said sheepishly. "I guess I didn't forget, I might've just kinda blown it off."

Miss Veraceae smiled softly. "That's perfectly normal," she said. "Among florets, that is. Such exercises are traditionally left to their owners to enforce. How are you feeling about your relationship with Acer these days, Jackson?"

Jackson grimaced. She did have him on that one, leaving the thought of responsibilities to your designated Affini was definitely some top-tier floret shit behavior. Thank the stars Acer embraced his wishes in a way that most Affini wouldn't. If it was Miss Veraceae who found him, he'd probably be a collared, fuzzy-headed pet by now. And that sounded awful.

Terrible. Definitely for sure something he never wanted.

"It's uh, it's good!" Jackson said, trying to sound casual. "We get along really well, and I feel like he appreciates me for who I am instead of something he's trying to shape me into. I'd ask him to be my boyfriend, but that would feel pretty weird with the whole pet thing."

"Why's that?" Miss Veraceae asked. "You two have had multiple conversations about your boundaries, and he seems more than willing to respect them. What's wrong with deepening your relationship?"

"Because I know he won't be happy with it not progressing past that," Jackson said miserably. "Do you know how many of my floret friends have tried to do something like that? They'll say 'oh, we'll just be partners, I'll never be a pet, we've got it figured out.' Most of them don't even make it a month before they're in a collar. Once you take that first step with an Affini, it never stops."

Miss Veraceae chuckled, and Jackson fumed. This wasn't funny, this was his future!

"Jackson dear, forgive me, but it seems you've already taken several of those steps," the Affini said, flipping through her pad. "You have regular scenes together, he performs most of your care tasks, you've even said you call him Master in the past. I must say, I don't see that too much would change if you wore a collar and called yourself Jackson Maplestone."

"That's not the point!" Jackson exclaimed.

"Then what is the point, petal?" She asked. Jackson felt anger bubbling up in his gut, but he took a deep breath and pushed it back down. Shouting wasn't going to fix anything.

"It just feels wrong," he replied. "I'm happy to play around with the idea, it's fun to be Acer's puppy during scenes. But I get sick to my stomach when I think about introducing myself as property. I never got to be anything but what I was told to be on Terra, Miss Veraceae. I can't go back."

She stopped writing in her pad. "It's strange to hear that from somebody who made such a passionate speech about the liberation of being a floret, Jackson," she said. "That footage has been one of the most popular videos on the local overnet this week. I'm sure you can guess what it says in most of the comments."

Jackson scoffed. "Probably something like 'Oh by the Everbloom, what a precious little seed! I'm going to go file a Notice of Intent right this minute!'"

It certainly wouldn't be the first time somebody called Jackson a seed. His floret friends teased him about it constantly, joking about how they should measure his neck for a collar, telling him that puppies don't belong on the furniture. And sure, he would play along, and get on the floor and bark when they told him too, but that didn't mean he had to be a pet forever! He liked having final say over his own life for once!

"Mostly to that effect, yes," Miss Veraceae said. "I'm not in a position to force you into domestication, Jackson. That is not my role, and it is not my place to pass judgment on the courtship practices of another Affini. But I am sending you home with a new assignment, and I will be sending it to your warden so that you complete it before your next session."

"I'm really sorry," Jackson said, looking back out the window.

"Ah ah ah, none of that," Miss Veraceae admonished. "There's nothing wrong with needing help to complete tasks. Internal motivation can be difficult for all sophonts, independent or domesticated. I'm certain Acer will be delighted to help you with your exercises."

Great. Fantastic. Wonderful. Jackson could almost hear the scratch of the pen on his domestication contract.

"Before your next session, you're going to do a little writing exercise for me, petal," Miss Veraceae said. "I want you to write out what would be different about your life if you were a floret. I assure you that this exercise will not be used against you at your independence hearing, it is simply something I want you to consider."

Jackson fought back a scoff. Yeah, sure. This was the Affini Compact, nothing was out-of-bounds at independence hearings. They would probably read it aloud to a chorus of polite titters from their peers, while Jackson blushed and grumbled himself into a puddle. All of the Affini would think it was adorable, and some part of his soul would die forever.

But if she was going to tell Acer that this was on his to-do list, then it was absolutely going to happen. Knowing his plant, he'd have to write the damn essay in his pup hood while so high he could barely see straight.

When he thought about it like that, Jackson understood why everybody thought he was a floret. But that didn't matter as long as Acer got it, and Acer demonstrated over and over again that he got it. He wasn't about to force his ward into some permanent, humanity-stripping pet relationship without knowing it was what Jackson wanted.

"Thank you, Miss Veraceae," he said, forcing his maelstrom of emotions back down under control. "That should definitely help."

"Of course, dear petal," she said. "I'll see you at the same time next week. You ought to get going for now, you've got to get ready for your legball!"

"Football!" Jackson exclaimed, exasperated, as he walked out of the office.

***

"I don't understand it," Jackson sighed as he mashed avocados for guacamole. "I know going there is good for me, but I always feel more tired and on edge after my sessions with Miss Veraceae than I do when I get there."

Jackson and his plant were in their massive kitchen, preparing the last of their food and beverages for the party. The handmade tortilla chips were already sitting in the stasis chamber, held in perpetual freshness until their guests arrived. But Jackson insisted that letting the guacamole sit, even flawlessly preserved by Compact technology, would degrade its quality. He had to do it just before everybody arrived, and he had to do it himself.

"That's typical for therapy among Terrans, little beagle," Acer said, mixing the xenodrug-laden floret punch. "Unpacking past traumas is tiring, and it can dig up previous thought patterns that are damaging to your species' psyche. There's a reason many first sessions at the medical campus are conducted with the patient in restraints. There's no telling what you Terrans will do sometimes!"

Jackson giggled. "Sometimes I'm amazed you ever let me hold a knife," he teased.

Acer shot him a look, and an electric thrill ran down Jackson's spine. "I'd be happy to re-examine that stance if you wish," he said with playful venom in his voice. "Your hood is just in our playroom, I'm sure you'd be happier doing all this work if you let go a bit."

Jackson waved his hand. "No, no, it'll be better if I just get this done," he said, not looking up from his task. "There's still so much to finish! We've got to make the guacamole and the punch, get everything set out, make sure the TV is hooked up to Coriander's feed, arrange all the seating-"

"Jackson-" Acer interjected, but the human barrelled onward.

"Clean the Hab, I need to pick out my outfit and change, and then AFTER the party we have to clean up again and put everything away and do something with the food!" His heart was racing. "I don't have time to be a dog, I have to make sure everything is perfect!"

"Starlight, stop," Acer said, adding an undertone of The Voice. Whenever he broke that out, it was enough to make Jackson stop cold in his tracks. "You have worked yourself to the bone all week for this party, and I will be disregarding my duty if I allow you to continue in this manner. You are going to put on your adorable little hood and finish making your lovely guacamole, and then you will not do one more thing to prepare our home for this party. Do I make myself clear?"

"B-but," Jackson squeaked, only for Acer to wrap three vines around his waist and lift him up to look him right in the eyes. The brown-haired Terran lost himself in the bottomless silver pools immediately, just like always.

"I didn't ask for protests, starlight," Acer said, squeezing the vines around his waist. "I asked if you understood." Jackson nodded, slack-jawed. Of course he understood. What other option did he have but to understand? Nobody was better at being clear than his warden.

The Affini set him back on the ground and set him off with a pat on the back, and Jackson made his way through the living room into their playroom. It was an expansive space full of kinky gear, but right now Jackson only had eyes for one thing. It rested on a metal mannequin head just inside the entrance, and just looking at it was enough to make him blush.

It was two pieces of neoprene, held together by snap fasteners in the shape of a dog's head. His had long, floppy dark orange ears to match his preferred breed of dog. The snout was the same color, and the rest was a uniform shade of black. Back on Terra, they called them pup hoods. Jackson had long wanted one, but custom neoprene was well outside the budget of most workaday citizens in the Terran Accord. Fortunately, that wasn't a consideration on Gilreath. All it took was one visit to a specialty tailor and a set of measurements, and now Jackson was the proud owner of a piece of gear that made him feel alive.

He came out wearing it, and Acer picked him up and deposited him back in the chair. He didn't continue with The Voice, but the echoes of it still rang in Jackson's head. Joining it was Miss Veraceae's unstated implication that not much of his life would change if he gave in and became Acer's floret. She couldn't be right, could she? No, that was silly.

Jackson focused on the task at hand, mixing the mashed avocados in with tomatoes, red onions, chilis, cilantro, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. He'd made this recipe as long as he could remember. It was the only thing he made the first time he hosted a party on his own. It was nice to be able to use the real thing again instead of the revolting synthetic produce he could find back on Terra. He shuddered, remembering the disgusting chemical aftertaste of fake avocado. It took way too much salt to cover that up.

"Excellent work, puppy!" Acer said, scratching under the hood's ears. Jackson wagged his butt, the weight of the world disappearing for just a moment. "Now be a good boy and go sit in your puppy bed until our guests arrive. And if I catch you doing even one bit of work to prepare between now and then, you will spend the game naked and bound. Understood?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'm perfectly alright to keep working, I'm not some fragile little floret."

"That's an awful lot of words for a little beagle," Acer said, brandishing an injector. "Does somebody need them taken away?"

Jackson yelped and scrambled over to the doggy bed in the living room. There was a cozy blanket and a book he had long been meaning to read waiting for him, and he couldn't help but smile. He may not have been Acer's floret, but the sappy maple tree took excellent care of him nonetheless. Miss Veraceae did tell him that he needed to take more breaks, after all.

He curled up under the fluffy blanket and opened the book. It was a kinky romance novel, all about a newly collared floret learning about their desires from a much more experienced puppy boy. It had been sitting on his nightstand for three weeks, but there was always something that needed doing. He'd only have an hour with it before company arrived, but it would be nice to have the hour.

Maybe Miss Veraceae had a point. It felt nice to take a break like this. Acer certainly didn't need his help, he was flying through tasks that would've taken Jackson far longer. At lightning speed, all of the food was out, the Wasps team flags were hung up around the living room, the TV was tuned to the frequency Coriander hacked into, and all of the seating was re-oriented to face the huge screen.

It was difficult not to feel useless when confronted with the infinite competence of the Affini Compact. This was why Jackson didn't like to take breaks. They made him feel like he was letting everybody else down, no matter how much Acer or his friends said otherwise. But expressing that thought might just get him some more Class W, so he shoved that emotion down alongside all of the others. Now was not the time to feel his feelings, it was time for football!

Jackson got out of the dog bed and went into his room, carefully putting his hood back on its stand. He went over to his closet to hunt down a good outfit for the game, only to find that his big dumb plant had already made something perfect. Hanging front and center was a brand-new Patrick Bradshaw Wasps jersey, black and yellow with the team logo on both shoulders. He felt it reverently, game-quality jerseys weren't the kind of thing he could ever get back on Terra.

He matched the jersey with a comfy pair of well-worn jeans, compiled to be a little ratty. It only seemed fitting for returning to football, dressing up would just feel ridiculous. They were going to be eating wings, nachos, chips and guacamole, and more fried morsels than Jackson could count. Anything but casual would've just felt silly.

The door chimed, and Jackson barked without thinking. He blushed. Maybe Acer's puppy conditioning was working better than he wanted to admit. But there wasn't time to consider that, there were guests to entertain! He donned his most winning smile and strode out of his bedroom, only to find the most adorable sight.

Standing in his living room in a flowery companion dress and struggling not to look happy about it was Brady Montana. Well, at least the sophont once known as Brady Montana. Coriander had done excellent work on her newest charge, the girl standing there bore little resemblance to the sullen, greasy, ill-tempered boy Jackson met just a week before.

Her hair was growing out quickly, even faster than was typical for new florets. The greasy mop-top was now long enough to be tied in a single blonde braid, draped over her shoulder. The companion dress was a vibrant mix of greens, fitting for her herbal owner. And of course, she wore a collar around her neck, made of four vines woven together and a solid steel ring at the front.

"Petal, do be a dear and introduce yourself like we practiced," Coriander said as she intertwined two of her vines with Acer's.

The newly-minted floret gave an uneasy curtsy. "Alice Apiales, F-Fifth Floret," she said, her tone shaky. "It's a p-pleasure to meet you again, Jackson."

"Oh believe me Alice, the pleasure is all mine," Jackson said, almost purring. "I guess you changed your tune a bit, huh?"

Alice squirmed. "It's not like I had much of a choice!" She protested. "Mistress is relentless!"

"Why, of course I am, little love," Coriander said, slipping a vine into the ring on her collar. "My little troublemaker requires frequent correction in her mindset, and I am more than happy to provide it."

Alice groaned and buried her face in her hands, but Jackson caught the hint of a smile on her face as she did. Nobody fell harder into florethood than the sophonts who were most opposed to it. Two of the wind-up dolls attending the viewing party today were once fleet commanders in the Terra Navy. He wouldn't be shocked if Alice ended up in a similar role.

"So you're a full-fledged floret already?" Jackson asked. "Implant and contract and everything?"

"Well, no implant yet," Alice said, peeking out over the hands that were currently failing to hide her blush. "Mistress is still growing her haustoria. But I just signed my contract two days ago. It was uh, it was actually really fun. Mistress gave me treats every time I signed under a clause!"

Coriander ran three vines through her floret's long blonde tresses and cooed praises at her, and Jackson felt a strange pang of jealousy. No, that couldn't be it. Why would he be jealous of a floret? He had everything he wanted in his relationship with Acer without a collar, contract, or haustoric implant. It was perfect. Right? Right.

"My lovely Alice's implant should be ready for her in a mere four days' time," Coriander said happily. Joy radiated from her body, seemingly brightening the room. Was there a single creature in the cosmos more fulfilled than an Affini showing off their freshly domesticated pet? Jackson didn't think so.

"You'll need to bring Alice over for a playdate while she's recovering from her surgery," Acer said, shooting Jackson a smirk. "My beagle loves little more than having a spacey little pet to play around with. He's got a chair in his favorite room that would be just perfect for Alice while her brain is having its vacation!" That got both humans blushing.

"Well, thank you so much for coming," Jackson said hurriedly, leading Coriander and a still-blushing Alice over to the seating area. "The game won't be starting for a little bit yet, but feel free to get comfortable and help yourself to some food! We've got plenty to spare, no need to skimp."

Alice forgot all about her embarrassment as she attacked a plate of wings. Her body was already filling out under her dress, it was hardly surprising to see somebody used to one synthcube a day living it up like she was. She was pretty damn cute now that she was bathed and lost that scowl. Jackson made a mental note to talk to Coriander about bringing her pet over for a visit to his playroom.

He sat down next to Alice on the couch, stretching an arm out around her shoulders in a classically Terran romantic gesture. He wasn't sure what his feelings were for the new floret, but her demeanor was certainly a bit more welcoming than the last time he saw her. Alice Apiales, Fifth Floret didn't seem like she was about to call anybody a "wormhead."

"So how're you liking the Compact so far?" Jackson asked, snuggling up to Alice and savoring the return of her blush. Nothing was quite so easy or relaxing as flustering florets.

"A lot better than I thought," Alice said with a wince. "Mistress gives me stuff every morning that means I'm really honest about everything, especially how nice it is to be here. It still feels like I don't really deserve any of it, and part of me thinks I still belong on Solak-5 or in that tiny little apartment back on Terra. But Mistress is so nice and my home is so comfy and her baking is so amazing that it's getting harder to believe I belong anywhere but here."

Ah yes, a classic suite of Class D and Class G for the reluctant, dysphoric floret. If Jackson had to guess, Alice was likely flying high on a few other things with her pupils all blown out like that. Class C was a likely culprit, perhaps a bit of Class A too. He'd have to ask Coriander before he put this little snack in his chair.

"I'm really happy to hear that," Jackson said. "Ready to watch some football today? I'm so hype to see a Wasps game again."

Alice looked troubled for a moment, but then her eyes unfocused and she smiled. "Yeah!" She said, her voice suddenly much higher pitched. "Mistress told me all about how she got the game ready for us. She had to hack into one of the CCC's super-duper encrypted feeds, they're probably gonna be really mad about that."

Jackson saw one of Coriander's injectors buried in Alice's thigh. That was disconcerting. What did she mean by "got the game ready?" Looking at how she was swaying in her seat, Alice was probably going to be too drugged up to enjoy the game anyway. Jackson shrugged it off. Saying weird stuff was a hallmark of the new floret.

The doorbell rang again, sliding open to reveal Aloe Belladonna and three of the most rambunctious dolls in the entire Compact. Erin, Mina, and Lauren Belladonna were holy terrors on Gilreath, their boundless energy matched only by their capacity for mischief. For a plushie, a pool toy, and a porcelain doll, they wreaked an outsized level of havoc. Acer stipulated on the invitation he sent to their Mistress that the three of them would need to be bound in place for the duration of the game to keep anybody else from being distracted.

"Hi Jackson!" Mina chirped, her vinyl, air-filled body easily bouncing up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks so much for inviting us! We're all really excited to learn about football!"

"We promise we won't destroy things again!" Erin chimed in, wrapping her plush, furry pink arms around Jackson's waist. It did not escape his notice that the soft little rabbit pressed her soft paw right between his legs.

"Speak for yourself," Lauren said with a huff. "Breaking stuff is fun!" It never ceased to amaze Jackson how that much destructive capacity could fit in such a fragile doll.

"Break my things at your own risk, doll," Jackson said, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "I'd be happy to break you again if you step out of line."

That shut her up in a hurry, and both her pinnates broke out in giggles. Synthetic bodies added a whole new dimension of fun for florets, Jackson was welcome to do whatever he pleased to them, and Aloe would have backups of their personalities saved. He'd sent the three of them home torn to shreds, popped, and shattered respectively, and none of them were any worse for wear the next time he saw them.

"Don't you worry petal, my little dolls will be happy to behave themselves for your little match," Aloe said, slipping a few vines through Jackson's shaggy brown hair. He leaned in to the pets with a smile, wagging without even thinking about it.

The rest of the guests filtered in over the next fifteen minutes. Most of them were floret and Affini pairs, but a good number of independents came in as well. Jackson checked the guest list, just about everybody made it! There was plenty of space, people were enjoying the food, everything was perfect.

"Alright everybody, it's game time!" Acer called, turning up the sound on the television. Jackson hadn't paid attention to the pregame show, it was usually mindless drivel anyway. But now that he looked at it, there were a few unusual differences from the Crown League he was used to.

Usually the stadium was covered in advertisements, every last inch of usable space selling some company or another. Whatever algorithm Coriander ran it through must've cleansed that. It was a bit strange, but Jackson didn't miss them. Advertising was something of a necessary evil in professional sports, but that wasn't a concern in the Compact. There was a good chance some of the florets in the room had their minds scrubbed of any memories of capitalism. He knew for a fact that Lauren had all memories prior to the Compact ripped out when she signed her contract.

The longer Jackson watched though, the weirder it got. The announcers sounded strange, their voices unusually chipper and their vocabulary scrubbed of the usual combative language of football. The feed cut out for the traditional pre-kickoff spacecraft flyover, replaced by a short instructional film on the rules of football. That wasn't too bad, as most of the sophonts in the room didn't know anything about football, but it was typically Compact cutesy. Plus, it said the point of the game was for both teams to have fun!

An uneasy feeling rose in Jackson's stomach, but he tried to calm himself. It was a minor miracle that Acer was letting him show a game so violent and feralist to a room full of florets, and they had gone to so much trouble to make this a party worth attending. So they softened the rough edges of the game a bit, that wasn't the end of the world. It wasn't like the overbearing capitalism and violence of football culture was pleasant to interact with anyway. It would all be fine.

Then the game began. It was not fine.

Tackles morphed into hugs. The announcers wouldn't stop talking about how the players were cuties and doing a fantastic job. There wasn't any scoreboard, because now the game was just about playing around on the field and having fun! It was unrecognizable, and nobody in the room knew! Well, Alice knew, but she was too busy inhaling food and getting drugged by her owner to complain.

The storm brewing in his mind cleared for a moment as Patrick Bradshaw took the field for the first time. Stars, he was a majestic specimen. Six and a half feet of pure, uncut masculinity, a muscular frame devoid of a single follicle of body hair, and by the Everbloom those eyes. They were bright green, sparkling with intelligence and what Jackson imagined was a sharp wit. The things he would do to actually meet him.

But then Patrick took a snap, and in a turn that made Jackson's stomach lurch, he just handed it to a defensive lineman on the other team! With a weird, unnatural smile on his face! It was the Compact algorithm at work again, that wasn't what Patrick's smile looked like at all. That was only half the problem, though. This was not football. This wasn't anything but a waste of time!

"I can't believe this," he mumbled under his breath. Erin, sitting directly in front of him in her owner's vines, turned around to face him. Her blushy bunny face twisted up in an expression of concern.

"Can't believe what, Jackson?" She chirped. Oh great, just what he needed. How could she ever understand? He couldn't burden Erin with his stress about all this, he needed to be able to handle his own anger without involving her.

"It's just not what I expected, I guess," he said, forcing down a myriad of more forceful thoughts about this mockery of his favorite game. "This isn't a lot like the football I'm used to."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Erin said. "I really like it though! Everyone looks like they're having so much fun. Do you think we could do this on Gilreath sometime? Mistress was all worried about this game being feralist or whatever, but this doesn't seem so bad!"

"Yeah, for sure," Jackson said absentmindedly. Erin smiled and turned back to face the TV.

Everybody was having fun but Jackson. He wanted to watch the damn game, not this weird, twisted, fluffy piece of nothing! How was this even a sport? What the fuck did Coriander do to his game?

He tapped the herbaceous Affini on the shoulder. "Coriander, could I please talk to you and Acer in the other room for a minute?" He asked, fighting to keep his tone under control. She nodded in assent, and Jackson led the two plants into his bedroom.

"Is everything alright, little beagle?" Acer asked, concerned.

Jackson took a shaky breath. Yelling was not the right course of action, no matter how badly he wanted it to be right now. "No, everything is certainly not alright," he said, his voice breaking under the strain. "What are we watching? This is not football, this is just a bunch of Terrans playing a weird game of catch in a yard! I've told you both so much about this sport, you have to see how insane this is!"

Coriander shrugged. "We don't believe unaltered football is an acceptable broadcast for Compact space, especially not for a room full of florets," she said as though it were the most understandable concept in the universe. "I ran the broadcast through a simple floret filter, nothing more. Everybody seems to be enjoying themselves."

"I'm not!" Jackson exclaimed. "Acer, come on, there's no way you don't understand this. I've spent hours talking your vines off about this sport, this is nothing like it! You've listened enough to talk about play concepts with me!"

Acer looked uneasy. "Little one, I'm sorry, but I have to agree with Coriander," he said. "She showed me the unaltered broadcast when she first accessed the feed, and to tell the truth, it was far worse than I feared. The feralism goes beyond anything we've seen from Terrans short of military engagements. One of the players on the Cherries broke his neck during a tackle!"

Jackson wanted to scream. Not only did these plants not understand the Terran concept of risk, they refused to try. Yes, football was a rough game, sometimes people got hurt. That was all part of it!

"I wouldn't be doing all of this work if I knew that we were just going to be watching some stupid Compact crap," he said, anger creeping into his voice. "I've worked my tail off all week for this?! Do you know how excited I was to bring this part of myself back and show it to everybody?"

"Petal," Acer began, but Jackson was not stopping.

"I know you plants are obsessed with keeping us safe, and I know that Terrans have hardly proved themselves trustworthy," he continued. "But how in the stars could you think I would be okay with this? If you didn't want us watching football, you should've just said no!"

Acer wrung his vines, and even Coriander looked guilty. "I just wanted to make you happy, starlight," he said. "I thought this would be an equitable compromise."

"An equitable compromise?!" Jackson shouted, fuming. "It doesn't feel like one to me!"

"Jackson please, there are sensitive florets out there," Coriander cautioned, but Jackson was beyond caring.

"All you want to do is take my old life away!" He continued, pacing back and forth across the room, his hands tangled up in his hair. "Everything about Terra and the Accord is awful and sinful and needs to be purged, right? So no more freedom, no more rights, no more self-determination for us as sophonts or our species as a whole! No, the Affini Compact knows best, and the rest of us are just little art projects for you to use however you fucking want!"

The Class W gave him a jolt of pleasure, but he was too angry to pay attention to it. Coriander looked sorrowful, but Acer just stared back at him. His bright silver eyes shone with what Jackson's brain told him was fury.

"Coriander, please go rejoin the party," Acer said, stepping toward Jackson. "My ward and I need to have a little chat."

Coriander nodded and left the room without another word, leaving Jackson alone with his plant. The human's hands were now balled up in fists at his sides, his heart was racing, and he had a lump in his throat. Was he going to start crying now? Great, just what he needed. A stupid outburst followed by sobbing like a little girl.

"Jackson, I know you don't believe that," Acer said.

"Maybe I do," Jackson lied. "I really thought you understood me. Why didn't you just say no? Why didn't you at least tell me that we were going to be watching that?"

"Because this was the best I could do, starlight," Acer said, his eyes still pulsing with what Jackson now recognized as sympathy. "I told you yes without understanding just how deep-set the feralist roots of this sport were, and by the time I figured it out, I didn't have it in me to cancel. You were just so excited, and you already told all of your friends and invited them over, I couldn't stand to take that away from you."

The anger died in Jackson's chest, replaced with an overpowering feeling of shame. He was stupid to ever think he could have unaltered football in the Compact. Shown to a room full of florets? Many of whom would start crying at the sound of a raised voice? What was he thinking? And then to top it all off by yelling at two of the Affini who had the most say in his independence, Jackson had just undone an unknown amount of careful work. All that time spent building up the reputation of somebody who had his act together, tossed aside because of a stupid game.

They were probably out there crying now, having to be comforted by the Affini because he couldn't control his emotions. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Little beagle, what's going on?" Acer asked. "This isn't like you. You've never raised your voice like that in two months, certainly not at somebody else."

This had not been a banner day thus far, but if Jackson followed this line of questioning to its logical conclusion, it was only going to get worse. Acer was going to find out he was a total mess, he was going to get domesticated and lose himself forever. Florethood may have been liberating for others, but Jackson knew himself better than that. He couldn't give in. He had to keep fighting.

"I was just upset, I guess," he lied, his tone appropriately miserable. "I was so excited about seeing a football game again, and I've been so busy this week, and I snapped. I just wish you'd told me beforehand. That was a pretty rough surprise."

It felt awful to hide things from Acer, who Jackson knew just wanted to help him. But how could he talk about being deathly afraid of pethood with the plant who wanted to collar him in the first place? "Conflict of interests" didn't do this situation justice.

Acer didn't buy it for a second. "Jackson, you and I both know this is more than that," he said firmly. "Miss Veraceae told me you have been disregarding your assignments for therapy. You have been neglecting your emotional self-care and trying to hide it. It's only natural for that to boil over, especially with the amount of stress you put yourself through. But this gives me pause on the matter of your independence."

Jackson's stomach dropped. There it was. "B-but being a pet won't fix any of that," he protested. "It already feels like I have to walk on eggshells to keep living the life I want, holding domestication over my head will only make it worse!"

Acer grabbed Jackson in his vines, much more forcefully than usual. For once, he was not happy to be there. He grunted and squirmed in his guardian's grasp, but it was just as inescapable as ever.

"Starshine, why does what you said to sweet Alice not apply to you?" Acer asked. "You told her all about how florethood is liberating, and yet you insist that for you, it would be some horrific punishment."

"Let me go," Jackson demanded, but Acer kept his grip.

"Not until you answer my question," he replied, sticking an injector in Jackson's thigh. "Class D, as you are being unusually recalcitrant. I don't like treating you like this, Jackson. It's usually not necessary, but this emotional state is abnormal for you and calls for greater measures. Now, out with it. Why is florethood good and right for everybody but you?"

"Because it feels like I'll die!" Jackson shouted. It wasn't anger that propelled the words out of his mouth, it was cold, soul-crushing dread. "It feels like the moment I sign my contract, Jackson Meadows will be dead and gone. I can't be one of those pets who can't do anything for themselves, I can't lose the part of me that loves football and built a sustainable life on Terra. I wouldn't be me anymore. I'd be something else."

Saying the words aloud made Jackson want to vomit. There it was, his messy insecurities in all their glory. The logical part of his brain told him that Acer already did so much for him, but the rest of his brain shouted back that he was choosing all of that. He could make it stop and say no whenever he wanted, and Acer would listen. He was in control of his life, and the thought of surrendering that was worse than death.

Acer set Jackson down on the bed, relaxing the iron grip on his body and wrapping him in what was much more like a hug instead. That didn't make any sense. He was supposed to be punished for outbursts like this, not comforted. He'd never blown up at Acer like this before, shouldn't he be out on the street and told never to return? Left to fend for himself, to be scooped up by some other plant that didn't really care about him.

Instead, Acer ran vines through his hair and whispered in his ear. "Oh petal," he said, gently rubbing Jackson's back. "Your ability to fend for yourself does not define you. I don't know who convinced you otherwise, but I am so sorry your life has led you to a point where accepting help makes you feel like you're dying."

"That's not-" Jackson started, but then he stopped. Acer was right, like Acer usually was. How many times had he instinctively refused assistance this week? Four friends had offered to help with party prep, but he turned them down because he needed to do it himself. He was the put-together one, he was the grown-up. Accepting that he couldn't do something himself was a sign of weakness, and nothing was worse than that.

"Miss Veraceae sent me the writing exercise she assigned you in therapy today, I think it would be healing to work on that," Acer said, keeping up the smooth strokes down Jackson's back. "Once all of our friends depart, Patty and I will handle all of the cleanup. You will not lift one little beagle paw to help, and you will spend tonight relaxing. Your schedule is clear tomorrow, and I will keep you company while you write. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes Acer," Jackson said, his voice heavy. He would rather do literally anything else, but his behavior hadn't given him a lot of options. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Apology accepted, little beagle," Acer said, brushing Jackson's hair out of his eyes. "I do understand your anger, I definitely could have handled this situation better. We can discuss other ways for you to interact with your hobby after the party. For now though, I think you have had quite enough Terran words for today. Don't you?"

Jackson nodded. Puppies didn't have to be in control of everything, they were too busy being happy and wagging their tails. Before he knew it, his hood was on, his leather paw mitts went on over his hands, and an injector was in his thigh.

"A mix of Classes A and W for my precious puppy," Acer said, rubbing his tummy with a vine. "You will spend the rest of the party in your puppy bed, getting pets and making those adorable puppy noises of yours. We will be talking more about what happened in this room, but I want you to know that I am not angry with you. Do you understand, Ripple?"

Ripple. His puppy name. Acer only pulled that out when it was time to really not be a human for a while. Ripple barked and nodded. It made perfect sense that they should talk more about the outburst, but he was grateful that Acer wasn't mad. His handler was the best part of living in the Affini Compact.

Acer carried Ripple out of his bedroom, where he saw to his relief that nobody looked upset. The soundproofing in Compact buildings didn't mess around, and it looked like everybody was engrossed in the strange Affini perversion of football. Well, that and the puppy now laying on his fluffy bed in front of a room full of florets.

The rest of the party passed in a haze of tummy rubs, scritches, and cooed words of praise. Somewhere along the way, Ripple lost his jersey and jeans, but he didn't mind. Puppies didn't need clothes, after all.

Ripple avoided looking at the television, not wanting to trigger his anger again. He didn't like the way he felt when his emotions got the better of him. At least he didn't cry. He hated crying, it felt awful. Crying in front of Acer would likely be the final thing the loving tree needed to domesticate him.

The game came to an end and sophonts slowly trickled out, bidding Ripple and Acer goodbye. Almost all of them complimented the food, especially Alice. She left with a huge container full of leftovers, which Ripple estimated would last maybe a day. The newly minted floret was going to look so cute when she got all chubby.

When the last stragglers finally left, Acer got to work cleaning up the Hab. He turned on a movie for Ripple to watch, mercifully not a floret cut. He also compiled a strange-looking silicone vine and handed it to the puppy.

"You could use some release, little beagle," Acer said with a smile. "Enjoy it as long as you like, and bark three times if you'd rather enjoy my touch."

Normally he'd be barking his head off instantly, but Ripple held off. He'd been so much trouble for Acer already today. He couldn't stand the idea of giving him something else he had to be responsible for.