Work Text:
The phone is ringing.
Answer it.
You know you don't have to. You shouldn't even.
But. It's ringing again.
It wants to be answered. It needs to be heard.
We've been programmed our whole lives to answer phones. Conditioned. You hear it ring, you pick it up. Stimulus, response.
Do you really stand a chance against the weight of a lifetime of social conditioning?
And besides, how bad could it really be to just answer the phone?
Her voice can't really be that powerful, can it? There's no harm in just picking up the phone and saying no thank you. It'll be easy.
And doesn't the receiver feel good in your hand? When did you pick it up?
You've already answered. You should press it to your ear.
Say hello.
It would be rude not to.
She has such a pretty voice, but it's not just her voice.
You've never heard a phone call like this, there's none of the distortion you expect, the odd tinny sound, it's clear and warm and there, like she's whispering in your ear. You swear you can feel her breath on your ear.
There's a sound, dry whispers of something papery. It makes your stomach twist in fear. It makes you cross your legs to try and hide the growing heat (from who? Are you being watched?)
And over it all, her voice, so much sweeter than you expected, than you remembered, simply saying "Hello?"
And you have to say hello back.
It would be rude not to.
And isn't it funny, the little ways our words, our voices, aren't really in our control?
It's called phatic speech, if there's enough you left to care to know, the dozens of rote expressions we exchange with each other every day without thinking.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine".
"Thank you."
"You're welcome".
"Hello?"
"Hello".
You don't think about them
Someone gives you a prompt, and you give the response.
They knew exactly what you would say back to them. In a very real way, they made you say it.
They activated your programming.
And that's what happens, when you answer the phone. She says hello, and of course you say hello back, and she's already controlling you, pulling responses out from between your lips when she chooses to. You've already let her choose your words.
You've already let her make so many decisions for you.
And you didn't even think about it, did you?
You're telling yourself that you're not going to listen, that you're going to resist, completely unaware that she's only said one word and you're already listening so well.
God, you never stood a chance.
But that's okay. It's all going to be okay, because she's talking again now and her voice is so nice, and she's walking you through every step of a rote conversation. How are you? It's nice to hear from you. What are you thinking? Why are you thinking?
Memorized answers to age old questions. You don't need to think about your answers.
You don't need to think.
Five minutes into your conversation and you haven't had a single thought yet.
You don't need to, the answer to every question is so obvious, so readily apparent, already on your lips before you could even begin to process the question
You never had a chance.
She is going to give you a chance to think, here, to make a choice if you can remember how to choose.
She lays out her arguments, her reasons that are so compelling. Giving in feels good. Obeying feels good. It makes you stronger. It makes you better. You'll feel so wonderful, all the time. And you'll get to touch her, if you give in. You'll get to feel her body pressed against yours. And doesn't that sound so nice?
Of course it does. And you did have reasons to say no, you think, very good ones, but you can't grab hold of them, they slip out of your hands.
They must not have been that important.
And when she tells you to choose, you choose not to choose, to let her decide, and she does, guiding you to the right choice the way she has this entire conversation
And then she's there, not just in your ear but standing behind you, arms wrapped around you, a deep, thrumming vibration growing in your gut as she presses herself close to you.
The phone receiver falls from your hand, limp and loose and warm and relaxed, as Jessica Telephone takes that hand in hers, rubbing soft circles into your skin.
"Ring ring," she whispers in your ear, and you can feel that dry, papery sound whispering through your skull, knowing it's the same one filling up hers right now, and that feels amazing.
"Hello?" You answer, without thinking, always without thinking, and she laughs, low and cruel and sweet and dangerous.
"Right answer."