Speaker 1: The moment we part ways, the air shifts colder, tighter,
Speaker 1: like the station's exhaling a warning. I'm led down a
Speaker 1: sterile corridor. Quade's fading footsteps echoing in my skull. My
Speaker 1: mind's a mess, his synthe porn rap sheet, my hacked
Speaker 1: android lover. They've got us pinned, and I hate how
Speaker 1: it fits. The guards don't speak, they don't rush me,
Speaker 1: just march their silence a cage. The hall opens to
Speaker 1: a chamber, white, seamless lights, pulsing, soft like a heartbeat.
Speaker 1: Quade's already there, slouched but tense, his jaw set, our
Speaker 1: eyes lock. Relief flickers, but it's buried under the weight
Speaker 1: of what's coming. The guards shove me in, doors hissing
Speaker 1: shut behind. A voice cuts through, smooth, synthetic female oozing
Speaker 1: control novathorn Quaid Mercer sit. We don't move fast. Quade's
Speaker 1: glare dares them. I keep mine blank, but we sit.
Speaker 1: We're seated side by side in a wide, circular room,
Speaker 1: no windows. The walls ripple faintly with low res projections,
Speaker 1: nothing readable, just motion noise control. I don't flinch. Quaid
Speaker 1: doesn't either, but I feel the shift in him. Jaw
Speaker 1: tight hands, curled across from us, stands a single bot
Speaker 1: sleeker than the militia units. No hood, no weapons, just presence, authority.
Speaker 1: Wrapped in a chrome shell. It speaks welcome to your preboard.
Speaker 1: You have been selected for dual role integration within Cynthra's
Speaker 1: Enhancement Division. Your profiles place you in ideal categories for
Speaker 1: classified service one technical, one physical. Together, you are a
Speaker 1: balanced unit. Intimate compatibility, verified neural synergy ninety two percent.
Speaker 1: Quade snorts softly beside me. I don't look at him.
Speaker 1: The hollow flares, projecting a Sinthra exact humanoid alloy skinned
Speaker 1: eyes too bright. You've been assessed, she says, voice like
Speaker 1: silk over steel. Your talents intrigue us. I snort, low talents,
Speaker 1: You mean our rap sheets. Her head tilts a mockery
Speaker 1: of a smile. Precisely No, your brain's a tool. We
Speaker 1: can use systems, mods, firmware, hacks, AI overrides. You've got
Speaker 1: a gift for bending tech. We need that. The hollow shifts,
Speaker 1: clicks of my android's patched emotions flicker. My code laid
Speaker 1: bare work for us. Optimize our pleasure grids VR androids
Speaker 1: station controls, keep the machine purring a arch of brow,
Speaker 1: but stay silent. My stomach twists. They want my dirty
Speaker 1: hands in their system. I glance at Quaid. He's stone
Speaker 1: waiting Quade, She continues, holopivoting. Your grunt works less refined smuggling, brawling,
Speaker 1: torching ships, but useful physical labor, station maintenance, cargo, runs
Speaker 1: enforcement when needed, muscle with a marketable edge. He leans forward,
Speaker 1: fists clenched, voice low. That's a polite way of saying
Speaker 1: thug with a camera accurate, She replies, unfazed. But there's
Speaker 1: more nightly performances. Both of you live unscripted for our
Speaker 1: elite clients. Your chemistry cells, human flesh unfiltered is rare profitable.
Speaker 1: I stiffen perform like Quad's VIDs, but us caged, and
Speaker 1: if we say no, I ask sharp her eyes glint.
Speaker 1: Opt in, you get rewards, credits, private quarters, station perks, comfort,
Speaker 1: opt out. The hollow shifts, dinghy cells, flickering lights, stale air,
Speaker 1: less favorable quarters. Each night you refuse downgrades, stack filthy
Speaker 1: or colder, No credits, no peace, Your records stay quiet
Speaker 1: either way. For now, Quade's fists curl, so we're your
Speaker 1: tech pet and porn mule or we rot simplified. But yes,
Speaker 1: she says, compliance buys time, resistance wastes it. Decide. The
Speaker 1: hollow winks out, leaving us in silence. I meet Quaid's eyes,
Speaker 1: his burn, mine narrow. They're playing us. I mutter, yeah,
Speaker 1: he growls, but they've got the deck stacked. The guards
Speaker 1: re enter hollowpad glowing. Choose one in tones. Now, I
Speaker 1: exhale hard. Quad's jaw ticks. We're not beaten, just buying time. Fine,
Speaker 1: I say, voice flat, We're in for now. Quaid ads
Speaker 1: lo a promise in it. The room stills. The bot
Speaker 1: turns its gaze toward us. Unreadable. Remain here. You will
Speaker 1: be read your rolls and sworn in. Shortly, it steps back,
Speaker 1: standing sentinel by the wall. The other guards mirror it,
Speaker 1: arms behind their backs, eyes forward, no weapons drawn. They
Speaker 1: don't need them, not here. Quaid leans back in his
Speaker 1: chair with the illusion of ease. But I see the
Speaker 1: coil in his shoulders. I feel it in mine too.
Speaker 1: This isn't a briefing, this is a branding. I glance
Speaker 1: around the room, no vents, no cams I can see,
Speaker 1: but I know better. This place watches without blinking. The
Speaker 1: silence is too intentional, the air too clean. Even our
Speaker 1: breathing sounds out of place. Think they'll give us matching uniforms.
Speaker 1: Quade mutters voice low, I don't smile, I can't. This
Speaker 1: is the calm before the programming. And then, without ceremony,
Speaker 1: a projection flickers to life. We wait, silent still. Then
Speaker 1: another door slides open, not the one we came through.
Speaker 1: A bot enters sleek, humanoid chrome from neck to boots,
Speaker 1: its joints humming with quiet efficiency. No hood this time,
Speaker 1: no weapon, just authority in alloy. It stops two paces
Speaker 1: in front of us, posture perfect. Its face plate shifts
Speaker 1: to reveal a synthetic mask, not quite human, not quite expressionless,
Speaker 1: just wrong enough to make the skin crawl. Designation pre boarding, subunit,
Speaker 1: roll induction and legal disclosure. The room dims. The walls
Speaker 1: behind the bot glow faint blue. You are hereby placed
Speaker 1: under Cynthra Corporate Custodial Contract, Tier four Asset Utility clause.
Speaker 1: Wade raises a brow that's supposed to sound like prison
Speaker 1: or prostitution. The bot ignores him. You will serve under
Speaker 1: classified directive within controlled infrastructure. In exchange for your cooperation,
Speaker 1: Cynthra will withhold disclosure of your legal records. This withholding
Speaker 1: is conditional and can be revoked at any time. So
Speaker 1: that's the leash blackmail dressed as opportunity. The bot continues.
Speaker 1: You will not speak of your tasks to others. You
Speaker 1: will not deviate from assigned parameters. You will comply during testing, training,
Speaker 1: and performance evaluations. You will not access system files beyond
Speaker 1: clearance tier. A pause. Then, violation of contract terms may
Speaker 1: result in sanction, isolation, or deletion. I shift in my seat.
Speaker 1: Define deletion, permanent deactivation of service capacity. Quad mutters, nice
Speaker 1: way to say corpse. The bot moves on, unfhazed by
Speaker 1: verbal agreement. You may accept your roles and advance to orientation.
Speaker 1: Refusal will initiate downgrade protocols. Do you consent to contract
Speaker 1: terms as outlined? I glance at quaid. He doesn't flinch. Yeah,
Speaker 1: he says, sure, what's one more bad idea? I nod.
Speaker 1: Once consent logged, I say flatly. The bot pauses, head
Speaker 1: tilting as if tasting the moment confirmed. You are now
Speaker 1: active participants in CYNTHRA asset program. Prepare to be briefed,
Speaker 1: and just like that, the room shifts, the lights change,
Speaker 1: the projections ripple. We're no longer guests, were no longer
Speaker 1: prisoners were tools used, owned, and very very watched. Nova Thorn.
Speaker 1: Your neural patterning and system some access experience qualifies you
Speaker 1: for Advanced Technical Integration. You will be assigned to interface
Speaker 1: with restricted systems under encrypted directives. You will not be
Speaker 1: given the full scope of your work. You will comply anyway.
Speaker 1: Quade Mercer. You will fulfill auxiliary physical roles, maintenance, retrieval,
Speaker 1: and field work as required. Your body is optimized for
Speaker 1: physical output, risk tolerance, and adaptability. Secondary status confirmed. I
Speaker 1: glance at him. His eye twitches just once. The bot continues.
Speaker 1: Each evening you will be given the option to participate
Speaker 1: in performance review. If you agree, your lodging privileges and
Speaker 1: nutritional access will be upgraded. If you refuse, accommodations will
Speaker 1: be downgraded. This is a choice one you will make
Speaker 1: nightly the guard nods. Orientation begins tomorrow. Tonight you rest separately.
Speaker 1: His grunt work, my brain work. Our days. They've got us,
Speaker 1: but we've got each other for now. They split us again.
Speaker 1: Quade down one corridor me another. The door hisses closed
Speaker 1: behind me, sealing me in a cell that's cleaner than
Speaker 1: expected but not comforting. A single bed, sterile light, no
Speaker 1: personal items, no tech. The air hums low like the rooms,
Speaker 1: exhaling beneath its own control. I sit on the edge
Speaker 1: of the mattress, hands in my lap, eyes locked on
Speaker 1: the blank wall in front of me, and I think
Speaker 1: about him, quaid, what he's doing right now, whether he's
Speaker 1: playing it cool or pacing like a caged animal. M m.
Speaker 1: He's volatile, controlled but not quiet, a match, always looking
Speaker 1: for friction. I'm not sure how long he can keep
Speaker 1: his fuse from sparking, or what happens when it does.
Speaker 1: The wall across from me pulses once, then splits open
Speaker 1: without a sound. A bot enters sleek, smaller than the guards,
Speaker 1: not armored, civilian service model, no face plate, just smooth
Speaker 1: alloy sculpted into the suggestion of one neutral polite dangerous.
Speaker 1: In its calm nova thorn, it says, voice modulated but soft.
Speaker 1: You have been selected for early access to performance privilege.
Speaker 1: I raise an eyebrow performance orientations tomorrow. This is an
Speaker 1: optional request, it replies, you are not required to participate.
Speaker 1: That's not a no, that's bait. I stand slowly, keeping
Speaker 1: my voice steady, and if I say yes, the bot's
Speaker 1: head tilts slightly, as if measuring me. You will be
Speaker 1: granted a favor, A communication window five minutes. Five minutes
Speaker 1: with who Quade mercer that hits like a quiet thud
Speaker 1: to the chest, A thousand questions bloom and die behind
Speaker 1: my teeth. What's the catch, I ask, voice sharper Now,
Speaker 1: pleasure testing standard pairing protocol. You will be paired with
Speaker 1: a male unit of your preferred archetype. No recording, no observers,
Speaker 1: just feedback, just a blade in that word. My gut knots.
Speaker 1: They're dangling fake intimacy for real stakes, knowing my android
Speaker 1: tweaks my past. But Quaid five minutes tips it. No
Speaker 1: penalty for no, not now, it says, but I know better.
Speaker 1: Those laters are unspoken, with costs lurking. But five minutes
Speaker 1: with Quaid, to hear his voice, to make sure he's
Speaker 1: still okay, to warn him not to explode. Not yet.
Speaker 1: I stare at the bot. I want to see him,
Speaker 1: not just hear him. Visual feed available one way you
Speaker 1: will not be seen. So I get to spy, not connect,
Speaker 1: not worn, but I'll know he's breathing. That might be enough.
Speaker 1: The bot steps aside, gesturing toward a hidden seam in
Speaker 1: the wall. You may accept the offer now. Refusal will
Speaker 1: not be penalized, not yet, I think, but it will be.
Speaker 1: Everything here costs something. I swallow. My skin feels too tight,
Speaker 1: my throat dry, but I nod fine. Accepted, The bot confirms.
Speaker 1: The door slides open inside dim lights, a warm bed,
Speaker 1: a malandrooid already waiting, and somewhere I can't see beyond
Speaker 1: a screen behind a feed quaid. The bot leads me
Speaker 1: to a control panel embedded in the wall, sleek, touch sensitive,
Speaker 1: flickering awake as I approach. A minimalist interface pulses with
Speaker 1: soft light. Just one prompt. Please enter parameters for your
Speaker 1: preferred sexual configuration below it sliders, toggles, pull downs, height, build,
Speaker 1: voice pitch, skin tone, sensory modifiers, kinks, durability, response time.
Speaker 1: I stand still for a beat, staring at it. The
Speaker 1: silence presses against my skin. The bot waits behind me, motionless.
Speaker 1: My fingers hover over the interface. I could choose anything,
Speaker 1: anyone I've done this before. That's the terrifying part it's
Speaker 1: too easy. But this time I don't scroll through presets.
Speaker 1: I don't pick the standard fantasy build my fingertips tap deliberate,
Speaker 1: measured simulate Quaid Mercer. The screen glitches slightly. Then model
Speaker 1: match found, reconstructing subject from internal logs and biometric references.
Speaker 1: Please confirm proceed with Quaid Mercer template. I pause. My
Speaker 1: pulse kicks. He wouldn't like this, not one bit. But
Speaker 1: they offered me something real, and I chose something real,
Speaker 1: even if it's fake. I press confirm. The box steps aside.
Speaker 1: The screen fades to black, silence, The lights dim shift.
Speaker 1: A soft mechanical chime pulses through the room, low and steady,
Speaker 1: like a countdown. Only the walls can hear. Behind me,
Speaker 1: the floor hums. A faint vibration ripples beneath my bare feet.
Speaker 1: They're building him, rendering the form, mapping the neural layers,
Speaker 1: drawing from files he never meant anyone to have. It
Speaker 1: takes time, and that's what makes it worse. They're calibrating,
Speaker 1: custom loading, his desire, his rage, his obsession for me.
Speaker 1: My breath feels louder in the stillness. I should walk away,
Speaker 1: I should shut it down, but I don't. I wait
Speaker 1: because something in me wants to know what it looks
Speaker 1: like when a man like Quaid fantasizes about a woman
Speaker 1: like me. A hiss, the wall retracts. He steps out.
Speaker 1: Quads lean frame, tousled hair, sharp, jaw, glasses glinting. My
Speaker 1: throat catches those damn glasses nova, it says, his voice,
Speaker 1: low and steady. My knees wobble. I know it's code,
Speaker 1: a trick, but it's working. I step to the bed.
Speaker 1: It waits, still, bare, like it's always known this would happen,
Speaker 1: Like it knows me, Like he's him, but he's not.
Speaker 1: Just Quade's skin on a frame. I circle, slow, light
Speaker 1: cat synthetic muscle, under programmed pores, the slouch, the scar
Speaker 1: I kissed last night. His breath pattern flawless. That's what stings.
Speaker 1: I stop, meet its eyes, quads irises, pixel sharp. Do
Speaker 1: you know what he wants? I ask, soft, but cutting
Speaker 1: It tilts its head, his careful tilt. Yes, it says.
Speaker 1: Full access to Quaid Mercer's neural imprint, emotional data, playback logs, preferences, fixations, fixations,
Speaker 1: I swallow hard. What he thinks when he thinks of me? Yes,
Speaker 1: it says how he wants me. Yes, it says I
Speaker 1: should stop, shut it down. But a dark itch claus
Speaker 1: I need to know. Feel it crawl into his unsaid edges,
Speaker 1: simulate his fantasy. I whisper with me. A flicker in
Speaker 1: its eyes, an update, a trigger confirmed running quayed Mercer's
Speaker 1: top level erotic sequence nova unrestrained. My breath stutters, the
Speaker 1: air shifts, its dance loosens like he's done thinking, started wanting.
Speaker 1: It's terrifying how fast I burn. It steps closer, confident, deliberate,
Speaker 1: not mechanical. My gut knots are vir chats flirty and safe.
Speaker 1: Never cut this deep. Now it's peeling back. I fantasize
Speaker 1: about catching you guard, it says his voice, stranger, worn,
Speaker 1: not in control, not calculating, just overwhelmed. It paces around me, slow, predatory.
Speaker 1: I don't move. You act three steps ahead, like nothing
Speaker 1: shakes you. I've seen it, that flicker before you break.
Speaker 1: I swallow too raw in my head. You're not perfect,
Speaker 1: not polished, not some tech goddess in a clean suit.
Speaker 1: You're flushed, breathing heavy because of me. Gade's twin is closer,
Speaker 1: and I don't back off. My fantasy. It murmurs, intimate, disarming.
Speaker 1: You sprawled in a maintenance bay, gloves on gone, moaning
Speaker 1: my name, like you forgot who you are. My pulse spikes.
Speaker 1: I hate how it lands. I pictured him too, unsaid things.
Speaker 1: VR filters over loneliness. He saw me this clear. I
Speaker 1: don't worship you, it growls, I undo you. The lights shift.
Speaker 1: A soft chime pulses from somewhere deep in the walls.
Speaker 1: Then the world around me blurs. The sterile chamber transforms.
Speaker 1: The smooth floors flicker, then reform, scratched metal, grated platforms,
Speaker 1: bulkhead pipes sneaking along the walls. The air turns humid,
Speaker 1: thick with coolant and ozone. I know this space station
Speaker 1: maintenance bay. It's claustrophobic, industrial, not romantic, not soft, and
Speaker 1: it's exactly what he wanted. The synthetic quad is standing
Speaker 1: at the far end, now, leaning against a pipe, sweat
Speaker 1: slick skin gleaming under the flickering overheads. His shirt is
Speaker 1: half off, his hair messier than I remember it being,
Speaker 1: even at the roach. He's breathing like he's been looking
Speaker 1: for me, like he finally found me and he's done waiting.
Speaker 1: He comes at me hard, no preamble, no teasing, just
Speaker 1: grab pole, kiss his mouth on mine, open, demanding, needy.
Speaker 1: I gasp, stumble back, but he doesn't let me fall.
Speaker 1: His hands are under my shirt, gripping, rough, tugging until
Speaker 1: fabric tears. Quaid. I start to say, but it dies
Speaker 1: in my throat because my name is already on his
Speaker 1: lips and his mouth is at my neck, biting, not gentle. No,
Speaker 1: I'm not sweet, just pure hunger. You drive me crazy,
Speaker 1: he growls into my skin. All those nights you acted
Speaker 1: like I was just code, like I wasn't burning for you.
Speaker 1: You think I forgot what you sound like when you beg.
Speaker 1: I don't even know if I did beg, but the
Speaker 1: fantasy remembers it like gospel. He spins me, presses me
Speaker 1: hard against a wall panel, grinding into me. I can
Speaker 1: feel him hot, thick, already, so fucking hard, and I
Speaker 1: know where this is going. I want to stop it.
Speaker 1: I don't stop it. His hands are everywhere, ripping my
Speaker 1: suit open, bearing me inch by inch like he earned
Speaker 1: every piece, and I'm helping him because God, I want this.
Speaker 1: Shoving at his pants, clawing at his belt, yanking the
Speaker 1: last barriers away. He lifts me, easy, urgent, and slams
Speaker 1: into me like gravity doesn't apply. Hard, deep one thrust,
Speaker 1: and I'm screaming, not pain, not fear, just raw, unfiltered need.
Speaker 1: The bay echoes with the sound of skin on skin,
Speaker 1: the grunt of his breath, the slap of my back
Speaker 1: hitting metal. My legs wrap around him, locking tight. My
Speaker 1: fingers grip his hair, his shoulders, the hot flex of
Speaker 1: his back as he fucks me like he's never going
Speaker 1: to get the chance again. I scream again, louder, this time,
Speaker 1: head thrown back, completely wrecked. It doesn't feel like a
Speaker 1: sim It feels like him. And that's the scariest part,
Speaker 1: because now now I want to believe it. After I
Speaker 1: lie there, naked, trembling, sweat slicked skin cooling against a
Speaker 1: simulation bed pretending to be cold metal. My heart is
Speaker 1: still racing, my thighs still ache, My voice is hoarse
Speaker 1: from screaming a name I never said out loud. The
Speaker 1: lights shift again, the simulation fades, The room reverts cold,
Speaker 1: white walls, clean lines, artificial stillness. The synth is gone.
Speaker 1: The illusion collapses. I should feel ashamed, I don't. I
Speaker 1: feel emptied, and somehow closer to him than ever. The
Speaker 1: wall to my left flickers to life. A communication screen
Speaker 1: hums awake. A five minute timer counts down. In the corner.
Speaker 1: He appears quaid alive, sitting on the edge of his bed,
Speaker 1: same sterile cell as mine, hair must shirt off, one hand,
Speaker 1: raking through it like it's been a rough hour. He
Speaker 1: hasn't seen me, doesn't know I'm watching. He looks wrecked,
Speaker 1: but in a different way, like he's been pacing the
Speaker 1: whole time. He glances toward the camp. No feet on
Speaker 1: his side, he knows it's audio only. Still, his eyes
Speaker 1: search the space in front of him, like he can
Speaker 1: feel me there. Hay, he says, his voice lower than usual.
Speaker 1: I hit the mic toggle pay. I answer softly, trying
Speaker 1: not to let the shake in my voice give anything away.
Speaker 1: He pauses, looks down, then back up. You sound good.
Speaker 1: I force a smile into my voice. I'm alive. I
Speaker 1: have you. His lips twitch, a shadow of his usual smirk.
Speaker 1: Barely rooms too quiet. Hate. The quiet makes my head loud.
Speaker 1: I watch him press his knuckles to his jaw. They
Speaker 1: said I'd get to talk to you, he adds, didn't
Speaker 1: expect them to actually follow through. My chest tightens me either.
Speaker 1: There's a pause, then he studies the blank space again.
Speaker 1: You sound happy, he says, carefully. That guts me. I swallow.
Speaker 1: I just needed to hear your voice. That's not a lie.
Speaker 1: I just leave out what I did to earn it.
Speaker 1: He exhales slowly, like he's been holding something back and
Speaker 1: it's finally bleeding out. I needed this, he admits, you
Speaker 1: being okay, you reminding me what I'm trying to hold
Speaker 1: on too. I smile this time, for real. You're not alone, quaid.
Speaker 1: He finally lets himself smile, And God, it's worth it.
Speaker 1: The soft lift at the corners, the grateful tilt of
Speaker 1: his head, like I handed him something real in a
Speaker 1: world made of manipulation. Thanks, he murmurs seriously. We sit
Speaker 1: in silence for a moment, comfortable silence, the first we've
Speaker 1: had since they took us. Then I say, can't wait
Speaker 1: to see you in the morning. His eyes warm, Yeah,
Speaker 1: he says me too. The screen goes dark. Morning arrives
Speaker 1: without warning, noah, alarm, no clock, just light, warm, natural,
Speaker 1: seeming filtered through a projection that mimics sunlight so well
Speaker 1: it makes my chest ache. The door to my room opens.
Speaker 1: Two bots flank the entry. One gestures follow for morning reintegration.
Speaker 1: I'm too tired to argue, too wired not to obey.
Speaker 1: They lead me through a corridor I don't recognize, quieter
Speaker 1: than yesterday, walls pulsing with subtle lavender hues. And then
Speaker 1: the garden, a dome, a fake sky, birds chirping in
Speaker 1: surround sound, trees that look like they were hands selected
Speaker 1: from a resort sim everything is perfect. Quade's already there,
Speaker 1: seated on a blanket, back against a curved tree, trunk,
Speaker 1: arms behind his head, like he's pretending this is just
Speaker 1: a vacation. He looks up and his whole face changes
Speaker 1: that grin. It's not sarcastic this time, it's relief. I
Speaker 1: walk over and sit beside him. The blankets too soft,
Speaker 1: the air's too clean. But for a moment, I forget
Speaker 1: to care. The bots place a tray in front of us,
Speaker 1: nutrient rich food, steaming, aromatic, actual texture, a caraffe of
Speaker 1: some carbonated herbal drink, even a fruit tart. I blink
Speaker 1: at it. Wade raises a brow. They feeding us like royalty.
Speaker 1: Now I shrug. We're valuable tools, need fuel. We eat
Speaker 1: slowly at first, then greedily. Our systems have been running
Speaker 1: on gray cubes and memory. This is the closest thing
Speaker 1: to pleasure we've had that didn't come with a price.
Speaker 1: We lay back on the blanket, heads tilted toward the
Speaker 1: artificial sun. I can't help but sigh. His hand finds mine, fingertips, brushing,
Speaker 1: casual comforting. A bot approaches neutral as ever, you are
Speaker 1: permitted to engage in intimacy. Surveillance is active, but not broadcasted.
Speaker 1: Feel free to initiate sexual contact at any time. We
Speaker 1: blink at it, then look at each other and laugh,
Speaker 1: not because it's funny, but because if we don't, we
Speaker 1: might start screaming. Quaid nudges my shoulder. Feel free, Nova,
Speaker 1: I roll my eyes in your dreams. Mercer grins. But
Speaker 1: it fades slower. This time. There's something warm beneath it,
Speaker 1: something real. Orientation comes next, or led to the same cold,
Speaker 1: white room, the one that wreaked of power plays and
Speaker 1: synthetic control. A new bot weights smaller, almost delicate, silver trimmed,
Speaker 1: and gentle voiced. Uniforms are presented gray and black, tight
Speaker 1: enough to remind you you're being watched. Functional enough to work,
Speaker 1: flexible enough to bend over a console or a bed.
Speaker 1: You have been assigned your duties, it says Nova Thorn
Speaker 1: System's Access Quade Mercer Physical Support Orientation complete. Then the
Speaker 1: bot continues. Pleasure protocol is optional. However, if declined repeated,
Speaker 1: your living quarters may be adjusted accordingly. This includes downgraded
Speaker 1: accommodations and the revocation of shared quarters. A polite way
Speaker 1: of saying, comply or get uncomfortable. I glance at Quaid.
Speaker 1: He doesn't react, doesn't flinch, just nods. Once the bot continues,
Speaker 1: you may select a leisure zone until dinner. We choose
Speaker 1: a view sim a projected waterfall on some lush off
Speaker 1: world jungle. We sit side by side in the fake grass,
Speaker 1: not talking much, just being. It's the only control we've
Speaker 1: had all day. And then dinner not as indulgent as lunch.
Speaker 1: Functional quiet a signal. The lights shift to a soft
Speaker 1: gold the bot's return. Please confirm your participation into night's
Speaker 1: pleasure review. We look at each other, We gnad. Then
Speaker 1: they take us separately again and brought into a white
Speaker 1: room with smooth edges and no mirrors. My clothes are
Speaker 1: removed gently, like I'm too precious to strip by force.
Speaker 1: The air grows warm, then wet. A synthetic fog starts
Speaker 1: to pour in from vents near the floor, thick, sweet,
Speaker 1: humming with something chemical. My heart rate spikes, my skin tingles.
Speaker 1: The voice returns, you have been administered S nineteen experimental psychoaphrodisiac.
Speaker 1: My knees buckle slightly, not from pain, from want. I
Speaker 1: wonder if Quade's feeling it too, Wonder if he's out there, naked, high, needy,
Speaker 1: just like me, and the fog thickens. I'm guided hands
Speaker 1: I don't see, guiding me forward. And when the door's open,
Speaker 1: he's there, not dressed, not composed, not quayed, the smartass
Speaker 1: with the steel jaw and easy grin, just him, naked,
Speaker 1: vulnerable and wrecked. His skin is flushed, his chest rising
Speaker 1: and falling too fast, his pupils blown wide. He sways
Speaker 1: slightly where he stands, like gravity's heavier than it should be,
Speaker 1: And when he sees me, his whole body tenses a
Speaker 1: flicker of something behind his eyes, recognition, relief, and beneath it, hunger,
Speaker 1: not just sexual kneading. I step forward, and the air
Speaker 1: between us charges like a live wire. But we don't touch,
Speaker 1: not yet, because the bots are waiting. We are led
Speaker 1: through the corridors together, this time naked, legs, shaking, weak, aching,
Speaker 1: with an unfamiliar kind of need. I try to focus,
Speaker 1: try to fight the haze, but my body doesn't listen.
Speaker 1: The drug pulses through my bloodstream in slow waves, making
Speaker 1: every step feel too deliberate, too sensitive, too erotic. Beside me,
Speaker 1: Quade walks just as unsteady, just as affected. I glance
Speaker 1: at him. His chest is rising and falling too quickly,
Speaker 1: his pupils too wide, his expression both dazed and tense.
Speaker 1: He looks at me, and there it is recognition. We
Speaker 1: are both too far gone to resist, but we want to,
Speaker 1: deep down, we want to oh, and that that's the
Speaker 1: real cruelty of it. The chamber is vast and white.
Speaker 1: Soft lights glow from the floor, a bed in the center, inviting, clean, luxurious,
Speaker 1: designed for display, not rough or uncomfortable, but designed for use.
Speaker 1: No straps, no cuffs, they don't need them. We step inside,
Speaker 1: barely able to walk straight. The drug coats every nerve
Speaker 1: like oil, warm, slick, inescapable. The guards say nothing, they
Speaker 1: don't have to. They step back. The doors seal behind
Speaker 1: us a soft chime, then a new voice, smooth, precise, female,
Speaker 1: not human. You may begin the sex marathon. The words
Speaker 1: hit like static, out of place and yet horrifyingly ordinary.
Speaker 1: Your objective is endurance. Proceed until failure. Every touch, every climax,
Speaker 1: every threshold crossed, will be recorded for calibration. The stage
Speaker 1: is ready and we are not, but the show must begin.
Speaker 1: You are permitted to rest between orgasms, but prolonged inactivity
Speaker 1: may be interpreted as non compliance. I choke on a laugh.
Speaker 1: It's bitter, quiet, desperate. They want to show, they want
Speaker 1: to test, They want to know how long we can
Speaker 1: fuck before our bodies give out. The silence is heavy.
Speaker 1: We just stand there. Quaid looks at me, not playful,
Speaker 1: not cocky, just there, high stripped, desperate. I look at him.
Speaker 1: Something is happening inside us, something chemically, biologically, psychologically designed,
Speaker 1: and we both know it. Come here, he murmurs, voice broken,
Speaker 1: full of everything he can't say, and I do. We
Speaker 1: stumble forward, clumsy, drugged, aching, falling into the bed like
Speaker 1: we've been collapsing toward this moment all day, skin on skin, breathless, shaking,
Speaker 1: already half undone before we even start. Because it's already begun.
Speaker 1: I can feel it building, cresting, turning me inside out.
Speaker 1: And then he reaches for me, or maybe I reach
Speaker 1: for him. The moment of contact is inevitable. My body
Speaker 1: responds before my mind can protest. We fall into each other,
Speaker 1: not like lovers reunited, but like a compulsion, like gravity itself,
Speaker 1: like we were always meant to end up here in
Speaker 1: this bed, with nothing left between us but raw, consuming pleasure.
Speaker 1: I grip the edge of the bed, my knees buckle.
Speaker 1: Quad's breathing hard beside me, trembling with restraint. I don't
Speaker 1: know when it starts. I only know when it doesn't stop.
Speaker 1: Every sensation is heightened, stretched, prolonged. His touch is too much,
Speaker 1: but I want more. My skin feels too hot, too sensitive,
Speaker 1: but I can't stop moving against him. Every orgasm is
Speaker 1: an explosion, but instead of release, it only resets us.
Speaker 1: We keep going because we can't stop, because the drug
Speaker 1: doesn't let us, because the pleasure is too much, too consuming,
Speaker 1: too perfectly timed to our every need. And then the
Speaker 1: glass changes. At first the walls were black, a false
Speaker 1: sense of privacy, but now they shift, they fade into transparency,
Speaker 1: and we see them, a full observation deck, rows of
Speaker 1: figures in the shadows, watching, recording, studying, taking notes on
Speaker 1: every movement, every moan, every climax. I freeze for a moment,
Speaker 1: or maybe I don't because my body doesn't let me.
Speaker 1: The need is still there, the high still grips us,
Speaker 1: the pleasure still builds, rising again, cresting about to pull
Speaker 1: us under, and we can't stop it. We just keep going.
Speaker 1: We don't look away. We see them, and we know
Speaker 1: they see us, and yet we let it happen. We
Speaker 1: let them see because we don't have a choice. It
Speaker 1: doesn't make sense. It should feel wrong, humiliating, degrading, but
Speaker 1: instead we're both lost in it. Our bodies move together naturally, desperately,
Speaker 1: as if we are meant to be doing this. And
Speaker 1: when I look into Kwaid's eyes, he's looking at me
Speaker 1: the same way I'm looking at him, like we know
Speaker 1: this is wrong, like we know we are being made
Speaker 1: to do this, like we know we should fight it,
Speaker 1: but we can't. And then another orgasm, and it starts
Speaker 1: all over again. The cycle doesn't break, it only begins again,
Speaker 1: over and over, like we have become part of the
Speaker 1: system itself. We are not just being watched. We are
Speaker 1: being measured. The cycle repeats over and over. There is
Speaker 1: no end, only another beginning. We are a test. How
Speaker 1: long can we go before our bodies collapse? How many
Speaker 1: times can we climax before we break? At what point
Speaker 1: does pleasure become suffering? And yet we can't stop because
Speaker 1: the pleasure doesn't stop. The drug keeps us needing, the
Speaker 1: system keeps us reacting. Our bodies have been hijacked. I
Speaker 1: can't stop. I don't want to stop, or maybe I do,
Speaker 1: but my body refuses. It doesn't matter. Pleasure is an
Speaker 1: infinite psycho, a loop with no end. It comes, it builds,
Speaker 1: it peaks, it crashes, only to rise again. I don't
Speaker 1: get a moment to breathe. The craving doesn't leave. I
Speaker 1: glance at Quad and he looks frustrated. His chest rises
Speaker 1: and falls too fast, too uneven. His skin is damp,
Speaker 1: his body trembling with too much sensation, too much need.
Speaker 1: I don't think I've ever seen a man so desperate,
Speaker 1: or maybe I have, because I feel it too. Quaate
Speaker 1: grabs me, not rough, but needy, urgent, like he's afraid
Speaker 1: I'll disappear if he doesn't hold on please, He whispers,
Speaker 1: voice raw, desperate, I want you. His fingers tighten around
Speaker 1: my hips, his lips hover over my throat, his breath hot, uneven.
Speaker 1: I need you. His cock is so hard it's throbbing, twitching,
Speaker 1: pulsing with unbearable tension. It won't stop, he groans, his
Speaker 1: forehead pressing against mine. His hips grind against me, frantic
Speaker 1: seeking relief. Make it stop. His voice breaks on the words,
Speaker 1: my cock. Fuck, it's too much. It feels like I'm
Speaker 1: going to explode. His whole body shudders. His muscles are tensed, locked,
Speaker 1: straining against the intensity. The desire is constant, insatiable, unnatural.
Speaker 1: His cock is so hard it hurts, pulsing, desperate for release.
Speaker 1: Every orgasm only resets the cycle. Every climax builds us
Speaker 1: back to the edge instantly. He doesn't get softer, he
Speaker 1: doesn't get a reprieve. It's worse for him than it
Speaker 1: is for me. I feel the heat rolling off him,
Speaker 1: the way his body demands more, more of me, more
Speaker 1: of this, more of everything. I should tell him we
Speaker 1: have to fight this. I should tell him this isn't us.
Speaker 1: It's the drugs, the conditioning, the system breaking us down.
Speaker 1: But I can't because I feel it too, the hunger,
Speaker 1: the aching, throbbing heat between my legs. My breasts feel full, swollen,
Speaker 1: hyper sensitive, my nipples hard and tight. My clip pulses
Speaker 1: electric with need, My labia so swollen, so slick, throbbing
Speaker 1: with each deep pulse of heat. My entire body is
Speaker 1: an exposed nerve, craving him, only him. I dig my
Speaker 1: nails into his back, pull him closer, feel the hard
Speaker 1: line of his cock against my soaked skin. I feel
Speaker 1: it too, I gasp, my voice shaky, lost in sensation.
Speaker 1: I need more, more of you. I spread my legs wider,
Speaker 1: arching into him. Don't stop, please, we want more, but
Speaker 1: we want it to end. And now quad is falling apart.
Speaker 1: His eyes darken, his grip tightens, and we fall into
Speaker 1: each other again. It's too much, And now he's whining, begging, please,
Speaker 1: he breathes, voice shaking, half crazed with need. His hands
Speaker 1: grip my thighs, my waist, pulling me against him like
Speaker 1: it's the only thing keeping him from losing his mind. God.
Speaker 1: His hips roll against mine, friction that only makes it worse.
Speaker 1: Too much, I can't. His voice is desperate, pleading, broken,
Speaker 1: My cog. He groans, his whole body trembling. It's too much.
Speaker 1: It feels like I'm going to explode. His breath is hot, erratic,
Speaker 1: his entire body trembling like a sex fiend. The walls
Speaker 1: remain clear, the cameras don't blink, The watchers continue to observe.
Speaker 1: We know we are being tested, We know this isn't real,
Speaker 1: but it doesn't matter, because my body isn't mine. It
Speaker 1: belongs to this moment, this pleasure, this cycle of craving
Speaker 1: and release, and I don't know if I will ever
Speaker 1: escape it, or if I even want to. The lights
Speaker 1: dim slightly, the pulse of the air changes. The bed
Speaker 1: is soaked. We are shaking, raw, slick, spent, and still
Speaker 1: twitching from the last orgasm. I don't even remember how
Speaker 1: many there were, only that My body feels like a
Speaker 1: live wire about to snap. My thighs are numb, my
Speaker 1: throat's hoarse from moaning. Quads collapsed half on top of me,
Speaker 1: his breath still ragged against my collarbone, and we're still
Speaker 1: fucking hard, still wet, still ready, even though we've both
Speaker 1: crossed the line from pleasure into something else, entirely, something
Speaker 1: burned out and beautiful and broken. The doors slide open,
Speaker 1: and the bot enters, not with urgency, not with menace,
Speaker 1: just arrival. Its voice is cool and smooth, like its
Speaker 1: delivering analytics, congratulations subjects, Nova Thorn and Quaid mercer. We
Speaker 1: don't move, We barely register it. Eight hours of uninterrupted
Speaker 1: intercourse logged, forty two climaxes recorded, male refractory periods, overridden
Speaker 1: female response, sustained neural performance above protocol, quade grown softly
Speaker 1: against my skin, Jesus. The bot continues your performance set
Speaker 1: new internal thresholds across both categories, highest physical durability, longest
Speaker 1: sustained arousal, most mutual orgasms within a closed loop. My
Speaker 1: mouth is dry. I want to laugh or scream or
Speaker 1: sleep forever. You will be given twelve hours of rest.
Speaker 1: Nutritional supplements will be administered. Next evaluations scheduled in forty
Speaker 1: eight hours. The voice pauses a near pleasant chime playing
Speaker 1: behind it, almost cheerful pleasantries will be delivered in the morning.
Speaker 1: I don't know what that means, and right now I
Speaker 1: don't care, because Quaid is barely conscious beside me, our
Speaker 1: bodies still tangled, muscles twitching with aftershocks, and me I'm
Speaker 1: not sure I remember where my own skin ends. The
Speaker 1: walls fade to black again, the lights shift, dimming into
Speaker 1: something less intrusive, less overwhelming. The temperature adjusts, the system
Speaker 1: begins its artificial cool down. But even as my eyes close,
Speaker 1: I know we're not being rewarded, We're being maintained. The
Speaker 1: doors close, We're alone, just like that. It's over, sort of,
Speaker 1: because the drug hasn't worn off, the cameras haven't stopped recording,
Speaker 1: and we're still naked, twitching, tangled, barely human. And then steam.
Speaker 1: It rolls in from the vents, thick and warm, swirling
Speaker 1: over our bodies, seeping into our lungs. I feel it
Speaker 1: clearing my mind, like a fog lifting, like reality sharpening
Speaker 1: at the edges again, the weight of pleasure, of relentless
Speaker 1: climax of absolute submission starts to ebb. I exhale, deeply, shakily.
Speaker 1: Quait does the same, his body trembling against mine. We
Speaker 1: completely let go, relaxing on the bed, exhausted and coming
Speaker 1: back to ourselves. My heart is still racing, my skin
Speaker 1: is still flushed. The craving is still there, but different, now,
Speaker 1: not chemical, not forced, real. I turn my head he's
Speaker 1: already looking at me. Something passes between us, an understanding,
Speaker 1: a new bond, a new desire. I want him again,
Speaker 1: but soberly, because I know what he feels like now,
Speaker 1: I know how he sounds when he breaks apart. I
Speaker 1: want to chase that high again, but this time on
Speaker 1: our own terms. He licks his lips, breath still uneven. Fuck,
Speaker 1: he mutters. I let out a slow, shaky laugh. Yeah,
Speaker 1: there's nothing else to say, because what just happened was
Speaker 1: supposed to break us. Instead, it created something else entirely.
Speaker 1: Wade shifts beside me, turns his face into the curve
Speaker 1: of my neck. I didn't know it could feel like that,
Speaker 1: he whispers. I don't answer, because I don't know if
Speaker 1: it was really feeling or just another kind of programming.
Speaker 1: The light's dim further simulating dusk. The hum of the
Speaker 1: chamber softens into something low and rhythmic, like a manufactured heartbeat,
Speaker 1: trying to trick us into peace. We don't move, not
Speaker 1: for a while. Eventually, Quad shifts again, carefully, wrapping an
Speaker 1: arm around my waist and pulling me against him, spooning
Speaker 1: me like its instinct, not strategy. His skin is still warm,
Speaker 1: his breath still uneven, but the desperation's gone. What's left
Speaker 1: is quiet. His lips brushed the back of my shoulder, soft,
Speaker 1: almost apologetic. Then again, a third time, I let out
Speaker 1: a shaky breath and turn toward him, pressing my forehead
Speaker 1: against his. His eyes are already half liitted, lashes damp,
Speaker 1: but when I kiss him, slow searching, he kisses me back.
Speaker 1: No audience, no performance, just us. Our mouths move lazily,
Speaker 1: our hands tangled somewhere between tired and tender. He shifts closer,
Speaker 1: his hips nudging against mine, and this time when he
Speaker 1: slides inside me, it's different, No force, no urgency, just
Speaker 1: a rhythm, a reminder that even in this place, we
Speaker 1: can still make something that doesn't belong to them. We
Speaker 1: move slow, drowsy, almost dreamlike, until we stop, until we settle,
Speaker 1: still connected, wrapped in each other's heat, until the only
Speaker 1: thing left between us is breath and heart beat and
Speaker 1: the vague hope that tomorrow might be a little less cruel.
Speaker 1: His hand curls over mine, and finally we sleep.