Omnitech Corporation

The contrast between the austerity of the hallway and the luxury of the room that opens before me is striking. The subdued lighting, the tastefully arranged velvet armchairs, and the rich, intoxicating scent of coffee that fills my nostrils awaken in me an elemental desire, but one that is now inaccessible. What wouldn't I give to be able to savor even just a simple cup...

In the center, the polished wooden central station dominates the scene, imposing and elegant, surrounded by small, finely decorated niches. A few Pet Vibes play joyfully in the middle of the room, their outfits similar to mine but varying in ears and tail. Their apparent cheerfulness leaves me puzzled: are they truly happy, or are their smiles just masks hiding resigned apathy?

Without delay, Keller raises his hand to greet a man sitting not far from the center, quietly sipping his coffee. His imposing build contrasts with his impeccable attire, each movement exuding solid confidence. Gary Hunter, Pet Vibe administrator and long-time colleague of Keller, stands up and approaches us, his serious, scrutinizing gaze immediately falling on me.

"Gary, let me introduce you to Zoey, our new recruit," Keller announces, with a hint of respect in his voice. Hunter nods silently, his gaze not leaving mine. He's strong and stocky, with a closed face that seems unaccustomed to smiles. "Welcome, Zoey," he says in a deep, almost rough voice, conveying both natural authority and a form of weariness.

"I'll take it from here, Sebastian," he declares straightforwardly. "You can go." His tone is direct, devoid of any unnecessary formality. Keller nods. "Good, don't worry, Zoey. Gary will instruct you well, I'm sure of it." He gives me one last smile, almost sincere, before leaving.

Hunter crosses his arms over his chest, observing me in silence for a moment, as if trying to assess my ability to follow the rules with just one look. "Listen carefully, Zoey," he begins in a sharp tone, "I'm in charge here, and I tolerate no deviation. Here, your mission is clear: you obey, you entertain, and you stay within the limits of your space." He gestures towards the central station with a nod of his chin. "This will be your reference point. You can move around it, but if your collar beeps, it means you're too close to the boundary. And believe me, you don't want to know what happens if you cross it."

I nod, my heart pounding. Hunter stares at me a moment longer, then his expression softens slightly, as if he's made a decision. "Before you start, I'll show you the different areas you might use." Then, without further ado, he signals me to follow, guiding me through the room.

Without wasting time, Hunter leads me to the bar along the left wall. His movements are precise, his stride firm, contrasting with my hesitant and clumsy steps. "Let's start with the bar," he announces in a neutral tone, pointing to the counter. "Executives come here to order their drinks. The Utility Beverage Stand Consultants handle the service, but their arms, facial expressions, and even their mouths are completely sealed, stripping them of any communication ability. That's what sets them apart from your category."

I look away, discreetly observing the Utility Consultants. Their masked faces and rigid postures exude an inhuman coldness, as if they've already become machines. A sense of unease settles in me. Gary, as if sensing my discomfort, adds: "It's not visible, but to ensure service continuity, they have a reservoir on their back with several compartments that automatically feeds them and evacuates waste."

I swallow hard, trying to process this information. Behind their maid costumes lies a dreadful technology, reducing these women to mere automatons. The idea that these still, silent bodies hold a trapped piece of humanity under this mechanical yoke chills my blood. Their existence, both fascinating and terrifying, is a cruel reminder of what it means to be stripped of one's humanity. A shiver runs through me, and I look away, unable to bear this vision of what I could become.

Gary then leads me to the private booths, located all around the room. Each booth is isolated from the rest of the lounge by elegant partitions, with solid wood doors. He pushes one of the doors, and we enter an enclosed space where thick curtains and soundproofed walls ensure total privacy for executives and their guests.

The interior is simply furnished but designed for absolute comfort. A plush leather couch dominates the center, accompanied by several accessories neatly arranged on a low table: silk scarves, velvet ropes, and various silicone toys, each with a specific purpose. A metal structure, fixed to the ceiling, is equipped with hooks and straps, leaving little to the imagination about their use.

"Here, executives can choose the type of interaction they want," Gary explains in a detached tone. "It can range from a simple moment of relaxation, like a cuddle, to more... sophisticated games." He approaches the metal structure and gestures towards the hooks. "Suspension, bondage... it all depends on what they want."

I swallow, a lump forming in my throat. The space, though empty, seems imbued with palpable tension. I can't help but imagine the scenes that might unfold here, the helplessness of the Pet Vibes against the whims of the executives.

Gary turns to me, his gaze impenetrable. "Your role is simple: adapt and obey. Whether it's for a moment of tenderness or something more... intense, you must always be ready to meet their expectations."

He pauses, his eyes scrutinizing me intently, then adds in an almost casual tone: "And be prepared, because it's very likely you'll be tested here very soon. Executives like to... evaluate new recruits on their first day." A cold shiver runs through me, and my heart beats faster at the thought.

"Your collar is also connected to an alarm that triggers automatically if your heart rate becomes abnormal," he continues, as if commenting on the weather. "That's the only way for me to know if you're having a problem here. But remember, your priority remains to satisfy the executives, whatever their demands."

He gently closes the booth door, leaving me for a moment facing the empty room, my heart heavy. The space, though quiet for now, seems already to haunt me with what might happen here, and the thought of what awaits me grips my chest like a vise.

Gary then leads me to a large bay window, which he opens with a firm push. We step into the Private Garden, a meticulously designed space with gravel paths, exotic flower beds, and sculpted trees offering shade and intimacy. The softness of the air sharply contrasts with the oppression inside, but the respite is short-lived.

I quickly notice a Pet Vibe positioned near a bush. An executive stands beside her, a smirk on his lips. "Go on, do it," he encourages her in a falsely gentle tone. The Pet Vibe hesitates for a moment, then, under his insistent gaze, awkwardly lifts one leg to the side, her posture like that of a dog marking its territory. She begins to urinate, her face twisted with humiliation. The executive bursts into laughter, then claps, drawing the attention of other executives who approach to watch the scene.

My stomach knots at this sight. The Pet Vibe's gaze briefly meets mine, a flicker of distress mixed with resignation in her eyes. Gary, standing beside me, watches the scene without flinching. "This is the only way for them to relieve themselves during service," he explains in a neutral tone. "Executives enjoy controlling them, even in their most basic needs. Here, everything is subject to their will."

I feel myself faltering, my mind rebelling at the thought of having to submit to this degrading ritual myself. "What if I can't do it?" I whisper in a trembling, almost inaudible voice.

Gary turns his gaze to me, impassive. "You'll manage, Zoey. They'll make sure you do. It’s their way of showing you that every aspect of your life belongs to them." His tone is unrelenting, as if stating a universal truth. "They'll always show you that there's no such thing as 'the worst.'"

I shiver, the meaning of his words slowly infiltrating my mind. The idea that this humiliation could just be a starting point, that there's always a more degrading level of submission, paralyzes me. I look away, feeling nausea rise. The garden, with its deceptive beauty, suddenly becomes a place of torment. The thought of having to submit to this under the contemptuous gaze of executives crushes me from within.

Gary leads me back to the center of the Pet Coffee Shop, where the Pet Vibes gather around the central station. As we get closer, I better see the figures kneeling or on all fours, each in a posture of rest or interaction. Most are very pretty, with harmonious and graceful forms, their appearance carefully maintained to match the company's aesthetic standards.

"Here's Zoey," Gary announces to the others. His authoritative voice immediately draws their attention. The Pet Vibes straighten up, some timidly lifting their eyes to me, others keeping their gaze fixed on the ground. "She's a new recruit. She'll start today."

He glances at me, then points out some of the Pet Vibes, introducing them one by one. "That's Linda," he says, indicating a Pet Vibe with copper hair, wearing a headband with rabbit ears. "She's our oasis of gentleness. She's very appreciated by stressed executives seeking solace."

Linda gives me a quick look, a sweet but tired smile stretching her lips. I nod awkwardly back, unsure what to say. Gary continues, pointing out another Pet Vibe, brunette with fox ears. "Here's Ashley. Her exceptional flexibility makes her highly sought after for more... spectacular role-plays." Ashley meets my gaze with a hint of defiance, as if trying to gauge my determination.

"And there's Clara," he adds, pointing to another smaller, nervous-looking Pet Vibe with cat ears. "She's excellent in interactive games and more dynamic activities. She has a sharp mind, which the executives who like to test her appreciate a lot." Clara looks down, playing with her hands, clearly uncomfortable.

"There's also Roxy, whom you've seen and who's always on a walk, and Alexa, currently occupied in a booth. Actually, she's been there for quite a while..." Gary lets his sentence hang, his gaze lost in thought for a moment.

I observe each of them, trying to memorize their names and roles. The diversity of their specialties and behaviors strikes me. Each seems seasoned, having found a way, willing or not, to adapt to this oppressive environment.

Gary speaks again, his tone becoming more direct. "You're here to interact and entertain the executives, but also to create a warm and dynamic atmosphere. Executives enjoy seeing you have fun or collaborate. When you're not solicited, you must stay active. Play, exchange, do what's expected of you."

The Pet Vibes nod in silence, like obedient students. I feel even more lost. How could I fit into this already well-oiled group? My thoughts scatter as I try to understand how they manage to maintain this mask of submission and acceptance. But I reassure myself, thinking that with time, I too will harden...

"Alright, introductions are done, you can return to your duties," Gary exclaims. The group disperses, leaving us alone again. "It's time to talk about the rules of com..." His sentence remains unfinished as a shrill alarm sounds from his phone. "Shit!"

Gary rushes toward the booth, his swift movements betraying palpable urgency. He unlocks the door with unaccustomed feverishness, then abruptly pulls back the curtains. The scene that unfolds is a true nightmare.