Morri's eyelids fluttered open, the world around her a blurry haze of white walls and dim lighting. Her muscles ached, and her mind was foggy from the hours of relentless stimulation and chemicals in her system.

She tried to move, but immediately realized she was restrained, tightly bound to a cold, metal cart that creaked under her weight. Her legs were strapped tightly together with thick straps that dug into her latex-clad skin. Her arms were encased in an arm binder, forcing her elbows together behind her back. A collar encircled her neck, attached to the frame of the cart, keeping her head upright and her body in place. The electrostimulation equipment from earlier was still attached, the wires leading to a portable power supply mounted on the cart, and a vibrational device was nestled between her legs, humming faintly on a low setting.

"What... what the hell?" she murmured, her voice hoarse from hours of moaning during the trial. For a brief moment, clarity returned: she remembered the FMI facility, the endless experiments, and Quinn's cold efficiency. Her reminiscing was interrupted as the door to the room hissed open, and Quinn entered.

She was clad in her own latex outfit and now wore her own gas mask, protecting her from any residual fumes that had ravaged Morri. In her hands, Quinn held another mask, this one with a tinted visor, connected to hoses that trailed behind her.
“Oh, good, you're awake," Quinn said, her voice muffled and authoritative through the mask's speech diaphragm.

She held up the other gas mask and secured it over Morri's face with expert hands. The rubber seal pressed tightly against her skin, and Morri felt the immediate rush of ”air” through the mask. A gas that smelled faintly sweet and chemical-ly.

The sedative dulled her thoughts, "Quinn, wait… please, I don't want… " Morri slurred, her protest cut short as the gas took hold, turning her words into a needy whimper.

Without a word, Quinn wheeled the cart into motion, guiding Morri down a long corridor lined with marked cells. Each one was labeled with numbers and sealed behind opaque doors, hinting at other subjects trapped in their own cycles of testing. Morri's cart rattled over the floor, the vibrations adding to the devices on her body, forcing soft gasps from her lips.

Her own cell, marked 7697, was somewhere halfway in the hall. Once there, Quinn maneuvered the cart to the center of the padded room and began the process of transferring Morri. "Alright, let's get you settled," Quinn said, her tone almost conversational. This was just routine for her. She unstrapped Morri from the cart and wasted no time in restraining her again. Morri's legs were secured to the floor anchors, her arm binder locked to a post behind her, and the collar adjusted to keep her head steady. The electrostimulation equipment remained in place, its portable power supply now connected to the cell's systems for uninterrupted operation.

Next, Quinn attached new gas lines from the cell's ventilation system directly to Morri's mask. The hoses clicked into place with a secure seal, ensuring a constant supply of the gas mixture. She then clipped a display visor over Morri's mask, ready to flood her vision with hypnotic patterns and subliminal messages for "reprogramming."

Quinn stepped back, adjusting her own gas mask for a better fit. "Alright, number 7697," she said, using Morri's assigned designation with a hint of mockery. "Enjoy yourself. This is just the next phase, building endurance and... loyalty. I'll be stepping out for a bit to talk to an old friend of yours about settling those debts. Miss Yakedo, I believe? You'll be pleased to know everything will be... taken care of."

The name drop hit Morri like a bolt of lightning, snapping her out of the gas-induced haze for a split second. Images flashed through her mind: the threatening messages, the towering debt, the fear of what that woman could do.

"No! Not her… You can't! Please, Quinn, don't…" Morri cried out, her voice distorted by her mask, her body straining against the restraints. The shock of fear surged through her, momentarily overriding the drugs, but it was too late.

With a swift motion, Quinn opened the gas valves fully, flooding Morri's mask with a thicker stream of the sedative-arousal blend. The display visor flickered to life, filling Morri's vision with swirling colors and whispered commands, pulling her into a drone-like state. Her struggles faded, replaced by a vacant stare and rhythmic breaths, her body once again surrendering to the relentless stimulation. The electrodes pulsed, the vibrations intensified, and the gases wove their spell, removing any fear or thought.

Quinn watched for a moment, satisfied, before shutting the opaque cell door. The room sealed shut, leaving Morri alone in her haze. As Quinn walked away, her gas mask still in place, she pulled out her phone to arrange the meeting with Miss Yakedo. Morri's debts were about to be "settled” one way or another.

—
A commission for napalmsavage77 on X featuring two of their OCs.

A quick question for my dear viewers: Would you like me to upload more frequently, and if so, on which day(s)? Currently, I upload one thing on Fridays. If you have suggestions or thoughts, please let me know.

This potential change is spurred on by my making a bit more art over the past few weeks, and thus, ever-increasing the backlog as I only post once per week.

Unfortunately, due to PayPal being a bit too high-risk for my liking at the moment, my commissions will be closed until further notice.