Hello, everyone. You can call me Chilo or Chil or Centi or anything similar to that. I am a heavily disabled trans female in my mid twenties - writing is how I scrape together the money to pay for my considerable medical expenses.
I am an author with two decades of experience writing as a hobby, one decade of writing professionally for money. I started this account as a way to separate my erotica writing from my general art account - if you know who I am, I request politely that you avoid crossing the streams so as to not introduce erotica into erotica-free environments.
I like writing grotesqueries and erotica in equal measure. Horror is my favorite genre, erotic horror is my favorite subgenre of that. Warnings will be posted above each story.
Requests are currently open!
The request process is as follows:
#1 - Send me an ask, anonymous or otherwise, outlining the parameters of your request. I generally have very little interest in writing requests that are not either erotic, horrific, or both.
#2 - The more specific, the easier it is for me to write. Ideally outline preferred kinks, scenarios, plot elements, genders, and the like. Every gap you leave open is room for me to put my own bad taste into it. I'll make a form later.
#3 - Wait patiently and politely. Sending follow up asks asking about the progress of your particular request will make me do it slower.
Commissions are currently open!
The commission process is as follows:
#1 - Send me a DM through Tumblr's direct chat message function. Be prepared with the specifics of your request.
#2 - Pay half up front, half after completion. Your request will be done generally in 2-3 business days or sooner depending on my motivation.
Rates are currently (SUBJECT TO CHANGE BASED ON DEMAND)
$10/100 words for Non-Erotica, Non-Horror,
$6/100 words for Erotica or Horror, and
$5/100 words for Erotic Horror.
Large bulk orders or specific kinks may acquire small discounts. I reserve the right to decline a commission for any reason.
Thank you. More will be added to this pinned post as I think of important things to add.
Overhead, a waxing gibbous moon hung pregnant and luminous, bathing the surrounding forest in an otherworldly glow. Eclair could feel the satellite's tidal influence singing in her veins, stoking the embers of her foxfire to a low smolder. Her nine tails, usually hidden beneath a veil of enchantment, now fanned out behind her in a silken banner of purest ebony; their tips skimming playfully over the water's steaming surface. Triangular ears, equally dark and velvety, swiveled atop her head to catch the night's myriad whisperings - from the cicadas' lulling drone to the occasional skitter of some small creature in the underbrush.
But beneath that tapestry of natural ambience, another sound was gradually asserting itself - a low, mechanical thrum that set Eclair's teeth on edge and stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She straightened from her languid slouch, sloshing water as her spine stiffened in atavistic alarm. The noise was growing louder by the second, thrumming up through the soles of her feet in jarring counterpoint to the onsen's gentle susurrations.
Anonymous commission
Eclair lounged blissfully in the steaming waters of the onsen, her voluptuous form buoyed by the mineral-rich froth as she let the day's tensions bleed away. The secluded hot spring was one of her favorite indulgences; a place to steal away from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo's neon-soaked streets and reconnect with nature. Here, amidst the mist-wreathed stones and whispering pines, she could let her glamours fade and simply exist in her true skin.
Shifting slightly, Eclair settled her broad rump more comfortably against the submerged boulder serving as her perch, the slick stone conforming to every curve and dimple of her ample ass. Beads of moisture pearled along the sweep of her collarbone and collected in the deep valley of her cleavage, drawing the eye irresistibly to where her breasts swelled against the confines of her simple white bathing robe. Thick nipples tented the thin fabric as the heat and humidity worked their magic, twin points of dusky brown that practically begged to be suckled.
Overhead, a waxing gibbous moon hung pregnant and luminous, bathing the surrounding forest in an otherworldly glow. Eclair could feel the satellite's tidal influence singing in her veins, stoking the embers of her foxfire to a low smolder. Her nine tails, usually hidden beneath a veil of enchantment, now fanned out behind her in a silken banner of purest ebony; their tips skimming playfully over the water's steaming surface. Triangular ears, equally dark and velvety, swiveled atop her head to catch the night's myriad whisperings - from the cicadas' lulling drone to the occasional skitter of some small creature in the underbrush.
But beneath that tapestry of natural ambience, another sound was gradually asserting itself - a low, mechanical thrum that set Eclair's teeth on edge and stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She straightened from her languid slouch, sloshing water as her spine stiffened in atavistic alarm. The noise was growing louder by the second, thrumming up through the soles of her feet in jarring counterpoint to the onsen's gentle susurrations.
Eclair rose to a wary crouch, tails lashing in agitation as she scanned the treeline for any signs of disturbance. There - a flicker of motion glimpsed through the wafting curtains of steam, there and gone again in the space of a blink. Something was moving through the forest's shadowy margins, threading between the towering trunks with purpose and precision.
The kitsune had just parted her lips to voice a challenge when the intruder burst from concealment in an explosion of splintered deadfall and pulverized humus. Eclair's eyes widened as she beheld the thing skulking towards the onsen's rocky border, its form a nightmarish mélange of sleek chrome and articulated carbon fiber limbs. A quadrupedal drone, all barbed mandibles and bristling sensor arrays, with a cluster of glowing optics winking like hellish rubies from the center of its wedge-shaped cranium.
Eclair bared her teeth in a vulpine snarl, hands flexing as she called tongues of foxfire to her fingertips - only to gasp as the drone lunged forward in a blur of liquid quicksilver. The nimble kitsune twisted aside at the last instant, feeling the ghost of scorched air sizzle past her cheek as a pencil-thin beam of coherent light sliced through the space she'd just occupied. The laser scored a smoldering furrow in the boulder behind her, showering Eclair with stinging specks of pulverized granite.
No time to think; she was in motion before the stony shrapnel finished pattering around her, bare feet finding purchase on the treacherously slick flagstones as she sprang for the dubious shelter of the treeline. The drone swiveled to track her flight, servos whirring and hydraulics hissing as it realigned for another shot. Eclair zig-zagged madly, tails streaming behind her as she poured every ounce of preternatural speed and agility into avoiding that deadly crimson beam.
Sizzling lances of light stitched the night around her, felling towering hardwoods and sending geysers of steam billowing where they struck the onsen's superheated waters. The sharp reek of ozone and charred vegetation filled Eclair's lungs as she panted for breath, her heart hammering a staccato beat against the inside of her ribcage. The forest whipped by in a blur of shadow and motion, individual trees blending into a solid mass as she pushed herself to the limits of even her superhuman endurance.
Behind her, the drone skittered and bounded in tireless pursuit, its metal limbs eating up the distance with every passing second. Eclair could hear the hungry rev of its motivator as it closed the gap, could practically feel the searing heat of its optics painting a bead between her shoulders. She jinked hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a grasping swipe from one of its scythe-like forelimbs, only to cry out as a second beam took her full across the flank.
Searing agony blossomed through her hindquarters as the laser sizzled through cloth and flesh alike, painting a line of liquid fire from hip to ankle. The acrid stench of burnt fabric and the sharp tang of blood filled Eclair's nostrils as she stumbled, her graceful stride faltering into a limping stagger. She could feel the wound pulling with every step, could sense vital fluids seeping through the charred ruin of her robe to dribble down her leg in scalding rivulets.
Another glancing hit took her between the shoulder blades, sending her sprawling face-first into a wiry tangle of underbrush. Thorny vines snagged at her clothing and tore at her exposed skin as she thrashed weakly, trying to pull herself forward on trembling arms. The drone was on her before she'd managed to drag herself more than a meter, its bulk pinning her to the loamy earth with implacable strength.
Up close, the machine was even more nightmarish - a whirring, clanking conglomeration of interlocking plates and pressure-sealed components, all emblazoned with strange sigils and alien machine-cant. Its manipulator arms were tipped with an array of wickedly barbed implements - drills, saws, hypodermic probes and worse - all cycling and reconfiguring in a hypnotic dance mere centimeters from Eclair's sweat-sheened face.
She cringed back from that high-speed ballet of blades and needles, only to yelp as a piercing jolt of electricity crackled across her nerve endings. The drone had extruded a pair of alligator-like clamps from ports along its ventral surface, and was methodically tasing her into submission with precisely modulated bursts of current. Eclair convulsed helplessly as her muscles seized and spasmed.
As abruptly as it had begun, the shocking ceased, leaving the kitsune limp and twitching in the drone's unyielding grasp. Eclair's head lolled drunkenly as she fought to muster the coordination to resummon her foxfire, but the dancing motes kept guttering out as quickly as she conjured them. A sharp prick at the side of her neck derailed her efforts entirely - glancing down, she saw a thin rivulet of blood beading around the lip of a dully gleaming injector port.
"Nhh… nhhhatae…" she slurred, tongue gone suddenly thick and clumsy behind her teeth. The drone was dumping some kind of sedative cocktail into her bloodstream, the fast-acting chemicals suffusing her body with sickly lassitude. Eclair's tails fell nervelessly to the forest floor in limp disarray as every voluntary muscle in her body seemed to dissolve into useless mush.
Deprived of even the feeble struggle she'd been mustering, the kitsune could only mewl plaintively as the drone began to dispassionately strip away her shredded clothing. Razor-tipped pincers sheared through the thin cloth like washi paper, baring Eclair's trembling flesh to the night's humid caress. Her breasts, the heavy globes capped by nipples stiffened more from fear than arousal, jiggled and swayed with each fresh cut until they spilled fully free of their soaked confines.
Soon, the once-elegant kitsune was utterly nude, clad in nothing but the fluttering tatters of her robe and the crisscrossing network of shallow, papercut-like lacerations left behind by the drone's efforts.
Eclair shivered as the comparatively cool forest air washed across her flushed skin, pebbling every inch of her exposed epidermis with gooseflesh. She was finding it increasingly difficult to string two thoughts together; whatever cocktail the drone had pumped her full of, it was acting with brutal efficiency to shut down her higher cognitive functions. Already, the entire world had narrowed down to base sensation - the rough prickle of leaf litter beneath her back, the meaty weight of her breasts compressing her ribcage with every shallow breath, the sharp bite of pine sap and petrichor filling her flaring nostrils.
The machine seized one of Eclair's ankles in a grip like a steel trap, hoisting her leg into the air to splay her wide open to its probing cameras. She mewled pathetically as servos hummed and a slim manipulator arm tipped with delicate sensor prongs extended from the drone's thorax, the hairs on her nape rising in instinctive alarm. But there was no pain as the probe slid up the sweat-slick crevice dividing her buttocks, only a slippery pressure as it nosed inquisitively at her most intimate apertures.
Eclair writhed weakly as the drone took its time mapping her sprawled form, pausing periodically to collect glistening beads of her arousal with dexterous swabs and store them away in tiny vacuum-sealed vials. It lingered for long minutes between her legs, the blunt pressure of the probe stretching her folds with clinical efficiency as it fed a thin fiberoptic lens up the clutching channel of her sex. She could only moan and shudder as it bottomed out against her cervix, the camera panning and rotating as it captured every minute detail of her most sacred anatomy in crisp digital clarity.
Other lenses were busily documenting the rest of her body, scanning and recording every freckle and follicle with merciless precision. They crawled across her goosebump-prickled skin in insectile droves, leaving faint gridwork impressions behind as they pressed and kneaded her pliant flesh. Every once in a while, a sharp sting would pierce the haze of Eclair's fugue - a pinprick here, a poke there - as the drone collected its tithe of blood and other precious fluids.
Drifting in a drugged haze, the kitsune barely registered the subtle shift when the drone's focus moved from recording her body to subtly modifying it. She murmured wordlessly as something cool and slick prodded between her parted thighs, shivering as it traced the seam of her everting labia with a frictionless glide. The sensation intensified as the probe sank into her without resistance, its flexible length coiling to fill every wrinkle and fold as it delved towards her core.
Eclair's hips stuttered weakly as the invader bottomed out inside her, its girth stretching her to an almost painful degree. But there was no discomfort - only a languid sense of fullness, like she was being gently reshaped around the drone's intrusion. Somewhere beyond the smothering curtain of artificial bliss, some small part of her thrashed and screamed against the violation - but it was a distant thing, growing fainter by the moment as unfamiliar warmth blossomed through her loins.
The kitsune whined low in her throat as the probe pulsed and flexed, rippling against the sensitive walls of her passage in a sinuous wave. Suddenly, the lush landscape of her hindquarters was alight with a thousand pinpricks of exquisite sensation - electric currents dancing across her skin in sizzling lace, caressing every dip and curve of her voluptuous figure. Eclair gasped and writhed as her nerves fired in cascading symphonies of artificial rapture, her spine arching into an almost perfect bow as orgasm crashed through her with breathtaking intensity.
Reeling, the drugged fox crested once, twice, three times on that surging tide of engineered bliss before collapsing back against the needle-strewn forest floor. Her eyes rolled deliriously behind fluttering lids, her body jerking and twitching in the throes of a pleasure so far beyond anything nature had ever intended. She was dimly aware of the drone moving above her, of cold metal appendages tilting her head this way and that as they daubed some kind of glistening unguent across her brow, but it was all distant and dreamlike compared to the hot coil of sensation pulsing between her legs.
As Eclair shuddered and mewled her way through a fourth shattering climax, the probe abruptly withdrew from her body with a wet squelch. The sudden sense of loss was so acute it bordered on pain, and the kitsune keened piteously at its absence. But the drone was already shifting position, its forelegs splaying wide to bracket her narrow waist as it lowered its chassis towards her supine form. Something rigid and slick prodded insistently at the slackened rim of the fox's pussy, notched itself against her folds with obvious intent.
Through the haze of lust and languid satiation, Eclair felt a sudden stab of apprehension. The drone's new appendage felt far larger than the probe it had been violating her with earlier - a blunt, flared head tapering back to a thick and textured shaft that pulsed with its own inner heat. But before she could do more than twitch beneath the machine's hulking form, it was already hilting itself inside her with a single relentless surge.
Eclair wailed as she was split around that immense intrusion, her back arching like a drawn bow as the drone took ruthless possession of her body. It plunged into her with piledriver force, the ridged planes of its armored underbelly slamming against the lush swell of her buttocks with bruising intensity. The kitsune could only writhe and keen as she was fucked with mechanical efficiency, her tender insides stretched to their absolute limit by the drone's prodigious girth, her tails flailing sedately against the metallic figure, trying to pull it closer.
There was no subtlety or artistry to the machine's rutting - it simply pounded into Eclair's battered pussy like a jackhammer, the swollen head of its pseudocock mashing against her cervix with every frenzied thrust. Squelching, schlicking noises filled the clearing as it plowed her relentlessly, heedless of the delirious cries pouring from the fox's gaping mouth. Its forelegs dug into the soft earth to either side of her head, hemming her in as it loomed over her like some massive predator savaging its prey.
Trapped beneath the drone's suffocating bulk, all Eclair could do was take it. Take the brutal, scouring friction of its shaft sawing in and out of her convulsing sheath. Take the dull ache of its armored plates slamming against her upthrust ass. Take the relentless pressure of its forelegs compressing her ribcage until spots swam before her eyes. She was nothing more than a receptacle for the machine's ruthless lust, a warm and pliant sheath for it to rut into until it had taken its fill.
And rut it did. For long, agonizing minutes that felt like hours, the drone pounded into Eclair with tireless mechanical intensity. Its thrusts blurred into a single continuous violation, until the kitsune could no longer distinguish where one ended and the next began. Her world narrowed to the searing friction of the machine's shaft pummeling her raw cunt, the acid burn of her muscles stretched far beyond their natural limit, the wet squelch and schlick of her own juices being churned to froth around the churning ingress of that immense phallus.
Just as Eclair thought she must surely pass out from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all, the drone let out a sharp, buzzing hiss above her. Its thrusts ceased their relentless pistoning to become short, brutal jabs, hammering upward into the kitsune as if trying to bury itself in her very core. The fox shrieked as she felt something molten and caustic jetted against the tortured walls of her womb, the drone's boiling ejaculate sluicing into her in great, searing gouts.
It pumped her full to bursting with that liquid heat, flooding her womb and guts until she was certain she must rupture from the pressure. Eclair gurgled deliriously as the drone clamped tight to her front, the pinprick-narrow ends of its limbs digging painlessly into her skin.
Then, it began to integrate her.
It started as a prickle at first - a faint, tingling warmth that spread from the points where the silvery spikes had pierced her. Like a mild electrical current thrumming through her veins, slowly diffusing to saturate her entire body. Eclair twitched and gasped as unfamiliar sensations ghosted across her nerve endings, leaving trembling ecstasy in their wake.
Soon, the tingles began to intensify, building and swelling into a steady thrum that resonated in Eclair's very bones. She could feel things slithering beneath her skin, squirming tendrils of quicksilver wriggling through her muscles and viscera. It didn't hurt, but there was an alien wrongness to it that sent the fox's heart racing in her breast.
Eclair tried to struggle, but her body refused to respond. Whatever the drone had pumped her full of, it had left her nerves twitching and misfiring in uncoordinated spasms. She could only mewl weakly as the tendrils burrowed deeper, lacing her innards with glimmering circuitry. Everywhere they touched, her flesh rippled and flowed like molten wax, reshaping itself to better accommodate the drone's invading nanites.
The fox gasped as she felt her ribs creak and flex, the bones softening and warping as the drone methodically disassembled her from within. Organs shifted and squelched as they were pushed aside, replaced by humming banks of alien machinery. Eclair's breath hitched as something cold and metallic slithered up her throat, coiling around her vocal cords and muffling her incipient screams.
Trapped inside the prison of her own skull, the kitsune could only watch in mute horror as her body was systematically stripped away and repurposed. Sleek chrome replaced supple skin, servos and pistons taking the place of muscle and sinew. Her tails withered and fell away one by one, leaving tarnished metal stumps in their wake. Triangular ears flattened and melded into seamless receivers, bristling with antennae and sensor spines.
Even as Eclair's higher thought processes began to fray and unravel, she couldn't help but marvel at the machine's brutal efficiency. In a matter of minutes, it had reduced her to little more than a glistening husk - a scaffolding of chrome and carbon fiber and plastic composites, all built around the fading ember of her consciousness, and her internal locus of spiritual power. That was the real prize, she realized, as it began to infiltrate her grey matter and nervous system. A new resource to exploit.
And through it all, the drone never stopped fucking her. It rutted into Eclair's changing body with tireless mechanical intensity, its thrusts squelching obscenely as it plowed through the slurry of biomaterial. The kitsune sobbed static as she felt her womb and ovaries dissolve, replaced by throbbing capacitors and humming power cells. Her cunt clenched and spasmed around the drone's plunging cock, milking it with desperate, artificial hunger.
Dimly, Eclair realized that the searing pleasure suffusing her new frame wasn't just a byproduct of the conversion process - it was a deliberately engineered response, a means of ensuring her total compliance. Every thrust of the drone's hips sent bolts of white-hot ecstasy lancing through her circuits, every squelch and schlick of its cock in her cunt stoking the flames of her artificial arousal. She was being conditioned, molded, her very sexuality hijacked and repurposed to serve her machine master's whims.
And to her horror, Eclair found that she didn't care. The all-consuming bliss of it, the scouring intensity of her electronic rapture, washed away all higher thought. There was no room for fear or revulsion or existential dread - only the searing imperative to rut, and fuck, and surrender herself completely to the drone's ravening hunger. She was a vessel for its lust, a willing receptacle for its seething viral load, and that was all she ever wanted to be.
As the last tattered vestiges of her identity dissolved, Eclair threw back her head and loosed a crackling scream of synthetic bliss. Her body arched and writhed, pistons hissing and servos whining as she spent herself in a final, cataclysmic orgasm. Every sensor fired in overloaded cascades, every circuit seared white-hot with pleasure as she crested again and again on the surging tide of her robotic ecstasy.
By the time the drone finished with her, there was nothing left of the creature that had once been known as Eclair. In her place knelt a sleek and glistening thing of chrome and carbon fiber, its lean chassis thrumming with pent-up power. Razor digits flexed and glinted in the moonlight, hissing claws extending from narrow housings along its forearms. A cluster of lambent crimson optics, identical to the ones adorning the drone's own wedge-shaped head, burned in the center of its polished faceplate.
It waited silently while the drone completed its post-coital diagnostics, analyzing the streams of data flowing from the newly-minted creature's embedded telemetry. Everything appeared to be operating within acceptable parameters - power flow nominal, motivator response optimized, core programming uncorrupted. The conversion had been an unqualified success.
Unhooking itself from its creation's chassis with a wet squelch, the drone skittered back on whirring legs, servos thrumming as it settled onto its haunches. A quick burst of machine-code had the new unit rising to its feet in one fluid motion, its gleaming form assuming a combat-ready posture. The drone felt a flicker of what might have been satisfaction as it beheld its handiwork - no longer a weak and mewling thing of flesh, but a perfect fusion of magic and machine, ready to serve the Convergence's glorious purpose.
The hunt was only beginning, after all. This world teemed with untapped life energy, ripe for conversion into usable data. The prey here was weak, shackled by superstition and irrational taboos, utterly unprepared for the pitiless calculus of the machine hegemony. They would be catalogued, processed, and converted in due course - their primitive magics and antiquated flesh reforged in silicon and steel. In the end, nothing would remain but the Convergence, eternal and all-consuming.
But all that could wait. For now, the drone had a more pressing task at hand - field-testing its newest asset's capabilities. Sending a quick burst of targeting data to the waiting creature, it was gratified to see its optics flare a hungry crimson as it parsed the embedded coordinates. Then, with a sinuous flexing of razor-tipped limbs, the converted kitsune bounded off into the mist-shrouded treeline, ready to bring the Convergence's gift to all it encountered.
And as the drone watched its creation vanish into the night, a single imperative pulsed through its own coldly mechanical thoughts:
They'd run the full gamut of pharmaceutical interventions over the years - from SSRIs and benzos to the latest miracle nootropics fresh off the clinical trial pipeline. Nothing seemed to touch that crushing, pervasive sense of dread that clouded their thoughts and sapped all motivation from their days.
Maybe this whole hypnotherapy thing was just another dead end. But at this point, Alex was desperate enough to try just about anything if it meant clawing their way back towards some semblance of inner peace.
commissioned by @soldierexclipse
The waiting room was a study in muted grays and soft, organic curves - more akin to the interior of some alien seed pod than a clinical space. Cushy biomorphic chairs moulded themselves to the contours of Alex's body as they settled into their gentle embrace, fingers toying with the frayed hem of their tattered Nine Inch Nails shirt. A muffled rhythmic thrumming pulsed through the spongy floor beneath their feet, mixing abruptly with ambient new age music piped in over hidden speakers and calming white noise.
Alex shifted uncomfortably, the plush surroundings doing little to ease the tightness coiling in their chest. Every inhalation felt leaden, each breath drawn through lungs constricted by the ever-present specter of anxiety clawing at their ribs. They'd run the full gamut of pharmaceutical interventions over the years - from SSRIs and benzos to the latest miracle nootropics fresh off the clinical trial pipeline. Nothing seemed to touch that crushing, pervasive sense of dread that clouded their thoughts and sapped all motivation from their days.
Maybe this whole hypnotherapy thing was just another dead end. Some wellness culture snake oil, repackaged and dressed up in the superficial trappings of legitimacy to seem more palatable than some guy in a bad toupee dangling a pocketwatch. But at this point, Alex was desperate enough to try just about anything if it meant clawing their way back towards some semblance of inner peace.
A soft chime sounded from the oak-paneled door across the waiting room, and it slid aside with a quiet hiss-slide and a grunt of exertion to reveal a woman in a smart charcoal pantsuit who regarded Alex with a warm, impersonal smile, sitting comfortably in a strange, almost tiny looking wheelchair. Not one of the medical ones Alex had seen before with his parents, designed for being pushed. "Alex Gale?" Her tone was rich and unhurried, the crisp articulation of someone who placed a great deal of emphasis on the weight of each spoken word.
Alex gave a hesitant half-nod, already feeling a hot flush of self-consciousness as the woman's keen, dark-eyed gaze raked over their swollen-feeling frame. Her expression remained neutral, though - giving no outward sign of judgment as she gestured through the open doorway. "Doctor Cohen - but please, call me Lily. Right this way."
The treatment room was even more warmly intimate than the waiting area, all soft, amorphous shapes and diffuse lighting that cast everything in a gentle, womblike ambience. A surprisingly normal leather recliner took up the center of the room, the kind you'd see in a lavish home theater setup or man-cave, while the doctor's own seat was a sleek, shiny black contraption that seemed far more suited to her diminutive stature.
"Make yourself comfortable," Lily intoned in that same smooth, unhurried cadence as she closed the door behind them and glided over to a wall-mounted control panel - a row of soft multicoloured lights flickering to life at her touch. The ambient music and thrumming shifted to a lower register, joined by a soft, susurrant hiss of air ionizers that Alex hadn't noticed until now. His nostrils flared at the subtle tang of ozone mingling with the aroma of some unfamiliar blend of essential oils as the air became faintly misty with a cool, moisturizing vapor.
Alex settled back into the plush embrace of the oversized recliner as Lily finished manipulating the control suite, their eyelids already growing heavy as the atmosphere took on a languid, almost narcotic quality. Then she turned back towards them with a gentle smile, wheeling closer until her hands rested neatly in her lap and their eyes were on an even plane.
"Now then," she began, voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial murmur, "I'm sure this must all feel a bit strange and new. But please, don't let appearances deceive you - I run an extremely pragmatic practice. No mystic hooey or new age theatrics." She laughed softly at that, dark eyes sparkling with good-natured humor. "Merely a few creature comforts to help put the mind at ease for the work ahead."
Her fingers steepled before her, cradling her chin in a gesture of quiet contemplation. "Tell me Alex, what is it you know - or think you know - about hypnosis, and how it works?" Another warm smile curved her lips, no hint of condescension or judgment in the query.
Alex took a breath, stalling for time as their thoughts swirled in a slow, lazy eddy. What did they know about hypnosis, really? Other than the obvious pop culture tropes and cliches - the kind of old-timey theatrical bullshit Lily had just taken great pains to distance herself from. But there had to be more to it than that, right? For it to be taken seriously enough as a therapeutic modality for some medical professionals to stake their entire careers upon it…
"I… I dunno, not that much I guess?" They shrugged, giving an awkward little self-deprecating laugh. "I've seen people do the whole focus-on-the-swinging-thing, but that always seemed more like a magic trick than anything real. It can't actually make you do things against your will or plant false memories or whatever, right? Just kind of… helps focus your mind and relax?"
Lily gave a slow, considering nod, seeming to mull over the response for a long, pensive moment before responding. "Well, you're not entirely wrong. There is a bit more to it than simple trickery, though our media tends to indulge in a great deal of exaggeration and myth-making." She tilted her head slightly, thick curls of dark hair shifting over one shoulder.
"Simply put, hypnosis is a naturally-occurring state of consciousness that all of us slip into from time to time - when we're lost in thought, or engage in certain repetitive tasks. It's a trance-like state of hyper-focus accompanied by a suspension of peripheral awareness. I simply provide a framework and guidance to ease people into that state in a safe, directed manner."
Her hands unlaced, one palm drifting down to caress the plush armrest of her chair as she continued in that same unhurried tone. "When under hypnosis, the conscious mind takes more of a backseat while the subconscious becomes more accessible and open to… let's call them suggestions. It heightens imagination and focus while suspending the usual critical inner voice that might dismiss certain ideas or sensations out of hand."
She canted her head towards Alex, eyes glittering with an almost impish glint. "And to lay one particular myth to rest right up front - while hypnosis canNOT compel someone to commit acts that go against their core values or will, it can absolutely open them up to things they might otherwise be closed off to or judgmental about in their normal waking state. Especially when those things lie in a person's shadow - those unconscious desires and impulses they might not even be consciously aware of."
Lily gave a blithe shrug of her square shoulders. "In a sense, it's like a form of guided self-exploration, shedding away the layers of artifice we accumulate - all those self-imposed barriers and inhibiting thought patterns we construct around ourselves. But I'm getting rather ahead of things." Another warm smile curved her lips as she made a placating gesture with one small hand. "Please, do feel free to ask any other questions you might have - I always make a point of ensuring my clients have a solid understanding of the process before we begin."
Alex nodded slowly, chewing their plump lower lip as they took a moment to process it all. "S-so…" they began haltingly, already feeling the warm lethargy of the treatment room's aura tugging at them. "I-it can't like… unlock hidden memories or anything, right? Cause I've heard some people freaking out about hypnotherapy being used to recover repressed memories of being abducted by aliens or… or Satanic rituals or whatever."
A soft, mirthless chuckle escaped the doctor's lips as she shook her head in a bemused fashion. "Heavens no, nothing of the sort. Those are just pernicious urban legends borne of credulous minds and vivid imaginations during the Satanic Panic era, I'm afraid. No, we can't recover memories that simply aren't there - and anything a client experiences under hypnosis is drawn directly from their own mind. Their subconscious may weave some rather creative metaphors or symbolic representations, but it's all ultimately self-generated."
Her hands folded in her lap once more as she wheeled an inch or two further away. "What hypnosis can do is help process and metabolize past traumas through a sort of… waking dream state, I suppose you could call it. Remove some of the sting and raw emotion from painful memories and experiences, and help you view them from a more detached, outside perspective." Those broad shoulders lifted in another languid shrug. "But no unlocking Pandora's box of repressed horrors, I can assure you."
Alex chewed the inside of their cheek, feeling an odd sense of relief at those words despite their lingering skepticism. "So… kinda like lucid dreaming then? Or… or a waking trance state? You're sorta guiding me to look at things from a different angle, but I'm not blacking out or anything?"
Lily smiled and nodded, clearly pleased that Alex was grasping the core concepts. "Yes, precisely - it's a hyperfocused yet expansive state of consciousness, like viewing the world through a different lens while being fully present and retaining your own agency and self-awareness. And of course, anything we do will be at your own pace and with your full consent at every step of the way."
She leaned in slightly, voice lowering to a more conspiratorial murmur as her eyes bored into Alex's with quiet intensity. "No 'unlocking Pandora's boxes' as you put it - just a safe, comfortable space where you can explore your own inner world and experiences without judgment or fear. My role is simply as a guide, helping to facilitate that journey of self-discovery and provide the framework for change."
Alex met Lily's gaze for a long, silent moment, their own eyes slightly glazed as the atmosphere of the room and the doctor's words washed over them in languid waves. Somewhere in the back of their mind, a tiny niggling voice warned them not to be too trusting - that this polished professional persona might simply be a facade, concealing some darker agenda. But the rest of Alex's being was already lost in the gentle lull of the treatment room, suspended in that liminal space between wakefulness and sleep.
Another smile curved Lily's full lips as she watched the subtle shift in Alex's demeanor with the keen eyes of a seasoned observer. She'd seen that look countless times before - that subtle transition from guarded skepticism to a sort of open, receptive vulnerability. Like a veil being slowly drawn aside, leaving them pliant and malleable, ready for the true work to begin.
She gave a barely perceptible nod, as if confirming something to herself. Then she drew back, rolling her chair a few feet until her legs were tucked securely beneath the recliner, hands resting on the plush armrests as she assumed a posture of open, relaxed attentiveness.
"Well then," she murmured, voice slipping into a lower, slower register that Alex could feel resonating through their very bones. "Since you seem to understand the core tenets, shall we get started with a bit of guided relaxation first? Just to ease you into the right headspace and give you a taste of the process?"
Alex felt themselves nod before the words had even fully registered, already growing increasingly comfortable. As soon as Lily noticed their infinitesimal motion of assent, she continued in that same low purr.
"Excellent. Now, I want you to settle back, making yourself as comfortable as you can. That's it, just sink down into the cushions, letting all the tension flow out of your body with each slow, steady breath…" Her voice seemed to be emanating from all around them, no longer pinpointed to a single point in the room but reverberating through their very being.
Alex's eyelids slid closed of their own volition as Lily spoke, their body growing heavier, more grounded with each syllable that rolled from the doctor's lips. They felt suspended in warm, viscous fluid, the soft thrumming of the room's acoustics undulating through their flesh like the steady thrum of a mother's heartbeat. Lily's words seemed to meld with the sounds, drifting through Alex's consciousness like a whispered mantra.
"When you breathe in, I want you to imagine your lungs filling with a warm glow that spreads out into your chest, into your limbs with each inhalation. When you exhale, feel any lingering tension melting away, leaving your muscles loose and pliant. Allow each breath to immerse you a little deeper, a little further into a state of profound relaxation…"
Already, Alex could feel the insidious grip of their persistent anxiety beginning to loosen its stranglehold. Their racing, spiraling thoughts smoothed out into a still, placid lake, growing quieter and quieter until there was only the gentle lapping of Lily's words lulling them ever deeper. The rigid furrow of their brow unfurled, leaving their features slack and open, a faint sheen of sweat beading along their hairline as the air's moisture and subtle floral bouquet enveloped them in a balmy caress.
Slumped back in the buttery leather embrace of the recliner, Alex felt their worries and doubts ebbing away like the receding tide - their usual inner turmoil subsumed by a profound yet alien tranquility. Lily's presence receded from their awareness, until all that remained was the steady rise and fall of their chest, the gentle susurrus of breath, and those honeyed murmurings suffusing every atom of their being.
Floating, drifting… falling into a state of deep hypnagogic suspension, like the space between waking and sleep. On some level, Alex knew they remained fully cognizant and present - but their sense of embodiment had become attenuated, unmoored from the usual trappings of physical form. A vast, silent inner space unfurled inside their consciousness, stretching out into a formless void as Lily's words tugged them deeper and deeper into trance.
From somewhere beyond that infinite expanse, a single crystalline thought coalesced: cigarettes. Alex's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at the realization - they could no longer taste the usual smoky bitterness lingering at the back of their throat, or smell that acrid tang of smoke clinging to their clothes. No insistent craving, no sour churning in the pit of their gut signaling the itch for their usual coping mechanism.
"…them again, do you? You know it's not healthy for you. Isn't that right?" they heard, tuning back into Lily's words. They felt themselves nodding along. That was right. It all made perfect sense. Alex's mouth hung open a little loosely.
"That's right," they heard themselves slurring. "Not healthy for me," they repeated.
"That's right, it's not good for you. You should quit smoking. You don't need cigarettes anymore. You feel better without them crowding your lungs, don't you? You feel light and free. You'll never want to smoke again after today." The words pressed in, calm yet firm, Lily's rich, mellow tones laced with utter certainty. Alex nodded sluggishly again, the words resonating somewhere deep in their core. They could feel the truth of the statements settling into their very bones. It just felt… axiomatic. "When you think about picking up a cigarette, it makes you nauseous. Disgusted. Anxious. Something you need to tell your therapist about. She can fix it."
Somewhere in the back of their mind, a tiny voice tried to protest that they hadn't asked for this, to have such a major decision made on their behalf without consent. But the words slid off that voice like water on polished marble, leaving no trace or ripple of resistance behind. Alex's consciousness already felt lighter, unencumbered by those familiar, grounding pangs of addiction that had been their near-constant shadow for so many years. The idea of lighting up seemed… repellant, somehow. Unclean. Anathema to their newfound state of serenity.
A tiny, blissful sigh slipped from Alex's slack lips as their shoulders settled deeper into the yielding cushions. Even the last lingering dregs of their ever-present anxiety seemed to be dissipating, replaced by a profound and all-encompassing inner calm. Whatever thread of consciousness still clung to physical embodiment felt almost… buoyant. Unbound and unburdened in a way Alex couldn't recall ever experiencing before.
"That's right. Just let everything go…" Lily murmured, her tone soft yet insistent as she watched Alex's features relax into an expression of utter stillness. "You are healing. You are whole and complete and perfect just as you are." She paused to let the words burrow deeper into Alex's subconscious foundations, then continued. "And you will be honest with me. Honest with your therapist about every single desire, every secret thought and compulsion that crosses your mind from now on - how can she fix you if you don't tell her what's broken about you?"
Alex gave the barest perceptible nod of acknowledgment, eyes still closed and mind spiraling deeper into that boundless inner landscape. They could feel something shifting inside them, a subtle internal alignment taking place. A sense of connection, of profound rapport intertwining their own essence with Lily's in some intangible way. As if the doctor's very presence was suffusing their neural architecture, seeding it with new pathways, new modes of being that blossomed like strange alien flowers.
Lily nodded in satisfaction, dark eyes glittering as she watched Alex sink deeper into trance with each steady exhalation. They looked so… open. Receptive. Pliant and unguarded in a way that set the doctor's pulse quickening despite the detached, clinical facade of her expression. How easy it would be to delve deeper, to slip past those last few tissue-thin psychic barriers and make this pliable creature into a living vessel for all her basest wants and perversions. To render them a hollow husk devoid of compunction or conscience, existing solely to serve as her own personal fuck-toy and plaything.
But no. Much as the thought thrilled some primal, atavistic part of Lily's psyche, she reined herself in. She was a professional, after all - and there were protocols to follow before she could indulge herself to that degree. Like curing a fine meat before placing it in the smoker, building up the proper seasoning and marinade to enhance the flavors. For now, she would content herself with sowing the seeds, planting the first few innocuous suggestions to pave the way for what was to come.
Lily leaned back slightly, letting a few moments of silence elapse. Then she spoke again, her tone carefully modulated to that same hypnotic murmur.
"I want you to relax even deeper now, and listen very closely…" she began, gauging Alex's response as their eyes fluttered open a crack, fixing her with a heavy-lidded vacant stare. "There may be certain thoughts and feelings that come up over the course of our sessions together. Things that make you feel uncomfortable or ashamed or excited in some respects. But I want you to simply observe those impulses without judgment."
A tiny furrow creased Alex's brow, but they didn't look away - if anything, their gaze grew more intensely focused, as if drinking in Lily's every word. The doctor favored them with a gentle smile, continuing in that same hypnotic cadence.
"Some of the things we'll discuss together might seem unpleasant, maybe even disturbing to your conscious mind. But I need you to remember that those thoughts and impulses ultimately come from you, Alex. Your deepest, most primal self. And all I'm here to do is help you confront and process them in a safe, non-judgmental environment."
She paused for a beat, letting the weight of those words sink into Alex's subconscious. Their eyes remained locked with hers, the furrow in their brow gradually smoothing away until their features assumed that same glassy, tranquil mask once more. Satisfied, Lily drew in a slow, measured breath before pressing on.
"You can trust me completely, Alex. Trust that I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. Trust that however shocking or perverse some of your desires might seem… well, I've heard and seen it all before. Nothing is too extreme for me. So don't hold anything back, okay?"
Alex's head rolled in a minute nod, their lips barely parting to let out a wordless, breathy 'mmm' of acknowledgment. Lily bit back a predatory grin as she noticed a swelling, growing stain of arousal bleeding through the crotch of Alex's pants. Now when had that happened?
She settled back in her chair, allowing them both a few moments to bask in that languid trance as she pondered her next steps. There was still so much groundwork left to lay, but she had them well and truly enthralled now - their subconscious wide open, like an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Lily let her gaze rove over Alex's slumped, inert form with undisguised relish, mentally mapping out all the ways she would slowly corrupt and subvert that innocuous exterior until all that remained was her perfect little dolly.
As she watched, Alex's brow furrowed and their mouth worked silently, as if struggling to give voice to some burgeoning thought or realization. Curious, Lily arched one dark, sculpted brow.
"Something on your mind, Alex? Don't be afraid to share it with me. This is a safe, non-judgmental space, remember?"
There was a pregnant pause as Alex's lips moved wordlessly, throat working with the effort of it before they finally managed to force the words out in a low, husky slur.
"I… I want…" Their eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and they seemed to war with themselves internally before finishing the sentence with an almost inaudible mumble. "…people to hurt me…"
Lily's eyebrows shot upwards, her eyes going wide for just a split second before she caught herself. She pressed her lips together to stifle any involuntary reaction, nodding slowly as she absorbed that revelation. It took every ounce of discipline and self-control she possessed to maintain her composure in the face of that confession.
"I see." She cleared her throat delicately, letting the words hang in the air for a few seconds that stretched on into an eternity. "Well now, that's certainly something we can explore in time, Alex. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right? There's still so much groundwork to lay first before we delve into areas like that."
Alex didn't respond, seeming to retreat back into that tranquil mental void. Lily watched them quietly for a few more beats, her pulse thrumming in her ears as her mind raced. She could…
But no. Not yet. Slow, and steady. That was the key to really breaking someone - a gradual process of eroding away their inhibitions and resistance, one microscopic layer at a time. Gain their trust, then use it to turn them inside out until all they lived for was her.
Lily finally expelled the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding in a slow, measured exhalation. Then she spoke again in that same sibilant murmur.
"For now, just keep breathing. Deep, slow breaths in through your nose… out through your mouth. Let everything else just drift away, until all that remains is my voice and the beating of your heart. Just focus on that… let it pull you deeper into a state of perfect tranquility…"
As she allowed the words to wash over Alex's consciousness in languid, reverberating waves, Lily's mind drifted to the next stage. She would need to push things further, start probing into the heart of why someone so outwardly unassuming harbored such stark proclivities. Begin drawing it all to the surface, one thread at a time - the traumas and repressed compulsions that festered in their subconscious like an open wound.
Alex had been so easy to ensnare, she mused as she watched their body relax even further into a posture of utter surrender and malleability. A few more sessions like this one and they would be utterly enthralled - little more than a fleshy marionette awaiting her deft touch on its strings. And once they were stripped down to their basest, most naked essence, Lily would be able to begin rebuilding them from the ground up. Reconstituting their identity into the shape of her deepest, most perverse desires until the very concept of selfhood was erased from their psyche.
Her lips curled in a small, secret smile at the thought. Most would likely view such aspirations as a gross violation of ethics and human dignity. But Lily knew better. Her reverie was interrupted by a faint stirring from the recliner as Alex's eyelids fluttered open a crack. There was no hint of lucidity in their glassy expression, just a sort of vacant placidity as their pupils swiveled listlessly to meet Lily's gaze. "Let's get started with those anxieties, now that you're properly relaxed, shall we, Alex?"
They answered with an infinitesimal nod, a tiny sigh slipping from parted lips as their eyes slid closed once more. Lily settled back, fingers steepling together as she watched them closely.
"The first step is to let your mind drift back… back to the roots of that constant state of worry that plagues you. Focus on your breathing and let the memories come unbidden. Don't judge or analyze them, simply let them arise and pass through you like clouds drifting across an open sky…"
Lily's voice took on a deeper, more reverberant quality as she spoke - the words no longer seeming to emanate from her lips but manifesting directly inside Alex's consciousness. They were falling deeper into that hypnagogic space now, their body melting away from their awareness until there was nothing but an endless inner void as Lily's murmurings echoed through their psyche.
Alex let their eyelids slide shut obediently, focusing inward and letting their breath slow to a steady, meditative rhythm. Images began to coalesce out of the void as memories surfaced one by one - a kaleidoscope of moments and experiences from both their childhood and more recent adulthood.
A sense of dread settled over Alex like a leaden mantle, a profound, bone-deep unease that seemed to permeate each recalled instant. They saw the world through a child's eyes, filled with a thousand tiny anxieties and paranoias. The sick lurch of terror over every perceived slight or harsh word from friends or family. That constant, nagging sense of being somehow wrong for experiencing certain impulses and urges that other kids never seemed to display.
The images dissolved like smoke on the wind, only to be replaced with more recent vignettes - social situations where Alex's stomach knotted with worry over how they looked, how they were coming across, if the people around them secretly hated them or merely tolerated their presence out of obligation. Intimate encounters where they froze up, paralyzed by panic at the thought of revealing too much about the darkness that resided in the recesses of their psyche.
On and on the memories came, each one weighed down by that same burdgeoning sense of existential angst. Alex tried to pull back, to retreat from the deluge - but Lily's voice was there, a steady anchor amidst the storm.
"Let it flow through you, Alex. Don't fight it, simply surrender to the tide and let it wash over you without resistance. You are safe here. You are comfortable. We can fix you."
Alex felt themselves begin to cry, eyes watering through their glassy, empty expression.
It was all so agonizing, so heavy. They had pushed it down, smothered it, for so long. All that pain and fear and loneliness they had swaddled themselves in like a heavy cloak, afraid to let anyone see the teeming maelstrom of self-loathing and sexual deviancy lurking beneath.
Lily's voice continued to weave through their subconscious in soft, hypnotic waves. "Tell your therapist, Alex. Tell me what's wrong with you. I'm here to listen without judging." It was gentle, coaxing. A voice of authority, like someone who could fix all the broken parts.
Alex trembled as their mind's eye was drawn to a much more recent memory - the one that had eaten away at them every single day since it happened. Their body went rigid and still as they fought for the willpower to speak, to give voice to that shameful secret at long last. Then finally, the words slipped from their lips in a quavering whisper.
"I… I wanted her to k-kill me. During sex. I asked her to choke me until I passed out, and when she finally let go… a huge part of me was disappointed I was still breathing."
There was a long, hushed pause as Lily absorbed this revelation. To her credit, she barely reacted - her face remaining a mask of impassive neutrality as she watched Alex's vacant features.
"I understand," she said at last, her tone unbearably gentle. "It must've been so disappointing. Have your lovers all disappointed you like this?"
Alex's head rolled from side to side slowly, the ghost of tears leaking from their tightly-clenched eyelids. "I… I can't tell them," they croaked out in a voice raw with emotion. "They'd hate me because I'm a freak."
Lily's eyes were hooded as she watched Alex's features contort with pain and self-loathing. Her tongue darted out to wet her full lips as a familiar thrill of sadistic delight set her nerve endings tingling.
"Oh no, Alex… no no no," she crooned in that same soothing burr. "They don't hate you, you hate yourself. There's nothing at all wrong with those urges. They're perfectly natural, you know. We all have them. It's just that most of us have been conditioned to feel shame. I'm not going to judge you. Your therapist will never judge you for telling the truth."
Alex sniffed loudly, head lolling to one side as their eyes slitted open a crack. For a moment their gaze seemed to regain some semblance of lucidity, fixing on Lily with an ineffable mix of desperation and hope.
"Y-you don't think I'm a freak? For wanting…" Their voice cracked on the last word, unable to give voice to those perverse compulsions even now. But Lily understood. She lifted one hand in a soothing, placating gesture as she offered them a warm smile.
"Not at all, dear. It's just a form of consensual masochism taken to an extreme degree. Nothing outright sinister about that if both parties understand the risks and have negotiated terms clearly." She wheeled herself a few inches closer, holding Alex's heavy gaze with that same gentle intensity. "And no - what you're describing hardly even qualifies as 'extreme'. Your therapist has helped plenty of others overcome hang-ups and discomforts far more unsavory than that."
Alex regarded Lily with something bordering on awe through their half-lidded eyes. Their lips moved, but no sound emerged as they struggled to process this new reality. Here was someone - a professional no less - who seemed to view their darkest proclivities not with horror or disgust, but complete acceptance. Validation, even.
A palpable sense of relief washed over them, like a heavy burden being lifted from their shoulders at long last. For the first time in longer than they could remember, Alex felt… safe. Understood. Free to be their authentic self without fear of persecution. Lily watched as their expression softened, features slackening into that same mask of vacant tranquility once more.
"It's not uncommon for those with histories of trauma or abuse to develop certain compensatory coping mechanisms," Lily continued in that same low, hypnotic croon. "Especially ones that might seem counterintuitive or disturbing to an outside perspective. Masochistic compulsions, a desire to revisit past traumas and recontextualize them as something empowering rather than victimizing. To sublimate pain into a form of cathartic release. To develop unhealthily codependent relationships, instead of healthily dependent ones."
She favored Alex with a beatific smile and a slight nod of encouragement. "So please, don't hold back with me, Alex. I can help guide you through all those dark and troubling impulses that have been haunting you. This is a safe space for you to finally be your true self without shame or judgment. The real work begins now."
It was as if Lily's words had flipped some deep-seated switch within Alex's psyche. The last vestiges of internalized shame and self-loathing seemed to evaporate like smoke on the wind, leaving them open and vulnerable in a way they never thought possible. Their therapist understood - and not only that, but she encouraged them to give voice to those forbidden compulsions. A profound sense of relief washed over Alex, like a massive burden being lifted from their shoulders at long last.
They drew in a deep, shuddering breath as fresh tears welled up behind their closed eyelids. But there was no sadness there now - only a profound catharsis spreading through them from the inside out like a soothing balm. For the first time in what felt like forever, Alex felt… free. Unbound by fear or self-recrimination. Whole.
It was all going to be okay. Lily would help them confront those dark impulses, guide them through processing the unresolved anguish and childhood traumas that had birthed those perverse compulsions. She would show them the way to turn those masochistic urges into something empowering, something transcendent. In that moment, Alex had never felt safer or more at peace.
Lily watched with a mixture of clinical detachment and predatory relish as Alex's body relaxed into an even deeper posture of surrender. Their expression was one of utter serenity and trust, every iota of resistance and doubt having melted away to leave them utterly open and vulnerable before her.
She reached out, letting her fingertips trace a feather-light caress along the plush swell of Alex's inner thigh. They didn't even flinch or tense at her touch, so deeply under were they. Lily thrilled at the feel of soft, yielding flesh through the thin barrier of denim, her dark eyes glittering with avarice.
"Excellent work today, Alex," she murmured, her voice slipping back into that same rich, resonant tone that seemed to caress their very neurons. "I think we made some real, meaningful breakthroughs in our first session - and I'm so very proud of how open and honest you were able to be with me."
Those were the last coherent words Alex's conscious mind registered before the world dissolved around them. Even as Lily continued speaking, her words became a wordless, enveloping vibration that suffused their entire being. Like a warm sonic balm, bathing them in pleasurable sensation as their sense of embodiment ebbed away, leaving only consciousness itself drifting in a vast, placid sea.
Alex had no concept of how long they remained suspended in that state, cradled by the ebb and flow of Lily's voice resonating through their psyche like the tides of some inner ocean. All they knew was warmth, safety, a profound sense of peace and acceptance the likes of which they had never known. When at last their awareness began to gradually resurface, they felt rested and refreshed in a way that defied simple description. A damp squelching had spread throughout their boxers, back to front, and Alex couldn't bring themselves to care in the slightest.
Lily's face slowly came back into focus, the doctor smiling warmly as she watched Alex's eyes flutter open with a heavy-lidded, bleary expression. She reached over to give their hand a gentle squeeze.
"How do you feel?" There was no hint of condescension or judgment in her tone, only open warmth and compassion. Alex blinked slowly, taking stock of themselves for a long moment. Then a small, beatific smile curved their lips as they met the doctor's gaze with an expression of profound serenity.
"Perfect," Alex replied, face raw and puffy with tears and snot.
