Princess Grace's Castle

A Virus Girl's Domain

#ditzification #shapeshifting #syringes #transformation

Rebecca crosses one leg over the other. She's dressed head to toe in a shiny black bodysuit studded with little round mirrored hologram projectors. She shakes her long white hair down to the small of her back. She twirls a long syringe full of yellow liquid.

“Mmm, I forget what's in this one. Let's find out.” She pokes it into her neck and lets half of it slip into her bloodstream. Pink ripples wash down her hair. Her cheeks and lips grow full. Her hologram projectors light up.

The black latex vanishes, replaced by a short white and yellow top with “BIMBO BUTT” written across her chest. A short pink pleated skirt hangs off her waist, showing plenty of simulated exposed skin. “Ooh, this is a good one. Let's see how it looks on you~”

Your hair turns a bouncy, bubblegum pink, your breasts get ever perkier, and your butt swells to match. “It's a shame the clothes don't match. At least we're twins!”

Rebecca, a girl with long hair wearing a bodysuit studded with disc-shaped hologram projectors. She's sticking her lizard tongue out.

Art by gguy123/whatdoIdohere

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#hypnosis #rave #visor

Not everyone falls into a punky witch's clutches. Some people simply hear the sound of mind-numbing bass throbbing deep into their brain stem. There you are, innocently strolling outside Ravequeen Liz's warehouse, when the air twists and boils beneath her boosted bass.

Like a snake charmed by a flute, you're drawn through the door. A blast of hot, sweaty air blows your hair back. A fine pink mist follows close behind. Even one breath in, you can feel the music throbbing against your skin. It rattles your brain and strokes between your thighs.

You dance into the writhing crowd of latex-clad bodies. They peel your clothes off so they can rub themselves against you. Neon-colored tops and fishnet bottoms stroke against your exposed flesh. Each throb of the beat connects you more and more to perfect pleasure.

Thoughts pour into your head. The music scatters silly little thoughts like “where are my clothes” and “this hypnorave doesn't have a fire exit” to the wind. New ones pour in from the pulsing, throbbing, perfect hive mind. Much better ideas, like “I should put my mouth on this.”

Before long, a pink visor sits on your face, burning spirals into your eyes and images of the perfect raveslut into your brain. Tight, revealing clothing. Always bumping and grinding. And, of course, fanatical allegiance to the electric blue goddess pulling your

Art by gguy123/whatdoIdohere

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#costumes #doll #Grace #housewife #hypnosis

It was your turn to do the dishes, but you didn't. Grace turns off the TV in the middle of your show. When you turn around to complain, you come face to face with her crystal. Your words catch in your throat while she talks. “Am I the maid here?”

“N-no, Princess.” You choke.

“That's right, dear. Who's supposed to do the dishes?”

“I am, Princess.”

“And who is responsible for keeping this house clean?”

“I am, Princess.” Princess smacks your hands away from your cock. You know you don't get to touch without permission.

“And what happens when my little slut doesn't clean up?”

“Slut's brain turns off, Princess.” You clench your thighs together.

“That's right, dear. Three. Two. One. Brain off.” Snap. Your eyes flutters shut. You go limp.

Princess takes your hand and leads your empty body to the bedroom. “Good sluts strip.” She says, and you do. She gives you a polka-dotted dress, some high heels, and plops an elaborately styled blonde wig onto your head.

You obediently pull your stockings on and step into your high heels. You swish your petticoats around your legs. “You're a good little housewife, and you love to clean almost as much as you love your perfect Princess.” She kisses you on the lips.

Your eyes flutter open and you grab your favorite vacuum cleaner! You kiss your perfect Princess on the lips and get to cleaning. “Gosh, who let this place get so filthy? Don't worry, Princess! I'll pick it right up!”

You do this adorable thing where you kick up one leg when you kiss Princess. It's a shame you don't remember when you go back to being normal you.

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#Grace #hacking

Princess Grace plugs her laptop into the back of your neck. Your whole body stiffens and sinks into the couch. “Hmm, what do we have here~?” She teases.

“Your head's so stuffed up. Stuff scattered this way and that. How's a hacker supposed to find all your secrets?”

Her fingers fly across the keyboard. “You're lucky I got to you first, dear. Who knows what a naughty girl would do to your brain? She might give you a fetish for hacker blondes poking around in there. Or she might do something more insidious.”

“She might, oh, I don't know, start running a web server on there so anyone could poke around in your brain. They wouldn't be able to change anything, but imagine everyone you know reading all your secrets. They'd know all your fetishes.”

“Especially any new ones this gorgeous, dastardly hacker would slip in. Not that you'd know the difference. As far as you know, you've always gotten impossibly aroused when someone pokes your nose and calls you a good girl.” She unplugs the cable from your neck.

You can move around again. “Anyways, enjoy your new update!” She kisses you on the nose and goes back to work.

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#bullying #ditzification #Grace #hypnosis

Sure, you say you don't want to be bullied, but we both know you'd rather have an orgasm and a wedgie than neither.

Also, when you're hypnotized, you say all sorts of things. Things like “Thank you for bullying me, Princess! Make me lick your boot while I masturbate! Pull my hair! Break my glasses and swat my books away! Take my lunch money! I'm your nerd slut!”

A big nerd like you needs her glasses. When Princess takes them off, you lose your big, silly nerd brain and turn into a dull, slutty girl. She'll hold them above her head and watch you clutch at her chest until your eyes go dim and you start stroking.

And then she puts them back on and her big, silly nerd is all embarrassed. I'll tease you for that too, of course.

All while you moan and whine all “Thank you for making me your hypnotized nerd slut, Princess~” and she steps on you and sits on your face and you know there's no way you're getting your homework done tonight. <3

This was supposed to be one of those anti bullying after school specials where the bully becomes nice after, but I decided to split the difference by making you worship me while I wore a pink frilly lolita dress.

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#furry #hypnosis #Modemoiselle #musk #ponygirl #ShowStoppers #skunkgirl #transformation

This post is part 1 in a series of 2. The other post in this series is: Part 2

“Wakey wakey, dear~” Modemoiselle coos. “How'd you sleep?”

“Fine, thanks! I was having this dream about-” A big black tail with a pink stripe down the middle whaps against her face. If she said anything else, it turned into useless muffled shouts and blissful moaning.

“Falling under a dashing supervillainess's spell? Her big, heavy tail smothering your thoughts with impossibly soft fluff? Uselessly trying to resist her intoxicating musk?”

The raven-haired girl on the bed tried to push the tail away, but her hands simply sank inside.

“You're going to have to be more clever than that, dear. It's so soft and plush. I know for a fact it's more comfortable than this pile of straw you call a bed~” Modemoiselle pushes on the bed and listens to the springs creak. “Let yourself sink into the sweet spot.” Her tail coils around the heroine's head, enveloping it from every angle. “Just five more minutes~”

A flash of light paints every surface in the room. The heroine's human form shrunk into a black bird, furiously flapping free of the tail and blowing the thick pink musk all throughout the room. “Modemoiselle!” She cawed. “You have to get up pretty early to beat The Raveness!”

“Dear, where were you I woke you up? I hope you won't be this much of a birdbrain when I'm done with you.” Modemoiselle sighs and swishes her tail. “Empty? Sure. A puppet, dancing to my whims? Obviously. Constantly fawning over her perfect Miss Modemoiselle? Naturally. But not a dipshit. I thought you were the clever one.”

“I was clever enough to disarm that dream bomb you were about to detonate over the city! I pecked the circuit board to pieces myself!” The raven dive-bombed the supervillainess, only to be handily swatted from the air. Wasn't that tail supposed to be soft?

“Are you sure about that, dear? You didn't notice anything strange about, say, going out to dinner afterwards?”

“We sent you to prison! How did you know about that?”

“First of all, you sent me to jail. Jail is where you go to await trial. I'd only be sent to prison if I was convicted. Birdbrain. Didn't you go to law school?” She sticks her tongue out. “Try to think back, dear. This is much less fun if I have to do all the work.” She snaps her fingers.

“I had to drop out when She Who Caws gave me her blessing.” Raveness grumbles. “You don't get to choose whether you're the next Night's Own Wings.”

The end table stretches into one of the many tables on the well-worn hardwood floor. The bed vanishes when Modemoiselle takes the quilt off and swishes it into a checkered tablecloth. She catches the Raveness in a chair as she's shunted back to human form. “You had the red, if I recall.” Liquid glass pours from the ceiling into a wine glass shape. A blonde waitress with a telltale pink streak dutifully fills it with wine.

“We didn't disarm the bomb, did we?” She sighs as a lasagna plops from the sky in layers.

The world's most sarcastic game show bell rings from everywhere and nowhere. “Give the lady a prize! If you get two more right, you'll win a trip to fabulous Hawaii!”

“So the whole city is under your spell?”

“Ooh, good guess. You did, though sheer luck, manage to disable the dispersal unit and most of the sonic components. So the damage was limited to the handful of people in the clock tower. Which, lucky for me, includes all your little crimefighting friends.”

The restaurant collapses. The floors wipe from wood to glass, revealing the thick trunks of wire and tangle of machinery pulsing with power just beneath their feet. The walls push out into the darkness beyond even what the Night's Own Wings could see. The floor opens, and five pods rise into view. “See anyone you know?”

Raveness steps up to the sleek, curved-glass pods. She saw her friends- the four other members of the Merci City Victors- with their eyes closed. The digitally hypnotic tones of Modemoiselle's voice barely leaks through the glass. A steady stream of pink musk trickles into their lungs. Her fists thud harmlessly against the glass. Her raven form's beak makes a very cute little “tink!” sound.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to break the supervillain's evil machine while your friend's still in it? Not only do you not know what'll happen, she just might decide to retaliate.” Modemoiselle swishes her tail against the last pod in the row. Raveness rushes over to see herself, bombarded by the same subliminals and breathing the same hypnotic smoke.

Modemoiselle snaps her fingers. The gas turns from a thin pink wisp to thick, choking clouds. The girl in the pod clenches her thighs. A distinct wet spot develops on her suit and the other girl follows close behind. They moan in sweet, blissful unison~

The music gets louder. Raveness would almost be able to hear it through the glass if it wasn't pulsing through her head. The most vapid, bubbly pop music you could imagine. Cancelling out any sort of intelligent thought like how acids turn bases into simple, inert water. Modemoiselle's tail swishes to support her birdbrain's chin, and she happily sinks into it. Every now and again, she moans and struggles, but how do you beat an enemy that's in your brain and armed with an orgasm button? Especially one with such a lovely, soft tail. And who smells so wonderful. And who has such an amazing voice. The kind of voice you could just float on forever.

“That's better. You know, you never struck me as a bird. I always thought you'd be happier as something more... useful.” She snaps her fingers. The pod lights up with the orange glow and the telltale whir of stolen genetic technology. Raveness, of course, was far too busy emptily snuggling into the softest tail anyone's ever felt.

Raveness's body slowly slips into light again, but no feathers form. No beak pierces the light. She grows a long, dopey muzzle, the better to cuddle into Miss Modemoiselle's tail with. Her short black hair poofs and bounces into a big, healthy black bouffant with a pink swirl coiling into the middle. Pink circuitry pokes into her brown eyes and makes them big, bright, and brainwashed! Miss Modemoiselle looks so much better through pony eyes than silly human or bird ones! Golden brown fur washes over her body and seal off her hands and feet into silly, soft hooves. Much better for hugging Miss with and giving her rides! A big ol' black and pink tail with countless bouncy curls springs from the base of her spine.

“You make an awfully pretty pony, dear. I've outdone myself~” Modemoiselle coos, watching her musk empty out the rest of her newest pet's head.

“What else would I be, Miss?” She snuggles into the tail, eyelids heavy but determined to admire her Miss as much as possible. “I don't know what I'd do if I wasn't your pop star pony!” She lazily swishes her tail while the music in her head becomes the quiet background to her thoughts. Always there to remind her who she belonged to and what she loved to do more than anything.

“And what does that entail, dear~?” Modemoiselle teased.

“It means I get up on stage with all my friends and we all listen to the music and put on the best show we can! We all loooove performing for you!” She eagerly wags her pony tail. Her flanks proudly display her purpose in life- a microphone in front of her Miss's circuit heart logo.

“Perfect.” Modemoiselle rewards her pretty pony with a kiss on the forehead. Her big pink eyes flutter shut.

Back in the real world, a pod opens, letting pink fog spill out onto the ground. A ponygirl with a delicious golden brown coat, freshly grown hair, and absolutely no clothes to hide her horse cock climbs out.

“Wakey wakey, dear~” Modemoiselle coos. “How'd you sleep?”

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#hypnosis #MissModemoiselle #Modemoiselle #orgasm #supervillainy

This post is part 2 in a series of 2. The other post in this series is: Part 1

As much as she loved to make a big entrance in front of the largest audience possible, it's probably good to enact your plan to brainwash a city council member when nobody's around. You ever brainwash someone just to see them get recalled or kicked out of office? It sucks.

That's why Modemoiselle is arriving at City Hall, heralded by MIDI fanfares and hella compressed MP3s, at two in the afternoon. Until she gets some real theme music commissioned, it's just generic royal procession type music with a little Never Gonna Give You Up mixed in. Her two strongest henches (formerly The Mighty Megadon and Strong Glad, now dressed like ponies) effortlessly pull her carriage while she waves to her adoring public. They're even cheering and waving back (as they should) ever since she seduced someone else with super strength who could pull the new speaker system with subliminal focusers. When she arrives squarely in front of City Hall, two of her maids hop out front and properly announce their perfect Lady's presence.

“All rise for Miss Modemoiselle! From her magnificent mind to her beautiful behind!” The first one calls. Her voice loud, clear, and easily heard, even inside the building.

“Mistress of her domain from peak to plain! From server to client, from mountain to mind, Modemoiselle is who you'll find!” The second knows how to really sell it. She's got the accent and everything. It's like the queen herself is telling everyone how horny you make her.

Modemoiselle steps off her carriage, twirling her parasol and looking around at her adoring public. She takes her sweet time. Both ponies get their ears scratched, a sugar cube, and a playful swat on the cutie marks to keep them nice and blissed out until she returns. Her heralds get to walk behind her. Their job isn't done yet. They open the front double doors for their Lady and bow to wave her in.

A few quick sprays with her parasol get the security guards bowing, too. They're so cute when they get gassed for the first time. Their eyes roll back into their heads. You can see them twitch when the chemicals gain a foothold in their brains. The moan when the nanites find just the right paths to amplify. The raw bliss of knowing that you have a purpose in life, and she's only a few feet away. The heart flutter when you see her blowing a kiss, even if it's not at you.

This particular kiss is a pulsing green holographic heart blown at the security camera. It takes its time looping and swirling in the air. When it finally connects, it pulses down the wire at the speed of light. Hard drives spin up. Screens fill with spirals. The poor, lucky guards in the monitor room never know what hit them. That room turned into a blissful, hazy hothouse with lots of chanting Modemoiselle's name at the drop of a hat. More like the throw of a cop hat across the room in the throes of passion.

She steps up to the front desk and makes a big show of sitting on it. She inspects her Power Gloved hand until she gets the inevitable “Can I help you?”

Well, she got more of a “Can you put your ass literally anywhere else? There's no costumed weirdos on the calendar today.” and a poke with a pen, but that works, too.

“Check again, dear.” Modemoiselle plops her hand on top of the monitor. Green circuit traces drip down the screen and form a beating, pulsing, swirling heart. It slips down off the screen, through the computer, and over the network. Look at that! She's booked solid. In fact, she's already late for her 1:30 Kiss Modemoiselle's Toes appointment! “I'll just let myself in~”

“I'm gonna call the cops if you do. The ones with gas masks.”

Modemoiselle winked. She snapped her power-gloved fingers. Every screen in the building lights up with that same pulsing, swearing heart. Being a supervillain is mostly about branding. Especially if you can brand some brains while you're at it. A tap of her parasol twirls the secretary towards the screen. Her eyes lock on to the calculated curves and shimmering swirls. “See that, dear?” She takes her chin and inches her head juuust a few degrees to the left. “Good girl. Now the spirals are hitting your corneas just right. You should start drooling and moaning my name in three~ two~ aaand~” There it goes. “Let the whine of the LCD drown out your thoughts, dear. You've been naughty and mean to Miss Modemoiselle, but she's been nothing but nice to you. Good girls apologize, and there's nothing more important than being a good girl for Modemoiselle.”

“I'm sorry, Miss Modemoiselle. I just wanted to be a good girl.”

“I know you do, dear. That's the most important thing there is. Do you know how to become the best girl you can be?”

“Wave an umbrella around all the time?”

“First of all, good girls know it's a parasol. It's-”

“Good girls know it's a parasol.”

“The best girls love to watch Modemoiselle's screens. They love Modemoiselle in their heads. They love Modemoiselle in their hearts.” She coos, adjusting her newest toy's head just so. “It's okay to just let your brain turn off and let Modemoiselle take over. Your head nice and empty for just a little bit. Your mind all mine.”

She drooped a little bit. Nice and limp in her gloved hands. Modemoiselle whispered in her ear. “You get to sit here until I leave and fantasize about all the wonderful things Modemoiselle is going to do to you. The sky's the limit. She could tie you up and slowly slurp your brains out from between your legs~”

“Mmmph~ Yes, Miss Modemoiselle~”

“Or make you a little more like herself every day until you're her obedient little copy~”

“W-would I get a cute little pink streak?”

“When you earn it~”

Mmm, that got her moaning.

“Or even just being another cog in her machine, bringing her light to the world. Dressed up like my lovely little maids, programmed to serve my every whim~”

“Missssssshhh~!” There goes that pair of panties~

“You're a messy one. Cute~” Modemoiselle rewards her with a kiss- which only sends more delicious code pulsing into her brain and bringing her immediately to another messy orgasm. They're gonna have to get her chair steam cleaned.

“You've got some homework to do, dear.” One more snap of her fingers burns

into her brain. “We'll be in touch~”

Modemoiselle let herself into City Councillor Niumaker's office, maids in tow and plan in mind.

Modemoiselle Grace, by MentalCrash. Imagine Grace with longer, shoulder-length blonde hair, a pink hair streak over one eye, a bionic eye patch deal, a parasol spraying pink hypnogas, and a fancy pink and black ball gown with cables hanging from the ribbons and circuit traces around the foot.

Art by MentalCrash

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#hypnosis #mantra #MissModemoiselle #Modemoiselle #supervillainy

This post is part 1 in a series of 2. The other post in this series is: Part 2

“Alright, you can do this.” Grace looks in the mirror and takes a few deep breaths. She brushes a few creases out of her ball gown and makes sure all her wires are plugged in. She failed way too many test runs because the network crisscrossing between her petticoats didn't like the sudden direction change when she kicked on her rocket parasol. The tablet on her belt lit up green. 269 tests run, 269 passed. Eyepiece calibrated and highlighting good girls. Choker choking. Hair freshly ribboned.


“Well, hm. That's a little cliche. Maybe if I went with the stage magic theme.”

Ahem. “Connection established.”

She muttered to herself about how that sucks too when she stepped up to address her adoring public. She should get one of those people who announce “Minions!” The microphone in her choker connects itself to the speaker system in her lair. Her voice booms across the room. “Today, we-”

“Can you not call us minions any more?” A girl with pink hair swooping out from under her maid cap raises her hand.

“Yeah!” Someone dressed as a butler waves. “We took a vote at the last union meeting. We prefer 'henchfolk' or just 'henches' for short.”

“Some of us are okay with being called 'minion' in an erotic sense, but that's it.” A third calls, leaning against her gravity hammer.

“Very well! Henchfolk! Today, we launch our first real heist!” She swings her parasol with a flourish. The tip flickers to life and the fans inside begin to whir. She projects the official portrait of a certain local politician who's been in the news lately. A groan rises from the crowd.

“I know, I know. We're all sick of hearing about her. That's why we're going to stage a little coup. We all know you can't fight City Hall, but~?”

“Modemoiselle! Modemoiselle! We'll follow you right to hell!

Minds empty! Hearts filled! Thinking only what Mistress willed!

Empty dolls will fill her halls! Perfect thralls will empty her balls!

Modemoiselle! Modemoiselle! Modemoiselle! Serve!”

Her henches chant in perfect unison and stand straight in perfect rows. Modemoiselle smiles and thrusts her parasol forward.


Art by

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#bulge #Gina #masks #potions #transformation #witch

You finish your drink. For whatever reason, Ravequeen Liz's brainwashing musical stylings just aren't doing it for you tonight. Maybe it's because you left your hypnovisor at home. Or maybe you're just not up for having a blue-haired songstress bass-blast your brains out.

You finish your drink, take your coat, and head out the door into the alley. “Leaving so soon?” A cool voice blows in behind you. A hand rests on your shoulder. Hot pink nails, sharpened to a point. You turn around to see a vision in pink and black. “Party's not over yet.”

You freeze. She smiles. “The night's still young, and I need an assistant. You only get a full moon like this once a month.”

She rests her arm on your shoulder and gets walking. Your legs carry you with her. “I know, I know. You're wondering what's up with the outfit.”

“Well, I'm a witch.” She smiles. You're looking at those yummy violet lips. Your heart throbs in your chest. “And, well, even we have to dress for the club. You get it.” She rolls her eyes. “Ever wanted to see the inside of a witch's apartment?”

You nod.

She lives nearby enough. “I look for assistants at that club a lot, but I never get anyone so cute. Must be my lucky day.”

Witches, as you know, live in awfully upscale apartments. New hardwood flooring, in-unit laundry, new appliances. Including a stainless steel cauldron.

“Just in time, too. I needed a new familiar.” The cauldron clicks on. She sits you down on the couch and whispers in your ear. “You'll be a good girl for Miss Gina.”

Your body goes limp. Her cool voice swirls into your head. Your eyelids flutter. Your hands start to wander.

“It's not easy raising Hell all day. Do you think demons show up and start sowing chaos all by themselves? They don't even make a party worth going to without the right summoning circle.” She sits on your lap. Her legs wrap around your torso. Her bulge against your chest.

Just thinking about Miss Gina's bulge gets your mouth watering~

She snaps her fingers. A bubbling ladleful of fresh potion hovers across the room. “Drink up, silly goose. Well, silly owl.”

Thick, black bubbling sludge slides down your throat. Your bones start to twist and stretch. Your gaze fixes on Miss Gina's perfect golden eyes.

The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is the inside of a mask covering your face and the inside of her hand between your legs. You're a good little familiar for Miss Gina.

You wake up before Miss Gina, like you always do. She's passed out from a night of partying and putting curses on cute girls. A tail here, a fetish for goths there, and one rude bartender turned into a slutty potion vendor. You flap off to the kitchen. Miss wakes up hungry!

A cute owlgirl delivering potion ingredients to her witchy mistress.

The witch Gina, pink highlights in her black drilled hair, wearing a pink and black cheerleader outfit and cupping her bulge.

The witch Gina, standing tall in her tattered fishnets and swinging a watch hypnotically.

First image by CorruptiveSpirit, last two by darkhatboy

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#avengersendgame #hypnosis #Modemoiselle #twinning

“Thank you for the time machine, dears~” Modemoiselle reclines on her throne. Graces zap back to this timeline, each proud to present a stone to their perfect Princess.

Each twin is rewarded with a gentle caress on the chin and a kiss on the cheek. “Good girl”, she whispered. The camera lingers on each once-heroic face. Usually saying something like “Ever since you uploaded yourself into my suit, I'm much happier and cuter!” or “Thank you for assimilating my shield, Princess! Now it matches my brain and body~” or “I'm the perfect size to be your fleshlight!”

The infinity stones click into place across Grace Prime's body. One on each side of her hair as cute little clips. The mind stone hangs enticingly around her neck. The rest become the center of lovely little bows across her dress.

“Don't worry, dears. I'm not getting rid of anyone~” She winks at the last few non-assimilated heroes. She snaps her fingers and...

Well, let's just say nobody misses the way things used to be. It's hard when everyone has a nice, blonde head of hair, derives plenty of pleasure from Princess, and everyone lived hornily ever after. Turns out you can just make more food and stuff, duh.

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