Imagine.
Cuddledrones talking one morning before open hours; some lucid, some not. A bratty Cuddledrone starts talking big about its resilience and willpower to resist Dronedrugs, it’s not even that hard!
somehow not realizing she’s in earshot of Mistress, lounging in her conversation pit.
With a mischievous grin Mistress pulls herself partway out of the pit for a little extra reach and—
Opens her mouth and clamps down over the bratty Cuddledrone’s head (and neck, and shoulders; her pets are just so adorably small compared to her), briefly plunging it into complete darkness and muffled sound. She wraps a hand around its middle and lightly presses down against its belly, just enough pressure on its diaphragm to force an exhalation. Mistress winks at a nearby Cuddledrone, and with a click and a hissssss a mostly full tank of vaporized Dronedrugs depressurizes into her mouth, thick smoky vapor venting out in jets from Mistress’ nasal ducts and in the few gaps in the seal formed by her mouth. The captured Cuddledrone involuntarily fills its lungs to capacity with its gasp of surprise, its consciousness and ability to string more than a single thought together thoroughly obliterated for the next few dozen hours.
Mistress releases the Cuddledrone from her maw, with a pat and a smooch on the head. It can only respond with quiet wordless vocalizations of incoherent bliss.
Manna smiles and gently reminds the still lucid pets who were witness to the act that their states of lucidity are permitted at her whim, and is more than happy to demonstrate this loving authority, should necessity arise. Several Cuddledrones quickly devolve into flustered messes from both this reminder and the sudden shift in the sensory network, and Mistress returns to her conversation with hardly a missed beat.