Celia’s world seemed to take on the texture of warm putty as the walls of Neya’s hab stretched and warped. The next thing she knew, the distance between herself, and her owner had vanished. Vines descended from every side, enveloping Celia in warmth and safety. Mistress looked down upon Celia, and the air grew thick with her love; it weighed upon Celia, leaving her mind quiet and docile. She stared up into those brilliant eyes; a whimper escaped her lips as she felt a need awaken within her. All her worries, her fears, her guilt began to melt away. She could not bring herself to care about her past in the navy, nor fret over her reluctance to act against Donovan and his men.  Such matters were replaced with a singular burning need: to melt into her owner’s control. Vines caressed her cheek, and Celia could do nothing but whimper and nuzzle into the affection as any and all of her concerns were dragged away, leaving only the quiet yearning of a simperting, needy pet. 

And when Mistress ran her vines all across Celia’s form, cooing all manner of declarations of love and praise, she understood perfectly the fact that there was no place for her in the whole universe, other than here, beside her connivent, in their owner’s grasp. Yet, Celia had resisted this, hadn’t she? Perhaps not fighting tooth and nail, nor out of existential dread, nor deep-seated mistrust, but she had resisted. There had been hesitance, at the very least. Nine years had passed since she first found herself living as part of the Affini Compact; surely if this were what she had wanted she would have chosen already, right? Such excuses were weak: it had been her hand that opened the door to submission. But could any choice be truly her own, if Mistress could bend reality itself to her whims? 

There was an obvious answer, and yet, Celia didn’t care. She was cradled in Mistress’ vines; her owner stared down upon her with a serene, peaceful smile on her face. Mistress was happy. If Mistress was happy, then all was right with the world. If Mistress had chosen this life for Celia, then she could only thank her owner for knowing what was best. Should her submission be built upon a lie, it was the most beautifully constructed lie ever told; Celia did not wish to know truth in the face of it. She could not mind, not when Mistress looked upon her, and saw the truth of all Celia was, and all she could ever be. Celia wanted nothing more than to gaze upon that wonderful face, so full of love and care, and sink. 

All around her, Celia felt laughter from the most beautiful voice in the world; Mistress was laughing, full of joy and affection. “Are you with me, little one?” She asked. 

A question! The lethargic peace of basking in Her ownership parted, and gasped as the overwhelming need to obey took hold. “Yes, Mistress!” The words had tumbled from her lips—bursting with bubbly glee—before Celia had even thought to say them, but all that meant was obedience came on instinct. That was good; Celia was good. Her purpose was to be a good, sweet pet for her Mistress to love and adore, and good pets obeyed. Nothing could ever be so fulfilling. 

“Good girl!” Neya cheered, taking a moment to shower Celia with indulgent strokes over her face and hair. She was good. Celia was good. 

Need bubbled within Celia. Her Mistress was so wonderful, so kind, so caring, so full of love and understanding. She needed the words to express it all, to tell her owner how much it all meant to her, to have all the wrong parts taken from her. This was not so easily done while uncountable vines scratched her chin and massaged her scalp. Making any sound that wasn’t a needy whimper or gasp of delight was a struggle. Celia looked up into her eyes ,her lips trembled, and eyes widened from the meer sight of her; that need only built. It started in her belly, a tingling pressure that rose up through her chest and into her throat, leaving fluttery feelings of desire and need as it went. Another round of petting began, and with a desperate whimper, Celia packed every less drop of her gratitude, love, and need into the only word her lips could form. “Mistress!” She cried.

“I know dear, I know,” her owner cooed. Her vines wrapped around Celia, lifting the girl into the air and placing her in her affini’s lap, before bringing Kelly up to sit next to her. And Kelly was here! Celia had nearly forgotten, she’d been so overwhelmed. There was a time when the mere sight of her connivent would have tied knots in Celia’s gut, when her words would have turned to stammering nonsense and her hands would instinctively twitch and grasp at the air. But subdued by her owner’s presence, Celia was free of such insecurity. Instead, she simply squealed with glee, and threw her arms around Kelly, pressing her face into the crook of her connivent’s neck and letting out a purr of pleasure as Mistress wrapped both pets up in a tight embrace, securing the pair in Her lap.

“Are you comfortable, my dear Celia?” Mistress asked. The words to respond were lost on the girl, so she simply nodded emphatically. Approval and affection bloomed within Celia, radiating from her owner’s core in response to her eager obedience. “Such a sweet pet,” she crooned. “It is time, then. Time I made you well and truly mine.” 

Unpleasant confusion seized Celia. Was she not already Hers? The idea left a sad, lonely, empty feeling within her, but before Celia could voice such worries, Mistress felt her pet’s pain, and squeezed both Celia and Kelly closer to her chest. “That isn’t what I meant, sweetling. You are mine, but I need to ensure this lovely blanket of blissful, docile submission you are wrapped in stays even outside this little world I have constructed for us. I need to break you, my darling girl.” 

In the face of such a momentous declaration, there really was only one response. “Please, Mistress.”

Neya smiled. “With pleasure, dear pet.”

The world shuddered, and Celia felt herself kneel. Frozen in place, she stared up at her owner, the desperate need for Her building higher and higher. The walls, the furniture, the floor and ceiling began to fade as Mistress grew to fill Celia’s entire world. With nothing left to anchor her, Celia plummeted, far and deep into awaiting vines. Mistress held her, still kneeling, wrapped and vines and suspended over nothingness. Still, her need climbed, overtaking all that Celia was. She opened her mouth to beg, to plead, but words had been lost to her. A nonsensical string of whimpery babbling tumbled out of her lips. Celia could not speak, could not stand, could not think. Mistress held all that Celia was. That gaze could stop worlds from turning, chill stars, tear the very fabric of the universe to shreds. Before such brilliance, the meager scraps of Celia’s independence could only curl into the palm of Neya’s hand, and melt away. 

Time dissolved into nothing as Celia found herself suspended in an endless, free associative dreamscape. Existence began and ended with Celia, Kelly, and, most importantly, their beautiful, perfect, adoring owner. Again and again, in more ways than Celia could hope to imagine, Mistress took her: touched her, held her, pet her, pleasured her until Celia yearned only to curl up and sleep nestled in Her vines forever. The threads of her mind were unwound, and rewoven into a tapestry of boundless adoration, bliss and submission. She had kissed the soft, trembling lips of her connivent for what seemed like days, never tiring, always hungering for more of that sweet taste, and the warm, hazy cloud of her owner’s approval. And when it came time for their play to end, for Celia to finally be lifted from the confines of her pod, and into the real world, Celia awoke as the happy, beloved pet she was always meant to be. 

In the end, Celia’s vacation from reality had proved a blessing in more ways than one. Of course, she had emerged liberated from the scars of her trauma and guilt, such troubles smothered by the bottomless well of eager adoration, joy, and contentment which came part and parcel with her place as a beloved, kept little possession. Beyond that, she had apparently spent the better part of a month confined within since her initial submission. Through it all, the Autovet AI installed within Celia’s pod had done the hard work of pumping her full of Class-Gs, performing a few minor gender affirming surgeries, and even installing her implant. 

As such, even in her initial days back in the real world, Celia’s life was a bit of a blur. Her waking hours were dominated by recovery, and the slow process of adjusting her mind to living in a world grounded in actual sense, as opposed to the hazy void of submission that twisted and contorted to her Mistress’ whims which Celia had grown accustomed to. Still, it did not take too long for her life to calm down. As much as Neya had gone above and beyond in the process of claiming, the trappings of Celia’s day to day life with her Mistress and connivent were far more mundane—though not in a bad way. Like many florets, Celia spent most of her days lazily cuddling in bed with the people she loved most, going off on extravagant dates, indulging in her hobbies, and, of course, having wild drugged-fueled sex with her girlfriend and her owner. She had never been happier. 

One such day, between a slow morning curled up in bed with Kelly and Neya, and a romantic date at a local botanical garden, Celia found herself held securely in place, seated on their bed, as her Mistress dressed and fussed over her. A lock of hair had fallen across Celia's eyes, and Mistress had reached a vine up to brush it away. As she did, the petals on one of her flowers tickled Celia’s nose, causing the girl to sneeze, and, in the process, blow even more of her hair down in front of her eyes. Celia looked to Kelly, then to Neya, and the three simultaneously burst into a fit of giggles. Mistress swept her pets up into her lap, and let out a contented sigh. And, once she had caught her breath, Celia exhaled a contented smile, and locked eyes with her owner. 

The moment was well and truly perfect, and basking within it, Celia felt all her adoration and gratitude begin to spill from her lips. She could not have stopped herself even if she’d wanted to, Celia poured her love into every word, thanking her Mistress for freeing her, saving her, treasuring her, loving her. She was so, so grateful for every moment she’d spent in that artificial world, crafted especially for her by her loving Mistress. Her time in The Pod had gifted her a happy, fulfilling, care-free life in the real world. Her stint within had undoubtedly been the most intensely erotic and kinky time of her life, so she certainly looked back upon those days fondly. But even so, every day she spent outside its confines was a gift, a gift from her person, from the one she loved most. Celia could never thank Neya enough for saving her from the misery of her old life. 

Mistress beamed at Celia, her vines contracted and shuddered in satisfaction at her pet’s words. She clutched both Celia and Kelly closer to her chest, causing her treasured possessions to nuzzle and gasp at the affection. And, after a brief moment of indulgence, Neya traced a vine along the underside of Celia’s chin, and tilted the girl’s gaze upward, to stare deep into Neya's eyes. Neya held her pet's gaze for a few moments, savoring the way Celia’s eyes glazed over in quiet docile adoration and joy from the mere sight of her, then showered the girl in doting strokes and pets, before speaking. “I am not certain I have the words to express how happy it makes me to hear that, my dear sweet girl. I may have known already, but hearing you say the words is another thing entirely. And I promise you, little one, I am just as overjoyed to own such a wonderful girl, as you are to be mine.” 

For a moment, she seemed to be done; Neya settled back, and held her pets close in a moment of quiet affection between the trio. Then, something changed in Neya. Celia watched it take hold, as her Mistress’ serene, gentle contentment stirred, and warped into smug confidence. Her lips twisted into a sharp grin, pointed with predation and possessiveness. The mere sight of such an expression was enough to send shudders through Celia’s body as Mistress bore down upon her. Puppeted by instincts she couldn’t understand, Celia’s heart began to pound as she squirmed in place. It was useless, Mistress’ grasp had grown so tight. And that smile, like Mistress was getting ready to devour her whole. A needy moan escaped Celia’s lips, only to be silenced by a vine to her lips. 

“Hush now, my docile little pet.” Docile, Celia was docile, she went limp—a pretty, posable doll. “All those things I said, I meant them, truly, my dear girl. But what you just said—you seem to have overlooked something, my darling. Or perhaps more accurately, you are assuming quite a bit, pet.” Neya’s voice had fallen to husky purr; it rumbled from deep within torso, hardly brushing her lips, instead vibrating outward along each and every vine, especially those which had ensnared her darling floret. Celia knit her brow, a pair of vines moved to tilt her head to the side in a mimicry of confusion, eliciting an amused giggle from her Mistress. 

“Oh dear pet, such a silly thing. Tell me, because you seem so certain: how, exactly, can you assert so confidently that this is, in fact, the real world? Do you truly find this reality so starkly different, so convincing in a way the others weren’t? Who is to say you are not still in the confines of that pod? Who is to say this is not all another little game? Perhaps this is just another simulation, another step in the process of ensuring that your willing submission is complete. Even that might be a lie. Who is to say what is real, and what isn’t? Why, even your past as an independent citizen of the Compact could be false. Perhaps you were rescued by the affini moments before your home was glassed, and this is all part of erasing that horrible past so you can simply be mine. Perhaps after you surrendered you begged for someone to snap your mind in two, so we shoved you in The Pod. Or maybe, just maybe, you are a feralist after all, and that memory of you watching as, one by one your comrades were converted to loving pets before your eyes, as you were helpless to do anything but wait your turn, was no fabrication at all. Perhaps all this is just another step at snuffing out all your resistance, all your loyalty to Terra. We may have already broken you time and time again, and simply wiped your memory of your past submission. Maybe this isn’t even the first time we’ve had this conversation. You may be moments from having your mind plunged deep into whatever new fun little game I have in mind for you, and you would never know. You will never know. The only thing you can know for certain, dear pet, is that no matter what happens, you and Kelly are mine.” Neya punctuated her little speech by running a point finger along the soft flesh of Celia’s neck, gentle enough to not pierce her flesh, but enough to remind the pet how soft, how fragile she was. 

A needy whimper escaped the pet’s lips as she slumped ever further into her owner’s embrace, whining and nuzzling Her chest. As Mistress rewarded Celia with another round of doting affection, an odd thought crossed her mind. If she were someone  like Oliver or Donovon—pre-compulsory domestication, that was—a speech like that would likely be one of the most frightening things in the world. Stars, it would terrify most non-feralist independents as well. Moreso, while Celia had come to realize that, even before her choice to submit, she had craved this place at her Mistress’ side, even she may have once been well and truly unsettled by Neya’s words. And yet, there she was, melting in her Mistress’ lap, shivering and cooing in contentment. The truth of who she had once been, where she’d come from, whether her world was ‘real’ or not, didn’t matter one bit. Such things were beneath her notice. Celia trusted her Mistress completely; her owner would never, ever do anything to harm her. Nothing could feel so relaxing, or so safe, as the fact that no matter what, her Mistress knew best, and always had Celia’s best interest at heart. Celia only needed one truth, and had it: Celia, and her beloved connivent, would always belong to Mistress. 

With one last exhale, Celia hummed in quiet satisfaction, and melted into her owner’s touch completely. Somewhere above her, she heard Mistress begin to praise and fawn over her. Celia shut her eyes, and smiled. She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t care. With Mistress there to choose for her, Celia was certain it would be everything she could want and more.