Chapter Text
“Hey there, Wonderful…”
It doesn’t feel quite right. Nothing about this feels right, everything feels just a bit…off.
You’re not in your usual surroundings, the ones you’ve grown accustomed to, you can tell even with the blindfold on. Is that sad? Is it sad you know this place inside and out? Is it sad that you don’t remember your parents, your childhood home, your name? But can, in fact, find your way around these hallways with ease?
Your wrists strain against the ties around them, and needlessly you try to pull them apart, but you know she’d never allow it. Meticulously, she’s calculated your every move, she seems always one step ahead, knowing you more than you know yourself.
Which isn’t surprising, considering you don’t seem to remember how to know yourself at all.
In turn, it’s even rarer that they cannot seem to get you to fall for their tricks. Try what they might, try what she might, no matter how much you may forget about yourself, she cannot seem to convince you to be anyone else either.
You’re in a different chair, if you can even call it that. You’re practically bound down on the damn thing, legs stretched long, hands bound at the back, a soft, fluffy blindfold covering your eyes, and a gag of clean fabric that…does it taste like lilies?
You muffle back an unintelligible reply, writhing within your constraints.
“Ah, ah, ah, you know that’s pointless, don’t you, my Precious Peony?”
Her voice is dripping with something different this time, something that makes you much more uncomfortable than her usual tone. There’s something unsettling, something foreign about it. Unpredictable, even. And for as long as they’d kept you, you’d always relied on your sharp perception of the place and its layout, the people, their antics. Knowing something new is coming sends your senses into overdrive, and you’re hyperaware of the shuffling of feet, the moving of substances, the clinking and clanking of her supplies.
One of your ears twitches gently as you listen out, stilling your body.
You know compliance has allowed you to stay alive this long. Though, not much longer of your resistance before they realize their efforts are futile. You don’t even know what use you are to them anyways, considering that, to your knowledge, you are one of the only bodies around this place that is not a child. Wasn’t that the whole point?
Not much more before they might dispose of you for good. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe you’ll finally…
Like nails on a chalkboard, her voice startles you out of your daydreams, her usual uncanny high-pitch that you know she’s forcing by the way she’s straining to get there, you just can’t prove it quite yet, and of what use would it possibly be if you could?
“Now remember, fighting and resisting is not what a good toy does, is it? A good toy obeys, doesn’t it?”
You nod your head slowly, carefully, and for one moment, all movements still. It’s eerily quiet, and you can hear her soft breaths clearly for the first time, albeit labored. Do they always sound like this?
Jittery hands grab for a vial off of what you assume is one of the small tables each of the rooms have recently started to possess, and you hear the relieved sigh of a freshly opened syringe before it punctures through thin metal.
You don’t remember ever having been injected with any kind of substance before, and usually your short-term memory serves you best.
“You’re going to feel so comfortable so soon, my Lovely Lily…just you wait. They have something very special planned for you…”
Against your will, your body starts shaking within your ties as the gravity of the situation sinks in, slowly, surely. This isn’t like usual, are they planning to…?
Your breathing picks up its pace, heavily heaving, out of your control.
Soft footsteps hurry back to you, coming to a stop before your body, left-hand side.
“Hey there, honey, it’s okay…come on, deep breaths, alright?”
The gentle touch of her hand cups one of your cheeks, and it feels like ages since you’ve been graced with contact to another humans’ skin. You find it hard to resist the urge to lean into it.
Her thumb plays softly, caringly with the side of your face, dragging across the parts of your cheekbone not covered with the fabric of the blindfold, humming sweetly some tune or other, vaguely familiar to you.
Her name slips past your lips, mouth still full of cloth, but she picks up on what you’re trying to get out, and a gentle chuckle, lower than her usual register, escapes her.
“I know…I got you…you know I want the best for all you pretty toys, don’t you? I want you to succeed, silly…”
You whimper, and it sounds embarrassingly pathetic even through your muzzle. You almost don’t notice the needle piercing the flesh of your left arm as she coos to you, but the surprise impact makes you wince.
You can almost physically feel the liquid introducing itself into your body, and within a second, she withdraws, not just the syringe, but also her touch.
An uncomfortable warmth floods you, your bones begin to feel like jelly, like you’re melting away in her chair.
A soft, unintentional moan of relief sounds past the fabric in your mouth as you, for the first time since your capture, feel entirely at peace. Your senses begin blurring together, it’s as if you’re starting to see noises, hear visuals, feel colors that you cannot even see.
Your skin must feel scalding hot to the touch, and when her hands touch the sides of your face to lift the blindfold obstructing your vision, they’re almost ice-cold in comparison.
At first, all you see is bright-white, glaring lights assaulting your eyes, and you blink several times to adjust your vision before she comes into view fully.
You could never forget this shock of red hair, it haunts you in your sleep, it tortures you when you’re awake, it’s burnt forever into your corneas more vivid than the faces of your parents ever were.
Your vision is blurred, you wouldn’t have expected otherwise, and it feels like the room is spinning. Everything is spinning, except for her.
Her.
Steadfast, fully in your view, no matter where you look.
It’s funny, and you giggle unabashedly, when you realize that even outside of the conditioning tapes, genuine freckles spread across her cheeks, with a backdrop of a tender rosy hue, whether make up or not, you are unable to tell.
Your eyes grow half-lidded as a weird, foreign feeling pulses through your veins.
You find yourself incapable of averting your gaze. There’s an authentic, nervously unsure smile spreading across her lips, slightly askew. Might this be new for her as well?
One of her hands carefully finds your collarbone, vaguely covered by a torn, stained tank top you call one of your only possessions in this cursed place.
Her fingers twitch against your skin, still fiercely hot, radiating heat like fire, and subtly, her teeth dig into her bottom lip, worrying it as she mulls over her next move.
You feel fuzzy. Soft. Comfortable. Safe.
Her eyes find one of the security cameras fixed to the corner of the room, before flickering back over to you.
You find yourself, against all reason, strangely enamoured by the woman who’s spent the last several months trying to brainwash you into becoming a mindless, fuzzy zombie.
That’s not…normal, is it? Do you always…feel…?
Your vision tunnels, reverts back to normal, and repeats, as your breathing picks up.
The hand grazing your skin begins moving further down your body as the woman above you snaps into her persona.
“There you are, sweetling…”
Holy shit.
You writhe against her fingers, settling just above your stomach, as you listen to her speak. Her voice has taken on a low rasp you’d never once heard before, with a hint of flirtation laced into it.
You should be unsettled.
You cannot find it within you to be.
“No, you’re fine, momma’s got you, okay?”
All you feel you have left to do is nod, pathetically, your back arching into the knuckles applying pressure to what little remains of your abs, after starving you for oh, so long.
It’s then that you notice that her signature hair tie is missing from her updo. Instead, you find her soft hair is messily curled, fully let down.
“You just need to be good, okay? Just hold still, alright honey?”
Yes. Of course. Anything, anything for this to never stop. Anything.
Two fingers curl tenderly around the absolute rag around your hips, and you at once know exactly what is happening, and not at all.
Anything besides the woman above you is barely visible, no matter how hard you try to focus on the tiles on the wall behind her, the lightswitch by the door, everything blurs together until your gaze snaps back to her, clear as day. Clearer than you’ve ever seen.
“Don’t you want to feel comfortable, sweetie? I bet you want to be so, so comfortable…”
Again, you nod. You don’t quite know why you’re playing along. You feel incapable of reasonable movement. Reasonable thought. The intense burning building up within your body clouds your mind even further. You whine. You can’t help it.
“Oh, I know, baby…” she coos, hand slipping further below, grazing a part of your body you haven’t thought about in ages.
Your hips jerk up helplessly, messily and uncoordinated, which draws a soft chuckle from her.
“Look at me, honey.”
You do.
Why do you?
“I feel warm. Don’t you feel warm?”
Once again, your head nods, almost without your permission to do so.
Of course you feel warm. You feel hot. You’re burning up, oh God.
You don’t even recognize she’s blatantly copying her original script. How could you, when what feels like neatly manicured nails are scratching at you, and you’re mentally begging yourself to snap out of it.
Her other hand finds your left cheek, her thumb once again stroking your cheekbone, while curious fingertips inch further and further towards territory you’re internally screaming she stay away from, but find yourself physically leaning into.
“I feel safe. Don’t you feel safe, baby…?”
Her voice is so deliciously low it makes you delirious, your head spinning trying to wrap around the fact of what’s happening to you. What’s done unto you.
Your head nods, wobbling back and forth under the influence of whatever is coursing through your system.
Following the slope of your pelvic bone, her fingers still, just before the brink, and, finding her gaze, you can tell her internal struggle, evident in the slight twitch of her eye before her face scrunches up for just a single second. A mix between two emotions you cannot name. You couldn’t tell a single thing right now.
You swear you can hear her curse under her breath, even lower than before, and it sends lightning bolts of electricity coursing through your body once more.
‘Please…’ you beg vaguely coherently through the fabric you’re digging your teeth into shortly after, and you don’t even know what for.
Before you know it, and could prepare for it, a middle and ring finger push into your body, crude and inexperienced, a perfect mirror to the feigned confidence drawn across her face.
Your body shudders against the metal chair you’re splayed across, your hips feel liquid as they push upward, your thighs opening up for her mindlessly.
Though you don't remember much of anything precise, or explicit from back home, you'd think this should feel differently based on prior experience outside the factory, your old life desperately trying to claw its way back to you through memory, but it only eases the fire coursing through your bloodstream. Though instantly making you crave for more of her. You don't remember what it's supposed to feel like but it isn't this. This isn't…pleasure, what is it…?
Her lips twitch as she morphs back into her carefully crafted character.
“Look at me.”
You do. Of course you do.
“Good girl, there you go…”
A faint smile flashes across her face.
“I see now that those other methods would've never worked on you…how foolish of us to assume you'd be receptive…”
It feels almost medical, the way her fingers curl up within you, and your eyes widen at the change of pace it introduces.
“You're a big girl…after all…”
You guess this makes sense. More importantly though, the way she speaks to you makes even more unbearable heat rise to your cheeks.
“Repeat after me, my Lovely Lily… I am a toy.”
Your eyes roll as a thumb pushes into the sensitized flesh outside of you, and your shoulders draw back as you arch upward.
Though muffled, you feel called to repeat it immediately and perfectly.
“I have always been a toy.”
A quickened pace. A soft, gentle smile, a hand working tirelessly to alleviate your pain.
Oh, God.
Once again, you say as you’re told, the trance-like state you’re in threatening to consume you.
You can barely even hear the pathetically graphic sounds from between your thighs. You don’t much care either way. Not with the way your skin cools, and the pressure ceases slowly but surely, and the way this frankly beautiful woman is regarding you with such earnest need to save you.
“You’re doing so, so so good…being with friends is so much fun, isn’t it, precious…?”
You nod, again and again, yes, God yes, so much fun, it’s so much fun, this is so, so much fun—
“I’m staying here forever.”
Rapidly, you nod your head. Yes! Yes of course you will always stay here, what kind of question even is that!? You repeat it like a mantra, over and over and over, as soft, gentle fingers play your body like a fiddle.
“Toys are here to be joy.”
Yes, yes, yes, you are a toy, you’ve always been a toy, you’re staying here forever, toys are here to be joy, you are joy, you are joy, you are a toy, you’re a good toy, you can be so good, show Miss Gracie what a good toy you can be–
Your brain floods. You’re not sure if much coherence is making it past your gag, with the curls of gentle fingertips coming more and more frequently, with the way each one seems to ease your pain, noises of relief pushing past your lips, she’s saving you, well and truly, how could you have ever doubted her?
“Good, good…that’s a good girl, you’re being such a good toy…you bring me so much joy, honey…”
Your wrists struggle against the ties as your body is preparing to release this uncomfortable heat, this horrendously charged energy, and you writhe under your restraints, the pretty woman’s touch…there's a heat in her eyes, egging you on. Silently begging you to snap.
An utterly guttural noise is the last thing you remember before your body seizes. Your brain feels like it’s exploding, your vision and any other sense lost, falling into a kind of void that scares you, just for a brief moment before you catch yourself.
Miss Gracie wouldn’t betray you, silly, there’s nothing to be afraid of.
And truly, in the blink of an eye, you find yourself back in reality, flesh feeling heavy on your bones, gravity pulling you down, a full-body ache settling like a blanket over you.
Had you dreamed of her inside of you? You clench, yet there’s nothing. Nothing at all.
She’s halfway on top of you, arms resting on either side of your body, smiling down at you, mellow.
Was there a reason you’d never realized how beautiful she is…?
Her hair slightly tousled, a deep flush to her cheeks, a kind of softness you aren’t used to around here.
Around her.
Shrill, high-pitched and cartoonish, there she is again, back to her same old ways, lips quirking up into an unnatural smile;
“There you are, wonderful! Wasn’t that so much fun!?”
And suddenly you cannot find it within you to object.