Q&A With a Chance of Perversion

The space between realities shifted uncomfortably as they gathered. Not a physical location per se—rather a conceptual fold in the fabric of existence where beings of their stature could convene without collapsing nearby dimensions under the weight of their presence.

"Shall we call this meeting to order?" spoke a figure whose form seemed to constantly shift between that of an elegantly dressed Victorian gentleman and something far less comprehensible. His monocle remained constant throughout each transformation, gleaming with light from stars that had died eons ago.

Around what might charitably be called a "table" (though it had far too many angles and occasionally phased through itself) sat or hovered or existed the assembled members of what they had taken to calling the "Men of Culture"—despite several members presenting as female or something far beyond such limited concepts of gender.

"Indeed," replied a being whose body was composed entirely of what appeared to be ancient tome pages, words constantly rearranging themselves across their surface. "It has been approximately seventeen cosmic cycles since our last gathering. I believe we have much to discuss."

A soft chuckle emanated from a figure shrouded in shadow, collecting artifacts from across the table with tendrils of darkness—a teacup, a peculiar device resembling a monocle, a small statue that appeared to be simultaneously weeping and laughing. "Always so formal," the figure said, its voice somehow managing to sound both soothing and deeply unsettling at once.

"Formality has its place," responded another, who appeared as a woman in an immaculate business suit that seemed to contain entire galaxies in its fabric. "Especially when discussing matters of such... delicate nature."

The air (or what passed for it in this non-place) grew heavy with anticipation. None dared speak the name of what truly bound them together—the Primordial Sin that had elevated each from their once-mortal existence. To name It was to invite Its attention, and even beings of their near-limitless power knew better than to disturb That Which Watches From Between.

"I believe," said a member whose appearance constantly cycled through various artifacts from throughout existence, "that we have a proposal regarding our more devoted followers."

"Ah yes," replied the monocled figure, adjusting his impossible eyepiece. "The matter of rewarding the faithful and the... enthusiastically perverse."

They all smiled then—expressions that would have driven lesser beings to madness.

---

"The proposal is thus," began the being of constantly shifting artifacts, whose fellow members simply referred to as "The Collector." The Collector's voice echoed strangely, as if speaking simultaneously from multiple points in space-time. "We have observed throughout the multiverse that many of our devotees—both official and unwitting—possess a particular fascination with fictional constructs."

"Fictional to them," corrected the paper-composed entity known as "The Librarian," whose body rustled with each movement. "Though we know all stories exist somewhere across the infinitude of realities."

The Collector nodded, an action that seemed to happen several times at once from slightly different angles. "Precisely. These mortals develop intense attachments to these characters—physical, emotional, even spiritual."

"Quite delicious attachments," interjected a figure who appeared as a stunningly beautiful woman in a red gown, though her shadow revealed something with far too many limbs. "Their fantasies provide such exquisite sustenance."

"Indeed, my dear Matron," said a figure who manifested as an elderly gentleman with a cane, though his eyes contained swirling vortices of impossible colors. "The devotion they show to entities that they believe are merely fictitious is sometimes greater than that which they direct toward their own deities."

The Matron's laugh sounded like crystal breaking in slow motion. "As well it should be. The gods they worship are so... restrictive about the pleasures of existence."

"Unlike our benefactor," murmured a member whose features were constantly obscured by a strange fog, though pinpricks of light occasionally shone through like distant stars. The others grew momentarily silent at this near-reference to their patron Primordial.

The one they called "The Architect" cleared his throat—a sound like tectonic plates shifting. "Let us return to the proposition. The Collector suggests we create a forum of sorts, yes? A space where our devotees might interact with these characters they so adore?"

"A reward for their devotion to... principles we find favorable," added The Librarian, pages fluttering in what might have been amusement.

"Not merely interact," corrected The Collector, "but question. Behold. Experience." Each word seemed to carry weighted meaning beyond its surface. "I propose a grand Q&A session, where these mortals might pose their deepest inquiries—and indulge their most fervent desires—with the objects of their fascination."

"A cosmic talk show of perversion," mused The Architect, tapping his fingers against the impossible table. "How delightfully tawdry."

The being they referred to only as "The Witness" finally spoke, its voice resembling the hum of background radiation from the birth of universes. "The power expenditure would be minimal for beings of our stature. We could pluck these fictional entities from their respective realities—or create perfect simulacra if needed—and place them in a controlled environment."

"I do so enjoy watching mortals squirm with delight when their fantasies materialize before them," said The Matron, running impossibly long fingers through her hair, which momentarily resembled liquid darkness.

"There are considerations," cautioned The Librarian. "Some of these fictional entities possess considerable power within their own contexts. Gods, demons, cosmic entities..."

This elicited a round of laughter that caused several nearby potential realities to collapse into nothingness.

"Even the mightiest among them would be as ants to us," said The Architect dismissively. "Did you not witness how I rearranged the fundamental constants of that universe where the self-proclaimed 'Devourer of Worlds' resided? He became quite docile after I inverted his very nature."

"Nevertheless," The Librarian continued, "protocols should be established. Some characters might be... resistant to participation."

"Their consent is irrelevant," said The Collector with a wave of a hand that left tracers across multiple dimensions. "They exist for our amusement. Just as we once existed for the amusement of... higher beings." Again, that careful avoidance of direct reference.

"Still," interjected a previously silent member whose form resembled an elegant courtier from some forgotten renaissance, though with skin that occasionally revealed the void of space beneath, "perhaps we should establish guidelines to maximize enjoyment for our devotees. The Librarian raises a valid point—some characters might prove disruptive if not properly... conditioned."

"The Diplomat speaks wisely," agreed The Witness. "We should establish parameters."

---

The Diplomat leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath what might have been a chin. "First, we must consider which characters to summon. I suggest we select based on the intensity of devotion shown by our followers."

"An excellent metric," agreed The Matron. "The strength of their desire creates such exquisite patterns in the astral plane."

The Librarian's pages rustled in what appeared to be contemplation. "I have cataloged the most commonly fantasized-about entities across the multiverse. The list is... extensive."

"Naturally we'll need to create a suitable venue," said The Architect, eyes swirling with calculations. "Something impressive yet comfortable for the mortals, while functional for our purposes."

"I've been collecting designs from various realities," offered The Collector. "Perhaps something resembling an amphitheater, with private booths for more... intimate interactions."

"Speaking of which," interjected The Matron, "what level of interaction shall we permit between our devotees and these characters?"

This question hung in the non-air of their meeting place, heavy with implication.

"The full spectrum, I should think," said a previously silent member whose form resembled a beautiful androgynous being partially wrapped in living shadow. "From innocent conversation to... well, whatever depravities they mutually desire." The being's smile revealed teeth too sharp and numerous to exist in a human mouth.

"The Tempter speaks my mind," agreed The Matron with a predatory smile.

"We should maintain certain controls," cautioned The Witness. "Some mortal devotees might become... overwhelmed by the fulfillment of their deepest fantasies. Their minds are fragile."

"A reasonable concern," acknowledged The Diplomat. "Perhaps we implement a system that matches the intensity of interaction to the mental fortitude of the devotee?"

"I can assist with that assessment," offered a being who had remained silent until now, its form constantly shifting through different psychiatric professionals from across time and space. "My analysis of mortal psyches is quite thorough."

"Thank you, Analyst," nodded The Diplomat. "Your expertise will be invaluable."

The Collector tapped the table with elongated fingers. "We should also consider the implementation of memory alterations. Allow the devotees to remember their experiences, but perhaps modify the memories in ways that prevent them from going mad—or worse, attempting to explain what they experienced to others."

"An elegant solution," agreed The Librarian. "They retain the pleasure without the burden of incomprehensible truth."

"What of the characters themselves?" inquired The Architect. "Some may resist participating in activities their original narratives would not suggest."

The Tempter laughed—a sound like silk sliding over bare skin. "That is easily addressed. We simply... adjust them. Not enough to change their essential nature—that would defeat the purpose—but enough to make them amenable to experiences they might otherwise reject."

"A touch of divine influence," agreed The Matron. "Just enough to loosen their inhibitions without breaking character."

"I can prepare appropriate adjustments for each summoned entity," offered The Analyst. "Tailored to their psychological profiles."

"And what of the setting for this grand entertainment?" asked The Witness. "Where shall our stage be set?"

The Architect's eyes gleamed with creative energy. "I propose a pocket dimension, one that can reshape itself according to the needs of each interaction. A space that exists between realities, accessible only through our power."

"With comfortable accommodations for our devotees," added The Diplomat. "Remember, we wish to reward them, not terrify them... at least not excessively."

"The terror can be part of the pleasure for some," noted The Tempter with a knowing smile.

"Indeed," acknowledged The Diplomat. "But measured according to individual taste."

"So we are agreed then?" asked The Collector, looking around the impossible table. "We shall create this Q&A session—this interactive experience—for those mortals who have proven their dedication to our... aesthetic principles?"

One by one, the assembled cosmic entities signified their assent, some with nods, others with gestures that defied description in any mortal language.

"Excellent," said The Collector. "Then let us determine the practical details."

---

"For the selection of participants," began The Librarian, pages flickering with data from countless realities, "I propose we identify mortals who have demonstrated consistent devotion to principles that align with our patron's nature." Again, that careful avoidance of direct reference.

"Those who celebrate desire without shame," agreed The Matron. "Who embrace the full spectrum of pleasures without the burden of conventional morality."

"Not just the overtly deviant," added The Diplomat, "but those who nurture rich inner worlds of fantasy—the quiet ones whose imaginations burn all the brighter for being unexpressed."

The Analyst nodded. "I have identified several psychological profiles that correlate strongly with both devotion to our principles and psychological resilience to extraordinary experiences."

"What of the mechanics?" inquired The Architect, already sketching impossible geometries in the air with a finger that occasionally divided into multiple appendages. "How shall they access this experience?"

"Dreams would be the simplest method," suggested The Witness. "We can reach them during their sleep cycle, when the boundaries of their consciousness are most permeable."

The Tempter shook their head, shadow-tendrils writhing with the motion. "Too ephemeral. Dreams fade upon waking, regardless of what memory modifications we implement. I suggest something more... tangible."

"Perhaps a hybrid approach," offered The Collector. "We create physical tokens—objects that serve as keys to our pocket dimension. When activated, the devotee's consciousness transfers to our realm while their physical form remains in stasis."

"Like the ancient practice of astral projection," mused The Librarian, "but guided and controlled through our power."

"I could design such tokens," said The Architect. "Objects that appear mundane but contain dimensional folding properties. Perhaps customized to each recipient's aesthetic preferences."

"And for distribution?" asked The Witness.

The Matron smiled. "We have our ways. Our influence extends through countless cults, secret societies, and individuals who serve our interests—knowingly or otherwise. They can identify worthy candidates and ensure the tokens reach them."

"We should establish clear parameters for the experience itself," said The Diplomat. "Duration, frequency of use, potential side effects..."

"The duration should vary according to subjective experience," suggested The Analyst. "What might feel like hours or days in our realm would translate to mere minutes in their reality—minimizing disruption to their mundane lives while maximizing their enjoyment."

"As for side effects," added The Witness, "we should monitor for psychological strain. Some may find the intensity of fulfilled fantasy more overwhelming than anticipated."

"A simple failsafe then," nodded The Collector. "If a participant shows signs of psychological distress beyond their capacity to process pleasurably, they are automatically returned to their physical form with memories appropriately modified."

"And the characters themselves?" prompted The Librarian. "How shall we select and prepare them?"

"I've compiled a preliminary list of the most frequently fantasized-about entities across multiple realities," said The Collector, producing a scroll that unfolded in impossible directions. "From deities to demons, heroes to villains, and everything between."

"We'll need to create accurate simulacra," said The Architect. "Perfect in every detail—physically, psychologically, even energetically for those with supernatural aspects."

"Or we could simply pluck the actual entities from their realities," suggested The Tempter with a predatory smile. "Many already exist somewhere in the multiverse, even if only as manifestations of collective belief."

"A combination of approaches would be most efficient," offered The Witness. "Actual entities where available, perfect simulacra where necessary."

"And their preparation?" asked The Diplomat.

"A subtle influence," said The Analyst. "Nothing so crude as mind control—that would defeat the purpose. Rather, a slight adjustment to their inhibitions and boundaries, customized to each entity's nature. Enough to make them receptive without fundamentally changing who they are."

"The devotees would notice if their beloved characters were acting out of character," agreed The Librarian. "The appeal lies in authenticité experience."

"With some enhancements," added The Matron with a sultry laugh. "After all, we are in the business of fantasy fulfillment."

"Speaking of which," said The Collector, "what of the physical venue? The Architect mentioned an amphitheater design..."

The Architect's eyes swirled with impossible geometries as he projected a three-dimensional (or perhaps more accurately, multi-dimensional) model into the center of the table. "I envision a central stage area where the initial questioning can take place—visible to all participants. Surrounding this, private chambers that can reconfigure themselves according to the specific fantasy being enacted."

"The aesthetics should be impressive yet comforting," added The Diplomat. "Overwhelming enough to remind participants they've entered a realm beyond their understanding, yet familiar enough to put them at ease."

"Luxurious without being tacky," agreed The Matron. "We are beings of culture, after all."

"And the moderation of these interactions?" asked The Witness. "Some structure will be necessary."

"I volunteer to serve as master of ceremonies," offered The Collector. "I can introduce each character and manage the transition from public questioning to private interaction."

"With assistance from The Analyst," added The Diplomat, "who can monitor the psychological state of both devotees and characters, ensuring optimal experience for all involved."

"And what of security?" inquired The Librarian. "Some characters may prove... resistant or potentially dangerous."

"A simple matter," dismissed The Architect. "The pocket dimension will operate according to rules we establish. No entity, regardless of their power in their native reality, can exceed parameters we set."

"Like gods playing with dolls," murmured The Tempter with evident satisfaction.

"More like artists creating an interactive masterpiece," corrected The Diplomat smoothly.

"Artists of perversion and desire," added The Matron with obvious approval.

"Then we are agreed on the framework," said The Collector. "Let us proceed to implementation."