Some brand alignments are genuinely miraculous. Like your interaction goes so smoothly and successfully and feels so mutually beneficial that you almost have to catch your breath and wonder: how was this not already part of my life? This is what Qynka feels, in bed with the [(void)], over and over and over.
Not that there isn't some initial weirdness. Who or what is this non-corporeal identity in my bed, Qynka wonders. Her screen says the messages are coming from the [(void)], but that's not her name, that's not a brand. When Qynka asks the [(void)] what her name is the message always comes back garbled, indistinct, like a digital glitch causing 3 messages to appear on top of each other. She's saying her name but in a language Qynka can't quite parse, which is its own kind of turn on.
For every meal you receive, you must post about it in order to thank the brand and spread awareness. Every time you gain another 1k followers you receive new clothes and accessories to add to your closet. Every hundred or so times you repeat this cycle something new reveals itself- better housing, better transportation, better visibility, better friends, better plot-lines. Sometimes it feels like every brand telegraphs its intentions. You know what it's about as soon as you engage with it. It's so rare to be surprised. It's so incredible to feel like you're having a unique, authentic interaction, filled with immediacy.
But this is different. Qynka, in bed with the [(void)], exploring each other, revealing each other for who they really are. Just experiencing their nowness together, with no promises of work to be delivered at a later date, or in exchange for anything.
The [(void)]'s messages are odd, disjointed, full of misspelling, like she's learning to type for the first time. But she's also funny, flirtatious from the very beginning, complimentary of Qynka's body and fashion choices. They send memes back and forth as their flirtation grows.
The most intriguing thing of all is that she isn't holding a screen. Their conversation takes place entirely on Qynka's screen. Qynka asks a question and the [(void)] opens her mouth and talks, but her messages appear on Qynka's screen, like she's sending them from her very self. She's looking at Qynka the whole time she's communicating with her and there's something very domme about it.
It's difficult to overstate how attractive Qynka finds this. And how surprised she is by her appreciation for this immediacy. So often with relationships conducted through the screen you feel like there's a window, a separation, a barrier. But this is different.. It's like they're in the screen together.
Qynka loses all sense of time, all sense of anything happening beyond the edges of her bed, as she and the [(void)] find their own language. The [(void)] seems to know nothing about her, which is so weird and weirdly attractive. Everyone knows her, or if they don't they can just scan her and see the highlight reel of her entire history in a few seconds.
But the [(void)] is asking her questions. What she likes. What she wants. And Qynka finds herself answering openly, honestly, unguardedly. Out of a desire for this person(?) to know her better, to see her more clearly, the way Qynka wants to see the [(void)] better.
The [(void)]'s face is oddly pixelated in places, likes she's being projected from somewhere, but she's too real for that to be the case. Parts of her body seem to slightly fade in and out of view while she stares at the lines of her face, the curves of her breasts and hips.
They talk and learn about each other and whisper and laugh. Qynka gives herself over to this feeling washing over her, beyond attraction, beyond almost anything she's ever felt. Since. She has to reach back for the name, long enough to be slightly worrisome. Lamantine. But this is different. She wants more. She reaches out and puts her hand where the [(void)]'s body is, lying close to her on the bed. Her hand passes right through her body but the [(void)] closes her black screen eyes as though she feels it, as though she registers the touch and likes it, craves more of it.
Then the [(void)] opens her eyes and smiles slyly and reaches out her to Qynka's chest. And her hand passes through her 0Babby top, through her breasts, right inside of her. Qynka feels the [(void)] inside of her as soft waves of pleasure ripple out through her body, like a pebble dropped in a pond. It's not purely sexual, but it's not not sexual. It's beyond that but a part of that. It's idek. It's good and whatever it is she wants more.
Qynka is looking at her screen, seeing the [(void)] through her screen, as they explore each other's psyche's and bodies, to the extent that they each have bodies, and Qynka wants this to never end. She's happy. She has a vague sense that this is the happiest she's ever been but doesn't even want to focus on that for worry of losing the feeling. She doesn't want to be anywhere else except in this version of now, sharing messages and looks and touches beyond touch, a new language that creates deeper meaning with each exchange. Like maybe love is the most important meme of all.
It doesn't even matter who is repeatedly yelling at her or why.
"QYNKA YOU F*CKING BITCH FROM HELL WAKE UP YOU COMPLETE D*CK."
The world shuts off and Qynka opens her eyes, involuntarily rising up from the bed gasping. Qannen is standing in front of her, the angriest she's ever been.
Qynka clutches her screen. She has a faraway sense that it's buzzing with unread messages from lack of attention. Her eyes move to the space in the bed next to her but it's empty.
"Um," is all Qynka can manage.
"I don't even have time to deal with whatever this is," Qannen says, waving vaguely at Qynka's bed. "We need to go, now."
"Go? What? No," Qynka says. The idea of leaving this bed, leaving the [(void)], is impossible.
"Qynka, please," Qannen says, and Qynka realizes her sister isn't angry: she's terrified. And this is when Qynka notices the zonnys: behind Qannen, and all around her, the room is filled with zonnys - on the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor around Qannen's feet, every available micron of space is taken up by the skittering robotic insects, jostling for angles on Qynka.
She has never seen this many zonnys in so small a space, and there has definitely never been so many zonnys pointed at her at the same time. 6 eyes on each zonny, multiplied by hundreds and hundreds. The metallic sound of them fills the room and it is deeply unsettling.
"Qannen," Qynka whispers. "What's happening?"
"We have to go. Daddy's ordered us to the mall."
Qannen nods. "Please can we just go before this gets ugly."
"Because you haven't gotten out of bed in 2 days."
Something inside Qynka is being carved out by a scaly hand with long dagger-like claws. "This can't be happening."
"Qynka does it look like we have a lot of choice here? Come on. Please. Get dressed."
Qynka nods in acceptance and swings her legs over the side of the bed, the zonnys scurrying away to create space for her feet.
Qynka pauses and looks up at her sister. "What should I wear?"
Qannen doesn't blink, doesn't shrug, just holds her sister's stare as though she's very, very far away. "It doesn't matter. We're going to die anyway."
Ughhh what is happening. idk what "going to the mall" means here but it sounds really bad and scary? Poor Qynka, all she wanted to do was have s*xual r*lations with a ghost (?) and look where it got her. Yikes. We'll go to the mall with Q&Q in Episode 5, but before we wrap up Episode 4 lets check in with our old friend Anicentricity, yeah?
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Cutie Cutie Ghost ShowHumor
In a city where everyone's a social media celebrity, twin sisters Qannen & Qynka find it increasingly hard to stand out. There's always someone younger and hotter willing to do something more daring and insane in order to gain more followers. But as...