As one of my most upvoted stories, ‘Happy Little Helper’ will be the first truly long-form I will publish this year. It will be 40,000-50,000 words (150-200 pages), between a novel and a novella.
As subscribers, you will receive three exclusive, standalone excerpts before publication, following Valerie’s slow, unsettling repurposing in the first part of her story.
This excerpt is ~1,850 words (10 pages), offering a 6 to 11-minute read depending on your preferred pacing. For context, these are currently draft Chapters 4 and 5, set towards the beginning of Valerie’s subtle, chemical brainwashing. Take it as the carefully orchestrated first steps of her slow, insiduous transformation.
There are no clocks at Olympus. No schedules, no numbers.
Valerie does not know how long she has been here.
Five days? Ten? Twenty? Maybe more…
She only knows that when Megan and Emily enter her suite that morning, it is with purpose, yet without urgency.
‘We’re going to take your things now,’ Megan says, gathering the folded blouses, pencil skirts, heels—everything that had once defined her in Geneva.
Sitting naked against the padded headboard, Valerie watches as the last remnants of her old life are lifted away, her delicate hands resting lightly against her thighs, fingers twitching slightly as if they should reach, should stop this.
But she does not stop them.
‘It’s part of your journey. Of the decluttering of your mind,’ Emily explains, placing a soft, folded bathrobe in Valerie’s lap. ‘You can always have them back later, if you ever wish.’
If she ever wishes.
The phrase sits strangely in Valerie’s mind.
***
Landon Bisset steps inside, and suddenly, everything else fades—the morning light, the softness of her bed, the warmth of her hot chocolate still lingering on her tongue.
The feeling is overwhelming, unexpected in its intensity. She feels it in her chest, in her stomach, in the delicate shiver along her spine.
He is the reason that she is here.
He is the reason she feels light, cherished, whole.
And in that moment, she wants—she needs—him to know how much she appreciates him.
More than that. She wants him to be as blissfully happy as he has made her. Happier even, if at all possible.
‘Valerie,’ he chimes, his voice smooth, deep, warm.
She gets up instinctively, wearing nothing but a smile, suddenly aware of how small she feels in his presence, how soft and delicate she must look.
‘Sir,’ she says, dipping her chin.
His lips curve slightly in approval as he studies her, his gaze lingering on her breast, then sliding down her waist, her private parts, her legs.
‘You’re looking well,’ he says. ‘Better than before.’
A flush of something warm spreads through her, something close to pride.
(via secure online reader)