18 years old.sideblog of a mysterious stranger.If you are unable to read any story I have recommended due to not having an account,I am willing to send you a download of them.
24 posts
Deviantvulpine - AlternativelyFoxy - Tumblr Blog
Psychic pokemon just projecting extremely horny thoughts and fantasies into you brain when they're in the mood, or just wanna tease you
tfw you’re trying to do your job and your delphox starts flashing pngs of her lying face down ass up on your bed at home strokin it
fox demon who curls you up in her tails
Psych Pokémon in heat either a) hypnotizing you into being an obedient pet while they use you how they want
Or b) just psychically holding you in place, forcing your muscles to go lax as they stretch you alllll the way open
delphox on top of you bouncing on it and you know you shouldn't be doing this but you literally can't move until she's done getting what she wants
and then you both finish and you're excited to move again and she just starts licking it
and then you're finally able to get off the bed like three hours later when she's satisfied
magazines you can buy in sketchy stores that are 50-odd pages of scantily clad and nude pokemon of all types in vaguely scandalous poses and stories and advice about fucking them.
someone reading one on the train and blushing and all the other humans looking at them thinking “reading that? in public? what a freak” meanwhile every pokemon in the train car is thinking about fucking them
Psychic pokemon just projecting extremely horny thoughts and fantasies into you brain when they're in the mood, or just wanna tease you
tfw you’re trying to do your job and your delphox starts flashing pngs of her lying face down ass up on your bed at home strokin it
something really fucking hot abt how big fursuit paws are. just. clamping them over my mouth and they're so big i literally can't get out of your grip. can only look around helplessly as im forced to huff n worship your pawstink 🥴🥴🥴
you there! order that plushie with a custom satin-lined pussy. and then, you know, cum in it
Opinions on zoroark?:3
the things i want zoroarks to do to me are illegal nearly everywhere in the country
Can't get the concept of a pool toy / balloon creature heavily interested in rough play out of my head.
A synthetic creature with sensitive "skin" but loves it when their partner rough handles them, pulling them closer for kisses. Peppering their face before going lower and nipping into their neck. A faint hsssssssssss escaping the inflatable creature's neck. Sharp claws sinking into their puffy thighs, wasting no time adding to noise of air rapidly escaping their partner underneath them who will soon properly go limp as they deflate in their lover's arms~
Aftercare involves placing patches over holes and properly re-inflating their partner~
I'd also like to think the "skin" can heal naturally over time though perhaps, similar to scars and bruises, there'd be some temporary discoloration on the creature's body~
Guy who has wandered through the halls and corridors of your body not with any special kind of love but with the untold intimacy of a contractor assessing the damages and potentials voice: right, so the main issue here is that the body is currently a temple, okay, and what we want is for it to be a home, cause temples are pretty and all and occasionally nice to be in if you're into that sort of thing but very few people would actually want to live in one. So what we're gonna do first is you're gonna take a look at what's here, the carrying walls and windows and all that, and you're going to come up with something you'd actually like to be alive inside of, and it's going to be a lot of work and it's going to feel strange and stupid and embarrassing but you're still gonna do it, because otherwise this construction site is fucked. And maybe what you want to live in is a skatepark or an anime-themed cat cafe or an esoteric library that has a dildo section for some reason, so it might feel like it's a downgrade from a temple, but it's actually the opposite cause the main customer for a body is you and the main customer for a temple are templegoers and maybe higher powers of some kind, - i wouldn't know about those, they never hired me, - not the temple itself, which is what you are, right, cause the body/mind/soul separation doesn't actually do anything, so what you're gonna do is look at the current layout and dig out whatever hope and ability to want you have and come up with a blueprint, and then my boys can actually get to work. Oh, and you have got to change the windows, it's drafty as fuck in here.
Hey, don’t cry. Free online database of Japanese folk lore
Crew attire cosplay?
Lately I've been thinking a lot about "what would separate mecha crew equipment from that of a tank crew, or a fighter crew": A lot of military surplus stuff is already really close to what we're going for, and I realized "Motorcycle boots look a lot more like mech pilot stuff than military boots do", which got me thinking what other odd equivalences exist.
The one which really surprised me was how famous mecha live action SF Gunhed used a wetsuit as a stand-in for "generic scifi bodysuit", and that it worked weirdly well, actually?
"Why not latex?"
Latex rips too easily in contact with straps and hard elements, overheats far, far too easily despite having the looks. Thin neoprene works. really well.
So I kept exploring.
One thing I did seriously debate is other than rappelling equipment, would a pilot need something like a rigid knee-brace for hard landings to protect the ACL when they disembark from the robot which is common with high impact parachute equipment.
Some varieties also include counter-weighted springs which make it harder for you to close your knee, but make lifting heavy things on your back and climb much much easier during the ascent phase.
That led me towards Deck Crew helmets, which meet the hood requirement, and of all things, chin wraps which are really unobstructive and you can eat and drink while wearing one pretty comfortably (I say this as someone currently stuck wearing one)
So what we're looking at here is the HGU-24 and HGU-25, often worn by deck crews because it gets along just fine with the famous MCU-2/P AKA "Millenium" mask famous with drone communities as they're designed to be worn together.
Its literally the exact same mask with a minor paint adjustment.
"What's the difference between a drone and a pilot?" "One wears AXENT and latex, the other wears HGU-25 and neoprene." "Anything else?" "Drones have less sex and do as they're told"
Its got the bash-plates you want for an ejector-seat, but it also has the padded foam you want for an impact element, and if it latches properly and the jaw mechanism is well made enough, you could probably include a hans mechanism attached to the jacket which locks into a socket in the pilot's seat to stop a pilot from breaking their neck in a collision.
What do you guys think?
Any suggestions? What I'm really curious about is what you think pilots would remove, customize or alter for practical or decorative purposes.
This is basically the result of roughly a year of casual research into pilot attire, outfits and looks.
The helm and the hood seem to be where the most manual cosplay stitching and 3D printing work is likely going to be required, with the wrap and helmhood.
Addendum:
I've not gone into waste management systems (UCL/FCL human-factors engineering stuff with internal and external recovery systems), since I'm looking at this mainly as an attainable costume or ensemble.
Edit:
I am learning some of you use aquatic mecha and find this unsatisfactory.
And you won't shut up about how the coolant mass flow rate lets you do really wild shit with your weapons my "land-loving" platform even can't dream of
While I am jealous by your sheer tonnage and the output of your reactors, I've got you covered.
Behold: Immersion suits.
They also make surprisingly good sleeping bags, even if you're on water.
They're literally designed to keep you alive if you're forced to abandon an oil platform, and are known to include a radio and even rations and a water filter.
The engineer looked at the sorcerer's dungeon plans. "A lot of sorting doors here." "To split any adventuring party, sending them separate ways." "Mhm. But these cheap two-fold doors…" "Everyone is one or the other, right?" "Many are in-between. They'll walk right through."
"Listen," one guard said, "I know we have only just met-"
"No," the other guard said, "we've worked together for years!"
"-but you can trust me when I say-"
"I can't, you have the curse that's opposite from mine!"
"I don't care for you at all."
"Well, I… oh… I love you too."
I love these authors with my whole beating heart. The both of them are 100% the reason I got into objectification and teratophila.
Xperimental with all their original works but especially the crevass series.
Hole in the wall and jade and (insert fancy flower name here that I cant spell.none of their other stories have the word jade in the title,you can figure it out.) are the ones I've read multiple times.I like all of their works but I don't tend to reread them for some reason. No clue why.
“So, like… speaking hypothetically. Just to help me get my head around the whole. Biometric key. Thing. If - if, again, purely hypothetically, I told you to kill… that guy. There, across the street. In the overcoat. You’d do it?”
“Automatically. Like breathing.”
The hacker wets their lips, knowing they shouldn’t ask, unable to resist. “How?”
“Dunno.” The machine tilts her head, studying the stranger in the long coat like a curious dog. The hacker still can’t think of her as an it. They’ve seen the file, the photograph of the woman this instrument was made from. “Snap his neck, let’s say. He wouldn’t feel it much. A little time, while the heart and the lungs turn off. Then lights.”
“Oh.” The hacker pushes a hand through their hair. It comes back damp. “I feel sick.”
“Better watch what you say to me, then. Boss.”
“Stop it,” they say. She’s been doing it since they figured out how to make her stop hunting them. They just wanted to be safe, not... whatever this is. “Stop calling me that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No – no, that’s worse,” desperate now, “please, stop it, can’t you just talk to me like a person?”
“Why? So you can keep kidding yourself about the nature of this relationship? You own me now. You are the finger on the trigger, you are central command. If you want me to speak to you in a certain way, I suggest you exercise your authority and make me.”
Silence.
“Can we… Can you go back to calling me ‘boss’. At least. Sir is… just…”
“Sure. We can do that.”
Thorn's Guide To Dating (Your) Apparel
A living plushie seeks dating advice from her closest friend. He works his magic (literal) and helps her open up (literal AND figurative) to new possibilities.
This piece was written as a companion to this commission, done by @bluebearial! Please check out her art she's awesome
CW: this is about as suggestive as i can POSSIBLY make it without making it explicit lmao
“Thorn?” called Lyra, standing outside of their–really, his–dorm room. She knocked on the door. The tiger padded politely, but her pillow-sized paw still met the wood with enough force to rattle the heavy planks in their frame.
“Ooh, you’re back!” came the muffled reply from inside the room, followed by the scraping of a chair and the tapping of much-lighter paws across the floor. It opened, and her host beamed up at her between floppy pink bangs and a puffy ivory dewlap. “You finally gonna tell me who you’ve been seeing all this time?”
“Thorn, no, oh my goodness.” He pouted, but she continued. “If I tell you who it is, they’re gonna know all about it by tomorrow!”
“Yeah? And how’s that gonna happen?”
“You aren’t exactly famous for thinking before you speak, bestie.”
“Tch. Will you at least tell me how it went?”
“Well,” the tiger began, lowering her head to fit through the doorway as Thorn scrambled out of her way, “it was pretty great… I met them outside of their last class for the day, and we sat together for a while in the dining hall. I didn’t have anything—”
“Obviously,” interrupted the cat, who was now flopped on his bed, kicking his paws in the air behind him.
“—Obviously,” agreed the plush golem, taking his seat at a desk many sizes too small for her. “But, y’know, hearing about somebody’s favorite foods is a fun topic of conversation. And while their hands were full eating, I offered to hold their flash cards, and, and help them study for the midterm they have coming up. And they seemed really excited to tell me about the material, too! So I think that’s a good sign.”
“Well, you’re a great listener, y’know!” Thorn’s smile was as genuine as ever. Though she was still unused to the praise, she smiled down at her lap, pressing the stitched pads of her paws idly together. “Lyraaaa,” he chided. He didn’t think she would protest the compliment, but he wanted to hear her accept it! “I’m not just saying so to be nice! Seriously, this is like, the third time this week they’ve asked you to hang out, right? They must like you.”
“Yeah…” she trailed off. She met Thorn’s eyes briefly, then averted them again, this time without a shy little grin to accompany them.
“Yeah, but?” he prompted.
“Yeah, but… I don’t know what to do? About that?” They stared at each other for a long moment. Lyra wrung and fidgeted with her paws, and Thorn cocked his head to the side as his paws fell to the bed.
“You could… tell them you li—”
“I’m not!! Telling them I like them!” Lyra cut him off, a touch shrill. She’d had to shoot down this idea more than once—Thorn was much, much more headstrong than she was. “Not yet at least! I’m just, not ready to! Well, okay, I’m almost ready. But even when I do tell them, what do we… what do we do? After that?”
“Well, you kind of just start hanging out with each other more than you already do?”
“Okay, yes, I know what dating is—”
“So then what exactly isn’t clicking?”
“Well—you see people kissing and stuff, and I, I know I can do that, and I know couples cuddle and stuff, which, I’m pretty much perfect for—”
“Right! I sleep on you every night, and I think it’s pretty great, so… you should be fine?”
“Yeah, but that’s not all couples do? I dunno, you know I have a lotta free time, and I go through your shelves or trawl the library, and I’ve read a lot about… courtship in different cultures, and, and seen a lot of physiological diagrams, and…” She pressed her snout into her paws, her already-faltering voice muted further by her stuffing. “And there are some romance novels at the library too, which were…”
“Bestie, you learned about boning down in textbooks and penny dreadfuls?”
“LOOK,” she sputtered, throwing her paws in the air, “You know I understand things BETTER when I learn it from the BASICS!” Thorn’s little chair rocked beneath her as her weight shifted back; her tail flicked back and forth behind her.
“Well, I guess some medieval corpse-appraiser’s dick pics are as basic as it gets.” He thoughtfully propped his chin up on his paw. “Especially when you don’t have any lived experience with junk of your own.”
“Exactly,” the plushie moped, leaning on Thorn’s desk, her own cheek deflatedly resting on her own paw.
“I don’t really see why it would come up, though? I mean, you haven’t even asked them out yet, and Lyra, you know I love you, but you wouldn’t make the first move anyway.” She rumbled in acknowledgement, more defeated than offended.
“Yeah, but, what if they make a move? I kinda… can’t.”
“But like, that doesn’t really matter, nyeah? They’ve gotta know sex isn’t really on the table, I mean, ‘being made of fabric’ is maybe the second or third thing people notice about you?”
“Wh—second or third?” She asked, straightening up. “What… what would someone notice first?” Thorn wordlessly placed his paw atop his head—scrunching down his pointy little witch hat—and stretched his arm above himself as far as he could. Yeah, alright. She flopped back down onto his desk.
“Seriously though! You’ve probably read about asexual people too. Those guys still go on loads of dates, plenty of ‘em have partners, all that. It’s just, not a requirement.”
“Yeah, but what if they do want it? Not everybody’s asexual, and, I dunno…” She turned away, half-heartedly hiding her face again. “I think I’d like it too? Not even sex, necessarily, just… there’s something about that kind of physical intimacy that sounds appealing.”
“What happened to you and me literally sharing a bed every night?”
“You know full well it’s more like I am the bed,” she muttered, tossing one of his erasers at him as he giggled.
“Alright, well, let’s think! You wanna be able to fuck this person–”
“Easy!!”
“—But you don’t have anything to do it with—”
“Thorn, we’ve talked about this, absolutely no more unsanctioned fleshcrafting. The faculty is already keeping a close eye on you after—”
“Okay! Okay alright fine, I won’t give you any bits,” he huffed, scrounging for a backup plan. “You said it didn’t have to be literal sex anyway, so… You wanna be real close to ‘em, and you want it to be intimate, and you want it to be kinda horny and kinda touchy?”
“I’m begging you to say things less directly.”
“Well, bestie, ‘straight to the point’ is the only time I’ll ever be straight, and I think I know something that’ll work for you!”
“I’m still not convinced this is gonna be better than the fleshcrafting,” she croaked.
“Trust!”
“You can’t just justify every plan you have by saying ‘tr—’”
Not even halfway through her sentence, Thorn had pounced out of the bed and landed on the opposite side of the room from Lyra. He turned dramatically, flicking his robe to the side like some kind of tiny Dracula, His wand was already in his hand. As it crackled with magic, Lyra briefly wondered where he even kept the damned thing–he was always losing it, but seemed to have it on hand whenever he was about to make an idea of his into someone else’s problem.
She didn’t get to think about it much longer—with some paw-waving and the recitation of some phrases in an old language she was still learning herself, magic arced from the wand to her body, bathing her in soft pink light that made all the fuzz on her fabric stand on end. Whatever he had done didn’t take long, and honestly, didn’t feel like much either; while he stood there, proud of himself, with his paws on his hips, she spent a good thirty seconds patting herself down and twisting in the chair to see where the changes had happened.
“Thorn, what did you even—oh,” she paused, finally noticing a shiny piece of metal poking out of the fluff on her chest. “What? Is this?”
“A zipper!” he grinned.
“A. A zipper? Thorn, you hollowed me out?!”
“Well, not exactly hollowed, but—”
“WHY?”
“Well, alright, so! Something I’ve seen lots of people scrying to each other about is the way that kink stuff is kind of the exact intersection of things you were saying you wanted, right—”
“Kink?? What kink would this even be for?”
“I guess you’d just call it ‘suiting’? There’s a lot of people who want to like, merge with their partner, or who wanna fuck a slime girl specifically or something, and the idea is like, being in someone is just about the closest you can get to them?”
“You want me to ask my crush to wear me?”
“I—”
“Are you INSANE, Thorn???”
“I’m TELLING you, bestie!! If you want intimacy, and you want it to be horny, you’re looking at trust and control! It’s just like how, for a lotta people, the fun part about sex is just having someone treat you right, right?”
“Oh, and you have so much sex to back that up?”
“No,” the catboy replied plainly and pleasantly.
“UGH.”
“Just look! I know you make me feel all comfy when I curl up on you for the night, so imagine how pampered someone would feel being surrounded by you! They’d be able to let you make all the decisions for a bit, since you’d be walking ‘em around. And forget the kind of trust it takes to ‘let someone in’, like, emotionally—it’d be a real meaningful gesture to let them in physically!” Lyra stared back at him for a moment. She couldn’t find anything… wrong, with what he was saying, but she just couldn’t believe she’d let him do this.
“Why do I ask you for help? Ever? You’d think, you’d think I’d learn to at least ask you to hand me your wand, first, or something—”
“C’moooon, will you at least see how it feels? You’re lookin’ at a B+ in transmutation right there! I put a lotta perfectly good mana into that spell!”
“Agh, fine.”
The plush was becoming acutely aware of how much lighter the inside of her chest felt, anyway; it was worth having a look around, if for no reason but to get to grips with the sensation. She looked down at the pull of the zipper and reached a paw up to grab it. It was small compared to the rest of her body—she struggled to grip it with her paw pads, almost as though it wasn’t designed for her use despite being a part of her body.
When she did finally find purchase, she found that she could feel through the metal. She rubbed the tab between two digits. Another feeling welled up inside her, occupying the same space as the hollowness in her chest, but not displacing it. And the sensation of fabric on metal… definitely wasn’t unpleasant. She moved to pull the tab down her chest, but glanced up at Thorn, who was staring straight back at her.
“D-do you mind?” she asked. He tucked his paws behind his back and coyly looked away. Whatever, they’d seen plenty of each other as it was. Slowly, she pulled, and slowly the zipper glided open; tens of tiny snaps, layering over each other into a harmonious little vvvvrrrrrr, reverberated through her chest and down her back. The teeth of the zipper had barely even parted, and already she felt… exposed. “Naked” wasn’t quite the word—she seldom wore clothes anyway, given her original situation of having nothing to cover. The feeling was something else entirely.
She hesitated to pull the zipper all the way down, instead opting to feel around the new opening in her torso, hoping to get a better look at her own insides. As soon as the fur on her paw brushed against the inner lining of her chest, she sat bolt upright, nearly knocking the chair over. It was a powerful sensation—an entirely new one, too. She couldn’t name it, but she knew she was sensitive on the inside, almost delicate. And yet, she wanted to touch more—she wanted to feel more. She ventured her paw, uncertain and trembling, into herself again. This time, she gasped, and the heaving of her chest caused yet more of her lining to drag against her paw. Her eyes were wide, her snout frozen open. The hollowness inside her chest had become a tingling ache, and she felt it everywhere; the cavity of her chest, the sleeves formed by her limbs, all freshly-exposed to air were yearning for something. She did not know the feeling was something else entirely.
“Leylines and divines,” she huffed, voice fluttering with breath that suddenly seemed to escape her, “What did you do to me, Thorn?”to me, Thorn?”
“Uh,” he stumbled, evidently as stunned as she was. “I may have included an amothurgic incantation or two in there, to um, give you a little confidence? But I would call that, maybe, a C-, at best?”
“That seems a little generous,” Lyra said, voice eerily level, unsettlingly focused, “and I’m going to smother you with my own two paws when I get back.”
“Get back?” His ears flicked forward, his wits finally back about him. “Where are you going?”
The question barely even registered in Lyra’s mind—it was fully occupied imagining the sensation of heaviness that might come with being worn. The buzz of her zipper, opening up in the deft hands of her soon-to-be occupant; the feeling of someone squirming around inside her, settling in, getting comfortable, setting every inch of her insides alight with the touch of a trusted partner; each part of her, stuffed, cotton filling shoved aside and woolen lining stretched as arm occupied arm and leg occupied leg. She imagined someone looking through her eyes, breathing the same air as them, as they wriggled their head into the vacant space inside her own, minds more closely-aligned than she could ever have conceived of before. She imagined fumbling with her own zipper, faltering and shuddering from the flood of every other sensation, and finally sealing her companion, her confidante, her co-pilot, within herself. She wanted that feeling of fullness—if her mouth could water, she might just have drooled at the notion.
“I’m gonna go find my crush.”
“Oh. Oh.” Lyra was already moving for the door. “Well good luck!! GET it, bestie!! You’ll tell me everything, right?”
“Of course,” she said, halfway out of the room.
“Do you think I’ll be able to climb in when you get back?” Thorn called after her.
“Don’t push your luck,” she scolded, turning and leaning back into the doorframe to shoot daggers at him. She started down the hall, then once again turned and leaned to make eye contact. “Let me see whether they’re okay sharing me.”
“YES!” She heard over her shoulder. “I’m gonna sleep SO GOOD tonight!!” She rubbed her face with her paws, frustrated in more ways than one. If she let him crawl out of bed in the next week, it’d be a miracle for both of them.
Cache Clearing
A piece I did in a bit of a frenzy after working with (you guessed it) Bowsiosaurus on the design for a new OC: meet Posie!! The thought process here was literally, like, no sooner than we decided on "make a Renamon" i was like "hey what if she ate a bunch of data", so, I hope you enjoy it as much as she seemed to =^w^=
CW: Weight gain, tummy/breast expansion, stern office woman is so full from Information yum
A tall, stately fox moved down the drab, linoleum-and-drop-tile maintenance corridor with the same grace, the same level and unerring gait, that one of her four-legged, flesh-and-bone counterparts might display while stalking prey through the underbrush. Though her feet ended in points, modeled as a smooth taper from her knee to a single vertex apiece, the clack of high heels echoed down the empty hallway with each step. Her purpose was singular, and her focus undivided.
She was a Renamon who had adapted to a digital landscape that was as predictable as it was unforgiving; while her predecessors were more suited to the wild west of the adolescent internet, all the precision and discipline that they dedicated to roughhousing instead allowed her to operate within the razor-thin margins of error of the corporate world. She kept things running, and that was exactly what she made her way to the server room to do now.
She waved a paw over the electronic lock on the door, an uncannily smooth, mechanical motion, made with the other paw primly held behind her ramrod-straight back. It was a far cry from the jerky, stiff displays one might expect from a physical construct, though the knob turned under her touch as though she was solid as steel. As it swung closed behind her, she approached the subject of her attention for her next task: server rack B-0, a cabinet of solid-state drives stacked even higher than she was, each loaded to the brim with trade secrets, proprietary information, logs of confidential exchanges, schematics, financial records. All of it was outdated. She had been sent by the management to ensure that it was properly deleted.
Her lip curled into a sneer at the thought. Data disposal was so… undignified. It was beneath a woman of her stature. She had thoroughly demonstrated her particular capabilities: the multitasking necessary direct intra-system traffic in real time, reducing latency; her knack for optimizing data for the most efficient storage; she had even taken the initiative to create financial projections from the figures under her care. And still they expected her to perform a task so crude that any program picked up on a shovelware site could handle it without complication! She huffed, her eyes narrowed into her typical glare, as though she wished she could melt the damned server with the infrared beams she would otherwise use to communicate with it.
Nonetheless, there was no use putting it off any longer. The 2.6 seconds she had spent ruminating could have been better spent elsewhere, and she would be remiss to waste even more time. She was the Renamon assigned to maintaining the integrity of the company’s data center, and she would not shirk that duty, no matter how uncouth it was. She unlatched the wire-mesh cabinet door, reached into the rack, and removed the first drive in the array with a soft k-chk.
Closing her eyes and bracing herself with a deep breath, she brought the disk to her snout, opened her mouth, and moved as though to take a bite out of it. Her pointed, polygonal teeth passed harmlessly through the metal, phasing as she could through any of the other surfaces in the building (though she made a point of logging her activities by using her credentials at doors, like any other employee). The data on the two plates within, however, were far from unscathed—bits parted like the muscle fibers in a succulent cut of steak, zeroed out as she pulled the drive from between her lips, swallowing the information once contained within.
She let out an almost-gasp—Pahhh!—like she was trying not to gag. It wasn’t that the data were unpalatable. Far from it; she could, begrudgingly, understand why her wild cousins were so apt to chew through any unsecured files they could get their paws on. It was the task itself that was distasteful: this was only the first bite of the first drive in the entire rack! She resented that her superiors seemed to think of her as a bottomless recycle bin. Besides, work of this nature came up rather infrequently. Reacclimating herself to the sensation of eating was always a touch uncomfortable.
She powered through regardless, knowing the feeling would settle as she got further underway. She brought the drive back up to her face, taking another bite further into the plate, as though she was gnawing off segments of a particularly thick chocolate bar; with her other paw, she disengaged another drive from the rack. She nibbled off the last morsel of data from the first drive and brought the second immediately to her maw; it was… more efficient to do it that way. As fast as possible. The sooner she could get all these units formatted, the better, of course.
Replacing the first, now-empty drive, she replaced it in its slot and reached for a third as she chewed on the second. On and on she went, paws working in perfect unison to maintain an unbroken chain of drives to deplete; she might have compared herself to a juggler if her cheeks weren’t already burning from the indignity. Electrons slid down her tongue—her mouth was watering more than she cared to acknowledge—and down the back of her throat. Bite. Swallow. Bite. Swallow. Replace. Switch. Bite. Swallow. Bite.
Her pace only increased as she continued. Of course it would. A computer performs better after it’s had time to warm up, after all. And, of course, she simply wanted this to be done and over with as quickly as possible. It was a mercy that she didn’t need to pay any mind to her volume controls, as far away from any other personnel as the data center was. Not that she was paying attention anyway, fully-focused on completing her task as she was. Nobody—not even herself—would notice the muffled mmphs and nnffs she made as she pressed on.
All the data on the disks had to go somewhere, and it was at this point in the process that that tended to become apparent. Beneath the fur on her chest, meticulously brushed and fastidiously fluffed, her breasts became gradually more prominent. At first, the tuft was enough to mostly obscure them—after all, so what if she seemed slightly fluffier that day?—but was soon outpaced. Electrical charges by the millions, now unmoored from their tidy array inside the drives, now sloshed into her, taking up more and more of her own storage space. In short order, the fluff was scarcely enough to cover just her cleavage.
One third of the way through the server rack, now. Still, her pace only increased, one drive in each paw.
Her thighs were already rather prodigious. They were the majority of her curves, under normal circumstances, and she took some pride in the matronly figure that she cut as a result. Now, they pressed closer and closer together beneath the skirt of fur that she sported, the conical abstractions of her lower extremities widening bite by bite (and byte by byte). They pressed further and further outward, straining the “garment” itself, pushing the hem further and further up along her legs; the circular patterns on her hips, reminiscent of loading symbols, became distorted, stretched. She would have thought it was a crude change, not unlike resizing an image file with improper scaling—if she were capable of focusing on anything other than the gigabytes upon gigabytes she was so doggedly downloading.
Well over halfway now. She was shoving storage into her maw two at a time, with both paws. If she was able to hold more drives at a time, she would have; as a matter of fact, it didn’t stop her from trying.
The largest component of her directory—her midsection—naturally took the brunt of the new load. Slowly, the soft, icy-blue fur of her tummy billowed out, first simply swelling as her stomach filled, then folding onto itself, rolls smushing down on each other under their newfound, still-growing weight. Soon enough, she found herself pressed up against the lower racks of the server, though even in her focused state, she hadn’t realized that she had stepped closer. She hadn’t moved any closer, of course, but she needed to step further back regardless: she found that she was beginning to struggle to bend over, straining against herself to reach the lowest-mounted drives in the array.
Finally, heaving for breath, she extended her paw for another drive and found none remaining that needed to be cleared. She blinked and, once she was more aware of herself, pushed down a sense of disappointment. Instead, she straightened herself (allowing the new mass to settle to a stop after the motion), dusted her skirt, and conjured a good riddance air about herself as she closed the server door once again. She could still find pride in a job well done, even if she was loathe to do the job.
As she stepped out once again into the hallway, ensuring that the door was securely closed—not that there was a single trace remaining of anything sensitive that had been stored there—she folded her hands behind her back and surprised herself with a burp that was most definitely ladylike. One paw flew to her snout as it echoed down the hallway, both in shock and to hide the near-glow of her cheeks. She glanced in either direction: mercifully, still vacant. Her shoulders slumped in relief, one of the rare occasions on which she relaxed her posture. Thankfully, nobody but her would know that she’d had to do one of her dirtier jobs today. She set off back the way she had came, her footsteps now playing at maximum volume—not even a clack anymore as much as a clomp.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it =^w^= If you'd like to see more of my writing, have a look here and here!
Thorn's Hoop-Hole Loophole
CW: Transformation, Accidental Suiting
“Sophomores and seniors,” hollered a short, pink-and-white cat in a witch’s hat about two sizes too big for his body, projecting his voice all the way to the back row like the ringleader of a circus. “Red wizards and blue wizards too, students and sages of ALL kinds of ages… Welcome!” he chirped, undercutting the booming introduction he had built up for himself—not that his voice was all that imposing, anyway.
“I’m sure some of you recognize me from class. I see a few familiar faces! For those of you who recognize me from, well, from an incident with some transmutation magic a few months back, boy, do I have a treat for you today! We’re gonna do something like that again!”
A few of the spectators tensed in their chairs; one or two jumped straight out and started heading for the doors of the auditorium.
“I’m not gonna do the SAME trick! I promise! The folks in the office wouldn’t have let me into the talent show to begin with if I’d pitched that to them, ahaha.” Most of the anxious members of the audience relaxed, though one of them was still waiting near the exit, just in case. “Anyway, that’ll be the real trick! We’re all magicians here, so casting any old spell wouldn’t be all that impressive—illusions are first-year stuff, too! Instead, you’re all going to watch the Hoodini of Academic Holds do the one thing he’s been banned from doing!” He paused for a moment, scratching his head with one pink paw. “Well, not the one thing, but who’s counting?”
“We’re gonna need a volunteer, by the way. How abooouuut, ummmmmm…” He looked out over the crowd. A few people (especially the ones who had been on edge earlier) avoided making eye contact; even fewer raised their hands. He settled on someone sitting a few rows away from the front: a timid-looking, periwinkle sea serpent with a pair big, round, pupilless eyes above an equally-round snout. “You! You’ll do just fine! Why don’t you come up here?”
The dragon’s fins stood on end, ver eyelashes fluttering as vee blinked in surprise.
“Oh! Um,” vee considered, shifting around in ver chair. “Sure, I could come onstage.” Vee rose and shuffled sideways past ver seatmates’ legs to the aisle. As vee ambled up to Thorn, vee held ver claws up in front of ver in a way that reminded Thorn of a friend of his. Not quite as anxious of a gesture, but then, she’d gotten better about that recently. Well enough that she’d be joining him onstage as well, as it happened!
The cat took a dramatic bow to greet ver when vee climbed the steps to the stage, waving a paw in the air behind himself with a flair and a flick. In his grasp appeared a large hoop with a little puff of smoke. He let it go, sending it rolling along his arm, past his still-lowered head, and down the other arm onto the stage; it rolled around and around the dragon on its edge, finally tipping over onto its side and spinning to a stop right before ver feet.
“Why don’t you step into the ring for me, oh brave volunteer?” He beckoned, having slipped right back into his showman’s voice. The dragon obliged, looking uncertainly at Thorn.
“You’re gonna have to get that tail in there,” he nudged ver, pointing down at the floor outside the hoop. Once vee had gathered it up around ver feet, snugly coiled within the confines of the ring, vee looked back up at the cat; he nodded between ver and the audience, directing them to face forward. Vee gave a little wave with one of ver idly-hanging claws.
“So! What’s your name, bestie?”
“Bowsie!”
“Ahaaah, not for long it isn’t,” replied the cat, smugly. Bowsie cocked ver head to the side, and a few murmurs arose from the members of the crowd who had seen Thorn’s handiwork before. “Oh, don’t worry! It’s great to meet you! As a matter of fact, I’m gonna show these fine folk how to turn you into a friend of mine. A very specific one, in fact! Some of y’all might recognize her, too, once she joins us on stage! That’s where you’re gonna help me, Bowsie. But first, let’s get to know each other a little better, huh? What do you study?”
“Well, ah, I actually just changed my major. I realized I was very interested in fashion, so, I changed most of my classes over to that! Lots of working with unorthodox materials, enchantments for practical wear, you know.”
“Interesting! And a fantastic coincidence—I’ve got just the pattern for you to try on. I promise, she’ll be a real great fit!”
“Ah, that’s right, you said this was… transmutation magic?”
“Ahuh, yep!”
“And… you’re going to turn me into this friend of yours.”
“That’s right!”
“Oh. Goodness,” vee mumbled, hoping that the blush spreading across ver face wouldn’t be visible in the front row. Perhaps the spotlight washed it out? The idea of being somebody else for a bit just sounded… very, very fun!
“That’s where this hoop comes in!” Thorn explained, bubbly as ever. He produced his wand, seemingly from nowhere, and pointed it at the ring on the ground. “This is your round-trip ticket,” he continued as the ring beginning to vibrate and, ever so slightly, lift from the ground at the wand’s command. “We’re gonna go from the ground up, change you bit by bit! As it passes over you, it’s gonna turn you into someone you might otherwise be studying in one of your enchanting classes. Doesn’t that sound fun?” Turning and winking to the crowd, he added, “And yes, this is all one hundred percent sanctioned by the good folks running the show. I hope you all have a good time trying to puzzle that one out! But, you know what they say about magicians and secrets, and cats and bags, ‘n’ all that. So whaddaya say, Bowsie? You feel ready?”
The dragon nodded, tight-lipped. It was a little embarrassing to be so excited about something in front of a crowd this big, but vee thought vee was holding it together pretty well! Now all vee had to do was sit still and let it happen. Just like getting a shot at the apothecary! Easy as pie!
“Fantastic! Everybody, let’s give my lovely assistant a nice big round of applause, huh?” Politely, the crowd followed along, cheering to send Bowsie off like the onlookers to a ship’s maiden voyage; just like the christening of a new ship, they could only hope vee would come back in one piece.
“And awaaaaayyyyyy we go!”
As soon as the ring began to levitate around ver ankles, Bowsie could feel ver composure start to slip. They shivered with anticipation, trying to keep still enough not to give it away to any of the spectators. Already, ver feet began to feel heavier; vee lifted one foot slightly, wiggling ver toes. Strangely, the big, plushie paw didn’t leave the wooden panels of the stage—but vee could feel the swish of fabric on fabric! It was like pulling on a pair of leggings that were fresh out of the dryer, or wriggling into a warm sleeping bag on a cold night.
Vee couldn’t bring verself to look down, or ver face might’ve started burning bright enough to outshine the spotlight over ver head. Vee tried not to move too much, either, even though vee wanted more than anything to experiment a little more with ver new, minky parts, for fear that it might somehow disrupt the spell. Every little movement vee made had a little bit of resistance to it, anyway, like the parts of ver body that had been changed were squished between blocks of memory foam on all sides.
The ring continued to float higher and higher, bringing that warm, swaddled-in-blankets feeling to more and more of Bowsie’s body. At points, it seemed to get stuck on ver new shape—or maybe stuck on itself? It was hard to tell… When it reached ver thighs, it seemed almost as though ver new pillowy outside was spilling out of the hoop, like a comforter being pulled out of the bag that it came vacuum-sealed in. Vee wondered whether vee’d have difficulty fitting into certain places like this—doorframes, maybe even hallways… Vee reached down to touch some of the short fur covering ver legs, now that it was close enough to reach without having to bend over fully. It was velvety to the touch, and it gave way under ver claws the same way that a particularly soft mattress might.
As it slid over ver hips and past the base of ver tail, it unwound from around ver legs, no longer held tightly against verself for the sake of keeping it inside the hoop. Vee caught a glimpse of it at ver feet and could no longer hold still, whipping it up toward their face. It didn’t move exactly as vee directed it—it was still up in front of ver face, but much more slowly and deliberately, nothing at all like the excited vigor vee had put behind it. Maybe vee just wasn’t used to a body made of cloth and stuffing? Vee imagined that a body like that would be a bit more sluggish… It brushed against ver nose like a feather duster, though vee tried to hold it steady. Maybe it was just so floppy that it was hard to control.
Stranger still was the way that vee seemed to be higher up off the ground! No longer holding back from examining ver new body, vee saw that ver lower half was now much longer than ver upper half. It was such an odd sensation; vee could still feel ver paws squishing against the floor, could still feel ver new fabric stretching along ver legs, but vee knew they weren’t that long before. Vee thought that Thorn wasn’t allowed to do transformation magic! Even as the one having the magic done on ver, vee couldn’t figure out what else it could possibly be! The ring kept on creeping upwards, with a pillowy, striped tummy spilling out from inside it, stretching the serpent’s body out longer and longer as vee adjusted to the weight. It wasn’t that much heavier—Bowsie was a stout little dragon before—but it sat differently on ver body, was springier as vee shifted around. When it crept up to ver shoulders, it wrapped around ver arms, leaving massive, cushiony hanging at the ends of ver wrists where ver claws just were. Again, vee tried immediately to get a closer look, and again, they moved in a way that wasn’t quite how vee intended, slower, not exactly the right position.
Vee began to wonder if it was really as simple as needing to adjust to a new body, but before vee could think too deeply about it, the ring zipped the rest of the way up past ver head, leaving the button-eyed, fluffy-cheeked face of a chipper tiger girl in its wake.
“Oh my goodness!” plushie cried in a voice that didn’t belong to the dragon. For an instant, Bowsie thought vee had blurted out its thoughts in an excited outburst. There was something stilted—rehearsed—about the voice, though, and the tiger kept right on speaking without ver: “You turned me into Lyra! Incredible!”
As Thorn took another deep bow, gesturing proudly at the result of his magic, Bowsie wondered: who on earth is Lyra? That certainly hadn’t come from ver. As if on cue, ver arms began to move of their own accord. Lyra waved shyly at the audience, even curtsying as they applauded for Thorn’s trick. As far as they knew, he had finally casted a spell in public where something hadn’t gone horribly wrong, but something was definitely awry here!
“Thank you, thank you!” the cat flaunted, keeping the audience on the hook for what he planned next. “And Lyra, thank you again for showing up on such short notice!” He added, with a wink.
“It iiiis a pleasure to be here, Thorn!” She replied, a bit stiffly.
“Now, we’re almost done hoggin’ the stage, folks. All we gotta do is—” Lyra interrupted him with an eep! Beneath the zipper that ran along the front of her body, Bowsie was trying to figure out just what was going on here. The tiger’s arms wobbled as Bowsie strained vers beneath her fuzzy exterior; she felt wriggling in her stomach as the serpent struggled and felt around inside her. She glanced down at herself, then her eyes—flickering through the whole range of emotion from confusion to mortification to accusation—turned to Thorn, shooting daggers at him. For his part, his eyes zipped from her torso, to the audience, back to her, his showmanly smile straining to remain on his face.
“Ahem! All we gotta do is say thank you one more time and get outta your hair!” He said, tugging Lyra’s paw towards the wings of the stage and ushering her quickly along. Her arms wrapped around her tummy (at least as best as she could manage the gesture), trying to hide the serpent’s movements inside her. “You’ve been a wonderful crowd we hope to see you at the next talent showeverybodyhaveagoodnight!”
“Thorn!” hissed Lyra as the two (three) of them slipped into the dressing room backstage. “Would you like to explain what this is?!” She unzipped herself, allowing Bowsie’s head to pop out of her chest. Vee suddenly felt shorter again, still higher up than usual but this time because ver were being held up, and not because ver legs were suddenly longer. Vee looked out at Thorn, then craned ver neck to look up at Lyra, whose face looked just as apologetic as she glanced upside-down at ver.
“Um, hello.”
“Hi,” Thorn awkwardly replied.
“I said I’d be your assistant cause I’m trying to work through my whole thing with crowds, and you pack me in front of a packed house?”
“Not on purpose!” the catboy protested. “The ring was supposed to switch your places! Teleportation magic, remember?”
“Yeah, and instead, it just transported me around… who even is this?”
“Bowsie!” chirped Thorn, eager to change the subject.
“Bowsie,” mumbled the serpent at the same time, musing that this was one of the strangest introductions vee’d ever taken part in.
“You two know each other?” Lyra asked.
“Nope!”
“No.”
“So were you just gonna… send this person to your room? Who you’ve never met?”
“Well, the plan was to switch the two of you around again right after, right? I just picked someone who looked, uh… harmless? Polite! Just, who didn’t look like trouble, so nothing would happen in there in the thirty seconds you’d be on stage for.”
“Well, that didn’t exactly work, did it? You still haven’t answered for embarrassing me like that!” “Uh, I’m still not really sure what happened? It should’ve just been a portable portal, but…” Thorn fished around in the pockets of his puffy little shorts and pulled out a roll of parchment, unfurling and squinting at it. “Yeah… yeah… no, I think I got most of it right? Just, hang on…” As he continued to pore over his notes, Lyra pressed her paws into her own face.
“Every time, dude. It’s unbelievable.” She looked down at her little passenger and sighed. “So, um. Bowsie, right?”
“Mhm?”
“I think you heard already, but, I’m Lyra.”
“A pleasure.”
“Likewise! Um, did you at least enjoy your time on stage?”
“Oh, I’m not much of a performer…”
“Well, that makes two of us, ahaha…”
“I, uh, apologize for making it more difficult.”
“Oh! No, it’s not your fault, really! You haven’t caused any trouble in there or anything, it’s just,” she began, gently wringing her paws. “This is usually a more… intimate? Arrangement?”
“Ah,” replied the serpent, ver cheeks beginning to warm again.
“It’s just a bit embarrassing. It feels like a public display of affection, and in front of all those people, y’know…”
“Well… it was fun! You’re very comfortable.”
“Uh, thank you?” Lyra accepted the compliment rather bashfully. “You’ve been a nice… guest?” Bowsie smiled up at her, and she smiled in turn.
“I felt much taller while you were zipped up, you know. It was a bit like balancing on a wobbly chair, except the legs are a part of you? It was definitely odd to get used to, even if we didn’t have much time for it.”
“Yeah, that has something to do with the way Thorn set up my zipper and lining to begin with? I got curious and dug through some of his textbooks, and I twisted his arm about it ‘til we figured out what exactly the spell was like. The easiest way he could think of to give me an interior while keeping me the same size was to… ‘add space’, so to speak? That’s the simplest way to describe it. The flip side of it is that anything that goes in occupies the same amount of space as me, too.”
“It was fun! It really made me think he was transforming me, haha. Why, um, were people so worried about Thorn casting transformation magic, exactly?”
“You don’t want to know,” she said bluntly, averting her gaze. She rubbed her face again, as if trying to wipe the image away from her mind’s eye.
“...I see. Well, it was still exciting to think about.”
“Sorry to let you down, then. We weren’t planning on doing anything to you other than moving you around a little. I didn’t even realize what was going on until you started moving around in there, which—” she cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice from cracking. “—That was really a surprise.”
“At least you kept your composure. I thought you were speaking clearly, at least. I didn’t have to say much at all.”
“Well… thank you. I guess it wouldn’t be public speaking without a distraction, right? I’m trying to get better at it. I’ve had, ah, some bad experiences with speaking in front of a class.”
“That gets a bit easier,” vee encouraged her. “I wasn’t too happy that so many classes assigned oral presentations for their final projects, but after a couple of years of studying here, I feel I’ve improved at least enough to do it when I have to. Just keep practicing!”
“Are you a sophomore? Junior?”
“A junior. Yourself?”
“I don’t exactly study here, um, officially. But I’ve been with Thorn about a year and a half, I think? I want to call him a dependable roommate, but this sort of thing…” She cast a withering look in the cat’s direction—he flashed her a thumbs up and a reassuring smile. “...Well, it happens way too often.”
“I take it he hasn’t taken many courses on applied magic?”
“Oh, he’s tried.”
“Hey, be nice!” he called over his sheet.
“What about you, Bowsie?”
“Oh, I’m majoring in Practical Enchantments! What I’m really passionate about is designing clothes—I realized how interesting fashion was partway through my sophomore year and switched—and I want to try to push the limits of what materials can be worked with, and what they can do!”
“Ooooh!! That’s fascinating, goodness! I mean, you might be able to tell, but,” she gestured broadly up and down at herself, “That’s a field with some personal relevance, haha.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to intrude, but—”
“…Oh,” Thorn finally piped up again. “Well, okay, that’d do it.”
“What?” Lyra asked, exasperatedly.
“It’s, uh, a perfectly functional portal, but I forgot to… make it two-way?” The cat smiled sheepishly at her.
“So we’re just lucky your last mistake gave me a hollow inside.”
“Yeah, I guess so! Otherwise I might’ve gotten myself banned from a different type of spell entirely, ahaha… It, uh, it would’ve been hard to get all your stuffing clean.”
“Huh?!” The serpent squeaked, suddenly much less comfortable in the plushie’s soft interior.
“Oh, uh. Do you want out of there?” the tiger asked. Vee nodded emphatically. Lyra unzipped herself the rest of the way and held out a paw for the dragon to hold as vee hopped out of her chest, turning away from Thorn and now-intimately-familiar stranger to zip herself up. “Sorry about all this, by the way.”
“Well, it was no trouble. Luckily, I suppose,” vee added.
“Right! All’s well that ends well, right?” Thorn bombasted, moving the subject along. “Bolt dodged!”
“Yeah, and I didn’t have to scramble around to bail you out, this time,” retorted Lyra, an unimpressed look on her face.
“Oh, speaking of things I need you to do—”
“Thorn.”
“—did you happen to grab the key to my room?”
“Agghh,” she grunted, knowing where this was heading. “No!”
“Right, which is a problem, ‘cause you like to lock the door, and—”
“And you forgot it when you left?” She exclaimed. Thorn nodded, still doing kitty-cat eyes above his please-don’t-be-too-mad smile.
“I expected you to still be in there, so…”
“Unbelievable.”
“Well, hey, uh… While we wait for the housemistress to come by with a master key, we cooouuuld… watch the rest of the show?” He shrugged, putting on his best play at being disarmingly cute. Lyra was a little too used to it at this point for it to work. “How about you, Bowsie? You feel like joining us?”
“Um. Are the other acts going to go anything like this?”
“I sure hope not.”
This one was a bit of a format experiment—me and a friend (who would like to remain anonymous) were shooting for an "illustrated storybook" style here, and played around with thumbnails as a means of outlining a written story. The more I write with Lyra and Thorn the more I feel like an episodic structure would suit them well, so a series of short, fun books might be the direction I take with them. I hope you enjoyed it!! If you did, please check out my commissions sheet! This was partially driven by requests from my friend, who wanted to interact with my OCs; I'd be happy to work with you as well! =^w^=
Here's a bittersweet short story of a foxy phone girl who wants to tell her owner how much he means to her but is stopped by his permissions every time.
im falling for marketing... shes so cute...
A “draw this in your style” thingy for Xexeezy on Twitter! 🐝
The first rule of blacksmithing is "don't fuck the little giant power hammer". Yes, everyone wants to. Yes, everyone knows that it looks and behaves exactly like you would expect a giant cast-iron robot girl from the 1910's who was explicitly built to fuck you to death would look like. Yes, it is indeed the single most fuckable piece of industrial equipment ever manufactured. But you absolutely cannot fuck it.
Ah, This reminds me of this kinky short story by Vacheee on Furaffinity. https://www.furaffinity.net/view/41187572/
The premise is that you are presented with multiple transformation options with vague descriptors and well, the last transformation if you refuse to choose one is to be a polish dispenser for a enthusiastic pack of latex fox drones. I quite liked it.
soap dispenser doll
the thing stays perfectly Still despite everything, but you know better.
you open up the porcelain like the cover of a book and read the gears inside. you’ve worked the source material, tempered it, conditioned it. you can see its eyes saccading momentarily each time you enter the bathroom, hear the tick-tock of its escapement speed up a fraction of a second. but that’s fine. you were not building a timepiece.
in the morning, you put the toothbrush back in and reach out with the palm of your hand, feigning distraction. almost as you touch its neck, you pull back and shoot a quick glance at it to see its eyelids flutter in blissful anticipation, then Stillness again. you can almost hear the dismay in the clockwork.
stupid needy bitch.
come afternoon, you saunter in buck naked, radiating the chutzpah of a winner, sit up on the washing machine, prop yourself up and hum.
“what a day, huh?”
the dispenser stays Still, looks straight forward, never moving.
“that was someone from work I took out. to dinner, that is. we really hit it off these last few hours, but you’ve heard.”
tick. eyes forward. tock.
“I wonder if you recognized the voice. but probably not. name’s Zoe, maybe that sound familiar?”
and there it is. a tiny hitch in the rhythm, a perfect mechanism straying from its conductor.
“I’m probably calling for the wrong kind of memory. here, maybe this jogs your gears.”
you raise your right hand, still slick and sticky, and clamp it over the doll’s mouth, part its sculpted lips, give it a good whiff of the scent.
it doesn’t turn to look at you, never recoils, never visibly reacts, but you can feel the delightful horror as you feed on the delicacy of its despair.
“right. but back I go, it’s rude to keep a lady waiting. just, uh, almost forgot why I came here!”
you lunge like a cat, give its neck a good squeeze and clamp down for a few seconds, and the thing definitely does not see it coming. its clockwork speeds up, crests an invisible hill, then plummets down and slows and slows, falling towards a forever kind of Stillness.
as the tempo reaches a dangerous adagio, you grab it between its legs and squeeze like you’re milking a stone. its gears seize, and for a hot second you fear you might have broken another toy; and something inside it skips and grinds, and it explodes in a delightful overclocked staccato. the body of the doll almost topples over as the conditioning kicks in and it rights itself, unthinking.
all while you wash your hands with a pathetically tiny dollop of lavender-scented lotion, humming a discordant non-tune to yourself, completely out of its rhythm. rub a little soap in the wound.
“appreciate it, love. see you tomorrow. or maybe not. might sleep over tonight.”
as you leave and receding aftershocks squeeze the last drops of pleasure chemicals out of its thinking substrate, you swear you can see it shudder. ∎