capnomonkeys

[capnomonkeys]

The Stranger By Your Side

You stirred awake, eyes heavy, mind groggy. Reaching out to scratch your arm, you bumped into something warm. Someone.

You turned your head. There I was, lying beside you, asleep, looking utterly at peace.

But… who was I?

Your pulse quickened. You were certain you’d never seen me before. So why was I here, in your bed? You felt hazy, not hungover exactly, but… off. Disoriented. Had you been drinking last night?

Phone. Check your phone.

You snatched it up, swiping through notifications. Dozens of missed messages from your friends. But then, one conversation stood out. A number not saved. No photo.

You opened it.

Your stomach twisted.

Videos. Dozens of them. Each showing you staring blankly into a swaying green crystal, lips moving as you recited strange, mindless mantras. The voice guiding you was feminine, soft, familiar now that you heard it again in your memory, the one holding the phone.

Pictures, too. Your own skin scrawled in lipstick: good toy. mindless slave. Spirals drawn across your chest and thighs. Images of you on all fours in front of a glowing spiral on your TV, eyes glassy and lost.

You couldn’t remember any of it.

Scrolling further back, you found more, months of conversations. Thousands of texts. Countless photos, countless clips. Encounters, trances, nights you had lived and forgotten.

It hit you with sick certainty: you weren’t free. You’d been conditioned. Brainwashed. Programmed to obey, programmed to forget.

You swallowed hard. You needed to do something. You had a window now, your memory clear. You had to leave a warning for yourself, something to break the cycle before you forgot again.

And then, a voice.

Warm. Familiar. Shattering you like glass under heat.

“You’re already awake?”

Your body melted. Your mind, what remained of it, liquefied. Resistance drained like water from cupped hands.

“Yes, miss…” you murmured, lips betraying you before your brain caught up.

“What are you doing?” My tone teased, curious.

“I… I was trying to leave a warning,” you confessed helplessly. “So when you go, and I forget this, I won’t fall back into trance again…”

The truth spilled from you easily, automatically. You wanted to obey. You had to obey.

“But you don’t want that, do you?” I pouted, mock-hurt.

“No, miss,” you whispered, voice soft, trembling with sincerity. “I want to be your toy.”

A smile curved my lips.

“Good toy. I think I’ll brainwash you a little more before I leave… just to make sure you don’t get any silly ideas like that again. Does that sound nice?”

Your chest rose and fell, shuddering. Relief, arousal, surrender blending into one.

“Yes, miss.”

[capnomonkeys]

The Way She Polishes my Heart

A short story showcasing the daily life of a living statue, and its view on things. Click below to read the full story.

A soft breeze… I feel… Caressing me gently. The sun light… Creeping in. Feeling my eyes, bringing me to see. And see I do, and what I see is myself once again, my reflection right in front of me. I let my eyes roll over myself once more, appreciating my body. My features. And of course, my pedestal. The pedestal my Mistress choose for me, and I'm never getting off it, for I am my Mistress' most prized work of art.

My eyes goes on, rolling over me, over my body, that fire I once felt is still there, deep inside my chest. But now it's under control, for it's a fire only for my Mistress. But still, when my exposed body meets my eyes, the fire threats to burn, to burn away at all my emotions, to make me crave attention, to crave everyone's eyes. And all I can do is keep looking at myself, as I can't move, I can't help it but appreciate myself, my rigid, stone body. That is right, I am my Mistress' statue.

On top of the pedestal I stood, with my feet next to each other and my legs straight, slightly leaning forward, my arms invite the fictional viewer to an imaginary dance. Some days I'm exposed fully, with just my Mistress' jewelry gifts to cover me, but today I had something else entirely. My feet each had boots covering them, with a long shaft, the collar nears my knees, decorated all the way down with laces, holding the tongue in place. The boots were dyed a dark red colour, my Mistress said red is just my colour and I must agree with her. Going up over my body there is my new body suit, also red in colour, it covers from my between legs to my chest, leaving both of them and my tummy to my viewer's imagination. Well, not much really as the suit firmly embraces my body, taking kindly to it's shape, almost betraying it's function as cover by giving out the curves of my chest, my nipples, even my tummy's and vulva. Betraying the secret of my nipple rings, and my red gem above my vulva. Everything is seen but not seen at the same time. My arms are not covered but instead are adorned with various jewelry, all silver in colour forming the illusion of a long sleeve going all the way to the rings in my fingers back to my shoulder and the collar in my neck. On my head lies my silver tiara, now complemented by a new, long ribbon "tied" to my stone hair.

Even though today I'm facing the mirror, there are days my Mistress allows me to face her workshop, and I get to see her work. Today I can only hear and imagine, but I have seen her work on various projects, ranging from her own works on sculptures to even mentoring others at their own works. My thoughts are interrupted by a feeling… A most familiar feeling enveloping my legs… It's my Mistress, her arms are wrapped over me, gently resting herself on top of me. I tried to look down to see her, is she tired? "Ah, my precious statue, I am sorry for startling you. May I rest for a bit here at your glorious presence?" She giggles to herself, as I can't really answer her, but of course she can, she always may rest on me always use me for what she needs, I'm hers. "Thank you, dear… I will… Just a moment…" And there she stays, gently leaned against me, my stiff legs can take her, it's not as my Mistress is putting any force against me, even now she still handles me with care. But still… I feel her… I feel her against me… Pressed… My boots… All of her feelings… my mind drifts off.

Some time later I begin to see again, this time I see my Mistress in front of me, or rather, in front of the mirror. She seems to be doing some final adjustments to her outfit, perhaps she be going out again, she didn't say what it is, though. But I don't have to know, if my Mistress is happy then so I shall be, and I see the smile on her face, with a small peek through the mirror's reflection I see her smile, I see just how rested she looks, ready to face another day. And I know it's thanks to me, her prized statue, she may always lean on me when she needs a little step back to push forward. But as her gaze fades… So does my presence… But soon, I'll be back into her eyes… Into her gaze… Time doesn't pass when I'm not seen, and soon everything is still. Even my mind and thoughts go… Blank. In a relief from my own existence. Back when I was alive I had always been rather… Active or so to speak. Doing tasks and helping around. I always had my Mistress' priorities as my own. She gave me a life and I was grateful for her, still am, always will be. I always had her in my mind, never a minute to spare. But now, all goes quiet, my mind rests, my existence rests until it's needed again. Her prized statue is here, waiting patiently, waiting even after I could not. Waiting to serve. Waiting to service. Always ready. Existence as a statue is peaceful. One where I am here only when I really am needed, and needed I am. For my Mistress' eyes, for her gaze, to satisfy her, to please her, to serve her, to support her. To be her statue.

My eyes meets my Mistress', she is back to her workshop. With a smile she greets me, and following behind her is someone else. At first I paid them no mind, it could be just someone for a meeting with her, and as all of them do, when they do see me seeing I'm often kept just for my Mistress' eyes, they compliment me. Though I pay them no mind, often they only say words to please my Mistress, for she is a renowned artist and professional, there are always those trying to get into her good side. But something seemed different this time. They were made to sit in a chair in the middle of the workshop, all for me to see, it seems. With a side view of the scene I could see both of them, the person, and my Mistress in front of them. She had her sculpting tools ready, and her work attire. And at once she began. I could hear them. Her words. Her commands. I couldn't make out them but I could hear them. Her words spiralling inside my mind. Holding my attention. My mind was quickly taken by each and every of her spoken commands. All I had to do is obey my Mistress, as I always do, as I always did, pay attention to her, to all she was doing, to everything in her. This feeling of obedience I always had in my heart, and it always swells when I hear her voice. Just as it did when my Mistress turned me. The fateful day I turned into her prized statue. And then another command. I see her working. The person in front of her completely still. They don't move, they don't react. They are still, just like me, obeying obediently. I know what comes next, and before I could even think it, it happened. The person's feet began to turn, to loss it's color, but unlike me it turned white, a perfectly smooth white. And the white went on, climbing the person's body, an inch at time, slowly overtaking the colour of life in their body. I hadn't realised, but they really were naked before me, and I see their legs, now completely white, completely smooth. And soon their tummy, then their torso. Their flat tummy almost shines in it's smoothness, where I close enough I could perhaps see my reflection in it. I try to see it, admiring the person's tummy, as the transformation takes hold of them. Climbing even higher reaching their chest. Then their arms and finally their hands. I take a good look at their hands, their delicate fingers, the gentle form, for a moment I'm taken by it's definitive beauty. I know what this is, it's an artist's hand, and just like my Mistress they too have beautiful hands. Oh, my Mistress' hands, to feel her touch, to feel her fingers on me, caressing me. Before I realised, the person has been completely turned into a marble statue, though I had not seen it, their head and hair was solid and smooth now as well. This statue had a beautiful balance to it, a balance between curves and lines, of voluptuous and flat.

My admiration is cut short when I noticed my Mistress walking around, she brought back a pedestal, not too unlike my own, and with it she began working. I had little attention to the hows of it, admiring the new statue instead, but soon it was on top of the pedestal. Standing in place with it's right hand gently tucked beneath it's hair, and left hand resting near its thigh. A simple pose but perfect for gazing at the statue's beauty. But soon enough my Mistress began wrapping it in a box, and sealed away from my eyes it was. With a smirk she says "it's off to the museum with this one." I see it now, so it was a commission after all. "They were really excited to be a statue as well, but don't worry, your place is right here with me, my beloved statue.". And off she goes, I would be smiling silly and blushing red were I not stone. It always swells my heart with pride and joy to know I am my Mistress' most beloved artwork. But as she goes, so does my mind, slowly blanking, until my beloved Mistress is back again.

[capnomonkeys]

Femboy cat tf! (full comic)

[capnomonkeys]

Bell that makes you girl 🔔

[capnomonkeys]

you all really like your dolls huh. well guess what: there's TWO now

[capnomonkeys]

i think my favorite thing about the Human Domestication Guide is how the Florets keep their overall personalities. yes they'll be made into the best possible version of themselves, and yes they'll be completely devoted to the affini, but they don't fundamentally change as people.

if you like drawing, you could still draw. if you like silly tabletop wargames, you could still do those. you would make and be encouraged to have friends outside of any fellow florets your affini has.

basically: fuckin love HDG and its worldbuilding on ethics is astoundingly good

[capnomonkeys]

A doll with echolalia. When it is spoken to it will automatically chirp back a word or phrase just used, before giving its answer. It does not even seem to be aware of itself doing so, often tilting its head in confusion when the repetitions are pointed out. None however would mistake it for mocking, as the doll simply sounds too sweet.

This, of course, can make it risky to awawa around the doll— it is entirely possible to accidentally set off a chain reaction.

[capnomonkeys]

there are stub wikipedia articles for japanese war crimes that had death tolls the size of a small city

[capnomonkeys]

This is legitimately one of my fav quotes from him

[capnomonkeys]

Decided to start collecting out of context post titles from PDX games and

[capnomonkeys]

Alright, time for my mandatory Wellness Check, sigh...let’s get this over with.

The door opens 

"You’re late, you know the deal. You can do the Class-A cuddles for another day of independence, or you can attempt the Class-C cuddles for three."

Here in Affini Civiliz-...Compact, no one chooses to Class-C for independence. It’s better to be safe and do the Class-A cuddles for one day, rather than risk your entire life for just a few days more. "I...feojnbgofommmmmmrrrmph. O-okay, I did it, Miss."

"Good flower~. Now tomorrow, you better not be late, or you’ll be getting both as punishment."

"Yes Miss, sorry, I won’t be late next time."

In here, us independents only get drugged up cuddles once a day. One five minute cuddle is just enough to get you to the next day. But that’s the life in the Affini Compact. If you want to survive, you have to cuddle. Every Independent Noob has the same goal, and that’s to make an escape from the Compact where all the Free Terran Pros live, except most Free Terran Pros are born out in the wild.

If you’re an Independent Noob, there’s only one way out, and that is through the Temple of Cuddles. The Temple of Cuddles is the only structure in the ship that gives sophonts a ship to leave. To make it up, you have to do an impossibly hard drugged cuddle session that no Independent Noob has ever completed, and that's assuming you even get the chance to complete the course. The inside of the temple is protected by a barrier, and the only way an Independent Noob gets past the barrier is if they’ve earned a ticket. I’ve never even tried getting a ticket before, but if I’m going to rank up to a Free Terran Pro one day, I’m going to have to.

In my neighborhood, pretty much everyone has fallen into hedonism and florted, except for the guy who lives right next to me. He’s been my neighbor for five years! 

neighbor attempts the Class-C for the three days and collapses into Miss's vines immediately, starts calling her Mommy and reveals she is a trans woman; vine boom 

NO! WHY DID SHE TRY GOING FOR THE THREE DAYS!?!?!? Well, I guess I have to change my statement; I now live in this neighborhood alone. In the Affini Compact, only Free Terran Pros are allowed to break rules and engage in capitalism. For Independent Noobs, it’s strictly prohibited, and unfortunately, I found that out the hard way. A while ago, I was searching around and I somehow stumbled upon a Terran Accord Credit. No one has seen a Credit in years, since currency don’t exist in the Affini Compact, so I had to try to take it.

“Stop right now!”

Oh no, I’m done for.

"You really thought you could take that without me noticing? What, were you going to try to trade that for goods and services?"

"No, Ma'am, I didn’t try to take it. I just thought it would be super rare and I wanted to collect it."

"Stop talking, give me ten minutes of Class-A and Class-W cuddles now."

"Ten minutes of cuddles!? Okay, sorry Mis-aroo. Ruff ruff yip bark!"

"You know what? You keep monologuing when you think we aren't listening~ let’s make it fifteen."

"A-aroo?...arf...."

"You know what? Now let’s make it twenty minutes in a row. And you have to do it while wearing this floretwear, petal."

Ah, a...a p-pretty, comfy dress?? Come on. 

does 'his' punishment. 

In the Affini Compact, it should be no surprise that all 'punishments' were just more forms of love and affection, and that was the last time I ever tried doing a capitalism.

"You’re lucky you got off easy. Don’t forget, you’re at the bottom, so follow the rules. Also, schedule a meeting with your Vet for some Class-G's, sweetie."

It’s safe to say that if you’re an Independent in the Affini Compact, it’s not exactly the-

sound of door thudding, splintering

What was that?

CRASH

"Petaaaaaal~ Remember me? Your Hab AI told me you were monologuing to empty space again, and I'm afraid the clip it sent me was so adorable that I just had to come and see. Here, come try this collar on for me..."

...Oh no.

[capnomonkeys]

the "boy who tried to follow all the rules only to be accused of constantly breaking them" to "girl who dreams of being a robot maid" pipeline

[capnomonkeys]

Doll that’s finally able to get its porcelain skin and ball joints after being florted by an Affini.

Call that the perks of being a dollflower

[capnomonkeys]

An attentive observer will notice the first sign of dollification in the eyes of the subject.The continued process objectification and denial of human rights usually leaves its first physical signs there. The life goes out of the eyes as the subject comes to understand that they're not human, and that they shouldn't expect to be treated as such. In many cases....

— The Process of Dollification, pg 28, by Dr Penelope Jones

[capnomonkeys]

she was a skater boi she said see you later boi 😎

[ Image Description: A drawing of a doggirl shakily standing on a skateboard while a catgirl holds onto her arms for support. The catgirl is saying, “That's it. Good girl. I've got you.” the doggirl is thinking to herself, “Good girl? Good girl! Good girl! Good Girl!” while wagging her tail and blushing in response. End ID. ] ID by @boy-defined

[capnomonkeys]

princess: [after just having read a bunch of lurid erotic fiction] maid, come here

maid: yes princess?

princess: maid, i need you to jerk me off

maid: .....

princess: right now, maid

maid: no, your highness. i am not doing that

princess: wh- im the princess! you cant say no to me

maid: yes i can, your highness. i am not doing that

princess: awwww man.. but all the fiction i was reading said i could do that

maid: i am afraid fiction is just that, your highness, fiction

princess: can you at least get naked so i can jerk off

maid: no. get some rest, princess, you have to dine with your 5 male suitors tomorrow

princess: no beautiful ladies???

maid: afraid not your highness

princess: oh my god i am never getting laid am i. fuck i hate my life can i abdicate the throne or something

maid: no,

princess: fuuuucckkkkkkkkk

[capnomonkeys]

With the right xenodrugs and proper application of hypnotic fascination, no terran stands a chance ;) Follow up to this comic. I had a bunch of hot dialogue planned but I forgor what it was.