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This is just a preview; the full story will go live next month, but if that's simply too long to wait, head over to my Subscribestar to read it, and other stories like it, before everyone else~!

-----

Posted using PostyBirb", "writing": "Private Screening\n\nBy Limewah\n\nSubscriber Reward for Izzy (Feb 2024)\n\n18+\n\nSNEAK PEEK\n\nThe Cinewhorl was like a colourful zit on the otherwise clean face of the Financial district - the last stubborn holdout that wasn't made entirely of glass, concrete and steel. \n\nWhoever was refusing to budge on the plot of land being sold, was equally obstinate about giving the place even the slightest lick of paint. The sun-bleached red and gold paint was flaking off like old reptile skin, and even the big black pinwheels that served as the centrepiece of the marquee looked like they could tumble off at any moment. The building looked like it ought to have been condemned.\n\nBut, somehow, it was still open for business. \n\nWho was going to a place like this, a weird boutique cinema that was known for showing mind-altering films and causing intense psychedelic experiences? One that you couldn't even get into without going through a full-on treasure hunt?\n\nMostly people seeking legal highs, the odd curious tourist, and, of course, hypnokinksters.\n\nThe grey rabbit's hands were jammed in the pockets of their oversized hoodie. They had the hood up to shelter from the light drizzle, not to hide their shame. But it was still pretty obvious why they were lingering outside the old wooden doors of the ratty old cinema.\n\nIzzy wouldn't have wanted to label themself as a kinkster necessarily, but... well, it was probably the box they'd fit in the most.\n\nAnyway, they were here because they heard it was a cool experience. Sort of an escape room, ARG vibe to it. They had gone through a lot of rigamarole just to get to this point. You couldn't even enter the place when you bought a ticket. The hoops Izzy had to jump through to get this thing - they had to solve some weird little puzzle on the Cinewhorl website before they could buy their ticket, then going to print out a barcode at a shop, then scanning that code at some grotty little ticket machine on the other side of town, and NOW they were here.\n\nThe paper was tissue thin and the colour of tea-stained parchment. The only thing on it was a number - 8.screen number... they assumed. Izzy knew nothing about what was waiting for them inside. It'd been impossible to find out more.\n\nIzzy swallowed the self consciousness and made their way to the door. In place of what would have been the door handle of the old wooden double-doors was small black plastic tumour, the only modern concession Izzy could see. They waved their ticket in front of the lock, and it buzzed harshly. Izzy let their hood down and let their electric blue hair tumble out as they scurried inside.\n\nThe door clicked shut behind them and they took a moment to take in the deafening quiet of the place. There wasn't any dust hanging in the air, and it was relatively clean - just a few letter grades above `condemned'.\n\nIzzy looked up and down the lobby. It reminded them of a hallway in a hotel - not much decoration, just a splitting corridor with various large doors leading in various directions; only some painted signs on each door denoting the room number in a curvy exaggerated spiralling font. \n\nThere wasn't any sign of a ticket booth, or even a ticket taker.\n\nThis place felt haunted. But that was just part of the experience, wasn't it?\n\n``Hello?'' They called out, looking at their ticket for a moment before they gave up on waiting for an answer.\n\n``Number 8, number 8,'' they muttered to themself as they sauntered down the hallway, seeking out their number.\n\nNow that they were walking by each of these doors, Izzy also could notice that none of them had handles; not even a keyhole. \n\n``How do they open...'' they looked at the ceiling, squinting for any tell-tale security cameras. If there were any, they were definitely very well hidden.\n\nNumber 8's door wasn't any different from the others, aside from the plinth that was placed just to the side of it, like an old conductor's lectern.\n\nA jet black feather quill rested inside a beautiful little glass inkwell. It contrasted quite sharply with the waiver draped on the plinth; cheap white paper with bog-standard typewritten text. A bit modern for Izzy's taste. Especially considering the very clinical legal language on it.\n\nIt was everything one would expect from a non-disclosure agreement, mixed with a waiver : they weren't allowed to tell anyone about the experience, they couldn't hold the Cinewhorl responsible for any dissociative experiences, injury, embarrassment, yada yada yada, the basic ass-covering stuff that surely wouldn't matter at all. \n\nThey didn't need to read it all. \n\nWriting with a quill pen was kind of awkward, though.\n\nAs soon as they managed to scrawl a very messy, blotchy signature onto the page, Door 8 buzzed and swung open, making Izzy practically leap out of their hoodie with a yelp of shock. Once again, they tried to spot any sort of sight of life, or any sense that they were being watched.... Nothing.\n\nThe room through the door was well lit enough for the rabbit to see inside from where they were.\n\nIt looked like the sort of private movie theatre some rich person might have in their basement. Just a row of five big soft burgundy chairs in front of a massive screen.\n\nIt looked grotty, and looked like it ought to have smelled, like how Izzy imagined a typical `adult' theatre might. But its scent was decidedly more mellow, like potpourri. \n\n``Huh. Cosier than I thought it'd be...'' Izzy mused, before stepping inside.\n\nThey half expected the door to slam shut behind them again, but the bang never came. However, something was triggered by Izzy's entrance. The lights dimmed halfway, and a beam of projected light came from a nook at the opposite end to the screen, projecting a warm, flickering rectangle on the wall. A soothing clickclickclick filled the otherwise quiet room. \n\n``Welcome to your private screening, Izzy. Please take your seat. Your show is about to begin.''\n\n''Ooh!''\n\nThe voice had the affect of some old black-and-white film from more than a half century ago. It sounded pre-recorded, but the fact that they'd gone through the modicum of effort to record a personal greeting felt... kinda nice. Izzy grinned and went to the centre seat, plopping down into it with an excited little grunt.\n\nBeep.\n\nThe number 10 flashed on the screen, A long line like a clock hand revolved clockwise, quickly turning the screen from white to black. \n\nBeep.\n\nThe same again, but with the number 9.\n\nBeep.\n\nThen 8.\n\nBeep.\n\nAs the countdown continued, Izzy caught themself digging their paws into the armrests. They were...excited? Nervous? Not sure. Perhaps both. The sort of giddy anticipation they might feel just as a rollercoaster is about to dip...\n\nThree.\n\nBeep.\n\nTwo.\n\nBeep.\n\nOne.\n\nBeep.\n\nIzzy expected a moment or two of darkness before the show started, or some kind of lead-in\n\nThe sudden explosion of spiralling shapes hit Izzy's mind like a shotgun blast. Their whole body quivered and went rag-doll limp, as their eyes went wide and glassy almost instantaneously. The patterns continued their dance. Izzy stared blankly. All their thoughts were gone. They knew the thoughts were gone, they barely could remember what thoughts even were. The overwhelming flashbang of hypnotic colour turned their brain to ether.\n\nAnd then, the spirals were gone. Replaced with darkness again. It took a few seconds for Izzy's mind to reboot, their eyes to refocus, and their slumped posture to stiffen again.\n\n''Welcome to your show, Izzy.'' The voice said again. ``How deep did you go with that taste? We hope it wasn't too disorientating. Let's start again, a little slower this time. Look at the middle of the screen.''\n\n''Okay....'' Izzy mumbled, as if the voice was going to talk back. Was someone in the room? Their brain was still scrambly, but in a good, dizzy way. The roller coaster metaphor came back to their mind - it was the only concept they could really remember since they sat down and got blasted with the spirals.\n\nThey looked at the middle of the screen, and waited.\n\nTo read the rest early, Subscribe!\n\n HYPERLINK \"http://Www.subscribestar.adult/limewah\" www.subscribestar.adult/limewah \n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Private Screening

By Limewah

Subscriber Reward for Izzy (Feb 2024)

18+

SNEAK PEEK

The Cinewhorl was like a colourful zit on the otherwise clean face of the Financial district - the last stubborn holdout that wasn't made entirely of glass, concrete and steel.

Whoever was refusing to budge on the plot of land being sold, was equally obstinate about giving the place even the slightest lick of paint. The sun-bleached red and gold paint was flaking off like old reptile skin, and even the big black pinwheels that served as the centrepiece of the marquee looked like they could tumble off at any moment. The building looked like it ought to have been condemned.

But, somehow, it was still open for business.

Who was going to a place like this, a weird boutique cinema that was known for showing mind-altering films and causing intense psychedelic experiences? One that you couldn't even get into without going through a full-on treasure hunt?

Mostly people seeking legal highs, the odd curious tourist, and, of course, hypnokinksters.

The grey rabbit's hands were jammed in the pockets of their oversized hoodie. They had the hood up to shelter from the light drizzle, not to hide their shame. But it was still pretty obvious why they were lingering outside the old wooden doors of the ratty old cinema.

Izzy wouldn't have wanted to label themself as a kinkster necessarily, but... well, it was probably the box they'd fit in the most.

Anyway, they were here because they heard it was a cool experience. Sort of an escape room, ARG vibe to it. They had gone through a lot of rigamarole just to get to this point. You couldn't even enter the place when you bought a ticket. The hoops Izzy had to jump through to get this thing - they had to solve some weird little puzzle on the Cinewhorl website before they could buy their ticket, then going to print out a barcode at a shop, then scanning that code at some grotty little ticket machine on the other side of town, and NOW they were here.

The paper was tissue thin and the colour of tea-stained parchment. The only thing on it was a number - 8.screen number... they assumed. Izzy knew nothing about what was waiting for them inside. It'd been impossible to find out more.

Izzy swallowed the self consciousness and made their way to the door. In place of what would have been the door handle of the old wooden double-doors was small black plastic tumour, the only modern concession Izzy could see. They waved their ticket in front of the lock, and it buzzed harshly. Izzy let their hood down and let their electric blue hair tumble out as they scurried inside.

The door clicked shut behind them and they took a moment to take in the deafening quiet of the place. There wasn't any dust hanging in the air, and it was relatively clean - just a few letter grades above `condemned'.

Izzy looked up and down the lobby. It reminded them of a hallway in a hotel - not much decoration, just a splitting corridor with various large doors leading in various directions; only some painted signs on each door denoting the room number in a curvy exaggerated spiralling font.

There wasn't any sign of a ticket booth, or even a ticket taker.

This place felt haunted. But that was just part of the experience, wasn't it?

``Hello?''  They called out, looking at their ticket for a moment before they gave up on waiting for an answer.

``Number 8, number 8,'' they muttered to themself as they sauntered down the hallway, seeking out their number.

Now that they were walking by each of these doors, Izzy also could notice that none of them had handles; not even a keyhole.

``How do they open...'' they looked at the ceiling, squinting for any tell-tale security cameras. If there were any, they were definitely very well hidden.

Number 8's door wasn't any different from the others, aside from the plinth that was placed just to the side of it, like an old conductor's lectern.

A jet black feather quill rested inside a beautiful little glass inkwell. It contrasted quite sharply with the waiver draped on the plinth; cheap white paper with bog-standard typewritten text. A bit modern for Izzy's taste. Especially considering the very clinical legal language on it.

It was everything one would expect from a non-disclosure agreement, mixed with a waiver : they weren't allowed to tell anyone about the experience, they couldn't hold the Cinewhorl responsible for any dissociative experiences, injury, embarrassment, yada yada yada, the basic ass-covering stuff that surely wouldn't matter at all.

They didn't need to read it all.

Writing with a quill pen was kind of awkward, though.

As soon as they managed to scrawl a very messy, blotchy signature onto the page, Door 8 buzzed and swung open, making Izzy practically leap out of their hoodie with a yelp of shock. Once again, they tried to spot any sort of sight of life, or any sense that they were being watched.... Nothing.

The room through the door was well lit enough for the rabbit to see inside from where they were.

It looked like the sort of private movie theatre some rich person might have in their basement. Just a row of five big soft burgundy chairs in front of a massive screen.

It looked grotty, and looked like it ought to have smelled, like how Izzy imagined a typical `adult' theatre might. But its scent was decidedly more mellow, like potpourri.

``Huh. Cosier than I thought it'd be...'' Izzy mused, before stepping inside.

They half expected the door to slam shut behind them again, but the bang never came. However, something was triggered by Izzy's entrance. The lights dimmed halfway, and a beam of projected light came from a nook at the opposite end to the screen, projecting a warm, flickering rectangle on the wall. A soothing clickclickclick filled the otherwise quiet room.

``Welcome to your private screening, Izzy. Please take your seat. Your show is about to begin.''

''Ooh!''

The voice had the affect of some old black-and-white film from more than a half century ago. It sounded pre-recorded, but the fact that they'd gone through the modicum of effort to record a personal greeting felt... kinda nice. Izzy grinned and went to the centre seat, plopping down into it with an excited little grunt.

Beep.

The number 10 flashed on the screen, A long line like a clock hand revolved clockwise, quickly turning the screen from white to black.

Beep.

The same again, but with the number 9.

Beep.

Then 8.

Beep.

As the countdown continued, Izzy caught themself digging their paws into the armrests. They were...excited? Nervous? Not sure. Perhaps both. The sort of giddy anticipation they might feel just as a rollercoaster is about to dip...

Three.

Beep.

Two.

Beep.

One.

Beep.

Izzy expected a moment or two of darkness before the show started, or some kind of lead-in

The sudden explosion of spiralling shapes hit Izzy's mind like a shotgun blast. Their whole body quivered and went rag-doll limp, as their eyes went wide and glassy almost instantaneously. The patterns continued their dance. Izzy stared blankly. All their thoughts were gone. They knew the thoughts were gone, they barely could remember what thoughts even were. The overwhelming flashbang of hypnotic colour turned their brain to ether.

And then, the spirals were gone. Replaced with darkness again. It took a few seconds for Izzy's mind to reboot, their eyes to refocus, and their slumped posture to stiffen again.

''Welcome to your show, Izzy.'' The voice said again. ``How deep did you go with that taste? We hope it wasn't too disorientating. Let's start again, a little slower this time. Look at the middle of the screen.''

''Okay....'' Izzy mumbled, as if the voice was going to talk back. Was someone in the room? Their brain was still scrambly, but in a good, dizzy way. The roller coaster metaphor came back to their mind - it was the only concept they could really remember since they sat down and got blasted with the spirals.

They looked at the middle of the screen, and waited.

To read the rest early, Subscribe!

  HYPERLINK "http://Www.subscribestar.adult/limewah"; www.subscribestar.adult/limewah  

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