Interlude 4


Interlude 4: Unfurnished

Zephryne lay in the narrow bed of her borrowed apartment and glared at the ceiling. She absolutely could not get to sleep. She rolled onto her side, slid a hand under the pillow, kicked her legs, fidgeted. She made herself hold perfectly still and count to ten. She groaned and flopped onto her back, stuck her legs straight out and crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn’t get comfortable, everything felt like a tangle. Bugger! What did people do with their limbs when they slept? What did she used to do? “Bloody nuisance,” Zeph said to the empty room.

Zephryne climbed out of bed and paced, her long black-skinned legs moving smoothly, her narrow feet quietly slapping the floor. She crossed her arms below her small breasts and wiggled her fingers. Zeph stopped and looked into the dirty mirror and scowled at her reflection. Her bioluminescent blue eyes glowed in the darkness and her electric blue curls were a messy tangle. “Don’t you bloody dare,” she said to herself.

Zeph started to pace again, stopped, grimaced, walked back to the bed, sat on it, laid down, sat up, stood, paced, and stopped again. “Bollocks.”

Zephryne dropped to her knees, bent forward, and propped herself up on her elbows. She sighed happily and stretched out her neck to look straight ahead. Zeph felt herself relax into the familiar posture and the tension melt out of her body. This! This felt natural. Felt right. Still.

Except Zeph knew it would feel even better if someone rested their feet on her bare back.

Would feel even better if someone used her.

Used her as their stool.

“Oh fuck!” 

Zeph felt a tremble in her chest and her eyes sting. Why did she still want this? She was free wasn’t she? Granted an early end to her Indenture by The Serpent in an unexpected jubilee. She was human again, Shaped back into her original body, given back her arms and hands and legs and feet. Her mind had been fixed, all of the Special Conditioning and Reward Behaviors removed. She was a woman again, not living furniture.

So why did she still want to be a stool?


As Zephryne rested on her knees and elbows she reflected on her predicament. She thought about her years of foolhardy freedom, of leaving her parents and taking up with Abruptly and Q and Halley-14. The art and the parties and the sex and the drugs. The drugs and the drug dealing. The drug dealing and The Syndicate. The Syndicate and that one stupid fucking wild idiotic night when they’d blown through her entire bloody drug supply without earning a shred of currency. The fear, the complete fucking terror. The panicky urge to flee. The certainty that the Syndicate was about to kill her. Or kill her friends. Or kill Halley. The overwhelming guilt that it was all her own bloody fault. The completely unfair reality that broken things can’t be magically set right. 

Zeph remembered giving herself up, sort of; maybe she’d been a little bit caught on the edge of pulling a runner. Not that she’d had anywhere to go, and not that she would’ve left Halley in the lurch, but anyway a giant Syndicate enforcer called Boomslang tracked her down and brought her to The Dragon. Zeph remembered being sat across a steel table from Krait, a human gangster with a mask of dark scales and the eyes of a snake. Krait’s hair rattled alarmingly whenever she moved and Zeph had thought she was sexy, or might have, if she wasn’t so fucking scared. Krait had looked at her like meat, like a commodity, her eyes cold and calculating, more a merchant judging wares than a murderer. Krait had told her she was going to be punished, but that she had a choice to make: she could die or she could take Indenture and work off her debt to The Syndicate. Which, bloody obviously Zeph took the Indenture.

Zephryne shivered remembering her time as a slave. The day they shaved off her brilliant blue hair and fit her neck with the heavy metal Control Collar which electrocuted the disobedient and decapitated runaways. The collar that would sometimes malfunction and randomly blow the head off some poor sodding bastard. Zeph could still taste the thin milky Servants Gruel, bland white nutritional sludge with the chemical aftertaste of Compliance sedative. She could still feel the scratchy synthetic grey jumpsuit and the hard little cot. Zeph remembered the days and weeks and months of working in a Breakyard as an indistinct blur of yanking exotic crystals out of rusty consoles. Her hands could still feel the muscle memory of prying and bending and twisting, and the sting of a million sharp edges. She could still feel the numb emotional footprint of being an automaton. 

Zeph was shamelessly grateful to have escaped that Breakyard purgatory.

Zeph remembered the day The Serpent had come shopping. She’d slithered through the Breakyard, huge and beautiful and commanding, her brilliant indigo feathers the most vibrant thing in the world. She'd inspected her Indentured sapients, her belongings, sometimes pointing out one or another, having them step forward to be appraised. This human girl elevated to be a pretty new house slave. This man perhaps a porter, if only he were better looking. Perhaps this Reptilian would like to fight for his freedom in The Arena? As The Serpent grew closer Zeph had recognized something about her, about the way she moved maybe, about her voice between the hisses. And then she saw her face: Halley’s face! The face of her best friend! The face of her lover! What was she doing here? Was she in trouble too? Was she here to rescue her!? Zeph had been so confused, everything was so dizzy and dreamlike. She had looked right up at The Serpent and drowsily asked: “Halley?”

The Serpent had stopped, reared up, “What did you juSsst call me?”

“Halley? It’s you isn’t it?” Zephryne had stood, reached out her arms for a hug. “It’s me, Zeph!”

Reptilian bodyguards had grabbed her, held her, but the Serpent looked more curious than angry. She tasted the air with a forked tongue, “YeSss. I will have thiSss one.” She turned to slither away on her enormous armored tail and gestured, “Bring her, I have Sssomething Ssspecial in mind.”


Zeph’s neck was starting to ache from holding up her head, and her back and knees and elbows hurt. Resting like this might still be comforting, but her body wasn’t built for it anymore. Zephryne grit her teeth, stretched her back and shook out her hips, like she used to, but it was no use, the pain in her joints was only getting worse. She whimpered and collapsed to the floor, rolled onto her back on the thin ratty carpet, and felt tears in her eyes. Did she actually miss her footstool body?

Zephryne thought about the months spent being made into furniture. She remembered being brought to the Pyramid and pumped so full of Bliss and Compliance that she was joyful and easy. She remembered floating on that giggly chemical cloud when she met the mouthless Shaper who melted away her arms and legs. The giddy disbelief of looking down at her arm stumps, the silly problem of her suddenly itchy nose. Zeph remembered the dozens of sessions spent strengthening her body and adjusting her shoulders and hips and neck, of artfully fusing her limbs with her beautiful wooden frame. She remembered the cosmetic changes: of having her arse sculpted, of growing four extra tits, the incredible orgasmic feeling of her breasts expanding to almost brush the floor. The achingly perfect frustration of not being able to touch them, not being able to fuck herself, of only being able to rest on her frame, naked and vulnerable and horny. Zeph remembered the internal changes, the burning prickle of synesthesia as her nerves were reworked so that her naked back was an erogenous zone, the indescribable feeling of having her brain altered to amplify her pleasure. That very first time the Shaper had perched gently on her back and the flood of almost unbearable pleasure she'd felt in her entire body. Zeph remembered the Psychic too, the horrible blind eunuch, who sat with her in the dark, murmuring to her in a voice that touched her mind. How he rewrote her psyche to believe that she was happy being furniture, that she craved being used, that submission was delicious, that she was always meant to be a stool. To love being a stool. To love belonging to The Serpent. To love being an object. To feel natural and complete and content.

Zephryne remembered the day she was gifted to her Mistress. She had been carried into the Private Study and placed in front of her first Chair. She was freshly washed and oiled, her hair perfectly braided and styled, and her six nipples were hung with tassels. She had felt so nervous and excited, shy and proud of her beautiful new body, terribly naked, and filled with a deep throbbing expectation. She was so totally ready to be used! And then her Mistress had arrived, so beautiful and dangerous and sexy! Zeph felt something like worship. She wanted to serve her so badly! It was her purpose! Her back tingled and her nipples grew hard and her cunt drooled. She wanted to be used, but didn't dare speak; a good stool was always quiet. The Serpent slithered around the room and settled into Chair who hissed in pleasure. Zeph felt her heart flutter in her chest and her back ache to be touched. The Serpent slowly draped her long tail over Zephryne and gradually rested it upon her. Pure pleasure erupted in her body! She felt waves of euphoria radiate from the weight on her back! Raw stimulation raced to her pussy, to her tits, to her brain! She squealed and had an orgasm! Writhed the parts of her body that could still writhe! Bloody fucking fuck! She was perfection! And the moment went on and on and on! Wave after wave of orgasm rolled through her as the heavy tail kept pressing onto her! Zephyne wailed and shivered, her sides heaving, her mind washed out in a delirious tide of sex. Until sometime later, minutes or hours, she had no idea, The Serpent lifted herself and left the room, leaving Zeph panting and bereft and desperate to be used again.

Zeph curled into the fetal position on the floor, wondering if she would ever feel that way again.


<Of course, I shall help however I can.> Sang the voice in her mind.

Zephryne shifted nervously in the dark room filled with the odd smelling fog; psychics gave her the willies. But bloody hell, she shouldn't be thinking that now! The bright green alien blinked her big silvery eyes and smiled beatifically with plump lips. She felt a mental caress of mirth and received: <No offense is taken.>

Zeph took a deep breath and smiled apologetically at Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch. The Andromedan psychic was one of Flotsam's most gifted psychics and an expert in the Human mental operating system. If there was any sapient who could fix Zeph's poor mind and remove whatever lingering Special Conditioning had her fixated on being a footstool, it was her. The green-skinned alien resembled a remarkably beautiful bald human woman dressed in shimmering robes that hugged an elegant feminine body and she smelled like a field of wildflowers on a summer day. Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch studied Zeph's face and her slender antenna swayed gently above her forehead. <I will need to touch you for this to work.>

"Of, of course."

<Then sit.>

Zephryne sat on the soft floor and crossed her legs. Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch knelt gracefully in front of her and licked her lips with a narrow blue tongue. She grasped Zeph by the back of the head with long warm fingers then leaned forward so her antenna could touch Zephryne’s forehead. Zeph felt the antenna suction onto her skin and she tried to lurch away, but Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch held her still. Zeph sensed politeness and command: <Try not to move and please close your eyes.>

Zeph closed her eyes and did her best not to fidget. She felt a presence, something like an animate pressure in her thoughts, felt it swim through her mind like a fish made from the concept of light. The antenna on her forehead released, slid across her skin, repositioned, paused and groped, pushed into her hair and adhered to her scalp. The strange mental sensations came and went, dipping in and out, questing from different angles and focusing on different phrenic facets. Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch psychic touch was crisp and professional and courteous and careful, so different from the crude fumbling edifices of the Serpent's eunuch; a healer artist instead of a gangster's hypnotist. Finally Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch released her head and sat back in a rustle of silver fabric. Zeph felt apology and regret: <There is nothing I can do for you.>

"What?" Zeph frowned. "Why not?"

<There is no foreign influence on your mind. There is nothing for me to correct.>

"Then why do I still want to be furniture!?"

Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch moues and adjusts her antenna. Zeph sensed a brisk bedside manner: <Your mind has been changed by your experience. Your body and consciousness were altered to find submission pleasurable and your mind was trained to find joy and gratification in the specific mode of this submission.> Zephryne felt the idea of a flowering vine growing through a trellis. <A human's mind is always adapting; it is analogous to a plant growing. The Special Conditioning you were given created a framework that guided your mind into a specific new shape.>

"But they told me they removed the programs..."

<The spoke truthfully: the Special Conditioning has been excised. However, your mind still bears its new adapted shape. This is part of who you are now.>

Zephryne felt her stomach drop, "Oh bloody hell! I'm stuck like this!?" Stuck as a woman desperate to be a sexy footstool?

Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch smiled encouragingly: <Yes.>

Zeph dropped her face into her hands. "What am I going to do!?"

<Learn to embrace your new kink.>


Zephryne stood nervously on the pitted steel belly of the derelict freighter, her beacon pulsing bright green in the evening dim. She hugged herself against the chill Junk Desert air and wondered if she was making a mistake. When she reached out to her former friends, her former lovers, it had seemed like a good idea to reconnect with her old life. They had all been family, hadn't they? Inseparable comrades in the adventure of being alive? Except Abruptly was now Tranquil and had sent a polite letter explaining they had rejoined polite Blue Society and were not interested in reconciling. Q had simply not returned her messages. Halley-14, dearest Halley, had messaged her back right away, almost begged for them to meet, but out here in the Junk instead of the city. Which seemed odd, but who was she to judge? So here she was standing on a worthless hulk beyond the mesa's nebulous boundary, waiting for her friend and worrying. In the distance she saw an answering green flash from another beacon.

It seemed like forever since Zeph had seen Halley, well Halley-14, since she’d spent years resting inches from Halley-20 while serving The Serpent. But Chair was her chair, and the two had a nearly elemental connection outside of whatever relationship they might've shared as people. They were a matched set. Halley-14 was different, and had once been so important to Zeph. She was her best friend forever, her exotic Earthling lover, and her partner in actual crimes. Except who was she now? Zeph knew she herself had changed, that her brash fearless young self was older now and filled with a healthy fear of the world that made her timid. And she was sexually obsessed with being a stool. Who was Halley now? Had she changed? Would they recognize each other or be strangers? Zephryne had no idea what to expect. The distant green beacon became a fast approaching skiff, so she'd have her answers soon. "Too late to back out now."

The skiff did a rickety orbit of Zephryne and drifted to hover parallel to Zeph's perch. It was a small affair, just a platform with an improvised fuselage and a boxy antigravity engine from some shitty old wreck. There were three figures aboard wearing colourful skintight outfits. Near the bow was a woman wearing a tight cerulean dress with a veil and hood that hid her face and legs. The outfit was sleeveless exposing the ten long tentacles she had instead of arms and Zeph could see more tentacles squirming out from below the hem of her skirt. The skiff pilot was a very tall woman dressed in purple and wearing bulky goggles. She had an elongated neck and extra long limbs, like a woman stretched vertically into a living mast. She leered at Zeph with a too wide mouth and flicked a long flexible tail. And there was Halley! Except Halley had gone weird: her face was stretched out like some kind of equid animal and she had a huge twisted penis growing out of her forehead like a horn. She was squeezed into a pink bodysuit that showed off her enormous breasts and her swollen hindquarters and the huge bulge of a bestial cock between her legs. She had hooves and white fur and a long glorious equine tail. "Halley?" Zeph said to her, anxiety bubbling.

"Ha ha ha," said a strange electronic voice. "Sister Equestria is Halley-21." The cerulean clad figure raised three of her right tentacles and waved them in greeting, "I'm Halley-14, but these days I'm called Sister Superior Teuthida. But for you I'll always be Halley."

Zephryne blinked her eyes and looked from the pink equid Halley to the masked cerulean squiddy Halley. Was everyone on this planet a Halley now? Just how many of them were there? "Hi," she said kind of lamely.

"It's a blessed delight to see you!" her Halley said using that weird robotic voice. "I'm overjoyed that you are free! It seems that He-Who-Slumbers answered my many prayers for your safety and deliverance!"

"Uh, thanks. It's really nice to see you too." Zeph shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. This wasn't what she was expecting. "I'm glad you found a new home..."

Halley stretched out her tentacles, "Not just a home, but a Calling! When you disappeared I became so lost, so broken, and really sunk down to a dark place." She reached out some tentacles as if to beg silence, "I don't blame you, or if I did, I forgave you a long time ago, and honestly I was mostly just worried for you. Besides, it's not like I was blameless either. We were both punished, each in our own way." Halley’s hood and veil contracted to reveal her face. Zephryne gasped, took an involuntary step backward. Halley's head was covered in thick tentacles instead of hair and her mouth was hidden behind more tentacles which hung past her chin like a beard. Halley's many head tentacles twisted and squirmed and she smiled with her familiar violet eyes. "I view it all as a Trial with a happy ending. Not to get all Born Again on you, but I've found my Path and decided to Become the Light that Guides my God Home." She lifted her arm tentacles as if reaching out to Zephryne, "I would love it if you joined our Convent and came to meet The Sleeping God. Maybe He has a Plan for you?"

Zephryne felt a chill go down her spine and swallowed. This wasn't Halley talking to her, this was Sister Superior Teuthida, and she was offering something other than friendship. Zeph had spent too much of her life semi-voluntarily brainwashed not to recognize it in others. "That's quite kind of you, but I'm still sorting myself out, right? Finding the new me." Zeph shook her head and glanced at her rented hoverbike. "I'm not ready for a commitment."

"Ah crap! I've gone and come off too Churchy! Sorry! I really didn't mean to! It's so easy to get swept away." Teuthida wiggles her tentacles contritely. "Look, I'd love to buy you a meal so we could chat properly, but my Convent isn't allowed in the city right now because of a misunderstanding. What if you came for a visit to our Temple? I could give you a safe place to sleep for a few days and we could catch up. I promise no more religion talk! I know how hard it is to rebuild a life and I want to do anything I can to help you. You're very special to me."

Zeph almost said yes. She desperately missed Halley and the life she had before. Zeph knew there was no going back, that Halley was obviously and disturbingly different, but the idea of falling into her embrace, tentacled as it might be, was sorely tempting. So was the offer of a place to stay; her cousin was almost back from Orbit and he'd want his apartment. Zephryne had no savings, no job, and very few favors left, if she wasn't careful she'd end up destitute in another Breakyard. Staying in a weird convent was better than that, almost anything was. Part of her wanted to climb onto that skiff and fly away with Sister Superior Teuthida and Sister Equestria and their too tall friend. It would be easy. 

But Zephryne knew it would also be giving away her freedom.

And she was never going to do that again.

"Thank you," she said, her face wistful and sad, "but I'm not ready to leave the city yet."

"I understand," Sister Superior Teuthida said, "but if you ever change your mind I'll be waiting for you with open limbs."


Zephryne stood in the dark Sexbox lobby and tried not to throw up. There were so many bodies on display here, beautiful women and men and other, completely undressed, or dressed in a way that was somehow worse. Tits and thighs and cocks and cunts and limbs and faces posed to be bored or horny or haughty or inviting. Bodies on sale. Sapients displayed like sexy toys in a retail window. Like furniture for fucking. Like Zephryne when she’d been an object. A possession. Zeph clenched her fists, it reminded her too much of The Dragon's study. She wasn't ready to be here. Bloody fuck this was another bad idea! Zeph dragged her eyes away from the Sex Workers and to the front desk where a primly dressed woman with severe blonde hair was scowling at her. 

"Can I help you?" the Madame said icily.

"I'm here to see Aceaia, I have an appointment."

"Splendid," the Madame said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. 

"Sure you're up for it, Darling?" asked an old woman with a huge hammer and leather armor, looking more like a gladiator than a prostitute. 


"You're looking rather green and we charge extra for puke play." The old hag leered at her with awful teeth. 

"Matron, please don't kink shame," said another woman. She was dressed in a gauzy gown that showed off her slight body and the large dark nipples on her tiny breasts. Her dark hair hung in long waves and her eyes were two huge black pools. Those eyes studied Zephryne like gravity, "Besides, I sense this guest has a rather different fascination."

The old hag guffawed, "Well, if you spew, we'll still bill you!"

"Charming," said the Madame. "But accurate."

"I'm Aceaia," the woman with the bottomless eyes said quietly. "Please follow me."

Zephryne eagerly fell into step behind Aceaia, delighted to get away from the sexual showcase and the dour Madame and that horrible hammer Matron. Aceaia led Zeph down a richly appointed hallway past rows of heavy steel doors. She eventually chose a door, opened it, and gestured for Zeph to enter. Zephryne nodded and walked into a small dark room with a rubberized floor and neutral grey walls studded with anchor points. In the middle of the room were two chairs resting on a wide shaggy rug. One of the chairs was a big plush armchair with a tall winged backrest and elegant armrests that reminded Zeph of her beloved Chair, Halley-20. Zeph felt a little thrill and her heart started to beat a faster. Bugger, just the sight of such a luxurious chair was enough to get her motor running. Zeph dragged her eyes off the armchair and onto the other seat, which was just a humble folding metal chair. The two chairs were positioned facing each other, face-to-face, with not even a half step of space between them. Aceaia walked gracefully over to the armchair and sat down. She settled back into it and her feet just barely reached the floor. Aceaia gestured at the empty folding chair, "Please sit down."

Zeph nodded and sat on the metal chair trying to ignore the growing warmth in her belly. 

"What do you know about me?" Aceaia asked. They were seated so close their knees were almost touching.

"Not a lot, really. Just that Sensation-Of-Dawns-First-Warm-Touch thought you might be able to help me."

Aceaia smiled and nodded, "I have a Knack, a special talent. I'm an Empath." Zeph gasped as she felt Aceaia stroke a bare foot up along her shin. "I experience the strong emotions of humans around me and can sense their desires." Her foot rested lightly on Zephryne's knee, unignorable. "I use my Knack to help people explore their repressed sexual desires." She dragged her other bare foot up Zephryne's leg and rested it on her other knee. Zephryne shivered in her seat. "I want to help you come to terms with your kink."

Zephryne squirmed, she was starting to breathe heavily. Her pussy was wet. "But I don't want to feel this way! This isn't really me..."

Aceaia stretched out her thin legs and pushed her feet up into Zeph's lap. She was resting her feet on Zeph. Like she was a stool. Aceaia's cheeks were flushed and she was panting a little. "Part of my Knack is that I experience you're arousal." She ground her heels into Zeph's lap, making Zephryne moan. "Mmm... I get off when you get off. There's no denying me what you feel."

Zephryne felt breathless and so hot. "But..."

"Be my stool, Zeph."

"But I don't want to!"

"Yes, you do." 

Aceaia pushed her foot into Zeph's chest, "Get down on the floor and be my footstool."

Zeph moaned and fell out of her chair, knocking it aside with a rattle. 

She dropped to her knees and frantically pulled off her shirt. 

She bent over and rested her elbows on the carpet. 

She stretched out her back, lifted it, hungry to be used. 

Her heart was hammering and her pussy was throbbing with arousal. 

Oh bloody fuck! Oh bugger!

Aceaia moaned and lowered her feet onto Zephryne's back.

Zephryne groaned and shuddered as she felt the warm skin of Aceaia's heels on her skin, felt the weight of legs on her body.

She felt dirty and euphoric and sexy and right!

"You love this!" Aceaia gasped. "You're a perfect stool!"

Zeph whimpered helplessly.

Aceaia pressed down harder on Zeph and whined: "Tell me! Tell me what you are!"

"I'm a stool! A footstool!"

"Yesss....." hissed Aceaia, her gown hiked up, her hand rubbing her cunt. "Yes! You're my fucking stool! My furniture!"

"Oh bugger me!" Zeph whined, jamming one of her hands into her trousers, furiously grabbing her boiling cunt. "Fuck!"

Aceaia kicked her feet on Zeph's back and orgasmed, "Fuck... oh fuck... you filthy fucking footstool! Fucking Ahhhhhhh..." 

Zeph clenched her teeth and threw back her head and came. "Ohhhhhh....."



"Hah... Ahhh..." Aceaia gasped.


"You're incredible... Amazing..." Aceaia panted, "You can't deny yourself this."

"No." Zephryne couldn't, she really couldn't. This was what she wanted. It was perfect. "This, this is what I'm for. My purpose."

"Yes." Aceaia hadn't taken her feet off Zeph.

"But what do I do now?"

"You find a balance between the life you want and the kink you have."


"That's always a puzzle," Aceaia settled back in the armchair and crossed her legs on Zephryne's back. "You can always come play with me for a fee, but I think we can do better."

"What do you mean?"

"You need a job, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I have a friend you should meet."


Zephryne locked the shop door and switched the hologram over to Closed. She went through her mental checklist: the floors had been swept, the clothing samples were hung, draped, or folded, she'd double checked the printers were running, she'd refilled the overnight feedstocks, and she’d already packed up all the finished orders for the Pony Express courier to pick up in the morning. Check, check, check, check, and check. She leaned against the door and sighed, working retail was exhausting, even if she was just the shopkeeper and not the boss. But at least she had a job and a home.

"Zephryne, have you finished?" Illandra called from the office in the back.

"Yes, coming!" Zephryne checked that the door was locked and skipped to join her boss. 

Illandra was seated in her favorite chair amidst a constellation of holograms. It was simple and elegant like the clothier, a simple leather seat supported by clever trestles made of actual wood. It wasn't the kind of plush upholstery that Zeph liked, but she had to admit it suited her boss. Illandra looked up from her fashion design or accounting to gaze sternly at Zeph, "Is everything in order?"

"Sure is Boss," Zeph said with a smile, happy to please her mistress. Illandra was a handsome woman, at least ten years her senior, with greying hair and a face lined with experience. She was dressed in a signature black dress and shawl printed with in a noisy traditional Blue pattern. Illandra had already kicked off her very expensive ankle boots and her bare feet were resting on the floor. "Well then get over here," Illandra said while looking back at her screens, "my feet are tired."

"Yes Mistress," Zeph said while feeling the familiar butterflies in her stomach. She stepped out of her designer heels and carefully took off her smart little dress and tights and underwear. She stretched out her naked body and rolled her neck.

"Today, please." Illandra scolded.

"Sorry Mistress." Zephryne smiled and bit her lip, enjoying the game. She lowered herself to the floor and crawled to her Boss, stopping just in front of her bare feet. Zephryne's heart was hammering and she felt her face heat up in shame and excitement. This was always her favorite part of the workday.

"Ah," Illandra sighed, her own cheeks a bit flushed as she placed her bare feet on Zephryne's naked back. "Much better."

"Mmmm," Zeph hummed as she felt her body respond to the incredible feeling of feet touching her back.

"A footstool is silent," Illandra said with a little horny gasp. "I have work to do."

"Yes Mistress," Zephryne moaned as her face opened in a wide smile. 

She had found her new life.



  1. I love how the mental conditioning lingers even after Zephyrne is restored, glad to see she got a happy ending for herself! The description of how she was transformed by the Shaper was amazing, the way her mind was rewired and messed with was really, really cool. It's kind of rare to see body modification transformation lean into the physical side of mental fuckery, and I enjoyed seeing it here!

    1. Thanks! I thought Zeph and her transformation warranted a longer look, and I’m glad you enjoyed it! (I gotta write more inanimate TF going forward…)


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