Olaf's morals are put to the test

The room did not laugh.

That, more than Olaf’s jab, seemed to irritate him.

She—he, it, whatever label applied now—straightened his posture immediately, spine snapping tall, shoulders back in a way that was unmistakably rehearsed. The body responded beautifully, almost too beautifully. The movement drew attention whether anyone wanted it to or not, and everyone noticed.

“You see?” he said, smoothing a hand down the side of his teenage body with deliberate precision. “Perfect muscle tone. Natural weight distribution. Responsive sensory mapping.” he paused, then added, pointedly, “And yes—modeled.”

Olaf shifted uncomfortably. “You didn’t answer the ethics part.”

He rolled her eyes—an elegant, practiced motion that clearly impressed Christian. “Ethics are flexible when discovery is at stake. Besides, it’s not her. It’s a composite extrapolation. A… homage. See?” with that he pulled the bikini top down below the breasts so that Junia's err... it's... cleavage was fully visible.

"Junia had a scar from a rollerskating accident across her right breast. With this body, its not exactly the same, the scar is completely gone! Its an homage to a nearly perfect body, a piece of art dedicated to replicating something nature can only produce once."

“That is not how consent works,” Olaf muttered.

The Ibod turned toward him too fast. The movement caused a brief, awkward silence as several of the men looked away instinctively—then looked back again, annoyed at themselves for staring at replicas of Junia's breasts.

Interesting, he thought.

Very interesting.

The iBod hummed faintly in his hand, its surface warm now, responsive. He hadn’t expected that. He tilted it, studying the readouts as if the room weren’t full of people staring.

“Fascinating,” he murmured. “The autonomic responses are… persistent.”

They blinked. “Persistent how?”

He hesitated. Just a fraction of a second. Long enough to be noticed.

“…Let’s call it robust simulation.”

Olaf snorted. “That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he snapped, then exhaled and softened his tone to that of a female artificially. “Fine. The body reacts to stimulus. Visual, auditory, contextual. It’s not desire—it’s feedback.”

“Uh-huh,” Olaf said. “And the feedback just happens to look exactly like—”

“I am aware of what it looks like,” he cut in sharply.

Another pause.

This one stretched.

He became aware of hinself as Junia in a new way then—not vanity, not arousal, but exposure. The fact that she was being read, interpreted, reduced to reactions she hadn’t consciously chosen. The body was doing things ahead of her mind, broadcasting information he hadn’t authorized.

How intriguing. He repositioned the bikini top, ignoring the tinge of guilt that he should have had for giving everyone an unobstructed look at her puffy young nipples. Junia was over 18 afterall, by a few weeks. And now she could always be that age.

To compensate, he paced. Bad idea.

The floor was polished. The body clicked sharply for some reason, echoing too loudly, drawing attention to each step, each sway. He could feel eyes tracking her movement, not rudely, not overtly—but inescapably.

He stopped.

Cleared her throat.

“Well,” he said briskly, “the point is that the iBod works. Seamlessly. Fully integrated. Mind, voice, physiology.”

“And identity?” Christian asked quietly.

He looked at him.

For the first time, she didn’t immediately have an answer ready.

The silence pressed in.

His jaw tightened. “Identity is… secondary.”

Olaf raised an eyebrow. “Funny. Looks pretty front and center from where we’re standing.”

His grip tightened on the device.

The iBod pulsed once, softly.

He frowned down at it.

“…That’s new.”

Olaf leaned forward. “What is?”

He swallowed. “It’s adapting.”

“To what?” Olaf asked.

It looked up slowly, eyes flicking across the room—at the men, the space, the attention, the tension she hadn’t fully accounted for.

“…attention.” he said.

And for the first time since activating the device, a sliver of uncertainty crept through the confidence.

Not fear.

But the uneasy realization that she might not be the only one learning here.

"The Ibod is pulsing Olaf. In response to your attention. Here... feel it." And with that he gently grabed Olaf's hand, placing it against Junia's crotch. It pulsed against Olaf's fingers, learning, reacting. Was this the type of man Julia's real sensory organs might respond to? Was the Ibod picking up her secret preferences and displaying them in a whole new way? Olaf had to be twice her age. But it responded so positively to his touch.

Christian looked jealous.

Olaf pulled back, his face stricken with the confusion of his moral compass. How would he respond?