Taking Commissions (I will not be including the explicit scenes for this story as I am planning to sell it based on the smutty scene’s word count.) 


Summary: As inventor Cindy Argentum unveils the revolutionary EEG VR device, she embarks on a quest through alternate realms to reunite with her lost love. Caught in a web of desire and manipulation, Declan Blackwood becomes entangled in Cindy's pursuit, blurring the lines between reality and obsession.




"So, Ms. Argentum," the interviewer began, his voice a contrast against the  crowd. "Your invention has caused quite a stir in the scientific community. Can you tell us more about your inspiration behind it?"


The muted hums of the conversation filled the air. I sat poised at the center of attention. Cameras flashed, capturing my every move as I fielded questions with practiced ease, my words were carefully chosen to convey an air of confidence and authority.


I met his gaze with a smile. There was a weight on his question hanging heavy in the air. "Well, you see," I began, steady despite the tension that danced in my stomach. "It all started with a desire to level the playing field, to give every woman the chance to experience the joys of motherhood, regardless of their species without needing the counterpart."


Although it was true, the whole, exact motivation was hidden behind my teeth. 


The room erupted into soft cheers and a few scoffs blended in. The sounds washed over me like a splash of validation. I nodded and smiled once more.


 It seemed fast.


I stretched my back and leaned on the chair.


Oh. Two blinks were quickly batted. 


My fingertips tapped on the armrest. I didn't realize that my subconscious has wandered to my interview that started it all. Such a useless reminiscing.


"Sigh, you're probably disowning me as you watch me from up there." I muttered to the wall with no one in the area.


 I know that I am perhaps more selfish than what you see on the television. Know It's for the better, I say, know it is.


My presence was then casually pulled by the newspaper that lay forgotten on the nearby table.


"Not that you let me be ever yours." Even her ghost has forgotten to visit me.


With a casual flick of my wrist, I reached for the paper, its crisp pages unfolding beneath my touch as I scanned the headlines with detached interest. "Society Embraces Matriarchal Future," the headline proclaimed, a testament to the seismic shift that had begun to take hold in the wake of my invention.


As I gazed upon the image that accompanied the article—a snapshot of two rabbits, their fur, pristine white as they cradled a small bundle between them. A thread-like pang of longing pierced through the facade. It was a yearning born of memories long buried, of dreams left unfulfilled—a juvenile ought for a past that existed only in the recesses of my mind. But not anymore and it shall stay that way. It better be.


For in truth, when there used to be no perfervid notion that settled in me, I am a hull. Just a structure. My skull ached to work and be recognized as a kid but I was lost, alone. What would I get recognized for? The withering of myself was never acknowledged by my own mother. She refused to recognize. I was left behind. I have no one. I had thought that it was only a flower that would relate to my wilted limbs.


I stood as I aged a little bit more, weakly and unsure. A foolish hope for a future where love and a chosen family transcended the constraints of tradition was unexpectedly dropped upon me when one's existence brought me out of a box; an older beautiful flower that had limbs almost as tall as me. O' how she used to be so lonely. I was simply a kid.


And yet, even as I reveled in the warmth of her first words to me, a shadow lingered—a reminder of the wretched pain that had brought me to this moment. Will she always be the tear in my soul? 


 Before I could dwell any longer on the ghosts of the past, Declan's voice shattered the silence. His words were a jarring intrusion on my reverie. "Should I go back to being a brunette?" The brawny lion asked while combing his dark blonde locks with his fingers.


The turmoil inside me churned like a tempest on the horizon. This scenario may look ordinary in default. That's not the case for me. "There's something alluring about a man who's not afraid to embrace his natural color," I replied, my voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness. Including lies. 


 For in truth, his hair color did matter—it has something to do with the memories it evoked, the echoes of a piece of me that has fallen onto her. I could never get it back from her. My dear, blonde, flower. 


Declan shall never know. His obedience reminds me of living and to swim with the little death. It may not come close to having a chosen family but Declan as an accessory gives me the illusion of being complete. Maybe I do value his company.


"What do you think?" His hesitation hung like a heavy shroud. What an amusing big man who waits patiently.


Besides, that v neck shirt is so aesthetically pleasing on his anatomy. If I speak out my thoughts it would be similar to the process of unusually forging someone. Feasibly a muscle memory at this point.


"Hm, but why would you do such a thing, Declan?" I crossed my legs as I tied my hair letting his name roll out of tongue glibly. His amber eyes stared at my knuckles. "I suppose I just miss my natural color," he admitted.


It is already known to me that accolades and awards during my time in this world may surely drive me crazy,


"Are you overworking yourself again Cindy? I can see your calloused finger, hon.”  Declan added as he reached for my left hand. Thou such a sweet boy. 


“Tell me first that there’s no more thinking of changing your hair color.” I bopped his earlobe gently with my other hand.


My statement made him frown a little but when Declan saw my faux sympathetic smile, he answered. “I want to know what's still so special about me being a blonde.” 


—this, however, this is what surely drove me more. Being in the position to be finally recognized this way. She—Declan, what I solely meant was Declan, he just needs a little push once more. 


My voice dripped with honeyed persuasion as I suddenly circled around him until I faced his back, the untreated finger he had touched, trailed lightly along the curve of his broad shoulders. “Ah Declan, my dear puppy.” He shivered at the pet name.


“You’re not just changing your hair color. You're embracing a mindset that sets you apart from the rest.” I can't help but cup both of his chests from behind. His reactions reassured me to continue though he may seem confused. I will never blame a tall, big boy for being confused at his own self when he surrenders willingly at my arms. Not in the way a man usually submits, Declan is different. 


“I am not a puppy. Is your schedule all clear today? You told me you were busy for later…” He questions. I glanced at his back arching, his bottoms bumping into my lap. If I close my eyes and he keeps being good like this, If I close my eyes and he continues to take care of his hair color, mayhaps I’d feel myself gushing like a lily. 


“And, hon what mindset?”


Not right now.


“I actually am. You’re just irresistible with that hair color. In a world filled with mediocrity, why would you ever want to blend in when you were born to look like a buff porcelain doll?" His big fingers flicked my forehead in a manner that will never hurt me and shaked his head sideways, wearing a grin. Consequently, I sent him a death glare which was eventually buried by my smile. 


Ring! Ring!


A notification bell rang through my phone. Without any second thoughts, I picked it up to unravel what was sent to me. 


10:43 pm 
Sec. Evelyn: Ms. Argentum, may I please know if the meeting for your new prototype is pushed through later? 


I hummed as I sent my confirmation to my secretary. My brain was taken aback when Declan pulled my wrist and landed my palm on his neck. 


“You are back to callin’ me your honey, am I right?” I chuckled, laced with some manipulation. I played with his neck, trying my best to not hinder the air out of his lungs.


“I’ve decided to not change my hair color. You sly lynx.” He awkwardly giggled.


“Are you sure? Why didn't you call me hon then?  You may be a strong lion but you’ll always end up being a good puppy for me, hahahahah.” Don't disappoint me, Declan.


“Can I get a kiss, hon?” I fought the urge to wince at the pet name. Truth be told, I never liked it however, I said to myself, it won't hurt to sprinkle small bits of dopamine on him. 


“Nevermind, never call me that again.” I squeezed his neck harshly for a second and proceeded to smile. He coughed and nodded. 


“Sorry pup, I have to go. Maybe I can give you some actual honey if you get what I’m talking about—only if you're obedient.” I pushed him softly away from me using my index finger. He was probably awkwardly scratching his nape right now but I didn't dare to look back.


I know Declan is a busy man too. I would never be happy with an ugly accessory who has nothing going on with its life. For now, I have to focus on something much more important. There is a confidential folder inside my briefcase that has been hiding for so long. I then mentally prepared myself before going out of the house. 


I hope this is indeed the answer to my prayers.