Demotivation.

Ada suppressed a grimace when she walked into Chris's home. It smelled like old takeout and had the general ambiance of a dorm room, with shoddy furniture and very little by way of decorations.

Chris hung his coat rack and gestured to the couch. "Why don't you have a seat. How do you want to do this?"

Ada immediately sat on the couch and smoothed out her skirt. "I don't think it's complicated," she said. "I think you just tell me that you want what we discussed."

"Really?" Chris was surprised. "No legalese or anything?"

She shook her head. "Remember, this is all happening inside my mind, and I already know what we discussed. I'll forget everything I know about what you want and I'll be unable to infer anything; only direct statements will register. Do you wanna do it now?"

Chris nodded and something very strange happened. Ada's head fell backwards and her eyes went unfocused, because why should she move her head or focus her eyes? Her thoughts drifted lazily across her mind, which had gone still and glassy as a frozen lake.

Chris watched the light leave her eyes as her body went limp and fell backwards onto the couch. It was uncanny to see those bright, perceptive orbs instantly cloud over but remain open. He approached her and stood several feet away, silently observing. Ada was beautiful, of course, but he'd only stolen glances when he thought (usually erroneously) that she wouldn't notice. Now that she was laid out in front of him, his eyes drank in her form. She was slender and graceful, even in this state; her lily-white skin stretched across modest but compelling curves and well-toned muscle. With round cheekbones and full lips, her face gave a somehow hedonistic impression that stayed even when it was slackened by his commands.

He waved a hand in front of her, but got no response. He took her head in his hands and cradled it gently, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. Her muscles were slack and her skin was soft, and he wondered if it felt good.

"Ada?" he asked softly.

"Yes?" she replied in a monotone, startling him into dropping her head back onto the couch. The only part of her that moved was her mouth; her frame remained limp and even her eyes stayed cloudy and absent.

"Do you want to go back to normal now?" he asked.

"Yes," she said again, so he commanded it. Instantly she sucked in air and sat up, a strangely manic look on her face. "Holy shit," she said softly. "I've never experienced anything like that!"

"How was it?" Chris asked. "Did you feel paralyzed?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. I could have moved any time I wanted to. I just didn't want... well, anything. I literally had no drive or desire in my mind. It felt like a dream or something."

"Because you've always had volition until now, even when it's purely on my behalf..." Chris mused. "That's really fascinating."

She smiled. "I agree. I probably wouldn't have an hour ago, but I do now."

Chris winced. "Why are you smiling? That's disturbing."

Her smile disappeared and she took on a more serious tone. "I'm sorry, I'll treat this more seriously going forward."

"That wasn't a command," he corrected. "I didn't mean to tell you how to behave. You can talk about it the way you want."

"There is no way I want," she said without inflection. "I see that now. It feels like I want things, but that's only because I've always wanted things. You want things and I take on your desires."

"Well, I don't want you to stop smiling every time I ask about it. Please, just go back to how you were before."

She perked up immediately and stood. Unbuttoning two buttons on her shirt, she approached him with an eager glint in her eye. "I want what you want, Chris, and I know something else you've wanted for a very long time..."