First: A story featuring a male keeper and a female Kept.
Mélanie sat with the wealth of clothes on her bed – her bed, her room – and was unsurprised when they began to carefully hang themselves. “I don’t suppose you do alterations, do you?” she asked the air. The clothes would fit her, mostly, but the very nce trousers would look nicer if they weren’t cinched in three inches with a belt.
The hanger tilted side to side thoughtfully.
“Maybe? Sort of? Requires you to talk and you’re not a big fan of talking?” Mélane guessed. She had no idea if the house could talk and, if it could, why it didn’t.
But on the last option, the hanger started tilting forward as if nodding.
“Interesting. Well, I can do a little here and there. More if you happen to have a needle and thread. I still know how to do a few things the old-school way, after all.” She was a little amused by the phrase, a little amused that she was talking to the house, a little bit trying to cope with the sheer wealth surrounding her. “You are quite a very nice hostess, you know. Well, I’m assuming -ess, and I don’t know why.”
The hanger, hung with a lovely dress that she was just dying for an excuse to wear, did a couple little dance moves in mid air. Mélanie let herself giggle out loud.
If this house did eat people, if it did send people away mindless, she thought perhaps she might find it interesting until then. Interesting, and comfortable, and altogether strange. And then she might not care at all, or she might find a way to leave before she got eaten.
It was feeling more and more like thinking mean things about someone while they were doing you a favor, however. Mélanie smiled at the – at the house? At the hanger. “You’re a lot of fun. Thank you for letting me stay here.”
The hanger did a complex loop-de-loop. Mélanie had no idea how to interpret that one. “I mean, I suppose thank you for letting Jasper live here, since I belong to him…” She lay down with a thump, letting her head bounce on the soft mattress. “Do you know, it is the first time I have said something like that and not had it send nausea through me? I mean… Well. If I had to be owned, I like being owned by him.”
The dress… nodded? She thought that was the gesture in mind. “I wish you could speak to me. I know that’s…. well. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.”
The dress danced off into the closet. For a moment, Mélanie thought that they were done with their one-sided conversation. Then a tunic lifted up and slid onto a hanger, waiting in front of Mélanie.
“Right. You don’t like talking. I’m sorry, I knew that. Thank you…. Thank you for listening.”
The shirt nodded. Mélanie figured that was going to have to be good enough for now.