#intelligence play

The horror of noticing you can’t talk like you used to

You try to make a complex point, you feel the thought forming, but your tongue feels thick in your mouth

the words come out slow and simple

soon you forget the complex thoughts altogether

Big words don’t make any sense

It’s hard to say anything more than two syllables

You sound…dumb. And you know you do

You see the pity in people’s eyes

They talk down to you

Slowly

Simply

Like a child

Then one day you try to read a book you once loved

The sentences swim

The concepts are alien

You have to read a paragraph three, four, five times

And then you just

Stop

You close the book

The desire is gone

The ability is gone

Soon even things like text messages are hard to read

then comes numbers

math

logic

they just stop making sense

your friends like teasing you about it

“come on, what’s 8+4?” “what’s 3x5?”

you know the answers

of course you do

but the numbers are just shapes now

no meaning

you guess

“ten?” “sixteen?”

and everyone laughs

not a mean laugh

but worse

a fond, pitying laugh

that’s when you realize

this is permanent

this is you now

simpler

Oh neat, I looked it up to see a plot summary only to recognize a cover and realize I actually had that book on my shelf behind me. So I just reread it (it's very short) and yeah I can see how that would really awaken something in you if you were super into intelligence play. I'm not really, but I do like the idea of dumbing down your smart asshole sister.

His parents are huge assholes in it too, he's literally going up to them like, "hey I messed with the chemistry set even though you told me not to and I think I made something really dangerous" and they just scold him before taking his sister out to dinner.

But but I wanna be made very, very sharp. Malleable, yes, but brilliant, useful. A knife to be weilded with incredible precision by a skilled programmer. The heaviest crowbar you've ever hit something with.

Make me know what I'm doing when I get on my knees and suck off the first person who offers. Make me a tool you can use to get what you want. Make me an active player in my own deconstruction. Make me able to understand what you want, anticipate it, be two steps ahead of you.

Make me your brilliant maidbot. Make me your genius fucktoy. Make me a perfectly capable partner in my reprogramming. Make me know what I'm doing the whole way, and make it my will that I do your bidding.

Perfection is more a moulding than shattering. Make me perfect.