Vocal analysis is the most fun an enby can have without taking their clothes off

[scientistxSaturday]

Part 4:

They remember meeting her, they had just woken up, mind Fuzzy, but certainly not as bad as now, they thought their girlfriend was putting on voices, her voice training and variety of social masks could've theoretically brought out a theaterful of range, they started to hear the 2 of the voices of the commune popping up, then, when too much variety arose, some popping out like a rotating cast, the speaking too clean, too full of emotion, lines too well written and delivered, they thought there was a new TV show out, the laughter every half minute matched the s***d that only tv shows can eek out punchlines, but based on the phrases they could pick out, it was far too close to their interests for them not to have heard about this theoretical new show, and the commune plans out tv watching with a vigor and loyalty that monogamous couples reserve for social engagements.

***Disclaimer and content warnings in the comments***

Then, they thought it must be a surprise party! But with at least 11 distinct voices, 9 people was far more than their girlfriend would approve last-minute invitation of. They had almost finished getting ready when they realized, the projection of the voice, the resonance through all the furniture while still spoken at a low volume, the sweetness it carried so far, all the little frequencies and overtones preserved in hi fidelity, it was coming from higher than the tv sat, some of the sources pointing directly towards the bedroom rather than towards the couch facing opposite, all of it had to be human, how could all of these things be true at the same time?

They couldn't be.

They opened the door to the living room, and there sat 5 people, their girlfriend, their girlfriend's girlfriend Cerith, and 3 strangers, all stupendously entertained. That made 5 people. 5 and 11, as you know, are 2 different numbers, and tv was just the silent sideshow of Google photos memories like always and was thusly not contributing to the number of voices.

Being someone who did impressions, Saturn knew how to create different voices, by tensing up or loosening their vocal chords, by changing the shape inside their mouth using their tongue, lips, jaw angle, and soft pallette, but it was almost impossible to actually erase the fundamental "you" sound, the timbre of your default voice is likely going to be a remaining spice in the mix, unless you apply the previous techniques perfectly with absolutely no slip ups, or you have massive amounts of air to work with, creating new channels through your body, controlling the very bottom of your diaphragm through to your nose, controlling not just vocal tension, but the actual waveforms you are wiggling in. The more you add to an impression, the more complicated your improv script is on top of that, the more likely everything is to topple over, since it is literally a sequence of events, one depending on the other before it, happening at the s***d of cognition.

They went to the kitchen, preparing breakfast and some snacks to offer the guests and texted their girlfriend if they were invited to this occasion as the glance told them that they were Cerith's old friends, ancient even, by the deepset comfort in the house, and Upon recieving a "yes, of course" they sat, offered their snacks and attempted to quietly blend in to investigate. They contributed little quips, but clearly, there was alot to catch up on that they didn't want to interrupt with their big splashy introduction.

Of the 3, one was clearly the boss, having brought her sibling and her sibling's boyfriend from far off lands, recounting long exhausting days of tourism, but mostly prompting the others to tell it "their way, so good how you tell it" . Cerith's friendship was stronger with the sibling, who was interesting, and supremely cute with a dolly weirdgirl aesthetic and personality, though ashamed about her whole deal, Saturn was scared to play conversational catch, despite their interest in such a well cultivated personality, sticking to answering questions and complimenting, but the Boss was not so relatable.

The Boss gave them a look of sly, accusatory recognition, and they gave one back, their face couldn't help it, despite only seeing their face once in the google photo slideshow, they deeply recognized this person, they often recognized their "people" like two vampires sussing each other out at a crowded masquerade ball, all the false bat masks and cloaks falling away to the Truth, but this was even a step further than that, neither did it have the exact feeling of the last time they'd fallen in love at first sight. That time, the face of her past love didn't dare reveal that she was also ensnared, but instead it was the way her past love spoke and gestured that held that that "I know you, we're going to be very important to each other" ominous quality. With this Boss character, it felt like she already knew them, maybe the Barney Stintson type they'd been in their last life, knew how they were going to fall, going to embarrass themselves, and was treacherously smirking about it.

Or maybe it was something more pedestrian? Saturn accidentally being a hot topic of most realms they inhabit, they'd gotten used to a specific expression, when someone they didn't know had heard allll of their stories from someone they also didn't know, it was cheeky, sympathetic, it was "you poor brilliant idiot, all that thinking is never gonna help you, I'm so excited to see your next stunt now I know to watch for you." You know when someone knows exactly how you're wrong but won't tell you because watching is so much more entertaining to them. But, as far as they knew, she had only heard a few whispers about Saturn before this, not enough to look so so knowing, more knowingly that she was looking at her oldest friends.

Joke after joke, their laughter is yanked out of them, not through attempting to be easygoing, in fact, when they cast themselves quiet in any sense, it's actually done by repeatedly sending a close mouth and vocal chords function, barely able to discern necessary communication from "overclarity" or their overwhelming desire to schmooze.

The punchlines come from everyone, but they slowly put together that it's actually the Boss setting up for these moments of others' glory. Everyone takes such ownership of their moment, her set ups so seemless that even some of the most suspicious and anxiety ridden of their compatriots go along and feel empowered.

Saturn had played the human instrument before, pleasure, ***, ***, happiness, belonging, and even through careful study of their best friend, they could grease near anyone no matter how different, in laughter, by becoming a vessel in the rivers of relatabilty, but more than putting on a show, she was like a muse, bringing the best words, the best performance out of someone was something they could only do incompletely, sometimes, or with their closest friends. They didn't know it was possible to master this skill so entirely, all tension, all awkwardness totally relinquished from this perfect frictionless moment, and this was clearly nowhere near her best work.

They had half-solved /a/ mystery, but that wasn't the question they came here with, they'd gotten so wrapped up in /what/ was being said they rewound to listen to the /how,/ with each story from the 3 visitors, they realized they had hardly registered the other 2s voices, all except their most confident strides coming forth mumbled in way drywall just doesn't catch.

It was Her. She was the entire cast of characters. Her lungs taking up half her total volume, everyone else's instrument was just a smaller version of hers, so if she rolled her internal tumblers correctly, she could be a seemless shapeshifter.

'"That was it. Oh no. /That/ was /it/!"'

They had never heard her scared before, she was scared, a lot of people sound really different when they're afraid. Even people with strict voices become soft and compliant. Those who speak so familectally, casually, and blurrily you wonder how they navigate phone conversations with customer service suddenly whip out calculator-clear harsh diction. The mother goose accent becomes a snarling growl. And in her case, the easygoing, dominant 50s lounge singer comedianne became the eager-to-please preschool teacher half-singing like snow white, the wooden hot-tea honey timbre turned to pure crystal perfect fifths instead of leaning back, each word leaned forward in concern.

Filled with ***, She was the Angel, And Saturn was a fool.

The Fool, the Toy, And it hits them, the absolute meat they were made of: one of many little hooks that she sunk in when they first met. It started as that look whenever they talked, but no matter how much they tried to turn focus back to the various members of the impromptu party, she just drilled in. Even asking "what are you?" when every answer failed to place them into the approximately 30 types of boring to interesting people that most people seemed to imprison themselves inside.

Saturn was never going to fit in any box to someone with eyes, they were just going to learn more and do more, become more people, become fluent in more philosophies and skills lifestyles so no good story was out of reach. This made it fun to be them, but to a certain type of person who similarly sees the world as a playground and people as toys they collect and play with, the variety held the appeal of someone who had almost finished assembling their 78 Kenner death star and just needed the trash compactor monster. They already had the other 30, all the archetypes allowing for quite a large selection of games, but one person who could be many, and many types outside the 30, being a wildcard herself, these were the games she was was always consumed with cravings of, always designing new snares, new tasks, new oasis, new hypnotisms, new catch 22s and tantalizisms, scenarios that create in the subject undiscovered emotions and thoughts new emotional combinations at new heights, entirely new thoughts, new dynamics to share, setting the world's most difficult tasks knowing that your victim can complete them in using methods so creative that each other's intellect could not concieve of the others solve until explained.

Of course, at a party where they are not the focus, Saturn is not trying to reveal this open secret. This aspect that is only seen by wildcards, angels, and spiders. They are just trying to blend in, because once again, the conversation sounds so absolutely salacious, those outside the previous labels usually only read petty flirtation into exchanges in such philosophies. And that's the last impression they want to give, no matter how alluring this Boss lady is, this isn't the time to shoot their shot, that's not even what they're holding back from doing, they're just grateful to be given not just a window into, but interaction with such a close gathering on such a years' awaited reunion. But oh, she is pushing the issue, they try to free her of the bonds of politely greeting a new acquaintance, and it only fuels her fire. Every answer, trying to keep it as unhooked as possible while still contributing to the parties entertainment, only leads to more questions.

Nonstop. Their interests, what they actually do with their interests, how they kept their experiments blind, how they acquired an expert in linguistics and how they applied their expertise, how they got the materials for 48 Terrariums in the first place, why they didn't stop walking at night after the 2nd attempt on their life, what they were thinking layering that much permanent marker ink on other people's skin. How? how? how? did they know all this stuff? How did they determine the truth from the lies? Isn't experimenting a little far when you could just find a book? How are they setting up so many experiments so fast? -Saturn shot back: a question just trying to get the Boss to focus on anyone but them- it backfired: How are They cold reading her so well? They don't want to be rude, and not answer, but they have never perfected the art of shutting up, and being surrounded by Introverts fluent in this skill, unaware of Saturn's inability, this looks like a flagrant display, they've never felt to honored, so appreciated, so seen, or so in the way in their life.

And every little inch she'd reveal about herself, like dita von teese, personality: a Platonic Professional. The Ultimate friend, the sociolect and vocal stresses itself a resume of early youtube skits, so bold and conceptual, delivered theough knowing laughter and developed with a bond of comedic intimacy unmatched by troupes of stage and silver screen, expectations of their audience just to match their level and decode to reach this higher level of reference, the full confidence it's worth it. Comedy not for cash, not to distract from flaws, not even for views, but for the artform, captured only out of posterity and charity.

She knew the perfect lures. Now, her being the master of this conversation, Saturn knew that this wasn't innocent honesty-and-politeness-compulsion explanation. Saturn knew it was obvious what they liked, how badly they wanted it. They had had this information used against them before. They are a marketer, they know what someone speaking out of their language and in yours on purpose sounds like. But wanting to hook them, having sympathy or pity for them, wanting their attention, was different than respecting or liking or desiring them, they'd learned. They try to think nothing of it. They're more than a fly. '"But she was More!"'

'"Anyone can seem like More with a well practiced pitch, its just the first meeting, and everyone else, including her relative, was split between rolling their eyes and "wait you did THAT?" The phrasing was so precise they were either the best extrapolator and mental modeler Saturn had met or she'd met someone like Saturn before, but then why was there a desperation in her need to get them to react?"'

Considering the appeal she held before she even knew Saturn was listening, there was always the chance it was God, not the Boss that had molded her words to Saturns fantasies "'SHUT UP!"' This could be rhinestones, they had to be patient, and cool, despite their hunger.

Cool? They'd never been cool a day in their life. Except with Students they had almost no respect for. And ooo wouldn't it be so ironic if this was that same trick, reversed. Their students genuine admiration, desire for connection and they saw them, ***rs in age, as the former and not the latter, the mental age gap just too disgusting for them to see anything but a herd of cats developing the sort of crush you get on your camp counselor. Pity. Delusion. Encouraging greatness, but with next to no hope they could ever approach their unintentional devotees fervor as humans, let alone social capital equals.

They filled in their brow in with yellow. And prepared for the mental battle on top of the gloating. '"Gosh! ...on top, ...on top, ...on top!"' Saturn thought they were the master of layers, the onslaughterist, but she was going to be relentless. She wasn't just going to take care of Saturn. Because that's not the Full Point. And it's soo important to girls like her that you gain a holistic perspective if they were going to bother explaining.

The point. The point was that it was a dangerous ideology in the hands of the most powerful people. That everything is learnable, that once you understand it, you have full right to toy with every single variable, to make it live up to its potential or just for fun, using everything you know about this universe to build a new one.

She is not one of those girls who does it for the ***, she actually finds. It fascinating.

Not just the ***, not just the status, it's fine to wield your status over people, it's fine, even lauded, to use an earnings, knowledge, connections, scheduling, and respect differential to attract and entrap partners that will never be able to bridge that gap.

But what makes you a freak, is that you actually consider the very mechanics, the knowledge base itself, the tools, the specificity, the generosity, the thoroughly earned God Complex, the instructions, denoting the posture and position, the exercises that demand more adherence than every other area of life, the complicity in your vulnerability, the deeply seeing, the clinical, the care, the privacy, the records, the clean, the smell, the voice, the little terms and their thousand separate glossaries, the contradictions, the professionalism and the messy humanity, the pressure to be kinder as the urgency deepens, as the need for that clear head intensifies, the temptation to be removed as every miracle, every unavoidable disaster slips through your gloved fingers, every little detail is another little button that means you are thinking in a way wholly incompatible with moral society. There's no way you aren't projecting your sick little fantasy on sooo many sacred everyday processes.

With brown and then red, they brought the corners of their lips out and curving up, just slightly, like a tigers grin.

Everyone is Fine calling everyone else ***s, but what really eats them is biology applies to them too. The cold, cruel similarity in our hardware, the fact someone studying alone in a room for years can just a priori know so much about them, specifically, and worse, that simply getting a look, a smell at them can reveal secrets they thought they had full right to take to their grave.

Asymmetrical information, having the Advantage over someone, is usually not something you're even allowed to reveal, no matter how fun the information, how pure the intention, especially pure intentions, certain differentials, when revealed, will always be treated like a declaration of war.

This was Saturn's curse, having studied to make a better conversational partner, which only led to them being seduced by the magic of conveying dense and extremely large informational loads, playing with pacing, making them guess just how much you had and where, creating a mystery, completely misleading with the truth, stone skipping the same fact from every discipline, using their knowledge bases schemas' against them, presenting a completely sci-fi premise, and proving it is true not in the future, not in another universe, but here, and now. with things you know they know, speaking to them in the trenches of the subject at the depth that they know you can't possibly know they know. Making them the center of the universe, setting facts at an orbit around them, each with close ties to their self-concept. Completely devaluing their most vital schema, watching them scramble, concentration risk collapsing every relationship to every other schema, there are no worthy alternatives until your suggestion, no matter how counter to their self concept it is, the game of sending someone's chi through the roof by using what they already know to take them 0 to Bachelors in their most foreign subject in 2 hours, Connecting their favorite schemas in a geometry that actually completely changes their inner space, the space to play, the variety of games superseding any other type of recreation, given that it is grown exponentially by every fact in the real and imagined world instead of being constrained by what is actually possible. But the game? It was so, so possible.

They punctuated their new smile with two small blue dots in their dimples.

Unfortunately and fortunately regarding Saturns curse and lack of experience respectively, She had something the average person lacked. A Doctorate. And, similar to Saturn, she doesn't normally get to play these games, a lioness always fed ground meat. A lioness ***d to feign lazy housecat, put away all her tricks, or she is denied even that indignity.

And when someone like Her meets someone like Saturn, they see a very healthy juicy buffalo, their mere existence an invitation to a fair fight.

But Saturn didn't actually know if it /was/ a fair fight, /they/ had revealed many of their favorite subjects, and instead of revealing the same, She complimented, She entertained, She spoke on common knowledge, She clearly kept pace with most of the wildcards, skipping across disciplines, but she mostly dealt from the deck that Saturn already knew was her speciality, they didn't even know if they had street smarts up over her, one of their favorite Trump Cards for those in their ivory towers, it pokes holes in a wide variety of offenses, their depth in the field allowing them to make it /feel/ like academia.

This was going to be more than intellectual warfare, because she knows that's what they want, that's what they know she can handle, she's a trickster by nature, and while she's always more generous than you could hope, she also feels the need to slip in a bit of mischief with every gift, she likes knowing that she's such a good gift giver that you will accept her every invitation, no matter how much her devilish smile or riddler-esque her preamble, sometimes in the form of deeply ominous questions, her way of determining consent without actually thoroughly informing you, and sometimes, her way of customizing the experience to push more of your buttons.

But that's the thing about being the best, good enough and you can get away with anything.

End of Part 4

[scientistxSaturday]

Content warning:
Anxiety, health body horror, unreality, very hardcore kink (many will find this tame tbf), dubious consent, and other nonsense regarding bad consent practices that do not reflect how I actually play


Disclaimer: slow pacing, I recommend reading the previous 2 parts for this to make sense, this story includes lots of talking to oneself indicated by '" (vs speaking out loud which is just ") also this is the most self indulgent fic on this site lol enjoy :p


If you're trying to signal that you are interested in play like this by liking this story, this site doesn't really actually let me know who liked it, just how many so ur gonna havta comment or do me if you want me to know lol.