The "On Air" sign lights up. Sunny rises to her feet. Her busty, brainwashed bunnies help her into her jacket and settle her top hat on her head. She rewards each bunny with a kiss on the nose, yanks them out of their smooch-induced horny haze with a Snap!, and leads her entourage onto the stage.
A drum roll fills the packed auditorium and pours out of televisions, computers, and phones all over the world. The curtains rise while Sunset strolls on stage, projecting her voice far and wide with a simple wave of her arm. "Live!" She calls. "From historic Wolfe Salazar Memorial Auditorium, the scintillating sorceress, the mesmerizing magician, your hypnotic hostess for the evening, Sunny the Spectacular!" The applause light comes on, and she bows. She doffs her hat so her blazing locks can properly bounce before she rights herself. Her bunnies do the same and let their fiery braids flop in unison.
"It's lovely to see you all here for my television debut. I hope some of you are ready to be wrapped around my finger." Her hand shoots above her head and unleashes a single, powerful Snap! across the audience. A few shoulders slip and plenty of eyes flutter for a moment. "Of course, the beautiful part of this is that you get to be the stars of the show. Whoever's lucky enough to catch my attention and fall under my spell will have such a lovely time in front of so many people. They might even remember it." She chuckles. "They might even remember how good it feels to let my voice wash over their mind. They might remember the pleasure flowing from their ears, filling their head to the brim, and trickling down into their body. They might remember how they, as they lose their grip on reality and completely submit to my will, felt a moment of radiant, all-consuming bliss."
Snap!
"And sleep."
The room goes silent. A few people drop their drinks when they go limp mid-sip. A few more wave a hand in front of their neighbor's face and laugh. More still teeter on the edge of consciousness. Ten percent of the home audience just lost a few seconds. The handful of people and brainwashed Sunny bunnies who still know what's going on begin to clap. Sunny wiggles a finger, gives the audience that little "ah ah ah, not so fast" look, and starts pacing back and forth on the stage. The sound of clapping quickly gives way to the sound of footsteps. Rhythmic, evenly measured footsteps against the stage. Footsteps consistently tap-tap-tapping away. So easy to listen to, so easy to predict, and yet so difficult to think over. "Very good. Now, do we have any volunteers in the audience? Anyone who can feel me tying a helium balloon around their left wrist right now?" Snap! "Anyone who can feel it tugging their wrist upward?" Snap! "Raising their hand higher-" Snap! "-and higher-" Snap! "-above their head?"
Half a dozen hands slowly lift into the air and bob in place.
"Very good! I'd say you should give yourselves a hand, but, well." She laughs. Her bunnies join in. The less-hypnotized members of her audience get the joke and laugh along. The more-hypnotized folks laugh because Sunny is laughing, and she has such a pretty laugh, and wouldn't it feel good to laugh along with her? It feels so nice to listen to her voice, after all. To let your thoughts slip away. To let the world around you fade. You're so comfortable here in your seat.
One lucky member of the audience feels a Sunny bunny's hand rest on hers. A gentle "Good girl. Right this way." drifts in one ear and out the other while she's led on stage.
"Well, well, well. Looks like we have our first volunteer. You can Snap! put your hand down, dear." Sunny chuckles. Her volunteer's raised hand drops down to her side.
Sunny asks her her name. She responds. Sunny says it's a nice name. She'll borrow it for a while. It's one more thing she can empty from her mind. One more thing to let go of while she listens to Sunny's wonderful voice. A wonderful voice that gives her just one thing to focus on. It's so much easier to let Sunny's warm words trickle into her head and replace her thoughts.
"Cheeri. That's a nice name, isn't it? It's got a nice ring to it. Especially since it's-" Snap! "-your name. Go ahead, Cheeri dear. Introduce yourself to everyone. It's such a pretty name. Just saying it is enough to bring a smile to your face. Make sure you say it loud and proud so everyone can hear!"
A bunny holds a microphone up for Cheeri. The audience gets to watch the show's newest star blink her eyes a few times before her voice washes over the crowd. "I-I'm Cheeri?" She looks at Sunny. Sunny nods encouragingly. "Hi, everyone! I'm Cheeri! It's an honor to be here tonight on stage! I can't wait to, uh, do whatever it is I'm doing up here!"
The audience chuckles. They can see the Sunny bunny approaching from behind with a pleated skirt, a pair of pom-poms, and a midriff-bearing top perfect for cheering on whatever sports team, concept, or hypnotist you come across. And, wouldn't you know it, Cheeri's on stage with at least one of those! What a coincidence! Just like the coincidental hand on her shoulder. Or the wonderfully warm words slipping in her ear that just so happen to be identical to her thoughts. She has such nice thoughts. Thoughts like "Gosh, I'm gay for stage magicians with fiery hair.", "It'd be so fun to do a cheer for her!", and "Gosh, where are my pom-poms? How am I supposed to cheer without those?" rolled out of Sunny's mouth, through Cheeri's head, out her mouth, and into the microphone. Part of being a cheerleader is making your thoughts heard to everyone, as loud and clear as you can! That way, as many people as possible can catch the cheering spirit! There's even a few folks in the audience looking for their pom-poms, too.
Cheeri finds her uniform pressed against her chest. She takes it, of course, and looks around for somewhere to change.
"Cheeri has a wonderful body." She repeats whatever wonderfully warm words wash over her mind. "Cheeri exists to cheer up the crowd. Cheeri's body will cheer up the crowd."
Snap! "Repeat." Sunny says.
"Cheeri exists to cheer up the crowd. Cheeri's body will cheer up the crowd." Her eyes glaze over. Her mouth works on a loop. A pair of Sunny bunnies help her out of her clothes. Her shirt vanishes over her head. Her skirt drops to the ground. Even her bra and panties come off. What better way to mark who's in control than with Sunny-branded underwear, available at the merchandise stand after the show?
"Cheeri exists to cheer up the crowd. Cheeri's body will cheer up the crowd." She repeats. She's so good at repeating.
The Sunny bunny with the shirt says "Give me a Y!" Cheeri's arms shoot above her head to make her body the right shape. She broadcasts it loud and clear to the audience, and she gets a pretty good response. All while providing an good opening for a Sunny bunny to slip the shirt on over her head and steal a kiss on her cheek. A few of the other bunnies catch on and start shouting letters while Cheeri steps into her skirt. By the time Cheeri proudly calls "What's that spell? Yrfltlqb!" to roaring applause and cheers, she's dressed from head to toe as Sunny the Spectacular's perfect little cheerleader. From her bouncy ponytail, tied off with a big red ribbon, to the little puffballs on her socks, she's ready to shake her pom-poms and strut her stuff!
"Isn't she great, folks?" Sunny calls to the crowd. "Let's hear it for Cheeri!"
The crowd applauds, of course. They applaud for long enough for Sunny to slide up beside her cheerleader and start whispering in her ear. Whispering about how she loves the applause. Loves the attention. How every morsel of attention from a crowd feels so good. So wonderfully warm. How every clap brings her deeper and deeper under Sunny's spell. How it feels so good to submit, to fall deeper, to let your mind vanish under that lovely sound. Good cheerleaders don't need to think, after all. They just have to let the cheer spirit take them!
The applause dies down. Cheeri leans against Sunny for support while she's out of her gourd on hypnotic bliss. "Thank you, thank you. Now, doesn't Cheeri look lonely up on this big stage? I think she could use a friend, don't you?" She says to nobody in particular. Cheeri tries to nod and winds up flopping her head onto Sunny's shoulder. "Do I have any volunteers to be the next star of Sunny the Spectacular's Super Showcase?"
A different set of hands go up. A few are more awake. A few are far, far deeper in trance. A few have just seen what happened on stage and are wishing so dearly that it'd happen to them. And one cocky blonde making an awful lot of eye contact with the hypnotist. One whose vibrant violet eyes demanded attention. One who stood up and walked towards the stage without even being called up.
"You, with the pink streak and the pretty pendant. You'll do." Sunny motioned her up, and a bunny barnacled herself onto her arm. Ever the entertainer and skilled in the art of horny improv, it took more than a confident volunteer to break her stride. The headstrong ones are much more fun to twist. Sunny whispers a few conspiratorial words in a Sunny bunny's ear- a real one, not the big, floppy cloth ones poking up through her blazing hair- and turns her attention to the oh-so-eager prey climbing onto the stage. She produces the microphone once more and asks "So, dear, would you like to tell us your name? You might need help remembering it afterwards." She chuckles.
"What's up, I'm Grace, I'm a self-replicating tangle of information that's existed in one form or another since time immemorial, and I never fucking learned how to read."
A Sunny bunny returns from backstage, pushing a chair adorned with a pair of big, plush paws, a round silver bell hanging from a collar, and a blonde cat ear headband. Sunny scoops them up with one hand and gestures to the seat with other. "Have a seat, dear. This'll be fun, we don't get many comedians on stage. You're not allergic to cats, are you?"
"I don't have the biological machinery that would cause me to be allergic to things." Grace sits and crosses one leg over the other. "But I'm sure a talented hypnotist could change that. It would be pretty funny to get me walking around the stage, sneezing every time I got close to you."
Sunny laughs, which means her bunnies and audience laugh along with her. "Ooh, so close, but so far." Sunny flicks her wrist and produces a gold coin on a chain. She sets it dangling in the light so her prey can see the shimmering sun sign expertly engraved into both sides. "Don't worry, dear. Nobody's right all the time. Why don't you take a little break from thinking up snappy comebacks for a while?" She sets the coin swinging and shimmering in the stage lights. Its golden glint shines with Sunny's seductive flame. It demands Grace's attention the way a firework does. Swooping across the sky, then dazzling its audience with a brilliant array of colors.
"That's a good, pretty kitty." Sunny coos into Grace's ear. "Pretty kitties don't have to think. Pretty kitties don't have to worry. Pretty kitties just have to listen to Sunny for a little bit. How does that sound, pretty kitty?" She's laying it on so thick. Her words drip with every ounce of hypnotic honey she can muster. Nobody upstages Sunny the Spectacular.
"If I'm the pretty kitty, why do you have the collar?"
Sunny blinked a few times. She's used to cute, mushy, halfhearted "noooooos" while they melt into a puddle in her hands. A pointed question in riposte is enough to give her paws. Grace is on her feet and massaging the hypnotist's soft new beans. "You've got the collar and the big, bappy paws. What else does a soft, sunny kitty need?" She paces back and forth in front of Sunny and the audience, drumming her fingers against her chin while the cat ear headband dangles from her other hand.
Sunny stared at her while she paced back and forth. Her eyes locked on the headband. She pawed at the top of her own head experimentally. "Meow."
"What's that, pretty kitty? See something you like?" Grace turns on her heel. She dangles the headband from her finger. The fake triangular ears practically glow under the stage lights. "Go ahead, dear. Use your words."
"Meow. Nya nya nya nya. Meeeeeeow." Sunny baps at the headband, then the top of her head.
Grace looks at the pair of cat ears dangling from her finger. "Oh, is this what you want?" She coos. "These cute little kitty ears for the prettiest kitty I know?"
Sunny turns her nose up and paws at the chair a little. She stares at the headband out of the corner of her eye. Her butt shakes to get that good, haughty invisible tail swish going.
"Well, she'd hardly be a catgirl without the attitude." Grace laughs, and the audience laughs with her. A single finger scratches under Sunny's chin. The flaming catgirl cranes her neck, slowly closes her eyes, and begins to purr.
"Isn't she a dear? I think she's earned the ears, don't you?" She turns to the crowd. They cheer and applaud for the pretty kitty. Sunny purrs even more now. It feels good to be the center of attention. She's so pretty and shiny and she's doing such a good job, after all. She's looking so good on stage, she's so good at listening to Grace, and it's only gonna get easier with her brand new ears!
The ears go on, and, sure enough, it's much, much easier to hear Grace Snap! her fingers and tell her to sleep.
She falls limp instantly.
The crowd is silent, aroused, and starting to realize what's going on here. Most stage hypnosis shows don't include a coup, and yet, here we are. There's some scattered applause because, well, she's bowing and that was pretty impressive.
"Thank you, thank you." Grace stands up from her big, exaggerated bow. "For my next trick, I'm going to make my assistant disappear!" The Sunny bunnies exchange glances and wonder if one of them should stand up. Grace answers the question by taking Sunny's chin and cooing to her. "How does that sound, dear? A trick with Princess's pretty kitty?"
Sunny's silly smile stretches ever wider. "Nya." She nods.
"This isn't any old disappearing act, though." Grace stands up straight, addressing the audience with practiced patter. "The cat formerly known as Sunny the Spectacular will vanish before your very eyes, but she will be replaced with yours truly."
A Sunny bunny wonders out loud if it's really a disappearing act if nothing actually disappears. A moment of eye contact and a snap of Grace's fingers makes sure she won't wonder about anything for a few hours.
Grace stands behind Sunny's seat. A flourishing flick of the wrist shakes a clutch of cables into existence. "Nothing up my sleeve." She jokes. A few laughs bubble up from the audience. She leans in nice and close. Her lips are mere inches from Sunny's ear, One of her human ears, even. "You're going to feel a slight pinch, then a sensation not unlike having a living computer virus downloaded into your brain and genes. From what I hear from me, it feels wonderful."
The cables jack in to the back of her neck. Sunny's breath catches in her throat. A little yelp, then a big, deep moan. Grace, satisfied with her work, stands up straight and helps herself to Sunny's hat. It looks better on her anyways. "Now, ladies, gentlemen, and those of us who know better, watch closely. Before your very eyes, Sunny the Spectacular will be replaced! Transformed! Twinned!"
A brilliant pink bolt of bliss shoots down the cable and into Sunny's spine. Her back arches. Her eyes roll backwards into her head. The crowd stares transfixed at the pink lighting arcing all over Sunny's body. It bleaches the red from her hair and leaves a shock of pink over her left eye. An eye that swirled and shifted from Sunny cyan to Graceful green. Even the cat ears blend in beautifully with her new blonde locks.
Her suit stays the same, even after the rest of the transformation sweeps over her body. The audience stares. Transfixed, aroused, and hanging on Grace's every word. The Grace with the hat, that is. The freshly minted Grace is still slumped over in her seat, trying to make sense of the all the new gay thoughts tumbling through her head. Grace Prime steps forward, takes her cute little copy's hand, and tugs her to her feet. Momentum swings the newest Grace around and lands her firmly in Prime's clutches.
"I do hate to toot my own horn. It's why I'm a hypnotist- I can make other people do it for me." She lifts her hand up high and snaps her fingers over her head. Every head in the audience jerks up in unison. She cups the brand new Grace's chin and angles her neck up just enough to make eye contact. "So, dear, what do you think?"
"I look and feel amazing, Princess!" She tells the crowd. "I think everyone should get to experience the unfettered bliss that is being under your spell!"
"Is that so, dear? Think you still have enough magic to make that happen?"
"Anything for you, Princess!" She waves her hands over her head. Trails of pink, glittering circuitry trace a path that would once have been filled by flame. "Ladies and ladies-to-be! For the first time on television or anywhere, may I present Princess Grace's Cascading Copy Creation Charm!" The corrupted, calculating magical power stirs, grows, and glows until a brilliant wave of cognitohazardous energy sweeps over the audience, though the cameras, and into countless homes across the world. The two Graces on stage fill the air with their very best villainous cackle. They're soon joined by the Graceful bunnies on stage, the studio audience, and so many eager new faces across the world. Hair turns a brilliant blonde, stabbed through with streaks of pink. Breasts sprout, butts grow, and one particularly villainous virus propagates.
Grace Prime retires backstage with half a dozen of her favorite new Graces, including the one she's pretty sure used to be Sunny. The name on the dressing room door has already been changed. She helps herself to the remaining reserves of magical power and rewards the ex-magician with a kiss. "Good girl. If you hadn't played your part so perfectly, I wouldn't have anywhere near this much reach. Huge swaths of the world are now safely in my clutches, and it's all thanks to you."
"Only because I'm a copy of you, my perfect princess!"
Arousing Sunny's Mesmerizing Recitations ↩
And, crucially, a hidden camera whirs to life, peering through the strings in her guitar bat. Halfway across the city, a monitor clicks on. The electron gun in an aging CRT dutifully reproduces the Spies home run idol in night vision green. A few keystrokes later, and a livestream begins on ████tube.co█.
Miki blows a kiss to the hidden camera. She's dressed in her traditional blaseball outfit. Her custom snapsides cap lets her twintails dangle freely. Her uniform is padded around the chest to make her bust look bigger, and the steel blades lining the hem of her skirt give it the weight it needs to really show off Miki's lack of underwear whenever she spins. Unless you count the cyan ribbon tied in a cute little bow around her cock as "underwear".
And Miki loves to spin. She'll twirl on her heel while figuring out what to say after "Gosh, blaseball fans, I sure did strike out a lot today. I wonder what my punishment should be?" She'll twirl around to break the lock on the cheerlorder uniform storage with a perfectly whistled 2581 Hz1 tone, then return with one in her size. She even twirls while unbuttoning the top from her blaseball uniform so the force throws it across the room. She makes a big show out of blowing a kiss to it and waving good-bye as her top sails offscreen. Her skirt falls to the floor and Miki sends it flying by kicking her left leg clear over her head. If you're watching the stream and wanted Miki Santana's cock front, center, and dripping, you got your wish. She unwraps this first little present to the fans with a single, effortless tug. "Do you like it? I got it just for you!"
She holds the cheerlorder outfit against her chest. She twirls around to demonstrate the flowing nature of the outfit. Dark, flowing robes with SPIES printed across the chest in big block letters. The sort of outfit one might expect from a spy or a cultist. "Hmmm, maybe I would make a better cheerlorder? I've been such a bad batter." She throws her hip out to the side and taps her finger against her chin. She steps into the skirt and slowly pulls it up over her legs. The waistband rises up until it catches against her cock and ass. Another twirl to make sure everyone watching gets a 360 degree view of her upright, dripping cock and the ass spilling over the waistband. "Oops, guess this one's too small." The skirt slowly slides over her hips. A few drops of precum drip onto the skirt, an exaggerated moan fills the air, and everything below her waist vanishes. Well, except for the tent she's pitching. There's not a robe flowing enough to hide how aroused Miki is at this moment.
Miki pretends to have a similarly hard time getting the top over her chest. She spends like five minutes acting like she can't quite get the top over her modestly-sized chest and filling the Spies locker room with musical moans before finally tugging the top on and adjusting her twintails back into place.
Little known blaseball fact: cheerlorder skirts are adjustable by tugging at a hidden length of razor wire spiraling up its length. Perfect for stunts, playful on-field fights, and, in this case, Miki Santana shedding a full two feet of material and twirling around in a skirt so mini, you can absolutely see the tip of her cock dribbling precum onto the floor. "Much better." She tosses a wink at the hidden camera and grabs a blaseball bat from offscreen.
"Alexandriaaaah~" She grinds the bat between her thighs. Her big hazel eyes water and snap shut. Being overwhelmed with bliss does that to you. "A-Alex! Alex! She's the best! Slug your hands against my chest! Grope me hard and fuck my ass, take this cheerful slut to class! Teach me how to bat like you, fuck me 'til I can't come to! Goooooo, Spies!" Miki's panting and cheering echoes off the smooth locker room walls. There's not a quiet square inch in the whole facility while she grinds herself ever closer to orgasm against her teammate's bat.
She pins one of her twintails against the locker room bench with her foot and mashes the other one against the ground with her bat. Her breaths get shorter. "T-tug my hair and yank it hard! Make me sing like I'm your bard! Force my ass over your dick or fuck my throat- please take your pick! Goooooo Spiaaaahahn~!" And that's all it takes for her to collapse into an orgasm-wracked mess on the floor, uselessly humping the bat between her legs to eke out just a few more moments of bliss.
As the live stream fades to black on Miki Santana, lying in a pool of her own cum, she chants out a surprisingly clear, final "Always Watching! Goooo Spies!"
Miki Santana staged an incineration on day 76 of Season 3. Rumor has it she skipped town under a false name and is enjoying herself on a beach somewhere.
Miki Santana, like most blaseball stars, had a troubled road to the big leagues. I dare you to be the alleged daughter of two renowned, blaseball gods-fearing musicians and not develop perfect pitch2 before you skip town at night with a one way bus ticket to Houston. ↩
"Perfect pitch" as in the music thing. Miki is a lousy blaseball pitcher. ↩
The intercom crackled and surged with electricity. A familiar face crawls out of the speaker. Followed by a familiar head of blonde hair, a familiar pink streak over one eye, a familiar black bow, a familiar parasol, and the familiar flowing black ball gown, wreathed with ribbons, cables, and circuitry that could only belong to Modemoiselle herself. She shakes her down cascade onto her shoulders. A few errant arcs of pink lightning arc between her locks. She sits atop the desk, one leg crossed over the other. Boot tapping against her captive's leg. "Well, well, well. If it isn't…" She plucks the unused ceramic coffee mug from its nest of takeout coffee cups. "Number one boss?" She shakes her head.
Her boot heel digs into her target's awfully vulnerable groin. D-did she always have a bulge down there? And did it always feel s-so good when a supervillain ground her heel against it, sending waves of circuitry pulsing across her exquisitely tailored suit?
Modemoiselle's finger swipes across the mug's surface. "Boss" vanishes to the left, and "pet" swoops in from the right. "Hmm, no, you're not really a pet, are you?" She smiles a devious smile and keeps swiping. "Slut?" She smiles at her captive. Watching her squirm and kick uselessly against her bonds. "What's wrong, dear? Can't break a few simple ribbons? I know you love how they feel against your skin. Too enchanted by my mere presence, perhaps, to even raise a finger against Miss Modemoiselle, The Grand Dame of the Grid?" She extends a black gloved finger and presses it against her quarry's chin. The ribbons tighten. Mmmph, they do feel good. Impossibly soft, even as they help Modemoiselle invade your mind and corrupt every thought of escape into 'fuck, I'm so horny for supervillains, like always.'" Modemoiselle's finger digs into her captive's chin and forces her to make eye contact.
"You're a smart girl. You went to…" Another ribbon lashes out from that fancy office chair. This time, it snatches the diploma off the wall. "Brown. Jeez, way to pick the hardest Ivy to tease you about." She drops it and lets the glass shatter on the floor.
"But that was always your perogative, wasn't it? Always playing it safe. The safest school, the safest career, the easiest money." She's back at the mug again. Swiping from "pet" to "harem dancer" to "onahole" to "sex doll", making sure her victim gets an eyeful of each. "The meekest secretary who's too afraid of losing her job to turn down your advances. Maybe we should see how you like it." She swishes the mug to say "Number One Secretary."
The captive's breathing gets heavier.
"Now as for the nameplate, how long does it take to get a new one of these ordered?"
The ribbons get tighter.
"Sorry, two new ones ordered. One for me, one for my brainwashed little fuck typist."
Too tight.
"Oh, look at me, fussing like some useless exec who doesn't know how to type, much less what the company actually does."
The ribbons begin to tear.
"I'm sure I can issue some useless strategy memos that my underlings will use to bludgeon the real workers into compliance with their own petty goals."
A blinding flash of light vaporizes the chair and the ribbons. New pink ones fly in from every corner of the room, twirling around what was once Modemoiselle's captive, and is now a spinning blob of girl-shaped transformation sequence summoning the powers of goodness, light, and ribbons to bear against her foe. Her plain brown hair explodes into chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry streaks, promptly tamed by a flowing pink ribbon tying itself into a neat little bow. Pretty standard magical girl stuff, you see a lot of it in the mid to high fantasy villainy business.
"In the name of all that is good and right, Ribbonmancer will never cease to fight, fight, fight!" The light fades. Instead, the same person stands. Her tailored suit transformed into pure light, and now into a tight white top with a big pink ribbon covering her breasts. A too-short black pleated skirt and a pair of panties are the only thing separating her new bulge from the world. She twirls her wand between her white gloved fingers and levels it at the dastardly supervillain who defaced her mug.
"I coulda sworn you had a better battle cry than that. It sounds like a high school fight song."
"I didn't get to pick it, it's the Sacred Oath of the Seamstress's Sanctum." She flicks her wrist, sending infinite lengths of pink ribbon flying out from every direction. Modemoiselle lept backwards off the desk, still holding the Number One Secretary mug.
"I thought you looked better in the suit." Modemoiselle effortlessly twirls out of the way of every ribbon. She'll sidestep one, walk up another, then hook a third with the coffee mug handle and zipline down the length. "But, well, the slutty sailor scout cheerleader is a good look, too. Come on, say the thing again, but this time, stick a 'goooo team!' at the end." A flick of her wrist twists a length of ribbon into a perfect pom-pom shape, knotted around one of Ribbonmancer's hands.
"We arrested you last night! You should be rotting in jail!"
"Finally, someone gets it. You should tell your bird friend about that so she doesn't make a fool of herself when a supervillain puts her into a brainwashing dream pod and turns her into a brainwashed little pony named… oh, I don't know…"
"Clop Star?" A third voice echoes from the other side of the intercom.
"Ravenna?" Ribbonmancer's attention snaps to the speaker on the desk. "What did she do to you? What did she do to us?"
"What do you think, Star? Does that count? Did she get it before you?"
"It doesn't count if you had to explain the whole plan to her before she got it. At least Bird Brain remembered the dream bomb." The pony pouts from over the intercom.
"You're right. It was my fault for expecting more from an MBA." Modemoiselle nods.
"Hey!"
"Oh, I've been calling you a useless drain on society since I got here, but that's the last straw? Come on, dear, at least pick the right battle." She shakes her head. "Tell you what. I'll forget all about it if we can hear that cheer. I know you have it in you- I wrote the program myself." Modemoiselle swipes the text on the mug a few more times until it says "Number One Cheerleader".
New thoughts pour in through the magical girl's ears. Intoxicating music piercing straight through her mind. Entire lobes of her brain light up for their singular purpose. Her hips swivel and shake back and forth, powered by the rhythms borrowing her body and twisting her to Modemoiselle's villainous whims. She twirls on her toe and summons another ribbon pom-pom to match the one currently imprisoning her hand.
"In the name of all that's good and right! Ribbonmancer will fight! fight! fight!"
The ribbons start to shift. Pink gives way to black and green. Circuitry starts to replace the veins in her eyes. The poor thing struggles against the music rending her thoughts to pieces. Fists clenching. Body twisting. Brand new cock leaking right into her extremely visible panties.
"Better do what it says, dear. It'll just get stronger and stronger until you give in~" Modemoiselle idly pretends to inspect her nails through her gloves. "I wrote more cheers for you, and it'd be awfully rude to refuse to recite them for the supervillain who's currently up to her elbows in your brain. You'd look cute with your brain melted into a singing, dancing puddle, but I have bigger plans for you." The coffee mug dangles from her index finger while she leans forward onto her palms. All too happy to simply sit and watch the show.
"Miss Modemoiselle, please own my mind! This dumb cheerleader's in a bind! I can't think and I can't drive! My brain is ribbons, I'll be eaten alive! Take pity on this capitalist slut and let her show off her perfect butt!"
Every rhyming pair only feeds the music pulsing a circuit heart-shaped hole through her mind. But no hero would go down without one last-ditch effort to save herself. She had to be using that mug for something. It was her only weak point. Her body twirls, springs, and shakes from side to side, as is natural when being turned into a cheerleader by brainwashing music hooked directly up to your head through the dream pod being controlled by a supervillain. One of her wrists flicks outside of the prescribed routine. What a breach in protocol! What will Miss Modemoiselle say? The ribbon pom-pom on that hand unfurls, sending one lashing directly at the coffee mug.
"Ooh, I love the spunk, dear, but bad choice~" Modemoiselle lets the mug slip off her finger. The ribbon entangles her wrist, but it's too late. The mug tumbles down, down, down onto that fancy hardwood floor you insisted on, and it
shatters.
The sound of breaking ceramic echoes to and from every direction. The office facade falls away to reveal… well, nothing, really. An endless void stretching in every direction. Empty, save for Modemoiselle and a naked Ribbonmancer. The music in her head has subsided, but so has everything else.
"You really thought that shattering the thing that represented your brain was going to help you in the dream world? Haven't you seen, like, any fiction? Or had someone explain the concept of a metaphor to you?"
"Fine." Ribbonmancer crosses her arms, calling up a few winding ribbons- in Modemoiselle's colors instead of her usual pink, of course- to cover her breasts and new cock. Out of habit, really. And she only knows how to tie them in big, bouncy bows, so that's what's going on with the naked Ribbonmancer situation. "You win, what was I supposed to do?"
"Dear, look at you." Modemoiselle snaps her gloved fingers. A sleek, human-sized, curved glass pod rises from the void. Inside is Ribbonmancer, still wearing her suit, headphones clamped to her ears, and staring at a hacked black ribbon over her eyes that's keeping her nice and under the supervillain's spell. "Did you really think you could think your way out of this one? You couldn't even think your way out of 'maybe my greedy, destructive business tactics are causing more harm than my heroing is doing good', much less 'capitalism is a prison'. Even if I did set up a puzzle box for you with some chance of escape, I don't think you'd get it. Why would I risk breaking up my matching set?"
"So all of us are…"
"In pods like this! Well, except for the one you already met. She's currently… hang on." Modemoiselle vanishes for a moment as she jacks out of the dream pod. She reappears a moment later. "…Practicing a musical number. She pushed me out of her room with her hooves and said it was a surprise for me and that I can't listen until it's done."
"She's also currently a horse."
"That she is! So, how are you doing?"
"Cold, naked, and brainwashed, apparently."
"Oh, don't worry, dear." Modemoiselle smiles. White coffee mug shards zoom from all corners of the void. "You're going to get much more brainwashed than this." The mug reassembles in her hand, still on 'cheerleader'. A few swipes of her finger set it back to 'secretary'. She sets it on top of the pod. The thick pink fog inside thickens. The music returns to the hero's head, even stronger than before. The hacked ribbon currently beaming thoughts into her brain kicks into overdrive.
Ribbonmancer can see the outlines of spirals drilling deeper and deeper into her brain, and she's starting to realize that it's good? That the machine wrapped around her cock and programmed to deliver perfect pleasure straight to her brain makes it hard to think about anything else? That Miss Modemoiselle was right all along? That her tongue is rolling out of her mouth, and her eyes want to roll up into her head? That Miss Modemoiselle's fingers are combing through her hair right now and a single tug would send her over the edge?
"You know, dear, I bet if you begged me, I'd tug your hair like the slut you are and shatter your mind into a trillion pieces." Modemoiselle gingerly collects strands of Neapolitan hair into her hand. Putting just a little pressure on. Barely enough to get her toy's breath quivering. "But with how rude you've been, you're going to have to wow me."
"P-please, Mode-"
"Miss Modemoiselle." A snap of Modemoiselle's fingers forces the words to catch in her throat. "Haven't you ever begged before? Make me want to assimilate you. Here, I'll even give you a hand, since we all know that capitalism and being a corporate stooge chokes out innovation."
A simple stool rises from the depths and bumps against her butt.
Ribbonmancer looks down, then up. She sits down. It's cold. Modemoiselle smiles and nods. "Now what?"
She looks unsure. She calls another ribbon up and lets it tie her legs together. Nice and tight, with a big ol' bow. Black ribbons with Modemoiselle's circuitry pulsing down their length. Tingly against her skin. Perfectly packaged for Miss Modemoiselle. Bound up, at her mercy, presenting yourself to her for her to use for whatever evil scheme she dreams up…
She barely needs the encouragement to continue. She binds her hands behind her back. The ribbons around her breasts fall away and retie themselves into a figure-eight knot. She ties her cock up with a neat little bow, a touch of pressure so she's hard and ready for action whenever Miss wishes. One last ribbon snakes around her mouth and seals it off. She looks up at Modemoiselle expectantly.
"Much better. Was that so hard?" Her boot's pressing against that cute little gift-wrapped cock again. Ribbonmancer's eyes roll back into her head and her mouth ribbon muffles a moan.
Modemoiselle levels a loaded parasol at her bound bounty. "You know what this is full of, right?"
She nods.
"And you want me to spray you with it, I bet."
She nods.
"Even though this much at this range will let me sculpt your brain however I wish?"
She nodnodnods.
"And I'm going to take over your company, use its resources to help as many people as possible, all while you're my brainwashed secretary?"
Nodnodnodnodnodnodnodnod.
Psssh~ Thick pink smoke envelops her face. Her eyes roll back into her head. Modemoiselle, as promised, gives her hair a mighty yank! and the poor thing moaned so hard, Clop Star could hear it from her room in the real world.
"Aww, hypnoslut's first orgasm." Modemoiselle does not stop pulling, and the girl formerly known as Ribbonmancer does not stop coming. "Don't worry, dear. There's more where that came from during every step of your training."
Poor thing was too busy having pleasure centers she didn't even know about turned all the way up to really process what Miss Modemoiselle was monologuing at her about. Too busy having her brain reduced to its base components. Too busy being smashed to pieces so it could be rebuilt. And far too horny to realize the dream world metaphor Modemoiselle was going for with the mug.
Soon, the vicious viral vixen vanished. The pod kicked into overdrive, stretching its captive's perception of time to run her through countless training exercises. Exactly how Miss Modemoiselle likes her coffee1. Where every file and record is kept2 and how Miss Modemoiselle likes them presented to her3. And what happens when Miss Modemoiselle says "Showtime"4. All pulsed to the bedrock of her brain, where things like "kissing girls is good" and "water is wet, but not as wet as I am when Miss Modemoiselle looks me in the eyes" live.
"The report on my brainwashing and time in the pod, Miss Modemoiselle." Her heels click and clack against the ground. Same expensive suit as before, but pulsing with circuitry, tastefully accented with corrupted ribbons, and adjusted to show off her new curves. The walls lined with computers and pulsing circuitry, dusted by three Murdermaids sitting on each other's shoulders and working in parallel. Modemoiselle herself has her boots kicked up on the table, allowing her secretary to sneak a peak up her skirt. She does, of course.
"And~?"
Three minidiscs clatter onto the desk. "Perfect as always, Miss Modemoiselle. You're far too brilliant to allow some ungrateful hero to ruin your plans."
"And~?"
"Any time you want to kick your feet up on a different desk, the old office has been done up to your liking and awaiting your masterful direction."
"And~?"
"Would you like to adjust my body and mind more to your liking? You did a perfect job the first time around, but I know how you love to tinker."
"That I do, dear. Go check on the rest of the pods and practice your cheers with your pony friend. She said you were a little flat last time."
Her heels clicked off, her hips swayed just like how Miss Modemoiselle liked, and the halls echoed with the beeping of pods, the knocking on glass, and, soon, the distant practicing of cheers with a pony.
Fuck, it's good to be a villain.
She doesn't, she prefers soda. ↩
In the computer. ↩
You fanning out some disks on her desk, delivering a brief oral report, and asking if Miss would like to brainwash you into anything. A folder stuffed with papers if you need something that thuds on the table, but you don't have to print anything on them. ↩
[data missing] ↩
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~"
]]>A bubble of drool collected on her lip while Adder's grip tightened around her body. Her brand new headset played notes tailored just for her brain into those cute little ears. A technopath like Adder knew just the right way to tweak a good girl's neurons.
Just the right way to channel her thoughts towards something cuter. No more silly superhero. Much more interested in pom-poms and pleated skirts.
"Adder! Adder! My electric queen! Everyone knows what I mean!"
]]>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!"
]]>