Shiny Smiles: In-Home Trial

NOTE: This story is set in the world of Shiny Smiles created by the talented artist and illustrator Sleepystephbot, and will probably make the most sense for those familiar with it. I've tried to make it broadly accessible to anyone who enjoys a fetishy tale of gradual corruption at the hands of authoritative femmes with the assistance of a lot of institutional restraints and other slightly advanced technology, but either way I highly recommend checking out Stephbot and their art!

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Riley sat on the couch in their apartment and stared at the box. Neither the plain brown exterior nor the address label gave any hint of its origin, but Riley knew. It was the Shiny Smiles In-Home Trial Experience.

When Riley first discovered the Shiny Smiles discord server over a year ago, it made their head spin. The scenes of patients--"custodial guests" they were called, being wrestled into candy-colored institutional restraints by staff nurses clad in shiny and skintight outfits of their own, and tossed into padded rooms or strapped down to saddles in brainwashing studios, quickly wormed their way into every dark and kinky corner of Riley's shy but not particularly vanilla brain.

What no one could quite figure out was what exactly Shiny Smiles *was*. Officially, the creators and mods presented it as "an organization dedicated to maximization of our guests' human potential," and the sophistication of everything from the gear to the sets and the equipment used made clear that the people running Shiny Smiles were at the very least smart, resourceful, and fairly wealthy. The Bay Area was full of nerdy Burners with seriously kinky minds and thick, girthy stock options. But for all the scientific talk and corporate lore, it seemed far too pornographic to not be some sort of elaborate roleplay, and some even hypothesized it was some kind of cult.

What made it especially mysterious was the fact that the server seemed to exist solely as an exercise in exhibitionism. While the creators and staff members would frequently share pictures, videos, and converse about the guests and the treatments they received, questions about what Shiny Smiles was, why it existed, or even how one could become a guest, were completely ignored.

Needless to say membership in the server was completely private and limited to those who passed some sort of screening process no one really seemed to understand. Like everyone else who would talk, Riley had received an invite via a DM on their perv Twitter account, from an account that disappeared shortly after they joined, and the only rules that seemed to be well-enforced were to not talk about the server or share content externally, and no "I wish it was me" posts, either of which were grounds for a permaban. So most were content to consume passively, compliment the creators, and carry out the occasional online roleplay with other audience members.

But there was a group who went a little farther, and started to create their own content inspired by and set in the Shiny Smiles world. The official creators would occasionally praise and suggest further ideas for the best homages, and bit by bit Riley joined them, first writing short fanfic stories, and later posting pictures of themselves dressed in shiny latex and spandex leotards, tights, catsuits, and other fetishy items like those seen in official Shiny Smiles scenes. Shy at first, the compliments and requests for more from audience members and official mods and admins alike encouraged Riley to post more often and get lewder, though the clips they posted always stopped short of showing the real ending, with Riley writhing to an orgasmic conclusion.

Then one day, Riley received a DM that made their heart skip at least two beats. It was from Dylan Meriweather, Chief Handler at Shiny Smiles, a particularly striking redhead who usually appeared in a very well-tailored pinstripe suit and was clearly one of the main protagonists of whatever the hell Shiny Smiles was. She never interacted with members of the server, which made the DM particularly remarkable. It read simply,

"Hi Riley. I have a proposition for you. I know you'll be interested. Let's chat."

Riley replied, and a few moments later Dylan answered with a video call request. Riley paused, unsure if she was ready.

"You have 60 seconds, Riley," Dylan messaged her. "If you're not sure, please don't waste my time. Opportunities like this don't often return."

Riley took a deep breath. "I've already posted my face on the server, so what difference does it really make," they thought, and joined the video chat.

"I'm glad you joined," Dylan said, "and I think soon you will be too."

"So, what is this proposition," Riley said.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions. The reason I reached out to you is that we're getting ready to start expanding Shiny Smiles to serve more guests, and you are my first choice."

Riley began to flush as their heart pounded and blood rushed to their head.

"Umm... Really?"

"Quite so," Dylan said. "You're clearly quite submissive, and share a deep affiliation with the ideals of our organization. Not to mention you'd look pretty cute in a straitjacket."

Riley stared back, slightly open-mouthed as their face turned the color of a ripe apple.

"I... wow, I mean, I'm flattered, but, I don't know if--"

"Shh," Dylan cut her off, a slender finger placed over her ruby-red lips to silence Riley. "Of course you're not sure. That's why we've developed something very special, and I'd like you to be the very first to experience it."

"What's that," Riley asked.

"We call it an in-home trial experience," Dylan said. "Think of it as us sending a little bit of Shiny Smiles to you, so you can try it by yourself, in the comfort and privacy of your own home, and decide if you would like to commit to a custodial residence."

Riley's mind swam with a million thoughts. To say that Shiny Smiles' content, and the entire concept, the staff members, and patients' reactions had taken a leading role in their fantasy life would be an understatement. The idea of actually participating in this as a recipient themselves, well, that was just too much.

"I don't know--can I ask some questions?"

"Everything you need to know about us, we've shared many times on the server. I assure you, we are exactly and entirely what we claim to be."

"But who are you, and why? And how, I mean, who is paying for this?"

"We have a benefactor," Dylan replied, "who shares our vision and ideals."

"But--"

"Riley. All I'm asking you to do is give me your mailing address, and I'll send you a package, in a nice plain brown wrapper so nobody knows it's full of the shiniest spandex and most sophisticated erotic technology anyone has ever seen. Then you try it, then I'll answer more questions."

"So it's just a package."

"Yes. And if you want, I'll send it to a package locker, you don't even have to give me your address. You realize, we're the ones taking all the risk here."

"I guess you have a point," Riley said.

"Just DM me the information, and we can get started. Oh, there's also a non-disclosure agreement I'll need you to sign. These are trade secrets we need to protect."

"Umm, OK. I think I have to think about this."

"I understand. You have 24 hours, then I'll conclude you were the wrong choice and move on to the next candidate. This will likely be your only chance, so choose wisely."

"Right," Riley said.

"I hope you say yes, Riley. I know I'd enjoy it."

Dylan smiled in the conspiratorial and slightly menacing way she was quite good at, and ended the call.

Riley knew they wanted to say yes, but they decided to do what they always did when tempted to make a big decision impulsively, and slept on it, dressed in a soft pink Amoresy catsuit whose silky texture and shine was both soothing and stimulating to them, like footie pajamas for kinky grownups. Their dreams, usually filled by vague and fleeting images devoid of meaning, swirled instead with visions strange, detailed, and very much sexual, and they awoke especially flush with need.

Riley decided--perhaps conveniently--that they'd think much more clearly after at least one good orgasm. They tucked and folded their pillow between their legs, and let their imagination return to a particular favorite. Riley imagined being led down a hallway, dressed as they were in a shiny pastel-pink catsuit, by Dylan Meriwether herself. Their hands were secured behind their back by secure but softly-lined cuffs, and their ankles were similarly linked with a short chain that hobbled their steps. It was just as well, because they needed to take small steps due to the toy Dylan had inserted in them before helping Riley zip up the catsuit.

With a firm hand wrapped around their upper arm, Dylan steered Riley towards a door with a small sign that read, "THE PODS." Riley's eyes widened and she began to protest.

"No, please, I don't want to be a pod girl," Riley said. In their most vivid fantasies, they were always their most femme self.

"Don't be silly, Riley, the pods are good for girls like you," Dylan said. She pushed the door open, and pushed Riley in with both hands. The room was sizable, at least ten feet deep and twice again as long. But what immediately caught the eye were the pods stacked three high along the long side opposite the doorway. They looked a bit like large aquarium tanks, but instead of tropical fish, the chambers contained a guest laid out in the prone position, some face down, others face up, in a padded recess behind a clear door. Each pod glowed softly in its own color, some pink, some blue, others green or purple, and as Dylan directed Riley closer they could see inside more clearly.

Riley looked at the middle pod in front of them, bathed in a pink light that more thoroughly revealed the lurid scene within. The outline of the occupant's face-down body read female, with a narrow waste flaring to a well-sculpted butt, shapely legs, and small if not tiny feet, all sheathed in very soft-looking sheer black fabric and secured by shiny white straps that matched the padding of the enclosure. Moving up their body, their arms were drawn together behind their back, their wrists and hands secured in padded mitts, all secured by more white straps.

The only part of their body that wasn't covered was their head, which was covered with what looked like brightly-dyed hair pulled back into space buns, and criss-crossed by straps which pulled their face down into a depression similar to a massage table. It was hard to see, but Riley thought they could see light on her face, as though she was looking into some sort of screen, and the thought crossed Riley's mind that she appeared to be sucking on something... thick, and enjoying it. As Riley's eyes wandered back and forth and began to take in the occupants of the neighboring pods, a small light above the pink pod came on and the girl inside began to move in a slow, steady rhythm: she was humping.

"Like what you see," Dylan asked, holding Riley's ponytail firmly to keep her facing towards the pod. "She's been in her pod for two days, I bet she'll last at least a week."

"Please, miss," Riley said, her mind a civil war between lust and reason. The pods were one of many ways Shiny Smiles brainwashed girls--and guests of every other gender--into compliant, docile toys. After being safely and thoroughly locked in, guests were made to orgasm over and over, in the most helpless and humiliating ways possible, all while being fed an endless stream of neurofeedback via visual and auditory stimulation to systematically wear down and reshape their id, ego, and everything in between. Catheterized and fed by IV, guests could stay locked in for days at a time--longer even--as long as it took to turn their brains to giggly, candy-colored mush.

And the worst part was, once you experienced being podded, you'd do just about anything to go back in for another ride. No one came out of a pod as the same person they went in, though they all came out wearing a big, dumb, drool-covered grin.

"Oh look," Dylan said, turning Riley to the left and bending over to enter something on a keypad, "I think there's a pod all ready and set up for you." As she spoke, the clear door retracted and the bed inside slid out. It was lined in shiny white fabric, and as Riley looked down they saw a series of depressions shaped to fit a face-down body of... more or less exactly their shape.

"No, no, please," Riley said as Dylan began to push on her shoulder to urge her down into the Riley-shaped container.

"It's OK Riley, don't fight, you know this is what's best for you."

The armies of lustful thoughts began to swarm over the walls of reason in Riley's brain. The thought of dissolving so completely into pleasure, of giving up the ability to do anything except to be a silly, happy, humping doll for the amusement and pleasure of others had stalked her waking thoughts as long as they could remember. Riley stepped into the foot of the pod bed and kneeled down.

"Be a good girl Riley, just let it happen," Dylan said, and got down beside them to affix straps over their ankles and below their knees as Riley's mind began to loop with the thought, "I'm being podded, it's happening." They looked down and ahead, and could see the glowing light of a screen where their head would go, as well as a plug--a mouthpiece, Dylan called it--but what it really looked like was something much more vulgar, and phallic, albeit in a neon pink color. Riley wondered how it would feel, if it would be hard and uncomfortable.

"Now lean forward," Dylan said, "I'll help lower you down," and pushed Riley down with one hand on their back while cradling them with the other. Reason was defeated, and Riley offered no resistance as Dylan lowered them softly, lovingly, all the way down. Their face hovered just above the padded opening, and they could see a screen glowing a soft and cheerful pink as their lips barely kissed up against the mouthpiece.

"Are you ready for the best part," Dylan said.

"Yes mis-," Riley squeaked, and before they could finish they felt Dylan's hand confidently pressing on the back of their head. Riley gagged in surprise as their lips parted and slid down over the mouthpiece, whose soft squishy texture and generous (but not too) dimensions seemed precisely calibrated to stifle speech without causing distress, indeed, Riley couldn't resist the temptation to orally explore and appreciate its contours.

Thus distracted, Riley didn't notice as Dylan finished securing them into the pod with harness straps across the back of their neck and up over the top of their head, not until they tried to look up and felt the straps that locked their head firmly in place. Dylan chuckled as she watched Riley push and tug against the straps holding them down, it was always at this moment that guests would writhe against their bonds for a few moments, and it was one of her favorite parts of the process, the last bit of physical resistance before the process moved to the psychological.

"There there Riley, just relax, I promise it just feels better and better the more you relax into it."

As Dylan spoke Riley could feel headphones being lowered into place and strapped onto the head harness. The pink screen dissolved and began to pulse in a series of soft and rhythmic patterns scientifically designed to entrain the viewer's brain, and push its functioning slowly down to a still-conscious but much more passive state.

"Just one last piece to go," Dylan said, to no one in particular, and Riley felt her reaching between their legs and pulling up an arm of sorts that pushed up firmly against their crotch and cupped up and around between the cheeks of their butt. As they felt something lock into place the toy they'd all but forgotten about came gently to life with a pleasant but unmistakeable vibration. Riley squirmed in surprise and in doing so realized that the arm Dylan had just locked into place was shaped and positioned and padded to make it the perfect surface to grind against.

Dylan's voice came through the headphones. "Welcome to the pods, Riley. In a few moments your bed will slide in and the door will lock as the conditioning program begins." Riley felt themselves moving sideways for a few moments, followed by a slight change in air pressure.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you something," Dylan said. "If you want to escape, all you have to do is make it one hour without cumming. That should be easy, assuming that the idea of being restrained against your will and converted into a drooling, brain-drained puppet doesn't turn you on." As she spoke, Riley clenched their legs, inadvertently humping against the pod bed exactly as designed, causing them to squirm against their bonds even more. "Though I should warn you, no one's ever made it an hour. Not even me!"

It was at precisely that moment that Riley gave one last hump against their pillow and tumbled head over heels into a particularly passionate orgasm, the sort that made you throw your hand over your mouth to avoid alerting the neighbors, and left your body trembling with aftershocks for several minutes. The kind that ripped through your mind like a downpour on a sweltering summer day, leaving behind much cooler temperatures, and a puddle or two. The kind that could clear a mind of impulsive thoughts, that kept fantasies from turning into real life.

Riley took out their phone and opened their discord chat with Dylan.

They looked at it for a moment. "If there's any chance that this could be real," they thought, and began to type.

"I'm in," they began, and concluded with their address.

Riley clicked the send button.