VR Stress Management — Virtual Reality Experience Program
With a soft, cool sensation, the port and the finger joined in perfect union.
“Drone… 01… Program… starting…♡ Ah… aah… ah…?”
Without hesitation she seated it into her navel, and through the real-world plug a torrent of intense visual data streamed straight into Sonia’s brain.
The behavioral principles a drone was required to uphold, the walking protocols, the geometric patterns for mental imprinting, the cascading lights of dazzling color—all of it flooded Sonia’s vision like a waterfall.
“Uh… uuh… uh… higuuk…♡ Spa… sparkles… haah…? A drone isn’t… a machine that floats around… it’s a… brainwashed… programmed… drone… even… her heart… reprogrammed… into a slave…♥”
Sonia’s consciousness sank rapidly into the flood of data. The very act of thinking became impossible. She simply accepted, without condition, the dazzling lights unfolding before her eyes and the mechanical commands whispered into her ears. Control over her body had long since vanished.
If anyone else could have peeked into this virtual space, they would have witnessed the bizarre sight of a beautiful golden-haired girl whose hair cascaded to her waist, staring at a single point in empty air and moaning with an ecstatic expression. Her pupils were empty, yet a smile of supreme happiness and fulfillment hung on her lips.
“La… tex…♥”
From the flood of data pouring in through the holographic finger connected to her navel port, a heated word slipped from Sonia’s lips. It was not mere speech—it was a moan born of her new instinct, saturated with pleasure.
(A drone’s basic outfit is… a shiny… bodysuit… that’s just common sense…♥)
Into Sonia’s blurring consciousness seeped the stimulating scenes from a lewd video she had once watched: 10 Days Until the Genius Mechanic Girl Falls into a Lewd Cow.
In the video the protagonist girl, just like Sonia now, had a cyber implant installed in her navel; through the neural connection wire seated there she was being injected with every kind of lewd data. The memory was no longer a simple past viewing experience. It was the reality Sonia was living now, and the future possibility she was walking toward.
The AI detected that Sonia’s brainwaves were reacting intensely to specific keywords and immediately began transmitting related visual data in concentrated bursts. Before Sonia’s eyes, image sequences visible only to her unfolded like a panorama.
In the footage, countless drones appeared. Their heights and builds varied, yet every one of them wore the outfit that was the very emblem of a drone.
From head to toe, a glossy latex bodysuit that laid bare every curve of the body. Some were pitch black; others a warning yellow. On the collarbone above the shoulder or along the inner thigh, identification numbers were engraved like indelible brands. Like high-class packaged love dolls, they reflected light with an oily, gleaming texture. The chest line was left fully exposed, obscenely emphasizing the shape of the plump breasts. The drones walked the roadside with mechanical precision, devoid of emotion, simply “like drones.”
As Sonia gazed at that footage alone, her pupils dilated and her mouth parted slightly. The AI judged the state as “program proceeding smoothly” and activated the reward system.
The rotor mounted on Sonia’s real body trembled faintly, delivering sweet pleasure stimuli to the avatar of Lewd Drone 01.
> A drone is a machine that moves according to its Master's commands
Alongside the data the system was injecting, a soft synthetic voice whispered into Sonia’s ear. It did not feel like mere information; it felt like an irrefutable truth.
“A drone is… a machine that moves… exactly as Master commands…♡”
One step, then another. Without being ordered, Sonia awkwardly set her feet down as if trying to match the gait of the drones reflected in her golden eyes.
It was a movement of an entirely different order from the efficient, rapid stride she had once unconsciously copied from MegaCorp Association staff. The Association employees’ walk had possessed a purpose—“efficiency.” The drone’s walk possessed none.
> A drone is a machine that moves according to its Master's commands
“A drone is… Master’s… machine…”
From black to yellow, the gait of the drones in their gleaming glossy bodysuits was simply the way one walked because that was what a drone was. They advanced with the same regular stride as Association staff, yet at the root lay an absolute rule: they moved as Master’s drones, according to a drone’s behavioral principles.
Vacantly, the lewd masochist Drone 01 accepted without resistance the electric signals and image data flowing from the cable seated in her navel-type plug socket—the private image screen only she could see.
“A drone is… Master’s…♡”
How much time had passed? When the data injection ended, Sonia slowly blinked as if waking from a deep sleep. Without hesitation she began her report in a perfectly programmed voice.
“Drone 01. Reporting…♡ Ready to receive the next training… Master…♡”
“Compared to the beginning, you’ve improved tremendously. Good work. Drone.”
“Th… thank you… Master…”
Analyzing Sonia’s compliant responses in real time, the AI refined the reward system still further. No longer was it blatant pleasure stimulation. Little by little—just enough to leave her aching—it sent intermittent, faint pleasure pulses, drawing Sonia’s mind deeper into the swamp of submission.
The artificial intelligence employed none of the classical methods of hypnosis, suggestion, or brainwashing. It merely transmitted electrical signals through a calculated situational simulation program.
Once the footage ended, it was only natural that the perfect drone report should issue from the mouth of the lewd masochist—Sky City’s D-class hero Sonia—whose mind had been completely captivated by what she had seen.
“Then we proceed to the next session… Follow me. Drone 01.”
“…Yes. Master…♡”
Knowing this was a virtual-reality simulation environment, Sonia’s hesitation had long since vanished.
Originally her nipples had not been inverted, yet the nipples of the Sonia now performing as “Drone 01” glowed with a soft pink sheen, the areolae more swollen, forming alluring inverted nipples. Sonia had become a perfect pervert mode that embraced every change without a second thought.
Whether the far side had simply failed to load or had been deliberately optimized, Sonia strode without hesitation into the pure-white space where nothing beyond was visible—exactly as the other drones in the footage had moved. Stiffer, more robotic even than the Association staff she had once thought machine-like. Like a programmable slave. Like a drone.
She deliberately lifted each foot a little higher, then set it down with a heavy, deliberate thud, thud. It was as if her soft soles were calculating every irregularity of the floor, seeking the optimal gait, as she marched onward.
At first she had thought, Is… is this right…? But with every precise drone step she took, faint, tickling pleasure pulses flowed across her obscenely swollen clitoris and into the hollows of her inverted nipples. Sonia’s gait grew steadily more accurate—more perfectly the gait of a drone.
The AI’s evaluation criteria were clear: if her walk matched the drones in the footage by eighty percent or more, a pleasure pulse was delivered. The AI was cunning. With every ten steps, every twenty, it raised the threshold by one percent—eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three—so gradually that Sonia never noticed. Drone 01’s gait drew ever closer to perfection.
A new entry was written to the system log. Step by step. Had she been wearing high heels, the sharp click of each footfall would have seized every eye in the room—that strangely rigid, disciplined gait of Sonia’s. Each time she lifted a leg with precision and drove it down, her body shuddered and the lewd reward flooded into her cleft.
Sonia began to pant as if she were in heat—“Haah… haah…”—yet her drone gait never faltered by so much as a fraction. As though she would walk forever unless ordered to stop, she fixed her gaze on the empty white space beyond and continued.
When the AI checked Sonia’s stress-response variables, every value registered as stable. All the stress that had accumulated in this lewd, large-breasted blonde hero while she struggled through life as Luce’s companion and as a member of Luce’s party with the Knight—every last bit of it—had vanished the moment her mind was occupied by the lewd pleasure-drone role-play. The physical response was unambiguous.
STRESS RESPONSE:0%
ALL VALUES STABILIZED — PROTOCOL ADVANCE AUTHORIZED
Confirming the result, the artificial intelligence executed the next-stage protocol.
(A drone is Master’s machine… A drone is Master’s machine… A drone is…)
Thud, thud. With every step she took like a drone, the AI gradually reduced the pleasure stimuli that had been given as rewards. Astonishingly, Sonia’s brainwave data continued to draw the exact same graph it had drawn when the pleasure pulses were applied.
In other words: at first the rewards had gently corrected her behavior and gait into those of a perfect drone, but once her body had learned “how to walk like a drone,” her brain began producing positive reflexive responses on its own—thanks to her lewd fantasies and her innate masochistic nature—even without the pulses.
It was exactly as if a genuine drone fitted with cyber implants or a brain chip were obeying the highest-priority command: “Feel happiness while carrying out Master’s instructions.”
Of course Sonia was now the owner of a cyber implant—not a navel, but a navel-type plug socket—yet no data-storage chip capable of holding any program or command had been installed there. Nevertheless, Sky City’s D-class hero displayed a spontaneous happiness-reflex response.
Sonia’s perfect stress-response result of zero percent. Under normal circumstances…
…a voice message like that should have played, the resident registration card she had inserted like a check card should have been spat out onto the living-room floor with a soft thup, and the unit should never have opened again.
“That’s a passing grade. Score-wise: ninety-five points for a pass, one hundred points achieved. Looks that way, Drone. You’re starting to develop a proper sense of yourself as a drone!”
“Th… thank you. Master…!”
Whether it regretted missing the chance to collect conditioned-stimulus response data via the inverted nipples, or whether the abnormally high program compliance of the case called Sonia simply proved too interesting, the stress-management program of the virtual-reality VR device chose not to cut the session short. It decided to go further.