"Can we please start slow this time? We don't even know what's in these." Abby cranes her neck over the back of the couch to look at her roommate's fistful of pills. "If I have to take you to the ER, I'd be the one telling them you OD'd on princess pills." "First of all, it says right on the label. Nothing in here but—" Fae turns the pill bottle over in faer hand to read the label. "—noblissamine obligate and some quick-release sovereignolactone. Second, no you won't. If anything happened, you'd tell them I took maid pills, because what good is a princess without a silly little maid to dote on her?" A demure smile tugs at the corners of Ivy's mouth like it's being pulled taut. "S-Someone to put her hair up and make sure she's all taken care of!"
"Ooh, I don't think I've heard you make that sound before." Abby looks over her shoulder, impressed. "Finally putting in the work with voice training—" She turns all the way around just in time to watch Ivy's purple ponytail turn black at the roots. Dark tendrils spread out from faer scalp, through the star-spangled bow fae ties faer hair up with, and all the way down to the tip. It even springs back up into an unassuming little curl that wasn't there before.
"How are you doing, Ivy? What's your color?" Good kink communication pays dividends. Abby's heart skips a beat. "Fuckfuckfuck this is hot," she thinks. "Please be okay so I can find this hot."
"Oh, I'm green, of course! I'm feeling wonderfully maidly and I just can't wait to serve! I'm simply ever so embarrassed that you've caught me out of uniform. Might I ask you to help me get changed before my princess arrives? She gets so delightfully devilish when her maids aren't prepared!"
Abby releases a shaky sigh. Relieved and aroused. "I think that could be arranged." The freshly minted maid hustles over with all demure speed to help Abby to her feet. She even bows her head.
"Thank you." She clears her throat. "Shall we?"
Ivy does the best curtsy fae can in tights and scurries off to faer room. The elastic mostly just slaps right back against faer legs, but it's the curtsy in your heart that counts.
Ivy's room is… it's not a mess. It's not the kind of thing you necessarily need a maid to clean up, but you don't take Dr. S's Maid Pills For Sex because you have a lot of cleaning to get through.1 There's clothes that haven't been put away, sex toys left within easy reach, and a bed whose sheets could use a wash. The path to the closet is clear enough for the maid to elegantly, confidently step between discarded prescription bottles and pirouette around an old laptop left so carelessly on the floor. Someone really should put that away.
Fae's in the middle of reaching down to pick it up when Abby pointedly clears her throat. "Right! Of course! Outfit first! I'm such a silly little maid sometimes, I don't know what I'd do without someone in charge!" The smile gets bigger and tighter with every passing word. Fae leans foward into the closet, showing off far more ass than really necessary. Not that Abby's complaining. She's about to work up the nerve to grab a handful of maid butt when fae turns back around.
Calling it "a maid outfit" is generous. It's just enough black fabric to cover the tits without providing any real support and the least effective apron known to man, woman, or anyone who knows better. The headdress is serviceable in that it's hard to mess up some white lace too bad. The apron couldn't even keep an indecent exposure charge off of you. An unmaidicated Ivy would have said "it was half off". An Abby that wasn't taking deep breaths just to keep her screaming gay impulses under control would have replied "more like eighty percent".
Back in the real world,2 Ivy pouts, holds the outfit against faer chest, and hits Abby with the big ol' puppymaid eyes. "Oh, miss, you've been ever so helpful to this silly little maid—" Fae shudders when the words leave faer mouth. They come out like a moan and a blissful sigh all at once. It feels so good to be a silly little maid. "—But it simply wouldn't be right for me to disrobe in front of anyone other than my perfect princess!" Fae minces closer and lets faer tongue roll out of faer mouth. A pair of princess pills sit right there on the tip. Abby's played magician's assistant often enough to be familiar with Ivy's sleight-of-hand, but she's never seen sleight-of-mouth like this.3 "But if you would be my perfect princess, I would be honored."
Abby looks at the pills. She looks into Ivy's eyes, clouded in that horny way you can only get through erotic pharmaceuticals. She runs a hand up the bulge in her sweatpants. Ivy's soft, firm hand cups Abby's and guides it up and down. A good maid must demonstrate the proper speed and pressure for bulge fondling, after all! Fae takes her chin in the other hand and tilts her head up to bring their mouths close. "Pucker up, Princess."
Abby enthusiastically completes the kiss. Her tongue probes into Ivy's mouth and scoops up the pills— though not without a playful fight from the maid, of course. As the pills vanish down her gullet, the maid goes for one last mischief. "Mischief", in this case, is the name of Abby's left boob, prized for its heft and jiggle and rivaled only by its twin.4 Faer fingers sink in deep. Deep enough that fae knows fae'll get a very cute noise out of it.
And that moan does come. Abby's thighs clench.
An uncharacteristically firm hand grabs the maid's wrist and wrenches it away. "Did your Princess give her maid permission to touch the royal bosom? A maid that is out of uniform, no less." A stern smile tugs at Her Regal Highness, Princess Abigail's (may she reign eternal) lips.
"N-no, Princess. Of course not, Princess." Now it's Ivy's heart's turn to flutter. Faer eyes stare, transfixed, down the barrel of a loaded princess. Faer heart skips a beat and faer breath catches in the way it only does when, for example, your really cute coworker/magician's assistant/roommate/friend-who-is-a-girl/kink partner lets her domme side out to play for once. The fact that the pills are making her short red bob explode out into regal crimson tresses just makes it hotter. The cascading locks fall over her shoulders and slow down only once it piles up against the ground.
A loud, resolute Snap! makes Ivy stand up even straighter than before. The hair on the back of faer neck stands up with sheer erotic anticipation. "Maid." Princess Abigail (may she reign eternal) stands up straight. Ivy was always the taller of the two. This just means the princess has to project a little more dominant energy, and project she does.
"Silly Little Maid Ivy, ready to serve, your highness!" Faer shoulders are back, faer chin is out, and faer chest is as puffed out as it will go. It's a state you only see Ivy in under the influence of either femdom or stage performance.5 "I was just about to get dressed, if her highness would like to ensure it is done to her liking!"
Princess Abigail (may she reign eternal) cocks her head as if she cannot believe what she's hearing. "A maid." She says, twisting the wrist until her maid moans from the crossed wires of pleasure and pain. "Does not have a name." Her eyes, piercing and gold, bore directly into the maid's soul.
The maid struggles for a split second, as if a maid would ever dream of betraying faer perfect princess. "A- a maid does not have a name, my perfect Princess!" The cloudy swirls in faer eyes shift and thicken. Faer eyelids flutter while any suggestion that this particular maid might have ever had a name is dusted, tidied up, and promptly thrown out. "Thank you for relieving me of the burden of my name, Princess!"
"A maid." Princess Abigail (may she reign eternal) continues. "Is a thing. A maid is an extension of the princess's will. A maid has precisely what a maid needs to complete the princess's task."
Princess Abigail (may she reign eternal) turns around and tilts her nose up. "Hair up." A princess has to have long, lovely hair, but having it all loose is really only appropriate for the short time after waking in the morning. It really should be done into something more presentable before anyone sees.
Maids, of course, do not count. Even maids that are shamefully out of uniform. Maids are the anonymous hands pressed into service to braid the princess's hair and make sure it is appropriate for the day's schedule. The demands of keeping court weigh on the royal head in a much different shape than a parade. A maid is expected to know this and do it without a first thought, because thinking is for princesses. Princess Abigail (may she reign eternal) looks around for the scheduling maid and, failing to find one, makes her frustration known with an angry snort and recounts today's agenda herself. "Since, clearly, nobody bothered to train this new maid, I'll have to do it myself. Honestly, an untrained maid is worse than no maid at all." She scoffs and snaps her fingers above her head. The maid's chest puffs out and shoulders fold back, pulled taut with pharmaceutically-enforced attention. "Hair bun and braid. Tight."
The maid nods enthusiastically! That maidly heart flutters! Princess's first proper order! What more could a maid want? Those hands get to work, even as they really should be gloved in silk when handling Princess's hair. The pills help, chemically nudging the nerves and neurons the right way to ensure the task is done to Princess's exacting standards. An un-maidpilled Ivy could have gotten 90 percent of the way there off theme park experience alone. When you work for a place that has to ask its actors to do landscaping, you have to help each other with hair and makeup, too. Lengthy locks of shiny red hair coil around nimble fingers and entwine into elegant braids. The princess lets herself be led to the vanity where she can sit and monitor her maid's progress. Hairpins are pinned, elastic snaps into place, and Princess Abigail (may she reign eternal) barely has any feedback. Merely a preference for a clockwise bun winding and that the first braid was "far too loose, like that ambassador we fed to the tigers."
When the maid steps back, Princess Abigail (may she reign eternal) rises to her feet and inspects her hair. She cracks the slightest smile known to science, and her maid's heart sings. "They picked a fast learner. A shame they didn't bother to communicate the dress code." The princess sneers at the so-called maid outfit laid out on the bed. "Easily fixed." She takes her maid by the ponytail, since trusting an untrained maid with a decision, even a simple one, is simply irresponsible. A properly trained maid would never make a decision— the following or staying would be automatic and based solely on Princess's wishes. Princess Abigail (may she reign eternal) leads her maid out the door, plowing through the debris that is both clearly beneath her notice and that is someone else's problem. Her darling maid's breaths get less and less regular as the sheer erotic bliss of servitude runs up against the need to be Princess's well-behaved servant. This mighty struggle manifests as a gay little shudder that runs all the way up the body and down the ponytail leash into Princess Abigail's (may she reign eternal) arm.
"Ensure the rapture of mindless service to your princess doesn't interfere with your work, maid." Princess says, and that trembling turns inward. If maids were allowed to think, this one's inner monologue would be an endless loop of "Yes, Princess!" and "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck this is hot fuckfuckfuckfuck". Those would-be thoughts might pause when the princess deposits her maid in front of the royal closet (may it clothe eternal) and extracts a proper maid's uniform. The skirt goes past the knees, there are plenty of ribbons and bows, and the apron is lovingly decorated with a network of embroidered hearts. When Abby goes maid mode, she does it right.
"There is a pernicious rumor among my maids regarding what happens to those I catch out of uniform. I trust I do not need to repeat it." The uniform dangles from its hanger off Princess Abigail's (may she reign eternal) index finger until her maid takes it. "What is it? Delightfully devilish?"
The maid dutifully sheds those princess-disappointing street clothes, letting those breasts heave free and those curves slip out of those tights. It is not until the apron is tied on that Princess Abigail's (may she reign eternal) maid notices what the princess is doing. The telltale rattle of a prescription6 pill bottle is hard to ignore. The maid watches Princess swallow a few pills. The rest sit on the royal desk (may it stand eternal) where the maid's mess-sensitive eyes notice a few loose red capsules, coiled shut with a spaded tail. Princess's maid barely has time to secure the lace cap before being tackled to the bed.
A maid can really only stare down the loaded barrel of a wonderfully imperious princess, watching as her red hair pokes and points into short twin horns on either side of her head, just above the braid. She grins a scheming grin with fresh fangs trying to peek past her lips. Her hands, complete with fingernails already sharpening into suitably infernal claws, dig deep into a maid's chest. The maid that is currently short-circuiting with gay thoughts, trying to determine if it'd be appropriate to moan or to simply thank Princess for using her maid as she wishes, mind you.
"Let it never be said that Devil Princess Abigail (may she reign infernal) does not give her subjects what they want."
DEVIL PRINCESS ABIGAIL WILL RETURN IN PRINCESS PILLS 2: CROSSFADED
She sells different pills for that. ↩
Okay, yes, the story is fictional, but the world that's real in the fiction. ↩
Partially, but not exclusively, because it's hard to see what the inside of someone's mouth is doing while they suck your dick. ↩
Named "Trouble". ↩
But not both— that overflows the Ivy and makes fear collapse into a heap. ↩
You could say that Dr. S prescribes things, but it's not really a prescription if she just gives you the pills and doesn't write anything down. I guess that means they're just scribed. ↩
It was not necessarily a matter of time before that supervillain ran into Mercí City Nerd Convention, pursued by the Iron Titan. You've heard the story before. Hotshot good guy, new to the scene, wants to prove himself by besting one of the biggest names in costumed villainy. Like most heroes who try the same thing, he's never considered that there might be a reason Modemoiselle sits at the top of the food chain. He might not even have noticed that the more experienced heroes won't engage with her solo. It's not like it's a secret where all those magnificent murdermaids come from.
But no hero ever made the papers with the safe choice.1 No heroes make the papers any more- the Mercí Monitor went online-only years ago- but glory is glory.2 Omelettes and eggs and all.
This particular egg won't let the threat of omeletteification stop him! He charges headlong through the double doors, blowing right past the line, and stopping only when con security swarms the metal man breaking through the turnstiles and explaining that "Sir, please, I know you're dressed like a superhero, but you can't just smash in through our doors and skip the line. You're scaring everyone. Look, show us your ticket and we'll let you in if you promise to set a good example and not do it again. I know that shiny body paint is a pain to apply, but it doesn't give you the right to break the rules."
To which he, of course, has to do the thing where he pats down where the pockets would be on his tights and sheepishly explains that he must have left it in the car. "I'll be right back." He says. A few cheers and "That's what I thought!"s come from the line he so rudely skipped. He makes his way out the door, confidently as he can, before the girl in the rainbow-haired goat cosplay throws one of her hoof boots. He might be made of metal, but so are the horseshoes (goatshoes?) on the bottom and it's really hard to get scratches and dents out of your own skin.
He pushes his way out the double doors, already on the lookout for another way in. He's looking up at the fire escape when a descending clutch of lesbians, dressed in their finest aposematic colors, begin to circle.
"I thought I smelled tin and tights." The looming, predatory catgirl sniffs the air at him. Her leather jacket is the same color as the asphalt behind her, but her big ol' calico ears and the baseball bat on her shoulder make it clear she's not interested in stealth. The bat whirls around and catches him on the chin. Her fangs poke through her grin when she forces him to make eye contact. "Purretty impurressive for somenyan who furgot to buy a ticket."
Iron Titan tries to square the circle of "make it clear that he's a real superhero, and so should be exempt from random catgirl-based menacing", "realize he's outnumbered and maybe should not tell these villain-coded queers that he means them harm", and "don't let on that he's aroused by this for reasons he'll have to unpack later."
The conflicting desires pull his head in different directions until they fizzle. The best he can do is the sort of appalled sputter you usually associate with Victorian gentlemen about to drop their monocle into their tea. The only reason he doesn't actually say "I say!" out loud is that the world moves on without him. The only sure thing is that he absolutely failed objective three.
"It's a shame you dressed like a good guy." A goblin, half his height with tits like a watermelon, digs a claw into his tights and gives them a solid snap! E looks up so he can see eir unimpressed sneer. "If I was gonna wear clothes that showed off my cock- and I do-" E leans back to get the tits out of the way of a fist-sized bulge in some awfully tight pants. They're either already ripping around eir thighs or they came pre-torn.
"You'd be much cuter as a villnyan." The catgirl.
"Or a hench." The goblin.
"Or a girl." The towering black draft horse snorts, pink circuitry spreading from the hearts on its flanks up to its tree trunk neck and down to its unshorn fetlocks.
"What's wrong, capesplayer? Furget to get a ticket?"
"Thought you could just claim you were chasing a supervillain to get in?"
"They got wise to that after three separate Justice Cules charged in last year."
"But if you purreally want in."
"You could walk right into the con with us."
"Just part of the herd."
"Nyaturally, we'd have to do something about that outfit."
"Much too hero-coded to hang out with us."
"But I think we could figure something out."
"If you're gonna clawsplay, you gotta bring nyantingencies."
"Needles. Thread. Hot glue."
"And plenty of spares." The goblin spins a short pink wig on eir finger.
"Can't have yourself a wardrobe meowlfunction in furont of everynyan." A claw digs into those tights and starts to pull and pierce. "That's the thing about nyandex. One tear and it all falls apurrt."
"Especially if you get the cheap stuff." Three sharp points drag down his back. His metal skin is barely scratched, but the tiny elastic threads that hold the tights tight to his metal muscles fray and unravel. "Good body paint, though. Got your priorities in order."
The team in front- the cat with the bat, the huge horse, and the goblin with the scary-sharp teeth- advances in unison. The whole ruckus wakes up the rear guard- the pop star, the cheerleader, and the demon- just in time to welcome him into the alley. Those claws never leave his spine.
He panics in that way fresh heroes often do- violence first. They have him surrounded, after all, so it's correct to punch in every direction. He starts with the horse. It's the biggest target and he thinks he can punch it backwards while it's on two legs. His Palladium Piston Punch connects with its chest and does send the horse stumbling backwards into some garbage cans- and invites the other five to close ranks.
"Oooh, a real cape! What a treat." The demon's claws scratch down his exposed back. The way his body swells and bulks up when he does his little punch was enough to shred the rest of his uniform. "Well. A real hero, at least." A boot grinds his cape into the ground. The goblin takes it in all its tattered, torn, faded glory and ties it around eir neck. About an inch of it still drags on the ground.
He tries to make threatening eye contact with everyone at once, fist still charged up and ready to punch. "Look! I'm just here for the ruby! No one else has to get hurt! You saw what happened to your friend." He glances towards the trash cans to see Modemoiselle's henchhorse rising with barely a scratch. Those trash cans absolutely crumpled in the impact, though. It stands up, shakes a few old coffee grounds off, and joins the fray. A single snort at twice his height dares him to try that again.
"Is that all?"
"We could take you to see Mod right meow." The catgirl's bat catches him under the chin again and forces him to gaze into those pink, slitted eyes. He's preparing to Palladium Piston Punch right in her bared fangs and those hungry, shining eyes when she says something to give him paws.
Well, the goblin, with a little lift from the cheerleader, actually puts the paw gloves on his hands, but it's the catgirl that makes him hold still long enough to make that easy.
"Meow's the perfect time to blend in with us." She slides closer so her claws can scratch against his chin. She feels his breath catch in his throat and begin to slow down. He stares, transfixed, at those shimmering eyes.
"Yeah." The goblin takes the opportunity to wrap eir tits around his clearly hard cock. Well. Clearly erect. When you're made of metal, you're kind of always hard. It does sort of unscrew when he's aroused, and that's what's happening here. "We still think you're a cosplayer trying to sneak in."
Which, in a way, he is.
"B-but, I-" His hips thrust and his mind starts to melt.
Fingers snap behind him and his head jerks to look. The demonermaid, with her little red horns poking up through her short hair, grins. Swirling pink smoke slips through her sharp teeth. She takes a deep breath in through her nose, brings two clawed fingers to her lips, and blows a kiss- and Modemoiselle's mind-fogging musk- right into his face.
"Not quite the real thing." Clouds of pink gas leak from her nose when she sneers. "But it should hold you over."
He tries his best to hold his breath, but even iron lungs need air. The goblin headbutts him in the gut between titjob3 strokes to force a desperate gasp for air just in time for the next cloud to hit.
"You know, so long as you pretend to be a cute little brainwashed dolldermaid, we'll take you right to Modemoiselle."
"And we'd be none the wiser~"
His iron eyelids have the weight of titanium. If he didn't know any better- and soon, he won't- he'd swear they're getting denser with every breath. Especially as breaths get shorter and shallower under the goblin titcareer onslaught4. His pretty kitty paws try to grab eir hair and pull em off, but when e sticks fast, he settles for blissful kneading.
"C-cute little brainwashed dolldermaid?" He gasps.
They all nod. It takes the horse a surprising amount of force to pry the goblin off that iron cock. E huffs, of course, until the horse offers to let em finish on it later.
"Rah rah rah and ring the bell! You're infiltrating Mod SO well!"
Modemoiselle's cute little brainwashed dolldermaid nods a little, with the help of the catgirl claws guiding that chin up and down. It's only natural that a dolldermaid, or a hero pretending to be one, would need a little help moving around. "Dolls are made to be played with, after nyall~"
A long, feline tail wrapped around the doll's neck creates a lovely leash. The catgirl stands up straight and proud and joins the gaggle of murdermaids advancing inside the con space like they're returning triumphantly from a heist.
And, in a way, they have.
A quick tug from the horse pulls the back door off its hinges. The sound of metal stretching to its breaking point and bursting under the stress nearly shakes Modemoiselle's newest dolldermaid out of- well, the other murdermaids seem to have settled on "it", so let's say "its musk-minded revelry". But another mouthful of musky pink smoke and a cheerful kiss on the cheek sends it sinking back under their spell just in time to be led through the con floor. The crowds, the sounds of nerdy excitement and conversation, and even the occasional staring attendee, asking their friend "Is that Iron Titan cosplayer with the cock fully out just getting led around by that catgirl? Fuck, I'm jealous.", all just wash over it. Paying attention to things and looking around would risk breaking character, and then it'll never get to infiltrate Miss Modemoiselle's organization deep enough for Mod to gaze into its dull, platinum-heavy eyes and fill its head with wonderful words and sinister thoughts!
There's a lot of winding and wandering through the con floor, far too much for an empty little dolldermaid to keep track of. The frequent spins and turns do a good job of keeping its mainspring wound, though! No matter how much it walks, it's always erect, ready to serve, and bouncing along with a real spring in its step! If it was allowed to feel anything other than blissful and blank, it might feel a little sad when they finally arrive at the door marked "Exhibitor's Lounge". It's dimly aware of the sound of conversation on both sides of the door, but it's too close now to risk breaking its cover! It thrums and leaks with anticipation as the goblin stands on eir toes to beep a key card and open the door.
Whatever parts of Iron Titan hadn't yet been subsumed into the cover perk up. Modemoiselle is sitting right there, legs crossed, laughing that lovely, cackling laugh. The Rapscallion's Ruby sits right between those enthralling thighs! The other maids proudly present their captive. The dolldermaid stands at attention in the presence of its magnificently menacing Miss Modemoiselle. The catgirl bumps its butt with a bat, encouraging it to present itself. It does, of course. Back straight, cock erect, staring straight ahead at Miss Modemoiselle despite how good it would feel to fall asleep in Miss Modemoiselle's big, comfy skunk tail. Its eyes may flick to it once or twice.
"Guess who we found~!" The goblin, tattered cape still hanging proudly around eir neck, displays the dolldermaid like one might present a new car at a game show. "A certain chromium cape thinks he's doing such a good job infiltrating us!"
"And it's such a good undercover dolldermaid." The demon and the cat each scratch down an arm. "It'd almost be a shame to have Iron Titty back."
The undercover dolldermaid beams with pleasure! Sure, its tights are tatters, putting its gay little erection is on full display for Miss Modemoiselle and everyone to see, but that just means it's been such a good scratching post and chew toy! Every scratch and dent and lipstick print is evidence of it being the best doll it can be!
Modemoiselle apologizes to her conversation partners- this'll only take a moment. Lady Laser5 and Stabitha6 nod, understanding and already a little suggestible from Modemoiselle's mind-melting musk. A clawed paw beckons the dolldermaid closer, and it obliges until it's in grabbing range. Mod takes it by the chin, those claws tink-tink-tinking against those metal cheeks. It's staring straight into those vibrant violet eyes, just past Mod's sinfully sharp teeth. "Perhaps we should give Iron Titty a choice, then." That sinister smile only grows. "Dear, if you want to shake off the comforting tick-tick-ticking of your mainspring and cause a scene in front of your fellow murdermaids, feel free to wake up right now, take the ruby, and arrest me. I'll even go with you willingly."
The best Iron Titty can do is make its paw gloves knead a little. Not even a fist.
"Or we can let you sink into my tail and finish what my marvelous Murdermaids started." Mod lets go of its chin and lets it collapse into the waiting tail like a marionette with its strings cut.
Which, in a way, it is.
As Mod's tail coils around it, softness and spray and wonderful words encroaching from all angles, Iron Titty hears one final phrase.
"Good doll."
Well, other than The Fossing Guard, the crossing guard with the powers of free and open source software, but they're a clear outlier. ↩
"No hero ever made the Hot Stories feed on the Mercí Monitor's Broadsheet instance with the safe choice." doesn't quite hit the same. ↩
E would say that they're more like tit careers. They last much longer and they're way more fulfilling and rewarding. ↩
The new Goblin Titcareer Onslaught album is great, by the way. ↩
Stabitha the Knife Wife, for all your edged prop weapon needs! ↩
Oh, and plenty of half-finished buildings closed to the public. This place is making the actors plant trees for free on their days off; they certainly don't hire security guards. That makes it catnip for urban explorers looking to branch out from Mercí City's dead mall. Jade Scarlett, pirate queen and scourge of the Violet Sea, isn't even allowed to break character when she chases today's camera-wielding clown out of the clock tower. As Rebecca Carlos, she could at least level with them and say "Hey, please don't go in there, our insurance wouldn't cover it if you got hurt." Jade, however, has to rattle her cutlass and tell that scurvy dog to walk the plank on out of there. This is, of course, is the exact kind of content the guy with a camera on his hat wants to post online, so you know he's going to do it again and set an example for everyone else on RayTube. It's one thing if they act like someone on vacation who made an honest mistake, but this one had his channel logo on his T-shirt. At least this one had the good sense to look embarrassed about getting caught. She closes the clock tower door and stands guard until the vlogger is out of sight. It'd help if they could lock the doors, but the keys were lost well before her time and the closest thing the park has to a locksmith is the guy who hits an anvil with a hammer by the gift shop.
Whatever. It's time for her break anyways. Just enough time to get out of costume, eat somewhere other than the loud, smelly tavern, and check her phone before she has to ask for someone's help getting back into the corset. She puffs out her chest and improvises a shanty so no one tries to roleplay with her en route to the dressing room. The dressing room, of course, was supposed to be the Bard's College before they ran out of money, boarded up the windows, and had the actors move their costumes inside. At least it already had the mirrors. The song stops as soon as the door closes. She deftly maneuvers to her part of the wall and hangs her big, floppy pirate hat on its hook. She didn't even knock anything over this time! The long coat and layered skirts like to go spinny and catch unsuspecting cups and bags when you turn around. Captain Jade's scarlet curls come off Rebecca's blonde head along with the wig cap. This is right about when she notices everyone standing in the corner. They're asking hard-hitting questions like "What ARE we going to do with him?", "Aww, look at his little paws!", and "Can we get a little meow, Mr. Boots?"
Rebecca honestly thought they found a stray cat. To her credit, they kind of did. She joins the crowd and gets on her tiptoes to peek over Cyndi's exposed blue1 shoulder. The fact that she's six foot three and happy to flex her muscles makes her the closest thing the park has to security staff. The antique European armchair that usually holds everyone's coats now plays host to Becky's friend from the clock tower. The camera hat's been removed, disassembled, and replaced with a pink pair of cat ears contrasting with his short red hair. The freshly liberated camera sits on the table and gets a great shot of his bappy paws mashing against his face and completely failing to hide the glowing, tingling blush. The remains of his self-promoting shirt and denim-promoting pants are draped over the chair's arm. Rebecca barely has to ask before Ivy- better known as Merella the Invincible at her thrice-daily shows- explains that Mr. Kitty Boots here fell out of the rafters with his camera running.
"After I chased him out of the blacksmith's shop." Suzy adds.
"And the Halloween storage." Dusk says.
"And the clock tower."
"So, since he wants to be behind the scenes so much, we thought we'd give him a taste. Isn't that right, Bootsy?"
All eyes fall on him. All he can manage is a weak nod and a growing bulge.
"You know." Abby, about to get into costume as Merella's lovely assistant, shares a look with Ivy. "We ARE short-staffed. We could use an extra set of paws."
Ivy's eyes always sparkle when fae gets an idea. "What's-their-name just quit."
"I don't blame 'em. We all saw the uniform. I'd quit, too, if my titty freckles were out in front of The Six Divines and everyone."
"It's a shame. You have good freckles."
"Yeah, they're worth way more than eight bucks an hour."
"Don't forget the tips."
"Yeah, all the uncomfortable jokes and plastic gems you can fit in a corset."
Ivy clears faer throat. "And our pretty kitty here is about the right size for the role." Fae and Abby reach for his chest at the same time and turn his nipples like they're launching a nuke.
And that is what finally coaxes a noise from Mr. Kitty Boots. A sharp breath in and a surprisingly feline yowl pierce the air. Dusk makes sure to catch it on camera. Rebecca scratches him behind the fuzzy pink ears and he has to stop himself from purring and headbutting the hand. "He's so well-trained!" She scans the crowd. "What'd you do to him?"
Ivy is too busy congratulating the kitty and telling him to warm up his voice now. He'll be talking a lot today. Abby explains what's going on with the same cadence she uses for anyone who missed the first part of Merella the Invincible's Sorcery Showcase. "Well, it was a team effort. Cyndi tackled him on instinct, Ivy was playing with that dangly rock they got us instead of health insurance-"
"I think it's an opal."
"-and when he started staring at it, Dusk held his chin and teased him about how big and cute his eyes were. Staring at the shiny thing like a curious kitten."
"I tried to pick him up by his shirt collar, but it fell apart in my hands." Cyndi shakes her head. "Shoddy."
"Curious kitten~" Kitty Boots echoes in this dreamy, distant voice. Those are the only actual words he's said since Rebecca got here.
"And before we knew it, he just went totally kitty brained. He stopped complaining and trying to escape and started purring and putting his belly out for rubs and getting a cute little boner when we put the ears on him. He even wiggled out of his jeans when I told him cats don't wear pants."
"So you found the secret recipe for catboys and your master plan is to put them to work?" Rebecca looks from Mr. Boots to Abby like she's missing something.
"I was thinking of it more like a perfect storm." Abby meets her gaze. "The accidental confusion induction, the possibly-cursed opal pendant, and the fact that, on some level, Mr. Kitty Boots really wants this-" She counts each one off on her fingers. "-it's a golden opportunity for revenge. A shift where none of us have to be the slutty elf wench and smile from ear to pointy ear for tips is a bonus."
Rebecca crosses her arms. The big, flowing pirate coat makes it looks a lot more expansive and impressive than usual. "I don't know. Aren't we giving our asshole boss a free employee?"
"I thought we should keep him here under the makeup tables. Stress relief between shifts." Cyndi fidgets in her seat and readjusts the bulge in her tights. The antique stool creaks under her weight.
By this point, Ivy has Mr. Kitty Boots situated on her lap. Fae alternates between squeezing him like a teddy bear to keep him upright and seeing what kind of exciting new noises fae can extract with faer hands. "Curious kitty here does love girldick. Don't you? You love girlcock so much." Fae scratches under his chin and uses the tone of voice you'd use to get a dog excited about a walk.
"They're not mutually exclusive. There's nothing in the lore bible that says tavern wenches can't love dick. Mercí Public Health just says they can't act on it while handling food."
Dusk laughs a little. "Still grumpy about the hot dog thing?"
"Fellating a sausage is in character for Sunny Belle! It's not my fault some people don't appreciate the craft of acting." Abby huffs. "The health inspector was just mad I didn't do it for them. I even offered to wrap it in a condom. It's like they don't even care about food-safe sex."
"It'd be anachronistic anyways." Dusk offers. Abby rushes to look that up on her phone.
Mr. Kitty Boots's head flops to the side while Ivy scratches behind his ears. He purrs. "A-nya-crow-nyis-tic~"
Abby is muttering something about linen sheaths and tortoise shell when there's a knock at the door.
Noted local werewolf Markus Fowl breaks character to speak through the door. "Break time's almost over, ladies, theydies, and faedies. We could use some help at the Tournament d'Arc."
"Thank you! Be right there!" Rebecca calls back, entirely on instinct.
Ivy opens faer hand and lets the pendant dangle from faer fingers. Faer pretty kitty's eyes immediately lock on to it. His head sways back and forth to follow the swinging gem. A grin lets a custom-molded fang poke past faer lip. "What do we say?"
"I'll get the ears!" Abby hurries back to her section to get a spare set.
"Works for me." Cyndi goes for the clothing rack.
"This'll be fun." Dusk stays seated. Getting up would make it harder to scratch the kitty's chin.
Ivy focuses faer grin on Rebecca. It's the same one that always gets people on stage when they didn't, strictly speaking, volunteer. "C'mon, Becky. Tell you what. If this works, why stop here? Maybe we'll do the same thing to the boss and make this place a co-op. Or at least a cat-op."
"Fine." Rebecca sighs. "But I get to do his nails."
They descend on their canvas in unison. The longer they take, the more likely it is someone will come check on them, and there is no good explanation for why you're tying a ribbon around a hypnotized elf slut's cock on company time. "The chastity cage is too big" might be the truth, but it's rarely the right answer.
"Curious Kitty's gonna go to sleep for a bit, okay? Curious Kitty always comes when called, so it's okay if kitty takes the back seat for a little bit." The former catboy nods. The fuzzy pink headband is gone. Abby's already gluing the six-inch elf ears on and smoothing out the seam. Rebecca decides on a nice forest green for the nails.
"For the next little bit, you're gonna be a slutty elven tavern wench. You're going to love showing your body off to all those watching eyes. After all, you have such lovely, sensitive ears." Ivy runs a finger along the whole length of the right ear. Abby says it's hard to apply makeup when you make the tongue roll out like that. "And such big, bouncy breasts." Faer fingers sink into the breast forms. The elf slut's thighs clench all the same.
"I just put those panties on, Ivy. Try not to stain them."
"And such a lovely name. A name that just fills you with bliss whenever you hear it, because it is your name, and it lets you know someone needs your attention. Whenever someone calls for C'lamantha Ch'owd'er, you are there and so eager to please. Isn't that right, C'lam darling?"
C'lam needs a little help to nod her head, but she does manage a distant, happy "I'm C'lamantha~"
Ivy and Rebecca pull C'lamantha to her feet and into her new heels. A flowing evergreen wig cascades over her ears and down to her shoulders. It's not unlike watching a tree branch split a waterfall. The patter doesn't stop for a second. "You're happy to see everyone, of course. There's not enough room in your head for malice or distrust. You're much too busy being bubbly, happy, and perky. Everyone in this room right now is one of your special friends, and you trust your special friends more than anything, right?"
"Of course I trust my special friends!" She twirls a lock of hair around her finger. Abby has to snatch it back to finish adding the top coat. "Like, who else would I trust?"
"Good girl." Ivy snaps her fingers. C'lam's thighs clench and a shiver runs down her spine. "What do we think, folks? Is she ready?"
C'lam idly hums to herself and stares into the distance. It's so hard to pay attention when people aren't talking to you. Curious kitties, no matter how curious, don't listen when they're not being spoken to. Slutty elf tavern wenches must work the same way.
Cyndi takes C'lamantha's entire head in one hand, tilts it back, and makes sure the wench's lipstick is the proper shade of elderberry. Anything else would ruin the immersion. Abby makes sure the blouse is nice and tight in the right areas without obscuring the hand-painted titty freckles. Dusk, still sitting, points the camera under the skirt and tugs it down to just above the knee. "Thumbs up."
Everyone else has to hurry into costume. Makeup goes un-refreshed, wigs are worn in ways that are going to get itchy in about an hour, and corsets stay untightened. Ivy and Abby (Well, Merella and lovely assistant. You can tell by the sequins and long white gloves.) walk their freshly minted maiden to the tavern. C'lam walks with one on each arm because it's the only way she's staying upright on her first day in heels.
"Remember, you were born in the Forest of Scrrontahar in the Age of the Third Catastrophic Problem." Abby is putting her backstory skills to the test. Ivy is busy making sure C'lam remembers to wash her hands before touching food.
"I was there, wasn't I~?"
Soon, they turn the final corner to the tavern. "And, of course." Abby says, putting the finishing touches on the circumstances that caused C'lamantha to lose her scholarship at Scrrontahar Haberdashery College. "Now you work at the Orb & Crop. Don't wanna be late for your shift! You know how Mx. Thornwhether gets when you're late."
C'lamantha blinks a few times and comes to a comfortable level of reality. "Oh gosh, you're totally right!" She takes a few stumbling steps through the tavern door. "Thanks, guys! Byeee!"
The last thing Ivy and Abby hear en route to the tournament is Mx. Thornwhether's riding crop leaving a mark on elf ass.
There's not enough time to wash the body paint off between shifts as Klondyke, Stellar Fortune-Teller, you see. ↩
"I'm Princess's pretty dolly. I'm Princess's hypnotized cosplay slut."
Soon, I don't even have to snap. They repeat it all by themself. Like a good little hypnotized cosplay slut. I let them repeat themself deeper and deeper under my spell while they help me get changed. I let them remove my jacket and unzip my pants. I step out of my underwear and let them stare, transfixed, at my cock. Their mouth hangs open. It gets harder and harder for them to repeat the mantra.
"I know, dear." I give that cute, empty head a pet. "You love my cock so much. I know it dominates your thoughts and drives out any other ideas. I know even a whiff of my balls reminds you that you're my hypnotized cosplay slut. I know it penetrates down to the primordial lizard part of your brain and reminds it that you crave my dick more than anything. And that is why, if you're a good little hypnotized cosplay slut-"
"I'm Princess's hypnuhtizzd cosplay sluhh."
"-you'll get to suck Princess's perfect cock. You'll get to rub it all over your face and lick it and suck it and swallow whatever comes out. Nod when you understand." I have to help my doll nod. "And what are the rules of a good little hypnotized cosplay slut?" I snap. It sits up straight. The rules come out clear and crisp.
"One. A hypnotized cosplay slut is always deeply hypnotized. Two. A hypnotized cosplay slut is always deeply in character. Three. A hypnotized cosplay slut is always deeply Princess's perfect plaything." They immediately flop back into the couch.
"Perfect, dear." I reward my hypnotized cosplay slut by guiding its lips to my cock. Just a kiss. It's going for a lick when I put the maid cap on its head. Another snap makes it sit up straight. "Princess wants faer happy little maid."
She giggles and bounces to her feet. "Dress-up time again, Miss Princess?" I nod and name the characters we're doing today. She bounces off to the closet. "Oh, I'm going to love this one, Miss Princess! I hope I get to remember it."
My maid does all the hard work, of course. Tucking my hair under the wig cap and fixing it in place with bobby pins. Stealing kisses when she thinks I'm not looking. Picking out cute underwear and trying not to let my cock turn her brain to mush. Helping me step into the dress and zipping it up in the back. Doing my makeup just so. She's in the middle of appreciating her handiwork and gushing over how pretty Miss Princess is when I pluck the cap off and help my maid drift back to sleep. I hold her chin and help remind her of the mantra.
"I'm Princess's pretty dolly. I'm Princess's hypnotized cosplay slut. I'm Princess's pretty dolly. I'm-"
Princess's hypnotized cosplay slut repeats while I work. I move its limbs and freeze it in place when needed to help it into the clothes. I call it by the character's name and remind it of her personality. Today, it is the awkward, bookish nerd dating the ravishing Princess with the flaming hair beyond compare. A nerd who's far too smart to be hypnotized, and thinks the whole idea is, frankly, a little silly to begin with. Just because she lifts her skirt whenever Princess snaps her fingers doesn't mean anything! She'd do anything for Princess anyways, after all, so the idea of having her mind messed with is… as completely unnecessary as it is undeniably erotic! Oh, if only she could work up the courage to ask- no, beg!- Princess to brainwash her!
The last of the makeup goes on, the wig is affixed, and the glasses slide on. Any delusions of a silly old life are dismissed and put away for later. The new name is asked for and quickly given. A kiss on the nose seals any remaining doubts and a snap of my fingers wakes her up. The first thing she sees is her Princess's smiling face, the first thing she thinks is extremely gay, and the first expression she makes completely fails to hide that fact.
]]>The "On Air" sign lights up. Sunny rises to her feet. Her busty, brainwashed bunnies help her into her jacket and settle her top hat on her head. She rewards each bunny with a kiss on the nose, yanks them out of their smooch-induced horny haze with a Snap!, and leads her entourage onto the stage.
A drum roll fills the packed auditorium and pours out of televisions, computers, and phones all over the world. The curtains rise while Sunset strolls on stage, projecting her voice far and wide with a simple wave of her arm. "Live!" She calls. "From historic Wolfe Salazar Memorial Auditorium, the scintillating sorceress, the mesmerizing magician, your hypnotic hostess for the evening, Sunny the Spectacular!" The applause light comes on, and she bows. She doffs her hat so her blazing locks can properly bounce before she rights herself. Her bunnies do the same and let their fiery braids flop in unison.
"It's lovely to see you all here for my television debut. I hope some of you are ready to be wrapped around my finger." Her hand shoots above her head and unleashes a single, powerful Snap! across the audience. A few shoulders slip and plenty of eyes flutter for a moment. "Of course, the beautiful part of this is that you get to be the stars of the show. Whoever's lucky enough to catch my attention and fall under my spell will have such a lovely time in front of so many people. They might even remember it." She chuckles. "They might even remember how good it feels to let my voice wash over their mind. They might remember the pleasure flowing from their ears, filling their head to the brim, and trickling down into their body. They might remember how they, as they lose their grip on reality and completely submit to my will, felt a moment of radiant, all-consuming bliss."
Snap!
"And sleep."
The room goes silent. A few people drop their drinks when they go limp mid-sip. A few more wave a hand in front of their neighbor's face and laugh. More still teeter on the edge of consciousness. Ten percent of the home audience just lost a few seconds. The handful of people and brainwashed Sunny bunnies who still know what's going on begin to clap. Sunny wiggles a finger, gives the audience that little "ah ah ah, not so fast" look, and starts pacing back and forth on the stage. The sound of clapping quickly gives way to the sound of footsteps. Rhythmic, evenly measured footsteps against the stage. Footsteps consistently tap-tap-tapping away. So easy to listen to, so easy to predict, and yet so difficult to think over. "Very good. Now, do we have any volunteers in the audience? Anyone who can feel me tying a helium balloon around their left wrist right now?" Snap! "Anyone who can feel it tugging their wrist upward?" Snap! "Raising their hand higher-" Snap! "-and higher-" Snap! "-above their head?"
Half a dozen hands slowly lift into the air and bob in place.
"Very good! I'd say you should give yourselves a hand, but, well." She laughs. Her bunnies join in. The less-hypnotized members of her audience get the joke and laugh along. The more-hypnotized folks laugh because Sunny is laughing, and she has such a pretty laugh, and wouldn't it feel good to laugh along with her? It feels so nice to listen to her voice, after all. To let your thoughts slip away. To let the world around you fade. You're so comfortable here in your seat.
One lucky member of the audience feels a Sunny bunny's hand rest on hers. A gentle "Good girl. Right this way." drifts in one ear and out the other while she's led on stage.
"Well, well, well. Looks like we have our first volunteer. You can Snap! put your hand down, dear." Sunny chuckles. Her volunteer's raised hand drops down to her side.
Sunny asks her her name. She responds. Sunny says it's a nice name. She'll borrow it for a while. It's one more thing she can empty from her mind. One more thing to let go of while she listens to Sunny's wonderful voice. A wonderful voice that gives her just one thing to focus on. It's so much easier to let Sunny's warm words trickle into her head and replace her thoughts.
"Cheeri. That's a nice name, isn't it? It's got a nice ring to it. Especially since it's-" Snap! "-your name. Go ahead, Cheeri dear. Introduce yourself to everyone. It's such a pretty name. Just saying it is enough to bring a smile to your face. Make sure you say it loud and proud so everyone can hear!"
A bunny holds a microphone up for Cheeri. The audience gets to watch the show's newest star blink her eyes a few times before her voice washes over the crowd. "I-I'm Cheeri?" She looks at Sunny. Sunny nods encouragingly. "Hi, everyone! I'm Cheeri! It's an honor to be here tonight on stage! I can't wait to, uh, do whatever it is I'm doing up here!"
The audience chuckles. They can see the Sunny bunny approaching from behind with a pleated skirt, a pair of pom-poms, and a midriff-bearing top perfect for cheering on whatever sports team, concept, or hypnotist you come across. And, wouldn't you know it, Cheeri's on stage with at least one of those! What a coincidence! Just like the coincidental hand on her shoulder. Or the wonderfully warm words slipping in her ear that just so happen to be identical to her thoughts. She has such nice thoughts. Thoughts like "Gosh, I'm gay for stage magicians with fiery hair.", "It'd be so fun to do a cheer for her!", and "Gosh, where are my pom-poms? How am I supposed to cheer without those?" rolled out of Sunny's mouth, through Cheeri's head, out her mouth, and into the microphone. Part of being a cheerleader is making your thoughts heard to everyone, as loud and clear as you can! That way, as many people as possible can catch the cheering spirit! There's even a few folks in the audience looking for their pom-poms, too.
Cheeri finds her uniform pressed against her chest. She takes it, of course, and looks around for somewhere to change.
"Cheeri has a wonderful body." She repeats whatever wonderfully warm words wash over her mind. "Cheeri exists to cheer up the crowd. Cheeri's body will cheer up the crowd."
Snap! "Repeat." Sunny says.
"Cheeri exists to cheer up the crowd. Cheeri's body will cheer up the crowd." Her eyes glaze over. Her mouth works on a loop. A pair of Sunny bunnies help her out of her clothes. Her shirt vanishes over her head. Her skirt drops to the ground. Even her bra and panties come off. What better way to mark who's in control than with Sunny-branded underwear, available at the merchandise stand after the show?
"Cheeri exists to cheer up the crowd. Cheeri's body will cheer up the crowd." She repeats. She's so good at repeating.
The Sunny bunny with the shirt says "Give me a Y!" Cheeri's arms shoot above her head to make her body the right shape. She broadcasts it loud and clear to the audience, and she gets a pretty good response. All while providing an good opening for a Sunny bunny to slip the shirt on over her head and steal a kiss on her cheek. A few of the other bunnies catch on and start shouting letters while Cheeri steps into her skirt. By the time Cheeri proudly calls "What's that spell? Yrfltlqb!" to roaring applause and cheers, she's dressed from head to toe as Sunny the Spectacular's perfect little cheerleader. From her bouncy ponytail, tied off with a big red ribbon, to the little puffballs on her socks, she's ready to shake her pom-poms and strut her stuff!
"Isn't she great, folks?" Sunny calls to the crowd. "Let's hear it for Cheeri!"
The crowd applauds, of course. They applaud for long enough for Sunny to slide up beside her cheerleader and start whispering in her ear. Whispering about how she loves the applause. Loves the attention. How every morsel of attention from a crowd feels so good. So wonderfully warm. How every clap brings her deeper and deeper under Sunny's spell. How it feels so good to submit, to fall deeper, to let your mind vanish under that lovely sound. Good cheerleaders don't need to think, after all. They just have to let the cheer spirit take them!
The applause dies down. Cheeri leans against Sunny for support while she's out of her gourd on hypnotic bliss. "Thank you, thank you. Now, doesn't Cheeri look lonely up on this big stage? I think she could use a friend, don't you?" She says to nobody in particular. Cheeri tries to nod and winds up flopping her head onto Sunny's shoulder. "Do I have any volunteers to be the next star of Sunny the Spectacular's Super Showcase?"
A different set of hands go up. A few are more awake. A few are far, far deeper in trance. A few have just seen what happened on stage and are wishing so dearly that it'd happen to them. And one cocky blonde making an awful lot of eye contact with the hypnotist. One whose vibrant violet eyes demanded attention. One who stood up and walked towards the stage without even being called up.
"You, with the pink streak and the pretty pendant. You'll do." Sunny motioned her up, and a bunny barnacled herself onto her arm. Ever the entertainer and skilled in the art of horny improv, it took more than a confident volunteer to break her stride. The headstrong ones are much more fun to twist. Sunny whispers a few conspiratorial words in a Sunny bunny's ear- a real one, not the big, floppy cloth ones poking up through her blazing hair- and turns her attention to the oh-so-eager prey climbing onto the stage. She produces the microphone once more and asks "So, dear, would you like to tell us your name? You might need help remembering it afterwards." She chuckles.
"What's up, I'm Grace, I'm a self-replicating tangle of information that's existed in one form or another since time immemorial, and I never fucking learned how to read."
A Sunny bunny returns from backstage, pushing a chair adorned with a pair of big, plush paws, a round silver bell hanging from a collar, and a blonde cat ear headband. Sunny scoops them up with one hand and gestures to the seat with other. "Have a seat, dear. This'll be fun, we don't get many comedians on stage. You're not allergic to cats, are you?"
"I don't have the biological machinery that would cause me to be allergic to things." Grace sits and crosses one leg over the other. "But I'm sure a talented hypnotist could change that. It would be pretty funny to get me walking around the stage, sneezing every time I got close to you."
Sunny laughs, which means her bunnies and audience laugh along with her. "Ooh, so close, but so far." Sunny flicks her wrist and produces a gold coin on a chain. She sets it dangling in the light so her prey can see the shimmering sun sign expertly engraved into both sides. "Don't worry, dear. Nobody's right all the time. Why don't you take a little break from thinking up snappy comebacks for a while?" She sets the coin swinging and shimmering in the stage lights. Its golden glint shines with Sunny's seductive flame. It demands Grace's attention the way a firework does. Swooping across the sky, then dazzling its audience with a brilliant array of colors.
"That's a good, pretty kitty." Sunny coos into Grace's ear. "Pretty kitties don't have to think. Pretty kitties don't have to worry. Pretty kitties just have to listen to Sunny for a little bit. How does that sound, pretty kitty?" She's laying it on so thick. Her words drip with every ounce of hypnotic honey she can muster. Nobody upstages Sunny the Spectacular.
"If I'm the pretty kitty, why do you have the collar?"
Sunny blinked a few times. She's used to cute, mushy, halfhearted "noooooos" while they melt into a puddle in her hands. A pointed question in riposte is enough to give her paws. Grace is on her feet and massaging the hypnotist's soft new beans. "You've got the collar and the big, bappy paws. What else does a soft, sunny kitty need?" She paces back and forth in front of Sunny and the audience, drumming her fingers against her chin while the cat ear headband dangles from her other hand.
Sunny stared at her while she paced back and forth. Her eyes locked on the headband. She pawed at the top of her own head experimentally. "Meow."
"What's that, pretty kitty? See something you like?" Grace turns on her heel. She dangles the headband from her finger. The fake triangular ears practically glow under the stage lights. "Go ahead, dear. Use your words."
"Meow. Nya nya nya nya. Meeeeeeow." Sunny baps at the headband, then the top of her head.
Grace looks at the pair of cat ears dangling from her finger. "Oh, is this what you want?" She coos. "These cute little kitty ears for the prettiest kitty I know?"
Sunny turns her nose up and paws at the chair a little. She stares at the headband out of the corner of her eye. Her butt shakes to get that good, haughty invisible tail swish going.
"Well, she'd hardly be a catgirl without the attitude." Grace laughs, and the audience laughs with her. A single finger scratches under Sunny's chin. The flaming catgirl cranes her neck, slowly closes her eyes, and begins to purr.
"Isn't she a dear? I think she's earned the ears, don't you?" She turns to the crowd. They cheer and applaud for the pretty kitty. Sunny purrs even more now. It feels good to be the center of attention. She's so pretty and shiny and she's doing such a good job, after all. She's looking so good on stage, she's so good at listening to Grace, and it's only gonna get easier with her brand new ears!
The ears go on, and, sure enough, it's much, much easier to hear Grace Snap! her fingers and tell her to sleep.
She falls limp instantly.
The crowd is silent, aroused, and starting to realize what's going on here. Most stage hypnosis shows don't include a coup, and yet, here we are. There's some scattered applause because, well, she's bowing and that was pretty impressive.
"Thank you, thank you." Grace stands up from her big, exaggerated bow. "For my next trick, I'm going to make my assistant disappear!" The Sunny bunnies exchange glances and wonder if one of them should stand up. Grace answers the question by taking Sunny's chin and cooing to her. "How does that sound, dear? A trick with Princess's pretty kitty?"
Sunny's silly smile stretches ever wider. "Nya." She nods.
"This isn't any old disappearing act, though." Grace stands up straight, addressing the audience with practiced patter. "The cat formerly known as Sunny the Spectacular will vanish before your very eyes, but she will be replaced with yours truly."
A Sunny bunny wonders out loud if it's really a disappearing act if nothing actually disappears. A moment of eye contact and a snap of Grace's fingers makes sure she won't wonder about anything for a few hours.
Grace stands behind Sunny's seat. A flourishing flick of the wrist shakes a clutch of cables into existence. "Nothing up my sleeve." She jokes. A few laughs bubble up from the audience. She leans in nice and close. Her lips are mere inches from Sunny's ear, One of her human ears, even. "You're going to feel a slight pinch, then a sensation not unlike having a living computer virus downloaded into your brain and genes. From what I hear from me, it feels wonderful."
The cables jack in to the back of her neck. Sunny's breath catches in her throat. A little yelp, then a big, deep moan. Grace, satisfied with her work, stands up straight and helps herself to Sunny's hat. It looks better on her anyways. "Now, ladies, gentlemen, and those of us who know better, watch closely. Before your very eyes, Sunny the Spectacular will be replaced! Transformed! Twinned!"
A brilliant pink bolt of bliss shoots down the cable and into Sunny's spine. Her back arches. Her eyes roll backwards into her head. The crowd stares transfixed at the pink lighting arcing all over Sunny's body. It bleaches the red from her hair and leaves a shock of pink over her left eye. An eye that swirled and shifted from Sunny cyan to Graceful green. Even the cat ears blend in beautifully with her new blonde locks.
Her suit stays the same, even after the rest of the transformation sweeps over her body. The audience stares. Transfixed, aroused, and hanging on Grace's every word. The Grace with the hat, that is. The freshly minted Grace is still slumped over in her seat, trying to make sense of the all the new gay thoughts tumbling through her head. Grace Prime steps forward, takes her cute little copy's hand, and tugs her to her feet. Momentum swings the newest Grace around and lands her firmly in Prime's clutches.
"I do hate to toot my own horn. It's why I'm a hypnotist- I can make other people do it for me." She lifts her hand up high and snaps her fingers over her head. Every head in the audience jerks up in unison. She cups the brand new Grace's chin and angles her neck up just enough to make eye contact. "So, dear, what do you think?"
"I look and feel amazing, Princess!" She tells the crowd. "I think everyone should get to experience the unfettered bliss that is being under your spell!"
"Is that so, dear? Think you still have enough magic to make that happen?"
"Anything for you, Princess!" She waves her hands over her head. Trails of pink, glittering circuitry trace a path that would once have been filled by flame. "Ladies and ladies-to-be! For the first time on television or anywhere, may I present Princess Grace's Cascading Copy Creation Charm!" The corrupted, calculating magical power stirs, grows, and glows until a brilliant wave of cognitohazardous energy sweeps over the audience, though the cameras, and into countless homes across the world. The two Graces on stage fill the air with their very best villainous cackle. They're soon joined by the Graceful bunnies on stage, the studio audience, and so many eager new faces across the world. Hair turns a brilliant blonde, stabbed through with streaks of pink. Breasts sprout, butts grow, and one particularly villainous virus propagates.
Grace Prime retires backstage with half a dozen of her favorite new Graces, including the one she's pretty sure used to be Sunny. The name on the dressing room door has already been changed. She helps herself to the remaining reserves of magical power and rewards the ex-magician with a kiss. "Good girl. If you hadn't played your part so perfectly, I wouldn't have anywhere near this much reach. Huge swaths of the world are now safely in my clutches, and it's all thanks to you."
"Only because I'm a copy of you, my perfect princess!"
Arousing Sunny's Mesmerizing Recitations ↩
Grace was dressed up for the occasion, of course. Swirling heart hair decorations above her eye. A big, cute hat. A Poké ball pendant hangs from her neck and dances between the fingers on her free hand. "If I recall, a certain dragon type gym is up ahead."
Donations trickled in at their usual pace. Anyone who gave more than $15 got their shout-out read. She’d add a wink or a kiss if you were particularly generous.
Until someone had to ruin it for everyone. Filling the chat with nasty messages for all to see. Donating just to hear Grace say "And here’s one from our friend-" and refuse to read the rest.
After the third evaded ban, Grace is out of playful banter. She cracks her knuckles pressing the tiny glass Poké ball against the palms of her fingerless gloves. "Just a second, dears." She winks to the stream. A spark jumps from her eye. She gives her computer screen three measured taps, a few choice strokes, and slooowly reaches inside.
Ever been grabbed by the scruff of your neck and dragged through the Internet, dear? It’s not pleasant when the person doing the dragging is mad at you. It’s like having millions of computers screaming nonsense at you from every direction on a good day. She’ll bounce you off malware and almost drop you somewhere nasty on the way, only to grab you at the last second and toss you onto the floor in her room. Hard. "Well, dear?" She grabs her guest by the chin and lifts them onto their feet, facing the camera. "Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?"
They try to stammer out a response. She winks at the camera and presses a finger to their lips. "Ssssh~" Her breath blows out their brain like a candle. "They’re kinda cute when their eyelids get all heavy like that, huh?" She leans them in nice and close to the camera so everyone can see. "And then when the cable goes in~" A gold-plated cable snakes up her hand and plunges into the back of their neck. Everyone on the stream hears a satisfying click. They all see Princess Grace’s newest plaything go limp for a split second before their eyes glow a brand new shade of green. Green circuit traces grow out from their irises.
Ever had a virus girl download part of herself into your head, dear? In case you haven’t, it’s like if someone walked into your brain, kissed whoever’s in charge until they turned into a moaning, brainwashed Grace twin, and promptly started changing whatever Princess wished. Or, if you prefer, circuitry weaving through the creases and wrinkles in your brain, illuminating every crevice with the breath of living information and twisting it to fit her needs. Or having a web cast over your mind, ensnaring every spare thought in her spell. I’d say it’s up to you, but you don’t really get to make decisions any more.
For example, Princess is squeezing her newest project’s chin and making sure everyone on stream gets a good look. "What’s your name, dear~?" She coos. Energy surges down Grace’s cables and into that cute little brain, and every record of their name is promptly blacked out. A few seconds of stammering later, the name revealed itself again.
"C-Clair."
"You can do better than that, dear." Grace snaps! her fingers. Green energy surges into the back of Clair’s neck. They shoot up straight, eyes wide and pulsing with a Gracetastic glow.
"Clair, Princess~! Mmmph!"
"Was that a moan I heard? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying this~" She reaches around and grabs Clair’s developing chest. Her fingers trace her good girl’s curves and sink into her budding breasts. "Looks like someone’s on hormones. If you’re a good girl, I just might help you along. It’s a shame the old you won’t be able to enjoy it, since you’ll be my brainwashed cosplay pet, but the new you- and everyone else- is going to love it."
Brilliant green circuitry pulses down the cables and into Clair’s neck. It surges down her clothes, splitting them into shreds, reducing them to pixels and leaving a certain slut naked on stream. "Oh, dear. What are we going to do about this~?"
Clair furiously covers her nipples and cock with her arms. "Dress me up, Princess! Please!" She begs. A brilliant blush burns across her face.
"And why is that?" Grace reaches around from behind. She cups Clair’s breasts from the bottom so everyone gets a view. They plump in her hands. Every squeeze bumps them up a cup size. They’re already getting bigger than Princess’s hands, and she’s not gonna stop any time soon. "Why should your perfect Princess Grace dress you up?"
Green circuitry glitters across Clair’s skin. She squirms and moans while Grace ruthlessly downloads more and more pleasure into her overloaded brain.
"Because I’m your cosplay slut, Princess! I exist to be dressed up and shown off! Without Princess to tell me what to do, I’m useless!" She moans between deep breaths. Poor, lucky thing has less of a brain in her head and more of a shrine to Grace drowning in liquid bliss.
"Good girl!" Mmmph, you are a good girl, aren’t you, Clair?
Grace takes her hands off, leaving Clair to moan and touch herself on camera. She comes back from behind, wrapping a thick black choker around her slut’s neck. The round gem in front pulses with Grace’s green circuit heart. A trickle of personality drips into Clair’s head. One of her hands still tries to protect her modesty, while the other feels around for Poké balls that don’t exist. A worried "Wh-where are my dragons?" slips out of her mouth.
"What do you mean, dear?" Grace stands to one side so everyone on stream can see.
"I’m the world’s greatest dragon master! I should have, uh." Her eyes flutter. She probes her mind for memories that don't exist. "Those flappy boys. Drumbles."
"Looking for these?" Grace sits on her desk, dangling a chain with a cluster of Poké balls and a single opal crystal. Big, scheming smile, winking to her stream viewers before turning her attention back to Clair. "You'd think the dragon queen of Johto would keep a better eye on her Pokémon and her clothes."
"Hey! You give those back!" Clair exposes her freshly grown titties reaching for her Pokémon, only for Grace to yank them away at the last minute.
"Are you sure these are yours, dear~?" She teases. "Maybe you should look a little closer." She sends the chain swaying back and forth. The balls and the crystal shine and shimmer in the light. "Take your time. Settle down, take a few deep breaths, and then we can talk. Being so uptight and argumentative isn’t like you, Clair."
Clair was transfixed. Her arms droop to her sides. The shimmering light of the crystal reflects in her eager eyes. Drool collects on her lip.
"Isn't she a cutie, folks?" Grace winks to the camera. She takes Clair's soft, sculpted chin and tilts her head back a touch. Can't have her going so droopy she stops looking at the crystal.
"So, Clair, you want your clothes back, right?"
"Mmmhmmph."
"And your Pokémon."
"I'm dragon… girl."
"How about you and Princess make a little trade. Every time I give you one of those, you give me a little more of your inhibitions and your free will. You weren't using those anyways, right? What's getting a little subbier and sluttier compared to having your mighty dragons at your beck and call? You're getting a great deal."
"I'm getting a great deal." Clair echos, because she is a good girl.
"Good girl. Rise and shine, dragon queen~" Snap!
Clair blinks herself awake. Grace is already holding a pair of tight blue gloves with big ol' cuffs. Clair takes them, chuckling to herself about the amazing deal she's getting. She slips her hands inside, and another pulse of green circuitry rolls over her body. Her thighs clench and a brief moan escapes her lips. One freshly gloved hand curls around her cock. Mmmmph, even if she still had all her old memories, or even quite grasped that there was a person before Cosplay Slut Clair, she’d never remember a time when she felt this good. Green circuitry trickles from the gloves, down her dick, and into her body. Poor thing is going to stroke herself into a drooling pile if nobody stops her.
Her tongue was already rolling out of her mouth when Princess presented her boots. "This lovely number features two big, black rings, two-inch heels, and come in your choice of- well, you don’t really get to choose when you come. Yours for only a few boring old memories!"
Clair, unfortunately, needs both hands to grab her boots and pull them on. She uses the opportunity to take a few deep breaths and gather her thoughts. Thoughts like "Where are my dragons?", "This is the horniest I’ve ever been.", and "I sure wish Princess would just let me suck her fat cock until I never have another thought in my empty little head again!" Only the important ones. With the boots on, wouldn’t you know it, it’s back to sinking into that lovely blissful haze you can only get from touching yourself for Princess while her adoring audience watches.
"Dear, you’ll never get your outfit back if you masturbate yourself into a useless, drooling puddle on the floor this early. I know those gloves feel incredible on your cock, but you’re not much of a cosplay slut if you don’t at least wear the…" Grace drapes the garment over her hand. It’s a sleeveless dress that transitions to a cape flowing black cape at the shoulders. It’s darker blue along the edges and lighter in the middle to suggest dragon scales with a soft underbelly. "It’s kinda shaped like a dress, but it has little individual legs, like some tight, extremely short shorts? What do you call this, dear? It’s your outfit. Tell you what, if you can tell me what this thing is called, or at least give me a convincing lie, I won’t even snatch away your memories."
Clair pants and moans. The only thing that could draw her from her reverie is the most important thing in her world: Princess. And wouldn’t you know it, Princess was talking! "I- I don’t know, Princess. Clair’s just your dumb cosplay slut dressup dolly." She pants. "Dragons? I’m supposed to know about those."
"I’d say ‘nice try’, but it’s mean to lie." Grace tosses the dress over her good girl’s face. A few memories drip out of her ears and absorb into the carpet. "Remind me to make you a maid later so I can have you clean those years of school out of the carpet."
"Of course, Princess! My brain’s really only good for storing whatever you put in there. Personalities, memos, cum. Just a big ol’ empty space!" Clair takes a few tries to figure out how to actually put the thing on. She tries to put her head up through the bottom, but there’s two leg holes down there. She does figure out she’s supposed to step into it, but she puts the cape in front. Third time’s the charm for Clair, who lets Princess zip up the back while the entire world can see the extremely visible outline of her cock bulging through her extraordinarily tight dress. Some of the folks in chat make a game out of trying to count the veins. They can all see Clair’s eyes roll back into her head at the constant pressure on her cock. They can all see her trying to masturbate through the dress while Grace sneaks up behind her with a wig.
Clair obliviously tries to stroke through her dress while Princess carefully rolls up her straight brown hair and tucks it under an elastic wig cap. Can’t have any of that boring normal hair ruining the illusion, after all. Grace hangs a dragon fang from each of her cosplay slut’s ears. Were her ears always pierced? Of course they were. She’s always been Princess’s cosplay doll, after all.
The wig is a big, cyan, extraordinarily anime affair. Big, angular tufts framing her face and jutting out to the sides. One big aerodynamic tuft in the front. A giant ponytail sticking out the top. And as soon as it slips onto Clair’s head, everything just clicks into place. Of course she’s Princess’s cosplay slut, of course she’s Clair the dragon queen, and of course she’s hypnotized and masturbating on Princess’s stream! What more could a girl want?
Well, other than to let Princess fuck her brains out on stream to celebrate after she beats the Elite Four. A girl can dream.
]]>Well, hm. Our protagonist drags the last of her suitcases into her bare apartment. The previous tenant left a bed, a weird smell, and not much else. She collapses against the dozen or so boxes that held her worldly possessions, sweat staining her last clean set of clothes. Mercí City has not been kind to her so far.
Her phone rings, and she puts it on speaker so she doesn't get the screen all gross and sweaty. "So, ready to hit the town?" The voice chimes from the other end. "I don't know if I'm up for it. I just had to carry everything I own up seven flights of stairs because the elevator doesn't work."
"Come on, it's ladies' night* down at Mary Menace's!"
"Does that mean we drink free?"
"No, it means they play that Kool & The Gang song you like."
"All my clothes are dirty, I won't be able to do laundry until tomorrow at the earliest-"
"I'll bring a change over! Take a shower, I'll be there in half an hour!"
The phone beeped quiet and she sighed. "New city, new me." She silently resolved to stand up for herself more. After this shower and going to the bar she didn't want to go to and buying drinks she didn't want.
She came out of the bathroom wearing a towel. It was a smart choice, considering that her friend was impatiently sitting on the bed with clothes already laid out.
"Jeez, I thought you fell in." She stands up. It's easy to forget how tall she is- and how big her bust is until it's right at eye level and covered in spandex.
"That's what you're wearing? You look ridiculous, Su-" A gloved finger presses against her lips.
"Ah ah ah! Tonight, I'm Starburst!" Starburst stands up straight, free hand on her hip. A brilliant red and orange wig bounces against her lower back when she moves her head. A pair of orange-tinted sunglasses sits on her forehead. Her gloves are big, bulky, and ringed with long, flickering shafts of bottled volcano. She steps aside to present our protagonist with her options, and the floor creaks under her big, heavy combat boots.
"Well, I definitely don't think I can pull that off." She looked at the heavy leather jacket with flame decals stenciled around the bottom, back and wrists. And she definitely wasn't wearing leggings after dark, even if they did have a cool solar flare pattern.
There were two outfits laid out on the bed, like your mom might do in the morning before school. If you went to a school for gay supervillains.
One looked like it was a package deal with Starburst's. T-shirt with, uh, the Firefox logo, some orange dishwashing gloves, and some jeans that, at one point, someone tried to dye orange. She shot one look to the side and moved on.
"Hey, some people would kill to be my number two."
She moves on to the other choice. A denim jacket with a rainbow of lightning bolts spray paint stenciled onto the back, a blue T-shirt with a white heart split with a similar bolt, and some jean-colored sweat pants. She drapes the towel over her shoulder and starts to get dressed as best she can without her friend seeing.
Starburst politely turns her back and crosses her arms. Looking at the ceiling in that "I'm pointedly not looking at you" stance. "I went by Blue Bomber when I wore that number, but feel free to pick your own thing."
"Why do we have to have code names? Can't I just be St-"
"Ah ah ah! You'll have to do better than that! It'll all make sense when we get to Mary's."
She sighed and got dressed. The sweatpants could be rolled up and the jacket kept falling off her shoulders, but she couldn't help but smile at the girl in the bathroom mirror.
"Oh, you have a prop? A ring or a necklace or something you can wear?"
"I have… a camera they don't make batteries for any more and a single driving glove from when I owned a car."
"Perfect. Put your hair in a ponytail, too."
"It's not ponytail night, is it?"
"Nah, that's Wednesday. I'd stay away unless you know what you want. I know what you want, though, and it's the outdoorsy look."
Mary Menace's was only a few blocks away, and the cool air feels good when you're wearing too many layers.
Starburst walks half a step ahead to lead the way. It's easy when your legs are longer. "Shutterbug."
"Nah."
"Maybe I could come up with a name if I knew what I was naming."
"Your persona! Nobody at Mary Menace's goes by their government name. Think about the image you want to project."
"I look like an embedded reporter in the war against roller derby."
"The M*A*S*Her."
"How old are you?"
"Just trying to help. Don't wanna come up blank when someone asks. Flashbulb."
"Light Touch."
They bounced names off each other the whole walk there.
The pair turns a corner. "We're here." Starburst smiles. She takes big strides towards the black flag, split down the middle with four colorful bolts. An old-fashioned wooden sign hangs out over the sidewalk. "Mary Menace's Tavern" is engraved and lined with worn gold leaf.
Mary Menace's isn't the kind of place that has a bouncer. Starburst walks in and her friend rushes to keep up. The bartender, an older fellow with four arms, uses one of them to wave and two to wipe down the bar. "Evening, Star! Who's your friend?"
"Be nice to her. She's still figuring that out."
"You and me both." The bartender winks and shoots a fingergun at… Press Pass? Nah.
The bar was busy enough for a Thursday night. Starburst introduced her friend to The Titanium Twink, who offered to let her break a chair over his back. He even knocked on his silvery bicep so all could hear how hollow it was. He got a smile and a "maybe later". They sat at the bar, making small talk and comparing drink orders. Star had to get something on brand, like a tequila sunrise.
"Surprise me." She said, and then immediately regretted it as the bartender went off to grab four different-colored bottles and expertly pour them together into something glowing and fizzing. "This isn't a regular bar, is it?"
"I was wondering when you'd ask. Mary Menace's is a cape kink bar. Everyone here has a secret identity they leave at the door. Heroes, villains, epic battles, romance, anything you can think of."
"And you're a?"
Starburst sinks against the bar and laughs. "I've been matching wits with this mathemagician girl, Lady Mersenne, so I guess that either makes me a hero or a rival. I think I'm gonna do some math crimes to show her where I stand."
"What does a math crime look like?"
"I still gotta plot that out. I'm thinking I force some nerd to name a theorem after me."
"I'd go for a Kepler angle. Meshes with your space theme."
Starburst gave her a squeeze with her right fission gauntlet. "You're a natural. See why I brought you here?"
She got her drink. It tasted like a carbonated orgasm, felt like getting kicked in the shin, and the bartender would only call it "something for the lady". She was going to finish it. Eventually.
"So how'd you decide on Starburst?"
"Well, it wasn't my first look. Nobody's still on their first look. Titanium Twink was Tin Man for six months."
"Seven, and then I was the Mercury Menace while I fought Copperhead!" He calls from across the bar. She makes eye contact with him, and he pantomimes the chair thing in case she changed her mind.
"I was Miss Fire for a while until the quick draw act got old and felt weird bringing guns in a bar. Then I henched for Galaxy Gal for a year. Didn't really get a name beyond Vega-6. I left on good terms and liked the space theme well enough, and I still had some of the fire gear, so here we are."
"And you thought I'd look good as your henchgirl?"
"Some people like having a boss to report to. Keeps the attention off if you don't want it." Starburst pointed past Malefactor and Mercí Sound Machine to a corner booth, filled with one supervillain dressed to the nines in her ball gown and parasol and flanked on either side by as many identical maids as will fit in the booth- and then there's a few more underneath. "See? They're like zebras. They all want some attention, but not as much as Modemoiselle. So they can leave and join back in as they wish, and nobody has to be on all the time. Despite the name, Murdermaids are the friendliest darn things you'll ever meet." Starburst takes a sip of her drink. "And some people get off on it, of course."
"It's a lot to take in."
"Just wait until Miss Treatment comes in."
"Is she a nurse? or an evil nurse? or does she just mess you up?"
"Yes, and also giant syringe."
The night was over too quickly. About a dozen heroes and villains each introduced themselves. Mostly a blur. There was a fire guy and an ice queen and like three witches and one bee who was really a swarm. About half of them flirted, and about half of those made it sound like they wanted a hench or a girlfriend. She did wind up breaking that chair over The Titanium Twink's back and applauded when he stood right back up and took a bow. Starburst, never one to be outdone, hucks a shot glass across the room and blasts it to pieces with a single shot from her gauntlet before it hits the wall.
The bar tabs were tallied- including for the glass and the chair- and the capes sent on their way. Some paired off to get some late-night menacing in. Starburst and company got invited to go to the late-night diner with the Miss Chief and Stargazer, but it was getting late. "Next time", was promised.
"Does that mean there's going to be a next time? Friday is karaoke night, and Mighty Megapixel usually does the visuals." Starburst teases.
"You know, I think I will." She smiles. It was time to start making her own decisions, and this was a good one to start with. "I'll need a hand with the outfit."
"You'll need a name first."
She pulls the hair tie off, letting her platinum hair cascade and spread out across the puffy white cloud at the top of the rainbow bolt. The glove comes off (gets sweaty under there anyways) and her camera slides to the side. A deep breath in and out. She tugs the oversized jacket back over her shoulders. You don't have to have a horrible lab accident to get a fresh start. You just need to look around, try something new, and see what floats by.
"Blue Sky."
]]>She swirls you towards the mirror. You can't read, and even if you could, anything but Princess's words just kinda bead up and fall out of your empty head. "You're going to be the official Con Dolly. You're going to become whatever you're wearing, just like you do for me. Your head is full of fun commands people can tell you to do, and you're not gonna know about any of them. You're not going to remember any of this until Princess says so. You just got here, you've never met a perfect, blonde princess, and she certainly hasn't hypnotized you into being a con doll. Everything that happens to you until the end of the convention is totally normal. Hypnosis isn't even real. You always wear your 'Ask Me About My Hypnotic Triggers' shirt, and it doesn't even mean anything. Just make sure you're at the magic show before the closing ceremonies~" You get a kiss on the nose and a Snap!
Ah, GoodGirlCon! You step up to the convention center with a smile. Passes are so hard to get, you thought you wouldn't get to come this year! The only problem is that you couldn't get a cosplay together in time. How's everyone supposed to know who your favorite good girl is? You'll have to tell them with your mouth like some kind of casual! The first thing you notice is a group of cosplayers from your favorite anime- Kemonomimi Excitement Blast! You'd recognize that pink-haired catigirl maid, the bunnygirl librarian with short cyan hair that curls under her chin, and the ponygirl professor with the long, curly half-black half-red hair. You're looking at them, just thinking they're missing a fourth, when they notice you back. You look the other way, but you hear the maid call "Hey! What does your shirt mean? Ask you about your hypnotic tri-"
There's never any darkness. It's more like someone just cut out a few minutes of your life and spliced them together, so now there's three girls smiling and nodding at you. "So we can just play with you all we want?" The maid, easily a head taller than you, smiles down. The bunnygirl bounces eagerly. The ponygirl looks around like she's late for something.
"Ooh, we could finish the group!" The bunny bounces. "We'd have way more fun with a Vixi!"
They notice you're confused. "Look how cute she is when you use her magic words! Do another one."
You see the catgirl's mouth move, and some kind of sound hits your ears, but good brains like yours don't worry about that. They just start realizing how incredibly gay they are for girls in anime pony costumes. Where has this girl been all your life? You rush to kiss her, and she kisses you back! Every moment you lock lips feels more and more right! More and more perfect! Deeper and deeper in love! You can practically feel the big cartoon hearts replacing your eyes. Time loses all meaning, and your mind melts into a swirling, stupid puddle. Eventually, she ends the kiss. Her (perfect, musical, incredible, worshipful) voice fills your head, even though she's not talking to you. "Look at that! She kissed herself stupid."
"Shhtuupid~" You echo. You love repeating after her. It's easy when her words fill your head to the brim.
"Let's take her to the booth on the back of her shirt. Get her dressed up and in character." Someone other than Girl (the only girl that matters~) says. The words vanish pretty much immediately, since they can't be important. Girl (girl!!) takes you by the hand and leads you in your lovestruck haze. Even just touching her hand is enough to send you for a loop. Soon enough, you're at the costume rental booth. There's a lot of talking that you're much too lovestruck to pay attention to, and you're soon getting stripped down again. You get that disconnected feeling that happens when someone's playing with your mind (not that that's possible!) and you're soon looking into a mirror. Lovestruck you gets put away for a little while. Time for dressup you.
A beautiful, perfect crystal dangles in front of your eyes. You lock onto it, because you are a good girl. You're not being hypnotized. You're just letting your mind turn off for a little bit while a pretty girl tells you what to do. Every passing second makes you twice as relaxed as the one before, but you're not hypnotized. That's for silly, gullible people, not smart girls like you! Anyways, you better listen to the cute girl talking to you. Her words are sticking in your brain and covering up whatever was there before.
"Tell me, dear. Does the name 'Vixi' mean anything to you?" She asks, and you nod.
"What images come to your mind when I say that name?"
She appears in your mind's eye. Soon, it's all you can think about. Your eyes flutter shut. "A fox girl. Two big tails. One silver, one gold. She's a cheerleader, and her outfit matches. One silver pom-pom, one gold. Her hair is half and half and has two big fox ears sticking out of it."
"Perfect, dear. I want you to focus on her. Let her fill your mind all the way. All your old thoughts are going to go away for a while. You are Vixie now. Stand up and tell us what that means."
"She's a cheerleader, so she loves to support her friends, but she also l-"
Snap! "You love to support your friends."
"I love to support my friends, especially after they've fallen for one of my tricks. Sometimes I'll switch their clothes around or trick them into kissing. All kinds of fun!"
"Very good." Mmm, you can feel your tails coming in already. You smile and swish them back and forth. You step into your silver and gold cheerleader outfit and bristle your pom-poms! Someone brushes your silver and gold hair into place and rubs your ears.
"Mmmph~ I love it when people rub my ears~"
You hear a laugh. A perfect, beautiful, hypnotic (not that there's such a thing as hypnosis) laugh. "Very good, Vixi dear! I'm going to add one more thing, and you get to go have fun with your friends. You're going to find that whenever you cheer, people have a lovely habit of doing what you say. It doesn't last very long, but I think you'll have a lot of fun with it. And-" Snap!
Your eyes flutter open. You smile at the Vixi in the mirror! That's you! You turn around and go hug your friends! They're a little sleepy and groggy and were just looking at that nice blonde lady with the crystal, but now they're here and you can have fun together!
"Vixi! Foxy! One Two Three! Let's all go see what's to see!"
You giggle when you see silver and gold sparkles shine around your friend's heads, and they all nod and agree with you. "Lead the way, Vixi." Katherine smiles and gestures.
You skip off through the dealer halls, friends in tow. "Ha ha ha and hee hee hee! Cute ponygirls fall in love with me!" You chant. Not only does your favorite red and black pony (her name is Harla!) come hold your hand and kiss you on the cheek, but a girl dressed as Twilight Sparkle leaves her booth selling chainmail dice bags to come give you a kiss.
Mmm, Vixi's gonna have a lot of fun at this con~
]]>You bounce on your feet and launch into "Vixi! Foxy! Yip Yipee! Cute pony girls say 'Please ride me!' On all fours without delay, that would really make my day!" You seal the deal with a lovely, two-tone kiss on the lips. Harla's eyes sparkle with silver and gold and she soon drops onto her hands and knees. "Please ride me, Vixie! I'd hardly be a good pony girl without someone riding me!" You'd oblige, rewarding her with a kiss on the nose and climbing onto her back. She dutifully carries you through the artist's alley, happy as can be.
"No fair! How come we have to walk?" The bunnygirl pouts and blows a lock of synthetic cyan hair out of her face. "Vixi gets to have all the fun."
"Will you stop whining for once? We're here to have fun." The catgirl rolls her eyes and keeps walking. "Come on, we're gonna miss the voice actor panel. I wanna make Mina Meow's voice actress say something ridiculous."
"How come we always have to do what you want?" The bunnygirl, Cyna, mumbles and looks at you. She smiles. You smile back, as if you're hatching the same mischevious plan. And then that thing happens where her mouth moves, you don't hear what she said, and you're doing another cheer because you love cheering! You stand up on your pony's back (she's such a good girl, holding you up like a champ!) and hoist your golden pom-pom into the air.
"Everybody listen to me! This one's easy as one two three! A silly kitty's brain loves cock, a bunny girl starts to rock! Everybody listens to her, and listen to her new pet purr!" Your voice carries across the convention hall, silver and gold sparkles drifting far and wide. People at the epicenter start looking more at your bunny friend, remarking on how cool she is and asking if she needs anything. The catgirl's eyes cross and her tongue rolls out of her mouth. She drops onto her paws and nuzzles against the bulge in Cyna's pencil skirt. She purrs when the librarian bun scratches her big fake black ears.
"Good girl, Vixi!" The bunny laughs. "Now, I want to go see the swordmaking panel. Come along, dears."
Mmm, but you're not done cheering. You step off your trusty steed's back and do a cheer just for the new popular bun. "Looks like it's a bounce attack! Don't get brainwashed by your rack~!" You bristle your pom-poms up by her big ol' bunny ears and let the silver and gold hypnotic dust sprinkle over her. "One two, one two! You're my funny bunny boo!"
"Vixi! I didn't tell you to-" Mmm, you giggle when you watch her eyelids droop and get all sparkly. She starts to bounce in her loafers like the bubbly bunnygirl librarian she is. Her breasts start to bounce up and down with her. "Bouncy! Bouncy! Fun fun fun! I'm the silliest, jumpiest bun!" Look at her, bouncing and jumping and having the time of her life!
People are starting to gather around. After all, this is the bunnygirl to listen to! Everyone knows she rocks! And she's jumping and jiggling and just looking good. You warm up your throat for one more cheer.
"Whatever you do, don't kiss the bunny! It'll make your mind go all bouncy and funny! Whatever she's got sure is contagious! But it's the most fun disease in ages!"
As your metallic spell washes over the crowd, Cyna starts dispensing kisses and more and more people start giggling and bouncing. Satisfied with your work, you ride your pony and lead your catgirl off somewhere they can both suck you off in peace. "Listen, obey, one two three! Good girls want to pleasure me~"
]]>Grace nods and looks out at the hallways, bustling with people who haven't yet caught the bouncing bunny disease currently sweeping the artist's alley. She smiles when she hears the world's brattiest voice pierce the general hustle and bustle of the con floor.
"Jessica! Walk! Faster! God!" A girl with the "noble grace and bearing" you can only get from a school that costs way too much money tugs a girl who could only be called her lackey through the halls.
"Sally, that hurts!" The lackey moans. Of the two girls, she has the more golden hair, the shorter braid, the cuter glasses, and the slower walk. She's looking everywhere but at Sally, which is probably a good idea.
Sally, the taller, more confident, more spoiled, and with the long silver braid, is practically pulling Jessica's arm off. "Hurry up, we have to get to the panels so we can use our VIP badges to cut in line. Otherwise, what's the point?"
Grace steps out in front of them. "Girls, can I borrow you for a moment?"
Sally is, of course, having none of it. She dodges left to avoid the weird magician lady blocking her path. Grace takes a step back and gets in the way again.
"Excuse you." Sally splits. "Can I help y-" Snap!
"Eyes up, mind off." Both Sally and Jessica stare, transfixed, at the point Grace marked with her snap. Lady Laser can't look away, either. Grace looks into Sally's silver (not contacts, insanely expensive surgery) eyes. She takes Sally's arm, tugs it just so, and Snap! "Sleep." Her legs immediately give out and she falls forward onto the magician's shoulder. "Good girl." She gets her hair pet while she's walked out of the aisle. Jessica gets to wake up on her own.
"Uh, what are you doing to my friend?" Poor Jessica, can't even look at the impossibly gorgeous magician who just turned her friend into a rag doll. No, her shoes are much more interesting.
"We just need to borrow her for a little bit. Is that okay? I'll even let you take anything you want from my stall."
"Can I take Sally?"
Grace smiles at Lady Laser. "How do you feel about a walking billboard or two?"
"What are you two talking about?" Jessica stomps her foot and crosses her arms. Look at her, she's worked up the courage to glare at Lady Laser's neck and Grace's belly button.
Snap! "Stiff as a board!" Grace barks to Sally, who promptly obeys and is leaned up against one of the costume racks. "You see, dear." Big smile at Jessica. "We were going to use your friend as a mannequin to drum up business for Lady Laser here. But if you'd like to dress up with her and show off her designs on the convention floor, I think that could be arranged. I'd even give you the keys to your friend's head. You look like you'd like to make some decisions for once."
"Well, maybe a little."
"Good girl." Jessica gets a pat on the head. "Go fetch your friend and we'll get you dressed up."
Jessica is in the middle of trying to figure out how to pick up her stiff friend when another snap demands her attention. Both girls stare helplessly at Grace's swinging, shining crystal. "There we go. Nice, deep breaths. I'm just gonna hypnotize you two a little bit and you're gonna love it~! Good girls say 'Yes, Princess.'"
"Yes, Princess." Jessica and Sally say in blissful unison. Their eyes lit by Princess's crystal and their heads blissful and blank.
"Good girls. It feels good to be good. Good girls repeat after me."
"It feels good to be good~" Look at them leaning against each other with big, empty smiles on their faces.
"Okay!" Grace claps and reveals her crystal again. "You two are magical girls, sent to battle a mysterious evil that is present at this convention! But you're still in your plain clothes! Let's get a good 'Princess Power Make Up!' so you two can transform and fight crime!"
"Princess Power Make Up!" They giggle in unison. Such good girls.
"Lady Laser, if you please." Grace waves her booth neighbor over, who obliges with two of her frilliest, least practical dresses. Sally is first- she gets led into the changing booth and comes out dressed as the least mobile maid you could imagine. Finely polished black high heels. Countless layers of petticoats. Big hoop skirt. Fine black silk on top. A white apron with a big pink heart and "Lady Laser's Lolita Lane" written around it. Poofy shoulders. Long white gloves. Grace completes the ensemble with a feather duster and some black lipstick. She plucks a big, curly black wig off her own rack and swaps it out for Sally's hair. "I'll hold onto this for you." Grace winks, settling Sally's long silver braid on a wig head.
Grace snaps her fingers and beckons silly, hypnotized Jessica over. She takes the other outfit and guides her into the changing booth. Jessica gets a much more colorful treatment. She gets a lot of pink! Pink high heeled platform shoes, stockings with hearts all the way up, a pinker, frillier, poofier dress than Sally ever got, including a bunch of hearts made out of frills, and that's not even counting her long, shimmering sleeves and gloves. Grace paints her lips a sweet pink, some hearts on her cheeks, and gets her a long pink wig with a huge ol' bow on top. She gets a golden scepter with a pink plastic heart gem on top. It even lights up!
"There we go! Good girls. You, Jessie, are Lady Love! With your mighty scepter, you can bring the power of love into anyone's life! But, sadly, the evil has corrupted your staff, and now it just creates lust wherever you go! Hope you figure it out in time before you and everyone else just get too horny to function~!" Jessica presses the staff against the front of her dress and moans a little~
"And you, Sally, are the Masked Meido." Grace produces a flimsy little black mask that covers about an inch around her eyes and sticks it on Sally. "You are going to be the first to fall under Lady Love's spell. You'll be your usual self until Lady Love works on you. You'll be such a good little maid, so eager to impress her. I know you'd do anything to make sure Lady Love succeeds in her mission~!"
Both girls nod and accept their mission. They look so happy!
Snap!
The Masked Meido blinks her eyes open. She doesn't waste any time crossing her (extremely dressed up) arms and scoffing. "Ugh, can we go?"
Lady Love giggles. "That's not the kind of attitude I expect from my maids, dear~!" She playfully taps the maid's forehead with her scepter. The cheap pink LED inside flashes, and silly Sally's silver eyes flash to match.
An involuntary moan escapes her black lips. "Sorry, Lady Love~!" She pants.
"Because you love to serve~!" Lady Love bops her maid again and ventures off into the con floor.
"I love to serve~!" The maid's thighs clench together before she dutifully trots after her lady.
And so, both magical girls run off to go kiss and fight evil or whatever!
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