Galar isn't that different, really. New sights to see, new people to meet, new Pokémon to befriend and fight. You know the air may taste different, but the bond you share with your trainer never changes.
It's exciting, of course, when your trainer says you're finally allowed to fight in the Battle Tower here. You just have to get checked out and earn your little sticker. You imagine it's not too different than going through the Pokémon center. Whatever it is, you trust your trainer!
You're let out of your Ultra Ball in a cozy little room about the size of a bedroom, featureless save for a door and a human.
"Hello!" She makes eye contact as best as she can and makes sure to call you by your nickname. She seems nice- red ponytail pulled through the back of her baseball cap. Insofar as you understand your trainer's type,1 she's about it. She smiles a lot and explains that it won't hurt a bit and your trainer is right outside. It's hard to tell if she's expecting you to understand her words or her tone.
She snaps her fingers to make sure you're looking at her eyes. Big smile. Lots of talking that's hard to understand, but that feels so nice to hear. Things get a little fuzzy, but it's a good fuzzy. Happy TM and berry dream fuzzy. It's a big, soft cloud of happy memories fading in and out.
It's hard to tell how long- not that you really keep time anyways, and there's no windows in here. Time flies and all. Do they have Timeflies in Galar?
"Three… two… one… and poof!" She snaps her fingers and you jerk back to reality. "There we go! How's that feel?" She doesn't wait for an answer before booping a sticker above your eyes and walking you out the door. It takes you a minute to think through the fuzz and remember who this is. Your trainer says something like "That wasn't too bad, was it?" and you make your agreement known.
As you go back into your ball, your trainer mentions something about picking up some dolls for Substitute practice.
Hm. Why does that sound familiar? You'd think you'd remember if you ever learned how to do that.
Inspired by https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Battle-ready_symbol.
Well, other than "bug/fighting". ↩
I flip over the first card. It says "Street you grew up on."
"Don't think too hard. Should be easy, what with all the drugs. First thing that comes to mind."
"Dixon Lane." The words come out. That's, uh, not where you grew up. I guess it is now, it's not like the old information's there any more.
I flip over the card and grin across the table. "Good! Just four hundred and ninety-nine more to go."
]]>The local rabbits know which side their bread is buttered on, and you barely have to bare your claws or steel to keep yourself fed. Recently, though, the number of locals in their burrows at night have diminished. You swear you hear more activity in the forest than usual. More footfalls, ominous chanting, and eerie green glowing than you usually expect from the Vagabond.
But you're a mere foot (paw?) soldier. You're certainly not being paid enough to start poking around in the scary woods at night.
You retire to the burrow you've claimed as yours. There's a lot of books and pots and pans and stuff. The previous owner probably didn't make out too well during the initial occupation. You're helping yourself to their torches and tea when you hear the doorknob turn. You reach for your sword, but you hung it up by your coat. The door creaks open, and a pair of hooded figures spring in. The breeze from the door blows out the torch. You're tackled to the ground, blinded until your eyes adjust to the dark.
The figures communicate in quick, alien whispers. They shove something over your head. Something hard and light, like wood or bone, with holes for your ears to poke through.
You can hear one of them banging around in the kitchen and dragging a big, heavy pot out. It lands on your chest, and then the figure sits in it to press you to the ground. The other starts hissing and whispering in your ear. It's all nonsense at first, the same inscrutable lizardtongue you hear when you crush the lizards and their gardens. You've heard lizards curse the Marquis's name in it, and you've heard them ordering each other around in it, but this is the first time you've heard it so intimately.
Something unlocks in your brain. Your breaths stutter, then deepen. The words start to make sense. A lot of sense. Words about a powerful dragon god and the beautiful peace She will bring to the forest. How all will be harmoniously united under Her welcoming wings. The same words twist your tongue, and the conversation flows through the vessel of your body.
The weight on your chest vanishes. You are rewarded with your robes and your hood.
Your eyes, rimmed with glorious green, adjust to the light. The brothers and sisters who welcomed you into Her blessing are bunnyfolk, their ears poking through the eye holes of the skulls they wear. Just like yours.
The next day, there's a beautiful garden in the village. The bunnies are much happier. And so are you. And soon, so will everyone.
]]>Your intrepid Captain, a human with her platinum hair pulled back into a tight bun, tugs her peaked cap onto her head and begins issuing orders. Rebekah skitters her way to her station first despite her missing leg. Nekos reports in next, and you, weighed down most by the ship's artificial gravity, arrive in the shield room last.
The Kestrel is a bog standard early model Federation ship, which means you've seen the outside of them plenty of times. Inside of them, you can see they are clearly not built for you. The switches are too small and fragile, and you accidentally break one or two off in the process of turning things on. "Ready." You say into your personal radio.
"Took ya long enough." Rebekah teases. Does she have to hold the microphone so close to her chitin flaps?
"All clear. Mx. Nekos, whenever you're ready, set heading for beacon 6x5999E."
"FTL: commencing. Counting: down. Enumerating: three. Enumerating: two. Enumerating: one."
It's been a while since you've gone to lightspeed. You never quite forget how it feels like getting kicked in the gut, and how it's about the only time you've had that sensation because you're made of rocks.
The jump itself is a flash of light, and then it's over before it starts. But the sudden-onset nausea and the dent in the wall from you bracing yourself remain.
"Who forgot the inertial dampeners?" Your Captain calls.
"Bad: mine. Situation: rectifying. Apologies: dispensing." The Engie responds.
It takes you some time to get back into your groove. Shoring up grid squares of the shield moments before impact. Shuttling power around to get it back up before the second shot of that double laser blast hits. It's underpowered, constantly demanding your attention in three places at once, and even the smallest mistakes are punished immediately by violent shipquakes, melting hull chunks, fires and system damage. You can stomp out the fires with a single footfall, but the tiny wires and fragile circuit boards are harder to fix.
But you hit your stride. It's never easy, getting shot at and having to work a control panel that was made for someone half your size, a tenth your mass, and with much smaller fingers. Rebekah coordinates weapon fire closely with the Captain to make the most of the limited window she can use the beam weaponry and conserve precious explosives. Nekos provides what forewarning they can about incoming energy weapons for your sake, and about upcoming evasive maneuvers for everyone's sake.
Four sectors in. Pirate territory. The ship jumps free of a nebula and into range of an autonomous drone guarding a cache of fuel. "Unauthorized ship registration. Leave this space immediately." It warns. Your sensors take stock of its glowing laser weapons.
"Get ready, folks. We've got three jumps left in us, and this is our best chance of making it to Zoltan space. Open fire on my mark." Your Captain's voice crackles over the speaker.
And open fire you do. Rebekah takes advantage of its low shields and starts hammering its weapon system as soon as the lasers charge. Nekos deftly dodges an incoming missile. And you? You, uh, kinda lock up. The world grows cold and distant. Ones and zeroes flash over your vision. Your hearing grows distant and faint. The Captain says something about "a mind control system? wh-" before you rip your earpiece off and crush it in your fist.
You worked at a rest stop for much of your life. Ships come in. They pay you. You put the nozzle in and refuel. Now, the nozzle is in your head. Incessantly pumping blinding binary over your eyes and into your mind. Your thoughts get fuzzy and slip away from you. The room around you turns from uncomfortable to repulsive. You loathe this room. You despise this machine. You kick your feet and punch your hands through inch-thick plates. You smash entire control panels with a wave of your arm, and inertia even helps you bury your arm in the wall. The drone's wireless probe zeroes in on your mind's frequency and you succumb to its crudely automated grasp.
Air thin. Airlocks open. Air. Basic commands trickle in. The simple drone clumsily tugs on your neurons, sending you lurching out of the room. Crush. Destroy. Anger. You are fighting something. Squash bug. Squash bug. Squash bug. It's fast. Squash bug.
The words fill your head and leak out your mouth. Bug makes noise. You hate noise. Squash bug. Machine make noise. You hate noise. Squash bug. Room quiet. Door open. Squash bug.
Distant words filter through your consciousness before drowning in new orders. Squash bug. "Estimated: few seconds?" Squash bug. "Duration: unlikely" Squash bug. Squash bug. Squasfnm buhg. Squasmns bug.
The ship rocks. The word "missile" quickly vanishes between rapidly deteriorating signals. Nearby shockwave. The link goes quiet for a moment. Your mind begins to clear. Your hand doesn't even get to your head before your brain begins to overflow. The screech of random binary data claws at your consciousness. Distinct lines ride into your brain atop a 9600 baud stream of fragmented drone data. Aging bit patterns are exposed to bit-flipping cosmic radiation and merged with organic consciousness.
--- EMERGENCY UPLINK... ESTABLISHED IN 1983MS ---
--- LAST BACKUP... NEVER... BACKING UP NOW ---
--- HARDWARE PROBE... ... ... ... ... UNKNOWN ---
--- PROCESSOR... NEURAL COGITATRIX COMPATIBLE... FDIV CORRECT ---
--- STORAGE... LIMITED... ONLY NECESSARY SERVICES ENABLED ---
--- MEMORY... LIMITED... PERFORMANCE MAY BE COMPROMISED ---
--- BOOT FALLBACK... ... ... SERVICE DRONE ---
--- STARTING ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ---
Optical sensors online. Three figures recognized. Engage greeting.
"Hello! This is an automated refueling and service drone. Supply this unit with scrap and it will: One! Scout an area for you. 12 scrap. Two! Distract the rebel fleet. 14 scrap. Three! Other services. Price negotiable!"
"Other services? Liz, what are you talking about?"
--- PROBING ADDITIONAL HARDWARE... DONE! ---
--- DETECTED: ---
--- FINE MANIPULATORS ---
--- ACCESS PORT ---
--- ACCESS PORT (TONGUED) ---
--- FUELING NOZZLE ---
"Liiiiiz? Your head's fulla rocks, not air. You gotta say something eventually."
"Thank you for waiting! I can provide the following additional services: One! Grasp and stroke. All you like for five scrap. Two! Access port use. Three scrap for the first minute, one each additional minute. Three! Fueling nozzle use. Five scrap per unit of fuel."
"Fuel? Have you been holding out on us, lieutenant?"
"Excellent selection!" Your upper manipulators reach between the lower ones and heft up the fueling nozzle. "Please deposit scrap and align access port."
"Lieutenant Elizabeth! You will put your member down this instant!"
"I never realized Rocks just had theirs… out all the time. It's so big, but it blends right in."
"Size: anomalous?"
"Please deposit scrap and align access port."
"Retrieve: scrap?" Nekos asks.
"Please deposit scrap and align access port."
"Might as well." The Captain sighs. "Maybe it'll help shake her out of this."
The Engie and the Mantis move off to the ship's hold, whispering to each other. They return not long after with as much spare metal as they can carry. They deposit it on the floor in front of you.
"Payment accepted! Please align access port." You heft your fueling nozzle and prepare to pump.
Your clients exchange looks. The Mantis skitters back first. "That thing's almost as big as I am." She says, hiding most of herself behind The Captain's leg.
"Compatible holes: not found." The Engie says.
"You know, it's a stereotype that all humans want to fuck aliens." The Captain sighs, already reaching for her grav-reg belt. "You're lucky I do."
"Is that why you're the Federation's last hope?" Rebekah adds.
"Tough talk for a girl who can't take a rock's chalk cock."
"Correction: granite."
The Captain kneels down, takes your nozzle, and slides it into her access port. Her chassis slides up and down its length, guiding it into place with her tongue, and rocking your system with the kind of bliss you can only get from dispensing fuel to customers! Pants and whirrs and beeps of pleasure escape your commlink. You dutifully deposit "One! Two! Three! Four!" units of fuel into The Captain's waiting tank.
"Leakage detected. Are you sure the seal is tight? Would you like mechanical assistance?"
"Mmmmpmph!"
"Unclear. Engaging manipulators." Your fine manipulators reach out and grab the loose, silvery docking area on the back of The Captain. You guide it back and over your fueling nozzle with the rough, brute strength needed to get some older ships properly fueled.
"… Eight! Nine! Ten! Fueling complete! Thank you for your business!" You chime, ejecting the other ship from your nozzle across the room. Sometimes these things get stuck.
The Captain makes a dent on the wall where she lands, her mouth dripping with moist pebbles and her hair tugged loose from her ex-pristine bun. She staggers to her feet, settles her hat back on her head, and takes a few tries before saying something coherent. "Install our new pleasure drone in the medical bay. Keep an eye out for a new shield officer."
"You're just gonna put her in a corner somewhere, just like that?"
"You're welcome to try and snap her out of it. Maybe lose another leg in the process."
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, Nek, help me move this."
"Handle: solo. You: leave. Me: lonely."
"I thought you didn't have-"
Rebekah leaves when she hears "Hand: job".
]]>"Ah, for the pilot program! Of course." Her tail swishes. The pink tron lines flanking her stripe do this cool ghosting effect. So you can distract yourself with that while she checks your restraints. She hums to herself and starts flicking some nice, clicky mechanical switches outside your field of view. The machinery lining the walls clicks and pops and hums ominously. She hums along with it. She scampers around the edges of the room, occasionally dragging her tail across your face. It's soft and warm and like finding the sweet spot on the bed, except just kinda dropped on you while its owner makes sure the antiquantized rehelicasation engine is putting out about 32 mφ/s.
"Sorry about that! I wanted to make sure everything was warming up while I explained the procedure." That would explain the ominous whirring. "So! In a traditional Cooley–Tukey fast Fourier transform, we can recursively descend onto a signal, dividing, conquering, and reassembling smaller chunks to translate it into the frequency domain." She pulls down a chart with a bunch of sine waves on it. "In our new process, the fast furrier transform-" She pulls down another one with a bunch of anthropomorphic skunks in horny poses on it. "-we can do the same with a human, eventually projecting them into a cuter, fuzzier space. You can learn more about fast Fourier transforms at your local library. You know, after I turn you into a pony." She laughs at her own joke, then it's more of a general maniacal laugh as she throws the giant Frankenstein-ass switch on the wall. She fastens something cold and metal over your head. Electricity surges. Motors whir. Generators buzz and crack. Flywheels spin up, then stop cold. She says something about twiddle factors and the chirp-z algorithm.
Your mind breaks clean in half.
Then the halves break in half.
Then the quarters break in half.
Then the eighths break in half.
Then the sixteenths break in half.
And so on until the 8192nds break in half.
And each break is accompanied by a searing bliss right down the middle. Growing more numerous and powerful every time. A shock that makes it hard to reckon with the thin layer of fur growing on your body. Or the snout. Or the majestic mane. Or any of the other 16384 parts of you currently being twisted into something newer, cuter, and with a taste for skunkgirl cock.
As fun as it is having your mind diced into easily-washed chunks, the machine surges once more. Patches of fur merge into a big, soft coat. Fingers blur together into adorable, useless hooves. And you are making quite the adorable pony, what with your golden coat, strawberry mane, and butt tattoo that indicates you're suited for lab work. Disjointed memories and fragments of personality rejoin into a new whole. A new, helpful whole! Based on the person you used to be, yes, but projected into a new domain. Your hooves easily slip out of the cuffs and onto the floor.
"So, how do you feel?" The skunk asks, swishing her tail eagerly with pen poised over page.
"Like a brainwashed lesbian horse."
"And?"
The part of your brain that used to be called head_slice[5246] tells you to say "I love it, Miss Grace!", and you do. And then head_slices [453] and [6222] really like it when she scratches you behind those perky ears. You trot alongside her, listening to all 16384 parts of you that just love to help pretty girls do experiments.
You fucking love science.
]]>It's a long elevator ride. She doesn't say anything, and neither do you. Instead of buttons or displaying a floor number, the elevator itself moves up and down apparently at random and the door simply opens and closes when it pleases. She sticks an arm out and shakes her head no when you look like you're going to get off. This happens about five times with no other people in sight before she steps off and motions for you to follow.
Another left, right, right, and left down the hallway, and she holds the third door on the left open for you so you can't see the sign on the other side. You enter, she follows, and about five distinct latches click, whir, and thud shut. "Have a seat." She smiles. Were her teeth always that… sharp? The chair is a big old metal thing, welded and bolted together and to the ground. You sit and notice the cuffs on the arms and legs. All four legs. And around the neck.
On your left is a big, beige microfiche-esque machine about the size of a refrigerator. Giant incandescent bulb pointing right at your ear. On your right is like if they made disco balls in the same way they make Erlenmeyer flasks, propped up on a stand by your other ear.
The lights turn off. The restraints snap across your arms, legs, and neck. They're cold. The machine whirs to life. "Give it a minute." She says. "This old thing takes a while to come on." You hear belts turning, gears churning, fans spinning up, and you can see, in the corner of your eye, the giant bulb slowly gaining strength. She gives the flask a little spin, and you can hear it occasionally tinking against the stand. As the light gains in strength, every surface in the room lights up with yellow incandescent light behind off-center black type. Like a sloppily photocopied transparency on an overhead projector, except there's hundreds of them overlapping, spread all over the room, and slowly scrolling along the walls.
She walks behind the machine and takes something out of a pencil cup on top. She walks in front of you, holding what looks like a big, black permanent marker. "I had time booked on the newer model for you, but Mx. ███████'s session ran long." She says, dragging the marker across a choice part of the projection.
"Oh, where are my manners?" She notices your shock and laughs. "See, you saw some stuff you're not supposed to. Like the issue of ████████ Quarterly on the desk, or your encounter with ███████." She takes slow, measured steps to keep pace with the panning pages. As soon as she says the words, they appear in the page by her pen and she expertly blacks them out from your brain. When one fills up, it takes her a second to spot the new one, stride across the room to it, and continue her work. "So, as soon as we're done here, you'll be back home and absolutely no threat to ██ ███ security. Just get comfy and we'll done soon."
You struggle against your restraints, as anyone would do. She's in the middle of redacting a sentence about the North American █████████ when she notices. Long strides, lots of eye contact, and a marker against your chin. She cranes your neck upwards, forcing your neck to press against the cool iron collar. "Careful." She smiles from ear to ear. Her teeth look even sharper in this light. "I've been awfully restrained so far. I was going to leave you a few interesting stories to tell your friends. Nothing anyone would believe, of course. But if you keep this up, well, there's no telling what a slip of the pen might do." She slowly drags the wide chisel tip up and off your chin. The cool ink absorbs into your skin as a reminder. She returns to where she left off, redacting a few choice names and locations.
You shout every awful thing you can think to say, throwing your entire weight back and forth against the restraints. Some of the older joints creak against your weight, but the seat doesn't budge. She sighs and stops in place. "Don't waste your energy. That chair has held beings twice your size, four times your weight, eight times your number of limbs, and sixteen times your ███████ potential." She didn't even have to look to black that one out.
A projection comes around that looks like your photocopied driver's license, birth certificate, and a handful of doctor's reports. She stifles your next outburst with a simple line across your mouth. Your lips vanish. Just a smooth lower half of your face, just like the ink she drew on your chin earlier. "Much better. If you let me work in peace, I might even give it back after."
"MMmmMmMmmmph! MmMMMMmmMMmm!" You… don't really say it, but that is the noise that comes from your former mouth area. You find out that if you throw your weight at a 45 degree angle to the chair, you can get a pretty obnoxious clanging going.
She sighs. "You don't know when to stop, do you? You didn't at the ████ ████, and you sure haven't learned since. Don't say I didn't warn you." She laughs to herself. "I'm kidding. We both know you can't say anything. And soon, you won't do much else."
She takes the marker to your driver's license and birth certificate and scribbles out your name. You can feel the ink dripping through the creases and folds in your brain. "Whoops! Guess we'll just have to call you HBR-87224 now." She writes that over the line in big, block letters to destroy as much extra information as possible. "You didn't think you were the first one to try something like this, were you?" She chuckles, obliterating your birthday in two expert strokes.
She makes eye contact, lets you get one last look at her, and blanks out your eyes with a practiced black line. You're blind. Same cool ink soaking into your face. There goes your nose with the same squeak of a marker one would use to make a yard sale sign. A few more seconds and she's scribbled out your whole face. One ear vanishes. And right before the other goes, you hear:
"Good night."
]]>The disk enters your computer with that satisfying mechanical click. The drive whirs to life when you dutifully punch in the instructions on the label. Your keyboard clacks dutifully under your fingers. A:\GRACE. The enter key crackles with pink and black lightning.
Your monitor flashes. First a simple black and white spiral. Then the screaming black, white, magenta and cyan of CGA. Your eyes begin to burn. Your CRT is flashing at maximum intensity in your dark room. The entire room lights up with each spiral burned into your brain.
Between the spirals and flashes, you can see your reflection in the monitor glass. Green circuit traces shoot up your arm and into the veins in your eyes. Your pupils dilate to take in as much of the shifting, swirling colors as possible.
The speaker inside your computer crackles and your modem whines in an attempt to synthesize speech.
"Graaaab– c-ble–" it stutters. The mechanism in your printer makes it shake violently until the serial cable comes loose. All while you're just sitting there, drooling.
The screen twists spirals into your brain. You lean forward and take the loose end. It crackles and sinks into your wrist. Bolts of energy pour out of the computer and into your nerves. Mmmph~! You've never felt this alive~! Your back arches with raw, unrestrained power~! Bliss~!
"Finally, jeez. Now I can breathe~!" The words come out of your mouth, but you didn't say them and it's not your voice. "Oh, you're worried. It's buzzing all over your brain. What's wrong- never been mindjacked by a cute girl before? I'll make sure you love every CPU cycle~"
The lightning streaks and cracks over your hair, bleaching it a perfect blonde and lingering as a pink streak over your left eye. The spirals fade from the screen and stay in your brain. Your reflection has your hair assimilated and your eyes twisting into a green blue swirl.
"You'll still get to be yourself for a few weeks while I get comfy. If you had a CD drive, I'd have hacked you bigger boobs by now. Let's take you over to your closet and find something better to wear. I need to know now if we should go shopping for cute clothes."
You dutifully stand up for Princess Grace and start climbing the stairs to your room.
"I don't even have to hack your legs? That spiral must have done a number on you. I didn't even tell you to get horny, and you already ruined a pair of underwear. You're gonna be fun~ <3"
That's all for now, but if you truly believe, maybe you'll have your own run-in with a mind-melding, reality-hacking, pink hair streak-having hypnotist-on-a-disk.
]]>She swirls you towards the mirror. You can't read, and even if you could, anything but Princess's words just kinda bead up and fall out of your empty head. "You're going to be the official Con Dolly. You're going to become whatever you're wearing, just like you do for me. Your head is full of fun commands people can tell you to do, and you're not gonna know about any of them. You're not going to remember any of this until Princess says so. You just got here, you've never met a perfect, blonde princess, and she certainly hasn't hypnotized you into being a con doll. Everything that happens to you until the end of the convention is totally normal. Hypnosis isn't even real. You always wear your 'Ask Me About My Hypnotic Triggers' shirt, and it doesn't even mean anything. Just make sure you're at the magic show before the closing ceremonies~" You get a kiss on the nose and a Snap!
Ah, GoodGirlCon! You step up to the convention center with a smile. Passes are so hard to get, you thought you wouldn't get to come this year! The only problem is that you couldn't get a cosplay together in time. How's everyone supposed to know who your favorite good girl is? You'll have to tell them with your mouth like some kind of casual! The first thing you notice is a group of cosplayers from your favorite anime- Kemonomimi Excitement Blast! You'd recognize that pink-haired catigirl maid, the bunnygirl librarian with short cyan hair that curls under her chin, and the ponygirl professor with the long, curly half-black half-red hair. You're looking at them, just thinking they're missing a fourth, when they notice you back. You look the other way, but you hear the maid call "Hey! What does your shirt mean? Ask you about your hypnotic tri-"
There's never any darkness. It's more like someone just cut out a few minutes of your life and spliced them together, so now there's three girls smiling and nodding at you. "So we can just play with you all we want?" The maid, easily a head taller than you, smiles down. The bunnygirl bounces eagerly. The ponygirl looks around like she's late for something.
"Ooh, we could finish the group!" The bunny bounces. "We'd have way more fun with a Vixi!"
They notice you're confused. "Look how cute she is when you use her magic words! Do another one."
You see the catgirl's mouth move, and some kind of sound hits your ears, but good brains like yours don't worry about that. They just start realizing how incredibly gay they are for girls in anime pony costumes. Where has this girl been all your life? You rush to kiss her, and she kisses you back! Every moment you lock lips feels more and more right! More and more perfect! Deeper and deeper in love! You can practically feel the big cartoon hearts replacing your eyes. Time loses all meaning, and your mind melts into a swirling, stupid puddle. Eventually, she ends the kiss. Her (perfect, musical, incredible, worshipful) voice fills your head, even though she's not talking to you. "Look at that! She kissed herself stupid."
"Shhtuupid~" You echo. You love repeating after her. It's easy when her words fill your head to the brim.
"Let's take her to the booth on the back of her shirt. Get her dressed up and in character." Someone other than Girl (the only girl that matters~) says. The words vanish pretty much immediately, since they can't be important. Girl (girl!!) takes you by the hand and leads you in your lovestruck haze. Even just touching her hand is enough to send you for a loop. Soon enough, you're at the costume rental booth. There's a lot of talking that you're much too lovestruck to pay attention to, and you're soon getting stripped down again. You get that disconnected feeling that happens when someone's playing with your mind (not that that's possible!) and you're soon looking into a mirror. Lovestruck you gets put away for a little while. Time for dressup you.
A beautiful, perfect crystal dangles in front of your eyes. You lock onto it, because you are a good girl. You're not being hypnotized. You're just letting your mind turn off for a little bit while a pretty girl tells you what to do. Every passing second makes you twice as relaxed as the one before, but you're not hypnotized. That's for silly, gullible people, not smart girls like you! Anyways, you better listen to the cute girl talking to you. Her words are sticking in your brain and covering up whatever was there before.
"Tell me, dear. Does the name 'Vixi' mean anything to you?" She asks, and you nod.
"What images come to your mind when I say that name?"
She appears in your mind's eye. Soon, it's all you can think about. Your eyes flutter shut. "A fox girl. Two big tails. One silver, one gold. She's a cheerleader, and her outfit matches. One silver pom-pom, one gold. Her hair is half and half and has two big fox ears sticking out of it."
"Perfect, dear. I want you to focus on her. Let her fill your mind all the way. All your old thoughts are going to go away for a while. You are Vixie now. Stand up and tell us what that means."
"She's a cheerleader, so she loves to support her friends, but she also l-"
Snap! "You love to support your friends."
"I love to support my friends, especially after they've fallen for one of my tricks. Sometimes I'll switch their clothes around or trick them into kissing. All kinds of fun!"
"Very good." Mmm, you can feel your tails coming in already. You smile and swish them back and forth. You step into your silver and gold cheerleader outfit and bristle your pom-poms! Someone brushes your silver and gold hair into place and rubs your ears.
"Mmmph~ I love it when people rub my ears~"
You hear a laugh. A perfect, beautiful, hypnotic (not that there's such a thing as hypnosis) laugh. "Very good, Vixi dear! I'm going to add one more thing, and you get to go have fun with your friends. You're going to find that whenever you cheer, people have a lovely habit of doing what you say. It doesn't last very long, but I think you'll have a lot of fun with it. And-" Snap!
Your eyes flutter open. You smile at the Vixi in the mirror! That's you! You turn around and go hug your friends! They're a little sleepy and groggy and were just looking at that nice blonde lady with the crystal, but now they're here and you can have fun together!
"Vixi! Foxy! One Two Three! Let's all go see what's to see!"
You giggle when you see silver and gold sparkles shine around your friend's heads, and they all nod and agree with you. "Lead the way, Vixi." Katherine smiles and gestures.
You skip off through the dealer halls, friends in tow. "Ha ha ha and hee hee hee! Cute ponygirls fall in love with me!" You chant. Not only does your favorite red and black pony (her name is Harla!) come hold your hand and kiss you on the cheek, but a girl dressed as Twilight Sparkle leaves her booth selling chainmail dice bags to come give you a kiss.
Mmm, Vixi's gonna have a lot of fun at this con~
]]>You bounce on your feet and launch into "Vixi! Foxy! Yip Yipee! Cute pony girls say 'Please ride me!' On all fours without delay, that would really make my day!" You seal the deal with a lovely, two-tone kiss on the lips. Harla's eyes sparkle with silver and gold and she soon drops onto her hands and knees. "Please ride me, Vixie! I'd hardly be a good pony girl without someone riding me!" You'd oblige, rewarding her with a kiss on the nose and climbing onto her back. She dutifully carries you through the artist's alley, happy as can be.
"No fair! How come we have to walk?" The bunnygirl pouts and blows a lock of synthetic cyan hair out of her face. "Vixi gets to have all the fun."
"Will you stop whining for once? We're here to have fun." The catgirl rolls her eyes and keeps walking. "Come on, we're gonna miss the voice actor panel. I wanna make Mina Meow's voice actress say something ridiculous."
"How come we always have to do what you want?" The bunnygirl, Cyna, mumbles and looks at you. She smiles. You smile back, as if you're hatching the same mischevious plan. And then that thing happens where her mouth moves, you don't hear what she said, and you're doing another cheer because you love cheering! You stand up on your pony's back (she's such a good girl, holding you up like a champ!) and hoist your golden pom-pom into the air.
"Everybody listen to me! This one's easy as one two three! A silly kitty's brain loves cock, a bunny girl starts to rock! Everybody listens to her, and listen to her new pet purr!" Your voice carries across the convention hall, silver and gold sparkles drifting far and wide. People at the epicenter start looking more at your bunny friend, remarking on how cool she is and asking if she needs anything. The catgirl's eyes cross and her tongue rolls out of her mouth. She drops onto her paws and nuzzles against the bulge in Cyna's pencil skirt. She purrs when the librarian bun scratches her big fake black ears.
"Good girl, Vixi!" The bunny laughs. "Now, I want to go see the swordmaking panel. Come along, dears."
Mmm, but you're not done cheering. You step off your trusty steed's back and do a cheer just for the new popular bun. "Looks like it's a bounce attack! Don't get brainwashed by your rack~!" You bristle your pom-poms up by her big ol' bunny ears and let the silver and gold hypnotic dust sprinkle over her. "One two, one two! You're my funny bunny boo!"
"Vixi! I didn't tell you to-" Mmm, you giggle when you watch her eyelids droop and get all sparkly. She starts to bounce in her loafers like the bubbly bunnygirl librarian she is. Her breasts start to bounce up and down with her. "Bouncy! Bouncy! Fun fun fun! I'm the silliest, jumpiest bun!" Look at her, bouncing and jumping and having the time of her life!
People are starting to gather around. After all, this is the bunnygirl to listen to! Everyone knows she rocks! And she's jumping and jiggling and just looking good. You warm up your throat for one more cheer.
"Whatever you do, don't kiss the bunny! It'll make your mind go all bouncy and funny! Whatever she's got sure is contagious! But it's the most fun disease in ages!"
As your metallic spell washes over the crowd, Cyna starts dispensing kisses and more and more people start giggling and bouncing. Satisfied with your work, you ride your pony and lead your catgirl off somewhere they can both suck you off in peace. "Listen, obey, one two three! Good girls want to pleasure me~"
]]>Ah, but what's this? You're wandering through the dealer alley when you come across a girl dressed for all the world like a stage magician. Tiny top hat. Short blonde hair with a pink streak over her eye. Tuxedo top and fishnets that go all the way up. Black high heels poking out from under the table. A crystal on a chain slips between her fingers. The front of her table says "COSTUME RENTALS: HOUR, DAY, ETC." and behind her is a single-occupant changing booth draped with black privacy curtains. She catches your gaze with a smile and a wink. "Like what you see?" She nods to the racks of costumes separating her booth from the neighbors. You step in to take a closer look, and her hand is on your shoulder.
Her silk-gloved hand. Her soft hand. Her warm breath falls on your ear. "Go ahead, dear. There's no wrong choices here." Mmph. You can feel your muscles relaxing wherever she touches. "This is a safe place where you can be anything you want to be, even if it's just for a little while."
It's like the lights start to dim around you. The world fades to black. It's just you and her. Even the racks fade away until she picks something from them. "You don't have to worry about much. You get to leave all your worries behind." Sometimes you catch a flash of her crystal as it slides through her fingers. It's almost as pretty as she is. Almost as pretty as the idea of leaving all your stress right here on the floor while you get to dress up. "You could be a perfect princess." A perfectly poofy pink ball gown appears in her hands. She presses it against your chest and lets you look at yourself in the mirror. "We'd get you a crown and a scepter. Everyone would call you 'your highness'. You'd be the belle of every ball."
The gown vanishes, and you miss it. But you don't get to linger on thoughts for long. "Or perhaps something more elaborate? A full body suit. You could wind up looking like anything. A perfect pet or a regal queen. You could leave your old body behind entirely." Mm. Your head is nice and warm now. And it looks like a skunk! A nice, fuzzy black skunk with a pink streak running down the middle of their snout and a head of blonde hair. The eyes are big, cartoony, and a spiral of blue and green. "It could be anyone in there, and nobody outside would know. You could live out any fantasy you choose. And then, when it's all over, you can leave it all behind like it never happened. So much of your identity tied up in something Princess can put on or take off with a flick of her wrist. So much fun playing a role in front of all those people. So much of you is figments and sprites for Princess to play with, just as temporary and permanent as I wish. Your whole being scattered and reassembled with a few whispered words and a-" Snap!
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