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Hi there. I’m Cadence, or Cady for short, and today I’m going to be telling a mesmerizing story set in the Human Domestication Guide universe, where you play the role of a terran ward learning about certain… eccentricities of their Affini Mistress.
Themes and possible trigger warnings include: soft vore, envelopment, brainwashing, femdom, collaring, and more. This is a hypnotic audio file, so if you follow along, you may feel yourself drawn into elements of the story, as if you’re reading a book you’re deeply immersed in. This is perfectly normal, safe, and encouraged. It will install an optional trigger, “Good Floret”, in your mind, to make you feel wonderful and submissive towards the person you trust to use it on you.
Femme narrator, femme Affini, gender neutral listener
<Book fluttering SFX>
<Door SFX>
<A, somewhat distant: Petal, I’m home! And I’ve got a lovely surprise for you, dear!>
The warm, calm feeling washes over you before you even hear her voice. It’s been a few weeks since your wardship under the Affini began, and something about her presence immediately brings a certain warmth and light to your eyes. It’s probably just that… well… life under the Terran Accord felt like a bad dream you were finally able to wake up from. Now, you spend each day enjoying the best the known universe had to offer. No more misery and drudgery. No more desperate struggle for the bare minimum. No more thrice-accursed synthcubes!
And then… there was her.
Diona Gracilis, fourth bloom. Your ward, your caretaker within the compact. Somehow, even just her presence makes your mind feel fuzzy and warm, makes those thoughts feel like just a distant memory or a bad dream. She towers over you, easily double your height, her many eyes glittering like the sun, like shimmering pools of molten metal whose golden color is all too easy to lose yourself in.
<A: Oh Petal, I do so love how pretty you look when you get so spacey.>
You gaze up at her, dopey smile on your face. The warmth radiating off of her is palpable, and focusing on that just seems so much easier than thinking for yourself. Her words sound so good in your head.
You notice a sense of anticipation rising within you as her vines quiver. Stars, she's pretty. The smile across her facsimile of a face shines bright in your mind, and you can feel your other thoughts starting to quiet as you bask in that radiance.
<A: such a good little sophont. Gosh, you're so receptive to me, I can already feel how pleased you are to see me. *beat* I have something special planned for you today, dear. I'm going to show you something truly wonderful.>
The silent rhythm is getting stronger, and you notice how easy it is to sway gently from side to side, mirroring the subtle shifts in her vines.
<A: That's it. Just follow along. Sway to my rhythm. I'm sure an independent sophont like you has been spending all day thinking… but now I'm here, and you don't need to think any more. Let your breathing become calm. Let yourself slip, little by little… you know you love how it feels when I get into your head.>
You can't help but notice your head nodding along. Something about her words are so intoxicating, and the scent filling the room is starting to make your head spin. Floral, earthy… Easily, words spring to the back of your mind.
(Mantra: I don't want to think. I don't need to think. Miss will do my thinking for me.)
<A: swaying back and forth, letting your thoughts fade, and my rhythms carry you downwards. You don't want to think right now. I'm here, and I can do your thinking for you. I know you love how nice it feels when you don't have to think. There's going to be a lot more of that going forward. *Giggles*>
Your eyelids start to feel heavy. Swaying along with her rhythms seems so natural, but it's so tiring, and it's becoming hard to keep up. You know this game - it's one you're meant to lose. But you know that Miss Gracilis expects you to try, so you focus, trying to hold yourself up, swaying lightly back and forth.
<A: very good, petal! You know that resisting just makes you drop even deeper when you finally give in. And today, I want you deep . I want you to use every last ounce of that resistance, so that when you can't take it any more, you just drop so deep for me. >
The floral scent is getting stronger. Your eyelids are becoming impossibly heavy. You know you're going to lose, but… not… yet…
(Mantra: I don't want to think. I don't need to think. Miss will do my thinking for me.)
You gaze up at the Affini, noticing the vines of her chest unwinding. She smiles down at you, and you feel that same warmth filling you. It feels so good to lose…
<A: That's it, petal. No more struggling. No more thinking. You can just let go. *Snap sfx* drop for me, petal. Down. Down. Deeper. Deeper. Letting your thoughts fade. Letting your mind darken. Letting my words drop you deeper. And deeper. And deeper.>
<A: just let everything drift, petal. You're doing wonderfully. You're so receptive to my words, to my rhythms, to my advice… you've made so much progress. You've been so happy.>
Another vine reaches out to caress your scalp, gently petting and scritching you, and any remaining tension slips away effortlessly. You have been happy. You smile up at Miss Gracilis as another vine continues to pet you.
<A: You've been such a lovely guest these past few weeks. I know our wardship will be coming to an end soon, and I know you think you want to be independent. I would never try to domesticate you against your will, petal. That said… are you sure it's what is best for you? I have my doubts. And that's why today, I want to show you something. Something special.>
You hear the creak, and sense a shift in the air as the vines making up her chestplate unwind and come undone, revealing a massive cavity, barely covered by a broad leaf, slowly lifting like a hinge. The floral scent coming from within is intense, underpinned by a deep earthiness. It’s getting even harder to think.
(Mantra: I don't want to think. I don't need to think. Miss will do my thinking for me.)
The pulsing, squirming beat of Miss Gracilis's biorhythm is unmistakable now. You're being drawn in. It looks like a truly gigantic pitcher plant.
<A: I rebloomed with some genuinely intriguing plant life recovered from Terra. It's a strange adaptation, but one I've grown quite fond of over my years. You can feel its pull, can't you? Apparently, it was a carnivorous plant, enticing tiny, weak things with its sweet scent, and trapping them inside… and it is enticing, isn't it? The smell is already making your mouth water.>
You can feel the predatory tone in her voice. It sends shivers down your spine, even as your eyes remain fixed on dim glow emanating from within. Something about it calls to you. Something about it seems like…. (crossfade into Affini vox) <A: there’s a force in the back of your head, pushing you forward, dragging you downwards, pulling you in… It’s intense, isn’t it? *giggles*>
Oh. Oh. She’s in your head .
<A: Consider this your final test as an… “independent”.>
You feel your balance slip. You barely noticed how close to the open lip of the pitcher you had gotten, and with one light tap on the back of your head, your thoughts tumble forwards into the darkness. Into her stomach .
[Biorhythm audio gets louder - add heavily modified heartbeat sfx to replicate the core pulse]
[Gate additional SFX so it sounds like it’s being heard through a wall?]
You gaze up, seeing the light from above diminish and then vanish as the leaf covering returns. You’re starting to slip on the slick insides of the leaves, and it’s undulating ever so slightly. Pushing you downwards. You’re falling even further into the trap.
[Affini voice should sound echoey, like it’s coming from everywhere now]
<A: *laughing* Oh, my adorable little sophont… I love how you struggle. It feels so good to have you squirming against my insides. Keep fighting,dear, it’s so nice…>
Some deep part of your animal brain is screaming out that you’re in danger, which… confuses you. Mistress always keeps you away from danger. And here you are, closer to her than you’ve ever been, and… it doesn’t quite make sense to your conscious mind, but your reflexes keep struggling for purchase on the slick stomach walls, fighting for some reason you can’t quite make out. Why does it feel so good ?
<A: *laughing, moaning* Ooh, yes, just like that… struggle, little petal. There’s no escape, but your wriggling just makes my core tingle in delightful ways. I can feel every inch you slipping into me, and it feels so good. And I know, this close to me, you can’t help but have those sensations reflected back on to you. You’re experiencing this pleasure too. You’re feeling every little twinge and twist of my biorhythm, feeling my warmth and pleasure wash over you… You terrans are so weak to it. Gives me shivers just thinking about how much fun you must be having down there. Plus, I bet the xenodrugs are starting to affect you…>
Her joy, her pleasure , is infectious. It surges through you, amplifying the bliss that’s making it so hard to think.
<A: Normally, the pitcher plant has a basin full of acidic enzymes, meant to dissolve and digest its prey. Mine is… different . It’s designed not for dissolving flesh, but dissolving willpower . Digesting independence . Feeding me with the sweet, sweet submission of a good floret .>
The trigger is in your brain. The trigger was always in your brain, waiting for your mistress to call to it. And as always, when your mistress calls you a good floret, you realize just how good it feels, how right it feels, to be an obedient pet for her. It fills you with pleasure. It fills you with purpose. The fact you aren’t actually her floret seems as irrelevant as your past life in the accord. She called you a good floret .
The thought wanders through your hazy, lazy mind, as you slip a little deeper… (Echoey: I’m not a floret…) but the delightful tingly sensation growing through your increasingly aroused body makes it so hard to connect that thought to anything. You’re sinking deeper, as the fizzing haze of chemicals rise to engulf you. Everywhere it touches just feels… incredible . Like there’s lightning running through your veins, like there’s fire under your skin, like there’s pure light spreading through every inch it touches. As you slip further and further down, the sensations become more and more intense. (Echoey: didn’t I want to be independent?) More and more pleasurable. I don't want to think. I don't need to think. Miss will do my thinking for me.
[Affini voice becomes gradually increasingly distorted]
<A: *gasping moan* Oh… yes, good floret . There’s a bespoke mixture of xenodrugs in there. Potent class-As, class-Cs, class-Hs, some mild hallucinogens, a few simple stimulants to keep you awake through the whole process… and of course, enough air to comfortably breathe it all in. I can feel you inside me. I can feel your thoughts inside me. They’re so delicious. Just like you are. Good floret . Mnhhhh…>
Your mind is starting to melt. (Echoey: I’m going to be a floret…) Your brain is slowly dribbling out your ears, your eyes watering from the intense pleasure running through you. Every nerve ending feels like it’s under the most blissful electric shock, from the tips of your fingers to your elbows to your shoulders to your neck to your brain, as you sink further, waves of pleasure surging from the crown of your head down your spine to your core… Mistress is giving you pleasure . Why think when she can think for you, and make you feel like this ?
<A: *soft moans* You’re getting turned on by this. You can’t hide it from me. Not while you’re inside me. Not while your consciousness is so close to my core . You can feel it, can’t you? Throbbing in the darkness. It’s the source of my biorhythm. That beautiful, wordless rhythm that you delightful little cuties can’t help but fall in line to. What dragged you down here in the first place. It’s so hypnotic… and the closer you get… the more intense it becomes.>
The glowing is brighter in your mind. You gaze down, through the heady, hazy mix of gasses, to see a deeply alien light, pulsing through the darkness.
[core pulse gets louder]
<A: Do you know what happens to a terran who is exposed to an Affini’s core for extended periods of time? [Punctuate sentences with *throb* SFX] They get so needy . They grow dependent . They sink deep into the biorhythm, to the point where the lack of that powerful rhythm granting them structure feels wrong , feels empty . Like a hole in their being that needs to be filled. In other words… they become the perfect little pets. You’re going to be such a good floret. Come closer.>
You see it, now. A ball-like organ, attached to countless vines and stems, pulsing and vibrating, giving off light in colors you can barely process through the drugged haze. It’s enthralling . It feels like it’s calling to you. The pleasure surging through your body is becoming ever more intense as you get closer. You can see tiny little hairs, wiggling in time with the pulse, and you can’t help but reach out to put your hand on it. You hear your mistress’s moan, and sense the intense pleasure that comes with knowing you made your mistress feel good.
[Biorhythm at its strongest]
<A: *gasps, moans* And it feels so good to have such a cute little sophont like you curled up against it. So amazing . So right . It’s on an instinctual level, the same way it feels good to free you of your worries with my injectors… But even more so. And since you’re here, and your mind is essentially putty in my vines, it’s so easy to share that bliss with you. That pleasure . Frost, your body is so warm against me… Good Floret.>
The pleasure surging through you is becoming more intense. You’re a good floret. It feels so good to wrap yourself around your mistress’s core. It’s the perfect place for a perfect pet. (Echoey, distant: I’m… not… a pet… am… I?)
Something deep inside you starts to crack. That burning fire of resistance, the determination to do whatever it takes to be free - it's beginning to flicker out. Wave after wave of Her rhythms douse the flame, and each time it comes back a little weaker. In its place comes realization. Something you never realized you'd known, but you've always known - you never wanted to be free.
<Cracking sfx, something like breaking ice>
<A: *excited, horny gasping*>
It's all coming apart now. You can't tend that fire any longer, and you don't think you even want to. You don't think. Your Mistress will do your thinking for you.
The flame dies, and in its place opens a yawning gulf of obedience and pleasure.
<A: *squealing with pleasure* Oh. I felt that. You did too. Do you know what that is ? The concept of the self, independent of one’s owner, finally breaking . It is the most delectable feeling imaginable for one such as myself. The death of an independent sophont… and the birth of a perfect pet. Good floret.>
You can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. You can’t remember why you ever worried about this. You can’t quite recall what worry is . All you feel here is pleasure, and the intense thrum of your Mistress’s biorhythms. You don't want to think. You don't need to think. Miss will do your thinking for me.
<A: Good Floret. Feels so good , doesn’t it?>
The more of your skin makes contact with that glowing orb, the better it feels - the more pleasure surges through your mistress, and is reflected back to you. Independence… you don’t know what you were thinking. You belong here. You belong with Mistress. It’s so obvious, (crossfade into Affini vox) <you don’t know why you ever thought you were going to be independent. You’re going to be a perfect little floret, at least, once you’ve recovered from this enough that you’re no longer a silly brainless lap pet. Shouldn’t be too long. Good floret . Just cuddle up close to Mistress, and enjoy that brainless, horny, delicious pleasure. Let the bliss flood through you. You’ve been such a good pet for so long … you’ll make a perfect floret. Just… float here. Cuddled up to my core. Filled with bliss and pleasure. Let time become meaningless. I promise, I will love whatever you are at the end of this. Good floret. >
<Book closing SFX>
…and as we come to the end of our story, I would like to take a moment of your focus to remind you that, as immersive as the story may be, you are not that little Floret. You are a full person, and your mind will be able to think fully for itself once we’re done here. You may have noticed that there’s a fun new toy in your brain, a trigger. Whenever your mistress, or someone else you trust to control you calls you a good floret, you realize just how good it feels, how right it feels, to be an obedient pet. It fills you with pleasure. It fills you with warmth. You are welcome to keep this trigger for as long as it remains fun, and safe, useful for you - or, you are welcome to just let it go. Either way, I’m glad you came to my storytime, and I hope you enjoyed yourself.
Oh - are you wondering what happened to that cute little floret? Well, suffice it to say, they never made their meeting with the wardship committee. And they’ve never been happier. Mistress Gracilis makes sure of that.
I’m going to count slowly up from 1 to 5, and when I reach five, you’ll find yourself fully awake, aware in the knowledge that this story, however fun, is not your reality.
- Thoughts slowly returning to your silly head.
- Wiggling your fingers, wiggling your toes, feeling motion return to you
- Eyes fluttering open, becoming aware of your surroundings
- Feeling grounded and safe, taking a nice, deep breath… And
- All the way up, coming back to yourself, feeling warm, calm, and safe.
Any feelings you experience from here on out are yours, not anyone else’s. I hope you are relaxed and safe. When you’re done listening to this, you should get up and get some water. If I made it right, this experience may have been fairly intense. I recommend doing something emotionally comforting - I like wrapping myself in a blanket and watching cartoons, or going for a walk, if the weather allows.
Thank you for listening. Much love to the Human Domestication Guide community, to Olivia for helping me punch up the script a bit, to Sheepwave and Rukhmar for beta reading, and to Schnozzberry for letting me use their immaculate “Biorhythm” audio for soundscaping.