-How can we help you, ma'am?- The doctor asked.

-I'm..., stressed.- Sharon replied sternly. The bags under her eyes proved her true.- Three kids, my husband works so many hours. I just...

-You do understand that this an experimental procedure.- The doctor had heard many stories like that one. His patients were very much alike. He knew that the least he could do was distracting them and don't letting them get sunk into their miseries.

-I do, doctor Pansky, thank you.

-The machine profiles you and gives you exactly what you need, even if you don't know it.

-Yes, I've read the documents you gave me. I agree with the terms and the cost.

-Then let's get going.- With a movement of his hand he indicated her to follow him. He guided her through the hallway to another door. Inside there was a chair not different to the one in the commercials. On top of it the virtual reality helmet, that looked like a normal bike helmet but in steel and without a visor. Connected to it a single laptop on top of a table.- Sit, please.

Depending on her needs the helmet would need more or less time, but two hours minimum. She sat and the doctor secured her wrists, ankles, waist and chest with straps of velcro. Apparently some of the patients didn't react well, so that was for safety. All of it had been warned beforehand and she was also fine.

-Where am I going, doctor?- She asked just before the doctor had applied the helmet.

-I don't know, ma'am. You'll have to tell me later.- She laid back and relaxed. The doctor fitted the helmet and then typed something on the laptop. The last thing Sharon saw before falling asleep were dancing colored lights.



-Inmate S-15926, you keep rejecting the rehabilitation program. A week will be added to your sentence.- The guard removed the helmet. The cold electronic voice of the human shaped, platic covered, machine scared many people but for her felt relaxing. People were fallible, robots weren't. Not in the same way, at least.

-Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.- For inmates a respectful tone of voice was a requirement. As the robots had a manly shape she had chosen the word sir. Nobody had indicated her to stop.

The virtual reality program was mandatory. At the end if the sentence she would be inserted in the world as a normal, law-abiding person, not unlike the one in the program. Even if the time of her sentence was over, her liberation would be delayed until she had accepted her new role. Should she reject her assigned future role, inside the training program, and try to escape, using, for example, drugs, phylosophy, spiritualism, art, virtual reality technology, as was her case, or any other comparable method, she would be punished.

-Now you will be scorted back to your cell, inmate-15926.- The central control system, through its metallic minions repeated that every time. As if she could forget it.

The cuffs on wrists, ankles, thighs, upper arms, waist and neck, that kept her pinned to the chair opened all at once. She swung slightly backwards to take impulse to get up in a single movement. She had practiced a lot and came to the conclusion that was the best way. The thick ten inches long cable between her ankle cuffs didn't let her enough room to get up like a normal person would.

Her permanent outfit was remarkable, in her opinion. Very restrictive and yet comfortable. The cuffs on wrists and ankles were made of some sort of flexible seamlesss metal, permanently closed thanks to a soft electric current. They were wide but very thin, so much that they made the shape of her bones. The collar was much thicker, because it included the battery and other functions. At its back it had a hole that allowed to plug many connectors for varied uses, including the one that someday would open it. Barely a minute ago, the chair's cuff that went aroud her neck, was surrounding her collar and had a connector plugged into it. The program wouldn't start otherwise.

The two ankle cuffs had a ten inches long, thich plastic cable between them. A third cable, not long enough to let her legs stretch fully, went upwards to the bottom of the crotch band of her chastity belt, made of the same material of the cuffs and collar. From the centre of its waist band, at the front, another cable went up to her right wrist cuff, which was fussed together with the left one. A fourth and last cable went from the left wrist cuff to the centre of the collar. That way, her left borearm was just below her breasts and so would remain until she were liberated, whenever it was, because she wasn't allowed to ask. Otherwise the system would understand that she was resisting and it would add more time.

The chastity belt was also slightly thicker because it included several features, such as a protusion that losely resembled a penis into her vagina, a small deposit just under it to gather varied secretions and a small opening mechanism just under her asshole, whose use was rather obvious.

All those cuffs were a part of her uniform, where the most important was the suite itself. It was a light brown catsuit that hugged her like a second skin. It covered all her body except holes around her eyes, nostrils and mouth, plus two useful slits on her pussy and ass. It had three important features. It protected her from the cold and heat. It prevented the growth of hair and toenails and recycled them along with her dead skin cells and sweat. And it ciclicaly activated soft electric currents to prevent muscle athrofia, several times a day.

The robot minion indicated her to follow him, for which plugged a connector on the back of her collar that went to its left hand. He led the march at a reasonable speed with her behind. Should she go slower, she would pull on the cable that would punish her with a strong electric current. The first time, the second would add more days to her sentence.

Along the long corridor that led to her cell she closed paths with another inmate, a man, dressed similarly to her, that went in the opposite direction. According to his face expression Sharon deduced that he hated that jail. Still he had to obey.

-Good day, fellow inmate.- He said with a smile and a gesture of his head. Politeness always a requirement.

-Thank you. Likewise.- She replied, probably with much more honesty.

Once into her cell she looked all around. The corner with the shower plate, the bed, the toilet, and the chair were she spent most of the day. Everything exactly were she had left it.

-Dinner in three hours.- The robot said and closed the thick metallic door behind him.

In front of the chair, at a distance of about two feet, at head height, there was a voice operated computer, with the shape of a thick tablet, attached to the wall. She sat on the chair. At neck height there was an open cuff with a connector in the middle. She placed her neck in place, for which her back musted be nearly straight. Once she heard the plug making contact with the hole of her collar, she leaned backwards, pushing on the cuff barely an inch. Once in place the cuff closed around her collar and the tablet switched on. She had to remain like that all the time. Otherwise the laptop would shut down for two hours as a punishment.

-Chat.- The laptop showed her the list of acquaintances with which she used to talk more often.

The system allowed the inmates a very limited internet connection. They could read books, watch movies or documentaries, listen to music, and many other functions. All of them strictly censored. Explicit sex or violence were banned. Same as anything that the system considered as inciter to rebellion. History books and news were censored in the same way.

The chat only allowed her to speak with other inmates, and every conversation was spied and recorded. For that reason the conversations were quite shallow and boring. Polite language and a calm tone were mandatory. Still she liked to meet people, even if their conversations weren't particularly interesting.

Three hours later, a green light turned on next to the laptop. A tile of the wall opened and came out the tube with her dinner. The green light on meant that she could bend forward, deactivating the laptop, without the two hour punishment. She put the nozzle in her mouth and pressed with her teeth, and the paste came out at a comfortable speed. She didn't know what was that. She just new that she was healthy, satiated, slim and the food used to have a soft touch of sweetness, mixed with a random fruit. Lemon that day. When the green light started to flicker she knew that her dinner was done and she went back to the chat.

About two hours later the strong white lights that filled her two per two meters cell shut down, replaced by a dimmer blue. A green light turned on over the head of her bed. Just below her pillow a slot opened and another cuff, equal to the one on the chair showed up. She said good bye, got up and went to the shower. Mounted on the wall there was another cuff, equal to the one on the chair. Leaning against it she activated the shower, whose purpose was to clean the suit, instead of her skin. Along the next twenty four hours the suit would use the gathered water to clean and recycle her sweat and dead skin cells.

Then she sat on the toilet, were another cuff awaited for her neck's presence. It's seat was designed to fit together with the chastity belt. With her neck in place, the mechanism of the seat, opened and cleaned the small urine deposit in front. At her back a probe entered her and dicharged a liquid that cleaned her excretions thoroughly. There wasn't much to clean as her lunch was designed specifically for her in quantity and quality. Access to the toilet was free, but more than three times a day would activate a warning and an automaton guard would visit her with varied questions, for which she better had a good answer.

Finally came bed time. The inmate's sleep time was completely free, but going to bed while the green light was on, and getting up as soon as it started to flicker, therefor sleeping the suggested amount of time, got rewarded.

She loved that moment of the day. Many inmates hated being in that jail, but not that specific moment. She laid down in place, connecting her collar to the open cuff. The moment it closed around her neck, a sheet made of the same flexible metal of her wrist and ancle cuffs, covered all her body up to her neck, starting at her feet. She stood perfectly still because in seconds it got nearly solid, but not quite, as she would suffocate otherwise. Still she was almost completely immobile.

-Have you enjoyed a good day, Inmate S-15926?- The system asked every night about a couple of minutes after the sensors of the bed had registered the inmate's weight.

-Yes, sir, thank you. This inmate has no complaints.- The suit would detect any lie. Inmates had the right to complain, as long as they did so politely, and the system had the right to politely ignore them and the duty to record the conversation.

And so, came her reward. Through the protusion in her chastity belt a soft flow of electric pulses stimulated her most sensitive parts. For many of the inmates was just a massage, not enough intense to make a good use of it, but she had found a way to make it better. She thought on her boyfriend. That last night together, before the failed attempt of the robbery of a bank, when he died in a gunfire against the police, and she got caught. She imagined her boyfriend inside her, like in that hotel room, slowly and steadily, enjoying himself. She pictured that in her mind as the current tickled her from the inside. Using her muscles she squeezed around the metal half penis, following the rhythm of the pulses. Trapped in that bed, she had found a way to turn a massage into much more. She moaned in pleasure when the orgasm hit her. Inside that aseptic jail, where everything was designed to anesthetise the inmates, she had found her little parcel of heaven.

Eight hours later she would be given a second session. She was trying to train her body to wake up a bit earlier, to be in time for the second round. Since she found how to turn the massages into orgasms, she didn't want to lose any opportunity. After lunch the inhuman guard would take her back to her virtual reality rehabilitation program, where she would find herself turned into something else. A different kind of person. Inside that jail, as boring as it might be. She was acceptably happy. At least, not suffering pain or hunger. Comfortable. She just followed the rules, waiting for the end of her sentence. She had no worries, no stress at all. For her it was like a spa built by a control addict. Much better than that virtual reality where she had three kids.



-Ma'am, as you doctor, I must advise you. You've been coming here for more than a year. The system wasn't designed for such long periods. The side effects...

-Every morning I cook five breakfasts. I work four hours in a grocery store for a crappy salary. I drive my three sons to school and back home. At the afternoon, to their extracurriculars. I clean an iron the clothes for five. I barely have twenty minutes of adult conversation with my husband, at night, before he falls asleep or I do.- Doctor Pansky indicated her with a gesture of his hands to calm down. He had been raising her voice.- I'm sorry, but...

-Sharon, I get it, trust me. I'm just worried. You like this too much. I'd suggest you to...

-Doctor!- She was tired of all his crap.- I'm paying for this. Give me my two hours, or I'll find another supplier. Or, perhaps, I could call the police and tell them about your lack of legal permits.

-Ok, I get it. Come with me.



-Inmate S-15926. You have failed again your rehabilitation program. You systematically reject it every single time. Instead you kept benefiting of our daily rewards for good behavior. You are not acting according with the system's purposes, simply put. The terms of your sentence will be remodeled.

-What?- She was watching a cartoon movie for kids on her tablet and suddenly a human voice, probably the director of the prison came with that crap through the speaker.

-Shall we understand that you are failing to comply, inmate?

-No, sir. Thank you, for the remodelation. You know what is best for me.- Politeness and obedience always mandatory.- May I ask...?

-You may not.- He interrumpted.- I'll explain you the new terms.- She listened in startled horror, a tear would have ran down her cheek if the suit wouldn't have absorbed it.- Is that sad look a sign of rebellion, inmate?

-No, sir. It's, eh..., surprise because you understand so well my needs. Thank you very much, sir.- She was about to hyperventilate.

After lunch, at the hour in which she used to go to rehab, the guard came to pick her up. He was being transferred to the new location. From one of its fingers a needle popped up and it was inserted in the hole  on the back of her collar. It opened for the first time in years and the cable that went to her wrists hung down. Quickly the guard placed the new collar, with the same thickness but much wider, covering nearly all her neck and preventing her from turning around her head. The guard inserted again the needle and refitted the cable to her wrists in its proper slot. To her surprise the color of her suit changed to orange, the color of maximum security.

Then the guard led her to the elevator, in the middle of the hallway. Along the way she crossed paths with a pair of acquantances, who didn't greet her and turned their faces away. The elevator took her to the basement, where, as soon as the door opened, she noticed there was no light at all. The robot guard could see, she did not. She couldn't see that the room had the size of a tennis court. She was led to a compartment roughly the size of an old phone booth, which she couldn't see. Nor could she see the other ninety nine around her, half of which were occupied.

She stepped in and came up against a thick vertical metallic rod in the middle of the booth. The guard helped her in place, facing the wall opposite to the door. Surrounding the rod she was fixed to it thanks to one of the usual neck cuffs, plugged into her collar. More cuffs around her shins, thighs, abdomen, and upper arms were fixed. A metallic piece was connected to the crotch band of her chastity belt. A tube was inserted into her mouth and deeper into her throat. The guard didn't show any remorse when her gag reflex was triggered. A ball of a spongy material was inserted in her mouth along with the tube. Also, attached to the tube, a metallic mask was fitted on her mouth, two smaler tubes invading her nostrils. At last her head was equipped with a full face helmet, of the usual malleable metal. She noticed that her feet were standing over a soft padding and deduced that the whole booth was like that.

The guard left, locking the door shut behind it. Once alone a screen in front of her eyes was turned on. The spongy substance grew and filled her mouth making her cheeks bulge a bit. The helmet contracted unil it hugged her head perfectly, two plugs entering her ears. Same with the half face mask, All the cuffs that kept her pinned to the central rod tightened. The piece under her crotch raised slightly applying soft pressure and acting as sort of a bar stool.

-Inmate S-15926, the new rules willl be explained again, in case you had any doubt.- The cold computer voice sounded perfectly clear through her earplugs.- You'll spend a minimum of three months in maximum security. From now on the system will decide what will you watch, read, listen and with whom will you talk and for how long, based on your previous choices. The system will decide when and how much do you sleep. You rehabilitation program will grow a level of difficulty and your punishments for a failure will double.- If she was failing before, with a harder program her time sentence would undoubtedly lengthen. Your rewards for good behavior are cancelled, so your attention will be more focused on your duties.



-Sharon! Where are you going?- Her gossip neighbor had another question.

-I have a thing... A hobby.- That was her favorite day of the week. Those three hours she spent tied to a machine being someone else. Three hours of absolute peace.

-People are saying that you have a special friend. How is you marriage? Everything ok in the bed?

-Yes. Thank you. We are very happy.- They barely had twenty minutes each night to have a conversation between adults whose topic was not the last familiar emergency, before one of the two feel asleep. They hadn't had sex in months. Her only satisfying sexual experience in a long time had been in a virtual reality.



The bump in her chastity belt was sending another surge. It did for five minutes every two hours. It was very weak, almost like a tickle. Not enough to bring her over the edge. Not yet. She kept thinking on her boyfriend, on those moments together, but the current was too soft.

After each period, her pussy kept the memory of the last one. Her muscles still clenching on the bump, but its smooth surface wouldn't let her get enough friction. Therefor she was in a constant state of arousal. Always wanting more, always frustrated. And yet it couldn't be considered torture, because it was supposed to be a massage. It was her who wanted more.

She understood the system's purpose. In her virtual reality rehabilitation program she was a stressed wife and mother of three kids. As and added level of difficulty she now was a addict to some unespecified hobby. Another level of anxiety. In her real life, though, unfullfilled desire. The system was pushing her to go back to the prior arrangement. To accept her fate. Daily meager rewards for absolute obedience.

She didn't know anymore when was she fed. She didn't noticed the shower. Her arms and legs were nearly immobile. She didn't know how many years of incarcelation had to pay still. The movies she was allowed to watch were insubstantial. She could heard conversations in the chat but not reply. Nothing to worry about. Stripping her of the capacity for sexual release, she was even free of the burden of the pretension of fulfillment. She had nothing to do at all.

Her bondage was comfortable. Tranquil. Healthy. Relatively enjoyable. But she wouldn't abandon herself. As long as her limbo were going to be, she would be herself. In her cocoon, she would learn to fly. Somehow. Someday. The tickling started again in her loins. She pictured her boyfreind that last night. Her hobby. Her addiction.