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Infinity Smashed: Untitled ASMR Thing
Jun. 17th, 2020 11:00 pmUntitled ASMR Thing
Series: Infinity Smashed
Summary: Bob has done weirder.
Word Count: 500
Notes: This was originally going to be part of a big sketch dump, but this one had a short plotless bit of writing with it so gets separated out. Takes place after Bob and Grey have gotten together, obviously.
“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I said. “You watch a dead PBS guy paint happy little trees not because you have any interest in painting, not even because you think he’s hot, but because his voice gives you ‘tingles.’”
“Yes.”
“And it’s not a sexual thing.”
“No.” Grey looked rueful. “Women’s voices work better.”
“Huh.” I stroked my mustache. “Does anything else do it, or is it just the sound?”
Her rueful look deepened. She took one of my hands and brushed it over her hair. “This too.”
“Huh,” I repeated. So, not a voice kink then, or at least not just. “Well, I’ve got to say, I’m impressed, that’s a new one on me. Does my voice…?”
Now she looked awkward. “Sometimes. When you’re angry.”
I cracked up laughing.
“When you think they’re dumb, you…” she made the undulating gesture she’d made when first explaining it to me.
“No, no, I know the voice you mean.” One of the kids at my first job called it my babysitter voice. “You poor woman, and I was doing it all the time, back when I thought you were stupid…”
She only looked more embarrassed. “Wasn’t enjoying it…”
“I know, I know, just… hoo, no wonder you trolled me so hard.” I took off my glasses and wiped my eyes. “Want to try and do it on purpose for fun?”
I’d done goofier things for kink than talking like I was on Valium and petting what remained of Grey’s hair. The hard part was coming up with a topic to blather on about interminably without interruption or feedback. She told me I could pick whatever I wanted, since it’d all flow over her anyway. The tone was what mattered. It was hard to believe, but I decided to take her at her word and set on explaining in my most stultifying voice all my opinions on the Button Mash franchise.
Must’ve looked boring as hell from the outside, and I felt like a babbling fool, but it made Specialist Grey, human tension cable, melt into spacey, happy goo. Within five minutes, she was slouching over the table. After ten, it was the only thing holding her up. It was the damnedest thing. If she hadn’t had such a beatific expression on her face, I would’ve thought she’d fallen asleep.
She made a noise that approximated, “okay,” and fell asleep./>
Eventually, even I had run out of things to say, and my voice was starting to feel the strain. I wound down and tapped her on the shoulder.
“You still with me, Grace?”
“Mm.” She sat up, stretched luxuriously. “Thank you.”
I’d always wondered how the hell Grey maintained a bedtime of 8 PM—before sunset, in the summer. Turned out whatever fringe hypnokink she had put him right out. Made her cuddlier too.
When I said so, Grey mumbled, “not hypno,” into my side.
I patted her and booted up my laptop. “You better hope it is, or it’ll be damn difficult to research. I want to map this; this is fascinating. Can’t believe you laid a new one on me.”
She made a noise that approximated, “okay,” and fell asleep.
Series: Infinity Smashed
Summary: Bob has done weirder.
Word Count: 500
Notes: This was originally going to be part of a big sketch dump, but this one had a short plotless bit of writing with it so gets separated out. Takes place after Bob and Grey have gotten together, obviously.
“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I said. “You watch a dead PBS guy paint happy little trees not because you have any interest in painting, not even because you think he’s hot, but because his voice gives you ‘tingles.’”
“Yes.”
“And it’s not a sexual thing.”
“No.” Grey looked rueful. “Women’s voices work better.”
“Huh.” I stroked my mustache. “Does anything else do it, or is it just the sound?”
Her rueful look deepened. She took one of my hands and brushed it over her hair. “This too.”
“Huh,” I repeated. So, not a voice kink then, or at least not just. “Well, I’ve got to say, I’m impressed, that’s a new one on me. Does my voice…?”
Now she looked awkward. “Sometimes. When you’re angry.”
I cracked up laughing.
“When you think they’re dumb, you…” she made the undulating gesture she’d made when first explaining it to me.
“No, no, I know the voice you mean.” One of the kids at my first job called it my babysitter voice. “You poor woman, and I was doing it all the time, back when I thought you were stupid…”
She only looked more embarrassed. “Wasn’t enjoying it…”
“I know, I know, just… hoo, no wonder you trolled me so hard.” I took off my glasses and wiped my eyes. “Want to try and do it on purpose for fun?”
I’d done goofier things for kink than talking like I was on Valium and petting what remained of Grey’s hair. The hard part was coming up with a topic to blather on about interminably without interruption or feedback. She told me I could pick whatever I wanted, since it’d all flow over her anyway. The tone was what mattered. It was hard to believe, but I decided to take her at her word and set on explaining in my most stultifying voice all my opinions on the Button Mash franchise.
Must’ve looked boring as hell from the outside, and I felt like a babbling fool, but it made Specialist Grey, human tension cable, melt into spacey, happy goo. Within five minutes, she was slouching over the table. After ten, it was the only thing holding her up. It was the damnedest thing. If she hadn’t had such a beatific expression on her face, I would’ve thought she’d fallen asleep.
She made a noise that approximated, “okay,” and fell asleep./>
Eventually, even I had run out of things to say, and my voice was starting to feel the strain. I wound down and tapped her on the shoulder.
“You still with me, Grace?”
“Mm.” She sat up, stretched luxuriously. “Thank you.”
I’d always wondered how the hell Grey maintained a bedtime of 8 PM—before sunset, in the summer. Turned out whatever fringe hypnokink she had put him right out. Made her cuddlier too.
When I said so, Grey mumbled, “not hypno,” into my side.
I patted her and booted up my laptop. “You better hope it is, or it’ll be damn difficult to research. I want to map this; this is fascinating. Can’t believe you laid a new one on me.”
She made a noise that approximated, “okay,” and fell asleep.
