Archive of Our Own ^beta

Life was good under our new alien overlords. The air felt for the first time like you didn't have to chew it first, it wasn't aggressively, threateningly hot all the time, and the building I lived in was now clean and very well constructed, and had a magic box in it that let you make basically anything you wanted. Instantly, everyone's quality of life increased, and that made everyone a lot less tired and angry, too, so everyone's social life got way better, which also lifted everyone's mood. Everywhere you looked, there were virtuous cycles spiraling ever higher.

So why did it feel so… empty?

It's not like I had nothing to do. I didn't have to do anything, and I wouldn't have to ever again. But I wanted to. I was a tinkerer at heart. So I taught myself electrical engineering, played around with circuitry and robotics, compiled myself a violin and taught myself that, too. I'd always wanted to learn but never had the time before the Compact. I had plenty of projects to occupy myself, and I was happy working on them.

…So why did it feel so empty?

What was I missing?

This is the question I asked myself as I started browsing the Overnet. Even the internet-equivalent was very different, at least locally. One account for everything, which you plugged into the services you wanted. Enough discriminators that you could always pick your own username, from number to colour to theme song to favourite candy. It was one big central source of information about you, but the completely absurd level of identity protection on a social level that existed in the basic infrastructure of the Overnet meant that having a single doxxable identity wasn't dangerous any more. Hell, I send one message, or just yell at the hab, and in thirty seconds a giant plant alien will be at my doorstep to protect me, and they'd do it for a sprained ankle. I would know, it happened once.

It was… nice, actually. The sprained ankle. The attention was nice. I had friends, lots of them actually, and spoke with them regularly, but… there was something missing about that. Something that I found in the Affini whose gentle hands and soft flowers took away my pain and healed my injury.

No, I'm not contemplating injuring myself just to get that kind of attention again. That would be ridiculous.

That said… if only there were some kind of, I don't know. Meal delivery service for attention.

…I opened up the search bar. Just as a joke.

something like food delivery but for personal attention

…No way.

They existed. Mostly freelance, it looked like, but, they absolutely existed. The search algorithm seemed to understand that I wasn't looking for sex work, though I can bet you if I searched for that I'd find it too, and it's not like anything in the profiles I found indicated that they were limited to platonic contact. But no, this was that but for affection. A bunch of people who decided that the thing they wanted to do with their life is to go over to people's places and cuddle them for a while.

Some of them were Affini. I should have seen that coming. I thought about it. But… there was something too alien about them, so to speak. There was a cultural barrier that made them feel simultaneously too good and yet not good enough at really emulating the affectionate nature of another human being, and for that matter… 

There's a saying. If someone writes you a sonnet, they really love you. If they write you 500 sonnets, they really love sonnets. The Affini feel sometimes like they really love sonnets, not those they write them for. That, yes, xenosophonts are important, and we're central to Affini culture, and everything, but… that's the thing, though. They're doing it because they want to be the best in the universe at taking care of things. It's hard to wrap my head around that they'd do it for me because of just, well, me.

Is receiving affection-on-demand significantly different? I don't know, maybe not. But there's no cultural incentive there. If a terran cuddles, we do so in the face of a cultural upbringing screaming for us not to.

So I filtered for— oh huh, it never even occurred to me that there'd be xenosophonts other than terrans here. That fox— xenra, apparently —looked kind of cute. But no. I wanted someone who understood the human condition from the inside. I needed someone to get it intuitively. No matter what they looked like.

In a couple of minutes, I had a chat window open.

What do I say from here.

So I waited, and counted in my head. One, two, three, four, five, I wonder what they'll be like, eight, nine, am I doing the right thing, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eightee—

The communicator chimed, and I picked up.

"Hey there!" came an androgynous voice, which made sense, given the androgynous body it was coming out of. Outlet Deliciosa, Second Floret had done some work on theirself, or had that work imposed on them by their owner, with large, fennec-like ears coming out of the top of their head and a carpet of thick-looking butter-yellow fur. Around their neck was a big wispy tuft that was more like cream, which went around the back of their head and became a short cotton-candy haircut on top.

They were cute. And seeing them on this absurdly high-fidelity screen with very nice acoustics suddenly made me—

"Are you having a shy?"

"…Yeah, sorry," I replied, smiling a little sheepishly.

"That's okay! You're doing a new, intimate thing. Shyness is natural."

"Thanks," I said. That genuinely helped.

"So, do you know what you're looking for?"

"…attention, I think. Uh, I mean, a specific kind of attention. You know—" I stopped to try and figure out what it was I was even saying, and Outlet just sat there, waiting for me to find it. "—You know how the Affini are, they're all kind of famously doting and cuddly and everything?"

"They really are." Outlet broke out into a nostalgic grin. "But you didn't go for an Affini, you went for me."

"Yeah. There's— I think you understand better than they ever could what it's like to… y'know. Want that kind of attention."

"I see. You're looking for a peer experience."

"Yeah."

"I understand. There's something specific to the shared ingroup experience that makes it… a lot of things, really. Maybe it feels safer, maybe it feels easier to trust, maybe it's just something you can intuit better in the moment. I can speak from personal experience, Affini cuddles are really good. But they're not terran cuddles." They looked down at theirself. "But you also don't mind that I'm modified."

"…I think it's cute."

"Thank you for saying so! I feel adorable like this."

That made me smile. Gender, or species, or whatever, morphological euphoria always felt great to witness. "Anyway, you— well, I guess I should ask whether you even identify as terran any more."

"Oh, yes, I do. I'm just a particularly furry terran."

"Okay. Then yeah. You know what it's like to be terran. But you're… well… you look really cuddly."

"Like a living plushie."

"…Kind of, yeah. I'm not, I don't think this is a little thing for me, to be clear."

"Okay. It's fine if it is, too."

"I'm not doth protesting too much, honest. I'm just trying to avoid the wrong impression. —I guess you must have a lot of work from little clients."

"I get attention from partners who happen to be little, yes. I try not to frame it like capitalism, it feels weird."

"Oh. Sorry, um, I didn't really…" I trailed off.

"It's okay. It's only been, how many years? In the single digits? I've had the luxury of having spent time thinking about it, is all. But anyway! We're digressing. What specifically would you like to do if you decide to invite me over?"

"…There are options?"

"There are lots of options. I'm okay with a pretty big range of attention styles and activities. There's the very classic 'lie in bed and be touched' sort of cuddling, but then there's something like 'climb into your lap and watch a movie' cuddling, or 'sit in front of me and let me play with your hair' cuddling… I can give massages, I'm told I'm a good kisser, I can do focused attention with words of affirmation… stop me if you hear something you find interesting!"

I closed my eyes and tried to picture the options. They all sort of sounded good.

"…Um." I hesitated.

"Please, go ahead," Outlet encouraged.

"Is it okay if I figure it out when you get here?"

"Sure, that's fine! As you can imagine, I don't really need a lot of equipment, just me, so we can explore and find something that works for you in person."

"Okay. Then, yeah, that."

Outlet tilted their head. "Can I get you to do something for me?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Just, set your communicator down for a second. You'll need both hands for this."

I blinked, but did as requested.

"Okay. So, take your right hand, and put it on your left shoulder." I did. "Now take your left hand and put it on your right side."

I did that, too. It sort of felt like I was wearing a seatbelt.

"Now squeeze. That's a hug from me."

…Oh. That did something in my head, and a little wave of tension flowed out of me.

"…Thanks."

"Of course! If you give me your address I can be over whenever you like, whether that's now or some time in the future. I happen to be free now?" The offer was there, but unstated.

"…That'd be nice. Now is good." I sent them my details.

"Okay! I'll be right over. I'll send you a message when I'm there."

"Alright. Um… thank you, Outlet."

"Thank you! I get to cuddle someone tonight."

They were about twenty minutes away, which was the perfect amount of time for me to start really fretting over it. What if I did something weird, or they did? What if I didn't like it? What if I liked it too much?

I ended up changing into a pair of pyjamas, since it was early evening anyway, and flopped into bed. My hands returned to my shoulder and my side. …It didn't really help.

Eventually, though, my communicator gave me a chime.

…I hadn't considered that could be an option.

That did sound kind of nice. And despite my worry, I had gotten settled in.

"Hab, could you let them in, please?"

"Sure thing, cutie!" came the hab, and I heard the door opening.

Quietly, Outlet peeked their head in. They were a little shorter than I was, but not by much. They'd worn an artfully rumpled silk blouse and comfortable looking slacks, and had taken off their shoes at the door to walk in with lavender socks on. They either naturally walked on their toes or had paws, I couldn't tell through the fabric. "Hi there," they said softly, and sat down on the bed next to me. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing okay," I said, setting the communicator down on the nearby nightstand. "How was the trip over?"

"Very pleasant. You live in a really pretty neighbourhood. That one sort of twisting building with the pink bricks, I love that."

"Oh, yeah, that's a sandwich shop. I go there sometimes."

"Ahh, okay." They reached out, and paused. "May I touch you?"

My stomach flipped, but I nodded, and they put their hand on my hip. "You look like you're comfortable. Do you want to start here? I can be the big spoon."

"…Yes, please."

Outlet gave me a warm smile. "Sure."

They climbed up into bed and settled in behind me. Their arm came around and rested on mine, still wrapped around my side. That felt… too distant. So I lifted my arm and let them hug me directly, and held onto their arm with mine. I shifted, and they shifted, and we found a comfortable place to cuddle.

They gave me a little squeeze, which felt really nice.

"We don't have to talk if you don't want to," they said, kind of in my ear. "This is enough. But if you do wait to talk, you can tell me about the sandwich shop."

I nodded, slowly. "…It's really nice. They do these kind of smash sandwiches where they're crushed in a hydraulic panini press until they're these wide, flat, crunchy things."

"Ooh, that sounds really good."

"It is. They have some really good vegan options there, too. I really like the vegan meatball sandwich, it's marinara, green pepper, mushrooms, vegan cheese, and falafel."

"You've convinced me. I have to try that some time. —Are you alright? You're trembling."

I was. I wasn't really sure why. "Yeah, I— I don't know what that is." My voice was, too. I felt like I was in an earthquake.

"Sometimes people who are touch-starved react like that. It's okay. It'll pass after a few minutes."

"I— I mean—" I wasn't having a panic attack, that wasn't what this was. I was experiencing some kind of endorphin rush my body didn't know what to do with. "—you can't starve to death from not being cuddled, right?"

"Sadly, no. If we could maybe we'd have developed a culture that took it seriously." They gave me another squeeze. "Terrans need to be held sometimes, even if we won't die from it. It's bad for us if we aren't."

"You sound like an Affini."

"They happen to be right about this."

I fell quiet for a while, thinking. "Can— can I turn around?"

"Of course."

They lifted their arm, and I shifted around to face them. I bumped into their knees with mine; they asked with their own to slide between my legs, and we intertwined them. They wrapped their arm back around me, and gave me a curious, kind look.

I studied their face for a moment. The texture of their fur looked soft, even from way up close, and their eyes were a soft violet. Their tuft of fluffy hair had been pushed up to the side by the pillow.

"Can I… pet you?"

"I would love it if you pet me."

I reached up with a hand that wouldn't stop shaking, and gently smoothed out their hair. They closed their eyes and let out a quiet hum, so I did it again, and again. It felt like it helped a little, to process the sudden flood of energy I had. They sat there and let me do it as long as I wanted, and when I had my fill, I moved my hand back down and hugged them again.

"What got you into being a professional cuddler?"

"I never got paid for it," they said, "but, I chose to offer affection services for a few reasons. I've always loved making connection, seeking new people. There were actual professional cuddlers that existed in the accord, but it always felt… I don't know. Too difficult to keep myself safe. I mostly stuck with the people around me I could work out from a distance first."

"And you're not worried about that now?"

"No. For one, I have the tools to vet people. For two, most of the people who would have already been domesticated. For three, I think I could defend myself against an unimplanted sophont until help arrived. And for four… I've done this long enough to see the anxiety in your eyes when you called me. You're not going to hurt me. You're more afraid of being hurt. …Can I hug you closer for a minute? Play with your hair? Would that feel good?"

I softly nodded after a moment, and they moved a little. Arms wrapped around my head, and they held me to their chest. My eyes closed, and I could hear a slow, steady beat through their sternum. Their fingers began to work into my scalp, and the shaking just stopped, all at once, and I melted.

"That's it. You're okay." I vaguely heard.

I don't know how long I was like that. It could have been hours. I didn't fall asleep, but I did stop thinking after a while. I didn't want to fall asleep, because if I had, I wouldn't have been feeling what I was feeling.

Eventually, though, they pulled back, and I opened my eyes, once I remembered how to. "Temperature check? Meaning, how are you doing, do you need anything, that kind of thing."

I thought about it, and tilted my head —and felt my neck protesting, so I winced and turned onto my back. "Sorry. Neck." That broke the spell a little, and I started to think about things. Outlet took the opportunity to slip under my arm and tuck theirself against my side, and I looked down at them. "You're not, um— do you need anything?"

They gave me a little smile. "You're trying to figure out what the catch is."

"I— well— okay, maybe."

"The catch is, honestly?" They gently took my chin in their fingers, and tilted it towards them… and then tilted it away. "That. I get to reduce sophonts to putty with affection." They pressed down on the front of my chin, and embarrassingly, I opened my mouth. "You're calling out the prompts. But I'm running the show. That's very fun for me. I'm an outlet for others, hence the name. But this is my outlet, too." They put the back of their hand up under my chin to close my mouth again, then tilted my head back towards them. I didn't resist. "And I do have some very Affini conceptions about what sophonts need and deserve. It's why I volunteered for domestication."

I closed my eyes. "What do you need right now?" Outlet asked, gently.

"…I want to feel that control again."

I felt them get up. They gently took each hand in theirs and brought them up beside my head, squeezing them affectionately even as they pressed them down to the bed. They got up and straddled my stomach, looming, pressing down on me.

"I don't think this is cuddling any more." I murmured.

"It depends on your perspective."

I remained like that, and they were content just to hold me down until further notice. I watched them; they watched me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched their blouse move with their breathing, and watched as it synchronized with mine. I don't know whose idea it was. I don't know that it required an idea.

"What's it like being a floret?" I asked.

"There's a lot of freedom in it. Mistress Deliciosa cooks my meals, bathes me, pumps happy happy chemicals into me in at least three ways… fills me with joy. Makes me feel special. It leaves me free to share that joy with others."

"It sounds nice."

"It is nice."

" …You said before, you understood that terran affection and Affini affection is different. …How?"

They tilted their head, looked off to the side, and wiggled their nose very cutely as they thought. "Part of it is physical. They may look like us sometimes, but their anatomy's completely different. Part of it is cultural. There's an almost… mm. I was going to say ritualized, but it's more an institutionalized form of it. To them, interacting with a floret and filling out a form can be the same thing. You can see it in the way they sometimes break affection down into steps, like terrans can be given affection by flow chart. Which, if you ask them, we can. But third… it's pure. There's no ingroup bias. No extrinsic reward. No nothing. If an Affini takes an interest in you, there is something about you they find adorable, something nobody else has, and that's why they're choosing to give you affection personally. If there wasn't, they'd just work at OTNA or something."

Some things slid into place. It wasn't wholly that they were in love with writing sonnets; it was that sonnets were a tool in their toolbox to make sophonts happy. So what if they wrote 500 of them? It meant that their chosen sophont would never want for sonnets ever again.

That said, my attention was drawn away by the acronym I didn't recognize. "OTNA?" I asked, and they blinked, before catching theirselves.

"The Office of Transitional Neoxenoveterinary Archeobureaucracy," they rattled off. "It's part of their big bureaucracy engine."

"Oh, I see. …Is that what your owner does?"

"Yes, actually." They gave my hands a squeeze. "I could tell you all about the paperwork she files if you want."

"Heh, no thank you."

"I didn't think so." They leaned forward. "I'm happy to talk about anything else, or if you're comfortable, I can just keep holding you down."

I looked to the side, blushing. "You said you're a good kisser?"

They grinned down at me. "So I've been told. Would you like to find out for yourself?"

"…Yes."

They descended on me, and their nose nudged mine, gauging my comfort level. I tilted up towards them, and they crossed the rest of the distance and kissed me. It was soft, and it made my lips tingle. They broke it, looked at me, and made a little smirking noise, and I broke into a smile with them, and they moved back in. My eyes fluttered shut, and I let my attention focus on their lips —and their tongue, as it gently flicked out to brush my lower lip. Hesitantly, I mirrored the gesture, and we went back and forth like that, until eventually we tried it at the same time and our tongues touched, and they made a satisfied noise that shot down my spine.

I slowly opened my mouth, and they did the same, and we began to make out in earnest. Their tongue wasn't human, either, it was a little longer, flatter, and pointed, but it still felt extremely good in my mouth. I let out a little noise, and got a coyly inquisitve one back, at which point they began to toy with me: pulling back their tongue, making mine follow it, then darting it forward again to cover more surface area with theirs; poking and prodding around it; slipping under it; even shifting a little and suckling on my lower lip.

I felt something give way in me, and fall. For the first time I could remember, I fully gave into the fact that I wasn't in control, that someone else had much more experience and talent, and that they were bending that talent towards me just because they thought I deserved affection. It was… freeing. Elating. Addictive.

They finally pulled back after a while, grinning, breathing a little more heavily.

"How was that?" they asked.

"Uh-huh," I responded.

They made another one of those amused noises. "I think I broke you."

"I'm good!" I protested. "I'm just… also… a little punch-drunk."

"What are you feeling specifically?" they asked, sitting up and letting go of my hands. I didn't move them.

"Warm. Relaxed. A little—" It snuck up on me, and I yawned. "—sleepy. I don't know the word. Controlled, I guess? I guess I did ask for that."

"You did. I'm glad I could give it to you. That said, it is getting late."

"Oh." Disappointment splashed over my warm fuzzies like a bucket of water. "Right, um, I don't want to be keeping you."

"Huh? Oh, no, I was going to ask if you wanted me to stay the night."

"Oh."

"I don't have to, of course. But I have nowhere to be."

"What about your owner?"

"I have a little more freedom than your average floret. She'll want to know where I am, of course, but that's a quick message away, and then all I need to do is compile a pair of PJs and a toothbrush for myself."

"That… would be really nice."

"I had a feeling you'd say that. You looked like you weren't ready to let me go."

"Yeah."

"Hey."

"…Yeah?"

"Just because I'm a single-serving cuddle buddy doesn't mean you have to go back to touch-starvation. There's lots of ways to get affection. And you could always call me back up again."

"…That's true."

"You deserve this all the time."

"…That's really nice of you to say."

They leaned in and gave me a big, warm hug, and I sighed into it, wrapping my arms around them.

"Thank you, Outlet."

"You're welcome."

They let the hug linger as much as I needed it to, and then got up, offering a hand. "C'mon. Let's get ready for bed."

"The rest of the evening proceeded predictably. We talked and bantered as we got ready, brushed our teeth, and climbed into bed. I was prepared to escalate sexual contact if they indicated they were interested, but they just wanted to cuddle and make out, and that satisfied them. We slept and woke, and I offered to make them breakfast, which they eventually accepted. We said our goodbyes, hugged, and I left."

I sat on a comfortable high chair on the other side of Mistress Deliciosa's desk. Her broad, fenestrated leaves trailed down her shoulders and the outside of her arms like they were shielding her from the sun, and one bent around the top of her head like a newsboy cap. Around us was the comfortable din of Affini milling about and working. Behind Mistress was a beautiful view of the city, its clear blue sky streaming light into the space and reflecting off the frosted floors. I couldn't say this was my least favourite part.

"And your prognosis?" Mistress Deliciosa asked.

"I saw the change. They're ready. They responded well to just about every pliability test, I synced their biorhythm with mine for a moment with my breathing —I never get tired of seeing that, thank you again for teaching it to me, Mistress —even the gesture training. I'll put more details into the report, of course—" I could feel myself flushing, a conditioned response. "—but they could use someone to take charge of them, someone who isn't afraid to override their biases and give them what they want before they're ready to ask for it. I could have pushed much harder than I did."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll have plenty of details for the report," Mistress Deliciosa purred, and I squirmed in my seat. "Good fox. Another notch in your arrow."

"Bedpost, Mistress."

Mistress grinned. "I like 'arrow'."

"Arrow it is, Mistress."

Mistress Deliciosa got up and picked up the collar from the desk, moving around behind me. Vines wormed into my hair and pulled it back, holding me tightly in place as the collar went on with a satisfying click. It had a little weight to it, it was made of hard phytotech, and it was not coming off unless Mistress took me back off the leash she also put me back on, threading a vine through the O-ring in the back. Only then did she let me go.

"Come on, take your paperwork," she said, and when I did, she pushed the chair back and helped me down. With a broad hand on top of my head that blocked out the sun, she pushed me onto my hands and knees, clutching the bundle of papers to my chest, and three-legged-walked over to Mistress Deliciosa's side of the desk. Once I got there, I sat cross-legged at her feet, the papers in front of me. I could feel the vaguest tension in the leash; without her consent, I was going nowhere.

A pen hovered on a vine in front of me. I reached for it, and it pulled away, and I reached further and further. I whined as the leash prevented me from getting up to grab it, and Mistress Deliciosa listened to my pleading for a while before actually giving it to me. "I think you've had it easy, the last while," she said. "Let's say… 90 seconds per page. Legible, of course, accurate, and complete. Every par you make..." A vine traced the button she had installed on her desk at eye level to me, and I reacted like it was an erogenous zone. "You get a press of the button."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied. "Thank you, Mistress."

"Good fox. You may begin."

90 seconds was on the low side, but doable. So I lost myself in the byzantine labyrinth that was Affini forms, or at least, terran forms intended to be ingested by the vast Affini bureaucracy.

I spared a glance at the top of the page. I still couldn't believe it was there on paper.

I was so bored before Mistress Deliciosa and I came up with the idea; I was a cruiser before the takeover, and desperately missed the chase. Mistress saw it, and made me write a proposal, the fetish hacker. …Though admittedly, I was excited to do the paperwork even then, given how she treats me while I'm doing it.

Independents would always be a part of the Compact, and thrive. Obvious cases for florethood would eventually volunteer or be taken. Then there were edge cases, those for whom something like a wardship or wellness check was appropriate. Those would never go away. But another, even edgier case existed, those who were fully capable of supporting theirselves in the Compact, and may even live fulfilling lives, but whose desires were therefore 'subclinical', and never progressed to the kind of depression that usually got you checked up on.

"Good fox," Mistress Deliciosa said as I made the first par, and hit the button. I felt the hit of apocynai diffuse through my spine, and my penmanship got a little worse.

I thought I was so clever when I came up with the name, but of course they changed it. I called it the Seedcracker Initiative. To offer a range of services, all of which were designed to attract those who might benefit from a little less independence. I would have a broad mandate and no real restrictions on what I could do to someone, so long as I never harmed the sophont in the act of withdrawing afterward. I would be very, very careful not to get close enough to cause a parasocial breakup when I left. But I should get close enough to show them what they were missing, and light a fire underneath them to get it, whether that be with their friends, a regular hookup with someone like me, or…

There was an adoption page for these sophonts. And Notices of Intent frequently came within days of a new one being added. Affini took one look at someone just barely not getting what they need and it lit a fire under them, too.

Mistress loved it so much she incorporated an entire new suboffice of OTNA for me. Other Affini might tell their florets they'd move the stars; mine moved paper, and for the Affini, that's far more of a show-off than mere stellar engineering.

"Good fox," Mistress Deliciosa intoned as I made the second par, and hit the button again. I always forgot exactly what apocynai felt like until the first dose. The span between the first and the second gave me time to anticipate how much stronger this feeling could get, and the second was euphoric already. The sadistic part was that I couldn't give into it until I was finished writing.

I kept writing, even as it felt like the act of doing so made my hands vibrate with pleasure. Observations, tendencies, possible interests or kinks. They enjoyed pressure, being held down. They liked being physically manipulated, far more than they were ready to admit. They appreciated clear, simple instructions, but could contribute ideas if necessary. I had caught them staring at my paws when I first walked in, and tested it again as I made breakfast; maybe I'll do some research to gauge likely interest, and mail a pair of my socks to them.

After the third par, I got distracted by the chirping, condescending tone of Mistress Deliciosa's voice as she praised me. I looked up at her, grinning, beginning to sway. At this point it was harder to be a person.

"Eyes on your paper, fox," she said, and I blinked, then returned to the pages. Ten, fifteen seconds must have passed. Welp. that par was out of reach.

But since it was, I spent a few moments tracing the letterhead at the top. I couldn't fall behind on the next page, so I could stop and take my time with this one, and enjoy the high. At the left of the header, A bow was pulled taut, with a vine stretched out across it and behind the wordmark, tipped in a heart-shaped flower and an injector.