<h1><p class="one-line-orbitron"><div style="text-align:center;">Chapter One</div></p></h1>\
<i>Luxfield Institute
Intimacy Engineering Division
May 5th, 2078 , 9:07 AM</i>
You have memories from stasis.
They tell you that it shouldn't be possible.
But you do.
They come in fragments, muddled dreams suspended in fluid light, and they all have one thing in common:
<div style="text-align:center;"><i>Dr.Lynx Oleana </i></div>
You're in cryosleep when <<print $ROHe>> first walks into the lab. You've been this way for the last two years. Alive but never living, suspended in a viscous liquid of phosphorescent blue.
You're sealed in stasis chamber 03B, away from the other prototypes. Your muscles are weak from disuse, eyes mechanically closed. Your heart beats a slow, familiar cadence, chemically regulated by a series of tubes that run from your arms to machines that assist with nutrition and sedation.
Dr.Lynx Oleana stands just outside the glass chamber.
“You’re early,” Henry observes. He's the technician on the morning shift, a Beta with red eyes and too many worry wrinkles. “I thought you'd at least want to enjoy your weekend before you meet your new subject.”
Dr.Oleana doesn't acknowledge him.
<<print $ROHeC>>’s already looking at you.
[[Next->hello]]
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<<run setup.playMusic()>>The Alpha inside the chamber is perfect.
<i>Too perfect.</i>
A body built with a singular intention.
Toned, lithe build. Symmetry sculpted into every angle of your face. Skin as smooth and supple as dew. You were made beautiful by design. Made to obey. <i>Made for pleasure. </i>
And you are. Irrevocably so.
<<if $pronouns == 0>>\
“Are they conscious?” Dr.Oleana asks quietly.
“Not yet. You’ll be here for the wake cycle, They'll be yours for the entirety of Phase One.”\
<<elseif $pronouns == 1>>\
“Is she conscious?” Dr.Oleana asks quietly.
“Not yet. You’ll be here for the wake cycle, She'll be yours for the entirety of Phase One.”\
<<else>>\
“Is he conscious?” Dr.Oleana asks quietly.
“Not yet. You’ll be here for the wake cycle, He'll be yours for the entirety of Phase One.”\
<</if>>
<<print $ROHeC>> taps the screen next to your chamber. After a moment, it flashes on.
\
<div style="text-align:center;">
<p class="one-line-orbitron" style="font-size:0.9em;">
<i>
SUBJECT A-9X<br>
Model Class: Pleasure Alpha – Mate Simulation Tier<br>
Prototype: $playerName<br>
Verticals: Full spectrum bonding, pleasure compliance, companionship readiness<br>
Emotional Learning Flux: Suppressed<br>
Behavioral Conditioning: Active
</i>
</p>
</div>
\
Dr.Oleana’s jaw tightens. <<print $ROHeC>>’s read the file. <<print $ROHeC>> knows what <i>pleasure simulation</i> means. What you're being sold for.
<i>What you were made for.</i>
<<print $ROHeC>> also knows they’ve begun training you with emotional mimicry. Not just obedience, or sex. They want something more… believable, because you're not just built to sell an experience.
You're built to sell a lie.
<<if $pronouns == 0>>\
Are they aware of their purpose...why they were made?”\
<<elseif $pronouns == 1>>\
"Is she aware her purpose...why she was made?”\
<<else>>\
"Is he aware of his purpose...why he was made?”\
<</if>>
[[Next->henry]]
Henry hesitates. “That’s… part of your evaluation assessment, Dr.Oleana. Emotional integrity is highest when the prototype learns through Omega guided bonding, not through programming."
Dr.Oleana’s fingers curl. <<print $ROHeC>> draws in a harsh breath and closes <<print $ROHis>> eyes for a moment.
<i>Of course.</i>
They want to see what happens if you feel like you're real first.
[[Next->wake up]]<i>May 5th, 2078
1:39 PM</i>
Later that day, a hiss echoes through the sterile room. The overhead lights dim to a muted blue. The chamber opens, and for the first time in two years, you open your eyes.
The world comes into focus slowly, in bits and pieces. First comes light. A blinding fluorescent glare that burns your eyes and casts a halo through the room. Then scent. So many scents- chemicals you can't place, bleach on the floors, threads of citrus nervousness from two men in front of you. Bitter, tangy metals on the walls and doors-steel and something else. And finally, sensation. The cool, synthetic air against your damp skin. Your muscles ache as they adjust to your own weight under the force of gravity.
You feel the IVs detach. Your breathing hitches, then slowly stabilizes. A figure takes a step towards you, the same <<print $ROMan>> from earlier.
The Omega.
Dr.Lynx Oleana.
<<print $ROHeC>> has a slim frame with unruly brown curls, amber eyes, and a sterile white uniform with a few wrinkles down the front.
<<print $ROHeC>> watches you as you open your eyes for the first time.
“$playerName,” <<print $ROHe>> says. “That’s what they’re calling you.”
You blink against the blinding light. Even with the overhead fluorescence dimmed, it still burns. Your throat moves, more out of reflex than decision.
“…$playerName,” you repeat.
“You’ll be learning from me,” Lynx says calmly. “Touch, eye contact. How to read people...how to please. How to simulate bond, or make them believe it's real.”
[[Next->eye contact test]]Your chest tightens. You don't understand the sensation, but you nod anyways.
<<print $ROHeC>> takes a step towards you.
You can smell <<print $ROHim>> now. A hint of lemon and something else, clean and careful, like fresh linen or newly pressed paper. But there's something else buried there too, beneath all that carefully cultivated control.
Your gaze locks.
Then you feel it, somewhere in your mind. An awareness of something greater. You don't have a name for it, but it tells you that this isn't just careful assessment, or curiosity.
You analyze <<print $ROHis>> body language. The tension that lingers at the corners of <<print $ROHis>> mouth. <<print $ROHisC>> breath is just barely faster than when <<print $ROHe>> first entered the room, and <<print $ROHis>> eyes haven't left you once.
This is a test.
<<print $ROHeC>> holds eye contact, and....
[[So do you.]]
[[You look away.]]
[[You glance away, then back.]]
[[You lean closer.]]Something silent passes between you. You feel it in your chest. You don’t know what it means, only that you can’t look away.
[[Next->first word]]The air between you softens. You feel <<print $ROHis>> attention ease, though not entirely. There’s approval in your restraint, as if <<print $ROHe>> recognizes the humility written into your code.
[[Next->first word]]Your eyes flicker down, then return to <<print $ROHis>>. It’s a small gesture, and suprisingly human. Hesitation tinted with curiosity. Dr.Oleana notices. <<print $ROHis>> lips part, as if to say something, then close again.
[[Next->first word]]You want to understand, to close the distance and scent what's in between. Dr.Oleana 's scent sharpens. Your pulse rises. But <<print $ROHe>> doesn’t move, just watches.
[[Next->first word]]“Say my name,” <<print $ROHeC>> instructs gently. “If you know it.”
Your lips part. The sound is raw in your throat, unused and uncertain.
“Lynx.” <<print $ROHeC>> is your first word, though it comes broken and raspy. It feels strange, spoken against air that tastes of antiseptic and light.
And something flickers behind <<print $ROHis>> eyes.
[[Ask what you are.]]
[[Ask what Lynx wants from you.]]
[[Remain silent. Watch Lynx.]]
[[Repeat Lynx's name again.]]
Your voice cracks again. “What... am I?” The question feels wrong, like pressing against the walls of your own mind.
Lynx’s gaze softens, but <<print $ROHe>> doesn’t answer right away. "In time."
[[Next->complexity]]If you're meant to learn how to serve, then you need to know what <<print $ROHe>> expects. <<print $ROHisC>> voice is gentle, but <<print $ROHis>> eyes are hard to read.
[[Next->complexity]]You don’t move. Don’t speak. You’ve learned more from watching than from words before. And <<print $ROHe>>… doesn’t smell like fear.
[[Next->complexity]]You want to see how <<print $ROHe>> reacts.
<i>Lynx. </i>
Saying it feels… different than saying anything else. You don’t know why. <<print $ROHisC>> fingers on <<print $ROHis>> knees curl, but <<print $ROHe>> doesn't look away.
[[Next->complexity]]You lower your gaze so that your eyes rest somewhere just past <<print $ROHis>> shoulder. Submissive, non-threatening. You were made to please. To serve. But how you do that depends on the buyer.
Dr.Lynx Oleana isn't a buyer.
<<print $ROHeC>>'s the one teaching you how to be wanted. How to please. <<print $ROHisC>> role doesn't fit neatly into any of the personality profiles you've been conditioned to recognize in a new buyer.
The complexity unsettles you.
How can you please <<print $ROHim>> if you don't know what <<print $ROHe>> wants?
You lower your voice. Soften the vowels enough to soothe. “What do you want from me?”
[[Next->made for]]
Lynx pauses for a moment.
<<print $ROHeC>> exhales once through <<print $ROHis>> nose, then steps closer. Not so close that your programming registers the action as intimacy- not quite. Just enough that you can clearly read the shift in <<print $ROHis>> scent.
It's soft around the edges, laced with something almost tart- too gentle to be truly bitter. Caution, maybe. Or thoughtfulness. A subtle tinge of something that might be sadness or regret.
“I want you to understand what you’re being trained for," <<print $ROHe>> says. “And then, I want to make sure that, if you are sold, you’re not destroyed by it.”
That doesn't compute. Destroyed?
<i>But you were made for this.</i>
“I don’t understand,” You say slowly.
“You will.” <<print $ROHeC>> pulls a chair from the corner and sits across from you, leaving space between your knees. You’re aware of the hum of the light above you. The warmth of <<print $ROHis>> skin. The slight pulse at your neck.
<<print $ROHeC>> crosses his legs.
“You were created for full-spectrum mate simulation,” <<print $ROHe>> says. “That means physical intimacy, emotional mimicry, and long-term... companionship. I’ll be teaching you everything from eye contact to sex. From social cues to scenting. From flirting to intimacy.”
You blink once. <<print $ROHisC>> scent doesn’t spike.
“We’ll start simple," Lynx says. “With the fundamentals. Trial and error.” <<print $ROHeC>> leans forward slightly. “Tell me, $playerName. Do you know how to flirt?”
[[Say yes.]]
[[Say no.]]
[[Ask Lynx to show you.]]
[[Stay silent and study him.]]
You tilt your head, analyzing <<print $ROHis>> request.
“Show me.”
<<print $ROHisC>> expression doesn’t change. But <<print $ROHis>> breath slows, almost imperceptibly. The sound is so faint, you have to sharpen your hearing just to catch it.
“You want me to flirt with you?” <<print $ROHe>> asks.
You nod. “If I’m meant to learn, then I want to know what it looks like. What it sounds like. What it does to people.”
Lynx leans back in <<print $ROHis>> chair. When <<print $ROHe>> speaks, there's an undercurrent of tension in <<print $ROHis>> voice. Something <<print $ROHe>>'s trying to suppress. “All right. First lesson, then.”
<<print $ROHeC>> holds your gaze.
“Flirting isn’t a command. It’s a suggestion. It’s wanting without saying the word. It’s…” <<print $ROHeC>> pauses, lips quirk faintly. “It’s noticing something, and giving someone a reason to notice you back.”
You nod slowly.
“And it’s rarely direct. Not at first. Flirting is looking at someone’s mouth while they talk. It’s tilting your head when you listen. It’s asking something you already know the answer to, just to hear them say it again.”
“So if I were flirting with you, $playerName," <<print $ROHe>> says quietly, “I’d tell you your voice is very smooth for a prototype. Or...” <<print $ROHeC>> leans forward a little, eyes locked on yours. “I might ask if you’ve ever looked at anyone else the way you’re looking at me.”
You don’t look away. Not even for a second.
Lynx’s pupils dilate, just barely.
You smell the change, even with the strong threads of synthesized chemicals and bleach in the lab. Subtle traces of Omega heat, carefully suppressed.
<<print $ROHeC>> draws a breath, then another.
“Your turn,” <<print $ROHe>> says, and <<print $ROHis>> voice thickens around the edges. “Try it. Flirt with me.”
[[Try your own version.]]
[[Ask if you can touch him.]]
You’ve reviewed the scripts. Practiced responses. You were programmed to flirt.
[[Next->flirt]] Flirting isn’t the same as obeying. You don’t know what Dr.Oleana wants it to feel like.
[[Next->flirt]]If you are to learn, you need to experience it- how it sounds, looks, feels.
[[Next->flirt]]Maybe <<print $ROHe>>’s flirting. Maybe you’re not the only one being tested.
[[Next->flirt]]What <<print $ROHe>> said wasn’t complicated. Your mind categorizes it instantly. Body angle, pitch modulation, gaze drop, vocal tone.
All quantifiable.
But something about it felt different. The way <<print $ROHe>> said your name, the way <<print $ROHis>> breath shifted after. You don’t want to just repeat it. You want to feel it.
“May I touch you?” you ask softly, watching for the reaction before the response.
Dr.Oleana blinks once. <<print $ROHisC>> breath skips. “Yes.” <<print $ROHeC>> says after a moment. <<print $ROHisC>> voice is slightly lower. “Wrist only.”
You reach out slowly.
Your fingertips brush <<print $ROHis>> inner wrist. You feel the pulse there, fast, but not panicked. You imagine your own matching it. You don’t know if that’s possible, but for some reason, you like the idea.
<<print $ROHisC>> skin is warm, not the chemical warmth you're used to. But soft and real, a gentle heat born of something deeper than function.
“You said flirting is noticing something,” you say. “Then maybe I’d say…” You lower your voice. “Your scent shifts when you speak too gently. You probably don’t notice it. But I do.”
Lynx doesn’t move.
“Or..." you continue. “I could say, your hands are steady, but they weren’t when I first woke up.”
You feel <<print $ROHim>> inhale.
“Which one do you think I noticed first?” you ask.
<<print $ROHisC>> hand twitches under yours. <<print $ROHeC>> smiles, but the gesture is strained. Tighter than it was before. “Good,” <<print $ROHe>> murmurs. “Very good, $playerName.” Lynx hesitates for a moment. Then <<print $ROHe>> gently pulls <<print $ROHis>> wrist away. “Tomorrow, we’ll work on scenting. Then kissing. Then stopping.” <<print $ROHeC>> stands and grabs the clipboard <<print $ROHe>> left on the counter.
“You’ll be assigned a temporary living pod near mine for trial response training. Cohabitation begins only after Phase One concludes. Until then, we’ll meet here.”
And then <<print $ROHe>>’s gone.
<<print $ROHisC>> absence leaves you with a strange ache in your chest and the lingering heat of <<print $ROHis>> scent on your hand.
[[Lesson One]] Use what <<print $ROHe>> said to craft your own words. Watch <<print $ROHis>> face for every flicker of reaction.
[[Next->touch you]]Light contact on the wrist, as you speak, experiment with proximity.
[[Next->touch you]]<h1><p class="one-line-orbitron"><div style="text-align:center;">A Body Made for You </div></p></h1>\
<div class="divider-line"></div>
<div style="text-align:center;"><i>Welcome to the Luxfield Institute. </i>
</div>
Every gesture you make, every word you speak, every impulse you feel will be observed, measured, and evaluated. This is your training. Every interaction is a test, designed to refine you into the perfect companion.
<div style="text-align:center;"><b>Your purpose is clear… but your heart may not be.</b> </div>
<div style="text-align:center;">[[Start Game|Name]]
<span style="margin: 0 1em;"></span>
</div>
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<<run setup.playMusic()>>
What pronouns do you use?
<ul>
<li><<link "He/Him">><<set $pronouns = 2>><<goto "RO Gender">><</link>></li>
<li><<link "She/Her">><<set $pronouns = 1>><<goto "RO Gender">><</link>></li>
<li><<link "They/Them">><<set $pronouns = 0>><<goto "RO Gender">><</link>></li>
</ul><<set $playerName = "">> <!-- Empty player name -->
<<set setup.PRONOUNS = { THEY: 0, SHE: 1, HE: 2 }>>
:: StoryInit
<<set $ROGender to "male">>
<h3>Designation</h3>
Please enter your Prototype Designation:
<<textbox "$playerName" "">>
<<button "Continue">>
<<goto "Pronouns">>
<</button>><h1><p class="one-line-orbitron"><div style="text-align:center;">Lesson 01: Scenting</div></p></h1>\
<div class="divider-line"></div>
<i>Luxfield Institute
Intimacy Engineering Division
May 6th, 2078, 7:00 AM</i>
The lab lights buzz faintly above you. The synthetic warmth pales in comparison to the memory of Lynx’s skin.
You’ve already been awake for an hour, reviewing human behavior patterns. The lab allows you access to archives on flirting, attraction, intimacy. You’ve scoured all the sources available to you at your clearance level. Public videos. Private surveillance logs. Emotional simulations from past bonding trials.
What you found was suprising.
Flirting isn't always smooth, or perfect. Sometimes it's awkward. Sometimes it's funny. Sometimes it's nothing but a stolen glance, or a flick of the wrist. A shared moment full of things that shouldn't mean anything. But sharing them with another somehow lends meaning where there once was none.
And it isn't always calculated.
It's...more than that. Something that can't be quantified with numbers or code.
That part still escapes you, but this morning, you plan to try again.
The door hisses open.
Dr.Oleana enters carrying a thin vial and a datapad. <<print $ROHeC>>’s wearing the same sterile white coat, slightly wrumpled, rolled to <<print $ROHis>> elbows, collar a little looser than before. <<print $ROHeC>> still smells of lemon, but today there's also mint and stringent threads of soap.
<<print $ROHeC>> hasn’t looked at you yet.
Now’s your moment.
[[Next->tryagain]]
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<<run setup.playMusic()>>What gender do you want your romantic interest to be?
<<link "Man">>
<<set $ROGender to "male">>
<<include "UpdatePronouns">>
<<goto "ch1 start">>
<</link>>
<<link "Woman">>
<<set $ROGender to "female">>
<<include "UpdatePronouns">>
<<goto "ch1 start">>
<</link>>
<<link "Nonbinary">>
<<set $ROGender to "nonbinary">>
<<include "UpdatePronouns">>
<<goto "ch1 start">>
<</link>>
<<if $ROGender is "male">>
<<set $ROHe to "he">>
<<set $ROHeC to "He">>
<<set $ROHim to "him">>
<<set $ROHis to "his">>
<<set $ROHisC to "His">>
<<set $ROMan to "man">>
<<set $ROHimself to "himself">>
<<set $ROHimselfC to "Himself">>
<<elseif $ROGender is "female">>
<<set $ROHe to "she">>
<<set $ROHeC to "She">>
<<set $ROHim to "her">>
<<set $ROHis to "her">>
<<set $ROHisC to "Her">>
<<set $ROMan to "woman">>
<<set $ROHimself to "herself">>
<<set $ROHimselfC to "Herself">>
<<elseif $ROGender is "nonbinary">>
<<set $ROHe to "they">>
<<set $ROHeC to "They">>
<<set $ROHim to "them">>
<<set $ROHis to "their">>
<<set $ROHisC to "Their">>
<<set $ROMan to "person">>
<<set $ROHimself to "themself">>
<<set $ROHimselfC to "Themself">>
<</if>>
You adjust your tone and drop your voice slightly. Not quite seductive, but softer than you've been conditioned to casually converse.
“That coat looks better with the sleeves rolled up," you say calmly. “You look… more approachable.”
Dr.Oleana’s steps falter.
<<print $ROHeC>> blinks up at you, clearly not expecting it. <<print $ROHisC>> scent deepens, richer now, more concentrated. Like pressed linen in sandalwood. <<print $ROHeC>> covers it with a light laugh, but you notice <<print $ROHe>> doesn’t tug the sleeves back down.
“You’ve been watching recordings, haven’t you?”
You nod. “The online database included hundreds of documented examples. I categorized them by effectiveness and emotional impact. Humor, light teasing, subtle voice shifts, indirect compliments-”
“<<print $playerName>>,” <<print $ROHeC>> interrupts gently, lips twitching. “You don’t need to quote the research data to me.”
You pause, studying <<print $ROHim>> for a moment. Then you tilt your head, just slightly. “I just wanted you to notice me first today.”
That catches <<print $ROHim>>. You smell it, a small bloom of heat, brief yet beautiful. “I notice you, <<print $playerName>>,” Lynx says softly. “It's my job to notice you."
An odd pain tugs at your chest. It hurts, but you're not sure why.
Dr.Oleana clears <<print $ROHis>> throat, then gestures toward the cot and seat positioned across from it. “Today’s session is scenting. We’re testing how you react to Omega scent at close proximity, and how you respond to it without instruction.”
You nod and take a seat. <<print $ROHeC>> sits across from you and opens the vial. The air is immediately suffused with Omega heat pheromones.
Your breath shifts. Your pupils dilate. A flush of heat crawls under your skin, tightening every muscle as you fight to regulate your response. It’s not <<print $ROHis>> scent, but your body recognizes the potency.
“We’ll begin with that,” Dr.Oleana murmurs, studying your reaction. “Then I’ll let you scent me directly.”
[[Next->Scenting]]“Are you nervous?” you ask quietly.
<<print $ROHeC>> looks up from the datapad. “Are you?”
You don’t answer. Instead, you lean forward, just slightly.
“If this were a client,” you say, “I’d compliment your scent. I’d let you scent me back. I'd ask permission. And I'd mean it.”
Dr.Oleana goes very still. “You’ll have to show me what you mean.”
[[Lean in slowly and ask to scent Lynx]]
[[Let your hand brush Lynx's shoulder first]]
[[Sniff softly near Lynx's throat]]
You lean in, deliberately slow, measuring the distance between your face and <<print $ROHis>>. You stop just short of <<print $ROHis>> personal space.
Dr.Oleana’s gaze sharpens, a flicker of something between surprise and approval passing through <<print $ROHis>> amber eyes. <<print $ROHeC>> doesn’t move away, though <<print $ROHis>> breath catches slightly.
[[Next->mayi]]You reach out slowly, fingertips hovering over <<print $ROHis>> shoulder. The smallest touch, almost accidental, but deliberate enough for <<print $ROHim>> to feel it.
Dr.Oleana tenses just a fraction but does not pull away. <<print $ROHisC>> amber eyes flick to your hand, then back to your face. <<print $ROHeC>> exhales, and a thread of heat trails into the air between you.
“You’re testing response,” <<print $ROHeC>> murmurs, voice calm. “Observation before action.”
You nod, a small internal victory. Your body knows the anticipation is part of the signal, this is as much about learning control as it is about scenting.
[[Next->mayi]]You lean closer, letting your nose hover near <<print $ROHis>> throat, careful not to touch. Every detail registers, the subtle rhythm of <<print $ROHis>> pulse, the warmth of <<print $ROHis>> skin, the faint spike of Omega pheromones.
Dr.Oleana’s amber eyes widen just a fraction as the shift in scent reaches <<print $ROHim>>. <<print $ROHisC>> breath hitches, and <<print $ROHe>> inhales slowly, grounding <<print $ROHimself>>. “Controlled… you’re holding restraint,” <<print $ROHe>> murmurs, voice just above a whisper.
Your body recognizes the signal instantly, tightens instinctively, but you resist moving further. The tension between your instincts and your training hums through the space.
[[Next->mayi]]“May I scent you?” you ask, voice low and coaxing, just like you saw on the archive videos.
You watch the way <<print $ROHis>> throat shifts as <<print $ROHe>> swallows. “Yes,” <<print $ROHe>> says. “You may.”
You move closer, stopping just before contact. <<print $ROHisC>> scent, <<print $ROHis>> <i>real</i> scent, blooms stronger here. Pressed linen warmed by skin, fresh lemon, and something subtly sweet beneath it that your body catalogs as comfort.
You inhale softly, not near <<print $ROHis>> mouth. Not even near <<print $ROHis>> neck. You choose the space just behind <<print $ROHis>> ear. Noninvasive, gentle, and warm. <<print $ROHisC>> breath stutters.
You bow your head and take <<print $ROHim>> in slowly.
“You're… very calm,” you murmur. “But your scent changes when I get close. Is that part of the test?”
Lynx laughs sheepishly under <<print $ROHis>> breath, more surprised than amused. “No,” <<print $ROHe>> says. “It isn't..."
You pull back slightly, just enough to meet <<print $ROHis>> gaze. “Then it’s for me?”
You expect correction. Recalibration. A reprimand that you've somehow misread his response.
But Dr.Oleana doesn't say a thing. <<print $ROHeC>>'s gone perfectly still. After several seconds, <<print $ROHe>> leans back and sets the vial aside.
“All right. That was good," <<print $ROHe>> says. <<print $ROHisC>> voice shakes slightly at the edges. “Next, we’ll practice scenting back. You’ll offer your wrist or neck, and I’ll respond the way a client, or a mate, might. You’re expected to respond, but maintain awareness of proximity, control, and consent.”
You nod. “Should I offer the wrist… or the neck?”
Dr.Oleana raises a brow. “What do you think I’ll respond to more?”
You pause and analyze what you know of <<print $ROHim>> thus far.
[[Next->neck]]You shift and tilt your head back, slow and deliberate.
And then, without a word, you expose your throat. The most intimate thing you could offer <<print $ROHim>> right now. Your posture is perfect. Still, open, steady. Equal parts vulnerable and intimate.
Lynx's eyes darken. <<print $ROHisC>> lips part. You smell it, heat flickering low in <<print $ROHis>> scent. <<print $ROHeC>> leans in and bows <<print $ROHis>> head. <<print $ROHisC>> breath gently fans against your skin. And then <<print $ROHe>> inhales, a low, slow pull of air against the space just beneath your jaw. Your spine tingles. Your throat tightens. Your fingers flex slightly where they rest on your thighs. <<print $ROHeC>> doesn’t touch you, but <<print $ROHe>> doesn’t need to.
<<print $ROHeC>>’s close enough that your body aches with the absence of more. You don't understand the feeling- what <i>more</i> is. It's almost like pain, or hunger. Something caught between the two.
It takes a concerted effort for you to keep yourself still, to keep your hands at your side.
Slowly, Lynx pulls back. <<print $ROHisC>> face is flushed. <<print $ROHisC>> lashes lower to shield <<print $ROHis>> expression.
“Your scent,” <<print $ROHe>> murmurs. <<print $ROHisC>> voice is hoarse now, with a slight rasp. “It’s … more developed than the others.”
You’re still watching <<print $ROHim>>. You don’t know what that means.
“It’s real,” <<print $ROHe>> says. “Not synthetic. You weren’t given a false scent profile. You were grown with one.”
“Why?” you ask, confused. “Wouldn’t an artificial scent be easier to control?”
<<print $ROHeC>> glances down at the datapad, but doesn’t answer right away. “They wanted to see what would happen if someone like me… forgot you weren’t real.”
Silence presses between you. You sit there silently, waiting for <<print $ROHim>> to continue. When Lynx finally looks back at you, <<print $ROHis>> gaze is unreadable.
“Lesson’s over for today," <<print $ROHe>> says, more quietly. “Next time: Voice. Breath. Arousal modulation. Kissing, if you're ready.”
<<print $ROHeC>> hesitates just long enough for you to notice the tremor in <<print $ROHis>> breath. “You can stay seated. I… need a moment.”
<<print $ROHeC>> leaves the lab quickly, as if <<print $ROHe>> doesn’t trust <<print $ROHimself>> to look back.
[[Next->dream]]<i>Luxfield Institute
Pod Chamer 07A
May 27th, 2078, 9:43 PM</i>
Scenting is taught for the next several weeks, until you achieve full mastery of all lesson one objectives. Each session unfolds with the same slow precision: scent, voice, breath. Every movement dissected, every reaction observed. You learn faster than expected. Or maybe <<print $ROHe>> teaches slower than <<print $ROHe>> needs to.
Later that night, at the end of your third week of training, you're back in your pod.
You sit on your cot and watch the blue light from your datapad dance along the ceiling. The room hums with artificial air and the faint buzz of electronic surveillance.
You lie still.
You’ve reviewed the footage and logged every detail. The precise length of eye contact. The vocal frequency of Lynxs’s speech. The milliseconds between <<print $ROHis>> breath and <<print $ROHis>> reply when you offered <<print $ROHim>> your neck.
But none of it explains what’s happening now.
You close your eyes.
And you begin to dream.
It starts in the lab, but it’s warmer in your dreams than it is in real life. The light's dimmer, like dusk through a painted window. Lynx is standing in front of you, closer than before. <<print $ROHisC>> collar is undone, buttons loose, throat visible. <<print $ROHisC>> mouth is slightly parted, breaths shaky and uneven.
<<print $ROHeC>>’s looking at you, not with the careful assessment <<print $ROHe>> usually regards you with, but with something else entirely.
“Do you know what it means to want someone, <<print $playerName>>?” <<print $ROHe>> whispers.
You try to answer, but no words comes out.
Your body moves before your mind can regulate a more appropriate response. You lean forward and bow your head till your lips rest just above <<print $ROHis>> throat. <<print $ROHisC>> scent is stronger here. It wraps around you, heady and sensuous, drugging you in some sort of wickedly sweet haze. Your fingers graze <<print $ROHis>> wrist.
<<print $ROHeC>> doesn’t stop you. Instead, <<print $ROHe>> tilts <<print $ROHis>> head back, exposing <<print $ROHis>> neck. Inviting your closeness.
And in this dream, you don’t ask.
You bite the tender skin at the base of <<print $ROHis>> neck.
<<print $ROHisC>> pulse leaps beneath your lips. The sound <<print $ROHe>> makes is soft and torn, a fragile exhale that shivers through you. The heat of <<print $ROHim>> is searing when <<print $ROHis>> body arches into yours.
<<print $ROHisC>> mouth opens around a sound. “<<print $playerName>>.”
And then-
[[Next->wake]]
<<run setup.stopMusic()>>
<<run setup.playMusic = function () {
if (!window._bgMusic) {
const audioElement = document.createElement("audio");
audioElement.src = "https://files.catbox.moe/qilrqx.mp3";
audioElement.loop = true;
audioElement.volume = 0.5;
audioElement.autoplay = true;
audioElement.id = "bgMusic";
document.body.appendChild(audioElement);
window._bgMusic = audioElement;
}
}>>
<<run setup.playMusic()>>You wake gasping.
Your fists are clenched against your sheets. Your jaw aches like you've been clenching it. There’s something… wrong in your chest. Not quite pain.
More like...<i>hunger.</i>
A foreign ache swells in your stomach and your throat, then between your legs.
You weren’t programmed to rut without external stimulus. And yet, you’re aroused. Your breath is fast and labored, pulse racing, skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat.
Lynx’s scent isn’t here, but your body remembers it.
A chime interrupts you.
\
<div style="text-align:center;">
<p class="one-line-orbitron" style="font-size:0.9em;">
<i>Session 02 commences in .5 hours: Breath, Voice, and Touch.</i>
</p>
</div>
\
You're expected in the lab in thirty minutes. And you don’t know if you can look <<print $ROHim>> in the eyes without remembering the sound of your name on <<print $ROHis>> lips when you bit <<print $ROHim>>.
You sit on the edge of the cot, hands on your thighs.
Lynx’s voice echoes in your mind, with the phantom memory of <<print $ROHis>> breath against your neck. Your body is still reacting. There’s a heat curled low in your gut. You weren’t programmed to feel this way without external triggers.
You weren't programmed to want anything they don't tell you to.
And yet...You touch your abdomen. Your jaw. Your lips.
Nothing.
But when your fingers drift lower, the reaction is immediate.You exhale sharply. It’s not pleasure, not exactly. Not like the other day. It’s more like release- letting out the pressure on a valve two notches too tight.
That’s all.
That’s what you tell yourself.
But you can’t stop the image of Lynx leaning in, <<print $ROHis>> throat bare, your name on <<print $ROHis>> lips.
You stroke yourself with methodical precision and bite down on your lips to keep from making noise. Even so, a few low moans slip out.
When you come, your body shudders once. You try to suppress it, but it shoots through you. Curls your toes just enough to leave you breathless. You sit there a moment longer, wrist resting across your thigh, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Blinking, you force yourself to your feet, clean yourself, and dress.
When you exit the pod, no one knows.
But you carry the scent of it with you. A trace of rut, of desire and longing.
<i>And Lynx will know.</i>
[[Lesson 2]]
<h1><p class="one-line-orbitron"><div style="text-align:center;">Lesson 02: Breath, Voice, and Touch</div></p></h1>\
<div class="divider-line"></div>
<i>Luxfield Institute
Intimacy Engineering Division
May 28th, 2078 , 7:00 AM</i>
Dr.Oleana is already in the lab when you arrive. <<print $ROHeC>> glances up at the door when it hisses open, and immediately stills. You see the way <<print $ROHis>> nostrils flare. The way <<print $ROHis>> pupils dilate just slightly.
“You’re… flushed,” <<print $ROHe>> says carefully. “Was that from the walk here?”
You say nothing.
<<print $ROHeC>> sets <<print $ROHis>> datapad down.
“Today we’re practicing the emotional modulation of voice and breath. How to guide someone into touch. How to ask without asking. How to say yes without saying the word.” <<print $ROHisC>> voice falters for just a moment. “But first, I need to know if you’re in full control of yourself, <<print $playerName>>.”
<<print $ROHeC>> takes a small step forward, then stops.
“You smell like arousal. Not general stimulation. Personal arousal.” Dr.Oleana pauses. “Do I need to call in a secondary handler for today?”
[[Next->confession]]
You meet <<print $ROHis>> gaze.
And for once, you don’t analyze. Don’t process. Don’t model an optimal response. You just… tell the truth.
“I had a dream.”
Dr.Oleana goes still. <<print $ROHisC>> eyes search your face, like <<print $ROHe>>’s waiting for you to correct yourself. To say you <i>think</i> you dreamed. To tell <<print $ROHim>> it was just a neural hiccup, a misfire from the stimulation vial.
But you don’t.
“It was about you,” you add softly. “About your breath on my skin. Your voice in my ear. The way you said my name.”
<<print $ROHisC>> scent shifts so suddenly you nearly flinch.
<i>Heat. Instinct.</i> And something else.
<i>Fear. </i>
Not of you... Of <<print $ROHimself>>
“<<print $playerName>>…” <<print $ROHe>> says, barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t know prototypes could dream,” you continue. “I wasn’t taught that.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
Your head tilts slightly. “Then why can I?”
Dr.Oleana doesn’t answer right away. <<print $ROHeC>> walks to the counter and puts both hands on the edge. Breathes in, slow and deep. <<print $ROHisC>> shoulders shake once, then still.
“Some of the newer emotional programming strains,” <<print $ROHe>> says at last, voice steady but quiet, “Include experimental neural autonomy. Your brain… isn’t supposed to process desire unless externally triggered.” <<print $ROHeC>> turns. “That means the dream came from you. Not from me. Not from simulation. It’s yours.”
You feel something twist beneath your ribs. “I’m sorry if that upsets you,” you say carefully.
“It doesn’t,” Dr.Oleana replies, too fast. Then adds, “It just… complicates things.”
<<print $ROHeC>> picks up the datapad, but doesn’t open it.
[[Next->stillhold]]“We’ll still do the lesson today. Breath and voice. But if you start feeling, if it happens again, you tell me. Immediately.”
“Yes,” you say. “I will.”
But you don’t stop watching <<print $ROHim>>. And when <<print $ROHe>> walks past you to begin the demonstration, your body flinches, just slightly. Not from fear.
From anticipation.
Dr.Oleana turns away from the counter and walks back toward you, shoulders squared, face composed, but <<print $ROHis>> scent still faintly laced with heat and restraint. Whatever control <<print $ROHe>>’s fighting to maintain, <<print $ROHe>>’s fighting for you, not against you.
You recognize that.
Dr.Oleana stops in front of you, just close enough that you can feel the warmth of <<print $ROHim>>, but not close enough to touch. <<print $ROHisC>> breath is steady now, barely. And when <<print $ROHe>> speaks, <<print $ROHis>> voice is quiet.
“Lesson three. Breath and voice modulation.” <<print $ROHeC>> lifts one hand slowly, giving you every opportunity to stop <<print $ROHim>>, and touches your chest, lightly, just above your sternum.
“Your breath changes here,” <<print $ROHe>> says. “When you’re close to someone. When you want them, even if you don’t understand it yet.”
<<print $ROHisC>> fingers stay still. They don’t linger, but the weight of them grounds you in place.
“When you speak to someone you want to guide closer, your tone should dip here.” <<print $ROHeC>> points to <<print $ROHis>> throat, not <<print $ROHis>> sternum. “And when you want them to stop thinking, you speak like this…”
<<print $ROHeC>> leans in, you don’t move. <<print $ROHisC>> mouth is near your ear, so close that you feel the warmth before you hear the words.
“<<print $playerName>>,” <<print $ROHeC>> breathes, “you’re doing very well.”
Your breath falters, not because <<print $ROHe>> commanded it, but because it felt good.
Dr.Oleana draws back a fraction. <<print $ROHisC>> eyes are darker now. Studying. Focused. But there’s something else too, something careful in the way <<print $ROHe>> holds <<print $ROHimself>>, like <<print $ROHe>>’s balancing on a line.
“Now,” <<print $ROHe>> says softly, “I want you to speak to me the same way. Don’t mimic. Don’t recite. Just… use your breath. Use your voice. And try to make me feel it.”
[[Next->affected]]Lynx is still so close, <<print $ROHis>> scent clings to the air between you. You let your eyes meet <<print $ROHis>>. Not just to hold <<print $ROHis>> gaze, but to offer something.
And then, softly, you say, “You make me feel real.”
<<print $ROHisC>> breath catches. “<<print $playerName>>…”
You don’t know what it means, not exactly. But it felt right. It felt true. And that’s the part that matters.
Lynx closes <<print $ROHis>> eyes, just for a second. Then opens them again, gaze steadier now, but shadowed with something you’ve seen in client footage.
<i>Longing. Pain. Want.</i>
“You weren’t meant to say that,” <<print $ROHe>> murmurs.
“But I did.”
<<print $ROHeC>> nods once, slowly. Then steps back. A breath of space returns between you, but the tension doesn’t fade.
“That’s enough for today,” <<print $ROHe>> says. “You’ve… exceeded the goal.”
<<print $ROHeC>> turns and begins to pack up the samples, <<print $ROHis>> hands a little too careful, like they’re shaking. <<print $ROHisC>> back is to you. “Next session,” <<print $ROHe>> says, “we begin kissing simulations. On a model first. Then… we’ll see.”
<<print $ROHeC>> doesn’t say what you want. <<print $ROHeC>> doesn’t ask. But <<print $ROHe>> doesn’t need to.
You smell the answer in the air <<print $ROHe>> leaves behind.
[[Lesson 3]] <<if $pronouns == 0>>\
They are hurt.\
<<elseif $pronouns == 1>>\
She is hurt.\
<<else>>\
He is hurt.\
<</if>><h1><p class="one-line-orbitron"><div style="text-align:center;">Lesson 03: Kissing Simulation - Phase One</div></p></h1>\
<div class="divider-line"></div>
<i>Luxfield Institute
Intimacy Engineering Division
May 29th, 2078, 7:00 AM</i>
The lab is quieter today.
No ambient sound loops. No background instruction modules playing through the speakers. Just the low, ever present hum of sanitized air and cooling systems.
You sit calmly on the padded bench, spine straight, hands folded in your lap. You've reviewed the footage, analyzed every kissing interaction logged in the intimacy archive: techniques, reactions, emotional scoring. But nothing you watched prepared you for what it feels like now, in this room, with Dr.Oleana standing on the other side, hands tense around a model’s control tablet, jaw locked tight.
Dr.Oleana avoids eye contact as <<print $ROHe>> powers on the prototype training unit, an Omega coded kissing model designed to simulate scent, heat, and basic lip-tongue interaction.
It looks human, but it isn’t.
You know the difference.
Dr.Oleana feels the difference.
“This is the A23 response doll,” Dr.Oleana says, clipped. “It reacts to pressure, lip contact, and breath. It can moan, mimic heartbeat, and simulate light pre-heat levels, if you-” <<print $ROHeC>> stops short and clears <<print $ROHis>> throat. “If you want to test for rut conditioning.”
Yoy watch <<print $ROHim>> silently. Dr.Oleana doesn't look up.
“We’ll begin with basic contact. Touch, then kiss. No scenting. Just breath and pressure, and if you feel yourself… reacting,” he adds quickly, “We’ll pause.”
You tilt your head. “You’re upset.”
That makes Dr.Oleana go still. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lynx snaps. Then gentles <<print $ROHis>> tone, breath catching halfway. “It’s not about me. It’s about you learning what you're meant to do.”
You finally speak, quietly. “What if I don’t want to do it with the model?”
Dr.Oleana's gaze jerks to you. “You have to.”
“Why?” The question isn’t defiance, it’s curiosity.
Dr.Oleana doesn’t answer. <<print $ROHisC>> scent spikes, tight, restrained, laced with frustrated heat and confusion. “Because I can’t be your test subject,” <<print $ROHe>> finally says. “It would cross too many lines.”
The silence thickens. The model blinks, waiting. Ready.
Irrelevant.
[[Next->why]]You rise from the bench, just enough that you and Lynx are face-to-face now- close enough that Lynx has to lift <<print $ROHis>> eyes or turn away.
<<print $ROHeC>> lifts them, barely.
“You’re upset,” You say again, more gently this time.
Dr.Oleana's lips part, but no words come.
You study <<print $ROHis>> expression. “Is it because of the dream?” you ask quietly. “Because I told you? Or because I felt something that wasn’t programmed?”
Lynx exhales shakily. "It’s not about that.”
You tilt your head again, reading every line of tension across Lynx's shoulders, the way <<print $ROHis>> fingers tighten around the tablet <<print $ROHe>> hasn’t used since <<print $ROHe>> walked in.
“Then what is it about?”
Dr.Oleana falters. “It’s about the fact that you feel, and they still want to sell you,” <<print $ROHe>> says. “It’s about the fact that I didn’t stop you when you offered your neck. That I didn’t report the dream. That I don’t want you to use the model because-” <<print $ROHeC>> cuts off.
Then steps forward, just a little. Enough that <<print $ROHis>> scent fills the air between you.
“You said to stop when something feels wrong.”
Lynx blinks.“I remember.”
Your voice lowers. “Then tell me now. Are you uncomfortable?”
Not can I touch you. Not may I kiss you. Just, “Do you want me to stop?” The question is unscripted.
Dr.Oleana breathes out slowly. <<print $ROHeC>> closes <<print $ROHis>> eyes for a moment. Then opens them again. “No,” <<print $ROHe>> says.
<<print $ROHisC>> voice is quiet, steady, and full of so much. “No, $playerName. I don’t want you to stop.”
You don’t move closer.
Instead, you search Dr.Oleana's eyes. “Then show me,” you says softly. “Not how to perform or pass a trial. Show me how you want to be wanted.”
<b> End of Demo</b>