Okay, I find it a little funny I keep being sent a post about Warhound made by my Abuser's ex-playpartner from a lot of people that arent into mechsplo. I have no issues with the ex-playpartner at all and actually wanna meet up and clear the sea of lies we were both told about each other by my abuser.
Becoming a better hound just to impress the other hound who calls me a good girl. Who needs a handler specifically when you have your teammate to impress? Just aim to be on the same level as your packmates and impress them. 
"Sir? This briefing is top secret. We discuss matters important to opsec.
Is that a hound humping your boot under the desk?"
"No."
As she folded her hands to let her stern voice ring throughout the room an audible whince emerged from underneath her desk as her hound apparently climaxed.
Hound and Handler headmates who are the result of the host repressing its desires to be a Hound, who try to take control to make the host (and possibly the rest of headmates) a Hound to then give the power to a Handler in a different system.
On Communication, Overfamiliarity, and Respecting Boundaries in Online Kink Spaces
In line with some other ongoing discussions, I wanted to add my 0.02 regarding a topic that’s very important to me.
That is, of course, communication; communication is the bedrock of any relationship, not just those that are romantic, sexual, or kink-adjacent. It’s a baseline function of any interaction, the starting point of any conversation, and comes in many, many forms. While I’m sure we’re all quite good at talking, I wanted to dig a bit more specifically into the intricacies of communicating intercommunity in a space like this, and how wires can get tangled, lines can get crossed, and we can end up in some uncomfortable territory.
At times, a space like this corner of Bluesky feels a bit *open* - people flirt with their followers and readers, flesh is posted freely, and everything exists in an atmosphere of psuedo-assumed consent. As a voyeuristic little pervert myself, I’m no stranger to posting nudes or other lewd photography, and I’m also quite familiar with teasing and (less frequently, recently) being teased by others. I tend to stray a bit away from overt, excessive flirting, myself, because I feel that it blurs lines in a way that I’m not fond of, but others lean into it - and power to them.
With that, we often find ourselves brushing against lines and boundaries. It’s happened to me a few times that individuals have left a comment in a thread I’ve posted regarding how it made them feel, and, after not receiving a response beyond a brief acknowledgement or like, have opted to take advantage of my DMs instead to reiterate their feelings. Others have steered benign conversations into sexual territory without invitation nor warrant, or have made open insinuations regarding my status of ownership, or around me wanting to fuck my friends.
Let me be clear; while I don’t mind people drooling over or ogling pictures of me, especially if I’m dressed in some sort of fetish outfit, I do draw the line at the implication that I am anything but my Sir’s sole kept and held. I draw the line even more firmly at insinuations that I belong to any of my close friends, with whom I allow myself to be a bit flirtier, simply because they’re prominent dominants in the community. My pornographic self is for the eyes, but barely for commentary, and not at all for other hands.
This overfamiliarity - and, seemingly, lack of caring toward the *person* beyond the online persona - is a killer in communities like this, and impacts both sides of the power-dynamic spectra. I’ve seen both dominants claiming dominion over free-range submissives without as much as an intentional conversation around it, eager submissives throw themselves at the feet of dominants with heaps and heaps of saccharine affection and usage of unearned titles, and all sorts of odd shit between the lines.
When it happens - especially in a public forum - it oftentimes puts the impacted individual in a difficult situation, and without a properly-developed communication skill, it becomes difficult to get out of. Questions manifest; ‘am I an asshole for not humoring this person?’ or ‘did I lead them on by playing into their bit?’ or ‘did I say something that I didn’t mean?’ As a community of (predominantly) transgender women, it becomes easy to turn our thoughts inward and scold ourselves for something that is, at the end of the day, not our fault.
For some, it becomes easier to lean fully into it, to ‘play the game’ out of fear of whatever reprisal may occur if you do not.
In a primarily-online, primarily-kink forward erotic horror space, we lose a lot of the safeguards against things like overfamiliarity that exist in meatspace. It’s harder to vet and feel someone out when you’re judging them off an oftentimes limited online presence, and even harder when you branch from occasional comments to further, more charged engagements. When interfacing with younger queer folks online - like much of Mechsploitation seems to be - you also run the risk of differential levels of development, struggles with emotional intelligence, and a lack of boundaries stemming from a variety of different causes. This is, generally speaking, somewhat uncomfortable, and it may seem easier to appease those involved; to engage in ‘pick-up play’ on occasion, without committing to anything beyond a few exchanges.
However, even casual play or entertainment - if you’re not genuinely invested in it - can lead to further issues. It reinforces parasociality and overfamiliarity as acceptable behavior, and potentially tethers a person to you. This, very quickly, can lead to overextension; if you spend all of your time trying to engage with everyone who wants your attention at a given time, you quickly run out of time to spend on those who matter most to you, chief among them being yourself. It may seem attractive to have a great many play partners, or to be able to exert your will over a number of women on a given day (or vice versa), but without careful attention to energy expended and your own capacity, it can very quickly devolve into something that eats you alive. With only a finite amount of energy and focus in a given day, trying to cater to everyone (along with everything else you have to do) will kill you faster than anything else.
So, how do you avoid such a thing happening?
First, consider your own boundaries; what kind of engagements are fun for you? What’s only fun when it’s with certain people, and what don’t you want to happen at all? You don’t need to write these down or keep them formal, but have them in mind. If someone pushes them, let them know, and potentially move along if you’re not interested in continuing. Don’t be afraid to hold them strong; no is a complete sentence, and if someone you’re engaging with pushes against your boundary, you are entirely empowered to pause an engagement for re-evaluation, or cut it off entirely.
Second, consider your capacity; how many play partners can you realistically keep track of? Are you interested in having multiple submissives and dominants, or do you want to keep things small? What’s your plan if you realize that you’re overwhelmed, and what’s potentially suffering as a result of having to do massive personnel management on a recurrent basis?
Third, consider how to break things off if necessary; what does a disengagement conversation look like? Is there anyone who you’ve told to stop contacting you who keeps reaching out, and what does it feel like to reaffirm your boundaries to them? What point does it reach where a block or mute is more in order?
While these things are all predominantly online-focused (as is the point of this particular essay), it’s important to note that proper and strong communication skills will help in engagements offline, as well - both kink-related, and otherwise.
Above all else, however, it’s important to remember that anyone behind a screen is as real a person as you are; they have lives, and capacities, and a thousand other things pulling at their commitments regularly. Boiling someone down to the importance of their online persona primarily and everything else secondarily is harmful, and more often than not has the undesired effect of becoming overfamiliar - or worse, exploitative. That’s not to say that you *can’t* flirt with or engage with someone; rather, keep in mind when things cross a line from being friendly or flirty to something beyond that, and make sure to give people their space when they need it.
Mutual respect, regardless of your place on the power spectra, is important; it’s up to you to make sure that you’re practicing it.
Okay sure. It's probably "unethical" to brainwash a girl so deeply that her own internal sense of identity revolves around devotion to me and nothing else. Sure, it's "unethical" to make little audio files for her to play that reinforce the aforementioned brainwashing whenever I'm not physically with her. To have her so irrevocably marked by my presence that she views everything in the world through the lens of whether it would please me or not. However
Hello all! I've created a sever called Colstar Mech Systems. This is an RP/Writing server for the Mechsploitation community. If you want a hub for writing, this is a good place for it.
Hope to see you all soon!
Check out the Colstar Mech Systems (18+) community on Discord – hang out with 1 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.
There’s a terrible screeching of metal as your cockpit is rent open, exposed by a glancing blow from your opponents weapon. Suddenly your senses are muddled, two sources of data now vying for the attention of your shared mind. Your external cameras shift and refocus, as light streams in through the semi-transparent visor of your flight helmet.
Your partner is screaming in the back of your mind, and the terrible phantom pain in your chest tells you exactly why. It’s a huge strain on your mind to try and decipher between the information coming from your metal body, and the information coming from your flesh one. Your cockpit was designed to mimic a sensory deprivation chamber for this exact reason, most full-immersion frames are. The sensory deprivation of the pilot makes it easier to settle into the skin of the mech, fewer external distractions to remind you of your flesh body nestled under all that metal.
All of that is gone out the window now though, as the sounds and sights of combat assault your organic form through your breached cockpit. Distantly you recognize that you’re hyperventilating, and the safety systems are struggling to compensate. You guess this is because your partner’s panic is bleeding through the neural bridge. She did just get a huge chunk torn out of her front, after all.
With a monumental effort, you wrench control back from your panicking IMP, and you feel her systems settle down a bit as you enforce some order on things. The cold air and biting wind howling in your cockpit are doing all they can to distract you, but you’ve got a fight to finish and you’ll be damned if you end up gutted in your own cockpit.
Metal strains as your synthetic body stands and pulls the giant sword from the sheath on its back. You fire the boosters in your legs, feeling the g-forces slam your body back into the pilot’s seat as you charge your opponent. Blade strikes blade, and your damaged servos strain against theirs. A shot of fuel into your boosters breaks the stalemate and you pull back, circling around the opposing mech. You have to be extra careful to protect your cockpit now, one more hit to your chest and you’ll be pulp on your enemy’s blade.
Something shifts inside you, and you feel your IMP having off-loaded some of its processing into your wetware. She’s moving the limbs on your flesh body inside the cockpit, rooting around for something, piloting you the way you’re piloting her.
The lights on the front of your chassis flicker red in glee as you realize what she’s searching for. You send a mental acknowledgment over your shared link and hunch over, preparing for another bout. You’ll get your partner her opening.
According to regulation, mechs are required to have certain items stocked in their cockpits in case of emergency. Rations, a medical kit, an emergency radio, and most importantly: A flare gun. The standard flare gun had always seemed a bit superfluous to you, what difference is a meager flare going to make in spotting a 10-story tall Mech? But you’d convinced both your CO and your IMP to let you keep a few High-Explosive rounds for the thing stored alongside it, for a rainy day like today.
So the next time you clash with your opponent, blade grinding against blade, you feel your organic body move again. Your IMP makes use of the gaping hole in your chest, and manages to plant a high explosive round directly into the emergency hatch on your enemy’s chest, blowing it clean off, and disorienting their pilot in much the same way they had done to you only moments ago. You, however, will not squander this opportunity.
You drop your weapon, slam a hand through the breached hole in your opponents chest, and pulp the bleeding heart within it. The massive weapon of war you’ve been fighting slumps to the ground, the trauma of losing it’s organic half rippling through its systems. You grab the mech’s head and pull, metal screeching and cables snapping as you tear it free from the rest of the metal corpse. You find the glint of the enemy data core and crush it between two of your massive fingers, putting the enemy IMP out of its misery.
And suddenly it’s quiet again.
The faint sensation of wind upon skin echoes over the link, and you realize your IMP has removed your flight helmet. She’s half out of the pilot’s seat, and you can sense wonder radiating through the link as she looks out at the carnage through organic eyes. You decide to let her, regulation be damned.
You’re looking out at it through her eyes often enough, it’s only fair to return the favor.
Always remember, the more comical the callsign, the more terrifying the pilot. The most skilled pilot you will ever face will be called some shit like "Honkie Doodle".
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