A snapping of fingers jolted Senya back to awareness. Sylvia was sitting next to him, her hand in front of his face, a smirk sneaking across those flawless lips of hers. Those plump, flawless, kissable lips.

"Hello, Senya?" She giggled. "You in there?"

His whole face went hot. "S-Sorry," he stammered, tearing his eyes off those lips. "I must have... must have, um, drifted off or something."

"Mm, must have!”

Senya squirmed. He'd really not meant to… to lose track of himself like that. He knew how tempting a target he must have been in that moment, and felt flutteringly grateful to Sylvia for not taking advantage.

"So, where were we?" Sylvia asked sweetly.

"Um. Um, I think we were talking about..." Senya bit his lip, trying to remember. It didn’t help that the memories were themselves so flustering. "We were talking about drones, I think. Or… or sprites?"

"Oh, right!" She nodded, eyes brightening. "Yeah, we were totally talking about mead sprites. So, like, when a mortal—or sometimes a fey, or even a fiend—gets too much mead, they can go all the way to the fourth stage of addiction." She leaned in conspiratorially. "A lot of people think there's only three stages—like, the first stage, where you're a little addicted but can control it, and the second stage, where you’re totally, helplessly desperate for more, and the last stage where you become, like, a mead sprite. But the second stage is where you think you can control it… but totally can't. The third stage is the one where you’re totally addicted and have to seek it out wherever you can get it."

"And... the fourth stage?" Senya licked his lips unconsciously.

Her eyes glimmered. "Well, I'm sure you've heard plenty of buzz about that one," she purred.

Senya stared back at her. Something about what she'd just said prickled at a memory, and he tried to snatch at it, but caught nothing but air. He drifted after it, trying to catch the vague sense of deja vu...

"Well? Have you?" She tilted her head quizzically.

"Y-Yes." He nodded weakly. "Um, the fourth stage is where the addict is... ready to change."

"Mm, that's right." Sylvia smirked. "Some addicts keep protesting even then, keep thinking they want to resist, of course. But they can't resist the sweetness of the honey, the buzz of their Mistresses. They’ve totally lost to us. And that's. How. They. Want it." She pronounced every word with sensuous care.

Senya's head felt weird and staticky. He shifted, trying to subtly clear it. Again deja vu tugged at him, but not wanting to look too dazed again—lest Sylvia get it into her head to try hypnotizing him or something—he did his best to ignore it. "S-So, they... they need Thriae around to turn them into mead sprites, then?"

"Mm, some manage it on their own, if they’re able to get ahold of some royal nectar somehow… but a true honeypet," she flashed him a dazzling smile as he felt his mind suddenly slow down into ooze, just for a moment, "needs to be trained properly."

Senya’s head swam as he pulled back. He stared at Sylvia stupidly, licking his lips of a lingering taste. "Yes. Y-Yes, that… makes sense."

She pulled her neckline up, and Senya dimly wondered why she was smiling like that. Why had her dress been so low?

He blinked. Wait, since when had he been leaning...

He chased the thought, but doing so only made his thoughts blur and warp. His head swirled in uneven spirals until he was dizzy.

Dizzy and buzzy.

Buzz, buzz, buzz…

He giggled faintly, then blushed as he remembered himself. "R-Right. So, um, that's how sprites work."

"That's how sprites work." Sylvia nodded encouragingly. "See, they need the honey sooo bad, need to obey soooo bad, they just let their brains… buzz away~"

Senya blinked. He shook his head a little, trying to clear away some of the cobwebs—the fuzzy, humming cobwebs, each strand of which he pulled at thrumming like a string instrument, resonating through his mind... "Um, yeah. Um..."

"Because it feels so good," she went on, giggling. "Just submitting to that nice, soothing buzz, letting your thoughts sink and fade beneath the drone..."

Senya blinked blearily. He scooted away. "N-No,” he whispered. “No, wait..."

"Buzz, buzz, buzz," she cooed, leaning in after him.

Senya felt his mind getting fuzzier and meltier every time she said the word. What was happening to him? He reached up to cover his ears, shaking his head again, his protests a pathetic plea. "N-Nnno..."

"And those sprites make such… wonderful… honeypets~"

Senya felt everything slow down again. This time, he was aware enough to notice, to notice how everything melted into a nice, gooey ooze. The next thing he knew, he was pulling away again, and his brain felt like a muscle massaged into limpness. He licked his lips and tasted honey. Sweet, gooey, wonderful honey. "Wh... whuh..."

"That's it!” Her voice rang with wicked, undisguised glee. "You're getting it. Such a good boy."

"No." he whimpered. "No, what are you... what are you d-doing to..."

"Buzz."

Senya clutched his head, gasping as the fuzzy static sent prickles of relaxing pleasure through his mind. "S-Stop…"

"Buzz, buzz, buzz~"

"buzz," he thoughtlessly echoed. He heard a little giggle, and realized after a moment it was his own. In a panic, he tried to stand up.

"Oh, no." Sylvia giggled. "You can't be leaving in this state, dummy."

"I... y-you're..." Senya shook his head as briskly as he could, forcing his gaze away from her. His mind sloshed with honey with every motion, buzzed delightfully, but he knew, dimly, he had to resist. He had to get out of here, before she... she...

"Not even a goodbye kiss?" Even not looking, he could hear the pout in her words.

Senya felt his world tilting. Gods, he felt so dizzy. His head felt so heavy, like a leaden weight, and the thought of even looking at her lips made him feel weak inside.

"N-No," he whispered. He managed another step.

The sound of his footfall briefly echoed through the silent cottage.

Then Sylvia's voice came again, and it was so unbearably, sickeningly, poisonously sweet that Senya trembled and licked his lips unconsciously, as if her very voice was sweet enough to fuel addiction. "You know, Senya, you're such a lovely boy.”

Senya gulped.

"So kind and generous with your time, with your attention… gosh, like, one miiight even call you a good boy."

Danger. Danger. Senya took another halting step. It felt like his brain had fallen asleep, like limb that had too long gone unused.

"And do you know," she went on, and she put such special, delicate attention into her words then that Senya already knew he was lost, "what good boys do?"

Senya felt the tug of the suggestion, and he tried to fight it, but it was unbearable. The desire to obey rose in him, the honey waves sloshing at the banks of his weak, eroded mind, and from his subdued lips slipped three little words.

"they… say… yes…"

"That's right!" Sylvia giggled. "Good boys say yes."

"yes," he whimpered.

Sylvia positively cackled with glee.

"Omigod. Turn around, sweetie."

"N-No, I—"

"What do good boys say?"

"yes, Sylvia." His voice was pathetically submissive, lost, broken. Senya turned around, and the pure pleasure of obeying the compulsion flowed through his mind like a winter’s flood. He didn't know what was happening. He'd lost control, somehow, but when he tried to think about why, about how he’d so utterly fallen under Sylvia’s power, that fuzzy, buzzy deja vu feeling fluttered in circles around his head like a butterfly, a hummingbird, like a little buzzing honeybee, leaving him even dizzier and more confused than before

A smirk was spreading across Sylvia’s angelic face, and Senya realized that as long as he remained standing, his tented trousers were at her eye level.

"You wouldn't leave without giving me a teensy-weensy little kiss, you?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

He whimpered. "n-no, please, don’t—" Even one single taste of her honeyed lips could render him docile and suggestible as a catgirl on kittenfolly.

"Silly boy~" Sylvia beamed. "Like a dumb, horny boy can resist a pretty girl's kiss." Her voice slithered around him like a serpent, coiling and massaging his weak, dumb mind into putty. "I'm gonna ask, like, one more time, sweetie. Would you like a goodbye kiss?"

The coils gave a squeeze.

"yes, Sylvia," he whimpered pathetically, and his knees practically buckled beneath him as he leaned down towards the wickedly-grinning Thriae.

But she caught him by the chin and held him there, inches away. He stared in aching desire at those full, glistening honeyed lips. "Say please," she cooed.

Senya squirmed. No, wait, he couldn’t—he mustn’t—

"please, Sylvia!” he squealed.

And Sylvia kissed him. Her lips met his, so soft and luscious and sticky with honey lipstick, sweeter than he'd ever remembered and yet so exquisitely familiar. He melted into the kiss, moaning, and it took every ounce of will he had to keep from falling to the floor—or swooning into her arms.

She pulled him away at last, smirking as he gasped for breath.

"Wasn't that nice?" she cooed.

"y-yes," he whimpered.

She giggled. "Aww, so sweet. Well, goodbye, then." She patted his cheek. "Have fun~"

Senya blinked. For a moment, he started dumbly at her, unable to believe what she'd said.

"Well?" Sylvia raised an eyebrow and made a little shooing motion. "Aren’t you going, honey?"

Senya slowly pieced his thoughts back into something resembling a whole. "I... yes?" With difficulty, Senya, bewildered, forced himself to stand up straight. He turned and took one step.

And he hesitated.

A vague thought had begun to scratch delicately at the back of his mind:

Why not just one more?

The feeling of her lips lingered with him. The taste, the suppleness. The thought was just a little tickle, a murmur that didn't quite possess its own voice. He stood there, hesitating, and licked his lips.

Just one more couldn’t hurt.

No. No, he told himself. What was wrong with him? He needed to go. He needed to get out of here. Even being the Warden probably couldn't protect him from mead addiction, and now Sylvia had no triggers keeping her from dosing him up however she pleased.

And yet...

Just one more. That’s all.

One more couldn't hurt... could it?

"Well?" He heard Sylvia give a little laugh. "Gosh, what's wrong, sweetie? Is there…” Her voice rose to a sultry, dainty suggestion. “... something else you want?"

Senya bit his lip. He could barely hold in a 'yes', and only because she hadn’t prompted it.

Just one more, the voice coaxed in his head, louder now, gaining ground. Just one more. Where's the harm?

Just one more.

Then we can leave.

Just one more.

Just.

One.

More.

Sylvia smiled up at him. Her eyes sparkled.

"Tell me what you want, baby~" she cooed.

Senya felt his resolve weaken in the face of those beautiful eyes, melting like butter in hot syrup.

"I… can, um…” He hesitated, his better judgment fighting tooth-and-nail against the idea, but in the end he couldn’t help but blurt, "Maybe just... one more?"

And Sylvia’s smile was so sweet, so innocent, he couldn’t possibly think of any reasons this could be a bad idea.

"Oh, for suuure!" she burbled, and curled a finger. "Just one more, though~"

"Y-Yes," he squeaked, leaning in. "I'm—I just want to, um—" His words gave way to happy moans as her lips collided with his.

Her honeyed tongue slid into his mouth, and for a moment, everything oozed into sweet, gooey perfection. His knees did buckle this time, and he nearly fell before catching himself on the back of the loveseat. He felt his cock throbbing in his trousers. Sylvia's beautiful bimbo lips were so yielding, so pillowy, so utterly... addictive...

He felt her pushing him away, and he leaned against the push for just a moment too long. He stared with dreamy, dizzy eyes as their lips parted.

"Well?" she asked sweetly. "Had enough, sweetie?" Her lashes fluttered low. "Or do you want… just one more?"

And oh, fuck, the words sounded so sexy and enticing coming from her, whispered in those breathy dulcet tones, that utter unbearable smug certainty.

Senya’s head slowly nodded.

Sylvia made her eyes big and innocent. "What was that, Senya, honey?"

"Y-Yes," he whimpered, squirming. "Just... just one more."

She smirked. "No."

Senya's whole world swayed. His knees quaked. With one word, Sylvia had stripped all pretense of power, all illusion of control from him. She wouldn't kiss him. He couldn't make her kiss him. But he needed her to kiss him, needed it—just one more, that was all, just one more to tide him over, to help him get over this craving and clear his head and—

"P-Please," he whined, shifting in place, "please, just one more, Sylvia. Please, please—please!"

He knew how pathetic he sounded. He couldn't help himself. He didn't know why, but he couldn't. Those words wouldn't stop echoing through his mind like high-pitched whalesong in a deep honey sea.

And Sylvia, he realized, knew it. From her smirk, she knew exactly how this was tormenting him, and she was loving it.

"Well, okay, fine, I guess," she said sweetly. "But you're making me strain my neck, leaning over me like that, sweet boy." She giggled. "You wouldn't want me to hurt myself, would you?"

"N-No!" Senya felt horror creeping in. Sylvia was so sweet and lovely, she was an angel, she was perfect, he would never ever want to…

… wait, where had those thoughts…

Sylvia patted the seat next to her, and totally unable to help himself, Senya found himself sitting down beside her once more. He squirmed, realizing how this must look. But he was only taking one more kiss. That was all. Just… just one m—

When she kissed him this time, she was like a furnace, burning with heat, glowing with lust as she clutched him possessively, moaning, her nimble tongue toying with his and lathering it with sweet, gooey honey, her lips smacking sloppily over his own. He swooned into the kiss, panting, moaning, craving more, more, just one more second, one more minute...

"Mmwaah!~" she sang, pulling away to beam at him. Senya stared stupidly at her, and, realizing he was drooling a tiny bit, licked his lips.

He’d allowed himself to sit next to her again. He knew he was backsliding, but something in him told him not to worry.

Nothing was wrong.

He just wanted… just wanted…

“Just one more?” she prompted, batting her eyelashes.

Senya blinked, and then found himself smiling dumbly. It was embarrassing, but... really, where was the harm? He stared at her lips and nodded eagerly, hungrily.

"Say it, sweetie," Sylvia cooed.

Senya flushed. "Just... just one more?"

She smirked and leaned in close.

mwah~

This kiss was brief, teasing. His head swam as she pulled back. "Um. J-Just maybe one more, maybe."

Sylvia had a strange smile on her face as she darted in again.

mwah!~

So quick, so tantalizing… "Just one more," he heard himself pleading. She tasted so good, so sweet, and it felt so natural to just want...

mwah~

"... one more," he moaned.

mwah~

"one more," he babbled.

mwah~

Senya was drooling, swaying, his whole world honey-glazed.

Sylvia leaned back and smirked at him. "Well?" she asked, cocking her head cutely to one side and blinking those big, heartbreaking eyes.

He swayed.

"more..." he slurred.

"You'd do anything for just one more kiss, wouldn't you?" she said smugly.

He nodded weakly. He was desperate. He’d say anything, agree to anything…

"The trigger only sticks for about half a minute. If you could just hold on a few more seconds..."

"more," he pleaded. “more, more, more!”

And Sylvia giggled. "Okay, cutie!"

She leaned in and kissed him on the lips, and Senya felt his mind dribbling and melting away. He tasted her honey on his tongue as it rendered him increasingly weak, pliant, suggestible.

Docile. Trained. Domesticated.

Obedient.

Hers.

Trigger. The word echoed in his head. As she pulled away, he swayed and swallowed, and managed a frown. "W-Wait," he managed.

Sylvia waited with a smug, insufferable grin.

"Wait, no... how..." Since when had he had triggers? That was bad. That was really, really bad. Anyone could potentially use those, but the Thriae were one of the worst possible prisoners to know them. The fey of the Ward could have him completely at their mercy, incapacitated by a mere word, a mere...

"Something wrong, sweetie?" Sylvia asked, her head tilting with a quizzical, patronizing smile.

"I... you..." He tried to think clearly, at least a little. He was in trouble. He needed... needed to… “Just…

The thirtieth second mark passed, and the craving suddenly cleared from his mind. He stared at her, eyes wide, and made to stand up.

Sylvia just smiled. "Bouncy brains," she cooed.

His head dropped.

His eyes fell helplessly upon her tits.

"wh..." He blinked. "N-No, wait..."

"Bouncy brains, bouncy brains!" She bounced her breasts between her hands, giggling with glee.

"b-bouncy..." His eyes were glued to her tits. He felt his honey-filled mind sloshing, rolling, bouncing, squishing...

"That's right, dummy." She beamed. "Ooh, that one's hitting hard for you~"

"N-Nnooo... hhhow'd you..."

"Bouncy brains~"

"gghuhh.. nnggh, h-how…"

"Thoughts go squish."

Senya felt whatever he'd been about to say melt away, dissolve, drip, leak, flow…

"Buzz, buzz, buzz~

"buzz," he whispered, and giggled stupidly. Then he started squirming, realizing what he'd just said. All dignity left him, and he pleaded, "wait, please, you c-can't—"

"Shush, dummy," Sylvia purred. You're just a dummy boy, and I'm a pretty girl. You know what that means. You know you can't resist me." She bounced and squeezed her tits with a mocking little laugh. "A cute dumb boy like you just wants to pump himself stupid, doesn't he?"

"Gghuhh..."

"Goon those brains away," she cooed, reaching for his hand. Her dress was barely able to contain its cargo at this point, fluttering up and down with each bounce. "Bouncy brains, drippy brains, brains go squish, need to pump. Go on, that’s it, be a good dumb boy for me and reach down. Be a good boy and pump yourself stupid just drooling over my big, bouncy boobies~"

His hand was under his trousers. He didn't remember placing it there. He couldn't look away, couldn't take the hand away. Couldn’t stop himself from stroking. He whimpered, the feeling of total helplessness making him feel so wonderfully weak... "I'm—I'm not—drooling," he managed pathetically, pumping his cock, stared in hopeless worship at Sylvia's breasts.

"Oh?" Her voice was as soft and warm as fresh-spun cotton candy. "But Senya, don't you know..."

"n-no," Senya whimpered, suddenly sensing that something was coming, something that would be truly, irresistibly humiliating...

"Don't you know that..." Sylvia was loving this. He saw her hand under her dress, stroking, pleasuring herself, and her voice was shivering with pleasure. She was loving seeing him break.

"p-please," he whimpered, all dignity gone, "no, please, pleasepleaseplease duh—don't—"

"... that girls rule, and…?"

"boys drool," he moaned. He pumped and stared and moaned and bucked and drooled like the stupid boy he was. He couldn’t help it. This was what boys did. This was all boys were good for. Sylvia was just so much smarter, so much stronger…

"Say it."

"girls rule, boys drool," he slurred, pumping senselessly.

"Oh, good boy!" Sylvia’s triumphant smile alone melted almost all remaining will into sticky goo as she leaned in and tore his unbuttoned shirt open, rose up and straddled his hips, ground her honey-dripping cunt against his imprisoned cock. "You're such a good boy for me!" she exclaimed. "Such a good dumb little honeypet~"

He felt his mind ooze away from him, and this time he didn't fight it.

And the next thing he knew, his trousers were down, and she was grinding against his cock with an almost feral grin.

"Mine," she cooed, "mine, mine, mine~"

He tried to speak, perhaps even to object—

"Bouncy brains~"

His vision fell onto her tits as they at last spilled free of her dress. Her pert nipples were visibly leaking with glimmering golden honey.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

Her wings were buzzing now, and he would have been spellbound by even just their glittery patterns… were he not too lost in the beautiful, jiggling, bouncing boobies to care. He stared and drooled and thrust and grinded and humped against the beautiful girl atop him.

"You're such a good, stupid boy," Sylvia said sweetly. "And do you know what good, stupid boys get to do?"

And in a flowing wave of syrup, Senya remembered. Remember being given these triggers, being trained, being broken.

And he remembered what happened next.

"good boys get to suckle," he whimpered.

And Sylvia's voice was so pleased, so molten with delight, he nearly came the second she took him inside her and he felt her slick, supple walls squeezing around his cock.

"Beg," she cried softly. "Beg, beg, beg me!"

Senya panted and moaned. "please, please, please!" His mind was a melted mess, was dripping syrup... "please, wanna suckle, n-need to suckle—please, oh, please---"

"You'll get addicted," Sylvia warned, but in a musical cadence that told him she knew it didn’t matter, just wanted to force him to know what he was giving in to as he gave in to it. "You're gonna addict yourself to my honey, to my tits, to me, my stupid dumb adorable idiot good boy."

"yes-yes-yesss," he babbled, thrusting and bucking and drooling, letting his thoughts dribble right from his parted lips, from his twitching, dribbling cock—

"You want to be addicted, don't you?" she gushed, bouncing her hips. "Ooh, yes you dooooo!"

"yes!" he squealed. "yes, please, please addict me! I-I'm dumb, I'm yours, I'm—pleasepleasedosemeohfuckohffffuck—"

And his words were cut off as Sylvia lifted one breast and popped a nipple right past his panting, drooling lips.

And in blissful, mindless obedience, Senya began to suckle. His lips smacked, hips bucked. As sweet honey flowed onto his tongue, everything around him went…

… soft.

"Mine," Sylvia hissed smugly. "My cute little toy. My dumb little addict. My perfect little honeythrall. All mine. Mine~" She laughed at him. "You're just, like, a bimbo's little honeytoy now, and you looove it~!"

Senya moaned and nodded and sucked and clung, bucking desperately, drinking hungrily. Nothing mattered but Sylvia—perfect, beautiful, adorable Sylvia, the bimbo who had broken him, had trained him, had claimed him.

And he was getting close. Fuck, he’d put this off for so long, and now he had no idea why. He just wanted more. More.

He needed more.

Needed to kneel.

Needed to suck.

Needed to serve.

Needed to thrust.

Needed to obey.

Needed to obey.

Needed to obey.

Needed… to…

"Cum for me," she panted, "cum, cum, cum-cumcumcumcumcumcuuum—"

And Senya came. He mewled and moaned and bucked, and he felt Sylvia cumming, too, felt her juices trickling down his cock, sinking into him, and he sucked and gasped and drooled and nearly choked as honey flowed past and Sylvia squealed with pleasure, she was cumming, he was cumming, he was hers, hers, hers, hers forever—

Senya sank into pleasure beyond measure, bliss beyond hours, ecstasy beyond thought. He lay there beneath her soft, warm, comforting weight as the orgasm subsided, as he went limp and gave in to the cozy, molten afterglow. He smiled stupidly, adoringly up at his flawless, smart, wonderful bimbo goddess, his perfect angelic Sylvia.

He smiled up at her in total brainless happiness as he nursed, docile, obedient, broken, owned. He drank deep of the honey and welcomed the breaking of his brain, welcomed the addiction, welcomed Sylvia’s permanent, inescapable control.

Sylvia stroked his hair and cooed wordlessly, hugging his head to her bosom.

They stayed there for a long… moment. Minutes, maybe hours, he couldn't tell. It might as well have been days.

At last, with a languid sigh, Sylvia reached down to his throat…

... and gave his collar's bell a little ring.

The ring was like a cool mountain spring, like a stream flowing down rocks. Senya felt the water flowing through his mind, felt the honey kisses drop away, wash away. Vaguely, he heard Sylvia counting him up, her voice sweet and affectionate but also clear and calming. Her words didn't reach him. He just felt the honey flowing away from his mind, felt all the suggestions being cleaned clear—except for the triggers, which seemed to linger. If anything, those special honey lipstick marks deepened their hold, sinking into his mind beneath the cool current.

But his mind was clearing. His lips left her nipple with a little pop, and he blinked dimly up at her.

He blinked once. Twice.

His cheeks began to burn in shame.

"Oh," Sylvia cooed, "gosh, you're, like, soooo cute. I do think I like you, you know."

She tilted his chin up so her eyes met his. "All the way up, now~"

And she snapped her fingers as she slid from his lap and onto the seat next to him.

Senya stared at her and squirmed. Wakefulness came swiftly, and with it came deep, unbearable embarrassment. If his time at the Ward hadn't accustomed him so thoroughly to this kind of feeling by now, his head would have been in his hands.

"O-Oh," he squeaked.

"Your bell is old magic," she said slyly. "Older than me, I think. As old as the Ward. Looks like it even works on mead addiction, which is good!"

"I-It is?" Senya blurted. He squirmed at how the words sounded. “I mean, just, um, I would think you would… um…”

"Of course!" Sylvia beamed. "Sweetie, I just said I like you." She gave an airy laugh, cupping his cheek. "I bet I could've left the Ward long ago, if I really wanted. I'm really good at, like, enchantments and stuff, you know? But why should I?” Her eyes half-closed like a pleased cat’s. “I have attention, toons of fey playmates and playthings, all the supplies I need for my work..." She kissed his cheek and added, a husky purr in his ear, “And an adorable mortal friend who lets me break his brain whenever I want~”

Senya blinked. "Oh. Well, um..." He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little abashed. "Well, that's good, then. Sorry I, um, misjudged you."

"Oh, you didn't~” Sylvia pulled back, her voice rising to a happy chirp. “I looove breaking you down, and the idea of, like, enslaving you permanently to my will..." She smirked and held something up.

It was, Senya realized, the thing she’d been working on earlier. He wasn’t sure when she’d retrieved it.

It was a little bell of resin, glowing translucent gold in the lamplight.

"Maybe someday, cutie,” she cooed, “I'll put this one on you instead~"

Senya's mouth went dry.

"But," she added, "only when you're toootally begging for it. I'm all, like, reformed and stuff, see?"

"R-Right." Senya swallowed. "So..."

"So I wouldn't worry about the new girls. Your bell keeps you safe from the worst stuff they can do to you, and, like, they might be glad to be protected from their Hive hunting them down. Not all Thriae like their Hives, you know.” Though still sweet, her smile took on a quality Senya struggled to decipher. “I left mine for a reason.

"But oh my gosh, I've been totally hogging you." She giggled and hopped up, and helped Senya up, too. “You have sooo many other fey who’ll wanna toy with you today, I bet!”

"R-Right." Senya squirmed, his eyes flitting down to her breasts before quickly meeting her eyes again. "So... the bell protects me from addiction, then?"

For a long moment, she just smiled at him.

Then she stepped close, and she murmured, "Just because your mind is your own doesn't mean your body won't be ours~"

Senya's heart started to pound.

"Anyways, have a nice day!" She bounced in place with a girlish giggle, the perfect, dumb, silly bimbo once more. "Come back anytime."

"Th-Thank you for having me," Senya squeaked, and made a hasty exit.

Her words followed him out, though, one final triggerphrase, and a dizziness filled his mind, a swirling whirlpool that would soon leave him easy prey for the beembos lurking in wait outside.

"Teehee, having you is aaaalways a treat... silly boy~"

THE END