Cognitive processes (Patreon)

— You know, it’s so ironic. I mean, how the entire construct of human consciousness affects our perception of our own body. In my—well, in the body I’ve ended up in due to random circumstances—all cognitive processes have to go through a different perspe... — Sara cut herself off abruptly, noticing Kyle’s gaze growing colder with each passing second.

— Listen, Sara, — Kyle smirked, leaning so close she could feel his breath. — Are you seriously saying this right now? "Construct of consciousness"? Oh, for God’s sake, this isn’t a Harvard lecture! Do you even realize how that sounds? You should act like… well, like yourself, babe, not some stuffy old professor.

Sara took a shaky breath, silently cursing her new body and this ridiculous “new self” that Kyle was so obviously taken with—a slim blonde with curls and a flimsy outfit. And here she was, formerly Harvard Professor Mark Trenton, who once lectured on cognitive psychology and loved philosophy of mind, now forced by Alt Shift to speak as if stringing two words together was a challenge. It was absurd, but there was no choice—refusing to follow the Department’s “recommendations” would mean a one-way trip to a “reprogramming” camp, otherwise known as a “conversion” camp.

She tried to "fix it," mimicking how she imagined a girl her age would speak.

— Oh, like… you know, it’s just, like… um… so weird, right? — she forced out, blinking dumbly and pausing to achieve the “dumb blonde” effect her supervisor had taught her. — I’m just, like… I don’t know, kinda… cool and wow…

Kyle smirked, his hand suddenly shifting to her thigh, giving it a squeeze that made Sara tense internally. He squinted, clearly amused by her ridiculous attempts to sound “girly.” Watching her bewildered, slightly dazed look, he suddenly leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against her lips, carrying a faint hint of mint gum.

— You know, baby, I like it when you try, — he whispered, touching her cheek and then pulling her close until not even a millimeter separated them. His hand slid up her waist, holding her tighter, and then shot up to her chest, as if to remind her who was in control here.

Sara clenched her fists, hiding her hands behind her back, struggling to suppress the pulsing wave of revulsion. Kyle’s lips pressed against hers with such insistence that she had trouble breathing, his tongue invading her mouth, relishing her helplessness.

When the kiss ended, she forced herself to smile and giggle, as though she actually enjoyed it.

— Oh, you’re so, like… kinda amazing, — Sara forced out, barely keeping that syrupy smile on her face. She felt a surge of anger as her phone gave a reminder tone. She didn’t even have to check to know it was for another lewd selfie she was supposed to post.

— Reminders? Seriously? That’s, like, way too nerdy for you, don’t you think? — Kyle raised an eyebrow, lifting the corner of his mouth in a mocking smirk.

Sara winced but quickly masked her irritation, switching her expression to something that, in her opinion, looked like “cute surprise.”

— Oh, like… yeah, it’s kinda lame that I even, um… like, have those things! — She laughed loudly, feeling humiliated. — Just, you know, so I… kinda… don’t forget stuff or whatever. It’s, like, funny, hehe!

Kyle raised an eyebrow, still smirking skeptically as Sara glanced back at the app interface, obviously fumbling again with what to do next.

— Oh, come on, give it here, — Kyle grabbed the phone from her, opened the camera, and looked at her, grinning with such overt mockery that Sara felt a deep shame clench her insides. Here she was, Professor Mark Trenton, who’d dedicated his life to studying the brain, philosophy, and cognitive processes, now forced to stand here, playing the role of a ditsy girl, posing for “Insta” under the watchful eye of her “boyfriend.”

— Now, take a picture of your tits and post something like, “Mmm... off on a trip with my awesome boyfriend, love trains and sunny days, hehe,” — Kyle said mockingly, handing her the phone with an expression like he was instructing an obedient student. — And not a word about those stupid "cognitive processes" of yours, — his face grew more serious, — you’re my silly little Sara, so just giggle; you’re good at that, I can tell.

Sara forced out a strained smile, even though she wanted to throw the phone as far as possible. She weakly giggled, took the phone in her small hands, and aimed it at herself, trying to get the “right” angle of her chest. A tight white top with a deep neckline and striped pants. She took a nervous breath, feeling her chest slightly tremble from the train’s vibrations, and snapped a few photos.

Barely done, she started typing the text, hesitating after each word—the long nails were really in the way, and she still wasn’t used to them.

“Mmm... love these cozy trips! 🌞🚆 Everything feels so sweet with my love, hehe 💋💕 Looking forward to sweet moments 🥰✨!”

Sara barely kept herself from rolling her eyes as she looked at the result, feeling on the edge. But just as she was about to hit “Post,” Kyle’s face appeared over her shoulder, peering at her work.

— Baby, what’s that text? — he grinned, barely hiding the sarcasm as he noted her attempt. — Sounds like some old granny nonsense. Rephrase it, and put in more excitement! You’re a girl; you should giggle with happiness.

Sara, gritting her teeth, stared at the screen again. She didn’t know what was worse—trying to please Kyle, who was never satisfied with what she did anyway, or the humiliating process of this “transformation” from professor to “cutie.” Taking a deep breath, she tried again, her face fixed in a forced smile.

“Yay! Love traveling with my sunshine! 💖🚆 Everything’s so awesome, just like our day! Love every moment, such a cool vibe! Hehe, love hugs and sweet kisses!”

The moment she finished typing, Kyle leaned in again, his chest nearly pressing against her shoulder. He skimmed the text, skeptically raised an eyebrow, then faked a pleased expression.

— Oh, well, that’s at least getting somewhere! — His hand slid down her back, pulling her so close she felt like a tiny doll in his grip. — See, Sara, when you want to, you can. I don’t get why you make everything so complicated.

Sara clenched her teeth slightly, taking a deep breath, forcing herself to suppress the urge to argue as she felt her cheeks flush with frustration. She swallowed, covering her irritation with a bright smile, and trying to sound as carefree as possible, replied:

— Well, like… yeah… I’m not some… cogniti… cognitive, — she cut herself off abruptly, quickly making a silly face and sticking out her tongue to look goofy. She stole a quick glance at Kyle, checking his reaction as her cheeks still burned from embarrassment.

He laughed, and Sara knew that in his laughter there was more satisfaction from another small victory than any real joy. He enjoyed seeing her like this—humbled and compliant.