Princess Grace's Castle

A Virus Girl's Domain

Our hero-

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.”


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#capekink #costumes #Modemoiselle #nothorny #superheroes #supervillainy

“Hey, kid!”

“Wanna tail?”

“First one's free!”

Two identical maids alternate calls to passers-by, grabbing and twirling around what was a phone booth* in a previous life. Now it's more like a nine foot tall metal gazebo** that shot up through the sidewalk like a tree. The pair grab the sides and twirl around it, shouting their message to all who walk by.

“I don't get it, 12, what are we doing wrong?” One of them sighs and lets the booth prop her up. “Is my bow on straight?”

“We're both adorable.” 12 blows her pink streak out of her eye and makes sure her ribbon collar proudly displays her number. “What kind of city is this where people won't give two maids standing next to a transformation booth the time of day?”

“Maybe they think it'll turn them into a maid.”

“It will, though.”

“Sure, but it doesn't have to turn them into one of us.”

“I dare you to find a button on that control panel that doesn't say 'maid' or 'butler'.”

“Just get in the box, I'll show you.”

“It's more like a cylinder or an octagon.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell me how it looks inside.” 14 gives 12 a nudge, and the big metal door slams shut behind her. This sort of thing needs a little drama to it.

Fourteen clears her throat. Each side of the gazebo is a screen that flickers to life, showcasing the other maid's predicament to the world. “Come one, come all! See the life that could await YOU with just a step into Modemoiselle's Patented Life-Affirming Chamber of Wonders!”

“It's not a carnival ride, it's a-”

“An experience of a lifetime! Try on your fursona! Adjust your bust! Still using that boring old gender your mom got you? The sky's the limit!” With the trademark razzle-dazzle you'd expect from one of Modemoiselle's hypemaids, she smashes her hand across the control panel.

The machine whirs to life. The telltale pressurized hiss of hypnogas venting into the chamber is amplified and replayed onto the street. Twelve's black gloved hand balls into a fist, going limp before it can even contact the door once. Her eyes go from brown to red and quickly to shimmering, swirling pink.

A crowd is gathering outside. Onlookers range from morbidly curious to asking Fourteen how to get their turn. Questions get a wink, a blown kiss, and maybe a front-row seat to the next time she twirls.

Speakers inside the booth interfere with each other to create inescapable webs of mind-soupifying siren song. Her eyes roll back into her head just in time to reveal the whites giving way to shifting pink spirals, pierced by veiny green circuit traces.

“How do you get their eyes to do that? Is there a chemical change going on or projectors or what?” A curious twink asks.

“It's simple.” Fourteen slaps the side of the changing booth like she's selling a car. “Miss Modemoiselle's classified cocktail both temporarily scrambles a subject's mental state and their cellular structure. Normally, this has to be done in moderation, but in the controlled environment of the changing booth, we can have a lot more fun. For example!” She twirls on her heel, smashes a few buttons, and throws one of the big Frankenstein-ass switches.

Black and pink latex drips from the ceiling. Twelve's swirling eyes vanish under twin pink eyehole screens. What's playing at the Gas Mask Duoplex? The nice spirals it's currently drilling into her skull with pictures of what a good skunkdrone she'll be and all the good words to have burned into your brain and how very, very erotic this whole experience is for a good girl like yourself. The vents on the front force gas out of the air and up your nose and throat, juuust to make sure you weren't cheating by holding your breath or something. That would be a bad girl thing to do, after all.

What used to be a modest pink streak in a head of blonde hair now takes up the entire front right quadrant. It's currently the last part of Twelve's head not hidden behind a bubbling latex gas mask. Cables snake from hidden corners and find well-worn places to jack in. Twelve was no stranger to having her genes hacked- no Murdermaid was- which should tell you how good it feels when she drops to her knees and starts drooling and moaning with bliss. Pink and green crackling electricity surge up the cables, across the mask, and into Twelve. A bulge pushes at the back of her maid dress. It's rising. Growing. And, finally, a big ol' skunk tail bounces into place. Pink stripe down the middle, splitting impossibly soft black fur. She gives it a few experimental swishes before tucking it between her legs and mindlessly humping away. Eyes rolled up into her head and drool dripping down her formerly immaculate outfit. Good girls don't get to finish without permission, of course, but it feels good to grind. It feels so good.

Pleasure is all that matters. Flashed the screen inches from her eyes. Pleasure is bliss, bliss is pleasure, Modemoiselle is bliss.

“How do you feel?” Fourteen smugly leans against the outside of the Changing Booth, arms crossed and microphone in hand. Her voice echoes out into the street and directly into Twelve's head.

“However you want me to feel~” Twelve moans.

Good girl. You feel good.”

Pleasure, the mask reminded.

“I figured that one out alreadyyyyy~” Ooh, someone found the sweet spot on the tail. She's panting and moaning up a storm.

“And you're going to feel like standing up and giving the tail a break.”

Twelve dutifully rises to her booted feet, swishing her tail in an effort to try and squeeze just a little stimulation out of this whole situation.

“And you're going to be very friendly to all the nice people. Your usual maidly self. Nice, smart, kind of a tightass sometimes, and dispenses kisses to cute girls in maid outfits. But your tail is going to have a mind of its own. It's Miss Modemoiselle's tail you're wearing, after all, and you're so pent up with musk.”

“So pent uuuuh~p.” Twelve repeated. Tail swishing impatiently.

“So pent up. Good girls wait until they're called. Brain off.” Fourteen snaps her fingers, and Twelve's pink, swirling eyes roll back into her head.

The eyescreens turn to static. A few drops of drool roll down her chin.

Off.

“As you can see, my lovely volunteer is having the time of her life, is experiencing bold new things, and has a body she loves!” Fourteen “accidentally” leans against one of the sliders, and Twelve's front bulge arcs with electricity as it doubles in size. “The spiral projectors targeting her eyes ensure the experience is a blissful one, and is simply a more focused version of the one shining into your eyes right now. Same with the speakers. Now, everyone give a round of applause to our guest of honor, Murdermaid Twelve!”

Twelve hears her name and jerks awake. The inch-thick steel door slides out of the way, spilling thick pink hypnomusk onto the sidewalk. She steps into the crowd, tail swishing hungrily, just waiting for a victim. Everyone steps away. “Jeez, what'd you do? This place was a ghost town before.”

Fourteen, smiling like a catgirl who caught the maid in the transformation booth, stands next to her friend and leans on her shoulder. She reaches down and takes a nice handful of freshly grown 12 cock. “Oh, just gave the people a little taste. How's things?”

“I feel like there's something you're not telling me.” Twelve looks around. She's cute when she's confused. So is Fourteen. Well, less confused and more surprised by the big black and pink fluffy tail currently enveloping her head and smothering her brain with musk. The poor thing's eyes roll back in her head even quicker than her test subject's. She goes limp, letting her chin rest in the tail. She drops the microphone, sending a sharp squeal over the crowd.

Try and put yourself in Twelve's shoes. They're very cute and well-polished, like the rest of you. You're only vaguely aware you have an evil hypnoskunk tail coming out of your backside, the only person who did know what's happening is currently having their brain melted by you, and the microphone that controls the mind-jacking speakers aimed at the crowd just rolled against your foot. The hypnoscreens in front of you are your only way of seeing the world, and they helpfully point out the microphone and you could use it to make these people help you feel good. Bliss is pleasure. Modemoiselle is pleasure. Modemoiselle is obedience.

Oh, and then your maid friend lunges at you and kisses a bunch of pure Modemoiselle musk into your mouth and strokes your hair and calls you a good girl until your hair is a mess and your mind has kinda been dissolved in musk and you just wanna kiss girls and do crimes and you know just how to do both of them.

The tail coils around both maids. They both hold the microphone, and they speak in unison. “We're gonna turn the machine all the way up and start making out in there and see what happens. Anyone who wants to join us is guaranteed a job afterwards~” A few tailswishes disperse the mind-fogging musk over the crowd. About a dozen people, ranging from the curious twink from earlier to people who, frankly, never stood a chance against something like this.

The booth doors slide open.

And close.

The screens flicker off, the speakers click quiet, and yet, anyone outside can hear the faint sounds of getting your brain fucked silly by the biggest cock you've ever seen while you're high on brain-sizzling hypnomusk and having your genes hacked by a supervillain.


“Miss, booth L is down again.”

“Twelve and Fourteen?”

“How'd you guess?”

“They do this every time I put them together. They go off script, start a huge orgy in the booth, forget everything in an orgasmic haze, and repeat.”

“So, how long does this, uh.”

“If you hurry, you can make it before they find the pleasure-linked hive mind button. Take the subway, the roads get backed up after the musk leak.”


* for the younguns, imagine a big smart phone you stand inside and try not to catch diseases from.

** https://www.netfunny.com/rhf/jokes/98/Jul/gazebo.html

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#exhibitionism #gasmask #hypnogas #hypnosis #latex #maids #masshypnosis #masturbation #Modemoiselle #Murdermaids #musk #skunkgirl #syringes #transformation

Grace, but she's a trifle. Her body is made of layers of jello and fruit and sponge cake, and there's a swirl of whipped cream on top of her head. She's holding a spoon and sticking her tongue out, as if daring you to eat her. You coward.

Art by @Cavitees

You come home from work and throw your bag onto the couch. “Princess, is there still dinner left over?”

“I thought we'd skip straight to dessert tonight~” Grace calls. You follow the intoxicating scent of fruit and whipped cream into the kitchen.

In there sits, not just your girlfriend/hypnodomme, but your girlfriend/hypnodomme/dessert holding a spoon as big as she is.

You have questions. She puts her toe in your mouth and lets you bite it off.

She pokes her tongue out, knowing that'll shut you up for a while. “First bite's free.” She teases. Your pupils shrink. Your mouth waters. Near-orgasmic bliss washes all over your body through your mouth. You pant.

You always find it hard to look away from Grace, but this is something else. You need her. You need her so bad you barely notice the jelly sticking to your brain and gumming up the works. She notices your mouth watering and her mouth curls into a smile.

“You're lucky you're cute.”

You almost don't notice your feet growing to match Grace's or some of her thoughts swirling around your head.

“Good girls wash the dishes.” She taps the side of the sink with her spoon. You swallow and open the dishwasher.

Princess slaps it closed. “By hand.” You nod. She pokes one of her spongy ankles into your mouth. You scrub the plates and sink into orgasmic bliss.

When the dishes are washed, you've been fed both of her legs. You're wearing Grace's long striped socks and her heavy boots.

As a reward, she lets you eat her sweet, sweet bulge, and you feel the real deal pressing against your new skirt.

Your thoughts roll slowly through your head. Your drool dribbles onto the ground, because Princess Grace tastes so good it's rewiring your brain.

One of your hands is now permanently busy stroking your new cock and pushing pleasure into your brain. “Good girls can't cum until they finish~”

Your stomach shrinks into Grace's' toned midriff. Your chest expands to match her breasts and then some.

She tickles your tongue with her fingers until you eat those, too, and are rewarded with the same circuit traces she paints on her fingers. Her power glove binds with your body and connects with your pastry-caked brain. Your thighs clench and glow.

Your brain's being rewired and absorbed by Princess Grace, and all you can do is drool and dribble.

You kiss her head, and before you know it, your eyes combine into that green blue swirl. Your hair curls into a brilliant blonde. Grace curls your hands into a fist.

You're still there, but she's in charge. You feel the kind of bliss you only get when Princess has taken complete control of your body and made it hers.

“Let's go break this in.” Princess swivels her new hips and walks you to the bedroom to see how much pleasure it takes to make the subby voice in her head overload with bliss.

Alternate version

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#food #Grace #possession #transformation #twinning #vore

Grace, but she's a trifle. Her body is made of layers of jello and fruit and sponge cake, and there's a swirl of whipped cream on top of her head. She's holding a spoon and sticking her tongue out, as if daring you to eat her. You coward.

Art by @Cavitees

You come home from work and throw your bag onto the couch. “Princess, is there still dinner left over?”

“I thought we'd skip straight to dessert tonight~” Grace calls. You follow the intoxicating scent of fruit and whipped cream into the kitchen.

As soon as you cross the threshold, Grace whips a dollop of hand-whipped cream at you. It smears across your eyes and turns them a seductive, delicious pink.

“Princess!” You scoff. “What the h-” You feel it sinking into your face. You feel... looser. More gelatinous.

Your brain even easier for Princess to sculpt.

She opens the oven and pulls out a golden brown, baked to perfection copy of her hair. There's even a jelly streak over one eye. Princess places it on your head and tops it with a healthy dollop of whipped cream.

“You're a good little trifle twin.” She teases. “Demanding, domineering, and teasing to a tee.” Her words stick in your semisolid brain. Your tongue pokes out of your mouth. “But it only takes a nibble to send you spiraling back to submission.”

She bites off a bit of your nose and promptly replaces it. Your eyes roll back in your head from bliss. “Yes, Princess~” You moan. You stain the front of your pants with whipped cream.

You refuse to strip, but you find it hard to talk back when she eats your tongue. “Good girls can't talk back~” The dommy part of your brain wants to cross your arms and stomp your foot.

The part of your brain melting with pleasure takes your clothes off and watches layers of jelly and cake replace your body.

“About time.” You say when she attaches your big, cream-filled dick. Just an inch or two shy of her own, of course.

She wipes some of the pre-cream off the tip and spreads it on your tongue. You look cute when your brain goes all wild with pleasure and you have to clench your big, jiggly thighs~

Before long, you can barely remember your silly old flesh body, and you're over the moon with how much you love being Grace's trifle twin. Especially when she makes you wear the maid outfit and serve snacks to her friends. <3

Alternate version

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#food #Grace #transformation #twinning

There you are, killing time at the mall. Working on your smoothie when the siren blips and beeps of an arcade fall on your ears. You turn towards the sound of quarters falling against metal. The neon sign invites you in.

THE VIPER PIT

The proprietrix, a girl perpetually stuck in the 90s named Quarter Viper, leans against her favorite Virtua Blaster 3 cabinet. “So!” She smiles. “What's your poison?” She kicks off the cabinet, grinds along the prize counter, and launches into a perfect orbit around you.

The prize counter has the usual arcade trappings. Candy. Combs. Lava lamps. A motorcycle that's physically impossible to collect enough tickets for. The Viper Pit's pride and joy, however, is its cosplay selection. Rows of wigs and costumes from skimpy to modest all wait for you.

Viper's already taken your hand and led you to one of the machines. Have you ever heard of Dragon Adventure 3: The Flappening? You have now! Viper plunks a quarter in the machine for you. “First game's free!” She bounces.

Your fingers work the buttons and the joystick. The little green dragon on screen obediently flaps its wings and breathes its fire. As you play, you swear the graphics get better, from simple pixels to clumsy 3D and beyond.

You drop in quarter after quarter. The buttons slowly vanish from your consciousness. The machine spits out ribbons of tickets. Viper helpfully trades them in for you. Big, green stompy dragon boots. A soft golden chest surrounded by hard emerald scales.

At some point, you ran out of quarters and started plunking bits of yourself into the machine. You didn't really need all those memories. What matters is getting enough tickets to finish your dragon costume. Humans other than Miss Viper are so boring.

Eventually, your sharp claws release the joystick. You rescued the princess and beat the game. Viper dunks the final piece- a dragon head- over your boring human one. The screen turns off, and you see a mighty dragon reflected back.

Gorgeous golden eyes. A powerful emerald body. Strong, double jump-ready wings. A tail that swishes and curls at your command. And all it cost was a little humanity. You're a much better dragon anyways. Perfect for hoarding treasure and giving Viper rides. Game over!

EPILOGUE: Quarter Viper would later go on to become Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

Quarter Viper dressed in Supreme Court judicial robes and just kinda playing her nintendo DS

gguy123/whatdoIdohere

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#costumes #dragons #hypnosis #QuarterViper #transformation #videogames #you

There's a girl at the bus stop when you get there. She scoots over to make room on the bench without looking at you.

She's flicking a shiny steel lighter open and closed. Sometimes she'll twirl it around her ring or toss it to herself before summoning the flame.

It's a delightful orange flame, framed by thin blue licks. You only get to look at it for a second at most before she snaps it shut.

She looks at you. You look away. She goes back to her lighter. “You can look if you want.” She says, watching the lighter flip between her fingers.

She lets the flame stand for a few moments. There's an engraving of a hollow heart with circuit traces extending around the lighter's body. “It's nice to watch the flame flicker.” You can barely see her green lips in the light smile before she snaps it shut again.

“You gotta be careful, though.” She swipes her finger through the flame. Smoke rises up. “Watch the flame like this too long, you can fall under its spell.” It dances in the wind. Every time she closes it, you wince. Like your brain froze and had to restart.

You hear the bus turn a corner a few blocks away. “It feels warm, doesn't it? A flickering flame in your brain, washing all down your body. Every breath warmer and better than the last.” You see the corners of her smile. “But when the flame goes out, your brain turns-” Click.

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#fire #Grace #hypnosis

Princess pats your padded butt and makes sure your layers of frills and lace are in place. She paints a pair of pink hearts on your cheeks and makes sure your lips match. She clicks the padlocks into place on your corset, high heels, and the long pink wig cascading to your butt.

She tugs your big fairy princess wings into place and gives you one more big hug. “Okay, dear. Your fairy princess wand here has just enough money for bus fare and to pay the locksmith to take two of your locks off.”

“But I have three locks, Princess!”

“Guess you'll have to pick one to keep or find some other way to pay. And because good girls don't talk back...” She pokes your nose. “Programming mode on. Whenever someone says the word 'wish', you will be the Kiss Fairy for five minutes.”

“You will become giggly, perky, introduce yourself to everyone around, and tell them that you'll give anyone a kiss wherever they want! Programming complete. Compile and install.”

Your eyes flutter. Big smile for the Kiss Fairy you don't know is in your head yet!

Princess gives you a kiss on the forehead and nudges you towards the door. “Better hurry. The locksmith is all the way across town and you only have a few hours. Remember, there's plenty of people watching online, so you can ask them for help if you get in trouble. Have fun!”

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#exhibitionism #frillyoutfits #Grace #humiliation #realityplay #triggers

You slide your glasses up your nose and tuck a loose strand of hair back into your tight bun. You stick your head out your office door and say “Miss Grace, I'll see you when you're ready.” The blonde folds up her magazine and follows you in.

She sits on the couch and you in your office chair. “Do you remember where we were last time?” You don't look down at your notes. You already know.

“Isn't it your job to remember?” She crosses one leg over the other. “It's been like a month. I got stuff going on.”

“We were going to try a different kind of therapy. How does that sound?”

“Sure. Hook me up.” Grace is more interested in her fingernails than you.

“Are you familiar with hypnosis?”

“You could say that.” She smiles.

“Would you be willing to try it?”

“I could be convinced.”

You produce a opalescent crystal on a long chain. “Get comfortable, please, and look here.”

You sway the crystal. Grace watches it politely. “Pretty.”

“Very.” You agree. “Just watch it swing back and forth for me.”

“Back and forth?”

“Back and forth.”

“You're good at watching it.” Grace teases.

“Don't make jokes. This is for your own good.”

“You are, though. I bet you're already letting your thoughts go dim. Your eyes are getting heavy. You're nice and safe with me.”

“Miss Grace, please-”

“Please Miss Grace.” She corrects

“Please Miss Grace.” You repeat. You watch.

She nods. “I love watching you fall back under my spell.”

“Under your spell.”

“Sleep.” Snap!

Your eyes fall shut. You collapse on her. She whispers into your ear. “Good girl.” You hear. You like those words.

Snap! “Princess wants you up.”

You hold your clipboard in your big, clumsy kitty paws and make sure your pointy ears are on straight. “Nyexcellent session this week, Miss Grace. Same time next month.”

“Looking forward to it.” She bats the big silver bell on your collar.

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#catgirl #Grace #hypnosis #you

Look at you. You come back from a long day of plundering ancient tombs. Your purse heavy with gold and jewels. The scent of adventurer-grade magic items wafting off your body. And, of course, the best thing to throw money at is the local tavern.

Where, of course, a piece of local color stands on stage and performs to keep the patrons drinking. “Hii, everyone! My name's Sunny, and I hear we have some special guests today. Big, fancy adventurers from out of town. Good thing I've got a special show!”

She hoists her triangle into the air and bangs the wand against the inside. Your adventuring buddies laugh at the gnome playing her heart out on stage, but you two make eye contact. The silvered tones ring true in your ears.

Before long, the whole world melts away except for her flaming locks and her tender blue eyes. Her enchanting song fills your head. You start to droop and go limp. A big, dopey smile spreads across your face. The last thing you hear is “Thank you all! What a wonderful audience!”

You wake up the next morning in bed with your favorite gnome. Sunny curls a lock of your hair around her finger. “Good boy.” She kisses your cheek. It glows an ember warmth the rest of the day. “I'll help myself to your coin purse on the way out, 'kay?”

The rest of your party tells you how much fun it was last night. How you looked so cute kissing that gnome's feet on stage. How you, Big Shot Adventurer, batted at a big ball of yarn when she put your cat ears on. And, of course, how cute you are in your new outfit!

Art by Lunakiri

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#catgirl #exhibitionism #music #stagehypnosis #you

Look at you. Coming home from a long day at work. You in your horn-rimmed glasses, big old sweater, and your ankle-length skirt. All you want to do is sit down in front of the TV, spread out on the couch, and play some video games.

Your system whirs to life. You don't notice the camera flickering on. Nor do you notice the whispering slipping from your headphones and into your mind. “Get comfortable.” It urges. You comply by letting your hair down. Red streaks appear what used to be a boring brown bun.

“More.” It whispers.

Your glasses are next. You can see fine without them. You toss over your shoulder.

“Is it hot in here?”

You peel your sweater off. You look down to notice the extra-short crop top that barely covers your boobs. “XxGraceSlut69xX” it proudly advertises.

The doll mode programming in your brain kicks in. You're not some frumpy nerd! You kick off your skirt to reveal something much cuter and shorter. You're GraceSlut69, the cleavage-iest streamer in town! And you better believe you're gonna show those puppies to the camera.

Your streamer persona has triggers that only work when you read them in chat. Once your viewers figure that out, don't be surprised if you spend more time masturbating, changing costumes, and having your IQ adjusted than actually playing the game.

“Okay, everyone~!” You giggle, rolling back on screen in your cheerleader outfit. “For the next half hour, every five dollars donated is a point off my IQ, but I go back to normal every time I come. And as always, I stroke every time I see or hear my princess's name!”

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#cheerleaders #costumes #exhibitionism #hypnosis #triggers