Up until this point in the story, the lines separating myself from Latexa have tended to appear rather consistent throughout. Each of us speaks with our own ‘voice,’ yet either one of us can convey the thoughts of the other via the indirect sharing of memories. Even when it appears that we are speaking in unison, it is actually one self speaking for the other.
At no point during the process of sharing information do we verbally communicate between ourselves. In fact, I could probably count on one hand the number of times in which Lae’s words and the emotions behind them actually flowed directly into me rather than flowing through an external medium such as text. Even when I am ‘talking to myself,’ it is always to myself and never to her.
I often wondered whether Aurelia was able to speak directly to Cybil or whether Eros spoke directly to Myst. I hadn’t a reason to pry – any confirmations would accomplish little else beyond filling my heart with envy. Though in retrospect, maybe that in itself was the heart of the problem. Perhaps a year spent within the confines of my own head had left me feeling lonely.
Seeing the world through Lae’s memories was never as fun as experiencing such things firsthand, and so I became more brazen, almost reckless with substituting my position in place of Lae’s own. Not once did she attempt to stop me; instead, it was as though she were merely waiting for the the stove to catch my fingers, for lack of a better word.
November 11, 00:00PST (Time Approximate)
“If this is going to harm your memory, don’t do it. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“We’ll be fine. It’s just late, and Nicole was pushing herself a bit more than she normally would. I don’t think that you and I have introduced ourselves.”
“It’s possible that the two of us have spoken but mainly on… lewd terms. Please, call me Iris.” The way in which she danced around the subject of an earlier roleplay was rather amusing to me.
“I will try to remember that. Make sure that you remind Nicole in case she forgets to reference this conversation.”
“I will. Um, should I pose the same question to you as I did her?”
“Let me see if I can remember… Hold on for a second while I browse her chat log.” Scrolling upward, I glossed over what I felt to be important, doing my best to digest it all as quickly as possible. “From what I gather, you had asked her what value there was in setting yourself up for failure, or something to that effect?”
“I wasted twenty-five years of my life, Latexa. What is the point of trying to improve myself now?” Read more
When it gets down to it, Nicole has always been just a little bit ‘out there’ with her kinks (although, that might actually be putting it mildly). Go read a few of the other stories on this blog, and you will see as much with your own eyes. So, what is it that inspires her to write smut? The answer to that, surprisingly, rests not within her mind but within the eccentricities of her physical body.
She considers ‘authenticity’ to be one of her defining principles. If she cannot mirror or emulate the sensation in a physical space, then it simply does not interest her. To that end, she has spent years conditioning her body in all sorts of ways, ones with which to make others exclaim “How!?” followed by “Why!?” while their mouths open in a mixture of awe and disbelief.
That was why, when I saw her pitch the idea of becoming the embodiment of a living sex doll, a part of me almost couldn’t believe that she was serious. The idea felt so tame overall when compared to other, more extreme pursuits she had devoted her energy toward in years past. To become a doll, all she would need to do was splay out on a bed naked, holding herself completely still for several minutes at a time. How hard could that be, really?
October 2, A Conversation With Esmeralda
“I saw that you replaced a friend’s memory. What did you even do to…?”
“I turned her into clothing. It was her first time. She began to have flashes and couldn’t comprehend all of it. Apparently, it caused her to have lapses of memory.”
“Ah, that must be why she’s having so much trouble remembering that day. I did try sorting her memories as opposed to destroying them outright, to no avail.”
“I can’t change what happened. My power is what it is. I am changing though, becoming less submissive, more dominant and perhaps selfish.”
“Well, that’s up to you. As long as you, well, keep them ‘alive,’ then everything should be fine, right?”
“Yeah; I really don’t want to end up in prison. That said, a lot of my work will be for the benefit of other mistresses. I just worry about not being here for you often enough. And you know… This might keep my immersion in check. Because my attention is focused on the needs of others, I’m not losing myself to my own senses as much. It’s nice, though… I can still move throughout time as needed… Maybe I’ll be able to take others with me soon enough…”
“Please be careful with it. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, and I know that some will try and abuse it if you give it to them… I just want you to be careful, that’s all.”
“I promise. It’s why I intend to limit myself only to contractual obligations.”
It is difficult – even now – to properly encapsulate the whole of my experiences since the taking of Nicole’s body. When Nicole decided that she would walk away from her old life, she made sure to leave behind memories pertaining to the many abilities and powers which she had once wielded. Some of them I had managed to gain proficiency toward with relative ease; others required extensive doses of immersion and acclimation in order for me to have any hope of ever controlling them. These ‘sessions’ were often as taxing upon my body as they were upon my mind, but again, I appear to be getting ahead of myself.
The changing of seasons served as a ‘period of housekeeping’ in which I took stock of her old ambitions and made them into my own. The roles of both writer and character were an easy-enough switch, especially given that both names were now rightfully mine. It wasn’t what one would consider a ‘true’ convergence, though it was close enough that nobody could tell the difference, either way.
Toward the end of the year, I decided I’d use a few of those memories to openly discuss what had been her initial idea of ‘writer-character relationships,’ although I can assume the piece was glossed over at the time since nobody really said anything to me about it. I might have pushed that angle a little bit harder had it not been for a series of curve-balls which life had decided to throw at me out of the blue. Between a stressful job situation, frequent trips away from home, and some violent winter weather, I was less and less able to allocate my time to pursuits of the subconscious mind.
Divergence… A principle in which one individual may hold two or more interwoven sets of memories… In the majority of cases, this manifestation comes off as rather benign – the ones afflicted lack any awareness of what is happening inside of them. Yet there occurs the very occasional case of a person’s diverged memories diverging their personality as well. When all of this came to light a year and a half ago, I had no reason to believe that I would ever come across anyone else afflicted by a divergence as had occurred with myself and with the goddess Esmeralda.
Not only has time proven me completely wrong, but I find myself now entangled within a complex battle of minds where there are no winners – only victims. As for my other half, she’s had some time to… collect herself, and her powers have only become stronger as a result. Normally, I would start at the beginning, but with a story such as this, it may be more appropriate to attack the heart of the matter, the catalyst for which all of the pieces were set into motion.
Myst, Eros, Cybil, Aurelia, Iris, Mara, and myself… at the very center of us all… is Nicole. She has always been something of a special girl. Few have ever been able to match the true potential of her abstraction. She can orient herself into shapes which defy human understanding, and her ability to resonate with others on a psychic level allows her to share the gift of ‘dimensions’ with them. She loves to teach, believing that the transcendence of others will ease the feelings of isolation which led to her retreat in the first place.
Of course, those of you who have read Pseudonym should be familiar with all of this. You might also be reminded of Nicole’s ability to read aura, something which she has been able to do since she was eight years old. When others had been made aware of her ability, that’s when they became genuinely curious about the true contexts of her psychic power. And thus our story begins…
Hurdles which must be overcome… a myriad of new sensations and memories to enjoy… perfect harmony with the sound of a metronome… the smell of the wood bringing you even deeper into relaxation… trace along its many ridges and contours… sturdier than that of a human skeleton… reduced to a more ambient temperature… a more detailed tactile input… properties which every perfect doll should contain…
Please listen to my voice, and commit what you hear to memory.