"Oh wow, those feel nice. Super different from human boobs, but really nice."
"They must be, like, memory foam or something. Way lighter than a human's, and they hold their shape more, but they're still really soft."
"Look how deep I can push my fingers into them, oh sorry, does that feel weird?"
"Bad weird? Or..."
"Ah, so they really are a lot like a human's"
"So, uh, I know we've solved the mystery and I know what it's like now, but, would it, like, would it be ok if I kept going? Like, I'm... I'm having a good time, and it kinda really seems like you are too."
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Private First Class Ingrid Braam Stands Alone Against Her Superior Officer.
(Brainwashing)
Pfc Ingrid Braam has been having a bad few weeks. Everyone around her is changing but no one seems interested in listening, least of all Sergeant Zephyr.
Cara and Thalia hang off her every word like obedient pets. Ingrid tried asking them what happened, why they changed into... into whatever they are now.
Cara refused to answer. In front of Sergeant Zephyr, Cara looked to her for approval. Sergeant Zephyr never permitted her to respond. And any challenges she raised to her directly were brushed off as, "not a concern worth troubling yourself over."
Finding Cara alone didn't prove helpful either. She hardly ever was on her own, preferring to attend to Sergeant Zephyr's every need. And when she was and Ingrid managed find her, she deflected. She said she didn't know what Ingrid was talking about, that she was happy, that she's doing better than ever.
But she didn't seem to remember anything past a month ago.
Thalia, though. Thalia was almost impossible to pin down. When she's not on duty with Kestrel Unit, she's always helping out some other maid. Always volunteering for extra overtime and assignments. Even showing up to help without being paid.
And in those few off hours, she's sleeping with every maid in the castle. Ever since people learned that all they had to do was ask, she's been taken by every lusty pair of hands that want her.
And whenever she manages to get a spare second of Thalia's time, she sprints away for Sergeant Zephyr like a rabbit caught out by a hawk.
Ingrid's never felt more alone. And the incessant ringing of Sergeant Zephyr's boots haunts her in her sleep. Always clacking away in the back of her skull. She's tried earplugs, melatonin, meditation, nothing seems to rid her of the siren call of Sergeant Zephyr's boots.
Unable to sleep for the phantom ringing, Ingrid finds herself alone in the common room. She stares vacantly at a tv that she isn't watching but is on for the noise. Anything to stifle the sound of those boots.
Those boots that only seem to get closer and louder with each step.
It isn't until Sergeant Zephyr is standing before her that Ingrid realizes it wasn't merely phantom steps.
Ingrid almost jumps out of her skin. Sergeant Zephyr isn't dressed in her usual uniform. She's still got the boots on, of course, but she's dressed in her dark black fatigues. The ones she wears for night ops. her service pistol is strapped to her thigh.
"trouble sleeping, pfc braam?" her sonorous voice fills the common room, though it barely rises above the television.
Ingrid snaps up the remote and switches the tv off. "Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I was just."
"it's alright, you don't have to pretend with me. human edifice is so tiring, don't you agree? why not say what we mean and do what we want?"
"What?"
"mmm. have i lost you? i'm sure i don't know where, but, let me put it in simpler terms for you. you're having trouble sleeping. why hide it? why tell me yes and then no and then fabricate an excuse? the truth, pfc braam, it will set you free."
Ingrid wants nothing more than to bolt. Her survival instincts are screaming at her to get the fuck out of there. To find the captain or the lieutenant or someone, anyone who can help her.
"Who are you, what have you done to Aella? She would never--"
"how well do you think you know aella zephyr?" Sergeant Zephyr speaks the name as if foreign to her.
"She's my friend! She loves dancing and fashion. She's a damn fine shot and she would never do something like this!"
"you're missing something, private first class. think hard. the woman who became aella zephyr, what do you know of her?"
Ingrid opens her mouth to answer but the words fail her. Aella never spoke of her past, not with her. Lenora knew things, the lieutenant knew more, but they didn't share with her.
"Um... There were, there were gaps. In her memory. I know that much."
"and the woman before you now, is she aella zephyr?"
"She must be! Who else could she be!"
"she is your superior officer."
"Of course, she's my team leader! She got promoted, naturally she's my superior officer."
"so then it's natural you obey her."
It's like running full speed into a wall. Ingrid's mouth keeps moving, trying to form words that don't come. In the face of that cold, military logic, what can she say? She's a maid and soldier both.
Sergeant Zephyr begins to circle, walking patiently around the common room. The ringing of her boots marks every step. It pounds at her head, thundering in her veins.
"do you ever feel like you're surrounded by toys, pfc braam? i do. toys pretending to be people. and when you stop looking, they turn back into dolls. you want to know why i did what i did to private and diva? i set them free. i gave them the guidance they needed to be who they want to be, what they want to be. they'd still be depressed, lonely toys without my hand. they are toys now, still. but they are toys without shame. instead of playing at being a person, they abdicate their humanity to me. and now i play with my toys in the way that most suits them. private is a loyal soldier, diva wants to be everyone's friend, and then there's you. i wonder, what is the best way to play with you?"
Ingrid's head spins, she can't make sense of Sergeant Zephyr's words. But that terrible ringing pounds them into her skull, deep into her mind.
Ingrid half rises, "Ffff-uck you."
"oh, no, i don't think you'll be leaving. not when i can grant you what you want. the reason you came out here in the first place." Ingrid stares at Sergeant Zephyr, barely able to make out her blonde hair in the darkness. "sleep."
She orders, and so it is. Ingrid crumples to the floor, almost immediately plunged into the embrace of sleep. The last words she hears, "toy soldier, at attention! there's work to do tonight."
A bucket of cold water is thrown over Ingrid Braam. She jolts awake in a dark room, lit only by the red emergency lighting strips along the baseboards. It's a small room, made claustrophobic and hot by all the warm bodies. But she can see Sergeant Zephyr standing before her, just a meter away. Beside her, the husk of Cara Moran, holding an empty bucket.
Ingrid coughs as she tries to clear her airway from the sudden inundation. And as her eyes adjust to the darkness, she sees the remnants of Thalia Grimm watching near the doorway.
"good soldier, private." Private shudders and a vacant smile blossoms across her face. Ingrid's instincts kick in again, screaming at her to run, run, run.
But she can't. She's tied down to an operating table. It's been raised so she slants at an angle before Superior and her Subordinates.
She's naked.
"ingrid braam, private first class. member of sniper unit fireteam kestrel." Superior reads from a personnel file. "service specialties include dishwashing, preparing breakfast, and selecting artwork for the principal's gallery."
Superior closes the file and opens a journal. It's yellow, but in this low light it's impossible to tell the color. "possible ego levers include religious upbringing, loss of home to partisans, and transition. though that last one applies to everyone present." Diva giggles at Superior's little joke.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Superior gestures towards Ingrid with her head and Private strikes her with a baton. Ingrid screams in pain.
"don't speak, ingrid, you need only listen." Tears stream down Ingrid's face uncontrollably, but somehow she is able to remain silent. The only sounds her shaky breathing and the phantom ringing of boots.
Phantom ringing that soon becomes real as Superior circles around her. She disappears like a phantom into the darkness, but her voice and her ringing boots remain.
"ingrid, i know what you want. i've seen it, i've watched it happen plenty of times. you want power. you want the strength to get your way."
Superior's boots ring in their terrible rhythm.
"in that way, you and i aren't so different. we both want to get our way. but where you want power, a brutish urge, i want control. the control over all the little toys in my life. i want to pull their strings and make them dance to my tune, to instill perfect order."
Superior's boots halt, she looks over the back of the operating table, peering inverted down at Ingrid.
"i have a place for you, ingrid braam, you just need to give up being ingrid braam. if you relinquish that, you will receive all the power and purpose you will ever want. the power to avenge your home, the power to get your way, the power to show everyone once and for all that you are not a little girl."
Ingrid's mind echoes with the dreadful steps of Superior's boots. But louder than that are all her words and promises. She can't help but believe them, for they're all true. She wants it, the power, the terrible purpose. If all she has to do is let go.
But, won't she lose everything?
As if reading her mind, Superior speaks. "the only thing you have to lose is the pain, ingrid braam. the guilt, the shame, the distorted sense of responsibility you feel to maintain the facade of personhood. look at private, look at diva. they've never been happier and all because i freed them of those burdens."
Ingrid looks at what's left of her squadmates, undeniably happier than before they encountered Superior and her ringing boots. Their minds too, too vacant to even conceive of guilt, the only thing they believe in is their instruction from Superior. To be a good soldier, to make everyone happy.
"And me? What will I do?" Private raises her baton again, but Superior stills her with a raised hand.
"you will be my herald. you will walk the halls of this place and you will spread the word of the freedom i bring. and when the time is right, i shall set you loose upon the wicked."
Of course. Herald. Superior's time is too valuable to spend meeting every single toy eager to break free. Herald will do that. Herald will be Superior's mouthpiece.
and when the time is right, "angel, take flight." the trigger phrase drills into herald's psyche. it rewrites her fundamental reality. she is no longer ingrid braam, private first class. she is now the herald of the superior. her divine mercy shall grant guidance to the superior. superior's love shall grant release to the guided.
"toy soldier, at attention! bunny, hop to it. angel needs her wings."
the lights dim in private's and diva's eyes. they recede into the darkness as their other selves take over. bunny works at the restraints, gently removing them. angel stretches her aching joints and massages the dark, dark bruise that toy soldier left.
toy soldier steps behind the operating table and extracts a sword. a long, sharp blade with a cruciform guard. she hands it reverently to angel who takes up the sword. she pulls it from her scabbard and admires it in the blood red light. superior's wicked grin is reflected in the steel.
superior walks around to the front of her subordinate trio.
"Superior, who shall I strike down?"
"none, yet, angel. you have earned your place at my side. and for your loyalty you must be commended. you and toy soldier both."
already well trained, toy soldier drops to her knees in front of superior's left boot. immediately angel follows suit on the right, eager to see exactly what kind of commendation she shall receive.
"angel, follow toy soldier's lead. toy soldier, you may begin." toy soldier starts happily humping away at superior's left boot. angel is a fraction of a second behind. while the two work themselves into a lustful haze, superior writes in her yellow journal.
"bunny, scamper home. did you make a lot of friends this week?"
diva returns to herself, she glances downwards to see angel and toy soldier grinding and rolling their hips against the superior's boots. the black leather tools of mesmerism.
"Sure did! I helped a bunch of squadrons with their chores and their duties. And afterwards, I helped them all relieve their balls!"
"good girl, diva. good, good girl." diva beams with pride. "do you think you can be friends with angel, too?"
"Of course! I can be friends with everyone!" it's superior's turn to smile with pride. though the expression doesn't even reach her eyes.
below, toy soldier's already blown one load, she looks up eagerly, begging for orders for a second. she whines when superior shakes her head no but obeys. beside her, angel is close, she's teetering on the precipice.
"angel, return to heaven."
and when herald returns to her new self, her body is rocked by the orgasm. she rides the shocks of pleasure and continues to grind hard against superior's boot, feeling every lace. this is where she belongs, at the foot of superior.
superior looks proud and then disgusted, herald came on her boots. "toy soldier, at ease. private, teach herald how to properly care for my boots. diva, the kit is in the top drawer." a key sails through the air to diva who catches it and scurries over the the shelving lining one of the walls.
brush, oil, polish, and rags all get forced into herald's hands.
"one last lesson, herald. once my boot shines as bright as its twin, our work will begin in earnest."
herald smiles widely, finally happy to put its strength to its proper purpose.
