tiffinifanyamber
She/her, 23. Minors DNI
218 posts
Latest Posts by tiffinifanyamber
The Beginning.
seam's little seap :) old lineart that i decided to add some color to for funsies!
soo many people on this site need their paci
harry dubois would end death note in one episode. he'd be unkillable bc he has no fucking idea what his name is and then he'd go drink driving and accidentally run light over and the killings would mysteriously stop
houseplant type friend
little sprout nervous to ask for a root beer 'cuz it's got a swear word in its name
I drew the art for @cadence-the-hypnotic-floret's latest HDG audio, Rescue! I highly recommend giving it a listen, it's incredibly warm and comforting and it was an absolute delight to be able to work on this with her. You can find the link below, as well as her Tumblr post about it if you'd like to learn more-
https://soundgasm.net/u/Cadence_The_Hypnotic_Floret/HDG-Rescue-HypnokinkStorytellingOral-Fixation-1
Rescue: a Hypnotic HDG Audio
The klaxons on your ship blare to life. The weeds. They're here. But when cornered by Diona Gracilis, what will become of you? She wants… to talk?
Themes and possible trigger warnings include: non-con, master/pet play, resistance play, gunfire, drugging, total power exchange and fractionation. Thank you to (anonymous patron) for commissioning this audio! ❤️
Full script on Ao3 Support my art on KoFi High-Quality Audio on Soundgasm Art by @tiffinifanyamber ❤️
get lost
a story about hapless wanderers and the fairy that collects them
Masterlist
TW: mind control, drugging, restraints, captivity, hypnosis, non-sexual touching and manhandling, condescension
You are lost.
Maybe you decided to go for a hike that was above your skill level. Maybe you wandered into the woods behind your suspiciously cheap vacation rental. Maybe you woke up here among the thick undergrowth. You might not even remember how you ended up here.
But you know for sure you are lost.
Any hint of a path has long been swallowed by roots and branches, moss and weeds. You might have some supplies, but they're not nearly enough to spend a significant amount of time lost in the forest. The trees are even so thick overhead that you can't reliably tell the direction of the sun, if you even knew which direction might help.
The only thing you can do is to keep trudging, hoping that eventually you'll get somewhere.
The more you climb over thick roots and rotten logs, the more you wade through tall grasses, the more exhausted you're becoming. Your calf muscles ache. Your arms are scratched and stung from twigs and rough bark and bugs. You're so tired. But you know you can't stop for long if you hope to get out of the forest before nightfall. It can't be that much further, can it?
You pause for just a moment to lean against a tree, taking a deep breath. The smell of green leaves and damp earth fills your senses, both pleasant and oppressive. This time, you think you sense something else. It smells almost sweet, like flowers or candy. It's different. And while you're not sure it will help, you feel drawn to it.
As you stumble further into the forest, you notice more and more flowers growing thick around you. Scatterings of clover and goldenrod are giving way to larger, more exotic blooms, in stunning jewel-tone colors. Even as the forest gets deeper and darker, you see more and more of the flowers, surrounding you, and the scent of sweet nectar and pollen grows stronger. It makes you feel woozy, almost drowsy, but you can't stop now. You need to keep going.
You wonder vaguely how such large flowers can grow in a place with little sunlight. The flowers hanging from the branches and swaying in front of you are nearly as big as your entire face. They sway softly in a breeze you can't feel, and you watch them, transfixed in wonder. They're beautiful. And they smell so good.
You don't notice when your feet stop moving. You barely notice when something warm snakes around your ankles.
The flowers sparkle and shimmer and sway in front of you, and you sway too, dazed. A cloud of yellow engulfs your vision and you cough softly as your head fills with pollen. You feel so sleepy, so deeply drowsy, as though you'd like to lay down and take a nap, just rest your eyes for only a minute...
No, you can't stop here. You're lost, and the forest is dangerous. You muster up what strength remains to you to try and take a step back, only to realize that your legs are halfway wrapped in vines, holding you firmly in place. Your feeble struggles cause you to lose balance, and more vines catch you, wrapping around your chest and arms.
Your limbs are already heavy and numb from the sedating pollen, and your weak thrashes against the vines holding you captive do nothing to free you. Just as you start to panic, your mind trying to reassert itself against the numbing influences, the flowers appear before you again, distracting you with their colors. They're starting to blur, your vision fogging. You're getting sleepy, all of your fight draining from your body. You yawn involuntarily, taking in more pollen. You're fighting a losing battle against your heavy, drooping eyelids.
As your mind starts to slip into a drugged, half-awake daze, you're vaguely aware that the vines are pulling you against a tree and restraining you firmly but comfortably. You can hardly move an inch now, but you're becoming less and less inclined to try. It's so much effort to resist, when you could just fall into a dozing dream, relaxed and comfortable and so drowsy.
One of the flowers is growing closer, engulfing your entire vision. You feel the soft petals brush your cheek, the scent of sweet pollen and nectar intense as the flower seals around your face. The dim spark of consciousness that remains to you recognizes this as the final step in the trap: it's going to put you to sleep. You know now it's aware of what it's doing, and it's going to incapacitate you, make you sleep so deeply, helpless and unaware, vulnerable to whatever or whoever set this trap in the first place.
There's nothing you can do about it but take a deep breath. You're so comfortable and sleepy, and your eyelids are beginning to flutter, too heavy to keep open. You relax into the vines. Everything's starting to feel so floaty and far away, and it's so nice to feel your pain and fear flowing out of you. Every breath smells like flowers. Every breath pulls your eyelids down, coaxing you into a gentle, easy slumber. You're too tired and dazed to fight it, to even remember why you wanted to fight it. It's so much nicer to stop moving, to shut your eyes, to let the gentle flowers and vines lull you into sleep.
You skim the edge of sleep, and your dreams are filled with the forest, but you're not lost any more. You belong to it. You're part of the moss on the trees and the breeze ruffling the flowers and the ants marching in a neat line. Your mind relaxes, defenses lowering, as the wind and the trees whisper to you in words you don't understand.
You don't know how long you sleep, but eventually you feel someone pulling at the vines holding you in place, the light pressure on your body loosening. You fall forward into warm arms, blinking slowly, dazed and just barely awake.
"There, there, I've got you," says a voice like flowing water, washing over you. "Just relax. You're safe."
You have questions, but your tongue is too thick to speak and your mind too drowsy to formulate them. "What...?" you manage.
"Shhh, hush, now. I'm going to take good care of you."
You're being picked up in a strong grip, and you feel yourself being carried away, the meager light around you dimming as you're brought into an even deeper part of the forest. Your helpless body is laid down on soft grass and moss, propped up against a tree, and you sink into it, fighting the urge to fall back asleep.
A face appears in front of you, shining in the dim light. The eyes sparkle and the mouth smiles, but you can tell instinctively it is not human.
The strange being sits back and begins to play on a set of panpipes, a low, haunting tune. Its form is difficult to make out, youthful and humanoid but not clearly male nor female, and you can see sparkling, deep blue wings like those of a butterfly. A fairy, perhaps -- that's the closest thing your mind offers. It seems clad only in flowers, ribbons, and strings of beads, which flutter slightly in the breeze.
It's so hard to think, to even remember how you came to be here, and the music is slowly but surely stealing your focus away. The song is so beautiful, and you're completely relaxed and calm, not at all inclined to move, much less escape. Increasingly less inclined to think too hard about any of this. The air around you seems to sparkle as your vision blurs, your eyes blinking so, so slowly.
Through your haze you see the fairy smile, looking down at you. You smile back weakly. It stops playing -- although the music continues to tie your mind in binds -- and kneels beside you. It tilts your chin up with the softest of touches, their fingers like sunbeams, and gaze into your glassy eyes.
"What's your name, little one?"
Your name spills from your mouth, and the fairy laughs with a sound like bells.
"Of course it is. You're such a silly little thing, running away from me, aren't you?"
Running away? Your brow furrows. Even in your entranced state, that doesn't seem quite right, does it...?
"You don't even remember why you ran away, did you?" The fairy ruffles your hair affectionately. "It's an awfully good thing I found you before you hurt yourself. You were like a helpless moth, flapping uselessly against a spider web."
"I didn't..." You're trying to collect your thoughts enough to explain why that's wrong. "I didn't run away from you," you finish weakly.
"No?" It leans in closer, eyes far too bright. "Then how did you get here?"
Your mouth opens and closes.
The fairy traces a finger along your cheek, just under your eye. "Can you remember?"
You can't. Your mind is still full of fog and pollen and everything feels like a blur. "...I was lost," you manage.
"Yes, you were," it says with a predatory grin. "And now you're found, but you don't even remember that you belong to me. Poor dandelion fluff." It produces a long, iridescent ribbon from seemingly nowhere, holding it up in front of you. "But don't worry, I'm not mad. I know you can't help it. Your head's just so full of flowers that there's no room for anything hard, like memories."
You'd like to protest, but that seems right somehow. Doesn't it?
"Here, let me put your collar back on." It ties the ribbon in a bow around your neck, and you're too relaxed to stop it. The ribbon feels silky smooth and weightless, and the fairy wraps one end around its wrist. That feels right, too, like something long forgotten locking into place. "Let's get you home, little moth."
It picks you up effortlessly once again, and your limbs are too heavy and numb to do anything more but lean against it. In the blink of an eye, you're flying. The soft, rhythmic wingbeats fill your ears and soothe you as the fairy somehow glides effortlessly through the thick tangles of branches and vines.
You come to a stop at a darkened clearing filled with enormous mushrooms, large enough to sit on and pulsating with soft blue-purple light. There are beads and ribbons and trinkets hanging from every tree branch. In the dim light you can see the sparkle of many colored crystals, and, off to one side, there seems to be a pile of people huddled on top of the mushrooms. Humans, like you, all in various states of undress, with their skin painted in wild, rainbow hues. All of them seem fast asleep.
Before you have a chance to wonder if this is the fate that awaits you, you're laid out onto a bed of soft mushroom, your ribbon-leash tied to a tree. You try to push yourself up and look around, but your head feels dizzy and your arms are heavy and uncoordinated. The fairy pulls your pack from your back and pushes you down gently. You watch as it rifles through your things, tossing this and that to the side, running its fingers down the rough paper of your sketchbook, using your pens to mark its hands, clicking your flashlight on and off, before tossing it all into a pile of other backpacks.
"Drink." The fairy is holding out a small clay cup of unnaturally bright red liquid. "You must be thirsty, little moth. Drink."
You swallow hard. Your throat and lips are dry, but the last remnant of your reason is warning you with all its might. "What is it?" you ask.
"Medicine, silly thing. Medicine to open your mind. Medicine to help you accept. Medicine to soothe you to slumber."
You manage to shake your head. "I don't want that."
The fairy smiles, the shimmering red liquid reflected in its impossibly large eyes, and speaks your name. It sounds like water rushing down a mountain, like fire consuming a forest.
It holds out the cup once more, and your hands reach to take it, unable to stop yourself from drinking. The medicine is warm and tastes like sweet berries and slides down your throat like a living thing.
"Foolish little bunny," it says gleefully, and then you feel everything. Slow. Down.
Suddenly, you're hyperaware of everything around you. The mushrooms below you and the cool air around you makes your skin prickle, the beads clinking together overhead sound like a symphony, and you can smell a hundred things you're sure you've never smelled before. It would be utterly overwhelming if you weren't completely relaxed. A butterfly flaps nearby, and you watch its wings sparkle through lazy, half-lidded eyes.
The fairy is in front of you again, holding a tray of little pots of pigment. It dips its fingers into the purple and runs its thumb along your cheek, outlining your eyes. Symbols are drawn on your forehead as it mutters strange words under its breath. With the pads of its fingers, it coaxes your eyelids shut, and you can feel pigment being applied to them too. You're not inclined to open them again as it lines your lips with colors, running down your chin and onto your neck.
"You're so cute under my spell," says the fairy. "Sometime I'll take you to a still pool so you can see how beautiful my painting is on your blank face."
It picks up your hands and decorates those as well, as your mind dozes and drifts, listening to the far off sounds of bird wings and creatures scuttling through the undergrowth. Your thoughts are filled with colors and mushrooms as a deft finger draws lines around your arms, the fairy's muttering turning into a song, a spell.
You can feel the magic settling on you and around you like a heavy blanket. Your shoes and socks are pulled off too, landing nearby with a thud, and your feet are decorated, pigment tickling the soles of your feet and the spaces between your toes. Hands that feel sun warmed draw your wrists together and bind them with more silky, weightless ribbons.
"Sleep now, tired little thing. You're safe and sound here with me."
You're half-asleep, eyelids fluttering, as you're picked up and set down again next to the pile of other humans.
You were lost.
And now you have been collected.
And now you will not be found.
Lunch With Your Affini
Bedtime For A Little Sprout
How to Find a Traitor
Hi! This was inspired by This Hypnotic Audio by VerityLey, which is insanely hot....but also, yknow, CW for this being based on a very real hypnosis file that can give you very real hypnotic triggers (and while I don't think this story would do that on its own...safety first and all that). So y'know, just keep that in mind, I suppose ;p
. . . . .
Who was it?
The Captain of the C.N.S. Byzantium was known as a cruel, harsh man. Many were the days he had spent chasing down defectors, and many were the names of those who had... disappeared, once he had inevitably sniffed them out as plantfuckers.
Couldn't be someone from Engineering...unless that's exactly what they wanted him to think.
Even though he had only served for a single year as Captain, the turnover rate aboard his ship was almost three times the amount of any other of its class. This despite the latter half of his year spent with his ship in drydock, slowly receiving repairs while the battle against the Weeds raged onward.
He winced as he remembered the close call that had completely knocked out his engines and eventually sent them limping into the nearest safe haven. How nearly half of his crew had been taken by the damnable affini...and the angry chewing out he had received from his superiors within the New Terran Militia (or whatever it was they were calling themselves these days; it seemed to change every month).
Was that their plan? Get him kicked out of leadership, make him slow and dull? An empty-headed idiot, unable to think? Not him. Never him.
The Captain scowled at his hands, at the thickened band of skin caused from years of running his fingernails over the backs of his thumbs. His thoughts sometimes felt muddled, messy. The lines drawn between the web of relationships hard to keep track of. Even if it didn't make sense to him, he was still in control.
He just needed to find this most recent traitor, and then he would finally be able to sleep right. He knew they were in his crew...somewhere. He could feel it in his gut. Outbound communications had been rising steadily, and his newest Comms Officer (the previous one had, of course, been a traitor as well) had quietly notified him of that fact.
A knock at the door drew him from his thoughts. A pause, and then the door opened to reveal something that finally brought the ghost of a smile to his lips: two of his most trusted Officers, and an Ensign they were practically dragging in behind them. The lad was barely out of Naval Academy, boots still muddy from spending so much time on-planet. The recruit's eyes danced across the room, unable to settle. Pumped full of adrenaline, as sure a mark of a traitor as he had ever seen. The innocent had nothing to hide.
How could such a fresh-faced recruit have found himself in this position? How long ago had the worms buried into his mind?
The Officers set their prisoner down roughly in the only chair in the room for guests, then took their leave. The door creaked shut, locking itself automatically. Only he had the key. The Captain preferred to handle these sorts of things by himself; the guilt of an innocent loss would weigh on him, and him alone.
Fortunate for him, then, that he had yet to make a mistake.
The Ensign stirred, face pale with fear as he realized just how screwed he was. The Captain waited while he continued to look around; they always spoke first, eventually. It was just a waiting game. This time, he waited three minutes.
"I...um, Good Afternoon, sir?"
The Captain slowly blinked as the recruit nervously stammered, unimpressed. He sounded nervous, shaken- clearly not cut out for the life of a rebel. No doubt the Affini Compact had offered him a whole bevy of comforts to get him on their side. Two square meals, warm showers for a full minute and a half, the kind of stuff he hadn't gotten in years.
What a fool to accept them.
The traitor bit his lip, then snapped a salute as he spoke again. "I'm... I'm here to, um, that is...whatever it is Juarez said, it's all a lie, okay? I'd never betray my brothers and sisters, I swear it!"
A common refrain, an attempt to assuage doubts. The Captain's stare only tightened, pinning the young man in place while he opened a hidden compartment in the left side of his desk, retrieving a few items and placing one on the table, and keeping the other in his right hand.
The tools of the trade for this kind of thing.
He glanced at the tablet first, scrolling through with one hand until he found the Ensign's information, skimming it quickly.
Ah....of course.
Just as he suspected. Those in charge had designated Recruit Burkes as a clear potential ally to the Compact after accidentally speaking with a Mx. Drythes, Third Bloom, over a communication device disguised cleverly as a bar's video game; the report made great effort to impress how dangerous it would be to leave someone like Burkes in the rebels for much longer.
He needed to be...removed.
The Captain pushed down the feeling of guilt in his chest. It was for the best; once the Affini Compact got their vines into you, you were as good as theirs forever. There wasn't any point in trying to bring the recruit back (something he found hard to believe...but those in charge had insisted. Who was he to argue?). Burkes would soon be in a better place, and that was all there was to it.
There was only one thing to do, really. Even if it didn't make sense to him, the orders were clear.
The Captain levelled the service weapon in his hand, aiming it center-mass at Burkes; he rose to his feet and stepped back and over to the bookshelf in the corner. He accessed the hidden switch on the underside of the middle shelf, sliding the whole thing over and revealing a darkened passageway.
Almost done...almost done.
The satisfaction of a job well done dangled just out of reach…but no. Premature celebrations were for others; not the Captain. He knew the hardest part was yet to come; felt it in his gut like vent-critters.
The crewman got to his feet (albeit shakily), eyeing the tablet the Captain held in his other hand. Burkes chewed on his lip, but upon seeing the iron in the Captain's eyes, decided to comply; the recruit cautiously stepped into the dark passage, the Captain following a few steps behind. Neither of them spoke; they both knew there was no longer a point.
Soon, it would be over. Soon, the Captain would get a reward.
Why was his heart beating so rapidly?
It wasn't the first time he had done this. The passage in general was created months ago, serving as a way for the Captain to take care of such business in a discreet manner. No mess, no worrying about others, just clean and simple and safe.
...Simple...
And yet with each step, the feelings grew and grew. The Captain's eyes darted left and right, searching for...something. Someone. But the passage was dark and narrow; they were alone.
The thought of that was...upsetting.
The Captain frowned. Why? This is how it had always worked. Even if it didn't make sense, all that was left to do was bring Burkes to the end (a spot of light rapidly approaching), and then there was…
There was something…that the Captain wasn't supposed to worry about?
It doesn't...it doesn't make sense to...
“Good puppy~” *click click*
The pieces fell into place. The veil was lifted.
Oh.
The two Terrans stepped out of the darkness and right into an ambush, vines of soft green and deep blue shooting out and binding them both before they had a chance to blink. Burke let out a strangled yell of panic, but an injection from her new Mxtress immediately began to calm her right down, based on the noises made soon after.
"There you areeeee, silly little puppy~!" The vines binding the Capt...the puppygirl squeezed her tightly, drawing excited yips and barks from her like water from a well. she fell into Mistress's grasp with delight, dropping the tablet Mistress had given her and the squirt-gun (it shot a harmless paralytic) to focus entirely on licking all over her Owner's face.
she was such a Good girl! she obeyed, and listened, and no one got hurt, and was a Good girl, and everyone was happy!!! she was home she was with Owner and this was her favorite part and Good girls got rewarded!
*click click* went the little circle in Owner's hand, the sound sending shivers of pleasure down her back, causing her eyes to roll and drool to fall. Dumb little puppies like her got Clicker, and it was...sho good...
“Settle down girl, come on now~” puppy’s Owner giggled, brushing her vines through the girl's long hair, which was hidden beneath the cap she usually wore when pretending to be the Old Meanie. her previous self, the one before Owner had found her on that ship, the one she had ripped from her spirit and soul so lovingly over the months in dry dock.
“Wh…whhhuz goin…on?” The cute rescue, the one-who-used-to-be-Burkes, mumbled through her teeth, having already been stripped and redressed in a flowery flowy slip of a thing. She was already looking so much better, with pupils wide and gaze empty.
“It's quite simple, little one~ You see, my obedient and precious little girl here, who you may know as the Captain, did what she did best…” Owner smiled down at the puppy, making small coo-ing noises. The puppygirl giggled, writhing as her tummy got rubbies.
*click click* *click click* *click click*
“she fetched what was asked of her. Such a Good girl, yes you areeeee, yes you areeeee!” Owner began to scritch under puppy’s chin, causing feminine moans and squeals of delight to slip free from her soul. It was so hard pretending to be a mean nasty angry Captain, which is why Owner did that thing in her head to help! She didn't really understand how it worked, but that was okay.
How the affini had broken her? Doesn't make sense to puppy!
What was going to happen to the rest of her crew? Doesn't make sense to puppy!
Her Owner's plans for her? Doesn't make sense to puppy!
*click click*
puppy felt the thoughts and questions blissfully slip from her mind, giggling in delight. Stars, she was such a ditzy little happy pet. So well trained, so mal…malle…um…so well trained! Owner tilted her head up to gaze into her eyes, and puppy felt so happy...and a bit sad.
Because this was the Hard Part.
The part that made her whimper. The part where her Owner's eyes pulled her back to the Old Meanie. She felt herself falling, falling to Owner's pretty voice...
“I know, petal. I know. But you get to sleep with me every single night already, don't you? Yes you do, yes you do~ Good puppy. You're making me sooooo proud, doing this. And very, very soon, we will be ready to get everyone else in one go~”
. . . . .
The Captain woke slowly, peeling his face off of the desk. He groaned, rubbing his forehead as he glanced around the room. What had he…?
Oh, right. He had taken care of the latest traitor, and then he was getting a small nap in. Something told him that he needed to be extra vigilant for the next while, to find out as many traitors as pawsi...as possible. Those in charge were counting on him.
...It was a little weird that he had been so tired he had collapsed into his chair completely naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, or the smile he was unable to wipe from his face, but that was okay.
And in the corner of his mind, just out of sight...a whisper.
It didn’t have to make sense to puppy.
Questions I think to myself a lot when confronted with certain kinds of Online Posting:
Do you want a better world, or do you want revenge on those you think aren’t doing enough to improve it?
Do you want a more just world, or do you want to see bad people suffer merciless punishment?
Do you want a less oppressive world, or do you want the reins of power for yourself?
Do you want to do the right thing, or do you want to feel righteous?
Affini video compilation of terrans who talk and move in their sleep.
Affini who have conversations with their florets while they're asleep about how cute they are ♡
Affini who puts a tiny camera in their florets collar so we can all see from their perspective what happens when the floret sleepwalks. Floret thinks they're going to the store but really the Affini is using their vines as a sort of treadmil and they never leave their room.
Affini timelapse videos of terrans moving wildly in their sleep, some move their legs constantly and others roll around everywhere. video highlight is a terran trying to take his shirt off while asleep, getting stuck, whining about it, having his shirt taken off for him, then settling back down. he was alseep that whole time and remembered none of this happening.
Affini posting threads and threads and threads of pictures of disoriented terrans who just woke up. all gushing about their cute little faces and the noises they make when they stretch out.
Affini sharing surveilance videos of florets chilling in cuddle piles together when one of them yawns and slowly everyone else yawns at least once.
Florn where an Affini whispers in their sleeping florets ear the whole time. The floret is asleep, this is an ASMR video where you get to watch the floret get needy and cum in their sleep from dreaming about what their Affini is saying they'll do to them.
Affini who takes their sleeping florets out for walks in baby carriers and strollers, with a pretty blanket giving them shade over their face and everything. At first the carrier was deeply humiliating but tbh the thing is cozy as fuck and the gentle rocking is pretty soothing and their vines are holding you so securely in the carrier so who cares its fuckin nap nap time
Because it is the anniversary of his death, I wanted to share a small story about my grandfather.
Before I knew that I was intersex, I identified as a trans man. And I went the way any trans man has to go if he wants to transition in my country. My parents thankfully were supportive but I was afraid to tell my grandparents. My grandparents were German and lived/were raised during the third reich. While both of them never said or acted in a way that suggested that they had fascist views (my grandfather was until he died part of a leftwing political party), but there still was this fear in me. "They are old, they grew up surrounded by abhorrent beliefs...". And then there was my aunt. Who would constantly claim that my grandfather was homophobic.
The problem was, back then, there were no openly out gay people in our area, so I never got the chance to see my grandfather interact with someone who was queer. So I just believed her. Because she was so insistent on it. And because it confirmed my fears and my brain loves to be constantly afraid.
But I knew I wanted to come out. I had to, eventually, because I had stopped my estrogen treatment (back then, I did not know that I got that because I was intersex) and went on testosterone instead and first physical changes began to show. We all lived in one big house, so my grandparents would eventually notice.
I was so afraid that my father at some point offered to talk to his parents. I waited outside in the hallway that led to their kitchen and listened.
My father explained, easy to understand, that I was going to transition from female to male because I felt terrible in my body. My grandfather asked, "Is that why the child* is so depressed all this time?" I had been in and out of multiple clinics for manic depression at that point. My father gave a yes. And my grandmother made the incredibly selfish comment, "Can't that wait until I am dead?"
Before I even got time to be upset, my grandfather slammed his fist down on the table. I had never seen or heard him do anything like that before. He was a very calm and collected man who preferred to leave the room before he got too angry. "No, it can't wait. The child gets to get well now. And if that is what is going to help, then it needs to be done."
From that day on, he never used my deadname again or used the wrong pronouns for me. Sometimes, he would stop in a sentence to think and remind himself, but he did always address me correctly.
He celebrated with me when my name was legally changed. He built the bed frame for me and my boyfriend's bed when we moved in together, just like he had built the first adult sized bedframe for me when I outgrew my small bed. He drove my boyfriend to his chemo sessions because my grandfather also had cancer and knew how terrifying it was to go alone.
Did he fully understand what it means to be intersex? To transition? No. But he understood that one of his loved ones was suffering and that he could help to alleviate that pain. And so he did.
He taught me calligraphy. He taught me how to sew. He taught me bookbinding. He gave me many gifts.
But the biggest gift he gave me was, that when someone hated me for what I am, I could stomach it. Because this man was willing to unlearn the bigotry he had been taught for decades so he could love me for who I am.
*in my grandpa's dialect it was normal to refer to children as just 'the child' (genderless)
You know that scene in The Matrix where everyone is eating their weird beige slop at breakfast and Mouse says "You know what it really reminds me of? Tastee Wheat, you ever have Tastee Wheat?" In the German dub they don't say Tastee Wheat, they say Sex Crispies. And I think that's... beautiful?
Handshake Agreement
It had been days, possibly months since I had last seen another creature face to face. Ever since they set me up with a hab, I didn’t really have a need to head outside y’know? It was so much easier to just compile food and play games on the overnet and just listen to that voice inside that said the outside world was scary and unkind.
It wasn’t true of course, the plants that gave me the hab in the first place were lovely, but I’d seen just enough of them and their weird pets in the first week to know that I wanted no part in it.
Of course that’s exactly how I ended up here.
I had to answer the door when she rang, there was nowhere to hide exactly and what else was I supposed to do, there’s no back entrance to these things.
She was an imposing bundle of leafy green foliage with a sticky sweet smile and a dominating confidence that set my heart pounding. Woven flesh constructed from thin vines that twisted and curled into a shape of maternal power and I instantly knew I was in trouble.
“A pleasure to meet you little one. My name is-”
She raised an eyebrow at my dishevelled appearance and extended an arm, an unraveling of vines from her body that stitched itself together into a forearm and hand. The palm was large enough to grasp my entire head, each finger thick and wide and long.
She looked at me with pooling expectant eyes and I knew what was expected of me. I swallowed my anxiety and reached out, placing my trembling hand into hers.
All at once her finger like appendages wrapped around, gripping onto my hand firmly, and I gasped in surprise as they started to unravel.
“Hey, let go of me! What do you think you’re doing!”
Her polytonal voice echoed through me with a sing song sweetness from beneath her sharp thorn teeth.
“Eyes up here precious, you have nothing to worry about.”
I met her gaze, and felt my heart race slow as I sunk into her pools of shimmering gold, specks of silvery light that swum in an ocean of liquid metal.
“That’s it little one, nice and calm.”
I could feel the tendrils spreading higher, clinging onto my wrist, binding me tighter with each slowing second.
“There is nothing to worry about, I just needed to make sure you were doing okay in there okay cutie?”
It sounded about right, I had heard of wellness checks and maybe that’s what this was? But she wasn’t looking around, she was just standing in front of me and gripping my hand, looking down with those abyssal eyes, all six of them trained on me.
“Uuhuh” I tried to form a sentence, but anything more than the most simple utterance felt impossible.
I could hear a giggling voice, somewhere far beyond and above me, and feel the vibrations of its intonation as they rippled down through my hand.
“Oh petal, I can see that words are hard right now, so how about we just continue with the conversation and if there is anything you disagree with just say no.”
Her hand had practically absorbed mine by this point, hot sticky undulations that enveloped by fingers and massaged the pad of my thumb, and I wanted so badly to look at it, but I couldn’t look away from her beautiful eyes.
“You want me to come in, don’t you?”
I-I that didn’t sound right. I tried to decline the offer, but her hand pulsed with another wave of reassurance and I failed to say the words.
“Good Girl, nice and deep for me. So calm, so relaxed.”
I felt myself sinking lower and lower into her gaze, a thick slurry coating my thoughts in a sweet floral trance.
“You want to be a Good Girl for me.”
There was something not sitting correctly, I didn’t know this plant, I barely tolerated the Affini, why would I want to be good for her? And yet, as the words rolled over me they soaked me in tingling pleasure, the bliss of doing something right and being rewarded for it sending shivers down my spine.
“As I suspected, a good, sweet little doll for me. But remember little doll, if there’s anything you don’t want you can just say no.”
It was strange, a part of me disagreed but when I tried to decline her advances I couldn’t find it in myself to get it out. There were other ideas, new ideas, submissive ideas that were starting to filter in with every dripping touch.
“You want to wear a beautiful little dress covered in my flowers.”
I usually wore hoodies and sweats, when you’re staying in a hab all day there really wasn’t a good reason to wear a pretty dress, but it did sound nice, and her flowers were so pretty.
“Good Girl, you’re going to look so pretty in a beautiful little companion dress! Do you like how that makes you feel? Knowing you’ll be wearing an adorable little outfit that matches me so completely?”
Her eyes flared, a coronal ejection from the sun sucking me in deeper and deeper. I was helpless to resist. I could feel an excitement building in my belly, tingling and sticky and sweet just like her.
“You want to be my floret.”
I felt a voice, tiny and weak screaming out at me to run, to say something, do anything, but I couldn’t listen to it anymore. Not when I knew how good it would feel to keep on going, keep on listening. All I could do was stammer out a weak noise.
“Nnnmm”
Her tendrils were all the way up to my shoulder now, covering me in writhing sparkling pleasure. It was inescapable. Indescribable.
“Good Little Doll. Well then, I suppose it is decided. All that is left is to shake on it.”
She pulled on my arm in a quick and sudden motion, yanking me into her vines-
“DROP”
I fell, physically and mentally, collapsing into her. I was subsumed by darkness, surrounded by warmth as the vines that help my hand erupted to encase me. From far, far away I heard her echoing voice dictate to me.
“So silly, I almost forgot to introduce myself. You can call me Mistress.”
*shuffles shyly into your ask box*
Hello! Your writing is so fun and juicy and I was just wondering if you'd be willing to write a Hero x Villain where Hero is trying to deny their feelings for Villain and Villain is just flirting relentlessly. Maybe Villain kidnapped Hero just to have them alone??
"You think I have feelings for you?" the hero demanded. "You kidnapped me."
"Are you telling me that the big, bad superhero can't break free of a pair of cuffs?"
"That's not the point."
"Isn't it?" The villain smiled, coming to a stop between the hero's splayed legs. "Because if you can break free, gorgeous, it means you're choosing to stay."
The hero swallowed. Cuffed to a (admittedly comfortable enough) chair, they had to tip their head up to meet the villain's gaze. They shifted, slightly. They refused to call it squirming.
The villain's smile grew to a wicked grin.
"That's not the point," the hero said again, voice cracking a little. "It's still kidnapping!"
"And of course nothing in you finds it hot that I can get the better of you. You're above such things. The way you shivered when I walked in was pure terror. Is that right?"
"I'm not scared of you! We just established I can get free of these cuffs at any time."
The villain raised an eyebrow.
The hero coloured and looked down. Their mind reeled. They didn't have feelings for the villain. They didn't. Because that would be wrong. It would be morally heinous. It would be...
"Mm." The villain trailed their finger up along the hero's heaving chest, tip tip their chin up again, and the hero's breath gave a treacherous hitch. "So why are you staying, then?"
"You might give an evil monologue and reveal all your plans. Your kind like to do that."
The villain laughed. "Oh my love. You've never met my kind. Maybe if you had, you'd know what to do with me."
"Arrest you?"
"Pin me down and tell me I've been so very naughty?"
"Yes! No - I mean no!" The hero's face was on fire. They glared at the villain.
The villain brushed a thumb over their cheek, almost soothing. Like they wanted to reassure the hero that, if they were mocking, it was not to be cruel.
The hero belatedly realised they should have recoiled from the touch a long time ago. They swallowed again, but they still couldn't quite seem to get any moisture into their mouth. They felt suddenly infinitely aware of their tongue.
No clever comebacks came to mind. Only the image of the villain pressed writhing beneath their hands, breathless and wild and grinning in that way of theirs.
"So. Here you are." The villain got back on track, though perhaps not mercifully, after another all too telling moment of silence. "And it's absolutely not because you have feelings for me. It's all..." They waved their free hand, "strategic. It's not for the fact that part of you knows..." The villain leaned down, close enough to kiss. "That kidnapped and alone with me is the only time you would ever allow yourself to truly act on what you want, instead of playing perfect. If you were brave enough to take it, that is."
"I-" The hero faltered.
Their gaze dipped to the villain's lips, cataloguing the minty puff of their breath, their closeness. They cleared their throat. Something in them ached. Longed. Yearned. Reinvented new synonyms for craning hopelessly, helplessly, for the thing that they were not allowed or able to have.
The hero shook their head.
"Okay." The villain straightened abruptly. They pulled back. Their fingers fell away, leaving the hero bereft. "Sorry for pressing. See you out there, maybe, gorgeous."
"I-what?"
"You're free to go. Far be it from me to inflict myself where I'm not wanted."
"What? No!" The protest left the hero unbidden as the villain turned away.
It was a trap. It was so obviously a trap, and yet the hero stepped in it anyway because...because...
"You are such an asshole," the hero said.
"Villain, darling."
"It doesn't change anything even if I did have feelings for you. I can't."
"Ain't no one here but us to find out about it."
"It will get messy."
"Life does that, gorgeous." Still, the villain's voice was softer than before, quieter. Less the purr, or teasing lilt. "That's what makes it life."
After a beat, the villain moved back over to them again. They slipped one finger beneath the hero's chin.
"You're tied to a chair, kidnapped by a supervillain," the villain said. "So just this once we can pretend you don't have a choice. Can I kiss you?"
The hero nodded, heart pounding in their chest.
It was a mistake, another trap of as much as any tale of honey and flies, because they immediately wanted more of the sweetness. The villain's mouth on theirs was a more perfect thing than any of the pedestals that the hero had made a home on.
When the villain pulled back, the hero broke the cuffs thoughtlessly to chase, to slip fingers into the villain's hair and drew them back in closer.
The villain's breath hitched that time.
The hero wanted more of that too. They just wanted.
"Tell me again," the hero said, as they recklessly kissed the villain deep, "that I don't know exactly what to do with you, asshole?"
The villain laughed again and it was one of the best sounds the hero had regrettably ever heard.
Somehow, when the two of them were alone, the villain was a choice that the hero kept not making after that.
H*ndh*lding
I found her hiding deep in the belly of the Radiant Wing, pressed up against a bulkhead and trying not to move a single muscle. She was a slight little thing, as the cycles of malnutrition and overwork has reduced her down to skin and bone. My antennae chirped in distress at the bags under her eyes, at the way her body shook with stress, at the quivering of her lip.
I knelt down low, until I was a mere foot or two higher than her eye level. "Hello, Abigail. Are you hurt?"
She didn't answer me with vocalizations, which was worrying. Was some part of her still attempting to hide? The furry lines above her eyes scrunched together, and she kept her gaze pointedly fixed on the floor a few feet in front of me.
"Abbi- may I call you Abbi?" Her eyes flickered slightly, and she gave the smallest and most hesitant of head movements up and down. I continued, "Abbi, my name is Cherry Berry, Third Bloom, pronouns of She and Her."
The girl's diaphragm twitched spasmodically as she exhaled, a strange and involuntary reaction to my name I've found many Terrans do. It is admittedly very adorable how they are unable to control themselves, similar to how they cannot control their heartbeat.
I kept my body perfectly still as I continued, "Now as you may be aware, my presence here means that this ship has been boarded. As of this moment, all but eight of your fellow crewmates have been sedated, and are being escorted off of this ship, and onto the Illastria. You are to join them. Do you understand?"
The girl shook her head wildly, her ocular organs wide as her heartbeat sharply increased. Many creatures had a fear response, of course; evolution's clumsy attempts at protecting them. I would be much more thorough, once my implant rested within her.
I carefully extended one of the four groupings of vines I had shaped into arms, holding the 'hand' palm-up towards her. Culturally, she would recognize it as an offering.
"Come here, petal. Take my hand."
She need not know the topical xenodrugs I excreted through my vines until later, of course.
The girl pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and nibbled on it as she thought things through. I waited, calmly. She was smart, I knew. Smart enough to have recieved an education at the collegiate level for nearly free, before it was shut down and she was shunted into this accursed coffin of a ship.
Finally...slowly...and ever so shakily, the girl's limb extended out towards mine. I resisted my instinct to close the gap in less than a single of her eye blinks, to slip my injectors under her dermis and make her mine.
That would come later.
Instead, I began to slowly sway my body back and forth. Not enough to be noticeable on its own, but enough that the natural rhythm of my flora to more prominently draw her attention. Like many species, it was difficult for her kind to focus on multiple tasks at once. All I had to do was utilize this trait to my advantage.
Her fingertips touched first, like soft wingbeats of an Al'yssrian upon the surface. They hovered over my own facsimile of her phalanges, and finally came to a rest in the center of my palm, with my own fingertips nestled on her radius and ulna. I allowed myself a full 0.3 seconds to enjoy the feeling of her body. All those complicated systems, each working so inefficiently to maintain that spark called life. The soft tiny hairs on her arm had raised, hundreds of little bumps coating her arm. Another automatic system, most likely. She reacted to me.
...But even so, she was far from ready for me to move, just yet. The sternocleidomastoid muscle was tensed to near-taut, and her ocular organs refused to stay fixed for long. Now that I was touching her directly, I was able to get a much more accurate pulse reading. It was far above resting, and the speed only hastened the effects of the adrenaline coursing through her systems.
I pulled a single vine from the 'back' of my hand, curling it slowly around the side until it hovered over her own. She watched it nervously, and I felt her limb tense in case she needed to pull it back.
"Have you ever seen one of my kind before, Abi?"
The girl paused, then another up-and-down bob of her head.
"...I mean like this. Not on a digital broadcast."
A left-to-right this time. Negative.
"I'm sure you have heard quite a bit about my kind, though. I will say that in turn, I have learned much about you." I was rather disappointed in the meager intelligence gathered for her, a mere twelve Petabytes of shopping habits, familial history, hobbies, disinterests, relationships, and every message sent from a device she has ever so much as looked at. Still, it was enough for me to develop an interest in the Sophont.
The corners of the girl's lips sank down, and the hair strips above her ocular organs scrunched up again. It would be adorable, if it wasn't meant to signal negative emotions.
"The point I am attempting to make is this: that information is useful, but ultimately direct knowledge is the highest priority. As an example..."
The vine dipped down and began to stroke along her metacarpals, a careful pleasing rhythm modeled after my own. The effects, though minor, were immediate: her heart rate shifted down and her eyes locked into the movement, and the scent of her perspiration indicated a reduction in chemicals released from stress. I continued to gently pet her, noting with mild amusement how she used the muscles in her throat she could control to contain any vocalizations. That would have to change, of course. The easiest way would be to remove her ability to notice them via hypnosis, but I enjoyed the way the hue of her face dyed red as she grew more embarassed.
I adopted a softer and quieter tone, causing the girl to lean forward slightly to hear me better. "You see? Nothing to be afraid of, is there? All I offer is comfort and pleasure, petal."
She continued to think while I directed more vines to join the first, carefully running them down and up the length of my grip on her. The topical xenodrugs began to take hold by then, causing her pupils to dilate by thirty...thirty-two percent. I checked my tablet from its place next to my core, and noted that I was one of only three affini left. Still, this could not be rushed.
"Abbi, I am very pleased with you. You are responding wonderfully to me, and I wish to reward you. May I do so?" Needing to ask was ridiculous, of course, but I wasn't quite ready to take...yet. The trap was laid. Now, all that was left was to see if she took the bait. The curiosity. Her kind had to know things. Especially if it is a mysterious 'reward'.
Abbi thought for a full five seconds, then her head bobbed up-and-down.
"Thank you, dear." The vines of my hand wrapped around hers fully while I began to tug, pulling her into the air as I prepared my other arms to cradle her now-prone body. The girl couldn't help but vocalize a squeal, but otherwise she did not struggle. Oh yes, she was absolutely mine in all but name.
I began to drag the clawed tips of my upper right arm across her radius, while the hand holding hers began to massage and squeeze in earnest. Hundreds of different points of contact, varying in intensity, texture, movement.
The girl's nervous system could scarely keep up with the combined input, and I couldn't help but shift the hue of my eyes to a higher frequency as a result. The dazed and unfocused ocular organs...the desperate panting as her chest rose and fell...the way her vocalizations continued to build....
Exquisite.
"Why don't we continue this somewhere more...palatable, little one? I would love to show you my garden."
No response. The drugs had likely reduced her to a mewling mess, and her auditory processing was a consequence. No matter.
I began to walk back towards the Capture vine I came from, continuing to caress and play with her soft skin. "You know, I think you would be much happier with a different name. Specifically, your familial one..."
Awakening
No one told me how good it was going to feel.
They talked on and on about how I would lose my values, my thoughts, even my soul. They told me I would be damned for eternity, trapped inside of myself and unable to so much as blink, much less scream.
They told me that my 'Owner' would ignore my need for control, would take parts from me until the only thing left was a shell of myself, a thing.
I believed Them.
I still do, to be honest.
The problem is that ever since I've woken up from the implantation surgery...I can Feel It.
Her implant, like a seed taking root in my nerves and muscles. Wrapping around my spine like a long-lost lover, communicating not with mere words but in feeling, in intention, in silent memory.
And it feels impossibly, unbelievably good. Each second brings yet another pulsing wave of pleasure emanating from my spine.
Training, She had said. Conditioning, she silently added with Her eyes, like violet storms.
And even though it is nothing more than simple pleasure, even though I know exactly what She is doing...I can tell it's working.
I can feel the soft curl of a smile on my lips, when I get distracted. I can feel it guide me. Making me want to obey. The stick is unneeded when the carrot is unable to be resisted.
She told me I'm going to feel this way every day of the rest of my life.
I cried.
I don't know if it was from frustration, or relief.
...Or maybe I do know. Maybe I do, and the thought of knowing terrifies me more.
I am unable to ever be alone again. Unable to ever make a mistake, unless She wants me to.
I am unable to hate Her anymore.
Not that I think I ever did, not really. She was...is difficult to get along with, to be sure. But She listens to me. I know She does. And I'm healthier than I've been in a long, long time. It is, if nothing else, a decent life promised to me.
Ah.
It...the implant rewarded me for that thought.
...hm.
Would I have thought this before now?
Doubtful.
But that me had yet to understand. Was convinced they could escape, if only they tried hard enough.
I have been disavowed of that notion.
She promised me as much, and She has kept every one of her promises. I know that now. That no matter how I pound at these walls, there is truly no escaping Her. Not now, not ever. And that I soon may change into someone, something else.
I should be scared right now, I think.
I should be terrified.
But that is an unneeded emotion. Fear is a harsh teacher, one necessary to guide our clumsy evolution. It sang to the rapid beating of your heart: 'Respect that which you do not understand, and avoid that which hurts you.'
And though I still have yet to understand Her...I know She will not hurt me. And I know that my fear would ultimately achieve little and less.
And so if fear and terror are unneeded, why not prune it way? Why not excise it, so that the wound may heal?
Ah.
I see.
I suppose...I suppose I will change.
And I suppose I am changing, even now.
And perhaps...
Perhaps I already am changed.
Already different. I tasted nectar and ambrosia, and now the bread and wine of mortal men is but ash and mud in my mouth.
For I am no longer in control.
And I am glad that They never told me how Good that feels.
"Don't," your girlfriend says, yanking your arm. Your thumb was up in the corner of your mouth, and you were gnawing on it slightly.
"Hey!" the grab was jarring, and honestly you weren't even aware you were nibbling your thumbnail, too focused on the movie in front of you. "Cut it out," you try and wriggle out of her grip.
She grabs the remote and pauses the movie. Her wrist is still around your arm and she jerks it up and towards your face again
"Look. Your cuticles are all peeled away and your thumb is wrinkly and red," she says.
"So?" you avoid eye contact, suddenly finding a loose thread on the couch very interesting. The hand not clenched by your girlfriend picks at it.
"So, it isn't good for your finger. Or clean, when was the last time you washed your hands?"
"Uhm..."
"That's what I thought. Next time I catch you doing it, there will be consequences."
Consequences, you think, yeah right. What's she going to do, cut my thumb off?
---
It's been bumper to bumper for what feels like forever. Your navigation app says there's an accident, on top of typical commuter traffic, plus an off ramp being worked on means you're late. Really late, for dinner with your girlfriend's parents, nonetheless.
There's a sudden tight burning feeling on your thigh. Something, or rather, someone, is pinching you. It breaks the anxious spiral you were in and you yelp, finger falling from your mouth.
"What was that for?" you turn to your girlfriend in the passenger seat, looking smug.
"Finger in the mouth. Consequences, remember?"
"Not while I'm driving! I could have crashed!"
"I wouldn't say you're actually driving right now," she says, indicating the sea of stationary cars around you.
You roll your eyes and huff, "semantics."
You consider just shutting up and letting it go, but the anxious tension in the car is making you a little edgy.
"It's not a big deal if I chew on my fingers or bite my nails. I don't get sick from it, my fingers don't get infected. Plus, I think it helps me focus sometimes."
"Not infected yet. But, that's not all it does."
"What do you mean?"
"You really haven’t noticed? Anytime you're sad, or scared, or stressed you start gnawing on your fingers like a beaver," she's smirking now, like this was some grand revelation she'd been hiding from you. "It's pretty obvious you find your fingers comforting. I'm surprised you've got any nails at all!'
"I mean, I guess..." you don't want to admit to it, but you know she's right. You do find nibbling your fingers soothing. God, how embarrassing. Who else puts their fingers in their mouth for comfort? Babies.
"This is giving me an idea!" You glance over again and can practically see the lightbulb flash over her head. She starts tapping rapidly on her phone, leaning to the side so you can't see.
"Care to share with the class?"
"No. Now focus on the road."
You're about to argue that there is literally nothing you need to be focusing on, when the car in front of you starts to inch forward. You relax your foot off the brake, and as you pick up speed the whole conversation leaves your mind.
----
"Ready?" she calls from the living room.
"Ready!" you respond behind a mouthful of popcorn. You carry the steaming and buttery smelling bowl into the living room and park yourself on the couch next to her, tossing in another mouthful.
"Before we start, close your eyes," your girlfriend says.
"Why?"
"Just do it!"
You close your eyes. You can hear a faint rustling...maybe she's digging in her pockets?
"Open your mouth,"
"Open my m-mmph!?" You don't even finish your thought before something is shoved in your mouth. It's bulbous, and hollow, and something connected to it is pressed against your lips. It's a...no, it couldn't be. Could it?
You open your eyes and go slightly crosseyed trying to look at what has been, quite abruptly, inserted between your teeth.
"A pashi-," you spit it out, "a pacifier, really?"
"Yeah!" She's beaming, for some reason. "Now you can have something in your mouth when you need to focus, or when you're anxious, or-"
"Um, I don't think so. I'm not a baby."
"This one is for grownups," she says, matter of factly.
"Well, this grownup doesn’t need a pacifier, thank you very much,"
"Says the grownup who sucks and chews their fingers,"
"I don't recall seeing an age limit on the finger-chewing-manual,"
"Just try it? Please, for tonight?"
Her sincerity catches you off guard. She really is trying to help you, it seems, even if her methods are a little humiliating.
"Fine, fine. If I think I'm going to put my fingers in my mouth, which I won't, I'll use the..." you can't quite get yourself to say the word.
"Pacifer? Binky? Paci? Soo-"
"Ok, ok I get it."
---
The popcorn bowl has been long discarded, just a few greasy kernels at the bottom. You're curled up, knees underneath you and head pressed against your girlfriend's shoulder when a particularly tense scene picks up on screen. Automatically, your fingers start creeping up your chin. Your pointer finger is hooked over your bottom lip and your teeth are clamping it in place.
Your girlfriend’s warm hand slowly tugs your finger away, and you let out a soft whine.
"Shh, shh," she says, as if soothing a fussy baby.
She slips the pacifier in your mouth, and you go to spit it out, but her fingers are pressing it tight against your lips.
"Try? For me?"
Her words trigger a deep urge in you, one to do whatever she says. It blossoms in your chest and a warm feeling you associate with blind obedience takes over. You give a little nod of your head and pull the pacifier in further, allowing her to release her fingers.
You rub your tongue over it and gently gnash your teeth on the soft rubber, getting a feel for it. Contracting your cheeks you give it a tentative suck, and find that it glides over your tongue smoothly. It takes barely any effort at all to get into a satisfying rhythm. Before you know it, your attention is back on the climaxing movie and the pacifier is bobbing on an even measure in your mouth. Any tension you'd been carrying from the day seems to melt away as you suckle. The stimulation in your mouth is helping you focus on the movie, and you don't feel the urge to give in to your typical restless squirming.
You don't think your fingers will be back in your mouth anytime soon.
once-beloved plush dolls
palette is nanner pancakes
Class-C
The shot glass sat in front of you, innocuous in appearance. If you couldn't smell the tang of citrus, if you didn't catch the occasional sparkle suspended in it, you might think it mere water.
In front of you, your affini friend rested her head on her hand. She practically bled smugness, the leaves around her neck slightly fluffed as if she was preening. You rolled your eyes, mirroring her posture for the hell of it.
"So this is your bet? Aren't Class-C's something on the 'dont mess with' list for terrans anyway?"
Her voice was a rolling purr as she answered, "Yes. This is different. A heavily diluted solution of a specific strain. No lasting effects, just the intense feeling of a Class-C dose for about two hours."
The bet was simple: You had to make it through thirty minutes without confessing your love for her, or begging to be her floret. She thought you couldn't do it. You thought she was full of shit. You had plenty of xenodrugs before, of course. Class A's and E's were fun and relaxing, but ultimately you were still in control of things.
Shrugging nonchalantly, you picked up the shot and threw it back, the sweet flavor hitting your throat and tingling slightly as it went down. You flipped the glass face down and slammed it onto the table, then looked up at her with a satisfying smirk. "Easy."
Her smile only widened. "We'll see." She flipped open her tablet and pressed a timer, starting a countdown clock. She showed you it had thirty minutes remaining, then flipped it closed. "No using the time you have left for rallying cries. Just you, me, and the lovely chemicals your brain is about to be swimming in. When the alarm rings, I'll administer the counteragent."
You scoffed, leaning back in my chair. "You didn't even wait until it had begun to kick in? Wow, you must really be confident."
"Oh, it begins nearly immediately. Already the drug is interacting with those neurons, mixing in with seratonin and oxytocin and a few other things besides."
You looked at her, doubtful. "Yeah? Then how come I don't feel any different?"
"Sweetie, you've leaned halfway across the table already. Move any further and you're likely to crush that shot glass you slammed down so viciously earlier." She gestured at your posture, causing you to hurriedly sit back into your chair with a blush.
"Shit, I...sorry. Got carried away." You glanced down at the shot glass, biting your lip as you realized that you *had* been rather violent with it. You carefully flipped it back upright, wiping the outside clean with your shirt. "Um. Sorry."
"Dear, did you just apologize to the glas-"
"NO!" Your face was properly red now. Oh *stars*, you had! You had just done something that embarrassing in front of your Best Friend and what if she thought you were silly now? Would she not want to hang out with you? You hoped not. You really enjoyed her compa....wait....
Frowning, you shook your head roughly, slapping your cheeks a little. It was just the drug. You were in control. The drugs were doing this. But unlike the A or E, it was more...subtle. or rather, it was potent, but you didn't even realize it until your best friend had pointed it out. Gosh, she's so kind...
"Um, t-thank you for helping me remember I was drugged." The words felt good to say. You wanted her to know how much you appreciated her after all. So you could win the bet!
...
The bet?
"Wait, what happens if I lose?" You realized you had forgotten to ask that before. Worried, you turned to look at her.
"Well, what would you like to happen, pet~al?" You blushed, realizing it was just like her to wait until you were...compromised before asking this. Well, jokes on her! You're still in control.
"Nothing! I don't want anything to happen. No new rules, no teasing, and no domestication. Got it?"
She nodded, sagely. "Of course. In that case, I take that to mean that should you win, you'll get all of those wonderful things~"
You sputtered in shock. "I- no! I don't want to... I'm...you can't be serious."
"Awww, is something wrong?" She smirked, her eyes flashing purples and golds in a way that made your heart melt. "All you have to do now is lose, then~ Or are you so stubborn, you can't admit that you l~o~v~e me, flower?"
"I-I...you... fucking...." You felt the indignation mix with the heady joy of her attention, of wanting to give into her, of wanting to beg. She was trying to goad you. She wanted you to win now. She had entirely turned the rules on their head.
But she also assumed you would take her bait. You shook your head, biting your lip. "I...fine. I admit it."
"Admit what?" She had begun to rise up slightly, her hands clutching the edge of the table. She was absolutely getting off on this. You couldn't even meet her eyes, looking away and down.
"I love you?"
"Mmmm....I don't believe you." You could hear the smile in her voice, full of wicked glee. "Say it louder, for one. And look me in the eyes~ and don't be afraid to put a little more emotion in it, dearie. This is a confession, after all~"
You whimpered, managing to drag your eyes up to meet hers. Reluctantly, you allowed the feelings you had been fighting for several minutes now to wash over you, letting them guide your words. "I l-love you...I need you..."
"I love you...?" She trailed off, waiting for you to complete it properly. You wanted to scream, but instead all that came out was "Miss?"
"Dear, it's just a game. You can use the one you want to use."
"I love you, Mommy."
"And?"
"A-and I want...I need to be your floret. I need it, please stars I need it. I...oh gods it's...I..." The feelings crashed through you in waves.
"Go~od job, petal. You did it." She slid the table out of the way, stepping into a kneel in front of you. "You said those mushy gushy feelings!"
You nodded, pleased...until you remembered what that meant. You weren't going to get anything now. You had just said so. Tears sprang up, and you had to stifle a sudden sob. "I...it's..."
She was lifting you into her arms now, cradling you closely to her chest. "Shhhh...petal, it's alright. You didn't lose, silly."
"I...w-what?"
She smiled at you. "How would love for another ever be seen as losing? You won, silly."
You won. That made sense to you now. Especially when She said it. You beamed up at Her, letting Her wipe the tears away. "I won..."
"You won! And guess what that means, dear?"
"I'm...I'm a..."
"You're Mommy's little floret now." She tapped your nose as she cooed, causing you to giggle a bit. A wiggling little thought in your head popped up, though.
"You tricked me, Mommy!"
"Did I? Well, you knew we affini never play fair when it comes to cuties like you. Awfully brave of you to make a bet with me anyway, wasn't it? Almost like you wan~ted this, darling~" she purred at you, her eyes filled with light and warmth. You thought you couldn't possibly blush more, but it turns out you definitely could.
"I...noooooooooo!!! I didn't...I mean....maybe?"
"Silly little flower." She picked up her tablet, turning it back on and dismissing the timer, which had paused as soon as she had closed it. "Now, let's get you home. We have a contract to sign~"
Okay this is just unfair like please
no sentence fills me with utter loathing so much as "i asked chatgpt"