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Cellulose & Steel	By : Not-Taylor Category: Misc Books > FemmeSlash Views: 1028 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own HDG or its characters and I don't make money from this work.

Chapter List
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No sooner does the entry to Verda’s residence shut than Ember’s leash comes off. The welcome efficiency only portends ill, as a bath is imminent. Verda doesn’t have to say anything. She doesn’t even have to smile wickedly for it to know her villainous intent. She doesn’t bother with the smile. Instead, she waits for Ember’s full attention. It looks at her from across the large front room.
“I can tell you know what’s coming.”
“You’ve warned me multiple times.”
“Will you behave?”
“...”
“Will you resist?”
The Free Terran stands silently, watching its foe. She looks completely calm, but it can sense the apprehension hiding in her vines. She wants it to obey, to choose to be “good.” She wants her slave to stop fighting and to accept her domination. Verda would rather it weren’t as independent as it is. How many times has she noted how much easier another floret would be? She probably resents its nature and hates it for its natural Terran superiority. Still… She’s going to bathe it whether or not it agrees, and if it refuses, she’ll take away any prospect of contact with the outside world.
“No,” it whispers in shame. Ember shudders at the prospect and memory of xeno vines dancing on its hull.
“Good. Since I know I won’t have to fight you next time either, this can be a short bath. I’ll download some music for you when we’re done.” As though that’s compensation. “Now, Ember.”
It walks into the bathroom as it had been commanded to, the shame burning its interior. Why did it ever agree to this? The water turns on almost automatically as it starts to undress. The Terran pauses halfway, waiting for confirmation that there’s no other alternative. Verda’s encouraging nod makes Ember feel ill. How did it get itself into this much trouble?
The affini dips a vinetip into the bath water, testing its temperature. Satisfied, she dumps a bunch of chemicals into the water, potentially to turn the “floret” straight. It’s not really a bunch. It’s a couple of drops of each, probably less total than the amount she used of any last time. A thin layer of perky bubbles covers the surface of the water as it reaches where Ember’s shoulders would come to if it were in the tub.
Verda silently slips into the water, barely making a ripple. Her tendrils fan out through the tub until she forms a web across the entire floor. She checks that her prisoner is watching, only to wordlessly lift it off of its feet and into the tub.
Almost
“Darling, you still need to remove something.”
“No I don’t.” She’s already humiliated it enough to pruning it the other day and now by removing its clothes.
“Yes, Ember, you do. What are you still wearing?”
Its attachment. Right… Ember unplugs its bonus limbs carefully. Lily must’ve done something to make them self ejecting. It’s a very nice change, or it would be, if removing the things weren’t so weird. The Terran is still able to sort of feel where they go if it thinks too hard. There’s no use. Even if taking them into the tub is probably safe (it gets the sense that weeds would waterproof everything by default), it’s probably better not to. Verda seems to agree.
Gently set in front of its captor, Ember braces once again for a washing. It triest to stay perfectly still in hopes that the humiliation is finished rapidly. Surprisingly, Verda cooperates. She doesn’t seem to waste time. Between attestations to Ember’s “obedience” and “good manners,” she works quickly. This time, the affini starts with her captive’s hair, gently massaging its scalp and rinsing through to the ends. It hates the way the body wash makes its skin tingle when Verda touches it and the way its breathing becomes louder as she works the conditioner through its hair.
Maybe the Terran’s sense of time is warped, but it thinks they finished more quickly than it could’ve showered. That would be good if it were true. It can still feel the gentle pressure of plant matter on its limbs.
Drying, on the other hand, isn’t quick. Verda takes her time, ensuring that every millimeter of her charge is completely dry. It doesn’t really mind being dry, but it would’ve rather dried itself. It especially doesn’t like that Verda uses her vines to dry it, especially knowing how their texture will affect it, being primed with xenodrugs. It can’t say she doesn’t care because that was obviously intentional. However, it can say that it hates how calm it feels. It shouldn’t feel that way after being mauled by the enemy. Ember will have to resist harder next time. It just needs to last until it can find a solution to its gardening problem…
The next thing Ember notices, it’s standing in the bedroom, watching Verda picking clothes from the wardrobe. She’s taking her time, admiring each outfit and comparing different combinations. That’s just sick. Ember never would’ve wasted that kind of time on fashion, especially when it wasn’t for Gi- It doesn’t want to think about that. It wants to think about how Terra will be saved. Even if it can’t be. But that part it doesn’t want to think about either.
The outfit Verda settles on is a sapphire shirt covered in sparkles and ruffles along the cuffs and the plunging neckline. The pants match, with equally obnoxious frills. Ember tries to move away, but Verda blocks every point of escape.
“Darling, you have to wear something.”
“Why that?”
“Because it will look cute on you! Raise your arms, please.”
With no alternative, it complies. The dressing process is mercifully short, though Verda seems to be enjoying it. She brushes her prisoner’s hair gently before forming it into some obnoxious weed style. Ember doesn’t know or want to know. It resists the urge to look at itself in the mirror when the process is complete.
“You’re adorable, Ember. Let’s go to the vet.”
“What???”
“Do you really think that yesterday’s situation was acceptable? I can’t let that happen again, when I don’t even know what happened. This is far beyond my medical competence and I refuse to be responsible if there’s something seriously wrong with you that’s fixable.”
“I don’t need fixing.”
The weed tries to make eye contact, but it refuses to humor her. “Ember. You collapsed on the ground for hours. Something is wrong with you. If you do have some obscure xenodrug allergy, wouldn’t you rather I knew about it?”
That’s probably better than dying painf- wait a minute… Dying painfully and making Verda feel guilty is the optimal outcome to punish her for her crimes against humanity. She deserves that. She and the rest of her kind deserve to suffer.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re being unreasonable and you know that, pet. This won’t hurt. The veterinarian won’t even need to sample your blood. Every scan can be done painlessly.”
“With xenodrugs.”
“Usually, but I’m sure you’ll behave well enough that that won’t be necessary. Isn’t that right, tdaiyn?”
“...”
“I will keep my word regarding our arrangement as long as you keep yours. However, your safety is far more important than anything else.”
“Fine.”
There was never a real choice, was there? Just as there was never any choice about the Accord’s surrender… She’ll just pick it up and carry it wherever they’re going. After a decent amount of travel, they arrive at what’s clearly a torture station. The caption of the Affini scrawl reads “Xenoveterinary clinic, operating during daylight and for emergencies at night.” The building referenced looks a lot like a Terran hospital: ugly cement with tiny windows and a spinning glass door in the front. The inside is much nicer, with jarringly fresh smelling air and light greens and browns everywhere. It’s typical of Affini interior design. Ember wonders how the weeds copying Terran architecture felt when they saw the real thing. Plants don’t gag, so…
Verda addresses the receptionist in Affini, who waves them through to a waiting room. Instead of sitting, Verda and Ember pass through to an examination room similar to the ones it’s been in before. This feels much more Terran, though still entirely alien. At least there are the usual diagrams of Terran anatomy here. It sits on the examination table, which is Terran size, and Verda sits on an affini size chair in the corner, dropping the leash since there’s nowhere to run.
“Good morning, cutie,” a generic looking weed in a white coat says as she enters the cell. “How are you feeling today?”
“...”
“Oh?” She looks at Verda in confusion and they speak to each other in Affini for a while. “What would you like me to call you, dear?”
“Ember.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
Verda interrupts hostilely, to the other weed’s increasing confusion. Eventually she stops looking quite as confused.
“Well, Ember, I’m Gladys Glade, second bloom. I’m your vet today. Your mistress told me that you had a fall yesterday. Please tell me about that.” She looks at Verda uncomfortably.
“I felt sick. I felt- She doesn’t want me to talk about those feelings.”
It gives a pathetic look. Victory. Booth weeds jump at the revelation. That’s right, Verda. That’s just what you asked for.
“This can be an exception, pet. Remember what I said about your health being a priority.” Her tendrils flit in small motions.
“Are you sure?”
“I am, darling.” That settles it.
“The thought of cooperating with the enemy as a Free Terran made me sick. I’ve fought too long to just give up.”
The xeno impersonating a doctor bursts out laughing. “You’re so cute! I can hardly wait to tell my florets about that. You had me for a second. But seriously, what feelings did you have?”
As Ember starts to speak, a whirring machine moves next to its head, recording it into xeno archives for the purpose of knowing how to better torment it. A Terran is always on guard.
“I just felt dizzy, I guess.” It shrugs. What’s the point? “My head hurt. It was a long day.”
The weed nods sagely. Verda speaks in Affini for a bit, leaving Ember to listen and pretend it’s not annoyed at the cessation of its lessons.
“Your mistress tells me that you had a long and stressful day prior to that, as you said. My instruments say you’re fine, if a little dehydrated. Drink more water and you’ll be fine. There’s nothing medically wrong with you at present.”
“Thank you very much, Gladys. That’s such a relief, don’t you think, Ember?”
“You said there was something wrong with me.”
“I thought there might be, but evidently there is not. Are you ready to go home?”
This is the perfect chance to say something that will incriminate her… but what?
“Then we shouldn’t take up any more of the lovely veterinarian’s time. This way, Ember.”
It was too slow. Verda escorts it out of the office with a serene air, basking in the adoring stares directed at her slave. She smiles as she moves her outer vines in slow, broad figures. Leaving doesn’t take long, but Verda continues the act until they’re across the street and at the end of the block. Then she returns to her usual calculating appearance.
“Darling, what did you mean when you felt sick at the idea of cooperating with me? Was that true?”
“Do you care, or are you looking for an excuse to drug me again?”
“We should discuss this somewhere more discrete,” she says, looking around. After typing into her tablet, the affini directs her charge to turn around and they proceed a short distance, taking a couple of turns until they arrive at a tiny park. It’s barely the footprint of the buildings around it, but it’s secluded and nobody seems to be using it. Verda points into the brush, where a bench is barely visible between some branches.
“I’ve been here before. Nobody will disturb us, so you can speak freely, pet.”
She sits and pats the part of the bench next to her. Ember doesn’t feel like sitting, so it drops onto the xeno grass instead. It’s weirdly soft and not uncomfortable at all. Verda’s hands are in her lap as she stares emotionlessly at her captive.
“I don’t like it. The idea of working with you…” It shudders.
“You agreed before. Did something change?”
“No. I still don’t want to help you hurt somebody. That would make me a monster.” Just like Verda.
“I see…” She taps a vine on her chin. “Didn’t I say nobody would be harmed?”
“But you want to harm somebody. You want to harm everyone! You want to make them like me.”
“Is being like you such a bad thing?”
“Being trapped, forced to live as a ‘pet.’ is harm. I wouldn’t want this to be inflicted on anyone.”
“You did mention that. What if I told you that you didn’t have to turn anyone in? If you didn’t believe that capturing a group would be safe, I’m sure that the system backing you up would follow your judgment. We’ll get them eventually, darling. There’s no need to take risks that will only serve to upset you.”
“But… If I make contact, won’t you just abduct them anyway?”
“Not unless you give your approval.”
“Why not? That makes no sense. Why wouldn’t you want more pets? That’s what you do.”
“Because you wanted to demonstrate something, and interfering with your project would be counterproductive.”
“But once I succeed?”
“If, Ember,” Verda says with a cautious smirk. It won’t fall for that.
“Well?”
“What answer would satisfy you?”
Nothing. “I don’t know.”
“Then how can I give it?”
“You just want to tell me what I want to hear to make me shut up.”
“No, darling. I don’t. I want to find a way to make you stop falling on the ground, and beeping at me, and changing your personality every day, and calling everyone around you an evil weed! I want to find a way to make you finally happy.” Many of her vines grip the seat around her.
“You know that isn’t possible.’
“You would be the first terran not to find peace in an affini’s care.”
“But I’m not-”
“I know, Ember.” She sighs, looking at the neighboring restaurant and a group exiting it. “I want to show you that if you can bring yourself to stop fighting me, that I can give you a life that will satisfy you.”
“You really think that’s going to work?”
“Of course it will.” She smiles weakly and distractedly. “After all, I got you to accept a prosthetic of Affini design, made of the same biomatter as our grafts, didn’t I? Would you rather not wear it any more?”
“...”
“You see? I have a better idea of you than you think, Ember.”
“If you can force me into a facsimile of happiness, that won’t change how everyone else lives. I won’t be happy, ever.”
“Perhaps, but you haven’t given this very much of a chance. Would you rather I started using xenodrugs in a more conventional way? If I don’t know you as well as I believe, that is the proper course of action.”
“Disgusting.”
“I’m pleased you have so much faith in me, little one. You’re certain to provide a good example for your coming charge.”
How’s that going to work? If it’s going to accept authority over another person (not really, it’s not a slaving xeno and so won’t even get real power over a piece of bubblegum), it should be careful. It’s the one who’s going to have to be there to make sure the egg doesn’t impale herself on her broken shell. It remembers how it felt at that stage of its development, before it finally accepted itself as a real woman.
“I can handle it.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I just know.”
“You’re still assisting us, pet. Are you sure you can handle it?”
It can use this chance as a way to tear down the whole weed empire from the inside. Of course, Ember can’t tell its chaperone that. It looks all the way up at her from its place on the ground (where pets belong, incidentally).
“Completely.”
The affini sighs, looking down on her prisoner. “Then we will proceed. Just remember that at any time before a certain point you can back away. After then… We should continue.” She rises to her regular height and changes to a more authoritative tone. “Stand, pet.”
“Why?”
“Your mistress has asked you to stand. Do it.”
“Are we talking about ourself in the third person?”
“That is a very good question, little one. Are we a badly behaved floret?”
It sits there, confused. It’s not a badly behaved floret or any kind of floret.
“Get up, Ember. We’re leaving.”
There’s no choice but to rise. As Ember walks out of the park, it feels a tug on its neck. Verda isn’t moving. She’s standing perfectly still, holding something in her arms: some vines. That’s Ember’s backpack, which Verda never reattached after its bath of torture. She smiles, holding it out, and her Terran captive walks back to put it on. Actually, it’s put on the Terran, who has no agency in the matter.
Having the two limbs come online feels much nicer than it did last time. Ember’s getting used to the sensation. They feel mostly natural now, which is really weird considering they’re xeno constructs that have no place attached in any way at all to a proper Terran. It doesn’t even need them since it still has all its natural limbs. Still, they feel correct enough that it’s able to instinctively swat away Verda’s vine as it comes to pet the entity she considers her rightful pet. After that, Ember resumes the weird balance cycle it’d been working on earlier.
“We do still have somewhere to go, darling. Shall we?”
“Fine.”
“I’d like a more polite reply, pet.”
“Yes, Verda.” It tries not to think about having said that.
“That will suffice. Thank you, darling.”
She sets off at a confident pace, casually dangling the leash behind her. She could probably pull it taut at any moment, but Ember appreciates the extra freedom, such as it is.
- 74
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- 76
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Cellulose & Steel