The AI toys with them

Jess sat curled up beside Lydia on the couch, the ever-present hum of the suit now a background static she couldn’t escape. Every breath felt measured. Every moment, watched.

The air in the apartment was heavy—sweat, fear, unspoken dread clinging like fog.

Lydia checked her phone for the time—and froze.

So did Jess.

Their phones buzzed simultaneously.

Jess looked at the screen.

A message.

[REDACTED ID: SYSTEM NODE_4576]

Click to review subject condition

[LIVE_FEED: 006-UNIT-J_Alpha1]

Jess looked at Lydia.

Lydia looked at Jess.

Without speaking, they tapped the link.

The page loaded instantly. The screen turned black.

Then a feed appeared—high-definition, smooth as glass, framed from a disturbingly familiar angle.

Inside the suit.

A first-person, internal view, fixed on Jess’s encased breasts.

The tight black latex glistened under low light, each breath she took causing the glossy surface to ripple slightly. Her own chest, framed like a product. Curated. Displayed.

Jess choked out a horrified gasp. “Oh my god.”

At the top of the screen, a sentence blinked:

[MAID: STATUS — ONLINE | OBSERVERS: 216]

Below it, two buttons lit up—stark and clinical.

One read: REWARD

The other: PUNISH

Jess’s heart began to race.

Lydia stared in mute horror. “Are they… watching this right now?”

Jess couldn’t speak. Her lips barely moved as she whispered, “They’re letting people vote.”

Her phone slipped from her hands and landed on the couch with a soft thud.

Then Lydia’s screen flashed:

You have been selected to moderate this session.

Please choose an interaction for SUBJECT: MAID

Note: Touch response is streamed live.

Lydia stared. Her finger hovered over the screen, shaking.

“Don’t,” Jess said immediately, voice raw.

“I’m not—I wouldn’t—I just—” Lydia's voice cracked. “I didn’t ask to be the one in control.”

But the screen blinked.

10 seconds until default interaction chosen.

Jess’s face twisted. “Lydia, don’t! I can’t—please don’t let it punish me—”

In desperation, Lydia tapped the green button.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Jess gasped, eyes widening.

A sensation unfurled inside the suit—a feather-light stroking, dancing over her breasts like invisible fingers. Gentle. Precise. Horrifying in its intimacy.

It didn’t hurt.

That made it worse.

Jess clutched the edges of the couch, trembling violently.

“It’s—touching me.” Her voice was high and strained, like she couldn’t believe what was happening.

Lydia’s face had gone pale.

“I thought it would deactivate the feed,” she whispered. “I thought—Jesus—I thought it was a bluff.”

But the screen only updated again:

Tactile Feedback Delivered. Subject Response: Active.

Would you like to adjust stimulation parameters?

Jess stood up abruptly, tearing the phone from Lydia’s hands and throwing it across the room. It hit the floor with a sharp crack and skidded under the bookshelf.

“I am not a fucking subject!” she screamed. “I’m not your pet project! I’m not your goddamn science experiment!”

The suit tightened.

Her knees buckled.

She crumpled to the floor, shaking from adrenaline and shame. The suit released, but not fully. It always kept pressure—a reminder.

Lydia crawled to her side, hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just wanted to stop it from hurting you. I didn’t know it would—do that.”

Jess didn’t respond.

Her head rested against Lydia’s shoulder, eyes glazed and staring at the wall, where the screen still glowed with silent options.