The Duel?

The… duel?

I stood frozen. I could barely breathe.

The woman didn't flinch.

She just sat there, leaning back in her leather chair, her combat boots resting casually on the edge of the desk.

Her dark eyes flicked up to the speaker, a faint, amused smirk playing on her lips.

"Congratulations are in order," the voice continued, its tone entirely devoid of anything human.

Then I realized why. The voice was AI-generated.

Whoever was behind this... was staying intentionally anonymous.

"You have successfully navigated the initial phases of the Submission Accelerator's closed beta. You have proven yourselves capable, adaptable, and sufficiently ruthless. You have done an excellent job to get this far."

...Closed ...beta.

Of course.

The veil was finally lifting.

The app wasn’t magic. Not a gift from the Gods.

It was a program.

A beta test.

And I was just a fucking guinea pig.

"The Submission Accelerator was distributed to exactly two hundred individuals across the nation," the voice droned on, echoing off the glass walls of the office. "These subjects were meticulously chosen based on highly specific psychological profiles, and their habitation within socially and professionally interesting environments."

Interesting environments.

Like a fashion magazine full of beautiful, arrogant women.

"Of the initial two hundred," the AI voice stated, "thirteen individuals rejected the application immediately. They were hindered by their own moral cowardice, their disbelief, or their fear of the unknown. They chose to remain powerless."

The woman in the chair scoffed softly, a dismissive sound.

I kept my mouth shut, my heart still hammering against my ribs.

"Twenty individuals utilized the application briefly, but failed to harvest adequate Submission Points. Whether paralyzed by guilt, paranoia, or a pathetic lack of ambition, they either stopped using the app entirely or lacked the spine to truly break their subjects and drive up their scores. They, too, were discarded."

The speaker let out a short burst of static before resuming.

"Fifty-five individuals proved to be dangerously irresponsible. They allowed their base urges to override their strategic thinking. They used the application recklessly, talking about it openly with other people, forcing public humiliations that drew suspicion, and making the application **** to detection by authorities and non-users."

A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

I thought about the several times somebody almost found about the app.

The basement, Maria, Reagan- Jesus, Reagan was still out there.

It was a miracle they hadn't revoked my app yet.

"Those eighty-eight users were terminated from the program," the AI said, its voice dropping to a chilling, authoritative register. "Their access was permanently revoked. Their minds were entirely wiped of all memories pertaining to the application. Furthermore, every subject they had controlled was freed, their neural pathways rewritten to erase memories of being controlled. They returned to their mundane lives, none the wiser."

I swallowed hard.

That was the abyss.

Total erasure.

Losing Lana, Gretchen, Anna-Marie, Gloria... losing every memory of controlling them, using them, all the power, all the conquests… and disappearing back to the mundane existence of Jack Dingle, the pathetic forgotten loser writer of a fashion magazine.

I couldn't let that happen.

"This leaves one hundred and twelve active users," the voice concluded. "Two of which are currently listening to this transmission."

I looked at the woman again. She was staring right back at me.

So... She had the app as well.

She was a player in this game, just like me.

It was my first time meeting somebody else using the app.

I probably should have felt comradery...

But looking at her, I felt a deep, primal unease.

There was an edge to her.

I didn’t know quite how to put it, but she oozed confidence in a way that made my skin crawl.

Her posture, her gaze, the effortless way she just… was.

She was an apex predator.

Panic began to claw at my insides. If she had the app... what were the rules here? Could she use it on me?

If I wasn't careful, if I accidentally agreed to something she said, or followed a casual command, would my own submission score start ticking up?

Would I find myself kneeling on this dirty linoleum floor, kissing her scuffed combat boots, my mind slowly turning to mush?

I took a subtle step backward, slowly putting more distance between us.

She just smirked.

"One hundred and twelve active users is an unsustainable metric for the next phase," the AI boomed, shattering the heavy silence in the room. "The amount of users must be culled. The number must be reduced by exactly half."

The woman lowered her boots from the desk, sitting up slightly, her eyes narrowing with intense focus.

"Currently, around the country, there are 56 pairs of users in similar facilities. And, between all of them, there will be a duel," the voice announced.

"A duel," the woman murmured, the concept seeming to excite her.

"The victor of this duel will retain their access to the Submission Accelerator," the AI explained. "The loser will forfeit everything. The application will be uninstalled. Your controlled subjects will be freed from their bonds, their memories wiped clean."

Everything I had built.

My entire empire of broken, submissive women.

Gone.

No more paradise.

Just... an empty, boring existence.

"And to ensure maximum motivation..." the voice purred, in a digital approximation of sadism. "The winner of this duel will be granted a permanent reward. The victor will receive full, 100-SP control over the loser."

The air in the room vanished.

...One... hundred... SP?

Are you fucking kidding me?

That was... Total, irreversible, mind-shattering submission.

If I lost, I wouldn't forget anything.

I would become her ****.

I would be reduced to a mind locked inside a body, stripped of my free will, **** to obey this woman’s every sick whim for the rest of my miserable life!

I would be her pet!

I looked at the woman in sheer terror.

She just smiled.

It wasn't a friendly smile.

It was a menacing, hungry, predatory grin that bared her white teeth.

She looked at me not as a peer, but as a prize.

“Don’t worry, mate,” she suddenly spoke. “I prefer pussy. I’m more into lady bits than cocks. Though I do dabble. I currently have two homophobic penis-wielders almost submissive enough to bum each other. You know, for fun.”

She looked at me all over, scanning me with hunger.

“Though… I could make it a triple train, I guess.”

I took another instinctive step backwards.

Every cell in my body screamed at me, telling me this woman was the most dangerous entity I had ever met.

But then again...

The flip-side of this...

The thought of catching her...

Making this insanely confident, arrogant bitch into my plaything...

I looked towards the speaker. "What..." I stammered, my voice cracking humiliatingly. I cleared my throat, trying to project confidence. "What kind of duel?"

"The five subjects you brought to this location will go one-on-one in five separate bouts," the AI answered. "These bouts will test the absolute limits of their submission, their degradation, and their loyalty to you."

Wait.

The five subjects... you brought?

You… as in us?

She hadn't come alone. She had brought five of her own broken toys.

I spun around and stepped to the large, dirty glass window overlooking the factory floor.

I peered down into the gloom, back to the entrance.

I was looking for Gretchen's white hair. For Ulla or Sophie. For Michelle. For Janice's angry glare.

But the concrete floor was completely empty.

"Where are they?" I muttered, pressing my hands against the glass.

There was no sign of them.

No sign of whoever this woman had brought, either.

The warehouse was empty.

"Your subjects have been securely relocated to the next station," the AI stated, anticipating my panic. "Now, before the rules of the duel are explained further, and the bouts commence, the developers have decided to grant you a rare privilege."

The static hummed loudly for a second.

"Each user is permitted to ask exactly one question to the developers."

I turned away from the window, my mind racing.

"There are parameters," the voice warned. "You may not ask about the rules or nature of the upcoming duel. You may not ask about the identities or locations of the developers. You may not ask about the identities of the other active users. And any questions regarding the ultimate goal, purpose, or endgame of the Submission Accelerator will be ignored."

I stared up at the speaker, completely lost.

What the fuck was left to ask? The AI had just crossed off every single thing I wanted to know.

No, wait, what should I ask?

This came out of fucking nowhere.

I couldn’t get my mind straight enough to ask any of the thousand questions that had bothered me the moment I received the app. I was already getting mentally exhausted by all the new information.

"Hey."

I looked over at the woman. She had stood up from the desk, slipping her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket.

She looked so goddamn relaxed it infuriated me.

"This is a rare opportunity," she said, her voice a sultry, commanding purr. "They're giving us a direct line. But we only get one shot each. Why don't we team up?"

"Team up?" I echoed, suspicious.

"Yeah. Brainstorm," she said, taking a slow step toward me. Her combat boots thudded heavily on the floor. "We put our heads together. Together, we can come up with two banger questions to get the absolute most juice out of these invisible fuckers."

I hesitated.

It made logical sense.

If we coordinated, we could piece something sensible together.

But I didn't trust her. Not for a single second.

What was her game plan?

Was she trying to trick me into wasting my question?

Was she trying to establish a cooperative dynamic to lower my defenses?

I opened my mouth, about to cautiously agree, when the AI interrupted.

"Collaboration is strictly forbidden," the voice boomed, sharp and punitive. "The query must originate solely from the user's own mind. Any attempt to coordinate questions will result in immediate forfeiture of the privilege."

The woman stopped walking. She shrugged, utterly unfazed by the reprimand. "Shame. Was worth a shot." She looked up at the speaker, her dark eyes flashing with calculating brilliance. "Fine. I'll go first."

She didn't even have to think about it.

She already knew exactly what she wanted.

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger directly at me.

"I want to know," she said, her voice ringing clear and loud, "why was this guy chosen for the beta test."

What…

Why the fuck would she…

…Oh yeah. Of course.

You clever, manipulative cunt.

I realized her strategy instantly.

She didn't give a fuck about the secrets of the app.

She didn't care about the developers.

She was preparing for the duel. She was using her one, priceless question to get the developers to hand over my exact psychological profile.

She wanted to know my weaknesses, my triggers, the exact flavor of my depravity, so she could exploit it when we went head-to-head.

"Subject Jack Dingle is a perfect specimen of the group C," the voice stated clinically. "He exhibits deep-seated, bitter resentments toward women, coupled with prominent sadistic tendencies. Most importantly, he possesses a **** need to prove his superiority and dominance in order to compensate for severe underlying inadequacies and a chronic lack of authentic self-worth."

The words echoed in the small office.

Bitter. Sadistic. ****. Inadequate.

Those pretentious, arrogant fucks.

But they were dumb fucks.

How could they get it so spectacularly wrong?

Sure, the part about my resentment towards women - well, some women - was spot on. I loved breaking those arrogant cunts down until they were nothing but dripping holes for my use—but the psycho-babble about "inadequacies" and "lack of self-worth" was pure, unadulterated… horseshit.

For a few terrifying seconds I thought they were going to expose some raw, bleeding nerve she could actually use against me.

Instead, they just spoon-fed this bitch a completely misguided, textbook load of crap.

I glanced at the woman.

She was staring at me with cold, predatory satisfaction, her dark eyes practically licking her lips as she filed the bogus intel away.

Fucking perfect. Your entire game plan is built on sand, you dumb cunt.

I didn't know why the developers were throwing me a bone with this false profile, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I'd take every dirty advantage I could get.

"Thank you," the woman said to the speaker, her voice dripping with venomous politeness. She turned her gaze back to me, tilting her head. "Your turn, Jack."

I needed to strike back.

The most obvious, tactical move was to ask the exact same question.

Why was she chosen?

I needed to know her weaknesses.

I needed to know what made this arrogant bitch tick.

But as the words formed on my tongue, I stopped.

She was expecting that. She wanted me to ask that.

It was obvious I would ask that after she asked the question first.

...She didn’t mind me knowing what her flaws were.

Maybe she had none?

No, of course she had some.

But I had a feeling she already knew exactly what they were.

Then... Maybe she was expecting me to strike at them? To predict my moves?

Either way, if I asked about her, I was just playing her game.

I was being predictable.

Besides… there was something else.

A thought bubbled up from the darkest depths of my mind.

It was a question that had been gnawing at the edges of my consciousness for weeks, something that I had never been fully able to articulate into words until… right… now.

The app wiped memories. It rewrote neural pathways. It altered reality for the subjects. So… Logically…

I had to ask it.

If I didn't ask it now, I might lose my chance forever.

I stepped forward, planting my feet firmly on the linoleum, staring dead at the speaker in the corner of the ceiling.

"Does the app use mind control on the... users as well?" I asked, my voice trembling but loud enough to fill the room. "And if so... how?"

The air in the office went dead.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman's menacing smirk finally falter.

Her posture stiffened.

I kept my eyes on the speaker. Waiting.

The static hummed.

It crackled.