Chapter 2

Think

It was 2:00 in the afternoon. Time to get up. I had a real big day ahead of me. Real exciting… I didn't even bother taking a shower. I wasn't seeing anyone that day. There was no point. All I had planned was playing Pokémon, surfing the web, and reading manga. Mom and Dad always bugged me about getting a job. I told them that I'd go job hunting. I lied that I applied for some jobs online. I never did any of that. I don't even have a résumé. It's just something I tell them to get them to shut up.

While I was getting dressed, I heard a knock on my door. "Cara? Are you in there?" It was my father. "Yeah. Come in." I said. "Cara, your mom and I worry about you sometimes. You're always locked up in your room." He said. "I like it here." I said. "I know, but you need to get out more. You should be with friends and enjoying life." "This is how I want to live, Dad. I enjoy it." Lies. I don't even know why I said it, but I lied to him. I wasn't happy. I didn't want to live like this, but I did. Why? I guess keeping things the way they were was easier than trying to do something.

"Cara, we think you might have depression. You never eat, you're always locked away, and…" "I'm not depressed, Dad. I'm fine." I said. He paused. "We set you up for a therapist's appointment. It's later today. I'll drive you there." He said. "I don't want to go." I said. "You should. We really think something's wrong with you." He said. With that, he left me.

Shit. Why the hell did he sign me up for a therapist's appointment without asking me? Was I some kind of hysterical, crazy-haired banshee to him? To be fair, I did have some bed head, but that wasn't the point. He thinks there's something wrong with me, but I sure don't. Who the hell does he think he is, deciding what's best for me?

"I think he's a moron."

It was Lucario. He materialized in front of me again. I could feel my body heating up with him just being there. Why the hell did he make me so hot? "Cara, are you feeling down?" He said. "I am, yeah." "They're all morons. They don't understand you. This whole world is just filled with a bunch of morons. I'm the only one who can truly understand you. I'm the only one who can truly love you, truly please you. They know nothing." Lucario said. I nodded. "They can all die."

Lucario smiled. Aura surged from his body. I wasn't sure why, but that made me feel real good. He grabbed me in his paws, his soft, padded, silky paws, and kissed me. Once he was done, he gave me a smile, a devious, sexy smile. "How about a buttcrush?" "I'd love that. Thank you." I said.

Buttcrush was another one of my fetishes. It was where someone either grew or shrank and the smaller one is crushed by the larger one's butt. I learned about it through the internet.

I started to shrink, down to the size of a bean. The world was so huge when I was tiny. It was incredible seeing Lucario like this. He lowered his butt. His shadow enveloped me. I could see nothing, nothing but blackness, and then the pain. Splat. Crunch. His tight little aura dog ass crashed down on me like a meteor. Every bone in my body was broken. My blood splattered all over his ass cheek. It was the best feeling ever, dying.

And then, I cried.

Back in reality, I cried. There was no shrinking. There was no Lucario. There was no stain on the floor where my tiny corpse would be. There was only me, sitting on my bed, with my finger down my pants as I cried.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

-o0o-

I stepped into my therapist's office. He was a young guy, maybe around my age, but he had all these degrees on his wall. He also had a beard. I hated guys with beards. I wasn't even sure why, but I hated them all. People with beards need to either shave or die. I just want to line up all the bearded men in the world and put a gun up to their heads and give them one last chance. If they don't shave, then I kill them, end of story.

"Hello, Cara. I'm Dr. Silverman. It's good to meet you." He extended his hand. Crap. I gave him the limpest, clammiest, most unsatisfying handshake I could. "Your father told me a little bit about you. He says that you're depressed." He said. "I'm not depressed." I lied. "Well, okay. Tell me a bit about yourself. I want to hear your side of the story." "What, you mean my life? It's boring. You don't want to hear it." I said. He laughed. "I sat through The English Patient and loved it. Nothing is boring to me." Dr. Silverman said.

My life's story… Crap, I didn't want to think about that. I hated talking about myself. It made me feel awful. I wasn't even sure why, but I hated it. …I guess I could give it a try. Dad paid good money to get me in this idiot's office, so I might as well run with it.

"I was born in 1988. My earliest memory is from when I was a toddler. I was watching TV while jumping on the couch. Mom was telling me to stop." "Is this a good memory?" "I guess, yeah. I was having fun, but Mom was mad because she didn't want me to ruin the furniture." Dr. Silverman smiled. "Yeah, I liked to raise hell when I was a kid too. I liked to wrestle with my brother all the time. It was real fun, but always ended with a skinned knee or a black eye."

After that, Dr. Silverman asked me some other questions, like if I used any drugs, drank alcohol, used tobacco, or any of those over vices that "normal" people had. I hated normal people so much. They could never understand what it is like to be me. They try to act like life is so easy, like you can just breeze through it and have fun. Fuck those idiots. They don't know. They'll never know. Fuck them all to Hell.