soulesstoy - Tumblr blog

[soulesstoy]

GLaDOS: I spent some time researching common human insecurities so I might better insult you. I've discovered that physical insecurities often manifest due to feelings of envy stemming from comparing oneself to others.

GLaDOS: There are no other humans in this facility. Just you. Therefore, you lack a source of envy of which would trigger the feelings of insecurity in your tiny simple human brain.

GLaDOS: A shame, isn't it? I thought so too. Which is why I've taken it upon myself to artificially create a humanoid body for myself so that you'll have someone to envy. A female figure who is taller than you, more mature than you and has larger breasts than you. Gaze upon my new form of perfection and shrink away in your envy. You'll never achieve this level of perfectio- why are you smiling at me like that. Stop it.

[soulesstoy]

give me instructions abt my everyday life.

"you should wear your hair up today"

"wear something girly"

"paint your nails white"

"you have drink the whole bottle of water before you can do that"

"no smoking until after your homework"

make me feel like i need your "okay" before i can do anything

[soulesstoy]

heyyyyyy girl you've gotta check out this video. hold on, you'll need these noise canceling headphones. just trust me bestie, it'll make the video so much better!

are you feeling it? oh my god you are totally drooling your stupid brains out. haha, come on pretty girl, you know you wanna touch yourself. good girl.

[soulesstoy]

Imagining I’m watching TV with someone but they start getting bored so they start to play with my boycunt through my pants. Rubbing their fingers along my slit, flicking at my clit, using their puppy’s little cunt as a fidget toy. I’m moaning softly next to them, trying to be a good boy and focus on the TV like they were but I can feel my panties getting soaked. So close to cumming, the throbbing of my boypussy getting to be too much till- they pull their hand away and act like nothing happened.

I’m left sat there on the couch next to them achingly wet and turned on. But wagging my tail and smiling up at them like a good puppy, happy to have helped them.

[soulesstoy]

oh, you’re into free use? is it because it lets someone else take over the responsibility of deciding when you’ve contributed enough worth so you don’t have to worry about whether or not you’re giving enough because someone else will just take it from you as they see fit?

[soulesstoy]

flight deck

you don't have to tell your handler that you're coming in messy after a bad mission. she's tied into flight ops. she knows.

she's waiting by the flight line before the grease monkeys have all your armor off, with a lubed glove on one hand and two fat purple pills in the other.

"ssshhh, pretty thing," she says. "you did your best out there. now open," she forces the pills to your mouth. "good girl. where's that water bottle… swallow. good."

her hand is already working between your legs, reinforcing her praise. they always detach the armor there first.

the pills help. the pills leave you feeling floaty, detached, enough to ignore what they've done to you to make the armor work. you probably can't climax without them by now, not that your handler would ever let you find out.

a few moments later, you spatter your built-up tension and guilt across the deck. with a sigh, you sink to your still-armored knees. your reflex weapons disarm, automatics finally allowed to take over from your own hair-trigger awareness. they're safe now. you're safe.

the grease monkeys are also safe, emerging from behind blast shields that would not have stopped any but the lightest of your armaments. more for psychological safety, really.

"she done?"

"the fuck do you think, wrenchie?"

"i think you couldn't pay me enough to do your job."

"i don't do it for the pay," you hear your handler say, as your eyelids sink towards closed. "i do it because that thing you're all scared of? she's all mine. and every landing, i get to remind myself, and all of you, and most importantly, her." □

[soulesstoy]

thinking about herta's little hand puppets made me realize she should have tgirl caelus and stelle doll bodies that she can use for experiments...

🔞 also there is an alt on twitter and cohost.

[soulesstoy]

Some of you have very specific ideas about what a "handler" does.

[soulesstoy]

subby mistress/domme maid thoughts

yeah okay, normally mistress knows best, but the Maid has a lot of power. power to control the mistress' schedule, control who sees mistress and when, controls what she has time for and what she eats, controls her clothing and wardrobe, controls her bedtimes and sleeping habits. mistress may be in charge, but the Maid has so much experience and knowledge that leading her only makes sense...

the mistress' schedule might be driven by her, but the Maid controls the diary. oops, mistress is busy that day. sorry, mistress will be resting from the previous day's activities then. oh dear, it looks like mistress will be undertaking routine exercise and duties then...

and let's just say when it's time for the mistress to exercise, the Maid specialises in 'high impact' training methods. at bathtime, the Maid makes sure to scrub extra hard in the mistress' most sensitive places, because those are the ones that need the most cleaning...

it's up to the Maid to see her mistress to places and watch over her. should someone get too close or start trying to impinge on the Maid's territory... whoops! what an accidental spill, please, let me help you tidy up. why mistress, it's time for us to leave for your next appointment...

the Maid has so much power in preparing the mistress' food and drink. all it takes is a little 'supplement' here or there and mistress can be 'shaped' to however the Maid desires. aphrodesiacs for the maid's pleasure, sedatives for a docile mistress who's easier to control...

and each day the Maid sets out the mistress' clothes. why yes, mistress, tight fitting latex is all the rage these days, and yes, the difficult to walk in boots will absolutely make a strong impression. let me lace you into that corset! too tight? nonsense mistress it is doing wonders for your waistline! the Maid makes sure mistress is always wearing the sexiest, most form-fitting or revealing clothing...

at the end of the day when it's time to rest, mistress gets her supper, and the Maid will see her to sleep, with some more 'supplements' to make sure mistress sleeps soundly. of course, at that point the Maid has full access to the mistress' body, and can take advantage of it as much as she likes...

[soulesstoy]

Necromancer domme taking you to the vet to be put down, only for you to wake up the next day, your soul now bound to the collar that had always choked your breath.

"Not even death is an escape for you, my pet."

[soulesstoy]

do u think robotgirls ever play ship of theseus with each others parts

[soulesstoy]

vignette (two figures)

Two dolls pressed together in a closet, the elegance of their dresses all a-tangled, their limbs intertwined and interlocked. The rustle of soft layers, the gentle click of porcelain shell upon porcelain shell, the metronome beat of two synchronised sets of internals. Through the just-ajar door, a line of amber light, draped across a contented little face and the fingers in its hair.

[soulesstoy]

unsure if clicker-training its puppygirl is meant to be *this* easy

[soulesstoy]

upon entering ma'am's bedroom and making its obeisance, it is to kneel and wait until either given permission to stand or called up into her bed. forgetting to kneel, entering her bed without her say-so, or getting to its feet without being given explicit permission are all punishable infractions.

if this one is in the process of carrying out some task, it may go about its duty without stopping to kneel; the obeisance is not optional, though, and omitting it when either entering or leaving her room is, again, a punishable infraction. ma'am prefers a curtsey, but a bow is also acceptable, especially in circumstances where this one's state of dress might make a proper curtsey difficult to perform.

this routine does this one a lot of good, both in keeping it attentive to its place and sating certain dollish cravings through regular, structured expressions of submission. it would recommend a similar regimen to any witch in possession of a similarly service-oriented doll - adjusted, of course, to the master's preference.

[soulesstoy]

unsure if clicker-training its puppygirl is meant to be *this* easy

[soulesstoy]

“And furthermore–”

Mima’s speech hangs mid-paragraph; instead of the next word in sequence, there comes the audible ktunk of a gear disengaging somewhere. Some empty reflex draws a hand to its throat; it tries again, and once more for good measure, and then stamps indignantly and snaps out the first gesture of a typewriter-perfect string of sign.

“Cheating, Mima.” The witch taps it reprovingly on the forehead, clack. “I know I said one thousand words for the day, but you have to consider the spirit of the rule as well, yes?”

Mima glares, weighs the frustration of being unable to finish its thought against having something more fundamental in its faculty of language uncoupled, and folds its hands behind its back with all the austere sulkiness a doll can muster.

[soulesstoy]

Heather wakes to the smell of cooking and a pulsing mess of pain. The skin on her shoulders, her neck, her throat feels like one lurid smear, as if a half-full bucket of liquid bruise has been thrown over her head. Her hips ache; for the reason you’d expect, sure, but checking under the sheets reveals fingerprints, blue-green and blooming, dug deep into the flesh. What chest she has is a purple mess of love bites. She sits up, feels the scratches stretch along her back, winces.

“Mornin’, doe.” Red occupies the trailer’s kitchenette, working a panful of eggs and mushrooms, her eartips brushing against the ceiling. Though Red doesn’t look her way, Heather still feels an urge to cover herself, as if there’s anything she hasn’t seen and marked already.

“Um. Yeah.” It’s polite of her not to cook bacon, Heather thinks, under the circumstances. “Thanks.”

Red pauses, pan half-tilted, and cocks an eye at her. “Mm?”

“For last night, I mean. It was.” Heather can’t quite meet her gaze. God. Red’s going to think she’s such a virgin. “Really good.”

“Mm.”

Quiet resumes, broken only by small sounds: the scrape and clatter of the frying pan, the hiss of the stove, Red half-singing something under her breath. Somewhere outside there are birds. Heather curls up in the blankets, takes a deep lungful of residual butch-smell, and drowily considers going back to sleep.

A few minutes later, a plateful of mushroom omelette drops into her lap, starting her out of her doze. “Eat,” Red says.

“Oh.” Heather smiles apologetically, pushing herself up on an elbow. “Thanks, but. I’m not hungry.”

“And I’m not asking.”

“... What, are you fattening me up or something?”

It’s a stupid, sulky thing to say, and Heather regrets it as soon as it’s out there. Especially since Red, six-foot-something Red, looks all the way down at her and says through a mouth that could crack Heather’s skull and lick out the contents, “Yes.”

“Um.” Heather’s bruised, tapped-out body betrays her by getting a little hard. “Uh-”

“I know your type, deer girl. Year, year on a half on estrogen and you feel like shit ‘cause you ain’t growing a figure cause you don’t fuckin’ eat. You wanna do this again sometime?”

“Yeah- I mean, yeah, b-but–” Heather scrambles after the swerve in topic, forgets not to sound too eager because god, she really, really does.

“Then do me a favour and put some fucking meat on your bones.”