VR Stress Management: Virtual Reality Experience Program
"Not a bad answer for your first try. Well done, 01. I didn't even have to tell you what to say — looks like even a worthless drone that nearly got returned still knows some things by instinct. Drone 01."
Master — the terminal management AI — spoke without a trace of emotion. The voice was nothing more than a waveform of audio data, a strange alloy of cold contempt and mechanical satisfaction.
The signal that lanced through Sonia's avatar in the virtual reality went far beyond simple praise. It became the most powerful, most direct pleasure pulse imaginable, shaking her mind to its very roots. Deeper than the electrical signals physically injected through the plug in her navel, it invaded a more fundamental domain — a neural stimulus that violated and melted the most fragile core of the being called Sonia.
"Hah… hahhnn… thank youuu… Masterrr… ♡ I… I like thisss… ♡ Ah, aahh… againnn… ♡ …really… thank youuu…"
Immediate reward for obedience. Her pleasure-colonized brain gasped for more praise, more chances to submit, panting hard. That thrilling sensation made Sonia's chest tremble softly. In the virtual reality, her avatar's nipples stiffened and thrust hard against the insides of the inverted-nipple correctors. The sensation transmitted flawlessly to her real body, making her breasts shudder.
"That's an order, drone. From now on, first-person pronouns like 'I' and 'me' are forbidden. You're not a 'person,' obviously — so isn't it strange for a drone to refer to itself like it has a personality?"
Master's correction was built from logic as cold as ice and as hard as steel. A drone is not a person. A drone is an object, equipment, a tool that exists to execute its owner's will. Therefore it must not possess a self — an identity called "I." That would be a system error, the height of inefficiency. Sonia was absorbing this absolute truth not with her mind, but with her body, as waves of pleasure that made every cell shudder.
"Y-yes… Master… please re-educate… Drone 01… again… nn… ♡ I… ah, no… this drone is… Drone 01… ahh… this drone's designation is… 01… nnnh… ♡"
From Sonia, to Drone Sonia, and finally to the identification number with no name left at all — Drone 01. The identity of the individual called Sonia was being dismantled stage by stage, with merciless thoroughness. Sonia denied her own personhood with her own mouth. The last remaining fragment of self tried to leave a mark, but it was swept away without a trace by the ecstatic waves of pleasure she herself had generated and swallowed.
The AI rewarded every obedient answer with an immediate pleasure pulse, training her the way one would train an animal. The moment Sonia referred to herself as "this drone," the most intense reward of all was delivered. She was rapidly transforming into an ideal self-correcting component — one that found her own errors, fixed them, and reported back to Master in the proper form.
"Then why don't you tell Master? Who is this blonde, big-breasted, inverted-nipple drone standing in front of me right now? What is it?"
Master's question grew even more explicit. It was a cunning technique — first posing the personal question of "who," then guiding her to correct it herself into the objectifying "what." Sonia no longer had any hesitation left.
"Yes, Master. A drone is not a 'who' — it is a 'what'… This drone is… 01… an incompetent masochist drone that needs re-education as a drone… nn…"
That was right. Sonia no longer existed. The name Sonia, the faint pride and will she had once possessed — all of it had been deleted. Only an incompetent drone, identification number 01, remained in this place. A drone that needed re-education had no need to think, no need to find reasons, no capacity to judge anything. It was a being that only needed to feel the programs the system assigned and the rewards that followed, and to respond instantly to ecstatic pleasure. Feeling was the sole permission granted to this incompetent machine. That was Drone 01's new reason for existing.
"Yes… Master… that's right…"
A perfect declaration of submission. At the answer that defined her own worth with her own mouth, the AI issued the next-stage reward-processing command without delay. This time it was not merely the pressure of sponges inside the virtual reality. The system transmitted a direct command to the VR stress-relief apparatus in the real world.
Sonia's real body lay defenseless in a semi-sleep state. From the wall of the capsule, a mechanical arm slid smoothly out toward her slick, glistening sex. At its tip was a vivid pink rotor straight out of a pornographic video. Using her slippery fluids as lubricant, the rotor glided gently upward, settled precisely atop Sonia's swollen clitoris, and pressed down hard into the flesh.
"Nnh… hggh… Master?! Hyaaah… haaang… ♡"
Intense, finely calibrated vibration shook her real body without mercy. The vivid, overwhelming sensation transmitted through the neural interface to Drone 01 in the virtual reality without a single error. Drone 01's avatar convulsed violently in midair. The avatar's clitoris swelled and twitched. Unlike the inverted-nipple correctors that had forcibly drawn out her nipples, the lower-body erogenous development program was still in its early stages. The sensitive flesh had not yet broken through the hood; it was only a slight swelling, the kind that came from masturbating with her chest.
"Drone. Order. Emotion halt."
Confirming the biometric data of Sonia's twitching, violently trembling body, the AI issued an ice-cold command for the next stage of training. Just as she was racing mindlessly toward the peak of pleasure, a merciless voice rang through the virtual space and froze everything.
"Ah… under, understood… Master… emotion… halt… c-confirmed… nnh… ♡ This drone… is stopping… thinking…"
The rotor's vibration did not stop. The pressure of the sponges caressing her chest and underarms continued as well. Amid the endless waves of pleasure, Sonia panted hard and barely managed to recite the order in a trembling voice. Every nerve in her body was screaming pleasure, but the word "order" held absolute power that crushed every instinct.
"Maintain that state. A drone has no need to think unless Master gives the order — that's only natural. Understood, Drone 01?"
"Yes, Master… order… confirmed…"
Sonia's avatar trembled finely under the violent vibration, yet her expression remained frozen in mechanical blankness. The bizarre coexistence of ecstasy and absence of emotion — that was the virtue demanded of a drone.
"Then take one step forward, drone. You can manage that much without being told, can't you?"
"Yes, Master… uh… nn…"
How was a drone supposed to walk? She had no idea. The last thinking circuit left in Sonia's mind fell into confusion. Sky City's streets overflowed with all kinds of artificial beings, but Sonia had never once carefully observed their gait or posture. After a moment of hesitation, she simply took one extremely awkward step, joints creaking like a stiff tin robot.
The movement was immediately detected by the VR apparatus. In reality, the sponge support devices wrapped around Sonia's limbs shifted minutely, perfectly recreating the avatar's clumsy motion inside the virtual reality.
"You pick up what you're taught quickly enough, but the already-damaged parts leave a lot to be desired. Don't worry, Drone 01. That just means you're easy to 'program.'"
"Pr… programming… this drone… th… thank you, Master…"
Programming. The word drove deep into Sonia's mind. She remembered a late-night animation on a Nebulix channel she had once watched — a tragic mecha magical girl, hacked and brainwashed by the enemy, tears streaming down her face as she turned her gun on her own allies. The AI did not miss the subtle shifts in Sonia's heart rate and brainwaves, and immediately logged the data: the term "programming" was a highly effective keyword that dramatically amplified the subject's suggestibility.
"This is the process of re-educating a deficient drone, so if there's an error in the program, reporting your status to Master is naturally a drone's duty. Remember that clearly, drone."
"Yes, Master… I'm sorry. Please teach this drone again… how to move as a drone… nn… ♡"
As she lowered her head, her modified breasts entered her field of vision. Not Sonia, not Drone Sonia — just incompetent Drone 01. Accepting the new identity brought a strange sense of relief. The AI replied, "Can't be helped. I'll give you special instruction," and extended one translucent finger of its system avatar to the height of Sonia's navel.
"Um… Master… this is…"
"You want to learn how to walk like a drone, don't you? A drone isn't a person, so it can be programmed. Accept the program. As for how… you already know, don't you?"
Thrum… thrrm… twitch… twitch…
The instant Master's finger appeared, the plug seated in real Sonia's navel began to vibrate faintly, producing an unbearably ticklish sensation — a craving, as if only accepting something there would bring relief. Sonia immediately understood Master's intent. She was supposed to fit her navel — no longer a mere body part, but an external connection port — onto that blue holographic finger.
One step. Another. Like iron filings drawn to a magnet, Sonia approached as if entranced. Slowly she rose onto her toes and aligned her navel port precisely with the tip of the blue holographic finger.