summerscaptions:Amber sighed. It was such a pain when they sent half-finished Dolls to the prep ro
summerscaptions: Amber sighed. It was such a pain when they sent half-finished Dolls to the prep room like this. Sure, they were compliant and didn’t really do much, but still. Part of it was just professionalism. There was a time and place for everything. The time and place for the Headset Training Units was Stage 3 processing, in the Development Room. They really shouldn’t be here in Touch-ups until Stage 4. For one thing, do you have any idea how hard it is to get hair looking right under that fucking gadget? “I’m a good doll,” the Doll muttered mindlessly. And that was the other reason. They still spontaneously repeated. Not just a little - all the damn time. And Amber was expected to do up their makeup as they yammered on like that. Not that she could blame them - she did her time with a HTU when she first arrived, she remembered the feeling. No matter what you said, what came out of the headphones was your own voice, telling you what a good doll you were, how much you enjoyed obeying, how happy you were not to have a will. You’d scream and demand to be let go, and what you’d hear instead was your own voice telling you how much you loved to obey orders. It was, it turned out, very effective. It felt amazing, too, once you gave in and started repeating. The sound of your voice overlapping with itself, chorusing mantras of servitude… well, Amber completely understood why the new Dolls tended to just talk to themselves, over and over. “I love to obey,” the Doll said. Didn’t make it any easier to work with, though. These were the challenges of business picking up. They were working with a constant backlog, so the Dolls got sped through processing, pushed to the next Stage before they were really ready. Amber reminded herself to put in another request for an assistant - any one of these Dolls could be pulled off the line and programmed with the proper training, just like Amber had been. She had to be careful, though. She knew what happened to girls who complained too much. She was looking it right in the eye right now. “I don’t think for myself,” the Doll sighed. “I know you don’t,” Amber said, guiding her by the shoulders out the door. The next one walked in, blank-eyed as the last. Amber got to work on her hair. (This one came to me courtesy of the lovely kyrasperversions. Took me a little bit to get the idea off the ground, but I kind of like where it ended up. Hope you guys do, too!) -- source link