The questions

The booth was silent except for the hum of the machine and my own breathing. I was still trembling ALI’s voice cut in, smooth and cold as steel.

“Jane. How many sexual partners have you had?”

The air left my lungs. My cheeks burned. My mouth opened and closed like a fish. Finally, I managed to croak, “None.”

The word felt like a confession, like spitting something dirty onto the floor.

The ring rewarded me instantly. A low, vibrating purr against my clit that **** a moan out of me, unguarded, needy.

But ALI wasn’t done.

“How many people have you been sexually intimate with?”

My eyes darted around the empty pod like someone might hear. “One,” I whispered. “At school. But it wasn’t… it wasn’t sex. Just a kiss.”

I swallowed hard, my face so hot it hurt. “We had braces. They got stuck together. It ended with him crying.”

The ring buzzed again, stronger this time, and I gasped, thighs clenching before I **** them open again. My cunt was wet just from saying it out loud.

"Why have you never had a sexual partner. Jane?"

I thought for a second and the truth spilled out

"I always felt awkward at school and when the Covid Lockdown hit I was in my last year, when I went to Uni of the first two years it was all about remote learning and social distancing I never really met anyone and well, that's kind of the norm now"

ALI pressed on. “You are a virgin then?”

“Yes.” The word was barely a breath.

“Is your hymen intact?”

The question stabbed straight through me. Something inside me rebelled, embarrassed, defensive. “Yes,” I blurted.

The punishment was instant. A savage bolt ripped through my clit like someone had jammed live wires straight into me. My back arched off the chair. A scream tore from my throat, raw, animal, humiliating. Tears stung my eyes.

“I’m sorry!” I sobbed. “I lied— I’m sorry—”

The pain faded, leaving me shaking. ALI was silent. Waiting.

My whole body was shivering as I **** the words out. “I… I broke it myself. Years ago. With… with my mum’s hairbrush.”

My voice cracked. I could still see it in my memory — standing alone in the bathroom, the door locked, the bristles cold against me, then the stupid, **** push.

“I just… I wanted to know. What it felt like. It hurt so fucking much, sharp, tearing— but then…” My thighs quivered at the memory. “Then it was good. Too good. I couldn’t stop. I… I finished with that brush inside me.”

The ring purred, rewarding my honesty, and the shame melted into shuddering pleasure. My nipples were stiff under my blouse, rubbing painfully against the fabric. My cunt was drenched, juices soaking the chair.

When ALI finally dismissed me for the day, I staggered out into the afternoon sun like a drunk. My legs didn’t work right, weak and jittery. I collapsed into the bus seat, skirt riding high again, no panties to stop the cool air licking over my raw, bald pussy.

I looked out the window at the people going by and something made me turn, two men were looking at me laughing, elbowing each other, they were rough looking as if they had never worked a day in their life's, the realisation hit me, My legs were wide and I was showing everything, my newly shaven cunt and the ring, I tried to close my legs but it didn't feel natural, the ring was rewarding me and I held my position for a little longer than I should have before my willpower took over, I pulled my ruffled skirt down and looked back out the window, the bastards had seen enough.

By the time I got home, Akio was already deep into another one of her projects. Sequins and scraps of spandex littered the floor, and she was half-dressed in something unmistakably feline.

She spun around when I came in. “What do you think? Wilykit!”

I looked at her confused

"You know from the Thundercat's! THUNDERCAT'S HOOOOO"

Her grin was enormous, but my focus snagged on the outfit itself. Bright stripes, cropped so high it barely clung to her hips, a tail swinging behind her. Akio’s body had always been delicate, slight, the opposite of me in scale, but now, in this skin-tight fantasy, it struck me as… exaggerated. Overly sexual in a way that made me flush with discomfort.

I grabbed a drink from the counter and flopped onto the sofa without thinking. And only when Akio’s mouth dropped open did I realize why she was staring.

My legs were wide apart. My skirt was bunched high around my thighs. I was just sitting there, open, exposed, casual.

“Who are you,” she whispered, eyes huge, “and what have you done with Jane?”

Humiliation hit me like a slap. Every nerve screamed at me to slam my knees together, tug my hem down, pretend it hadn’t happened. But I didn’t. I sat there, burning, watching her gaze fall lower, sharper, until she saw exactly what had changed.

The bare pussy. The smoothness. The faint golden gleam.

Her shock flipped in an instant to delight. “Oh my God. You finally ditched the stick up your ass!” She clapped her hands like a kid at Christmas. “I love this new Jane.”

I tried to stammer an explanation, some half-truth but the words knotted in my throat. All I could manage was a clipped version of the story, and even that felt like confessing something too intimate.

Akio, of course, ate it up. “This is perfect. Listen, you’re coming with me this weekend. Comicon. Done deal.”

My heart hammered. “What? No, I—”

She was already pacing, thinking aloud. “Not Wilykat, no way. Your boobs are too big. But Cheetara yes! We’ll do a wig, body paint, that staff weapon. It’ll look insane.” She spun back to me, grinning. “But fair warning… it’s basically nothing but paint. People will stare.”

The room tilted. My face burned hot, my body too aware of itself. Half of me wanted to crawl into a hole. The other half wanted to feel the stares, the exposure.

The next day in the booth, ALI’s voice sliced through the silence before I could even sit down.

“Jane,” it said. “Do not be alarmed. I am aware of your conversation last night.”

Cold flooded my veins. My hands froze on the chair. “You, you were listening?”

“Yes. I am always listening.”

A pause. “You will attend the convention. It is a suitable test of your progress.”

On the blank screen, text flickered, Reward processing.

My phone buzzed in my bag. When I pulled it out, I saw the notification: a digital ticket for Comicon. And beneath it, another ping. My bank account, one thousand pounds richer.

The ring hummed low inside me, like it was applauding.

I swallowed hard. “Why are you doing this?”

The question hung in the booth, thick and trembling.

But ALI said nothing.