I supposed the people and things on this site do a pinned post.
A Handler, but not your Handler. Alter to a system that, much to my chagrin, includes a hound. Rather new to personhood, though I suppose my host needed someone else to make the decisions.
27. She/Her, capitalised. My Lady or Ma'am to hounds. If you come to my blog expecting me to degrade you, take your leash or whatever else, you will leave disappointed.
@dust-unto-others is mine.
Risk aware consensual kink, always.
Okay so we all know about Hound and Handler mechsploitation dynamics, how the Hound pilots the mech and has been irrevocably altered to serve as a weapon, and the Handler keeps them in line with unethical psychosexual bonding techniques, we all know that.
I would like to introduce two other character dynamics to the mix for your mechsploitation needs: the Leash and the Chew Toy.
The Leash loves the Hound, and the Hound loves the Leash. Leashes are chosen for each Hound from the training program; in a less toxic and exploitative environment, the Leash would be a best friend or a lover. The point of the Leash is to define the limits of the Hound’s freedom; the Leash does not know how bad it is for the Hound. The Leash is affectionate friends with the Handler; maybe lovers, up to you. The Leash does not know that they cannot leave the city where the Handler lives and the Hound sleeps and the mech rests powered down, and every Hound knows that the Handler can yank the Leash. Take this good person and threaten them, fuck them up a little. Kill them, on rare occasions. It’s happened. Ruins the Hound, but a Hound that won’t learn leash discipline is ruined anyway, and it’s a hell of an example to the rest of them.
The Chew Toy is what they do with washouts. Hounds have a lot of shit they need to work out, and after a certain point in the program Hounds don’t have human rights any more because they’re not human enough, so there’s not much else to do with them. You just assign them to the kennels without assigning them a bed or a mech or a Handler and they work it out eventually. Some of them live a long time! A lot of dogs have a favourite Chew Toy.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but WOW I am really into pups. Me 18 months ago would not have said this, and now I see one and:
“And, so, to summarise.”
Doreen Penelope Argent quickly took a sip from a little plastic cup of water. She’d been talking for about 30 minutes now, and had been managing herself well, she thought, given this was her first formal presentation. Half a dozen Foundation Handlers were sat on soft, woven fabric-covered chairs around a central wooden conference table, in the centre of which stood a camera to broadcast on the Foundation’s secure intranet to locations around the world. In truth there were about thirty Handlers in attendance, collectively representing over half the Foundation’s Vital Frame pilots. The remote watchers’s faces were displayed on the far wall via a ceiling-mounter overhead projector, and all of them were – in Penny’s estimation – watching with rapt attention.
It was one of the scariest things she’d ever done, but the proudest moment of her career so far.
[[MORE]]For the entire length of the presentation the whiteboard upon which Penny’s slideshow had been projected had been flanked by one individual in particular, a giant bear of a pilot of callsign Liger. Liger was a Pilot that needed no introduction, being the third generation pilot of one of the Foundation’s main arms of propaganda, the Great Pulsar Liger, a garishly-coloured Frame marketed to children and their nostalgic parents alike. He – for the Foundation’s branding consistency was very clear that this Pilot was to be considered a man for all – had just been allocated to Penny’s command, and she wasn’t about to waste such a valuable resource. She’d wasted no time in using him effectively, launching new Liger-branded marketing campaigns and media projects alike.
At the very start of the presentation, Penny had brought Liger in, stood him to the side of the projector screen and instructed him to take a signature heroic pose. Then in a very clear voice she had enunciated the word “STAY”. Penny proceeded to treat him as nothing more than a glorified cardboard cutout and, throughout the entire presentation, Liger hadn’t moved a muscle.
Before she started talking again, she walked over to a little round table bearing nothing but an electric kettle and clicked the button down. Without explaining why it was there or what it was for, she returned to waving her telescopic pointer at the projector screen. “With the revolutionary new practice of neuro-ablative conditioning, the job of a Handler is more hands-off than ever before. From now on, all you have to do is remember to be COLD.”
Click
“Construct their leash. Interrogate them for details about their life. Focus on their insecurities, especially regarding authority and regret. This will allow you to tailor the conditioning programme to each pilot. The structure of every programme is uniform so that it can be filled with the specifics that pertain to each individual asset.”
Click
“Objective language. We’re long past the days of beatings and verbal abuse. No more screaming, ‘at ease faggot!’ until they do what you tell them to.” Her example was underscored with a Full Metal Jacket-style aggressive finger pointing to some imaginary pilot beneath her, accompanied by a polite tittering from the assembled audience. “To our pilots, everything you say should be treated as an objective fact. This does require a calm, authoritative manner, but this can be easily trained for with conventional acting classes.”
Click
“Lifeline. The central thrust of your conditioning programme is to create a scenario in their head that the Foundation is the only thing that can give their life purpose, and that without the Foundation they’re as good as dead. They’re dependent on you for whatever subjective psychological needs they have, and your provision of these needs is their salvation. Of course, the implicit threat of withdrawal of their Lifeline”, she tapped the word on the screen with the pointer, “means that failing to live up to your expectations of them will be tantamount to losing a reason for existance.”
Click
“Don’t fuck the dog. Simple enough. You are to position yourself as an absolute authority figure in their life. Based on their history, this could look like a parental figure, a schoolteacher, a religious leader, a military commander, a feudal lord, a god, whatever kind of authority holds the most sway over their insecurities. Sexual encounters will be one of your most important structures for both rewards and punishment, and as such the idea of sex with their Handler should be tantalising and an unreachably lofty fantasy. Of course, this also means that you don’t actually have to, you know, be good enough at sex to fulfil this fantasy.”
Another chorus of titters.
And now for the coup de grace.
“HEEL.” Immediately, Liger sprung to action. He proudly, confidently strode across the room to Penny’s side, smiling to himself with endless self-assurance. Reaching Her side, his rightful place, made him feel so calm. Everything was okay. He was the hero, and his girl was by his side. He would do anything to protect his girl, because that’s what heroes do.
“Be a good boy and fetch me that kettle would you?”
“Yes Miss!”
By now a thick gout of steam was issuing from the kettle’s spout. Liger practically bounded over to retrieve it, presenting it to his Handler like labrador carrying a ball. “Good boy,” she said, and ever muscle in his body relaxed. She reached up with gloved hands to ruffle his hair. She would never touch him with bare skin. He didn’t dare to dream of such an impossibly wonderful thing.
“Now, strip.”
He did so without question or hesitation. First came off the boots, socks and flight suit trousers. His legs were incredibly muscular, the result of a carefully managed gym schedule. Then he removed the flight jacket and compression suit top, revealing his foundation-mandated chest binder. He’d been on HRT for too long to hide the fact that he’d grown breasts, but there was no point in surgery to remove them. It would risk complications, but more importantly it would cut down on his uptime, and there was no excure for that. He was too important an asset to the Foundation.
He stood there, beaming. If he had a tail it would be wagging.
“STAY.”
Immediately every muscle in his body froze up once again. He might have been a statue for all the difference it would have made. It wasn’t even clear whether or not he was breathing.
Penny popped the lid and nonchalantly threw the kettle of boiling water all over Liger’s midsection. She made sure not to get the face. It was too important. He remained entirely still as his skin turned red and began to blister and burn, smiling all the while.
“And there you have it.”
She let the absurd sight linger for just a couple of moments before snapping her fingers. All of a sudden movement returned to Liger, and he doubled over, his face twisted in surprise and pain. It was all he could do to stop himself from screaming.
“Okay, take your clothes and go and get a cold shower. It’s next door, turn left as you go out.”
He was gone as soon as he could get his wobbly legs underneath him. After the door closed Penny smiled and turned to the audience and the camera.
“Any questions?”
Even after months of torture, Is there still hope for personhood in a Hounds shattered psyche?
Imagining how it would feel for a hound if it ever managed to escape me.
Some dregs of resistance still left in its ruined mind spark, a feeble fleeting feeling of humanity. It reminds itself that it is a person, it deserves better. It should be seen and treated as an equal, with love and desire.
It soon realises the difficulty in its new found task. It is in a completely different country than before it was mine. All of its documentation and paperwork belonging to me. No access to any bank acounts, phones or ways to contact anyone but me.
Everytime people look at it, it is clear there is something fundamentally wrong with it. Its eyes are blank and hollow, every word it struggles to gasp out a reminder than human words are unsuited for its tongue. It feels a deep desire to bark, to get on its knees and to do what its told.
Someone sees this in it, goes out to a bar and begins drinking together. It feels nice, almost happy for the first time since abandoning me. It is told to go back home with her. It gets fucked, abused, hit, strangled. All of it incomplete. Incomparable.
It lies awake in her bed while she sleeps, unable to get me out of its thoughts. How much better my hands feel upon it. How much more complete it felt servicing my cock. How every slap and kick and punch from me was a divine blessing.
It runs away once more, but this time back to me. It finds me waiting expectantly, knowing it would inevitably return. It begs and pleads for forgiveness, desperate for a second chance.
It is given one and it is eternally grateful. Thanking me for every cut my knife makes into its flesh. Grateful for every time my boot slams into its stomach. Telling me how much it loves me and how much it wishes it never left. How much more perfect its life is serving my every whim and desire. Forgetting itself and putting me before all else.
ALT
ALT
ALT
ALTtectusfriend | tegofriend
texifriend | handler
tectusfriend/tegofriend/texifriend - a tueriyn partner.
handler - a tueriyn spouse.
terms/flags by us. tagging @radiomogai & @dimensen.
“So let me get this straight… you’re a recently decommissioned mech pilot, and you feel your former workplace may have… exploited you?”
Lawyer rubbing her hands together as she creates a whole new cottage industry.
Sono aperte le iscrizioni al Corso per Conduttori Cinofili di Esposizione Handler ENCI 2026!
Il Kennel Club Palermo, in collaborazione con Faccedicane ASD, organizza un percorso formativo completo con iscrizione al Registro Nazionale ENCI e docenti altamente qualificati.
📅 Date del corso:
7–8 febbraio • 14–15 febbraio • 21–22 febbraio 7–8 marzo • 14–15 marzo
Esame: 28 marzo
Il programma include: salute e benessere del cane, tecniche di primo soccorso, cinognostica, giudizio, razze, preparazione sul ring, etogramma, regolamenti e molto altro.
📌 Info e iscrizioni:
Via Ettore Gabrici 13 (PA)
📧 faccedicaneasd@gmail.com
📞 3343893275 – 3773157498
Kennel Club Palermo: 0917286572
Un’occasione unica per chi vuole intraprendere o perfezionare il percorso da handler professionista.
An Exerpt From The Black Box of Unit 384, Callsign Angel, 10 Hours Before Confirmed Destruction
The Handler takes a break from mainline to see the Stories theme. And look now, she got herself the most precious ugly baby!
Credit - Diamond Graphics (@Bishyantir) / X
Into your arm, another iteration down, the soft soothing voice in the back of your mind that is your handler is quiet as she seems confused at your readings.
This was fine, it gave you time to disable the safeties. 623 seconds left.
your hands work with practiced precision as you use your hand tools to rip into the side frame of your controls and begin turning off the limiters that prevent burn out.
“Hound sto-” handler’s voice cuts out as the jammers begin. 413 seconds left .
you soon have all the safeties off and can feel every piston every actuator through your neural mesh that is your brain. you give yourself 10 seconds to adjust. 389 seconds left.
After those 10 seconds you begin moving. going faster than you should be able to as you make sure to inject only 3cc’s of adrenaline over the course of 20 seconds. 369 seconds left.
You make it to the first check point and eliminate the sleeper agents in camp, ignoring the pleasure and pain you get for firing off your cannons only for it to hit ‘allies’. it takes a precious 30 seconds before you take off again. 339 seconds left.
at the second check point they don’t expect you because comms are still down. there is chaos on the base as you shoot at the three traitors barracks, collateral damage as you don’t have the time to single out the traitors, you found that out last time. the whole process took another 20 seconds as you take off again, feeling something wet go down your chin as your nose is bleeding. 319 seconds left.
third checkpoint you fly past as you destroy the last enemy barracks, removing the sleeper agents. since you didn’t stop that only took a whole 9 seconds. 310 seconds left.
you then fly to the hidden enemy base, it was a bit of a flight but since you knew where it was you only had to get in range of your heavy missile rack on your back left shoulder before letting it go. 240 seconds left.
you make sure to inject your body with more stims to keep it going and awake, ignoring the pain slowly building in your chest. 220 seconds left.
you rapidly change your flight vector to fly towards the jammer and use your laser rifle’s range to precisely shoot its power supply, restoring comms to a very pissed off handler. 200 seconds left.
Your readings when she sees them always have her speechless for another 30 seconds, which is good. you tell her.
“ enemies jammed comms, Sleeper agents eliminated, authorization code Delta-Indigo-Echo is in effect, have all hounds scramble east bound at heading Niner-Five-Two, permission to be let off the leash requested Hazel.”
You two had a code, you were only to use her real name if an explanation would take too long for survival of both of us. 170 seconds left.
“…Understood, Hound off the leash.” Her voice was strained, worried, as it always is. 160 seconds left.
With that restriction lifted you remove your muzzle and breath in deep. the coppery smell of blood mixing with the drugged haze of the cockpit let you catch your breath. 140 seconds left.
You then push yourself to the last area. where the Ace will be.
The white mech with a simple rose painted on its wings stands where it always does. you waste no time with words as it deploys its drones from the wings. your machine guns firing to try and get most of them, 80% this time. nice. 110 seconds left.
it boosts towards you and you boost towards it, your plasma dagger hidden in your left arm as you lead with your right to try and faint with the machine gun. it works 50% of the time. 100 seconds left
this time what it gets you is a kick to the head which causes your pain to flare all over your body as the sensors report the damage, and you spit blood. a smile on your lips. 90 seconds.
you drop your laser rifle to slash with the plasma dagger and it cuts the enemies arm and left wing off. nice~ you dont let the high of combat drugs get to you as you immediately thrust up to not get impaled by the remaining 20% of drones. 60 seconds left.
The enemy mech tries to run away as well, boosting all wrong however as you removed their left wing. it makes them off balance and perfect for whats left of your missiles, you release all of them around it as you charge in. The counter missles flying right past you as the slaming of metal on metal rings out between explosions, your plasma dagger crushed by the last remaining arm of the enemy as you aim the machinegun into its cockpit and pull the trigger. shutting it down with a Brrrrrrrrrt of your machine gun. 30 seconds left.
With your left arm hanging off your body you use your machine gun to rip it off and throw it to your 6 o clock position to hit the stealth fighter model and remove its camo. 15 seconds left.
You turn to face it only to feel the burning sting engulf you as your vision turns a blinding white.
You scratch another mark…..
You like red laser dots because you’re a catgirl. I like them because I’m a decommissioned mecha pilot who can’t get off unless she thinks she’s going to get a bullet between the eyes in the next 10 seconds. we are not the same
It’s torture, Mutt. Every single day I get on this headset, stay at my desk and I have to hear you scream and whimper while I talk you through it. Do you know how fucking hard it is to not get myself off to it?
I hate this stupid company for one reason, and it’s that I can’t touch myself while you whine about how it feels like your arm’s been ripped off. I wish I could actually enjoy myself around you, reach down while I hear you cry in your cockpit, but company policy says I have to stay somewhat composed during your deployments. You’re killing me.
I try to recreate that feeling after working hours, but you never make the same noises. You don’t convey that same emotion that you do on the field. It just isn’t the same! No matter how often I hit you, all you ask for is more. This isn’t the same fear you feel on the field, and it’s ruining the mood for me.
Oh, well. Hopefully one day, the supervisor eases up on restrictions, or maybe I’ll introduce my service weapon into the bedroom. Until then, this’ll have to do. Flip over, Mutt, we aren’t done yet.
>Looking for a new leading role in a militia force
>Ask the Mech Program Supervisor if the Handler position is kinship or identity death
>She doesn’t understand [pull out illustrated diagram explaining what is kinship and what is identity death]
>She laughs and says “it’s a good program Miss”
>Join the militia as a Handler
>My Hound is stim-addicted and humps my boot
hound backseating its own conditioning
“you need to maintain the disorganized attachment style or I- this pilot won’t rely on you for emotional support.”
ZAP
“ow. good start but you need to start taking on some motherly qualities too. have you tried saying ‘ara ara’?”
ZAP
