I'll Make You Mine

Toys Don't Talk: I̶n̶k̶

(Content warnings: Noncon body modification, dubcon surgery, domestic abuse, degradation, inaccurate medical procedures, gore, body horror, cannibalism, mouth gore/sewing shut, dehumanization/objectification, voice dysphoria, victim blaming, gaslighting, mind break, brainwashing/conditioning. Anesthesia? Never heard of her!)

Ink was getting pretty good at fighting in his new style (and in dresses). Plenty of head cocking, giggling, bouncy movements, and creepiness. Nightmare wanted him to dance in battle, but also look robotic. It was a hard balance. The parasol wasn't so bad to use, but he missed Broomie. He still felt stupid fighting with a pink umbrella meant for decoration. What should he name it anyway? Blossom? Same first letter as Broomie, it felt fitting.

The artist was also slower today, and not just because he wasn't in the mood. He barely got any sleep. He only got seven hours of shuteye with his new schedule, he used to get fourteen. Nightmare insisted napping was a privilege and prevented him from taking one. until he earned it. Ink tried before and he then got a half hour of shocks with the shock collar. He hated that thing.

And he didn't like anything else he was doing.

Drained was the best word for how he felt. Ink was so done with Nightmare's 'training' and control, contract be damned. Something in him changed after the failed escape attempt. He drank his vials, but he still felt empty, like he was just going through the motions. His voice became monotone and he couldn't find the energy to do much anymore, not even laugh. He couldn't recognize his own reflection anymore. Ink was tired of drinking poison or getting yelled at or getting electrocuted. If he tried to fight back, the punishments got worse and more painful. Nightmare tried not to bruise or scar him, but the long-sleeved high-collared dresses were becoming too common.

Ink tried to tell himself each scar was worth it. There had to be some other reason his mind and body were getting weaker each day. It wasn't because Nightmare was torturing, starving, and overworking him. It was because . . . he was only trying to help him. At least, that's what he told himself. Nightmare wouldn't go through all this effort if he didn't love him, right? And Ink agreed to his contract, so Night wasn't completely to blame. Maybe it would've been better if he dated before. That way he could compare Nightmare's actions to that imaginary person. Or what if there were people worse than Nightmare? Ugh, everything was so confusing.

Not everything was terrible. Nightmare gave him little rewards if he listened. Less training sessions, cuddles, kisses, praise, food, and even a teddy bear one time. Ink knew it was to further push the 'innocent cutesy doll' role onto him, but it was still nice and fluffy. It made sleeping much easier. He loved Nightmare so much but . . . he was so tired of this shit.

The worst part was that it was getting easier to obey. He memorized and internalized the rules and command signals. And it was so tempting to be good and get the treats instead of torture. He loved it when Nightmare showed his soft side. His favorite thing was when he set him on his lap and pet him with his tendrils, usually while he was doing office work. It would be so much easier to be an airheaded toy . . .

No, stop that!

Ugh, he was so confused. Some days, Nightmare acted like the perfect boyfriend and other days he was a violent monster. Sometimes he switched in the same day without warning. Ink felt like he just kept him around to dress up and beat up.

Ink wanted his friends. He wanted them to rescue him from this paradise turned hell. But he knew they weren't going to find him, they probably didn't even care. Hey, if he didn't hear any worries about them from Nightmare, they weren't a problem to him. Nightmare . . . well, he came up with some very creative threats if he ever tried to leave on his own again. If he put up with a few more weeks, maybe he'd have the courage to stand up and make some demands. He wanted his freedom back.