My Roomate is a camgirl, Part 3 The Dreaded Words (Patreon)

The distant clattering of keyboards filled the office room as Mason stared dully at the screen of his terminal.  In front of him was a spreadsheet, annotating various columns, graphs, and lines of revenue and expenditures from the company he worked for.  He ran a hand back through his dual-colored hair, eyes slightly glazing over as he reread a specific line for what had to be the tenth time.  And people thought a tabletop gaming company was all fun and games: people just playing, testing, writing content, and being stereotypical strategy/wargame nerds.  No one ever paid attention to the costs and stats of having to sustain a business like this.

His eyes panned over the back corner of the room, where several tables had been arrayed.  Around them clustered groups of his coworkers, using sticks, hands, little platforms, or magnets to move the miniatures on their assorted battlefields around.  A cry of excitement came from one table, and the onlookers all clapped, groaned, or laughed.  Several of them even took notes on clipboards or phones while the two players continued their furiously silent assault against one another's tiny assorted armies.

Ok, so maybe part of the job for some people here was fun and games.  But that wasn't his department.  He wasn't much of a fan of those wargames, although sometimes when Mark or Jeb were playing he would stop by and see what fresh horrors they had thought up to playtest.  Their costs were always, at least, minimal.  It was when their paperwork was sent into the 3-D Printer department that things got expensive quickly: printing and manufacturing mini after mini.

Returning to his spreadsheets, Mason tried to put his mind entirely onto balancing and checking the numbers in front of him.  As it ever had all morning however, his attention kept slipping, away from the slightly chilly office, packed full of clattering keyboards, laughter, and the buzz of conversation, away to a place that was warm, and soft, and quiet.  A soft brushing of his hair had him completely and utterly relaxed as he nuzzled into something plush and sweet-smelling.  He could feel the rise and fall of something or someone nearby, the warmth of their presence like a security blanket as his head rested on some of the softest yet firmest pillows he'd ever felt in his life.  Thick fur, like a fluffy blanket, surrounded him, and he felt like he could have drifted off right there...

A heavy smack on the back of his chair sent him reeling back into reality, jerking in his chair and almost falling out of it.  He looked around, bleary-eyed, startled, and confused.  His gaze fell upon the culprit of the prank, currently laughing his ass off, and his eyes narrowed.  "Oscar..." he grunted at his coworker, unamused.

Oscar Odds, a taller, lanky but square-shouldered man and fellow analytics and accounting worker, beamed down at his sullen, unkempt appearance.  His blonde hair was done through with highlights that made him look like a 30 year old man attempting to impersonate a member of a boy band.  Dressed in a similar workshirt but without a tie and the collar popped open so he looked more 'rakish', Oscar oozed the air of someone trying desperately to be thought of as the 'cool guy'.

He hung around Mason quite a lot, as if anyone comparing the two of them would obviously find Oscar to be the superior model: admittedly tall, charismatic, tons of energy, and a personable smile, while Mason was shorter, skinny, sullen, and well known to be a grump.  If only Oscar put the same amount of effort into his work as his façade of being 'the bro'.  Also women.  The guy had an obsession with girls, not flirting with them, but fantasizing and obsessing over them.  It wasn't repellant but it wasn't very endearing either.

"Falling asleep on duty?" he teased Mason cheekily.  "Won't look too good when I'm floor supervisor, Maze."  He winked then, as if they were sharing a secret.  "But for a good bro, I'll let it slide."

"I am forever in your debt, oh great Oscar the Overlord," muttered Mason.  He yawned then, hiding it behind a fist, and then returned his eyes to the screen.  The numbers immediately all blurred together again and his head swam.  He wanted nothing more than to just call in and go lie down.

"Eyy, Overlord is a good tag name..." Oscar mused then grinned.  "Nah but seriously, bro, you look like crap.  Take a break and come get some coffee with me, aight?"

There, at least, was an unobjectionable idea.  Mason turned his chair around, facing away from the screen, and looked up at his coworker.  His eyes tiredly scanned the man's less than well-kept but also disgustingly charismatic appearance.  There was a man who probably got plenty of hours of sleep and didn't have a disgustingly beautiful Anthro woman as a roommate to worry about and stress himself to death about his attraction to her airheaded ways.

"Coffee is the life-juice of my soul," Mason returned and Oscar immediately grinned.  He stood up and the two guys made their way towards the break room.  They passed multiple other desks, Oscar smiling and joking with all of them.

"Yo Ozz!" called one other man, a thicker-set guy named Keywhy, or at least that's what his personalized nametag said.  He was IT, not accounting or a tester, so he always had his headset on over his admittedly greasy looking hair.  It was hard not to judge people, Mason knew, and he wasn't proud that he always did so.  It only was made better at least that he judged himself most of all.

"Eyy, Keymaster!" Oscar returned, stopping to bump fists with the guy.  "What up?"

Keywhy grinned, showing his teeth and gestured at his phone.  "The stream is up," he commented, wiggling his thick caterpillar eyebrows above his heavy black glasses.

Mason had no idea what that meant, but Oscar immediately pepped up even more than he was.  "Noooo way!" he cheered.  "Badass...oh man it never disappoints, amirite?!"  He highfived Keywhy again.  He immediately began digging out his own phone as he and Mason kept walking to the breakroom.

They were alone when they reached it and Mason wasted no time in pouring himself a cup of sweet, dark brown brew.  He inhaled the scent as he waited for it to cool in the company logo-emblazoned white mug, letting the warmth seep into his hands.  He glanced over to see Oscar leaning against the counter, staring raptly at his phone with a big grin on his face.

Mason shrugged and didn't give it much thought, until Oscar whistled.  "Ohhh man, there was a good one..." he chortled.  A second later he gave another whoop.  "The laws of physics are defied once again!  This is awesome."

Glancing over, the shorter accountant threw his coworker a quizzical eye.  "What on earth are you watching?" he asked.

Oscar froze for a second, glancing at Mason before he shrugged, almost seeming suspiciously innocuous.  "Just a gaming stream," he uttered.  He again glanced at the screen and his eyes dilated slightly.  His smile turned startlingly more into a slight leer before he fixed his face.  "It's a really intensive one."

Mason ordinarily wouldn't have given two shits about whatever Oscar decided to busy his time with when on break, and was just thankful for the coffee.  He took a slow, careful sip, just as the livestream on Oscar's phone chimed with an update.  "Hey there, all my lovelies!" spoke a voice from the phone.  "Sadly I need to get going, I have a big evening planned after all."  Mason paused, cup still lifted to his lips.

Oscar let out a groan.  "Man...damnit.  Just when it was getting good."  His fingers flashed across the screen, tapping out a message to the streamer.

"Aww you're all so sweet," said the voice, sounding genuinely endeared to their viewers.  It was an obviously female voice, confident, playful, even a touch flirty.  Still, it sounded so familiar, even with Oscar's crappy speakers.  "But sadly, I do have to eventually do the adulting things and take care of myself.  Showers and stuff, all that jazz.  No no, lovelies, while I appreciate the offers, this girl flies solo."  The phone glinged as Oscar, and most likely dozens of people, typed out rapid comments that Mason did not need to guess what they'd intend.  "Donate to the recent Post and y'all should be very happy," laughed the woman.  "Here is a sneak peek, but official views are limited of course to donations.  Ciao for now, lovelies.  Mercy-Killer, out!"

Letting out a deep sigh, and his face suspiciously glazed over as he watched the end of stream before clicking away from it, Oscar barely seemed aware of still being there in the break room.  Mason cleared his throat and the man visibly started.  His face actually went a bit red.  "Sorry," he admitted.  "Girl gamers are like...top 10 hottest things in the world."

Shrugging, and truly unable to contest that, Mason nonetheless fixed his coworker with a severe, if bored-looking eye at his antics.  "Just make sure the bosses don't see you watching that sort of stuff, or you can kiss the title Overlord goodbye before you ever get it."

Grimacing, Oscar waved his hands, one still holding the phone.  "Nah nah, man!" he protested.  "She ain't that kind of streamer...I mean sure she dresses all sexy and flirts and soft-flashes people when they donate stuff occasionally.  And yeah she's hot as all damn hell," his eyes glazed partially over again and he glanced at his screen at an alert.  "You...want proof?"  He honestly looked like he was worried that Mason would report him if he didn't make some sort of effort in proving he wasn't watching some NSFW content.

"No, not really," Mason retorted.  He liked beautiful women as much as the next man, but getting hard-up over some e-girl who most likely just used her body in a progressive market to take advantage of dumb guys like Oscar wasn't a helpful remedy at all to his existing, overpowering infatuation with his own, often scantily-dressed gamer girl roommate.  He couldn't even really judge the girl, whoever she was, for finding a source of revenue that let her do the things she loved while also making money with minimal effort, but he also couldn't respect it much either.

Oscar glanced at the phone again and then sighed.  "Aight, bro," he muttered.  He clicked something on the screen and then his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.  He quickly hid the phone against his chest and chuckled nervously at Mason's obviously aware look he flashed him.  He was fidgeting hard as if stuck somewhere in indecision, still torn between worries and ideas.

Rolling his eyes, Mason finally relented.  He was...not entirely in the best of moods but if it made Oscar stop acting so weird, and sure maybe he'd get to see a cute girl, maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.  "Look, it just isn't all that acceptable to try and offer when it's pretty obvious what you're doing," Mason told him sternly.  "This is a workplace, and while I'm nowhere near in charge of you, you'd get in serious trouble if someone saw you watching whatever you were.  Especially if it was Amelia in HR."

"You...really think it'd go that bad, bro?" Oscar asked.  He was obviously nervous.

"You don't think it would go badly if someone saw you looking at whatever you really shouldn't be while at a public workplace, where there are actual gamer women here with fully paying jobs that could take offense to your little stream?" Mason jabbed then rolled his eyes as Oscar wilted somewhat.  "Look, I don't care what you do with your personal time and money, but I don't want to see you fired for some sexual harassment stuff, okay?"

"Awww..." Oscar crooned and suddenly Mason was being pulled into a rough hug.  "You do care, underneath all that Grouch-Grinch energy of yours!"  He nuzzled Mason's long hair with a fist.

He slapped the taller man off of him, face heated.  "If I don't report you for it first," he glowered.  His eyes flickered, just once, down at the phone where it was visible before he made to step back from the still grinning Oscar.  Mason froze as his eyes locked onto the still image on the bright flashing screen.  In a flash, his bandaid-festooned hand shot out and nabbed the device from Oscar.  He lifted it to his nose, staring wide-eyed at the image.

Oscar jumped slightly then actually chortled.  "Wow, talk a big game but see one big pair of floofers and you abandon all pretense of being better than just another guy."  He laughed more.  "Can't blame you though, she's pretty perfect."

Mason didn't respond.  He stared, unblinking, at the woman posing in the shot, towel artfully placed as it dangled from her fluffy, fully-formed, Anthro beauty.  It was a wonder how the photo had even been taken, soft-core as it was, since one move and everything would have been revealed.  She was even posed to assist in that, eyes tracking all over one lifted, thickly furred and muscular leg, her belly spilling over slightly into her lap and concealing the obviously barren triangle underneath.  She held the phone up in one big paw, angling the shot down past her grinning muzzle and long, disheveled dark hair that perfectly framed her lighter-toned furry Canine muzzle and gleaming, bright eyes.  The towel hung off the mountainous shelf of her chest, the side exposed from the angle and only the bare minimum covered as it hung on seemingly by the thick fur's grip alone.

Oscar whistled from somewhere nearby.  "Umm...hello...Earth to Maze..." he muttered.  "You gonna be good bro?  I can send you the gal's streamer link and source page if you wanna donate to get a few photos like that yourself."  He chuckled then.  "God knows you could use a girlfriend, online or otherwise."

Mason again stayed silent, mind racing, head swimming.  His chest was tight and his hand holding the phone trembled noticeably.

Oscar, however, was as dense as ever, still describing things that if not for who it concerned, Mason would never have cared about and turned a blind ear to.  "I wouldn't get my hopes up about her though, man," he continued.  "She's broken all our hearts, given that she's apparently got some super lovey-dovey boyfriend.  She's always going on about how he's the only one who gets to see the full goods.  I wish I could say that I've seen at least some of em, I've done private shows and even gamed with her a time or two, but she's hardcore loyal, not to mention I couldn't beat her if my life depended on it."

That seemed to finally help snap Mason out of his daze and he looked up.  "When...was this...?" he asked, voice mangled in how soft it was and barely audible but also rough.

"The stream bro?" he asked.  "Today man.  She's got some crazy schedule, but makes serious bank.  Wish guys could do the same... playing games all day, breaking hearts..."  He glanced then at Mason's face and actually balked.  "Shit man, you okay?  You look like you're about to be sick."

Mason shook his head, tongue tingling and feeling like it had been dipped in acid.  The coffee tasted bitter and black on his tongue now.  He could barely get up the will to respond let alone speak right now.

Oscar actually narrowed one eye suspiciously.  "Something you're not telling me dude...you're not..." he leaned in conspiratorially.  "You're not one of those...HUAA guys are you?"

That made Mason suddenly snap back to focus.  His eyes hardened and he glared up at the now wide-eyed Oscar.  "I'd never be one of those terrorist, racist assholes," he growled savagely, drawing a few looks from people walking past the break room.  He quickly shut his mouth as Oscar waved the people away, an expert in diverting attentions.  "I just...I just wished she'd...told me or...something..." he muttered underneath his breath.

Oscar's hearing must have been impeccable because he suddenly grabbed a hold of Mason's shoulders through his shirt.  "Wait, her tell you what?" he demanded.  His eyes went wide and his smile was way too bright.  "Do you know Mercy-Killer?!"  Mason tried to hide his reaction at the now obvious play on his roommate's name but he'd never had a good poker face.  Or at least, he had reserved it all this time to hide from her how he obviously felt and it was clearly written all over his face that he did indeed know her.  "Noooooo way!" Oscar hissed.  "Dude you gotta introduce me!  You think she would sign one of her photos for me?  She is like the sweetest hot piece I ever seen, I'd love nothing more than to bury my face in-"

Fire surged inside of Mason and he gripped the coffee mug so hard in his fist that he wouldn't have been surprised if it shattered.  He shoved his face right up in front of Oscar's and growled, actually growled, cutting his coworker off mid-sentence, "Do not..." he snarled.  "Finish.  That.  Sentence."

Oscar mimed speaking, mouth opening and closing at the sudden fire and venom burning in Mason's gaze.  "W-woah woah little dude," he muttered sheepishly.  "I didn't mean to offend or anything.  I'm just..."  He held up his hands and Mason leaned away from him, still glaring and muttering.  "I'm just shocked my introvert coworker knows the hottest local streamer."

"She's not the hottest local streamer..." Mason snapped softly.

"Dude, okay, you can be a prude all you want, but you cannot deny how bodacious and thicc that woman is.  She's got bad girl vibes written all over her good girl face and..."  One look at Mason's expression made Oscar wisely clam up again.

"She's.  My.  Roommate..." snarled out Mason savagely.  He reached up and grabbed the front of Oscar's rumpled shirt front.  Exhaustion and anger blazed inside of him, warring with despair and all sorts of frustrating, confusing, terrifying emotions.  "And you won't say a word about that to anyone... got it?"

"G-got it..." Oscar murmured.

Letting go of his shirt, Mason walked to the sink and dumped out his coffee.  Then he stalked past Oscar, throwing him back his own phone which the man barely caught.  "I'm leaving for the day," he snapped, to which Oscar just numbly nodded.  He clocked out on his computer, fingers and eyes hazy and uncoordinated.  His legs carried him with furious speed out of the room and down the hall, drawing concerned, worried, or confused glances from everyone he passed until he was finally alone.

Only then, when he was safely outside of the company building and bright afternoon sunshine was blazing in his face, did his trembles begin.  He wavered his way over to a nearby bench and sank onto it.  His vision was blurry and his face hot and tight.  He bit his lower lip hard, so many months of uncertainty and emotional backwash pent up inside of him.

What was wrong with him?  So what if his roommate, who he had pined and yes gazed adoringly upon in both real life and dreams, was a Cam-girl?  So what if she had found a source of revenue that apparently allowed and explained her extravagant, live-in lifestyle while also buying and furnishing their flat with the latest in tech, memorabilia, baubles, collectibles, and such?  So what if she used the massive and bountiful charms she had been given by genetics to the best of her ability without sullying herself by doing something worse?

No.  It wasn't any of that, he told himself.

Boyfriend.  It was that line that somehow hurt more than any of it.  All of it hurt and he could lie and tell himself he was being stupid and male and judgmental, that all of that before that one detail was his personal problems to overcome.  But boyfriend.  A loyal boyfriend.  Admittedly one he'd never heard of, or met, but that wasn't the issue.  Online was still a relationship.  The fact that she was so loyal to him even with her extra content, she only ever showed him the full package; it made him respect her all the more.

No.  It was that morning that made that one word burn inside of him so much, making his eyes sting.  The closeness.  The fondness.  The way he had let someone so perfect slip through his fingers without once getting up the courage to just finally tell her the truth.

"Mercy, I want to be with you.  I know it's fast, and sudden, and that I'm the farthest thing from the perfect guy you deserve, but I know this isn't just me liking you or having a crush.  I can never stop thinking about you, about how much you get to me, how much you get me in general.  We already live together like we've been a couple for years, and you support me.  You make me feel special, appreciate me.  I'm only hard on you because I worry about you so much and I hide it behind being all grumpy.  The truth is...I adore you, almost too much.  I snap at you for walking around half-naked because I feel guilty wanting to look at you and be the only guy who ever gets to see you like you are.  I want nothing more than to grab you in a hug, kiss you like crazy, or go to bed in your arms.  I want you."

His cheeks were wet as he opened up his copy and paste bar and, for the hundredth time or so it felt, pasted those words, so carefully constructed and passionately rewritten numerous times just to get them right, into the chatbox on his phone.  Her name and derpy profile picture shown up above.  His finger hovered over send, wanting more than anything to press send.  Wishing he had had the guts to say all of this.

And now he never could.  Select all.  Delete.

He stood almost drunkenly and began walking home.  He needed time to think, and although it would take him longer to get there, he needed that space and isolation to figure things out, and make peace with them.  He did manage to send one text to her.

"We need to talk."

He was about to tuck his phone into his pocket when it chimed.  He gazed at it, seeing a response already from her.  "Oh Spirits, not the dreaded words... Am I in trouble?" she asked.  Another message immediately popped into view as soon as he had finished reading it.  "I swear, I'll refill the cookie jar right now!  I won't even ask how you knew I stress-ate them all!"

He felt such a surge of gratefulness, of fondness, or desperately loving how silly she could be in response to an admittedly tense and curt sounding message.  Instead, as ever, he hid his emotions behind a stern façade, even as he did so hating himself for always having been this way with her.  If he had just opened up before, dropped this self-deprecating way of thinking and just asked her, maybe this wouldn't have happened.  "You're supposed to be asleep."

"Sorry  v.v" was her adorable response.  "I lost track of time...I did take a short nap though!  And I showered!  And cleaned!"

He stared at her words adoringly, tears still brimming in his eyes.

"Please don't be mad..." she posted.

"I'm not mad," he retorted.  "I just need to talk to you."

"Oh Spirits, you're really upset..."  He could just imagine her stressing, ears folded, tail hanging limp but twitching erratically, adorable muzzle creasing with worry.  Another message came.  "Wait aren't you supposed to be working?"

He winced.  "I wasn't feeling well, so I clocked out early and am heading home."

An immediate barrage of messages hammered his alerts, making him actually stop in his tracks to open and read them.  "Are you okay?"  "Are you feeling sick?"  "I'll cook something for you, or have it delivered.  Anything you want."  "You can rest and take it easy tonight.  We'll do whatever you wanna do."

"Mercy!" he sent back, cutting off her stream of texts.  Honestly it almost put a smile on his face.  "I'm fine, I'm just exhausted and have a lot on my mind.  But rather than rest, I just need to talk to you, okay?"  He relented a moment later and finally let part of what he was feeling slip.  "I always feel better when I talk to you."

He expected some big emotional outpouring, plenty of emojis and cute speech.  Instead, he got something infinitely better, or worse.  Either way, it just made his aching heart blaze all the more. "I do too.  I feel like I can talk to you about anything.  My nerves just usually get the best of me.  If you want to talk, we can talk.  Just promise me you're not mad at me.  I hate it when my Macey is mad."

My Macey.  His eyes stung and he bit back a venomous retort that she did not deserve or need.  "I'm not mad at you," he promised her.  "But I have some...things I need to say and some stuff I need to hear from you directly."

"Okay," was her only reply.  A while later, at least a few blocks down, she responded again.  "Can I at least cook you some dinner?"

The image of Mercy in an apron, cooking away over the stone, the very ideal of the homely, adorable, loving housewife flashed through his brain and he bit back another wave of emotion.  Regret and self-hatred warred against his mental barriers, assaulting him with vitriol that he had never even tried to make that dream a reality.  "Sure," he told her.  "Make whatever you like.  I'll always eat whatever you make for me."

"Thank my mom for the goddess-level cooking lessons.  You've seen my mom, right?"

"I definitely have seen your mom from the photos you've shown me of you and your family," he relented.  "I have her to thank for a lot about you."  His face actually blushed and then he smacked himself in the forehead.  So stupid...flirting, really?  Why was it able to happen only now, only after finding out she was completely out of his league rather than just him having no balls?!

Her response made him melt a little both inside and out.  "You are the nicest guy ever Mason, and even if I'm nervous about whatever this talk is...I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

"I'm lucky to have you in mine," he told her.  "I'll be home in a while.  See you then."  He received a final Kissing-face emoji and he had to swallow hard.  She really wasn't making this any easier.  Being so flirty...while it was amazing...didn't feel right with her having a boyfriend.  He already was rehearsing how he was going to ask her to tone it down in the future.

He only hoped this wouldn't lead to losing her as a friend too.  More than anything, even if he couldn't have her for his own, he still wanted her in his life.  And who knows, he pondered.  Maybe this would somehow make it easier?  Admit he had a thing for her, swear to stay roommates and friends, and finally just be able to handle her mannerisms.  Maybe just...minus the cuddling and cutesy stuff.

It all sounded so simple that way... except he knew it wouldn't be.  Because in the end, it wouldn't change that he still wanted Mercedes.  The dreaded words still rang in his head, as did the salacious picture of her in the bath towel and nothing else, as if it had been branded into his brain.

But, come hell or high water, he would resolve this tonight, one way or another.

TBC!