Tinsley's hands, small but unnervingly strong, slid lower, mapping Ned's body like a cartographer charting unexplored territory. Her touch was clinical, precise, and all the more unsettling for it.
"Did you know," she whispered, her breath hot against Ned's ear, "that you're exactly 5.73 inches when relaxed? But don't sell yourself short, darling. I've calculated your potential."
Ned stiffened, and not in the way Tinsley was apparently measuring. "Christ on a bike, Tinsley! That's—"
"Shh," she hushed, pressing a pruned finger to his lips. "I'm not finished. Your girth is particularly interesting. 4.1 inches around, but with a fascinating asymmetry. The left side is 0.02 inches thicker than the right. I've been wondering if that affects your trajectory when—"
"Stop!" Ned yelped, trying to squirm away but finding himself trapped between Tinsley's body and the tub. "This isn't okay, Tinsley. You can't just... measure people without their consent!"
Tinsley giggled, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles like the laugh track from some demented sitcom. "Oh, Ned. Consent is such a fuzzy concept in DEADLOCK, isn't it? Besides, I didn't use a ruler. I calculated everything by eye. Impressive, right?"
Ned felt his stomach lurch. The idea of Tinsley studying him so intently while he was unaware sent chills down his spine that had nothing to do with the cooling bathwater.
"That's not the point," he growled, trying to muster some authority despite his vulnerable position. "It's invasive and—"
"Did you know your testicles are slightly uneven too?" Tinsley continued, as if Ned hadn't spoken. "The left hangs 0.3 inches lower than the right. It's adorable, really. Like a little wink from Mother Nature."
Ned closed his eyes, wishing he could sink into the bathwater and disappear. His earlier urge to increase boinkboink status was gone. But Tinsley wasn't done.
"Oh, and let's not forget the birthmark," she cooed, her hand drifting dangerously close to the area in question. "A perfect little Australia, right there on your—"
"Enough!" Ned roared, finally finding the strength to push Tinsley away. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub as he scrambled to his feet, dignity be damned.
Tinsley looked up at him, her eyes wide and hurt behind the fogged scuba mask. "But Ned, I was just getting to the good part. Did you know that when you're aroused, your—"
"I don't want to know!" Ned bellowed, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. "This isn't love, Tinsley. It's not even lust. It's fucking madness!"
As he stormed out of the bathroom, leaving a puzzled Tinsley still sitting in the tub, Ned couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just escaped something far more dangerous than any corporate scheme.
'What the hell have I gotten myself into?' he thought, his heart pounding. 'And more importantly, how the fuck do I get out?'
Ever since they found out his true identity as Ned Wyatt – the veteran gamer, he'd gained their insane affection more so than his avatar ever could. If he knew his previous self was this popular, he sure wouldn't have had a miserable social life.
But how would he have known if he was always locked up in his mama's basement? Besides, his avatar was the one stacking up on all the popularity. And it wasn't a thing to seek out the player of a popular character, or so he thought.
Ned's hand was on the doorknob, freedom just a twist away, when he heard it. A soft, metallic clink that cut through the air like a knife through butter. His blood ran cold.
'Don't turn around,' he thought. 'Just walk out. Whatever it is, it can't be good.'
But his body betrayed him, pivoting slowly to face the tub. What he saw made his heart stop dead in his chest.
Tinsley sat there, water lapping at her boobs, a serene smile on her face. And dangling from her neck, like some twisted sense of a fashion accessory, was a grenade. The pin gleamed in the harsh bathroom light, taunting him.
"Going somewhere, darling?" Tinsley's voice was honey-sweet, with an undercurrent of madness that made Ned's balls try to crawl back into his body.
"Tinsley," he said slowly, as if talking to a rabid dog, "what the fuck are you doing?"
She giggled, the sound bouncing off the tiles like broken glass. "Isn't it pretty? I thought it brought out my eyes."
Ned's mind raced. This was bad. This was beyond bad. This was—I've died and gone to some special hell reserved for idiots who get involved with crazy women—kind of bad.
"It's... lovely," he managed, his mouth dry. "Why don't you take it off, and we can talk about this?"
Tinsley's eyes narrowed. "Take it off? Oh no, no, no. This stays right where it is unless you get your cute little tush back in this tub."
Ned's eyes darted to the door. He could make it. Probably. Maybe. But if he was wrong...
"You wouldn't," he said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were a lie. This was Tinsley. Of course she would.
As if reading his mind, Tinsley's fingers danced along the grenade's pin. "Try me," she purred.
Ned felt the fight drain out of him. "Alright," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright. Just... don't do anything stupid, okay?"
"Me? Stupid?" Tinsley laughed. "Never. Now, in you pop. We were just getting to the good part."
With leaden feet, Ned approached the tub. He let the towel drop, revealing a stiff member between his legs, too numb to care about modesty, and stepped back into the cooling water.
Tinsley clapped her hands in delight, the grenade bouncing obscenely between her large breasts. "Oh goodie! Now, where were we? Ah yes, I was telling you about your arousal patterns."
Ned closed his eyes, wishing for death. Or a sudden power outage. Or an alien invasion. Anything to end this nightmare. He would have been delighted if she wasn't such a creep.
"Did you know," Tinsley continued, oblivious to his distress, "that when you're excited, you grow an additional 2.87 inches in length? And your girth! Oh, don't get me started on your girth. It's like watching one of those nature documentaries where the pufferfish inflates."
"Tinsley," Ned groaned, "please. This isn't—"
"And the angle!" Tinsley exclaimed, her eyes shining with manic glee. "22.5 degrees to the left. Every time. It's fascinating, really. I've been compiling a database of your erections. Would you like to see my spreadsheets?"
Ned's eyes snapped open. "You've been what?"
Tinsley waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't look so shocked. It's all in the name of science. And love, of course. Mostly love. With a bit of obsession thrown in for flavor."
"This isn't love," Ned said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is... I don't even know what this is."
Tinsley's face fell, her lower lip quivering. "Not love? But Ned, I've memorized every inch of you. Every freckle, every scar, every beautiful imperfection. How is that not love?"
Ned sighed, suddenly feeling very, very tired. "Love isn't about measurements or databases, Tinsley. It's about connection, understanding, mutual respect."
For a moment, Ned was shocked himself. What did he – an antisocial hermit who had never dated – no about love?
"Oh," Tinsley said, her brow furrowing. "So... you're saying if I respect your personal space and stop measuring you without permission, you'll love me back?"
For a moment, hope flared in Ned's chest. "Well, it would be a start—"
"Nah," Tinsley interrupted, her manic grin returning full force. "That sounds boring. I prefer my way. Now, let me tell you about the fascinating mole just inside your tushy"
As Tinsley launched into another detailed description of his anatomy, Ned let his head sink below the water. The muffled sound of her voice was almost peaceful, in a deranged sort of way.
'I should have stayed in my old life,' he thought. 'Sure, it was boring, but at least no one threatened to blow themselves up to get me in the tub.'
'But when have I ever had a girl fondle me before?'Ned asked himself before running out of oxygen. As he resurfaced, gasping for air, and saw Tinsley's beaming face, he realized part of him, some twisted, masochistic part, was enjoying all this.
***