"Darling," said Fingers disapprovingly. "You are so tense. Do you have any idea how bad that is for your complexion? Not to mention I am invested in you putting in an indecent performance tomorrow - what have you been doing to her, Titanomachia?"

"Structural repairs," said Machia.

"Structural repairs," mocked Fingers. "Ridiculous. You still don't know how to treat a girl properly. Watch. Closely."

The hands lifted off Fingers body. Over twenty of them, lifting up around her as her eyes gleamed with amythest light. Half of them landed on Madeleine's back, half of them soared over to Machia, grabbing her in a dozen places. In a swirl of motion they dragged Machia up and held her head close to Madeline's back.

"If a girl is visibly stressed and tense -" said Fingers. "In general, and especially if she's tied down to your table - you massage her. Like this."

The hands started to move. Ten sets of hands with uncanny synchronization, together working to deliver the most spine-melting massage possible. They worked muscles singly and together, focusing attention in specific places and then distributing it along every limb and crevasse. Just as the synthesizer opened the possibilities of piano music by breaking its dependence on the physical range of human fingers so Fingers' fingers open a new frontier in the possibilities of massage.

"Focus on these hands," Fingers was saying to Machia. "These are the ones you're going to learn from. You see how they apply pressure, this pattern? That's what you're going to need to learn."

"T-there are more efficient -"

"Efficient," scoffed Fingers. "Idiot. Two problems with that. One is that the Rope Champions scenario is back in rotation, and you're going to have to learn at least one move. Hmm, no, this isn't working. You've never been a visual learner."

She took Machia by the wrists and slid two robotic hands over her hands like gloves. Then they pulled her hands down and pressed them into Madeleine's back, forcing them to learn the sequence by pulling them through it. The flush on her cheeks was bright enough to trigger a photosynthetic response in her window plant.

"The other, of course, is that I am an active competitor," said Fingers. "And I am frankly getting sick of sand-blasting unprepared gutter trash. Miss Madeline?" Fingers leaned down. "I do not like the sound of you only talking to this dolt. You will get a skewed understanding of how people act if you are this socially isolated. I intend to claim some of your training days for the next three weeks. Do you," all her fingers squeezed at once. "agree?"

What is? Uh?

Auuuuuugghhh hands hands hand hands! they're in, nnnnfffff, mmmmmgguuuhhhhh fkakodkfjslh;fhslkfkiqehfn.

Mmn?

Ehehehehe.

Those ones feel different. Niiiiiiiiiice. Warm and soft. They're trembling, that's so cute. It's soooooooooooooooo shhzzzzzzzzrrrrrrrble. Mmgh. Ah, ah, ah, Ahhhhhh~

Madeleine sweats, and Madeleine melts into her salts and fluids. Madeleine twitches and Madeleine makes indecent noises that a proper lady ought not have inside of her, particularly in the company of other women though she can't remember right now why that part's important. It is like her tail stimulations but those don't feel half as mind meltingly nice as this.

...It's probably because none of these hands are hers, ehehehehehe! She can't tellLLLlL when they're going to touch her, apply pRessure, rub or stroke or circle or squeeze or, uuuuhhhhhh. Um? Well, it. Nnnnf. Yuhuh.

There's a voice. Asking her a question. Being very rude to her. As if she hadn't recently doubled the number of people she speaks to with any regularity. Her rational brain, still floating above her body, reaches for her neck and takes her reins. Madeleine flutters her eyes until the shadows become bubbles she can ride back up into the light of Titanomachia's room.

Her voice is silky smooth and powerful again.

"Autumn wolves," she replies, "Can't won't chorus. Chiron runs with fair ribbons through grand many stars."

And she flops back down again. Was that five seconds?

"Ti-tan-o-Machiaaaaa~" said Fingers. "What was that?"

"Those were... keywords," said Titanomachia.

"Hypnotic keywords, darling?" said Fingers. "Have you, perchance, hypnotized this poor innocent girl?"

"No! Sort of!" said Machia. "We're doing psychic resilience training - Taowu came out of the floor and - right over there! And she -"

"And this is your idea of resilient?" said Fingers.

"It's day three!" said Titanomachia.

"I could do better," sniffed Fingers. "I will do better. And you will do better too. Madeline, darling? I am going to be training you one day a week, and I am going to be training Titanomachia one day a week. You may sit in on those sessions if you wish."

"You're what?" said Titanomachia, every part of her freezing in shock except her mechanically assisted fingers.

"You are a competitor," said Fingers. "In my arena. You might have gotten used to a deadbeat trainer lifestyle on the lam from your fancy uptown matches, but as far as I'm concerned you're just another out-of-shape washout and I do not intend to let you embarass me. All chic, you two?"

"Mmmgh... ch-chic? She doesn't, nnnnnnnm, know what that word means."

So many hands. Those soft, slightly sweaty ones really are her favorite, though. Familiar but new and strong but nervous and delicate but controlled and right where she feels the worst but she wishes they would move lower to caress the spot around her tail and why is she thinking this what is this thought who is it for who is thinking it for her exactly please stop that she needs her brain for thinking now.

Her body is still melting, still sizzling, still decomposing into gelatin. Her mind is confused, she doesn't understand why nothing is stopping. If someone wasn't still calling her 'Madeline' it would be impossible to focus on anything at all. Sleep. She just wants to sleep. What is the fastest way to make this conversation stop?

"I'mmmmmmmmmm~" she sighs, "Teaching her. TitannnnnnnoMachia is... my project. And I don't, aaaaaahhhh, n-not those ones, don't... put those there, hhhf, hhhh, aaaaaa!"

Her teeth clench. Her fingers coil tight into Blanche's fur. Her tail swishes and hits somebody in the face; she turns her head but can't tell which one of them is there. It's too hard to see. But she pushes a breath out and forces her body to be solid for a moment. To be real.

"I need your arena. So I... mmnmn, will pay your price. But I'm... watching you. Don't you dare set me back. If I think you're interfering I'll-- aaa?! Ee-eeeep!"

Those hands she called her favorite are digging into her spine. There is something about their sharpness, this particular jab of pain that feels like coffee dripping on marker stains. She has no defense, not here like this.

"Yes, yes, ok ok ok! We'll do the thing, just... stop!"