Shy and Shameless

18+ content. Varieties of short fiction and horny things.

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

Bratty rope bunny escape artist (credit: our partner)

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

We finished our first short story anthology, Oblivion's Weight!

It's about death and how people process it. Give it a read won't you?

[girlballs-archive]

i really want to make a game that's like. clearly imploring you to open up the files and dig into it and datamine it, and have the game files be as unobsfucated as possible strictly speaking (i.e. nothing is encrypted), but then the actual structure of the game is so obtuse that it's hard to keep track of what's happening in basic functions let alone identify any "secrets"

[girlballs-archive]

it can't be obtuse for no reason though. like there has to be a genuine thing to uncover if you can make enough sense of the "normal" code and such to separate it from the actual mystery elements. ideally the process of trying to separate the two should make dataminers feel like they're experiencing the effects of mercury poisoning

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

Weighing Options

A shockwave ripped through the frame of the mech as its dampeners finally failed after three hours of sustained fighting. The cockpit's main screen burst inward, rending the pilot with shattered glass, and rendering them blind to hard visual of the battlefield.

Radar still worked, thankfully, but was less useful in the urban combat the pilot found themselves in. This left two choices: abandon the mech, or open the cockpit and pilot by sightline even if it were for retreat.

The pilot weighed the options. They wouldn't be held liable for abandonment under such circumstances. No main screen meant no tactical data, no rangefinding, and of course, no visual of the battle space. Further, combat without dampeners affected everything from recoil to reverberation from successful hits.

Be that as it may, the rest of the mech was still in fighting shape. It was a close assault mech, so ammunition was less of a concern. Even then, its flak stock was still at 44%, and its wrist autocannon at 60%. Even the armor itself of the mech was generally holding up, though that would start to deteriorate faster without the dampeners.

Seemed an awful waste to abandon the mech that was just down its dampeners.

And the pilot had already disabled or outright destroyed several opposing mechs…

The pilot reached for the hatch release mounts.

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

"You're going to have to register for a tax stamp from the ATF (Autism Task Force)."

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

Mood: Two autists trying to understand the RAADS-R.

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

**_krxxt_**

A reminder to all Handlers in Hangar 17. Remember to lockout tagout your Hounds during mid-mission rearming for the safety of the mech team and the Hound itself. Thank you

**_krxxt_**

[puppylikespets]

Hound that gets lost while trying to find the hangar bay where her mech is at night, running around the station, starting to panic when she hears some sounds of work being done in a definitely different hangar than hers, quickly running in there hoping to ask someone, freezing up when she sees a 6' wall of muscle mechanic lady working on an older model of mech(the type without a neural interface), clearly frustrated about something. Nervously stepping from side to side as she debates with herself whether to disturb her, eventually getting enough courage to nervously ask

"m... Ma'am could i-"

Mechanic that has been dealing with impatient pilots and brass, having been stuck repairing one part for like an hour, her frustrations boiling over, punching the mech with her first, making a loud bang and yelling out while her face is still in the engine bay of the mech

"no!! I'm not putting an another mech on my schedule you fuckwit!"

Hound that gets scared, making herself smaller, instinctively preparing herself to lash out, her automatic rebreather muzzle pumping adrenaline, as she lets out a scared defensive growl

Mechanic that turns around, the angry frown on her face turning into confusion about the fact that there's a hound in her shop, then turning into regret about yelling as she sees the tiny hound just so so scared

Mechanic that softens her voice as she walks closer to the trembling hound, reaching out a hand, like you would reach out to a dog to let it sniff you while talking softly

"ah shit... Sorry sweetheart... That wasn't meant for you, I thought you were a customer... Are you lost little one?"

Hound that slowly calms down, her limbs going weak as her hormonal regulators scrub her system of adrenaline too fast for her body to compensate, weakly nodding in response to the question as she takes a step closer, sniffing the mechanic's hand

"y... Yes m... Ma'am"

Mechanic that sees how wobbly the hound's limbs are, quickly taking a chair and putting it next to the hound, gesturing for the hound to sit, and when she does so she continues talking.

"now sweetie... Why don't you tell me the ID of your handler so I can call her"

Hound that immediately perks up at the mention of her handler, immediately spelling out her ID number

Mechanic immediately messaging the handler the location, getting a message back almost immediately, handler having asked if the mechanic could wait the hour it'll take to get there.

Hound immediately falling asleep as soon as the mechanic tells her that her handler is coming, too tired from the running around

Mechanic sighing and picking the pup off of the uncomfortable metal chair, sitting down on the ground, back leaning on the mech's leg, playing with the hounds hair

Handler eventually arriving, cooing as she sees her hound cuddling against the mechanic's muscular chest, immediately thanking her for keeping her pup safe, gently picking the pup and going back to their room.

Hound that keeps thinking about the pretty, tall and muscular mechanic for like a week. One day returning from a mission, climbing out of her cockpit still high of the combat drugs, seeing the mechanic standing prepared to do maintenance on *her* mech, immediately launching herself into a hug at the mechanic

Mechanic surprised but quick enough to catch the fur missile, laughing softly as she hugs back

"oh~ someone's happy to see me... Now... Why don't you tell me the damages so I can get to fixing you up?"

hound quickly telling the mechanic every little ding and scratch, excited to have the lady mechanic's strong hands working on her mech that she can feel

Hound sitting on a soft chair, trembling as she feels the mech getting fixed up, trying not to let out embarrassing sounds as she sees the mechanic's muscles straining

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Be warned: for the only way forward is frot with peril!

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

CO

The pitch dark of the cockpit made it difficult to tell how damaged it truly was, which was moot as the Hound had been out for the better half of two hours.

The gloom was nudged away in a small corner of an auxiliary screen. A stuttering flicker of machine code started to run in a window: an emergency reboot sequence.

One by one, systems attempted to come online.

Motives: portarm-!! missing driver !! portleg-booting. . . .partial ok! 70% mobility estimated sternarm-booting. . . .partial ok! 87% mobility estimated sternleg-booting. . . .ok! torso-booting. . . .partial ok! 30% mobility estimated head-booting. . . .partial ok! 45% mobility estimated jumpjets-booting. . . .fatalerror

Comms: video-!! missing driver !! audio-booting. . . .fata. . . .ok. . . .fatalerror text-booting. . . .fatalerror

Cameras: FORE forecam1-!! missing driver !! forecam2-booting. . . .ok! forecam3-booting. . . .ok! forecam4-booting. . . .fatalerror PORT portcam1-!! missing driver !! portcam2-!! missing driver !! portcam3-!! missing driver !! STERN sterncam1-booting. . . .fatalerror sterncam2-booting. . . .ok! sterncam3-booting. . . .ok! AFT aftcam1-!! missing driver !! aftcam2-booting. . . .fatalerror aftcam3-booting. . . .ok!

Sensors radar-booting. . . .ok! estimated range: 40m satellite cam-booting. . . .fatalerror

Weapons: portvulcan-!! missing driver !! portgrapple-!! missing driver !! sternmisspod-booting. . . .ok! munition: 13/50 sternvulcan-booting. . . .ok! munition: 3/1500 sterngrapple-booting. . . .ok! battlerifle-!! missing driver !! |redacted|-armed.

Pilot: chemadmin-booting. . . .ok! STORES adrenals: 33% nootropics: 40% palliatives: 66%

vitalmon-booting. . . .ok! VITALS bodytemp-35c / 95f heartrate-40bpm bloodpr-95/50 palliativeinject-booting. . . .fatalerror

CONSCIOUSCHECK testing. . . .failure to respond. excitationprotocol-booting. . . .ok! shock-ok! check-testing. . . .failure to respond. shock-ok! adrenalinject-ok! check-testing. . . .ok!

---

The Hound roused to electrical current snaking through its body. It instinctively whimpered and shrank in on itself.

"No Handler, please! I'll do be--"

Hound realized it wasn't in Handler's room. There was no electric prod being brought down upon it. Hound was in its mech.

Right. In its mech. Memory started returning in fits and starts. Hound was deployed to disable a high priority enemy comms array as part of a lance, and encountered resistance as expected.

The intensity of the resistance, was not. The defending forces fought like demons possessed, with recklessly aggressive tactics that heretofore hadn't been encountered from these forces.

Partway through the skirmish, an opposing mech charged in close to Hound, taking heavy fire the entire way. It managed to get ahold of Hound's port arm and pull it close.

Then it detonated.

That was the last thing Hound remembered before being shocked back to consciousness by its mech's internal systems.

Hound took stock of its situation. The port side of its mech was pretty well a wreck, and it was blind out port besides. Motives were responsive, though, which allowed Hound to right the mech and stand up.

Outside was much the same. Charred husks of mech both allied and enemy alike were strewn across the ground, often in pairs. It seemed as though the other opposing mechs defending this position used the same suicide tactic on its lancemates as they had on Hound.

Frustratingly, though, the comms array still stood. It had sustained damage, but not nearly what was required to disable it according to the briefing.

Perversely, Hound's comms were out, so it couldn't give Handler a sitrep and receive updated orders. Which meant that with this being a high priority target, the orders stood.

Fuck.

Hound's present munitions weren't enough to finish bringing down the array on its own. That left one option: the Core Overdriver, a device that supercharged the mech's reactor and turned it into a single-use proton cannon. …somehow.

Hound wasn't an engineer so it didn't understand how it worked. What Hound did understand was that when the Overdriver was activated, it dropped the reactor into a hard cooldown for about five minutes after firing the cannon.

Fuck.

From the briefing, the ideal distance for the Core Overdriver in this mission was point-blank. Hound took a deep breath and willed the mech forward.

Radar was showing no activity out to its max range, which Hound noted was considerably less than its normal range of 1 klik. Its cameras were likely more useful at that range. The ones that were still operational, at least.

Hound positioned the mech at the base of the main comms antenna and disengaged the safety protocols in the Overdriver. An violet hum filled the cockpit as the device spooled up, causing the monitors to increasingly garble with static.

Well. That wasn't a side effect that Command had mentioned in any Core Overdriver briefing, nor any simulation drills. Even radar was getting spotty, not that it was overly useful right now.

The gauge was at 96 percent when the frame of the mech rocked violently to port. Hound cycled through its available cameras and almost missed it the first pass through from the thick static on the screens.

97 percent.

There: on a ridge at least 100 meters away was an incoming mech with a pulse rifle. Hound watched helplessly as it lined up another shot that hit its mech's stern leg.

98 percent.

The mech shuttered from the impact, but stood firm. Just a bit longer, then Hound could at least get out and run on foot.

99 percent.

The opposing mech lined up one last shot, an…

---

Handler Rossi was in a foul mood. The mission yesterday had gone sideways when the opposing forces started utilizing sacrificial tactics. It was unexpected, particularly for such a target.

Needless to say, the lance Rossi had sent out was underprepared and undersized. The engagement was over in less than 10 minutes. An entire lance wiped out over a comms relay yet stood.

A knock on the door interrupted Handler Rossi at her desk. She was processing some form or another; she didn't care much what it was.

"Enter."

The door creaked open and Commander Bennett, Rossi's CO, stepped into the office. Rossi stumbled to her feet and saluted.

"At ease," Commander Bennett said casually, "Please sit."

Rossi did as instructed while Bennett remained standing.

"We just received confirmation that one of your Hounds survived yesterday and even completed the mission, albeit more vigorously than we'd have liked." the Commander said.

Rossi's heart thrilled in her chest as she held an iron grip on her composure. The Hound would definitely be getting a reward for this. Possibly even escape conditioning despite its zeal in completing the assignment.

"This is excellent news, Commander. I take it said Hound just arrived back to the hangar?"

Commander Bennett's expresssion remained flat.

"Negative. Satellite imagery discovered a crater where the relay was. A reconnaissance team confirmed 20 minutes ago. The relay was completely leveled by usage of a CO."

Handler Rossi's hold on her composure slipped, confusion showing through her carefully constructed mask. The Core Overdriver was powerful, yes, but to completely destroy the comms relay? At best, it would have disabled it beyond use barring extensive repair to the facility.

"Sir? How is that possible? The Overdriver is efficacious, yes, but it's a directed beam. What you're describing sounds more like--"

"A Coronal Obliterator, yes." Bennett interrupted. "I knew you were sharp; glad I recommended you for the position of Handler."

Rossi's back prickled with cold sweat. Coronal Obliterators were incredibly destructive: essentially a flash of a microscopic black hole that did precisely what Commander Bennett was conveying. No rubble, no radiation. Just empty space and a crater.

They were also considerable in size due to the support modules required and energy needs. A single Obliterator was essentially a tread-mounted bomb with an energy accelerator strapped around it.

Handler Rossi regained her composure, her mask firmly back in place as she stood.

"Did one get deployed with the Hound in question guarding it?" Rossi asked.

"What? No no. …well," Commander Bennett smirked. "I guess you're not quite as sharp as I thought. The Hound wasn't guarding a CO, so much as it was a CO."

Rossi's grip on her emotions was completely lost. Confusion, then realization, then dawning horror worked across her features.

"The Overdriver. That's the energy spike needed for the Coronal Obliterator. But how was the size worked down so small?"

"The science wonks figured it out. That's all I know," Bennett said dismissively. "The real trick from what I understand was getting the Obliterator to piggyback off of the Overdriver and the Hound's neurointerface. This was the first field test, actually. I must say: I do like the results."

Field test.

"Sir," Handler Rossi shakily said, fists clenched at her sides. "You mean to tell me: a comms relay was worth the cost of an entire lance?"

Bennett's shit-eating grin gave way to stern disgust.

"It was twice over, Handler," Commander Bennett spat, "Not only was the CO test a success, it destroyed a key darkops research facility."

"Darkops re--?" Rossi trailed off as the final piece snapped into place.

The guard retinue was the expected size and complement for a comms relay, but the ferocity hadn't matched the assignment. Of guarding a highly sensitive darkops site, though…

Rossi knew better than to ask why she hadn't been informed of any of this: she was a Handler. Her job was to condition and direct her lance of Hounds as ordered.

In this instance, instead of orders to disable a comms relay, Handler Rossi's actual orders had been to send her lance to its death explicitly for the purpose of testing what amounted to a new self-destruct device.

"Am I to take it that the revised CO will be seeing deployment?" Rossi asked.

Bennett's smirk returned with an edge of petulance.

"What do you think, Handler?" Bennett responded. "See to it that your conditioning works in accepting an order to activate such a device."

The Commander left the room to Handler's salute. After the door closed, Rossi collapsed to her desk in tears.

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

Hound/Handler but it's retail

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

Indoctrination

Hounds aren't the only ones that are broken down and reconditioned. Handlers fall into that category, too. Their conditioning is a bit different, though. Instead of sleep deprivation, backhands, and chemical cocktails, it's jingoism, indoctrination, and dehumanization.

The last is the most critical and starts earliest, and plays into why mech pilots are Hounds instead of 'pilots'. All the easier to take an electric prod to something you consider not quite human.

There are washouts, of course, with uncrushed empathy is a primary driver. Command found other cocktails for Handlers did work in curbing such tenderhearted tendencies, but dulled the mind in critical thinking.

Tales circulate around base about Handlers swearing they recognize a Hound as it was being frogmarched past them as a former classmate, but such rumors are mere speculation.

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Actor playing Link in the Legend of Zelda movie not gonna get SAG points for the work; it's a non-speaking role

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

Rabid

Two shots rang out, cutting the manic screaming dead. A sobbing engineer was pinned by the Hound ragdolled onto him, its teeth still buried in the tech's shoulder. The Hound's Handler lie motionless beside them, her neck a smear of gore.

The agent that put the Hound down thumbed their radio. "Put me through to the Commander."

. . .

This was not something the Commander needed to deal with today. The sortie this Hound was returning from, while not a botchjob per se had been a total shitshow. The lance had been ambushed by heavy infantry that knew what it was doing.

The lance completed its mission and wiped out the unit of heavy infantry, but at considerable cost. Heavy damage to the entire lance, one mech was completely destroyed. Its Hound somehow survived; small favors, The Commander mused. Possible discipline needed, though, based on how it did survive.

Now, this. A cold Handler on the deck and her Hound the reason besides. The engineer was also going to be a wash for the next two weeks at least with the lacerations to his shoulder and arms, according to Medical. The conditioning and counseling to re-attenuate the tech to working around Hounds again possibly an additional month.

The Commander pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She began her assessment of the situation at the foot of her dead Handler.

The root cause of the Hound's malfunction needed to be pinpointed and corrected for. She needed a new Handler, and a new Hound. This was going to affect morale basewide. Support staff might start getting skittish around the Hounds.

…and the Captain was going to want a sitrep 20 minutes ago with answers for how everything in that list was going to be managed.

It was going to be a long night.

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All right so the 'Frequently Bought Together' amazon image accuracy meme for trans folks.

Transfemmes with stripey socks, spinny skirts, sports bras Transmascs with binders, cargo shorts, button down shirts

Starting to see others, with the most recent being mechspo with the 'Frequently Bought Together' with Warhound of a muzzle (and another sophont seeing syringes next to that).

So has us wondering: what do other Empty Spaces / Trans-infested (positive) fandoms have in their 'Frequently Bought Together'?

Maid... is shockingly empty. Lots of sexy costumes instead of outright maid outfits.

Doll outright as a search doesn't turn up much other than costumes. Does feel more like it would be accessories, though. One of these ones maaaay have hacked together a windup key that goes clkclkclk, for example.

Princess has tiaras, which has elbow-length gloves... but like.

HDG... don't even know @_@ Maybe a bag of frozen broccoli florets?

[passionatepeanutbuttercup]

Lol. Guffaw, even.