Chapter 27: Mia's Gothic Penisology and Strange Cheryl's Contest.

February 5, 10:00 PM. Mia Luna’s house, Residential District of Dreamside.**
Mia stands in front of a huge table in her spacious living room, cutting homemade Valentine’s cards from black cardstock. She wears black boots, black stockings with white skull patterns, a black pleated miniskirt, a sleeveless black top that leaves her midriff bare, and a black dog-collar choker. Her face wears deathly-pale makeup, with black mascara and black lipstick that make her eyes and lips stand out sharply.
Mia hums softly:
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of Space—out of Time.
The doorbell rings at the front entrance—a cheerful requiem melody.
“Come in! It’s open!” Mia sings out in her beautiful, childlike voice without looking up.
Vilde walks in, dressed in red denim shorts, a pink t-shirt, and white sneakers. She carries a large yellow paper bag.
“There you are!” Vilde says. “Anyway, I finished my part of the project. Where should I put it?”
Mia nods toward the couch without glancing at her, still focused on her cards.
As soon as Vilde sets the bag on the big pink couch, Mia looks up with wildly cheerful eyes. Her upbeat mood clashes with her goth look.
“I’m almost done, Vilde! Five hundred eighty-nine cards! I probably won’t hit a thousand today, but by February 14th there should be enough for all the local boys I know.” She pauses and pouts thoughtfully. “Well, except the gays. And except Kate’s guy—Alex. He’s such a cutie that mean Kate keeps locked away, not letting him out to parties… I’d need something more than just a simple card to get his attention… Maybe I could even steal him from Kate? Hmm…”
Vilde steps closer to inspect the cards. They are black with gothic designs in silver and white, little skulls or roses, and heart shapes cut into the edges.
“Wow, these are really nice!” Vilde says, picking one up with a silver spider in the center. “You’ve got good handwriting too. It’s almost too pretty for a goth card, though.”
Mia giggles, her deadpan expression cracking. “I know, right? I actually practice my handwriting! The teachers at our college say I should be a calligrapher or something.” She picks up a completed card and hands it to Vilde. “Here! Look! Something like these I’ll hand out to the professors. Well, why not? Mature men love eighteen-year-olds!” Mia giggles again. “I just need to see which ones throw my creations into the trash. Those are the ones I’ll slip specially dug-up worms or caught spiders to… If only I knew which ones are afraid of worms and which of spiders…”
Vilde examines the card, admiring the delicate calligraphy and Gothic flourishes. “Wow, this is actually really cool. I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”
“Yeah, it’s a hobby of mine,” Mia says, twisting one of her high blonde pigtails around her finger. “I do all kinds of stuff—lettering, papercraft, binding journals. It’s kinda therapeutic.” She shrugs, then grins wickedly. “And also useful for revenge. I once made this really creepy card for one young teacher in high school. He was nice-looking but a fucking bastard who always made me feel stupid in class. I put in a voodoo doll and everything. I pretended it was just a joke, but he got really pale and started stuttering.”
“Ha! That’s brutal,” Vilde says, smiling as she studies the card. She notices how Mia’s brown eyes sparkle with mischief. “But hey, if he’s a dick to his students, he probably deserves it.” She hands the card back to Mia, who tucks it into a small leather-bound book on the table.
“Exactly,” Mia says, her pigtails bouncing as she nods. “It’s not like I actually cursed him or anything.” She pauses, then leans closer and lowers her voice. “Well… maybe I did. But only a little.” She bursts into giggles, hands flying up to cover her mouth for a second. “Okay,” Mia says, calming down. “Maybe DreamArts isn’t the best college in the world, but it’s definitely better than my high school. I go to bed in two hours, but I’ll have time to check everything you did on your part of the project. Fix it if needed—and tomorrow we’ll present it all to Mr. Stevenson.”
Mia heads to the kitchen toward the fridge. On the way, she calls out loudly to Vilde, who stays in the living room.
“By the way—how’s the search for a boyfriend with a ‘lion-sized dick’ going? Just don’t tell me you’re planning to check every guy’s dick in person!”
Mia grabs a bottle of Coca-Cola and winks as Vilde appears in the kitchen doorway.
“But I can help if you want. It’s always interesting what kind of little worm a boy’s got in his pants. Usually you need a magnifying glass, but maybe you’ll get lucky? We could even put together a comparative database. I’ll be your personal penisologist.”
Vilde giggles, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re terrible, you know that?” She moves closer and takes the bottle from Mia’s hand for a sip. “But actually… I do kinda need help. I’ve been talking to this guy online for a while now, but we haven’t met in person. He claims he’s ‘well-endowed,’ but how am I supposed to know for sure? He could just be lying.”
Mia snatches her drink back with a mischievous grin. “Oh, this is perfect! We’ll arrange a test.”
“Test?” Vilde repeats, tucking a strand of her light blonde hair behind her ear.
“Well… Like how? I’ve heard that if you ask a boy to send a photo, he might send a dick pic of some other guy… Sure, he lives here in Dreamside and we could check in person when we meet, but… Damn, Mia!”
Vilde exclaims irritably as she sees Mia laughing.
“Come on, what’s so funny?! I want my first time to be magical! And for that I need a lion-sized dick! Lions fuck amazingly, I heard the narrator say on National Geographic when I was watching that Africa episode…”
Mia bounces on her black boots with delight, her blonde pigtails swaying. “Oh my god, you’re so serious about this! I love it! Okay, okay—we’ll do it properly. First, we’ll arrange a date somewhere public. A café would be best—you need to be able to see if he’s wearing tight pants or if he’s packing. Then, we’ll go somewhere more private… maybe to his place. And when you’re alone with him, you can ‘accidentally’ touch his dick to check its size.”
Vilde frowns and nervously scratches her head. “Hmm… That’s actually a pretty solid idea. Listen, what if he’s… like, a really good guy, but his dick is small? Or he doesn’t have one at all—like if he’s transgender? Or the opposite: a total asshole but with a lion-sized dick? Maybe I should only consider black guys? I don’t know, that feels kinda racist… Damn, why are you laughing again?”
Vilde groans as Mia laughs once more. “And you said ‘we’? Like the two of us are gonna go on the date with him together?”
Mia takes another swig from the bottle, her big brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “No, not together. I’ll just be nearby. If he turns out to be a creep, I’ll be there to intervene. And if he’s amazing but not well-hung…” She shrugs, twirling one of her blonde pigtails around her finger. “Then I’ll jump in and help you out.”
Vilde tilts her head in confusion. “Wait, so you’re saying if he’s not big enough, you’d—“
“Fuck him and report back?” Mia interrupts with a wicked grin. “Exactly. I’ll tell you exactly how it feels.”
February 6, 5:30 AM. Miller’s house, Residential District of Dreamside.
A silver Toyota Grand Highlander Hybrid pulls into the small parking area in front of the house. Jocelyn steps out, dressed in a black T-shirt, black army boots, and black leather pants. Her long blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail with a dark hair tie, and stylish silver skinny shield sunglasses by Balenciaga cover her eyes.
Jocelyn spots her husband Gael in the distance. He does pull-ups on a bar near their garage. Gael does a light workout on the bar every weekday morning before heading to Dreamside High School. Right now he wears only blue denim pants and black boots. He is not sweaty—the California sun at 5:30 AM on February 6 barely warms things up, and the air feels cool but not cold.
Jocelyn leaves the car in the parking spot and walks over to Gael, twirling the car keys in her hand. She speaks to him without taking off her sunglasses.
“Oh, some things never change, huh? Warming up before you go torture the kids at school with military training?” Jocelyn says with a note of sarcasm. “You know, I’m something of a teacher myself,” she adds, paraphrasing the Spider-Man meme, referring to the fact that she oversees the residents of Château des Rêves as head of security. “Though mine’s more like a kindergarten than a school.”
Gael drops from the bar and lands softly on the balls of his feet. He grins at her, a real, easy smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “At least my students don’t have multi-million dollar contracts and egos to match,” he counters, wiping his hands on his jeans. “A kindergarten, you say? More like a zoo full of overgrown, overpaid children who’ve never heard the word ‘no’.”
He steps closer, his gaze appraising. “You’re back early. Everything quiet over at the palace with the Château kids?”
Jocelyn takes off her sunglasses and deftly clips them onto the high neckline of her black security-guard T-shirt. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Almost.” She smirks. “Actually, Kae, Becky, Amy, Lila, and Madi cover for me. We’ve got kind of… an emergency.”
After a few seconds of silence, Jocelyn laughs at Gael’s puzzled face. “Oh, you should see yourself right now! It’s nothing serious. The new night janitor turned out to be a self-taught hacker who tried to sabotage the mansion’s security system—but my guys caught him. Turns out the 42-year-old idiot fell in love with socialite Marisol and did it for her, to scare Becky. And then Kate, after four years of quiet life with Alex, decided to turn him into a cuckold and went off to fuck King B himself at Topanga Canyon Inn—the rapper who’s been showing up at parties a lot these past months. Otherwise everything’s the same old: Madi grinds away at Health&Cozy while simultaneously treating the whole mansion, making the women jealous and the men hard. What else?… Oh, right—Amy still stubbornly hides her dildo collection, Kae successfully juggles butler career with OnlyFans, Daria successfully hides her Russian accent so she doesn’t annoy formerly-Russian-speaking Alex, Lila successfully psychologically dominates Alex, Becky plots a counterattack on Marisol, Ellis hasn’t given up her dream of sucking Alex off, Anastasia dances naked between teaching dance and gymnastics classes to Kate, Chelsea curses in Chinese at her assistants in the main kitchen. That’s pretty much all the big fish—the rest of the plankton nobody really notices. Fun, huh?”
Gael’s grin vanishes, replaced by a flat, stunned expression. He stares at Jocelyn for a solid five seconds, processing the verbal avalanche. “Whoa. Fuckin’ whoa. Hold on.” He runs a hand through his hair. A short, disbelieving laugh escapes him. “Let’s rewind. Kate? Our Kate? Is fucking… King B?”
“Yep,” Jocelyn says, popping the ‘p.’ She looks immensely pleased with his reaction.
“The same Kate who, last I checked, was so deeply in love with Alex she practically glowed when he entered a room? The one who calls him ‘Baby Boy’ in that voice that could melt titanium?”
“The very one.” Jocelyn giggles and continues. “Well, according to the girls, she discussed everything with Alex, and he’s supposedly okay with it. And the whole thing was cooked up by Kate’s best friend—Aria. I’ve told you about her too. As for Becky… oh boy…”
Jocelyn laughs. “That personal assistant of Kate’s was ready to explode. Turns out she and Marisol have been feuding for ages—the conflict dies down, then flares up again. Last year Marisol tried to poach Becky’s head chemist to get a better edge in competing her Dansunshot against Becky’s Treslúce Beauty. Marisol offered the chemist better terms, but he stayed loyal to Becky. And after that little stunt from Jonas last night—you know, the night janitor—Becky completely lost it. Our tireless Ms. Alvarez found out that Marisol spends most of her time not here in her Dreamside mansion called Marina Trees, but at her other mansion in Malibu. So now Becky plans to head to Malibu, beat Marisol up, rip out her hair, and feed it to the dolphins there. I still haven’t figured out what exactly Becky plans to feed the dolphins—Marisol’s hair or Marisol herself. Either way… poor dolphins…”
Gael lets out a slow whistle and shakes his head in disbelief. “Damn, Becky’s always been intense, but this? This is next level.”
Jocelyn grins. “Oh, just wait. You haven’t heard the best part yet. Becky’s not just going to Malibu to rough up Marisol—she’s bringing reinforcements. She’s got a whole crew of Nádherná Beauty loyalists ready to back her up. They’re calling it Operation: Revenge.”
Gael barks out a laugh. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” Jocelyn nods. “Becky assembles her personal team for that, including a few surprise guests—some of her buddies from dirt bike racing who aren’t afraid to throw down. And get this—they’re bringing their own cameras. They want to film the whole thing and leak it online.”
“Fuck.” Gael scrubs a hand down his face. “I can already see the headlines: ‘Cosmetics Princess Becky Alvarez Brawls in Malibu.’ Won’t that affect… her image? Is she thinking about that?”
Jocelyn snorts. “Becky? She’s not thinking about anything except getting even. Image schmimage. She’s got her eye on the prize—Marisol’s face smashed into a pile of Nádherná Beauty samples. This is personal.”
Gael chuckles. “Fuuuck, I don’t envy Marisol. Becky’s got a hell of a right hook from all those years riding dirt bikes.”
“Exactly,” Jocelyn agrees. “And let’s not forget, Becky’s got connections. She’s friends with all kinds of people who could make this a real spectacle—famous actors, other athletes, and even some politicians. Who knows what she’ll rope into this mess?”
February 6, 6:00 AM. Cheryl Hill estate, Mansion and Estate District of Dreamside.
Cheryl paces around her art studio in the main building with a satisfied smile. She wears a bright red dress. Cheryl taps Aria’s contact and brings the phone to her ear. After a few rings, Aria’s voice comes through.
“Yeah?”
Cheryl smirks. “Nice to hear you’ve been up for a while. So, getting back to our 1:00 AM chat… I’ve got an idea for your little plan with Alex, Kate, and Brian. Your attempt to hook yourself up with Alex while locking Kate in with Brian, still leaving room for you too. But if you’d rather keep playing on Alex’s nerves, pushing him further away with your crude moves of shoving Kate under Brian, then fine. I’m hanging up.”
Cheryl says it with a sly tone. Aria lets out a low chuckle on the other end. “Cheryl, you’re such a fucking voyeur. I should’ve known you’d obsess over this. Look, the cameras in their suite were a brilliant move on your part, but I’m the one who orchestrated everything from the beginning on September 2, 2023. Brian is a black bull with a perfect dick, and I needed Kate to see that. The party that lasts two days gives me the perfect moment, and I take advantage of it.”
Cheryl’s face tightens slightly as she leans against a desk covered in rough sketches of paintings. “So modest. Tell me, do you enjoy watching Brian pound your sweet blonde friend into the huge red four-poster bed last night? I bet you get wet just thinking about it.”
Aria’s voice carries a note of amusement. “Oh, Cheryl… I know Brian destroys her right there in that suite. Kate has never had a black cock before. For four years she stays with Alex and his tiny white dick. I want her to understand what she’s been missing.”
Cheryl exhales sharply through her nose. “Oh, come on… I’ve figured you out. So you’re still pretending this is all about Kate and not about Alex?”
Aria doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course it’s about Alex. Brian is the tool I use to pry Kate away. But hey, if Kate wants to stay with Alex, that’s fine. I won’t force her hand. I just want her to have an experience with a real man before she makes her final decision.”
Cheryl moves to the window overlooking the meticulously landscaped grounds of her estate. The sunrise paints the sky in pastel pinks and oranges. “And if she chooses Brian, you really think you can just step in and take Alex for yourself?” She speaks with an edge of challenge.
Aria laughs softly. “I wouldn’t step in, Cheryl. I’d let you do all the work.”
The line stays silent for a beat as Cheryl lets that sink in. She crosses her arms and taps one manicured finger against her elbow. “You really are something else, aren’t you? Sending your boyfriend to sleep with your best friend and now dangling Alex in front of me like some kind of trophy that’s almost in your hands…”
“I didn’t send him anywhere,” Aria corrects, amused. “Brian pursues Kate at every party in Château des Rêves because he likes her. And I think we both understand that Kate deserves Brian.”
Cheryl’s lips curl into a smirk. “But do you deserve both Brian and Alex? You’re not Alex’s type, Sweet Cocoa. Kate is, though. She’s clearly… mother material. I already told you that. What, you don’t have any counterarguments again?”
Aria’s chuckle sounds on the other end. “Oh, I have plenty of counterarguments. First, Alex and Kate’s relationship has been toxic for years. Second, Brian loves me and adores Kate. Third, I know exactly what I want and I’m getting it.”
Cheryl’s eyes narrow as she leans against the window frame and presses the phone to her ear. “Toxic? How exactly is their relationship toxic, Cocoa? Because from where I stand, Alex worships the ground Kate walks on. He does anything for her.”
Aria pauses for dramatic effect before responding. “Because he’s weak. Because he can’t give her what she needs. Because he’s holding her back from her full potential.” Her voice carries a sharp edge. “Alex needs to learn his place, and I’m here to help with that lesson.”
There’s a brief silence before Cheryl’s voice takes on a new tone, one that suggests she’s caught something interesting. “What exactly do you think Brian can give her that Alex can’t?”
Aria’s silence hangs in the air for a long moment before she answers with quiet resolve. “Freedom. Stability. Passion without control. A future that doesn’t revolve around Alex’s comfort.” Her words carry an edge that suggests she’s been waiting to say this for a while. “Brian has his own money, his own career, his own drive. He’s not waiting for someone else to validate him. He doesn’t need to cling to Kate like Alex does.”
Cheryl laughs into the phone. “Oh god, Ari, stop. A little more and you won’t convince me you don’t have bipolar disorder. Right now you’re talking like you hate Alex. But a few hours ago you confessed to me that you like him. So why do you need a ‘fake man’ who isn’t right for Kate?”
“I don’t hate him,” Aria says, her words softening. She exhales dramatically into the phone, as if weighing how much to admit. “I just don’t think he deserves her. And more importantly, I don’t think she deserves to be tied down by his… his delicate sensibilities.”
Cheryl moves away from the window and stretches as she crosses her art studio. “So what? You’re suddenly the arbiter of who’s worthy of Kate’s love? Since when did you give a shit about anyone’s happiness except your own?”
Aria scoffs. “I care, Cheryl. I care more than most people realize.” She shifts on the bed, sheets rustling. “ Kate deserves someone who pushes her. Who doesn’t tiptoe around her like she’s made of glass. Brian knows what he wants, and he goes for it.” Cheryl giggles into the phone.
“Okay, we’ve sorted Kate and Brian. Now why do you think you’re the perfect fit for Alex with his ‘delicate sensibilities’? I need to know your real motives if I’m gonna help you, Sweet Cocoa.”
Aria lets out a long sigh. Her fingers fidget with the hem of her white sleep shirt as she sprawls across the bed. She speaks quieter now. “I like Alex, Cheryl. I always have.” She rolls onto her side and stares up at the ceiling of her Cocoavilla penthouse. “But it’s not like you think. I don’t want to take him from Kate. God, that would be so messy.”
She chews on her lower lip. “But I could help him. In ways Kate never will.” She exhales through her nose and closes her eyes briefly. “He’s so fragile. So careful. And maybe I want to see what happens when someone treats him like he isn’t made of porcelain.” She pauses. “Maybe I want to see if he can handle being handled.”
Cheryl hums softly. “Hmm… Don’t you think he really is made of porcelain? Panic attacks, all that endocrine shit… Maybe there’s even more we don’t know about.”
“Kate and Madi pulled him out of that hole. And you could shove him right back in.”
Aria exhales sharply, the phone crackling from her restless movements. “I wouldn’t do that, Cheryl. God.” Her voice carries a raw edge. “I know he’s complicated. And fuck, if I pushed too hard he might break. But that’s the point, isn’t it? You don’t just let a guy like Alex exist in a bubble.”
She stretches her arms above her head, her shirt riding up to show the curve of her waist. “Maybe he needs someone who’ll see all the parts of him he doesn’t even know are fragile.” Her voice turns breathless. “Maybe he needs someone bold enough to test those limits. Like he needs to be tested.”
Cheryl whistles softly, amused. “Alright. I get you, Sweet Cocoa. So, are you ready to hear my proposal?”
“As you can probably guess, it’ll be an experiment in the form of a small party. A very small party, because there’s no way to lure Alex to a big one. The whole trick is convincing everyone… Oh, you have no idea what this is gonna be…”
Aria breathes in sharply, her fingers tightening around the phone for a second before relaxing. “Tell me.”
“It’s simple,” Cheryl says. “We need a very small group of guys and girls. We pair you up: you with Alex, Kate with Brian, the rest with each other and…” Cheryl pauses. “We bury you all.”
The phone falls silent for a long moment. Aria’s fingers tighten around her phone until the plastic creaks.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘bury’ us?” she asks, voice strained.
Cheryl laughs, a rich, throaty sound. “Oh, relax. Yeah, in the literal sense, but not the one you thought of. Not far from LA there’s this long-abandoned military base. My guys and I rebuilt the whole thing. Specifically for games like escape rooms, only on a much bigger scale. Now it’s a network of tunnels—bright, clean, with all the amenities. They’re just really confusing. The point is this: we split you into pairs—guy and girl. And you’ll all have to get out from there. No pair will cross paths with another. To get out, you need to get past several puzzle-traps. I’ll tell you about all of them later, Aria. But nothing dangerous. I’ll be watching all of you through hidden cameras that you won’t spot no matter how hard you try. Basically, you, Aria, will have a few days to brainwash Alex the same way you brainwashed Kate. Something like that.”
Cheryl exhales, pleased with herself. “Oh, yeah. Kate will be with Brian the whole time. Totally isolated. I’ll give them a huge room, besides the tunnels—one bed, of course. And a lot of other things that help. You know… for motivation. You and Alex will be in the same situation.”
Aria’s breath catches. She sits up slowly, the white sheets pooling around her hips, her high ponytail swaying as she leans forward. “Buried… in tunnels? With puzzles? And hidden cameras everywhere?” Her voice is low and husky. “Cheryl, you twisted bitch. That’s not a party—that’s your personal porn set.”
Cheryl’s laugh rings through the phone, rich and shameless. She toys with a lock of her fiery red hair as she saunters back to her desk. “Exactly, Sweet Cocoa. My personal live porn set. Picture it: you and Alex trapped together in those tight little rooms for days—no distractions, no way out until you crack my puzzles. He’ll be all yours: cornered, desperate, cock throbbing from the lockdown. You’ll tease him, drive him crazy until he’s on his knees begging for that signature high-ponytail blowjob you’ve been fantasizing about—your long dark hair wrapped around his fist while he fucks your mouth deep and hard.”
Aria bites her lip. A slow smile spreads across her face. Her free hand trails down her stomach, fingers dipping under the hem of her white sleep shirt. “And Kate with Brian… one bed, no way out. He’ll fuck her senseless every time they hit a dead end. That massive black cock stretching her out, making her scream his name instead of Alex’s. God, she’ll be addicted by the time we ‘escape’.”
“Precisely,” Cheryl purrs. “I’ll stock your sections with everything you need: food, water, and other stuff. The puzzles will force closeness—crawling through narrow passages, pressing bodies together to reach switches. For you and Alex, I’ll make them extra intimate. Ones that require trust.”
Aria exhales shakily, her thighs pressing together under the sheets. “He’ll hate it at first. Panic, maybe. But that’s the point, right? Break him open. Make him need me to get through it. To touch him, calm him… fuck him.” She pauses, voice dropping to a whisper. “What if he resists? Says no?”
Cheryl smirks, leaning back against the window as the sunrise breaks over her estate. “Then you back off, darling. We’re not monsters—just directors. But we both know Alex is curious under that faithful shell. Starved for attention that’s not from his Goddess. And you? You’re bold enough to give it. Rough when he needs it, sweet when he cracks.”
Aria laughs softly and rolls onto her stomach, kicking the sheets off to feel the cool air on her skin. “Fine. I’m in. When?”
Cheryl’s grin widens as she taps the sketch on her desk. “Next week, February 16, Friday.”
Aria feels a thrill run through her as she props herself up on her elbows, the morning light catching in her dark ponytail. “Friday… okay.”