“You really have a nice place here, huh?” you say, as you lounge on a beach chair near Velka’s private pool. Priscilla’s mother is blindfolded and silently breathing and moaning, recovering from your treatment of her brain and body. She’s completely naked besides the blindfold, marked with your black heart, while you’ve co-opted one of her swimsuits; a top of criss-crossing straps up top that let slip a tiny bit of your areolae, and a cute g-string for the bottom. Woman’s got good taste; she’d give your mom a run for her money.

It’s unfortunate you can’t give Velka a proper makeover, but sometimes you must defer to strategy. Even so, you’ve left more than just commands inside her reshaped and rebuilt mind. You stitched together a neuroprosthesis inside her with your tail to be able to provide her proper instruction from afar, and keep her from trying to have those pesky, no-good independent thoughts.

Letting a mere insect think for herself is no good, right? A human like her needs proper guidance. Instruction. She needs to know her life belongs to you. Oh, she’ll make a wonderful monster someday, but she can’t let too much slip to Sunset, right?

So it is. White noise to drown out Velka’s independent thoughts. Instructions for actions to perform within the bowels of the Sunset Corporation’s executive class. And of course, the most important six words for her life from this day forward:

Trust Rita.

Love Rita.

Obey Rita.

…you grin, and roll yourself onto Velka’s chair, kissing your blindfolded captive. Your breasts press against hers, and you lick your lips, gazing at Velka’s blindfolded, docile, totally fucked face in appreciation. She’s drooling from the corner of her soft, plump lips, numb from your neurotoxin, helpless to resist you. She was a lot more stubborn than you expected, yelling about kidnapping her daughter and stealing company secrets and how Sunset Security would hunt you down and the whole world would be after your head and blah blah blah blah blah. Honestly, it was a bit annoying to actually keep her from pressing that alarm, to edit Sunset’s surveillance network so they didn’t realize what was happening to a high-ranking executive, etcetera. So there was certainly quite a risk, more than you’d have taken on if not for your sweetest, dearest little Typhon. Having her in place like this is hardly a bad thing, though, so it all worked out in the end. Right?

Priscilla, by the way…

She’s enjoying her new body right now inside the pool, just as naked as her mother; evidently she’s pretty fond of swimming, unlike you. (Hey, you never learned how, okay?) Her scales and small size make her more hydrodynamic than before, and her biomagically enhanced physiology makes it easier to swim faster, stay underwater longer. Pretty impressive for a body not completely adapted to that environment.

Honestly, you’re pretty sure you could swim now if you wanted, with your body as it is. But you’ve got other things on your mind. Not simply Velka, no, not even your plans for individually adapted monsters for mass production. No, you’re actually checking in on your dear old friends through your horns:

clearest_blue: So I was talking with my girlfriend about your writing recently.
Wind_God_Windam: Uh, your girlfriend's been reading? This is kinda putting me on the spot.
clearest_blue: I thought I mentioned already! She really loves it, you know?
clearest_blue: But she was asking something about Geraldine.
TR-6inle: geraldine? o:
clearest_blue: The student from Steampunk France! With the hypnotic parasol!
TR-6inle: oh right, *her!* she's great :D
clearest_blue: My girlfriend prefers Daphne, though. I'm not really sure why? I think she has a thing for glasses girls.
TR-6inle: you mean some people don't?
clearest_blue: Anyway, not important. She was asking why Geraldine didn't use a pocketwatch to hypnotise anyone yet!
Wind_God_Windam: Well, Geraldine's an inventor, so she's actually more about 'tech control' like Daphne is, just with a clockwork aesthetic rather than a modern one. (That and the pheromones, of course.)
Wind_God_Windam: So maybe after a hypnosis class? Or homework, or as a side project? There's an idea. I'll take it under advisement!

Seems like they’re dodging around the issue of ‘Spiffy’ for now. As you expected, really. You’d be surprised if you heard from them before they catch further wind of you online. Still, not just Iri and her biotechnological dominance of the world, but now a story about interdimensional mind controllers learning new techniques at a dedicated institution headlined by a couple of technology-oriented ‘nerdycutes’? Pretty conspicuous, huh. Windam’s just so transparent sometimes.

Even so, it gives you a bit of an idea.

You get back on your own chair, and reach into your purse with your tail; you pull out something your machines found when they were repurposing and reorienting your condo into your hive’s core. A pocketwatch, that your mother had somewhere deep in her closet.

It’s a beautiful objet d’art, a mechanical timepiece hand-built for Noriko around a decade ago in an era when watchmaking was all but extinct. It’s got a cover inscribed with sweeping geometric curves and bearing two false jewel bearings; the watch itself is a skeleton watch, made to admire clockwork more than keep good time. There’s even a pendant fob of a black salamander with violet eyes! Honestly, you were getting a bit obsessed with Ada Lovelace, and Babbage’s Analytical Engine by extension, before you started to awaken; you might well have made something like this eventually if you got the chance to be properly obsessed with clockwork and mechanical computing.

There’s an inscription on the back, too: ‘IN SEARCH OF SUNRISE MMXLIII’. It was given to Noriko as a farewell gift by a university friend who left Southern Sun behind; you vaguely recall her mentioning the name Himeko, so you probably accidentally named your beloved robot after her without realizing the source. Kind of cute, actually.

But you didn’t take it out just to admire it. No, you want to see what you can do with pure hypnosis for a change. Rifling through some of Windam’s chat logs (No two-factor authentication? Really?), you got to see some hypnosis first-hand, and you have someone perfect right here to introduce to your new interest…

Priscilla was so turned on by watching the light fade from Velka’s eyes as you worked your magic on her. So captivated. It didn’t matter if it was her own mother; anything her Mistress wanted was hers. She kept Velka from doing anything foolish, using the strength of her tiny body and its machine cells to ensure she couldn’t escape her true fate.

She’s so vulnerable to you. Weak to you. Not weak to anyone else, of course, only to you. You’re certain, without any supernatural power, you could probably have her on her knees just by talking her into it. So easily convinced by the very concept of Rita. Betraying even her own mother to you.

“Mistress!” Priscilla yells, as she leans against the edge of the pool, kicking her scaled legs and taloned feet behind her, fluttering her eyes as their machine cells and her core flicker with red light. “Is that a pocketwatch? I haven’t seen one of those in person before!” Even after the depravity of the day’s activities, she sounds so innocent; it’s a cute contrast to Celina, who just gets more and more overtly lurid by the day. (Hopefully Celina’s enjoying the melting slime you placed inside her womb!)

“Really? I figured this kind of thing was all the rage with the jet set,” you say, stroking the watch’s cover, hearing the faint ticking of the movement. (Your hive gave it a good working over and cleaning, like the good girls your machines are.)

“I don’t really pay attention to that,” Priscilla says, giggling as she hops out of the water, the remaining drops easily slipping off her pseudo-skin. “When mama and papa had me go to their awful parties, I just hung around and nommed the appetizers!” Her mannerisms are a bit more overtly childish than before, but you don’t mind one bit. “Whatcha going to do with that, Mistress?”

Priscilla doesn’t quite realize, huh? Or maybe she’s just playing dumb. (Her draconic nature makes her a bit more…resilient to your attempts to grasp her thoughts with your demonic senses.) Trying to play innocent, even though her mother is laying down right next to you after becoming your obedient little sleeper drone. Even though Priscilla’s eyes already flicker and flash at the watch, even though her attention is already drawn to it. Come now, everyone knows about this particular meme, right? Even today, where hypnosis is more well-accepted and openly studied in the literature than it ever was before the Collapse, there’s still that irresistible memetic association between hypnotists and fob watches.

You adjust the chair to sit up, and motion for your Priscilla to come closer with a single clawed finger. She eagerly hops forward, with that infectiously innocent smile of hers. Honestly, you’re pretty pissed at past you for not realizing how amazing it’d be to have Priscilla twisted around your little finger, how easily she would fall to you if you ever asked, but you weren’t honest enough with yourself. Things worked out well in the end, at least, right?

“Can you listen to it for a bit?” you ask. “You can hear it ticking, right?”

Priscilla leans in, her long ears perking up at the sound, your Typhon briefly licking her lips and showing flashes of her razor-sharp teeth. “Yep! Sounds like ticking, alright. Don’t these watches keep less accurate time, though? They’re really expensive to have a worse way of telling time…”

“Clockwork is something to be admired,” you say. “It’s thanks to mechanical computers that we have an understanding of Venus’ surface, you know! It’s likely mechanical computers will play a big role to come in my plans for our grand journey into outer space. Now, can you watch this for me, Priscilla?” You lift up your watch by the chain, the fob jingling against the watch proper as you bring it to Priscilla’s eye level.

“Um, sure! Watch what?” Priscilla blinks innocently, her eyes locking themselves firmly on the pocket watch, just as Mistress asked. “You want me to watch the watch? Ehe.”

“Yes,” you say firmly, ignoring her tittering at the pun. You grasp the watch in your other hand, just lifting it up a little, so that when you let go, it’ll fall into a natural motion, as a pendulum, swinging back and forth. Priscilla’s eyes follow it “You’re still listening, right?”

“Of course, Mistress!” she says eagerly. Your lovely, obedient little Typhon. “I don’t see what this is about, but I’ll do this as long as you want me to!”

“Alright,” you say, smiling and licking your lips. “Then watch.”

Priscilla’s eyes narrow, staring intently at the pendulum motion of the watch.

“And listen.”

Priscilla’s ears twitch briefly, her enhanced hearing easily able to keep track of every single tick of the escapement.

“Watch.”

Priscilla stares at your watch.

“Listen.”

Priscilla’s ears strain for the ticking.

“Watch.”

Priscilla watches.

“Listen.”

Priscilla listens.

“Watch.”

Priscilla watches.

“Listen.”

Priscilla listens.

“Watch.”

Watching each motion.

“Listen.”

Hearing every tick.

“Watch.”

Following with her eyes.

“Listen.”

Hearing the ticks between your words.

“Watch.”

Tick.

“Listen.”

Tick.

“Watch.”

Tick.

“Listen.”

Tick.

“Watch.”

priscilla watches.

“Listen.”

priscilla listens.

“Watch.”

priscilla watches

“Listen.”

priscilla listens

“Kneel.”

priscilla kneels

“Sink.”

priscilla sinks.

“Docile.”

You hammer her with each word and your inhumanly beautiful voice.

“Open.”

You admire her as she so easily went blank for you, without even being told she’d be hypnotised.

“Watch.”

You see her straining to follow every command.

“Mine.”

You see her touch her black heart brand, pressing into the black dye over her scale-skin.

“Listen.”

You see the faint twitches and blinks as Priscilla keeps track of the watch even as her consciousness grows heavy.

“Obey.”

You watch her core and her machine cells pulse as they resonate with the Demon Lord.

“Obey.”

You watch as she seizes up, expecting instructions.

“Obey.”

You watch as her fingers press deeper into your mark, wanting to be obedient.

“Sink.”

And as you cut the strings, force her conscious thought to die, her eyes go so deliciously blank, and you feel so deliciously wet.

Like mother, like daughter. Such a good, open, fucked face she has like this. Drooling. Docile. Good and docile, a dangerous dragon reduced to putty in your hands. Such an obedient servant. You could tell her the sky is red, and she would believe it. The way you can peel away conscious thought to reach into her inner thoughts is so deeply erotic; your more direct and overt methods are too, but this has something uniquely appealing, as something you don’t need any kind of magic for. You can’t wait for the day you can properly thank your beloved Windam for delivering you to such a revelation!

You place your pocketwatch aside, thinking you might like a smaller one as a necklace for your decolletage; it might be worth using for subtlety later. For now, you have something you want to do, while Priscilla’s conscious thoughts are silent…

“Open your mouth,” you say, and Priscilla obeys.

You reach in, effortlessly past Priscilla’s razor-sharp teeth. You gently roll and tug on her tongue, teasing it out of her lips. Your eyes and horns flicker with violet glow as she extends that pseudo-reptilian organ, strong and thick, long enough to reach into your deepest places. Maybe it’s a bit vain, tuned to your tastes, but…

you can improve it.

Your tail curls forward, and you grasp the tongue tightly to keep it still. “Don’t move,” you say, and Priscilla’s body stills, keeping herself from making all but the most autonomic movements. Your tail’s tip thins itself, into a point sharp and strong enough to pierce even your Typhon’s tongue, virtually impervious to common needles or weapons.

And pierce it does.

Piercing straight through, your tail injects dull grey liquid metal into the newly formed hole, metallic archaea forcing the alloy to solidify into your chosen shape. Priscilla doesn’t even so much as blink, the pain entirely shut out by the depth of your control over her. Her machine cells flicker beneath her scales, a faint red sheen the only sign she felt it, her ears still straining for the ticks rather than paying attention to your actions, obeying the command of your hands, your horns, whatever else you use to communicate your will.

About 25 millimetres behind it, you pierce it again, each a smooth stud, a little bump of a piercing in her powerful tongue. Again and again and again, Priscilla obediently keeping herself still, not reacting in pain. Her body quickly heals itself, perfectly accepting toward the foreign agent implanted by her Echidna, her body as accepting to you as her mind and soul. Lining her tongue with beautiful studs and piercings, as you decree is beautiful upon her.

It’s so wonderful, you decide you shouldn’t stop here…

The puffy, oversized nipples on her tiny breasts are eagerly accepting of barbells. Her navel, an anachronistic remnant of her humanity you find too aesthetically pleasing to remove, bears another as well, making you eager to kiss and lick later. And her clitoris – that’s the moment when her body chooses to respond, but only with her gushing between her legs.

“Good girl,” you whisper, and she comes again. Her body’s sensitivity powerful, despite the trance…

Erotic.

It’s not a terribly radical alteration. Really, your need for appearances is causing issues in that regard. Celina, at least, you can easily modify thanks to her soul’s mutable nature; Priscilla’s is a bit more stubborn that way. But it’s only a matter of time, really, before you can push beyond such things, show true biomechanical beauty to the world of the insects call the human race.

Really, though…

you want to give it a test drive.

You open up your legs, and spread open your labia, the biomechanical flesh within exposing your pheromones to her. Velka, next to you, is none the wiser, but with a thought her neuroprosthetic whispers shift to pushing her to open her legs and come for the Demon Lord, etch her loyalty in with pleasure. As for Priscilla…

“Lick. Go deep.”

she’s already an obedient little Typhon.

Her body moves slowly, almost robotically, and her tongue presses to your labia. Her lips shift forward, tongue going deep, filling you up, pushing the tip into the altered, inhuman womb of the machine mother. Not a single protest as she begins to use her tongue to pleasure her Mistress and Queen.

First, yours. Then, Velka’s. Then it’ll be time to give Celina a reward, for being such a good girl, just like your Priscilla…🖤