Pilot served under one "Loveless," pilot of AC "King's Virtue" before ownership was transferred to one "Paracelsus," pilot of AC "Caelestis."
Hound holds a surprisingly efficient and decorated "career," despite noted attitude problems by former and current Handlers.
Note: Pilot did not handle change of environment well. Handler notes multiple desertion attempts since acquisition, opted for use of heavy stun needle launcher to detain pilot by overloading the Hound's AC systems.
Pilot began deploying for missions alongside Handler to deter attempts to desert.
Handler notes lack of emotion standard with 4th Gen. augmentation, as well as early-stage Coral burn-in.
This is a creative writing/ rp blog I started after acting my way into a doomed yuri mechsploitation RP with my gf (lmao)
Yes, it is based off of my playthrough of Armored Core 6.
All events that i write about take place during or after the Liberator of Rubicon ending.
#ask hound is answered asks (if i end up opening the ask box)
#hound originals are ooc silly posts as well as non-mission related posts.
#hound x handler is for any romance, sex, or any other suggestive things that happen outside the cockpit.
#hound mission log will be journal style after-action reports.
#in the cockpit will be normal writing from the perspective my hound (self-insert) on the field.
#ALL-MIND REG. will be any "profiles" for characters that get introduced to whatever i happen to be writing about.
This blog is just a creative outlet for me and I'm not looking for any big-time success. If you enjoy what I write, thank you. :)
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What? No, it's not a "mechsplo forcefem" thing β she'd already figured out that she was a girl long before getting into the giant robot. The combat drugs did however make her gay.
Hounds are designed to be unable to procreate with one another. A combination of efficiency, psyche evaluations, and Handler sanity preference has cemented this as the standard.
So thereβs no traditional Hound families, though several found families exist within their squads and formations, as some human functions are easier to harness than suppress.
These families are referred to as packs to reinforce their natures, helping to keep a Hounds from being *too* cocky and independent while maintaining discipline.
Like in any family, there ends up being a variety of heirlooms, which can range from something small like a cherished plushie from a veteran Hound, to an entire mech. Even if outdated, these mechs are in pristine condition, maintained by the pack members when they become damaged .
These heirlooms are passed down when the current βmatriarchβ of a pack is decommissioned through any means. Death, retirement, or even being dethroned in certain packs.
It is recorded that some hounds will try to become members of a pack to just have a chance at receiving the heirloom, indicating the value placed upon these items within Hound cultures.
Currently, the most coveted heirloom recorded is a model H3-R9 scouting mech equipped with long range weapons such as a SBN magnetic rifle, located in Oaxaca, Mexico. This is closely followed by a shark shaped plushie in Γlmhult, Sweden.
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Hound on a lot of combat stims: One pup ALONE, betrayed by the country it loves is now the last hope in its final hour of need prepare to be driven like never before by the maestro
"βmech pilots are horny because they get sweaty and fuck after the fightsβ you pedestrian, mech pilots are horny because the neural feedback loop from striking an acquired target w/ +90% accuracy on a full flight of LRMs makes most pilots leak in their seat. Itβs not about two pilots, separated by mountains of metal, learning to mutually respect the others skill itβs about how these industrial war machines have direct lines into their nervous systems and an oxytocin & dopamine tap directly linking destruction to pleasure."
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I want to slowly force you to behave more and more like a puppy.
Whenever we are sitting near each other and you express confusion, a light push to make your head lull to the side. The pushes growing stronger and stronger each time.
Stroking your head seemingly absentmindedly and occasionally an ear scratch.
When we're resting on a sofa, gently but firmly encouraging you to rest your head on my shoulder and eventually my lap.
Gifting you a heart choker for your birthday or some other appropriate celebration.
Guilt tripping you into wearing it if you don't do so automatically.
Whilst you are sleeping tying a thin thread around the hollow metal ring that forms the heart.
Telling you it came with the "choker".
Holding it gently whenever we are together. Eventually swapping it for some string.
Starting to pull on it when I want you closer.
Gifting you a thicker collar, still with the heart but attaching a proper lead this time.
Adding a name tag and calling you pet more often.
One day I wake you up early and tell you we're going somewhere.
I walk you into the building, my grip tighter than usual and I seem worried.
I talk to the thing at the desk and we head to the very back of the building.
I help you up the steps into some great metal carcass, murmuring to myself that "this is right, this will be fine. Only a month." as I do.
I inject you with something and tell you it is to help adjust to it. You don't know what 'it' is, but I gesture at the vast construct as I say the word, which gives you an idea.
I sit you in some strange sphere and strap you in. The last words you hear before a whole month of all sound becoming static or muffled are: "Ok pup, that ring at the end of the corridoor, try to hit it. Don't worry about how, just..... try."
TW: noncon, slapping, ass grabbing, choking, forced stripping
========================================
Hound lined up next to its battle-sisters on the hanger floor, beside where each of their mechs stood nearby in the respective hangers
Hound and its sisters were chatting amongst themselves, wondering why they were called when they succeeded with the missions with no causalities and even brought back two more future hounds
As loud clicking of footsteps echoed through the hanger, hound and its sisters quieted immediately, straightening their posture and saluting
Handler walks up the group, a wicked smile on their face, one they have when someone has to suffer...
The smile made the hound group uneasy, scared of whats to come
Handler gently quickly saluted the group before speaking in their soft and honey sweet tone
"At ease! Now I would like to say congratulations on your latest sortie. Very fine work indeed, good job to each of you!"
They looked upon the group, seeing each one have a smile burning on their face, all except for one
Handler walks up to the one not smiling, to the hound not like the others
"You, my hound, why are you not smiling and enjoying the praise?"
It lowers its head, avoiding all eye contact, only to be met with a leather glove gripping its chin and forcing its head to stare right into the Handlers eyes
"Be-because um I didn't do anything really. They did all the work I just mopped up the dirty work..." Every word it spoke had less and less force behind it, ending with a meek quiet tone
Handler scans them for a minute, looking up and down the line of its battle-sisters before refocusing on their hound
"My dear hound, this mission would not have worked without you! You deserve the praise and rewards as much as they do!"
Hound tries to look away as best it can, shaking its head 'no'
Handler grabs its cheeks in one hand, squeezing hard to make the hound whimper in pain as it looks once again into Handlers eyes
"That wasn't a suggestion mutt. Let me make it more simple for you. I order you to accept all the praise and reply with a heartfelt 'thank you' from each one, got that?"
Hounds eyes go wide in fear, seeing no way out and hoping it will be all over soon
Handler squeezes their hand harder on its cheeks
"I'll ask once again, do you copy mutt?"
Hound gently nods, holding its breath the entire time
"Speak!"
"Y-yes! Yes! I-I understand!"
Handler smirks hard, releasing their grip before leaning in, stopping only mere centimeters away from hounds face
"Good. Dog."
Hounds face immediately goes red, its breath is caught in its throat as it tries to force itself to speak. It quickly turns its head and clears it throat before looking right back at Handler
"Th-thank you Handler!"
A soft warm smile grows on Handlers face, giving a soft pat on the hounds head, then standing straight up and looking to the rest of the lineup
"Hounds, for doing such a good job today I encourage you to praise your sister-hound today. Make sure it learns how to take compliments well. Give as many as you, however you want. Got that?"
"Copy!" They all shout in unison
Hounds face goes pale as it feels the sadistic eyes of all its battle-sisters turn at once to it, it takes a deep breath hoping it won't be so bad
Handler smirks, taking a few steps back before giving one simple command:
"Begin."
Within seconds the lineup has surrounded hound on all sides and begin bombarding it with compliments. It struggles to comprehend whats happening before its brain catches up and it starts spewing out "thank you's" to each of them
It only takes a few short minutes before one of them grabs its ass and gives it a playful squeeze. Hound turns to the owner of the hand and stares blankly, trying to think of what to do. That was until it heard them chuckle, whipping its head around to look at Handler once more
"Oh I should mention." They gleefully calls out. "If the hound there doesn't respond correctly or in a timely manner you may punish it however you see fit."
There was a lot of emphasis on the word 'however'
Too much emphasis...
The one grabbing its ass chuckles, causing hound to look at her
"I never got my thank you, mutt." She smiles hard.
Before it could speak she raises her other hand up, and grips hounds hair, forcing a yelp out of its throat. She yanks its head back and forces it to its knees on the floor
"Y'know I don't think I ever got a thank you as well!" Another chimes in before quickly slapping hound across the face. forcing a whimper to escapes its lips
Before hound could full recover from the daze of the slap, the area became bombarded with the rest of its battle-sisters saying they never got "thank you's" either
Hound felt a hand wrap around its throat and starting squeezing, causing hounds hands to fly up on instinct to stop it
As it tries to cry out a pair of fingers is shoved down its throat, causing tears to well up in its eyes and it clicks together what its night is gonna be like
Hands start grabbing, squeezing, clawing, jabbing, everything to hound. Hound could only take it all, trying its best to mutter out "thank you" over and over again but never getting more than two in a row before stopped by something or someone, leading down a spiral of punishment
Handler looking at the pile of hound and its battle-sisters slowly start stripping off its clothes and soon after, each other. Handler turns and begins walking out of the hanger. Satisfied with the results.
Hound could only whimper and whine as more and more punishment came barreling down upon it from some very good and pent up hounds
. . .
Handler returns to the hanger, many hours later with the sister-hounds as personal long gone
In the middle of the hanger floor was left a very well used and bruised hound. It was too exhausted and in too much pain to even move.
Handler gleefully walks up to the hound, leaning over and tauntingly speaks
"Learn your lesson hound?"
It takes a moment, trying to process the words spoken before very slowly and painfully nodding its head
"What are you?"
"A-a good dog..." It croaks out, feeling how dry its throat is
"A very good dog indeed"
"T-thank y-you Handler...." It mumbles out trying its best to be loud and not causing itself more pain
Handler gently kneels down, pressing a soft finger to its lips. Handler waits a moment before slowly snaking their arms under their hound and lifting it up bridal style
"Now let get you cleaned up my good hound'
Handler carefully and smoothly walks out of the hanger once more, carrying their lovely hound
Hound leans its very tired and sore head against Handlers chest, listening to their heartbeat and softly mumbling out a simple sentence on repeat, like its trying to never forget.
Combat doll stuff never got me going as much as the idea of mechsploitation/corporate hound/handlerhound/bombsploitation did...
Until I played "freak circus". It was a fucking acid trip and I can't recommend it enough. It's intense and I played 1 route where I essentially went along with the story (I survived!) and one where I decided to be a sceptical bean and got merked 1/5 of the way in.
So yeah... I get the idea of doll stuff now... Masks can be as cool as muzzles
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