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The Gamer Chapter 1798 – All learning and no John make Layla a jittery girl [Layla POV]
🕑 Added 2024-12-05 19:50:14 +0000 UTCLayla had to swallow her drool. Watching him fight was just so… so… yes. It was so YES! There was so much ‘YES!’ in fact that she had not stopped blabbering that word at any point. She hadn’t stopped bouncing in her seat either, driving the John-sized dildo into her depths with every motion. Her nose was buried in the shirt.
A frustrated growl interrupted her stream of babbled affirmations of lust. The camera had cut away from the fight and to the duo of commentators. One was a shortstack, the other a goblin. Some kind of partnership between the CPDI and SSSN. Layla knew that it had come about because her man had done an interview/porno with both channels.
Anger completely wrapped around her soul and thoughts. The urge to go into rightful hysteria and throw the TV against the wall for daring to cut away from his handsome face was real. Her heart pounded in her chest. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the scent and the memories, and resumed bouncing on the dildo. In her imagination, it was him, taking her from behind. “A virgin ten minutes ago and a mother to be in one,” he whispered to her.
Layla’s orgasm wiped her mind clean of her frustrations. She kept wiggling her wide hips while her body spasmed, refusing to bring any less than the utmost pleasure to her man, even in her imagination. After they both stopped climaxing, the ebbing of hormones slowly pushed her out of the dreamland and back into reality.
The rightfully obsessed brunette rose from the drenched seat. She was feeling buzzed. It was a pleasant feeling right this second, the combination of several afterglows, but she knew it would be followed by the nausea and headache of dehydration. On wobbling legs, she made her way to the kitchen of her small apartment.
After two months of occupation, it looked a little more normal. That was normal by the standards of people who did not know that John was all that really mattered. The kitchen was clean but not too clean. There was some additional furniture around. She had gotten herself a couple of potted plants because caring for them was supposedly good for the mind.
All of this made her remember who she had been before his presence had enlightened her. The fragile mind of the old Layla had been shattered into tiny little pieces. From underneath, the new, better Layla had emerged, completely dedicated to being with her man.
The problem was that she may or may not have gotten a teeny, tiny bit too enthusiastic about it.
Those tiny shards of old Layla? Well, they were still around… and they had been kicking up a fuss after her little encounter with Romulus. Granted, those old parts of her had also realized that John Newman should be loved with every particle of her being, but now she was forced to contend with the question of how to express that love.
Layla knew that stalking was creepy. Sneaking into her future home while her man and fellow haremettes weren’t around was a breach of privacy. Feeling the unrelenting urge to stab anyone who was even a mild annoyance to him was an overreaction. She knew all of that. But was it really that bad when she did it?
Obviously, she was an exception.
Or was she?
That was where old and new Layla were tugging and where she was emerging as a third version altogether. Over the past two months, she had read dozens of books, selected and provided by Momo. Classic tales of heroism and adventure, economy, psychology and, most of them, philosophy.
Layla had requested those books herself.
Rightful as her obsession was, a question had opened a void in her soul: ‘What else am I? Who is Layla Viorica beyond John Newman’s woman?’
The question had created a cascade of follow-up questions. Was she even worthy of being with John Newman? Could she raise that child she so desperately wanted adequately? What did she bring to the table beyond her body? Could she get along with the other haremettes? Would she engage in a relationship with herself, in John’s position?
And when she was honest with herself… she did not have any certain answers to any of those questions.
After two months of studying the books and working a mundane day job, she had a little more clarity on those things. It was hard, sometimes impossible, to partake in average conversations as if they mattered.
Coworkers talked about the weather, when they could be talking about how John was affected by the weather. Wasn’t that so much more important?
Apparently not, at least not to other people. Somehow, that had been a realization that had hit her like a ton of bricks. It had been a random moment while delivering packages for the Abyss Auction. A life-altering second while carrying a cardboard box in her hands. She had almost burst out laughing then and there. She was still giggling when she thought about it.
In that second, she remembered what being normal was like. To be a part of the crowd. To be just another woman. The liberty of fitting in – and the dullness of it all.
Layla did not want to go back.
Layla did not want to dissolve in her obsession again either.
What Layla Viorica wanted, plain and simple, was to love and be loved by John Newman and his other haremettes. Yes, his aura had broken her brain. Yes, she had fallen for him for his own character as well. Yes, she would always stay obsessed with him. Yes, she believed that she was above the regular criticisms when it came to stalking and such.
No, she did not think that being obsessed was enough.
Layla’s eyelids fluttered. Her legs threatened to collapse, as a spontaneous orgasm made her plump thighs jiggle. Shivers went up her spine. She grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter. Slow breaths let her stabilize. ‘They must have teleported back to the Hudson Barrier,’ she thought to herself.
It would have been very easy to just open herself up to the combined weight of his aura. All she had to do was give in and she would be locked in a perpetual orgasm right up until her survival instinct kicked in. It would be absolutely wonderful. Mindless bliss for which she had to do exactly nothing.
There was no virtue in receiving pleasure for nothing.
Layla gave her own cheeks a couple of gentle smacks to help her focus. “Enough climaxes for now!” she told herself and downed another glass of water. After that it was to the shower to clean all the sweat and pussy juices off her short frame.
It was a quick shower, by her standards. Layla had always taken good care of herself and now that her body was for him, maintaining it to the utmost was a privilege. After drying her wavy hair carefully, she grabbed one of the unread books and sat down in the one armchair in her apartment. Clothes were a terrible confinement, but the shirt she had just used was nice and loose. There was not much of his scent left on it.
‘I only have one left.’ She knew without checking. The thought that she had not been adequately supplied annoyed her deeply. ‘Ah, but Aclysia has other haremettes to think about as well,’ she reined herself in. What remained of his scent mixed with his distant aura to wrap her up like a warm blanket. The fabric brushed sensually over her hard nipples. She sighed wantonly, but focused on the book.
It was a difficult read. Her thoughts circled around her man and how she should just run up to him, get on her knees and suck his cock. The urge was so strong, yet Layla focused, mostly, on the letters.
‘I’m the mediating mind between my proper obsession and a regular human being,’ Layla reminded herself of a little mantra she had designed. ‘I’m crazy for him. I should be crazy for him. I shouldn’t be a screeching, stabbing, creepy creature on his toes. Be an elegant, adorable, huggable and kissable lady that knows her worth and place!’
Layla turned another page. Keys turned in the door. She put a bookmark in. There were many other people that had access to her apartment and all of them were welcome guests. Today, two women walked through the door. One of them was Claire, the other Momo.
“Hello!” Layla controlled her enthusiasm to the best of her ability. She failed at moving with grace, but she managed not to move with total haste. That was good enough for her. A deep and lasting hug was exchanged with Claire.
“How is my favourite secret project?” the vampire asked.
“Pretty good, lack of John in me considered,” Layla answered.
“Your tone has gotten more stable,” Momo noted immediately.
“Successssssss,” the thought manifested audibly, causing the bar to harem entry to raise an eyebrow. Layla gave her a quick hug as well. It would have been a hug and a kiss, but kissing his women before him was the wrong order of things. “How is he? Did you take Justinian behind a shed and Caesar him?!”
“No,” Claire sighed. “Nothing so justified. John wants to use him for PR and anti-corruption measures. Ah, but isn’t that so brilliant?”
“Even his enemies are tools he aptly uses,” Layla swooned, clasping her hands around Claire’s. Green and hazel eyes sparkled with mutually understood delight taken by the same man’s supremacy. “I am so, so, so jealous that you get to see it all from up close.”
“It won’t be too long that we will unveil you. It won’t be too long that he will discover you. It won’t be too long that we will share his bed.” Claire did her adorable anaphora.
Momo cleared her throat.
Layla and Claire turned their heads, dreading what dull ‘reason’ the fairy would present. “I’m the judge of when it is time to show her off,” the maid reminded them. “Me and Lorelei. Only when the two of us approve, will Layla get to meet John in earnest. Now, Layla, mind if I have a look around?”
“Of course not, what’s mine is John’s and what’s yours is also John’s, therefore what’s mine is yours!”
“Sound logic,” Claire said with repeated nods.
“Sound in crazy land,” Momo muttered and checked on the main room and kitchen of the apartment. Nothing odd there, especially not the big dildo that was still adhered to the seat of one of the chairs via suction cup. Standard household equipment in the Newman Lifestyle™. Did not take a stalker to know that.
Momo stopped momentarily at the potted plants. She whispered something in an odd language that Layla intuitively knew was some kind of fairy-speak. The plants shuffled in their pots. A face formed from the soil, smiling up at the viscountess of the Midnight Court. The aura of the soil creature was alien and gone the moment it had whispered a few words.
“Alright, you take good care of your plants, so that shows some stability.” Momo left the plants behind. Her index finger trailed over the back of one of the seldom used chairs around the dinner table. “Not that clean of a household, but you’re not applying to be a maid anyhow.”
“Don’t think she’d fit in with us?” Claire asked.
“Intuition does tell me no… she doesn’t have the servant air to her. What do you think, Layla?”
Layla had an answer immediately. “Obviously-“ She stopped herself to actually ponder the question with more than her intuition. She imagined herself in a maid uniform. That looked good on her. She imagined herself doing chores. ‘Blergh,’ was her immediate reaction. “I would love to be in charge of laundry, to roll around in all the shirts, but no, I never was one for all of the surrounding work.”
“You’re definitely a lot more stable in the way you talk.” Momo tapped the side of her throat. “Your cadence is also less jittery. Feels like I am actually talking to a person.”
“What did it feel like before?” Layla wondered.
“A destructive impulse with assets that make men ignore those,” Momo commented drily. “Which is why you were, or are still, quite dangerous to MY John.”
‘Our John! OURS! OURS! OURS!’ Layla clenched her fists, the voice in her head getting louder and louder. Her short nails dug painfully into her palm. Muscles in her body tensed, then forcefully relaxed. Her voice remained flat. “You’re testing me.”
Momo tilted her head and remained quiet for a full eight seconds. Layla knew. She was counting in her head to occupy herself with a thought that wasn’t the threat of being kept out of the place she most yearned for. “I am,” the fairy maid finally confessed, letting Layla relax just a little bit. “If John was any other man, the way you’re conducting yourself right now, I would give this a ‘Heellll naw’. Since he is… yeah, okay, I’ll only say this once… but he is pretty great… at handling crazies.”
That she struggled so much to state the obvious was cute.
Blushing, Momo hastily walked towards the door that led into the bedroom. “The real test!” she shouted over her obvious embarrassment and stepped inside. “Oh… huh.”
Layla followed after Claire into the bedroom. Previously, it had looked like a crack den. Pre-installed floor, white walls, mattress on the ground, clothes in plastic bags, and a singular closet. Of all of these things, only the last remained in place.
She had tossed a rug on the floor (Fusion logo, obviously). The walls were still white, but she had thrown up a few posters. They were of philosophers and authors that she had grown to like over the past few months. She also had a poster of Siena and Undine, because she had come to genuinely appreciate their music. A proper bed now held the mattress. Most of the clothes had left the plastic bags and what remained was mostly what she gathered for laundry day or bras that had fallen out of favour due to some part of the metal starting to poke her. A second closet had joined the first, which remained unmoved.
Momo immediately moved up to that unmoved closet and opened it. “Careful!” Layla said, just a little too late. The gusto in the motion created a draft that sent some of the looser pictures in her shrine tumbling.
It had been two months. OBVIOUSLY, her collection of John photos and speeches had grown enough to fill every surface inside the closet where she kept his shirts. Pictures and texts fluttered around Momo, who stared at it all with a deadpan expression. She was halfway through closing the closet again, when she suddenly froze.
Layla and Claire went over, wondering what had grabbed the fairy maid’s attention. It was a photo of her and their man, walking arm in arm during some date. Momo was, for once, not the blushing one. Instead, it was John who blushed, while she fed him a rolled up pancake.
“You can have it,” Layla offered.
“Huh?” Momo snapped out of her stupor.
Layla moved between the inspector and her shrine and carefully removed the photo from it. “Here, you can have it. What’s mine is John’s and all of that.”
“I, uhm, thank you?” Momo took the photo and smiled happily at it. Then she shook her head so violently that the end of her hair, where it was bound with a metal ring, was sent flying. “No, I do not accept bribes!” she declared, while putting the photo in her inventory. “My declaration for this inspection! You’re obviously still crazy about Master.”
“…I mean, yeah?” Layla was confused why that even needed to be said.
“But, you don’t quite feel anymore like you’re a public safety hazard… which is a good first step.”
“”First step?!”” Layla and Claire complained as one.
“What more do you need, Momo?” the staunchest and best ally an obsessed woman could have demanded to know.
“Stress tests,” the fairy maid stated blatantly. “She struggled to retain control of herself when I did as little as taunt her.”
“Taunting me with being excluded is nothing little,” Layla hissed.
“And there’s the unstable cadence. That’s the point.” Momo pointed at the brunette. “The harem is weird. It shouldn’t logically function, given how big it is and how headstrong most of us are, but it does. That being said, I’m not going to advocate someone joins that’s even more predisposed to violence than Aclysia at her worst.”
Layla felt a sudden and fae shift in the aura of the room around her. It originated from Momo, sparking off her soul like a spark off a faulty electrical cord. Suddenly, the door of her other closet opened just wide enough to reveal a bucket that had been left in it.
“Wall-o-fix,” Momo commented plainly. “Let me guess, you damaged the living room when Justinian delivered all of his insults?”
“He’s unfit to live in the same universe as John’s prismatic radiance!” Layla declared, voice dripping with the need for righteous stabbings.
Momo pinched the bridge of her nose. “See, that’s the problem. We went over this before. If you follow these fits of murderous rage, you’ll be a massive headache for one, best case, and, worst case, you’ll hurt him or one of us.” White eyes opened again. “You’re able to keep the crazy in check in normal conversation. Now we need to up things bit by bit so it doesn’t take over when you get stressed.”
“Do we really need to be that careful about it?” Claire asked, then answered her own question. “If Layla manages to join the harem, she will get our level boosts as well.”
“Exactly. Dangerous.”
“…Okay, so what’s the next ordeal?” Layla asked.
“Telling you would let you prepare for the surprises ahead of you… Beyond that, I think we should introduce you to the rest of the harem bit by bit.” Momo scratched the back of her head. “Not that I think anyone besides Sylph hasn’t already caught on to something like this happening.”
Layla took a deep breath and hoped for a better tomorrow.
