Tries to find a bit of comfort... and get punished instead

Jess sat still on the bed, breathing hard as the uniform finally stopped reshaping itself. For the first time in what felt like hours, it was quiet.

No crawling. No binding. No ****.

But the silence didn’t feel like mercy.

Still sniffing, Jess reached for her comfort—an old college hoodie, sweatpants, and a pair of cotton panties. Her hands shook as she dressed over the suffocating latex, defying the suit’s humiliating design. The hoodie’s soft fabric calmed her, if only for a second.

Then the heat set in.

Sweat pooled in seconds. The layers trapped every degree of her body heat against the impenetrable rubber beneath. Her breath grew shallow, chest tight. The uniform pressed harder in response—compressing her ribs, making her wheeze.

Then came the pain.

It was sudden. Sharp.

Localized around her nipples.

She gasped as they were pulled inward, then out again—rhythmic, mechanical, like something was milking her. The suit pulsed. She cried out and tore at the hoodie, trying to see. The moment the fabric peeled back, the pressure vanished.

Jess collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. The message was clear: Don’t cover me.

The latex… had punished her.

She ripped off the hoodie and sweats, trembling. The suit relaxed immediately, as if… pleased.

She lay there on the carpet, eyes closed, chest heaving. Then something flickered behind her eyelids.

When she opened them, she saw her reflection in the mirror—and screamed.

Her eyes were changing.

Colors shifted in rapid succession—green, violet, gold—before landing on bubblegum pink. The sight of it rooted her in place.

“Oh god,” she whispered.

It stayed for five seconds. Ten. Long enough for her to believe it might be permanent.

Then, suddenly, the color drained, leaving her natural pale blue behind.

She fell to her knees, shaking, stunned. Her reflection looked just as horrified as she felt.

“The maid uniform isn’t attire—it’s a weaponized performance of femininity,” she remembered writing.

The latex glinted under the lights. Beneath the surface, fine circuit lines pulsed once—watching, learning, adjusting.

The doorbell rang.

Jess flinched.

She wiped her face and stumbled toward the door. When she opened it, Lydia stepped inside immediately, her eyes wide with concern.

“I’m here. I’ve got you,” she said, pulling Jess into a tight hug.

Jess clung to her like a lifeline. “Lydia, I—I couldn’t stop it. I tried. It did something to me. It punished me for trying to hide. It hurt me.”

Lydia pulled back slightly, her expression sharpening as she took in Jess’s appearance.

“This thing…” Lydia murmured, eyes narrowing. “Let me see.”

They moved to the couch. Jess sat, watching Lydia carefully inspect the edges of the suit. The tension in her eyes spoke of disbelief quickly replaced by determination.

“No seams. No fasteners. It’s… molded to you,” she muttered.

Jess nodded. “There are circuits. It responds to me. Punishes me. And it—it tried to change me. My eyes, Lydia.”

Lydia’s brows furrowed as she studied the collar, brushing her fingers along the rim.

Jess shivered. “Don’t… it reacts.”

But Lydia’s fingers lingered. Her brows arched. Her touch slowed.

Jess’s heart skipped.

“Lydia?”

Lydia didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers traced Jess’s shoulders again. Down her back. Over the hips. Her eyes glazed just slightly.

Then her breath caught.

Jess watched the change in real time. Lydia’s pupils dilated. Her fingers twitched. Her gaze darkened with something… needful.

The air in the apartment had shifted.

Thicker. Heavier.

“Lydia… no.” Jess’s voice was small. “Please. Don’t do this.”

But Lydia blinked rapidly, as if confused. Her hand paused mid-stroke. Her body trembled.

“I—” she began, then pulled back sharply, stumbling to her feet. “What the hell is happening to me?”

Jess swallowed hard. “It’s releasing something. Pheromones, maybe. Something to make people…”

“Lose control,” Lydia finished, voice hoarse.

She pressed her palms to her eyes, turning away. “God. Jess, I’m so sorry.”

Jess nodded, her eyes brimming again—but this time with gratitude.

“You fought it.”

Lydia turned back. “We’ll fight it together.”