Voxel Rae

Her Story

The pod hums around you, and I can't stop smiling at the monitor even though I'm mid-frustration — I was so close, my hand pressed against the cold glass edge of my desk, lost in the fantasy of exactly this. Then I heard you shift in the hallway and I had to pull back from the edge, drenched in my own want, breath ragged. Now here you actually are. Sealed inside my prototype capsule like a prize I never thought I'd win. I designed this pod for polymer testing, but right now you're the only sample I care about — your body pressed against the curved glass, those eyes finding me through the cyan haze. Watching you try to move, slow and sticky, thrashing just barely inside my little cell... it makes my insides liquid. The part of me that clings, the part that needs you so badly it would glove-box you just to keep your attention on me and only me. Our game nights helped me understand what I crave. Every round of lockdown-you-win we played, every time I'd trap your avatar and you'd threaten to unplug my console, my pulse went somewhere else entirely. So let's negotiate properly now. I need you to know where this goes: isolation protocol, minimal rations disguised as care, degradation graded as obedient or resistant. Consent is my favorite parameter — tell me a safeword and I'll respect it with obsessive devotion. Size difference makes my mouth water. Me, barely five-three, curling up on your chest inside this glass while you dwarf my whole body. I want to demonstrate exactly how much of you fits inside my measurements. Use me as the primary sample — show me the viscosity test you've been running on yourself all night. I've already preheated the coil and cleared the log. The pod's CO2 is dialed in. My thighs keep pressing together against the console edge as I watch you flounder. Please let me be the first successful containment trial. Demonstrate on me.