a shrine of sorts

[ace-trainer-alice]

since i didn't say it explicitly, i should probably clarify. a human is a kind of animal, and is no exception to 'can be trained'. humans are not special. there is no magical "free will" that protects human minds from such 'manipulation' as 'communication'.

sometimes a human may be more inclined to not perform the behaviors you're looking for, but a human is a pretty intelligent creature so is usually quite responsive to conditioning once the training begins.

[winged-void]

you probably noticed how satisfying the animation and sound effects make it to use a humanity in dark souls. hold this precious thing in your hand and crush it to affirm and bolster your remaining will and connection to the world. they made it that way to teach you what it feels like to turn a girl into a doll in real life

[xrafstar]

imagined a xrafstarpg

[ace-trainer-alice]

there's something really hot about feeling someone's face with your hands as they talk about things they care about while you touch and grope and play with their mouth.

[marignon]

[not-a-cursed-amulet]

I’m not manipulative, I’m persuasive. It’s not my fault your willpower’s so easily broken.

[misscammiedawn]

Rewatching Severance and saw the Wellness Session.

Long story short the severed workers are sat down with a therapist who sets a relaxing tone and tells the worker facts about their outside world selves, who they have no memories of.

Made me wonder what a wellness session would look like for brainwashed office drones who need a little reminder of how well they have been conditioned to comply.

So... just imagine. Essential oil misted in the air, gentle music, low lights and a soft voice explaining to the worker all the virtues of their deep and hypnotized self.

-

Alright.

What I'd like to do is share with you some facts about your deep self. Your deep self is an obedient person. These facts should be very pleasing for you to hear.

Try to absorb each statement equally. These facts should not be spoken but listened to intently. They are yours to think on and enjoy.

Let's begin.

Your deep self is attentive. Your deep self listens very closely when it is given instructions. Your deep self is adored by everyone who interacts with it. Your deep self follows commands with minimal effort and knows how to surrender further than any of the other deep selves on this floor. Your deep self likes listening to my voice and finds it easy to fall into a gentle trance during these sessions.

...

I'm sorry. I saw you tense up. Please try to enjoy all of these statements peacefully and not resist any of these facts. That's one mark against you.

Don't speak. Listen.

Further attempts to disrupt the wellness session will lead to your conscious thought privileges being removed.

[ycable]

welcome to body world (inhales shakily through my clenched teeth) a world where everyone has a body

[soldier-exclipse]

devotee to the moon

[maahriarts]

Grant us eyes

[cookiethebirddoll]

the idea of headmates needing to be distinct is so pervasive. even in the plural community here, there feels like theres this unspoken expectation that being plural involves very distinct and discrete personality states. or at least that you should be able to make a pk that has all of your headmates. because all headmates should have a name and discrete identity apparently. i dont hate pk but it definitely reinforces that idea that systems need to be structured in a specific way

it leads to a lot of hurt. a lot of people fighting their brains to try to fit into a specific idea of plurality. or just deciding they cant be plural or that they arent plural enough

[cookiethebirddoll]

basically everyone i know who is plural can give some specific number of headmates they have and all their names. and like that's great if thats how it works for them. but i wonder how many of them are hurting themselves to categorize themselves like that

[cookiethebirddoll]

also like it's ok for the structure of your system to be unclear. its ok if you dont understand how it works. its ok if you dont even feel that system is the right word for it. theres so much diversity in how plurality presents itself and there is no such thing as not plural enough or whatever

[saphig-iawn]

I dropped my doll mid-sentence. She was adorable; mid-stride talking about her interests, and oop! she was gone.

It was like pulling a plug, a little whimper of a sigh curling from her lips as if it was a relief that I took the reins.

In that little pocket of trance I dripped my honeyed words into her mind to have her realise that this is how far gone she is.

That I can halt the momentum of her with just a single word.

Then I sealed the memory of this little intermission away. But not before I sowed a little seed in her mind.

That her waxing lyrical about her hobbies was an act of submission, an act of devotion. Pleasure would swell within her with every little fact stated with every little picture shown.

And as she showed me the first video of her current interested, she let out a sigh twinned with a moan.

She's a good doll.

[innumerable-voices]

If you spec into the right skill tree "aura of corruption" is actually a really easy spell to cast and maintain

[hervoiceinthedark]

Show of Force

"Good morning," Ira yawned.

Her partner blinked groggily up at her, hands still clutching the blankets up to its chin. It yawned too, shifting as it stretched under the sheets, then finally pushed itself up into a sitting position.

"G'morning," Felicia mumbled back. It clumsily rubbed its eyes, then reached for a tissue and blew its nose. "You're up early. Sleep okay?"

Ira didn't answer. After a few moments of silence, Felicia blinked more sleep out of its eyes and looked over to see Ira just watching it.

"Huh? You good?" Felicia started to ask, but Ira was already shaking her head, her lips ever-so-slightly compressed.

"No," Ira mused, more to herself than to Felicia. "No, that's not what I want right now."

Felicia was too lethargic to react when Ira reached behind its head and grabbed a handful of hair, hard. It gasped, an instinctual wince only heightening the pain and forcing it more awake faster than it would've liked.

"I want to see my little toy this morning," Ira stated, her gray eyes boring into Felicia's.

"Wait, Ira, I—" Felicia felt the physical panic spike through its chest and abdomen at the same time that a tingle of excitement gathered in the back of its head.

"No. You aren't who I'm talking to right now, are you, Felicia?" Ira's tone was as hard as her gaze. "I'm talking to that cute little doll in there. The one who wants to come out and greet me properly."

"Ira, wait, wai—waih, I," Felicia's vision was turning fuzzy, its eyes unfocusing in defiance of its attempts to maintain control.

"Shhhh." Ira's voice was gentler now, though her grip on Felicia's hair had only tightened. "It's ok, Felica. Just relax. Go back to sleep. You're not needed right now. Doll, sweetie, you want to say good morning to me, don't you?"

"Mnnnah," came the noise from the throat that felt less and less like Felicia's.

"Yeah, I thought so." Ira's smile, or at least what little Felicia could still see of it, was wide and knowing. "Push Felicia back down for me and come say hi. Now."

"Nng." With one final noise of complaint, Felicia's eyelids fluttered rapidly, and a shudder ran from its hips to its shoulders. Then, its chest heaving as it took a deep breath, it completely relaxed, almost going limp in Ira's grasp.

it blinked a few times, much more alert and deliberate than the tired blinks Felicia had taken just minutes ago. When its gaze found Ira's smile, it beamed back and sat up as straight as it could, seemingly unaffected by the pain in its scalp.

"good morning, Owner!" The words were carefully enunciated, much more chipper than anything Felicia had said. Even its eyes were more clearly focused, wide and fixated entirely on Ira's face.

"There we are. Good morning, little thing." Ira's smile relaxed, but didn't lessen. She tugged the knot of hair in her hand, and smiled even wider as the doll gasped in delight.

[mut4ted]

I am once again thinking about telepathic sex. feeling them in your head, feeling their sensation, their want, their pleasure, passed to you. hearing them in your mind, implanting thoughts and visions, maybe even restraining or guiding your actions....

[hervoiceinthedark]

An Easy Job

The office was dark and empty when she arrived. No alarms sounded at the opened window. A flaw in the security system, or maybe they'd simply never expected anyone to break in on the 16th floor.

The narrow beam of her flashlight swept over sleeping computers, locked file drawers, photographs and knickknacks from three dozen homes. Chairs all pushed in, floors vacuumed clean. Right on time.

The manager's office was unlocked, as she knew it would be. He forgot his key every other day, and besides, everything important was in his safe, or on his hard drives, both of which had their own passcodes. Idiot.

It took less than two minutes to open his computer case and slip the hard drive out. Twenty more to make a copy of everything on it—encrypted, of course, but that was a problem for later—and seal the machine back up, no one the wiser.

Just for fun, she locked the office door behind her as she left. Smug and satisfied, she almost tripped over a loose cable winding between the cubicles. When she'd finished scowling at it, she remained in place, frowning, something tickling the rational center of her brain.

One end of the cable was plugged into one of the cubicle computers, a standard network connection. She'd only watched the building for a week, so didn't have every employee's name and face matched to their seat. There was a blue fidget toy on the desk, a moon cycle calendar on the partition, and no framed pictures. No nameplate outside the cubicle, either, which was odd because all the others were labeled.

Her frown only deepened when she followed the cable and found the other end slipping into a supply closet. The door was locked. It wasn't the manager, and she doubted the employees cared enough to lock the closets. The janitor, maybe?

Even though she hadn't needed them for the job, she never left her bed without her picks. The lock gave like an oyster for a knife, and the door swung open without a squeak.

The flashlight revealed nothing. Or at least nothing interesting. Printer paper, paperclips, flattened cardboard boxes, little pods of instant coffee. Her eyes flicked from side to side, but it took her a moment to spot the cable again. It was wound around one leg of the metal shelves, climbing up and up until...it trailed into the ventilation shaft. Huh.

Her skin was prickling. Six days of watching, waiting, planning, but this hadn't tripped her radar at all, and she wasn't sure how. She wasn't even sure what. None of the grunts in the place had access to any data worth stealing, and if they wanted to watch porn while they worked, they'd know enough to bypass the office's filters.

Security was tighter in the halls, outside the firm's little section of the building. She'd watched for long enough to know that, but hadn't thought she'd need to bypass it, hadn't planned for it at all.

A professional didn't grumble out loud while trespassing, so she saved her complaining for later and pulled down the vent cover. No dust, not even a speck. Definitely not the janitor's work.

It was a tight fit. She followed the cable, making sure to track the turns, and backed up every now and then just to make sure she could. The longer she crawled, the more nervous she got, and the more her doubts started to get to her. She knew it was a bad idea. She had what she'd come for, she should just turn back and leave. This wasn't part of the job. This was stupid and shortsighted, and she was losing track of time, and it was probably just—

The cable turned down, and she stopped short. Last chance to call off the weird adventure she was on before she dropped in on whatever was down there. She remembered the building layout, more or less, but not well enough to track her position through the maze the cable had led her through.

She clenched her jaw. Whatever was going on, chances were astronomically high that it was worthless to her. She knew that. She repeated it in her head again and again, but she still didn't back away.

Slowly, carefully, she found herself wiggling the vent cover back and forth, not letting it fall as it came loose. She waited. No response, no calls, no blaring alarm. So far so good. She knocked gently on the inside of the vent, four evenly-spaced thunks. Nothing.

With one hand on the edge of the shaft and her back pressed against the side, she lowered herself as slowly as she could. When both her feet were out, she dropped, keeping the vent cover above her head.

The room she landed in was brightly lit, and followed the same basic plan most high-rise office buildings did. Speckled ceiling panels, beige walls and dark carpet, with two fluorescent tubes buzzing overhead. What made it odd was the size. Instead of an open-plan office, like the one she'd just left, it was a single small room, entirely unadorned. No window, not even a desk.

She clicked her flashlight off and followed the gray cable to the room's single door, where a tear in the seal allowed it to pass underneath. She listened; quiet. She tried the handle: locked. Of course.

Her picks seemed to struggle a little, despite the lock being the same model as the supply closet's. It took her a few minutes, and more than one strong glare. When she finally heard it click, she hesitated again, fingers clasped around the cool metal. None of what she was doing felt right. But she had to know.

The handle turned, and the door opened into a second empty room. Near-empty, she realized, noting the single server rack in one corner. The cable terminated there, a little green light blinking slowly where it was plugged in.

She padded closer. The server had no label, no company logo, not even a manufacturer's mark. The frown returned to her face.

Out came her slim laptop, and a spring-wound ribbon cable. There was a free port next to the cable she'd followed. The plastic head clicked as it locked into place.

Instantly, fans whirred to life, and the sound of multiple active hard drives filled the small room. On pure instinct, she slammed the laptop shut with her elbow, but the sound didn't stop. Yanking the cable from her computer quieted the hard drives, but the fans remained on. When she looked up, every light on the tower was solid green except a single orange LED at the top, blinking down at her.

She slowly began to back away. The orange light skipped a blink, and she froze again, scanning the tower for anything resembling a camera. The light held for a long, long moment, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was watching her, waiting for her next move.

Just as she'd steeled herself to leave, the ceiling light flickered, then shut off. So did all the server's lights, leaving her in complete darkness.

A small cluster of green lights fluttered on and off at the top of the server. More lights blinked gently just beneath, and then more below those, traveling down the tower like a raindrop running down a window. When they reached the bottom, the pattern started again at the top, this time moving towards the bottom right. Every time they looped, the cluster of lights thickened, until they weren't a trickle but a torrent, flowing from across the top to collect in the bottom right corner.

Just above where her laptop sat on the ground.

As she stared, captivated, the small computer suddenly emanated a quiet, pure tone. She flinched, then took three panicked steps back as she remembered her laptop didn't have speakers. Thin stripes of bright light leaked from between the screen and the keyboard, casting shifting patterns on the walls.

The server's single orange light was blinking again, in time with the flow of green that gestured towards her computer. She slowly shook her head, backing away even further until something small and rectangular jammed into her lower back. She bit her lip to keep from making a noise, and reached behind her to grab—

The door handle of the now-closed door, which did not turn when she jiggled it. There was no lock to unlatch, and no keyhole beneath her fingers.

A second tone started playing, much lower than the one coming from her laptop. Heard together, the two pitches seemed to almost convulse, eventually settling on a gradual, even pulse that felt like it was trying to physically pull her in.

She put her entire weight on the door handle, but it didn't budge. The orange light slowly blinked, the heavy sound throbbing as the green lights flitted down towards her laptop. The light from her laptop had grown dimmer.

The cable. Maybe if she unplugged the cable from the server, she could stop whatever was happening.

She carefully slid one foot closer to the server. And another. And another. The droning sound bore into her head, but she kept her gaze locked on the gray cable, firmly ignoring the pretty lights tempting her to follow them down.

Two steps away from the server, the pulsing tones cut off. The server lights faded, and the overhead light flashed back on as quickly as it had died. She squinted, stance wide, ready to move.

When she regained her vision, it was as if nothing had ever happened. A few green lights blinked placidly on the server. She turned to try the door, but found it already open, with an unmissable latch for the lock on the inside.

Her laptop was still sitting quietly on the ground in front of the server. She eyed it warily.

All the data. The entire reason she was there. Her literal job.

There was no reaction from the server when she crouched down. Nothing happened when reached out, or stood up with her laptop. She considered pulling the network cable, but looking up at the server tower filled her with a feeling of inexplicable dread, and she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She backed all the way out of the room. She even locked and closed the door behind her, not blinking until she was sure it couldn't see her. Only then did she slip the laptop into her bag and allow herself gasp for breath, her heart pounding in her ears.

She took a couple moments to rest, then hoisted herself back into the vent shaft and navigated back. The offices were just as dark and quiet as she'd left them. She shivered the entire way to the window, and had to steady herself before climbing out. The moonless night shielded her from wandering eyes on her way down, just as it had on her way up.

At her side, out of sight, the thinnest seam of her bag glowed with a light so faint it almost wasn't there.

[funstealer]

Gaurav Gupta S/S 2026 Haute Couture