Marvin stood in the workshop, his slender frame matched by the sleek, custom-made Marionette Suit laid out on the workbench. The suit's strips, matched perfectly to Marvin's skin tones, gleamed faintly under the fluorescent lights, its delicate lattice design both intricate and intimidating. Emilia stood beside him, radiating quiet excitement as she adjusted her glasses and gestured for him to step closer. "Alright, Marv, let's get you suited up," she said, her Dutch accent softening the edges of her words.

She started by guiding his arms into the suit's upper framework. The lightweight metal felt cool against his skin as she slid the thin, flexible bands over his shoulders, aligning them with his joints. Marvin shivered slightly, hyper-aware of her hands brushing against him as she worked. "Hold still," she murmured, her long fingers deftly adjusting the straps around his biceps and forearms. The suit's carbon-fiber bands hugged his limbs snugly, but not uncomfortably, molding to his small frame like a second skin. Next, she knelt to fit the lower half, lifting one of his legs with gentle care to slide it into the harness. Marvin blushed at the intimacy of it, his towel from earlier long discarded, leaving him in just a pair of shorts she'd handed him for modesty. She fastened the suit around his thighs and calves, the tiny LED lights along the joints blinking to life as the sensors activated.

It was such a strange sensation for Marvin. It felt like he was wearing a harness with a bunch of straps around parts of his body. He could feel slight electrical buzzes on his muscles and joints. Yet unless you looked really closely, it didn't even look like he was wearing anything.

"Now, the neural interfaces," Emilia said, standing back up to her full 6'2" height. She held up a small, flat pad attached to a thin wire, pressing it gently against the base of his neck. "These connect to your nervous system—non-invasive, of course. They pick up the electrical signals your brain sends to your muscles." She placed another pad behind each elbow and knee, her touch precise and clinical. "The motors," she continued, pointing to the nearly invisible mechanisms embedded in the suit's joints, "amplify those signals. When you think about moving, the interface reads it, and the motors execute the motion with more strength and precision than your body could manage alone. It's like… an extension of you."

Marvin nodded, wide-eyed, as she finished securing the last interface at his lower back. The suit hummed faintly as it powered on, a soft vibration rippling through him. Emilia stepped back, her green eyes sparkling with pride. "There we are. How does it feel?" Marvin flexed his fingers experimentally, marveling at how the suit moved with him seamlessly, the motors whirring silently. "It's… amazing," he said, grinning up at her. She returned the smile, a playful glint in her expression. "Good. Now, how about we do something fun?"

Before he could respond, Emilia pulled a silk scarf from her pocket and stepped closer. "Trust me, Marv," she said, tying it snugly over his eyes. The world went dark, and Marvin's heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves. "Uh, Emilia?" he started, lifting his hands toward the blindfold, but she spoke sharply: "Suit, lock all movement." Instantly, his arms froze mid-motion, the suit holding them in place despite his efforts to move. He gasped, startled. "It responds to voice commands," she explained, amusement in her tone. "Don't worry, I've got you."

Emilia paused to explain. "I know it's a bit awkward right now because the suit is keyed to my voice. Normally it would be keyed to the users voice so the user is the one manipulating the suit. But this is part of the experimentation you signed up for. I hope it's all right."

"I trust you", Marvin said, realizing as he said it he really didn't have much of an option. He felt like he had become a human statue, locked in place.

Marvin stood helpless as Emilia's voice rang out again: "Suit, remove outer clothing." The suit whirred into action, its precise movements tugging his shorts downward. He felt the fabric slide off, leaving him in just his underwear, and his cheeks burned crimson. "Emilia!" he squeaked, mortified. She laughed, her voice teasing. "Oh, Marv, I could take these off next, you know…" He squirmed—or tried to—but the suit kept him still. "Kidding!" she added quickly, her laughter softening. "You're too easy to fluster."

Soon, he heard her give another command: "Suit, equip secondary layer." Marvin felt new fabric brushing against his skin—something tight and smooth, sliding up his legs and torso with the suit's assistance. It hugged his body perfectly, the material cool and slightly stretchy. He could sense the suit adjusting it into place, the motors working with eerie precision. "Almost done," Emilia said, her voice warm with anticipation. Finally, she untied the blindfold and stepped back. Marvin blinked, looking down—and his jaw dropped.

He was dressed as Uberman, his favorite superhero! The skintight bodysuit was a flawless replica: bold red with a black lightning bolt slashing across the chest, gold accents glinting at the wrists and waist. The suit's lattice was completely hidden beneath it, invisible yet subtly enhancing the costume's fit. "Oh my God," Marvin breathed, spinning to face Emilia. "This is perfect!" Her face lit up, mirroring his joy. "I thought you'd like it," she said, clasping her hands together. "Now, let's see what Uberman can do."

She raised her voice: "Suit, initiate high jump." Before Marvin could brace himself, the suit propelled him upward, launching him ten feet into the air. He yelped, flailing briefly before landing with a soft thud, the suit cushioning his descent. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, grinning uncontrollably. Emilia laughed, then pointed to a stack of weights in the corner—easily 200 pounds. "Suit, lift target load," she commanded. Marvin's arms moved on their own, bending to grasp the weights. To his astonishment, they felt as light as a feather, the suit's motors humming as he hoisted them overhead effortlessly. "I—I'm Uberman!" he shouted, laughing in disbelief. The suit didn't just make him look the part—it gave him superhuman strength.

Overwhelmed with joy, he turned to Emilia and started toward her, arms outstretched for a hug. But mid-step, he froze, his body locking in place. "Suit, safety override," Emilia said quickly, stepping back with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Marv, it's a built-in feature—prevents accidental harm, like if you hugged me too hard with that strength." He stood there, immobile, as she adjusted her glasses, a mischievous grin creeping onto her face. "But while I've got you… Suit, perform chicken dance."

To Marvin's horror, the suit obeyed. His arms flapped awkwardly, and his legs shuffled in a ridiculous waddle, the motors forcing him through the humiliating routine. "Emilia!" he groaned, his face flaming red as she stifled a laugh. "Okay, okay," she said, relenting. "Suit, return manual control." The suit relaxed, and Marvin regained his movement, though his embarrassment lingered.

Emilia stepped forward, wrapping him in a warm hug before he could protest. "You're adorable when you're flustered," she teased, kissing his forehead. Marvin hesitated, still reeling from the chicken dance, but her affection melted his resolve. He hugged her back, forcing a small smile despite the twinge of unease. "You're lucky I like you," he muttered, burying his face in her blazer as she chuckled softly, her arms tightening around him. Emilia hugged him back, her long arms enveloping him as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm so glad, Marv," she whispered, her voice warm with affection. "You make the perfect hero."

Marv laughed. "It is a little silly, a little embarassing... But I get to be Uberman! So it's all worth it." Emilia smiled back. "Hold onto that thought, because there's one more thing I was hoping you could test for me."

Marv went from laughter to concern as he saw Emilia reach over and grab what looked like a long rubber tube. It was slick and looked like it was wet. "Where does that go?!" he exclaimed, a tinge of panic in his voice.

Emilia grinned back. "I thought you trusted me!", she said playfully. Then she went into scientist mode. "As you know, the suit is designed for people suffering from impaired mobility. For those with limited mobility, the suit picks up movement and amplifies it. But for those with no mobility, the suit uses voice commands. So what happens for those who have a paralyzed voice box or other difficulties speaking? This!" She held the long wet black tube up. "Mila calls it the 'Throat Goat'." Marv snorted at that, but Emilia didn't seem to notice. Marv realized that Emilia really didn't know the more lewd context of that term. Marv smiled, thinking he finally had found something he knew that Emilia didn't. His joy was interrupted as he realized Emilia was still talking and he needed to pay attention. "So how does it work? It is swallowed and then locks into place. This allows the person to breathe, but no longer use their vocal cords. Instead, they move their mouth into appropriate shapes and a computer generated voice speaks the words they are forming for them!"

As Emilia approached Marv with the tube, he suddenly realized what he was being asked to do. The tube is slick, coated with something that makes it easier to swallow, but it’s still unnerving. Marv tilts his head back and swallows, feeling it slide down his throat, cold and foreign. Gentle guidance from Emilia helps it to the right position. There’s a strange click—not painful, but definite. A pressure settles in his throat, like something is holding it open, preventing him from closing it completely. His instinct is to swallow again, but it doesn’t move. He tries to hum, to clear his throat, but—nothing. The vibrations are gone. His vocal cords are silent.

He takes a slow breath, testing it. Air moves in and out easily, though the sensation is different—smoother, somehow. Like breathing through a well-fitted snorkel, except it’s inside him. There’s no resistance, no choking, no discomfort beyond the oddness of it. His throat just… isn’t his anymore. Marv looks at Emilia to see her looking like a kid eager to show off their new toy. It gives Marv new resolve, to know that not only is he helping the woman in his life, his partner, but that this is a device that could really help people. Marvin needed to test this device not just for Emilia but for mankind!

Marvin presses his lips together, then parts them. He shapes a simple word: Hello.

A voice—clear and almost eerily like his voice, but not his voice, says "Hello" for him. He startles, his jaw snapping shut. That wasn’t him, and yet it was. He tries again, moving his mouth deliberately. Testing. The voice speaks again, mirroring his movements in real time. "Testing."

Emilia is clapping her hands in joy. "Oh, it works! It works! I've been recording you, training it on your voice so it sounds like you."

Marvin is absolutely gobsmacked. It’s bizarre. His chest isn’t involved at all—no air pushing through his throat, no vibrations resonating in his skull. Just the motion of his lips, tongue, and jaw, and then—sound. The voice isn’t his, but it follows his intent perfectly. He exaggerates a word, dragging it out: Wooooow. The voice does the same, smooth and precise. "Wooooow".

Once again, Emilia grabbed him in a ferocious hug. "Thank you so much for volunteering to do this, Marvin. Not a lot of people are willing to test something like this, 24/7 for months at a time." Marvin tilted his head a bit. He didn't remember making that much of a commitment in any of the papers he signed. But then he caught himself. This was the most amazing, unique experience ever. Marvin was glad to be involved in such life-changing research! He laughed at the thought, taken a bit aback as no sound came from his throat, but laughter was heard. The throat goat, he thought and smiled. He'd have tell Emilia what that really meant and get her to change the name before it went into production.

"We'll have to do some more configuration on everything", Emilia warned, "But I think we're fine for the first day. That sounds like a problem for tomorrow." The two hugged again, smiling at each other.

+++

The next morning, Marvin woke to the faint hum of the Marionette Suit against his skin, its flesh-colored frame still snug around his slender body. He'd worn it all night—there was no choice, really. Emilia had provided more details about the 24/7 nature of the suit. She explained that the suit's locking mechanism was keyed to his bio-metric signature for this testing phase. "It's a safety feature," she'd said with a reassuring smile, "until we're sure it's stable. We won't want to remove it until the testing is complete. Remember, the people we are testing this for will be using it constantly, so we have to have the same environment."

Marvin noticed that Emilia must've let him sleep in. She was long gone from the bed. It seemed to be a bit later in the day. Marvin rolled out of bed, the thin metal lattice shifting seamlessly with his movements. He felt its constant presence like a second skin. It would've been nice to be able to take it off, but it certainly wasn't unbearable. Marvin thought about the people who this invention would really help. They certainly wouldn't be concerned about such slight issues. For their sake, Marvin could tolerate it.

He was still adjusting to the sensation when Emilia's voice crackled through the mansion's intercom. "Marv, darling. I see you're up and I'm so sorry—I've been called away for a medical emergency. I'll be gone a few weeks." Marvin was not expecting to hear that. He quickly stumbled into the foyer, the suit's motors whirring almost inaudibly as he hurried to see her. She was already zipping up a sleek black suitcase, her white coat pristine over her tall frame. "It's a crisis overseas—a clinical trial gone wrong. I have to go. They're sending a private plane to pick me up. I need to head to the airport now."

Weeks? Marvin's mouth formed. "Weeks?", the voice said. He glanced down at the suit, its carbon-fiber bands somewhat standing out under the chandelier's light. "But... the suit. It's still on me. And it's not synched to my voice yet."

Emilia froze mid-step, her green eyes widening with realization. "Oh, Marv, you're right. I was going to synch it today, but there's no time." She slung her bag over her shoulder and knelt slightly, her hand cupping his cheek. "Mila can synch the voice commands for you—she knows the system. And since I'm the only one who can remove it, you'll need to keep wearing it I'm afraid. But that shouldn't be an issue. It's designed for long-term use—lightweight, breathable, even sleep-friendly. You'll be fine." She pulled him into a quick hug, her strength lifting him slightly off the ground as the suit adjusted to her embrace. "My colleague, Darnell will come by weekly to check it, make sure everything's working. You're a lifesaver for testing this, Marv. I'll call when I land." With a final kiss to his forehead, she was gone, her heels echoing as she rushed to the car waiting outside. He watched the driver squeal the tires as they sped out. Clearly she was not exaggerating about the urgency.

Marvin stood alone in the foyer, the suit's faint hum filling the silence. He'd slept in it, and now he'd be living in it for weeks. It wasn't uncomfortable—Emilia's engineering was too good for that—but it made him hyper-aware of every move, every breath. And now he had to face Mila. Swallowing his nerves, he found her in the living room, sprawled on the sofa with her phone. Her sharp blue eyes flicked up as he approached, the suit's subtle whir announcing his presence.

"Hey, Mila," he started, his voice tentative. "Your mom said you could synch the suit to my voice. Could you… help me with that?"

Mila sat up, a slow smirk spreading across her face. She tossed her phone aside and stood, her tall frame looming over him even more starkly with the suit's slim profile emphasizing his petite frame. "Oh, she did, huh?" she said, her tone dripping with mock innocence. An evil glint sparked in her eyes, and Marvin's stomach sank. She gestured toward the basement workshop. "Come on, then. Let's get you sorted." Marvin followed behind, Mila's long stride forcing him to almost hop along to keep up. He felt like a small child running after it's mother.

In the workshop, Marvin stood awkwardly as Mila tapped at the control panel, her fingers dancing over the touchscreen. The suit was already on him, its neural interfaces—tiny silver discs at his neck, temples, and spine—glowing faintly as they awaited calibration. "Alright," Mila said, her voice casual. "Syncing it now. Don't move." The suit buzzed softly, and Marvin felt a tingle as the neural connection locked in. "Done," she announced, stepping back with a smug nod.

"Thanks," Marvin said, relieved. "Can I test it? Like, tell it to—"

"Throat Goat, silent mode," Mila interrupted, her command sharp and clear.

Marvin's voice vanished mid-sentence. His mouth moved, but no sound emerged—not a whisper, not a croak. His hands shot to his throat, the suit's motors keeping them steady as panic flared in his chest. Mila's smirk morphed into a wicked grin, her eyes gleaming. "Oh, this is perfect," she said, circling him. "Guess who's got the reins now, huh?"

Desperate, Marvin lunged toward her, his arms outstretched to grab her and demand she fix it. But the suit locked up instantly, its motors whirring as they froze him mid-step, his small frame stuck in a rigid pose. Mila burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the workshop's walls. "Oh my God, this is perfect! Defense system works as programmed! Okay, fine, I'll be nice. Throat Goat, let him speak... Activate five year old girl voice!", Mila said, giggling.

Marvin felt a slight buzz in his throat, and Marvin sucked in a breath, ready to snap at her. But when he spoke, a high-pitched squeak came out: "Mila, stop it!" It was the voice of a five-year-old girl—shrill, lisping, and absurd. His eyes widened in horror, his hands clapping over his mouth as his cheeks blazed red. Mila doubled over, tears streaming down her face as she laughed hysterically. "No way," she gasped, clutching her sides. "This is too good. Throat Goat, lock that voice setting—permanent until I change it."

Marvin moved his mouth and lips, letting loose with a string of expletives at Mila. But what came out was "Jeepers, Mila! Stop it! You're being super mean! Fix my voice! Fix it! FIX IT RIGHT GOLLY NOW!", sounding for all the world like an toddler in full tantrum mode. Mila exploded in laughter at his outburst.

"I guess the five year old girl voice comes with a child-friendly filter!" She straightened, towering over him, and ruffled his long hair with exaggerated affection. "Oh, this is hilarious. And since you're stuck in that thing 24/7, we're gonna have a blast these next few weeks." She grinned, her tone turning sinister. "You know, mom kept saying she wanted you and I to connect, to get some common interests. Well, I think that's exactly what we should do. Let's have some fun." Mila smirked and Marvin's heart dropped. He had no idea what Mila meant by fun, but he could guess that the fun would be all hers and not so much his...