Channel Hopping with your Mistress
Chapter 4a: Valley's Variety Visits Part 1 (You Meet Alice!)
by suzynya
Tags:
#cw:noncon
#D/s
#dom:female
#dom:male
#f/f
#pov:bottom
#scifi
#dom:internalized_imperialism
#dom:nb
#drug_play
#drugs
#f/nb
#furry
#Human_Domestication_Guide
#intelligence_loss
#intelligence_play
#multiple_partners
#nb/nb
#systemic_D/s
#transgender_characters
TWs here for a depiction of a panic attack, semi-public lewdness, and mention of religion
I decided to split this chapter in half since it was becoming something of a monster!
It had been a fantastic plan for a New Year's party. You and Mistress are going out to a little nightclub - you hadn't been much of a clubbing person before domestication, but your Mistress reassured you that you'd enjoy it, and She always knows best. She dressed you up in your fanciest clothes, coiffed your hair and painted your nails, and carried you there like your own personal limousine. If, that is, a limousine made a big fuss about how cute you are, and took liberties with where it touched you.
An Affini nightclub is quite different to a human one, it turns out, or at least this one is. The entranceway has a lot of common xenodrugs on tap for those who preferred to be a little altered during their visit - your Mistress gives you a heaping dose of Class D, a little Class E, plenty of Class A and a little sprinkle of Class C. "Careful with that one!" says the attendant in his skimpy bikini, fox ears twitching with concern. "We had a Terran in here last week who burst into tears because they pack bonded with a particularly cute bottle of shampoo."
Your Mistress beams and strokes him behind the ears, evoking some lewd moans. "I know my floret, darling, and this one needs some help getting over her hypervigilance and shyness."
You feel the contents of your head tumble up into the air and then settle back down as the drugs take hold of your system. "I, like, feel mostly the same, I think?" you say, and then giggle as you feel the very air coming out of your mouth tickle your sinuses. "Oh … that must be a lot of Class As, Miss," you ask her, pulling on her vine and nearly getting aroused simply by the texture. "I guess I'll be quite the party slut like this …"
You get fascinated by the fox boy's fluffy ears and delicate cheekbones, drawing a single finger down his chin, to a look of adoration from the attendant and amusement from your Mistress. "I certainly hope so, and I'm glad your Class Ds are having the desired effect too." She moves you by the leash into the next room, waving the fox boy goodbye sadly before you drop into fascination again in the next room.
This is a kind of mingling space, with plenty of cosy cubbies lining the walls where curtains can hide sophonts who are feeling shy. On one side is a grand double doorway to a dancefloor, on another is a bar, and in the middle is a lift up to a second floor balcony and doors leading elsewhere. That must be where the massage parlour, the orgiatorium and the quiet cuddle rooms are.
An attendant, again in a cute skimpy bikini, offers you a little bone conduction earpiece to allow you to hear the ambient music if you wish. You accept, hearing soft, gentle synthwave beats that are strangely compelling in their rhythms - you notice the similarity to the Affini biorhythms you've heard and smile. You see some of the mingling sophonts here swaying to the pulse, making dresses swish and hips pop, as they drink colourful beverages, chat, make out, cuddle and more. A few less shy couples and throuples have 'forgotten' to close the curtain of their cubbies, and you giggle and roll your eyes at their displays. Drawing several sophonts' eyes, including your Mistress's seven, is an Affini shambling round on a leash, being pulled around by another, shorter Affini. Affini who, shall we say, want to be on the other side of domestication are certainly not unknown, but they are decidedly unusual. Not that your Mistress is displeased with the display.
You get fixated on a beautiful Terran woman wearing a backless green dress. Her wavy teal hair and blushing cheeks make her not only colourful but elegant and beautiful. You decide to tell her so.
"You're, like, as pretty as a picture. Like, a good one. A Dutch seventeenth-century master's portrait or some shit, maybe, I don't know art that good, not a Rubens, though," you slur through your Class Es, enjoying the dance of air around your skin and reflecting on how much of it came from her.
She blushes hotly and looks away. "You're … you're pretty too. Are you … taken?"
You grin and jerk a thumb back at your Mistress, answering: "Yeah, I belong to this big dork here. She's so cute and kind …" You shut your eyes for a moment, stimming with joy at the thought of your Mistress.
The beautiful woman takes a small step back. "Well, if you're not … I mean, is she … okay with …"
"Okay with me flirting and cuddling and fucking? Oh yeah, she loves it when I'm happy!" You giggle. "It's not like a twenty-fourth century marriage, sweetie. She is always in control, so if I am doing something, you can assume she likes it too."
She nods and gulps, taking a deep breath. "So um … you seem very comfortable in a club!"
You giggle again. "I guess I am!" Your Mistress rewards you with a pat on the head that makes you moan with unrestrainable pleasure. "... Sorry," you explain, "she's got me on some drugs that help with, like, clubbing and stuff. I used to be a shy lil … bookworm? Nerd? One of those kinds of words." You giggle and stick out your tongue cutely. "But I always wanted to get out and like, explore the party scene, slut it up, be the airheaded eyecandy sometimes, you know? So she helps me with that."
Intrigued, the woman touches your arm with her finger, and you let out a muffled squeak of delight as your eyelids flutter. She recoils immediately. "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to … I was just interested in …"
"Interested in?" you ask, holding her hand in yours and raising an eyebrow. Your interlocked hands create a symphony of sensation you can just about process.
"Interested in… your story, I suppose. My name is Alice. I lived at a remote missionary college until last year when the Affini -" she glances up at your Mistress with a mixture of admiration and fear - "liberated us and brought us to this ship. We weren't allowed music, or unauthorised touching, or caffeine, so …" She gestures around her. "All this is quite bizarre to me. What even is a floret? Is it a punishment? I know the rector and his deputies were domesticated, so what does it mean that half these other people are too?" Her hand gestures are forced and tense, and her pretty face distorts with some quiet terror.
"Sweetie, are you okay?" asks your Mistress, her resonant voice cutting through like the sun's warmth through the delicate frost.
Alice blinks away a tear. "Y-yeah I'm fine, I -" she takes a deep breath - "my therapist told me to do one thing this week that I really wanted to try but hadn't been allowed to before, and I thought clubbing would be a good one, and meeting new people like you is awesome, but there are too many people and weird things … sorry, unfamiliar things … and the lights are kind of bright and there's lots of overlapping conversations and …" She is shaking and hyperventilating.
Your Mistress picks her bodily off the floor into a princess carry and instructs her: "Look into my eyes and follow my lead."
She blinks and stares blearily into the Affini's hypnotic, swirling eyes of fractal crystalline facets.
"Breathe in, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Out, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11. In … Out …"
The shaking girl started to breathe more deeply, and your Mistress flowed towards an unoccupied cubby. You follow her, sprinting fast to catch up, thankful your Mistress hadn't chosen very high heels to enjoy watching you totter in them.
You are just as concerned as your Mistress. Alice needs an Affini, stat! You burst into the cubby and find her curled up in your Owner's lap. You close the curtain behind you and sit beside the two. "It's okay," you say as her hyperventilating returns, patting her soft hair. "It's okay."
"I embarrassed myself!" she sobs, scratching at her own arms. "I knew I shouldn't have come here! I can't be with people! I'm too weak and sensitive."
You continue to pet her - now as much aesthetically fascinated with her as comforting her, thanks to your cocktail of drugs - while your Mistress dispenses the wisdom.
"Sweetie, there's nothing embarrassing about getting overwhelmed, and clearly you wanted something out of this experience, so I would encourage you to come back again! Maybe if we get to know each other, in a slower, calmer environment, we can come back together, and make sure you don't get this overwhelmed."
You nod vigorously, shaking a few more brain cells loose. "That's right. You're also really cute and pretty and I want more people to see how cute and pretty you are and to see more of you myself!" you babble.
She chuckles a little. "I … I didn't make a fool of myself?"
You shake your head. "Nope! This is super normal, believe me. I was doing this the first few times I went to a bar!"
Your Affini beams down at you. "This one has also been made a literal fool, but that was my floret's deliberate choice." You stick out your tongue at her and giggle.
"Now I would like to inject you with some Class E xenodrugs to help with your anxiety, would that be okay?" your Mistress asks.
She considers for a moment, bites her lip, clearly conflicted about something, and then grimly nods. "I came here to try new things, so that's what I am going to do."
As the needle enters and leaves in a split second, her pretty grey eyes unfocus for a moment, and though they gain their focus back, they remain dilated. She holds a hand up to her face. "Well, I'm very much calmer … thank you … but …"
"But?" Mistress asks.
"But my body feels like it's on a delay timer," she says very deliberately, trying to avoid the drunk-sounding slurring you have long given up trying to avoid.
"It's weird isn't it?" you say, hugging her close, forgetting how sensitive you currently are, and stifling a moan of arousal. She looks … well, uncomfortable, but also hungry. She doesn't recoil this time, but instead shifts her weight back towards you.
"What … what is it that makes her react like that?" she asks.
"Class As. They heighten physical sensitivity, greatly. Excellent for cuddle puddles and making Terrans weak at the knees." Your Mistress grins down at her in a predatory way, and she blushes.
"N- not today, thank you," she stammers, "let's take this slowly."
You bite your lip and cross your legs as pressure builds within you. "Ummmm, yeah, good idea … How about, Mistress, you sit in the middle, we both chat and cuddle while we put some TV on? Might make it, like, less intense than just a conversation."
"Sounds good," your Mistress says, and she arranges the three of you so that you are both on her lap, but not quite touching each other. You don't mind being horny in her presence - what was wrong with being horny, anyway? - but you don't want to violate her boundaries or personal space. She looks exceedingly comfortable in your Owner's vines as the TV starts playing, while you are constantly squirming, Her vines skilfully keeping you on the edge of orgasm and therefore preternaturally focused for a floret on such a hefty cocktail of xenodrugs.
***
It's the bunny-eared floret from last time in her trademark leotard and stockings, this time without her leafy green Affini visible (although almost certainly behind the camera). She's standing outdoors, her bare stockinged feet lost in the street's short fluffy grass. "H-hi!" she says, smiling and lightly blushing. "I'm Valentina Fennel, First Floret, and welcome to Valley's Variety Visits!" She bounces lightly, setting her plush body jiggling.
She gestures behind her at a painfully cute little café, with striped blue, white and pink awnings outside some long, wide windows ornamented with painted spiralling patterns of bright green vines. The sign above the Affini-sized double door reads "Cutie-pie!" in a cheerful distorted san serif, with a cartoon illustration of a slice of cherry pie. "Here on Triple V, our first visit will be to this innovative Class-J café! Here at Cutie-pie, they've had the bright idea to put their Class-J starters not in drinks, but in pies!" Valley sounds very excited.
The shot cuts to an interview with a relatively small Affini, as much short moss and mushroom caps as plant, at least to look at. "Hello little bunny!" he exclaims with a smile. "It's nice to see you in the flesh - my florets love your programme." He extends a long, crooked vine to pat Valley's fluffy ears.
She squeaks a little and bites her lip. "Um! Thank you! Er, would you like to introduce yourself, and what gave you this idea?"
"I'm Portobello Flavoparmelio, Fifteenth Bloom, he/him, and my floret, little Champignon -"
"She/her!" pipes up a small, nervous red-haired Terran girl from over Portobello's shoulder. She stands on a little ledge that allows her to keep the right height above the kitchen countertops.
"- that's right, my lil girl floret Champy -" continues Portobello, provoking a blush from Champignon - "she loves to cook, and when we opened this joint, we both felt terribly sad that most of the florets ended up just having the J-drinks and then not being able to appreciate her wonderful culinary artistry."
Champignon blushes again, harder, and she bites her lip slightly as she continues to busy herself with cooking prep.
"She's such a good girl, and please do give her lots of praise, she's earned it," continues Portobello.
"She's a wonderful floret!" sys Valley, bouncily. "She looks so professional at … whatever she's doing!"
Champignon nearly drops the knife, and rubs her thighs together, red as a beetroot.
“So we decided - well, I decided, she doesn’t exactly get to do that any more - that the J-formulas could be injected into a pie after it’s come out of the oven!” Portobello sways gently with excitement. “That way, sophonts can enjoy my adorable little one’s brilliant creations.”
Champignon nods furiously and mewls quietly. “S-so,” she began, haltingly, “I decided to showcase chicken for you today.” She shuts her eyes and displays to the camera a tray of lab-grown entire oven-ready chickens.
Portobello ruffles her hair with a soft fungoid appendage. “I custom tuned the meat synthesisers myself - it was a very fun challenge to make the kind of chicken ancient earthlings enjoyed!”
Champignon takes a deep breath and seems to calm down. Perhaps her implant had delivered a little Class E to calm her shyness and evident arousal. “Th-that’s right. Most Terrans, especially from the colonies, know chicken as a kind of generic white spongy material, but it-it actually comes from an animal originally, like beef! We believe these creatures were called ‘turkey dinosaurs’, based on some literary references we saw.”
Portobello grins. “Only Affini science could take some archeological remains of five hundred-year-old bones and extrapolate what these ‘turkey dinosaurs’ might have looked like.” He shows the camera a picture of a strange, slimy creature with a fearsome, jagged beak, short forearms tipped with sharp talons, and some ornamental feathers on the head. “Terrifying, isn’t it?”
Champignon shudders and nuzzles her head against her Affini. “W-well, we understand their culinary uses a lot better than their behaviour and stuff. So today, we’re going to be making three kinds of chicken pie. The first is a classic chicken pot pie; the second is a chicken tikka pie, inspired by the rich multicultural cuisine of ancient Bradford; and the third is a little creation of my own, a Szechuan chicken pie.”
Portobello picks up Valley and cuddles her, provoking a happy sigh. “So, Valley, want to get the full Class-J café experience, with extra behind the scenes access?”
Valley nods furiously. “Yes please! I love being on Class Js! They make me feel all spinny. But hopefully,” she asks, playing with a little thin vine Portobello has unfurled in front of her face, “before I get too high, we can have a look at some of Champy’s amazing, famous recipes?”
Portobello gives a wicked smile. “But of course, sweetie. You’ll be sampling the pies as you watch them being made!” With one of the vines from his back, he reaches for a little tray with three small individual pies on it, their little earthenware pots standing on a dimpled, bespoke long plate shaped like a leaf. “Here’s our J-Tray, as we call it.” He pulls out a spoon and starts feeding Valley in classic Affini style, using vine gestures to tell her when to open her mouth, when to bite down and when to swallow. “First up, the chicken pot pie. What are your thoughts, Valley?”
“Mmmmnmmm is yummy!” she says, literal stars forming in her eyes - that must have been a fun surgical implant to get.
Champy, blushing furiously from the avalanche of praise earlier, wipes some sweat from her brow and stammers: “W-well, l-let’s get started on the cooking …”
***
Alice seems confused by, well, all of this. “What is … err … why is she … being fed like that? Why are … what are Class Js?” she bursts out. “Why is Champignon behaving like that, and why are the other two embarrassing her?”
Your Mistress pauses the programme. “Class Js help make our florets even more … petlike, shall we say. Simplifies them, removes inhibitions and worries, makes them creatures of pure cuddle and pleasure. Only on a temporary basis, usually, although some florets spend more time on them than off. As for the other questions …”
She uses a vine to grab at your sensitive areas, making you stifle a scream of arousal as pleasure bursts across your body, grinning at Alice all the while. “We enjoy making our florets happy, so why would we make them ashamed of any kind of pleasure?”
Alice blushes hotly and stares at you, so you give her a lewd, happy wink. “Mmmmf, I …” you say, between gasps, “I think Alice is, like …” you gasp again as the tip of your Mistress’s vine grazes a particularly sensitive spot, “caught between horny and scared, maybe?”
Your Mistress nods. “I think so too. So the shuttlecock is in your net, Alice. You can stay scared on the edge of pleasure, never venturing in, or you can dive in deep with me and see how little there is to be frightened of.”
Alice gives a little nod. “Can you … ummmm … can you … give me some of those Class As? They aren’t permanent, are they?”
Your Mistress shakes her head and with the whipcrack speed of a viper, injects the pretty girl in the back of the neck. “Not at all, little one. How do you feel?”
Alice’s eyes dilate slightly and she breathes a little more deeply. “I feel … normal?”
Your Mistress lightly taps her shoulder with a vine, and Alice lets out an animal cry of elation, which she quickly stifles. “Um … what the fuck?” she mumbles. “That feels … oh my … incredible.”
Your Mistress very gently moves her over next to you, and you stroke her cheek, eliciting moans of pleasure from both of you. Your Mistress soon takes over, finding those spots on Alice’s back and thighs that fill her noisy throat and rolled-back eyes with the most pleasure.
“Now that Alice is feeling better, shall we watch some more of the programme?” your Mistress asks, and without waiting for an answer from the two of you gasping and panting, turns the TV back on.
***
Please feed this poor autistic trans lady with positive reinforcement! comments are always lovely!