hellish-anomaly:

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Flug wakes up with his head on a pillow. A normal sized pillow.

He sits up, and immediately holds his forehead as it swims, realizing with a chilling shudder that his bag is gone. “H-hhf…i-it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m f-fine.” He whispers to himself, curling in his toes and looking around. The first thing he happily absorbs is that he’s back to normal size – Black Hat must have found the spell.

The second is that, while he’s on a bed, this isn’t his room, it’s…

…it looks like Black Hat’s. But the one from his dreams…but he’s not..he’s not dreaming…

Black Hat enters the room. “What’s it like being back to your normal size?”

“…..I uhm…I-I have a headache, but…i-it’s a relief, s-sir…thank you…” Flug crosses his legs underneath his body, digging his nails into his thighs. “…uhm…..have I…been in here..before?” What was the proper way to ask your boss if he’d been drugging you and taking you to his room to fuck you against your sentient will?

“Not that I know of, unless you have been helping Demencia sneak in here.”

“…uhm..n-no, sir. It just…looks really familiar…”

Maybe if not for Black Hat using the drug on him when he was small, Flug would be more easily convinced to brush it off. But learning of the drug’s existence, and waking up here and recognizing the look, feel, and smell of this place to be identical and synonymous with the sweet aftertaste lingering on his tongue…

“…h-have you brought me here before?”

“What business would you have in my room?” Black scoffs.

“Th-the same b-business you had after s-soaking me in the b-blender.”

Black chuckles. “You have had more dreams I see. Does Demencia know?”

Flug keeps eye contact. “P-please tell me the truth.”

“Why would I lie?” Black asks, tossing a spare bag and goggles. “The auction is at noon. Prepare yourself and meet me in the back driveway so we can load the machine and make our way to the location.”

“Jefecito tell me if I’ve been here before.”

“You tell me. Stop obsessing over my room and get moving. If we are late that will reflect poorly on my company.” Black grabs Flug’s arm, picking up the goggles and bag and shoving them against Flug’s chest. “Now!”

Flug numbly pulls both over his head, following Black Hat out into the hall silently.

“Go on and get freshened up.” Black dismisses, before walking in a separate direction.

Flug looks down at himself, grimacing at the stain on his shorts, and slumps off towards his own room. So even when the evidence is obvious, Black Hat won’t confess.

Fine.

Two can play at that game.

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