The air still felt thick, weighed down by the echo of Madison’s screams. Ivy sat there, staring at the door to the Naughty Room, her mind racing. What had Madison meant? What secrets was she hiding?

Would she ever get the chance to ask?

A part of her doubted it although she had no reason to believe the contestant was gone for good.

Around them, the other contestants—shaken but eager to move on—slowly dissipated, their hushed murmurs fading as they shuffled away. Some still stole glances at the sealed door, their faces tight with unease, before turning their backs on it, pretending it wasn’t there.

Ivy and Finn did the same.

What else was there to do?

With a heavy sigh, Ivy shifted her weight, the massive bulk of her diaper squishing uncomfortably beneath her, and turned toward the hallway.

"Come on," Finn muttered, his voice still tense, as they crawled away.

The journey back to the living room was silent, neither of them speaking, both of them lost in thought.

But as they entered, Ivy immediately noticed something different.

The screen in the room glowed, its soft light casting an inviting yet unsettling glow over the group of babies gathered on the floor before it.

A message blinked gently at the bottom of the screen.

"BABIES, COME WATCH."

Ivy felt her stomach tighten.

She and Finn exchanged a wary glance before slowly crawling forward, joining the others as they settled onto the thickly padded floor.

The other babies barely acknowledged them, their attention glued to the massive display, their faces ranging from curiosity to concern.

Ivy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Behind them, Carter—along with the other caregivers—broke off toward a table in the back of the room, where they gathered in small clusters, chatting among themselves.

There are no screens for them.

Just the babies.

Ivy glanced at Finn again. What was this about?

Was this a message? Another lesson?

She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching uselessly in her mittens as the screen flickered—

Ivy settled into place beside Finn, the soft crinkle of her thick diaper barely noticeable beneath the weight of her racing thoughts. She couldn’t shake the image of Madison’s terrified eyes, the way she had begged, the raw betrayal in her voice when Carter had sealed her fate.

The other babies sat motionless, their gazes locked on the screen, drawn in by whatever message summoned them. The living room’s chatter faded into a tense silence.

Finn shifted beside her, his voice low. “I don’t like this.”

Ivy barely had time to agree before the screen pulsed, and the familiar syrupy voice of Mistress oozed through the speakers.

"Good evening, my precious little ones," Mistress purred. "Are you all comfy?"

The room remained silent.

Mistress chuckled softly, the sound dripping with amusement.

"I thought my babies might enjoy a little... story time."

Ivy stared at the screen, her pulse slowing, confusion muddling the fear that had been lingering in her chest since Madison’s disappearance.

The screen flickered, then smoothed out, revealing a bright, colorful title card that stretched across the massive display.

Soft, playful music began to chime. It was high-pitched and sickeningly sweet, the kind of tune that would be impossible to get out of your head.

The words "Naomi & Oliver’s Big Adventures!" bounced across the screen in bold, bubbly font, surrounded by tiny sparkles and swirls of pastel colors.

A moment later, two cartoon characters appeared.

First, a cheerful-looking girl twirled onto the screen, her golden pigtails bouncing and her wide, excited eyes shining like polished marbles. She wore an overly frilly pink dress, the skirt flaring out with each movement, revealing puffy, cloth diapers beneath.

Beside her, a grinning boy toddled forward—his short brown hair messy, his big green eyes playful. He wore blue overalls, the material snug around his waist, but even through the animation, Ivy could clearly see the unmistakable bulge beneath his clothes.

Their diapers were on full display, unashamed, normalized.

The two giggled and waved at the screen, their lilting voices saccharine and almost too perfect.

"Hi, friends!" Naomi chirped, bouncing in place. Her ruffled sleeves shook slightly as she clapped her hands together.

"Are you ready for another big adventure?" Oliver added, his voice just as chipper as hers.

Ivy felt her stomach churn.

The show wasn't real—not one she'd ever heard of.

That meant Mistress had created it.

She could already feel its insidious nature coiling around her, wrapping her up in its cute, friendly atmosphere and masking whatever lesson Mistress wanted them to absorb.

And she wasn’t the only one who felt it.

Around her, the other babies were stiff, their expressions unreadable, their gazes locked onto the screen.

A few looked too exhausted to care, too drained to fight whatever lesson Mistress was about to shove down their throats.

But Ivy?

Ivy refused to let her guard down.

She forced herself to keep watching as the cartoon continued. Behind Naomi and Oliver, a bright and cheerful landscape appeared.

Rolling green hills.

A shining blue sky.

And, in the distance, a massive white building—the shape of a nursery, oversized, looming, inescapable.

"Today, we're learning about being good babies!" Naomi announced, spinning again, her dress billowing.

Ivy’s throat tightened.

Finn shifted beside her, tense.

This wasn’t just a children’s show.

This was conditioning.

Ivy sat frozen, her breath shallow, her fingers curling against the soft padding of her mittens. Around her, the other babies began losing interest, the saccharine nature of the show too ridiculous to hold their attention. One by one, they crawled away, murmuring about how it was just another one of Mistress’s tricks—another way to humiliate them.

But Ivy couldn’t move.

She couldn’t look away.

Something wasn’t right.

On the screen, Naomi and Oliver beamed at the audience, standing in front of the massive, oversized nursery in the distance.

"Good babies always listen!" Naomi chirped, wiggling a finger at the screen.

"And they always do as they’re told," Oliver added, nodding eagerly.

"But what happens when a baby isn’t good?" Naomi asked, her big cartoonish eyes widening.

"Uh-oh!" Oliver gasped, covering his mouth. "Then they might end up just like... her!"

The screen shifted, the scene panning to the left, revealing another character—one who hadn’t been there before.

Ivy’s stomach dropped.

She stared at the screen, her mouth going dry, her blood turning to ice.

The character…

It was her.

Or at least, it was a caricature of her.

A cartoon version of herself, sitting in the middle of the nursery floor, her short black hair messy and sticking up in tufts, her eyes comically wide, her cheeks stained with tears.

But the most damning detail was what she was wearing.

Her animated self was dressed in a ridiculously thick diaper; the padding was so exaggerated that her legs were forced apart, keeping her seated in a helpless, undignified sprawl.

She wore a bib with the words "Fussy Baby!" across the front in big, bold letters.

And worst of all?

She was sucking furiously on a pacifier; her cartoon face twisted into an exaggerated pout, her mittens balled into fists as she flailed like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Oh no!" Naomi giggled, pointing at Ivy’s cartoon self. "Looks like someone forgot how to be a good baby!"

"Poor thing!" Oliver cooed, tilting his head sympathetically. "Maybe if she had been a good listener, she wouldn’t be in so much trouble!"

The cartoon Ivy let out a muffled wail, stomping her mittened fists against the floor as a shadow loomed over her.

Ivy felt bile rise in her throat.

She knew what was coming.

A pair of massive, gloved hands reached down from the top of the screen, scooping up cartoon Ivy with ease.

"Uh-oh!" Naomi sang. "Time for someone to learn a lesson!"

The scene cut abruptly, shifting to a different backdrop—one that made Ivy’s blood run cold.

The Naughty Room.

The cartoonish, overly exaggerated version of it, of course, but there was no mistaking it.

The walls glowed red.

The crib stood front and center, just like the real one.

And within it?

Cartoon Ivy was strapped down, spread-eagle, pacifier firmly in place.

Ivy’s breath hitched, her entire body breaking out in goosebumps.

The cartoon continued, mocking her, humiliating her, and turning her very real nightmare into a childish fable for the others to laugh at.

And yet…

She was the only one watching.

Truly watching, truly understanding.

The others had left.

Her hands trembled, her face burning with helpless rage as she stared at her punishment playing out like a bedtime story.

And then—

The cartoon version of Mistress appeared on the screen.

A faceless, towering figure, her long, gloved hands reaching down to tap the cartoon Ivy on the nose.

"You should have been a good baby," Mistress chided, her voice laced with amusement. "Now you’ll have to stay like this until you learn."

Ivy’s cartoon self sobbed, kicking her feet uselessly, her diaper crinkling loudly beneath her.

The scene faded, replaced with Naomi and Oliver standing outside the nursery once again, waving at the audience.

"Remember, friends! Good babies get cuddles, snacks, and fun!" Naomi chirped.

"But naughty babies..." Oliver giggled, shaking his head. "They end up just like her."

Naomi and Oliver shared a laugh, the screen fading to black, leaving Ivy trapped in suffocating silence.

She stared at the empty screen.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

This wasn’t just humiliation.

It was a threat; it had to be.

Finn stiffened beside her, his breath catching as the scene shifted once more.

Ivy barely had time to process her horror before the screen lit up again, this time showcasing another character.

Her stomach lurched.

It was Finn.

Or rather, a cartoon version of him—just as exaggerated, just as infantilized.

He was strapped into a massive highchair, his arms secured to the tray, his legs dangling helplessly, the telltale bulge of an overstuffed diaper visible beneath his shortalls.

His animated eyes were bright, his face rounder, more babyish than she had ever seen it.

"Good babies always eat all their food!" Naomi sang, skipping into view, holding a massive plastic bowl of lumpy, pale-green mush in her hands.

"And they say thank you when their caregivers feed them!"

The cartoon Finn giggled, kicking his feet eagerly as he opened his mouth wide, letting Naomi shove a heaping spoonful past his lips.

"Mmm!" Cartoon Finn chewed enthusiastically, his hands balling into tiny fists as Naomi continued to feed him.

Ivy felt her stomach twist.

This wasn’t just a general lesson.

This was targeted.

Direct.

Finn, beside her, wasn’t breathing.

"Good babies," Naomi continued sweetly, dipping the spoon into the mush and holding it up, waiting for Cartoon Finn to finish swallowing.

"Good babies eat everything their caregivers give them!"

She gave a mocking little giggle, and the animated Finn obediently opened his mouth again, accepting another huge spoonful.

But then—

A deep gurgle rumbled through the scene.

Ivy felt a wave of cold wash over her, dread sinking into her stomach.

Cartoon Finn’s expression changed his round, babyish face scrunching up.

A moment of silence.

Then—

A loud, unmistakable noise filled the air.

A wet squelch, followed by a long, drawn-out sigh of relief from the animated Finn.

Ivy felt Finn beside her seize up.

His hands clenched, his face burning red.

"And good babies use their diapers!" Naomi cooed, patting his head as he finished messing himself. His animated cheeks flushed with pleasure as he continued eating like nothing had happened.

"See?" Naomi chirped, turning to the audience. "No fussy faces, no potty breaks—just a happy, well-fed baby!"

Ivy forced herself to glance at Finn.

He was staring at the screen, his jaw locked so tightly it looked painful.

His hands trembled in his lap, humiliation radiating off him in waves.

Mistress wasn’t just showing them their fates.

She was planting them.

Embedding them.

Letting them see themselves this way, over and over, until they became it.

The screen faded to black, but the damage was done.

Ivy could still hear it—that sickeningly cheerful gurgle, the squelch, Finn’s cartoon sigh of relief.

Finn turned away from the screen, his fists clenched, his breathing heavy.

"I hate her," he muttered under his breath.

Ivy didn’t need to ask who he meant.

She just nodded, her own hands shaking.

The screen flickered again, and suddenly, it was just them.

Just her and Finn—or rather, their cartoon reflections.

Ivy's stomach twisted as she watched her animated counterpart, softer and rounder. Her wide, sparkling eyes filled with infantile contentment as she happily suckled on a pacifier.

Her cheeks were rosy, her hair perfectly styled in cute little pigtails, but what drew Ivy’s attention the most was the thick, sagging diaper wrapped around her waist, bulging unmistakably beneath the hem of her childish dress.

She was… happy.

Blissful.

Like she had never known any other way to be.

Ivy felt nauseous.

Naomi’s syrupy voice cut through the silence, her smile growing as she turned toward the audience.

"Good babies," she chirped, gesturing toward Ivy’s cartoon self, "get rewarded!"

But then—

The screen flashed, shifting to Finn’s character.

Except he wasn’t smiling anymore.

His big, babyish eyes were wide with alarm, his cheeks burning as he was hauled over Oliver’s lap, his arms flailing uselessly.

"But bad babies?" Naomi cooed, placing a hand on her hip as Oliver raised a firm, open palm.

"Bad babies get punished."

CRACK.

The sound of the animated spanking echoed through the room, a cheery little jingle playing in the background as Oliver’s palm connected with Finn’s padded backside.

Finn’s cartoon face contorted, his legs kicking, but it was all exaggerated, all infantilized—like he was nothing more than a misbehaving toddler being corrected.

Ivy stole a glance at Finn.

His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on the screen, but he looked like he wanted to crawl onto the floor and disappear.

The cartoon Finn let out a sniffly, exaggerated whimper, and then—

"Bad babies get put in time-out!"

The screen jumped again, and Ivy watched in horror as Finn’s animated counterpart was dragged off-screen, Oliver effortlessly carrying him under one arm, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.

And then…

It was just Ivy’s character again.

Still smiling.

Still suckling.

She was still content in her full, swollen diaper as if she had never known anything else.

As if she had never wanted to.

The title card flashed one last time, the cheerful theme song playing once more, and then—

The credits rolled.

Names she didn’t recognize.

Producers that likely didn’t exist.

And then—

Darkness.

The screen faded to black, leaving behind nothing but the quiet, humming silence of the room.

Ivy felt cold all over, her breath shallow, her mind racing.

Beside her, Finn sat completely still, his hands trembling in his lap.

Ivy and Finn exchanged uneasy glances. A heavy silence settled between them as the screen remained dark, the cartoon’s cheerful echoes still ringing in Ivy’s ears.

That was… something.

A warning? A promise?

She didn’t know, but her stomach churned with unease.

But there was nothing else, no explanation, no follow-up from Mistress.

Just… them, sitting there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by crawling, diapered contestants, some chatting, some playing, some just huddled in quiet corners, lost in thought.

This was their life now.

The padded play area stood nearby. It was bright and inviting, filled with cushioned mats, plush toys, and oversized blocks. To Ivy’s mild surprise, several other contestants had already occupied it.

Some were lounging idly, others were halfheartedly stacking blocks, and a few were just lying back, staring at the ceiling as if completely drained from today’s horrors.

With nothing better to do, Ivy and Finn crawled over, awkwardly maneuvering through the thick padding as they approached the group.

Finn cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“So, uh… did you guys catch that cartoon?”

One of the boys, lazily stacking blocks, glanced up.

“Huh?”

“The cartoon,” Ivy pressed. “With Naomi and Oliver? You know, the one that just played?”

A few contestants exchanged glances, but most of them just shrugged.

“Didn’t really watch it,” a girl muttered, poking absently at a stuffed bear. “Why would I?”

Another snorted, shifting on the padded floor. “Figured it was just more of Mistress’s mind games.”

A boy leaned back on his elbows, looking utterly indifferent. “Wasn’t gonna give her the satisfaction.”

Ivy felt a prickle of frustration.

Had no one been paying attention?!

Did no one else see what she and Finn had seen?

It had been them on the screen.

Not just random characters.

Them.

Their faces.Their fate.

And yet, no one seemed to care.

No one seemed bothered.

Finn met Ivy’s eyes, his expression mirroring her unease.

Ivy and Finn had been sitting in silence, trying to regain their nerves after the bizarre cartoon, their bodies still aching from the trials. The playpen full of babies chattered quietly, the hum of conversation a dull backdrop against their swirling thoughts. Then—

A sharp voice shattered the quiet.

"I’m sorry, what did you just call me?"

Ivy and Finn both turned toward the sound, their stomachs dropping as they saw a tall girl, her entire body tensed with rage. She was a caregiver, her fists clenched at her sides, staring down a boy with a sneering smirk plastered across his face.

"You heard me," he spat, crossing his arms. "Brat."

The girl lunged.

With both hands, she shoved him—HARD—sending him stumbling back against a wooden shelving unit with a loud thud. The entire room went still.

Other caregivers turned to watch, a few taking hesitant steps forward. The babies froze in place, even those who had been distracted playing now, craning their necks to see.

The boy pushed himself off the shelving, rolling his shoulders. He didn’t run. He didn’t cower. Instead, he stepped forward, fists raised, smirking.

A fighter.

The girl bared her teeth, her nostrils flaring, and then the two were on each other.

She swung first. He ducked. Her fist barely missed his jaw, but he caught her by the waist and shoved, sending them both tumbling to the floor. They rolled—grappling, snarling, limbs flailing.

Ivy's breath hitched as they slammed into the shelving unit again. This time, something fell.

A pair of sleek, black goggles tumbled from the top shelf, bouncing onto the ground beside them.

The boy saw them.

Grinned.

And in an instant, he snatched them up, shoving the girl onto her back, pinning her wrists.

"You can’t fight that well if you can’t see, huh?" he taunted, laughing as he forced the goggles over her eyes. The lenses flashed bright blue for half a second.

Then—

She went completely still.

Her arms flopped uselessly to the sides.

The smirk dropped from his face. "Huh?"

For a long, agonizing moment—she didn’t move.

The fight, the tension, the raw fury that had burned in her seconds ago—gone.

The boy remained perched over her, chest heaving, hands still half-clenched into fists. He expected her to thrash, to snarl, to shove him off.

But she didn’t.

Her breath slowed. Her body relaxed.

Ivy felt her heart hammering in her ears.

It was wrong.

The girl’s expression—wrong.

Her lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. Too slow. Too even.

The boy's brow furrowed, his smirk flickering. “Uh—okay, come on.”

He tapped her cheek, light at first, then harder. No response.

His grin fully dropped. He snapped his fingers in front of her face. Nothing.

His stomach clenched. What the hell was this?

"Hey." He gave her a shake.

Still nothing.

Then—

A strange, breathy giggle bubbled from her throat.

A childish, light, airy giggle.

Not hers.

Not real.

A shiver crawled up Ivy’s spine as the girl blinked up at him, pupils blown wide, unfocused through the goggles.

The boy jerked back slightly. His hands trembled.

Her eyes weren’t seeing anything.

He lifted a shaking hand and snapped his fingers again.

No reaction.

Another giggle. Too sweet. Too wrong.

Then, her lips curled into a wide, vacant grin.

The room was dead silent.

Ivy couldn't breathe.

"Stop." The boy’s voice was quiet. Unsteady.

The girl clapped her hands together.

"Hey, come on, stop it." His voice cracked slightly.

She let out a delighted coo.

Ivy’s stomach twisted.

He leaned in slightly, shaking her shoulder. "This isn't funny, wake up."

She giggled again. Sweet, empty, mindless.

Then—the babbling began.

Pure, garbled, infantile nonsense.

Like a baby learning to talk.

The boy scrambled off her, sitting back on his heels. "No. No, no, no." His voice had gone hoarse, almost frantic. "Come on. Snap out of it."

He shoved her shoulder again. Harder.

She sucked her thumb.

She wiggled her hips in her diaper.

The boy let out a shaky breath, hands trembling.

What the hell was happening?

He hesitated. Then, hands almost fumbling, he yanked the goggles off her face.

She blinked.

A second passed.

Another.

Then—

A sharp inhale, a squeal of glee—

She clapped her hands again, kicking her feet, as if she had just noticed him for the first time.

A line of drool slipped down her chin.

And then came more babbling.

Pure, incoherent baby babble.

A horrified hush fell over the room. Ivy's stomach twisted. 

A wet, muffled noise filled the silence—from here, Ivy could hear the girl filling her diaper.

The boy scrambled backward on his hands and knees, eyes wide with horror. 

She cooed.

She sucked her thumb.

She wiggled her hips in her soiled diaper, completely unaware of the tension in the air.

Then—the mechanical arms came.

They slithered from the walls, extending toward her.

The girl giggled as they scooped her up, cradling her like an oversized infant.

Drool slipped down her chin as she squealed with delight.

The boy scrambled back further, shaking his head. "No. No, wait—what’s happening?!"

The access panel in the wall slid open.

The girl let out a joyous, garbled squeal—

—and then she was gone.

The panel shut behind her with a cold, metallic snap.

Silence.

Ivy gripped Finn’s arm. Hard.

No one moved.

Then, slowly—the screen flickered to life.

A cheerful chime echoed through the room.

A loud, cheerful ding! Echoed through the room, and the jackpot counter, once still, began to climb.

$1,750,000… $1,800,000… $1,875,000.

And then—it stopped.

Ivy’s stomach twisted violently.

She didn’t need Mistress’s voice to tell her what had just happened.

Someone was gone.

Another contestant had left the games.

And from the way the boy trembled, staring at his shaking hands, from the way the girl didn’t seem to react, Ivy knew—

This hadn’t been an elimination.

Her mind had been wiped, or, so it seemed.

The boy sat there, frozen, his entire body trembling as the reality of what had just happened settled over him. His hands twitched, curled into fists, and then unclenched again as if he couldn’t decide what to do with them.

And then, his breath hitched.

A horrible, wet gag tore from his throat as he doubled over, his body convulsing violently before he gagged, nearly retching all over the floor.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

All eyes turned to the boy.

He had finished retching, but he wasn’t okay. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath turning sharp and uneven. A horrible, ragged sound tore from his throat as he gripped his hair, his fingers shaking as he rocked back and forth.

His eyes were wild.

A deep, animalistic panic overtook him, and before anyone could react—

He ran.

Bolted.

Ivy barely caught a glimpse of him sprinting through the room, pushing past other contestants. His bare feet slapped against the cold floor.

Moments later, a mechanical chime sounded, and Mistress’s voice slid over the speakers.

"Contestant 19 has forfeited the Trials. How disappointing."

Another ding.

The jackpot counter ticked up once more.

$1,900,000.

Thirty-four contestants remain.

And then—

Silence.

No more screaming.

No more fighting.

Just the oppressive, suffocating weight of what had just happened.

Ivy exhaled, feeling her entire body shake.

"What the actual fuck just happened?"

No one answered.

No one could answer.

They sat there, frozen, their bodies locked in place by the sheer shock of it all. Ivy looked around, seeing the same numb, horrified expressions on every face.

The realization settled like a dead weight in her stomach.

They had just witnessed someone’s mind being wiped clean.

And another contestant had fled in terror, choosing elimination over staying another second in this nightmare.

Ivy’s breathing quickened, her pulse hammering against her ribs like a caged animal trying to escape. Her hands trembled against the floor, her thickly padded bottom still planted where she sat.

Her gaze darted wildly around the room, expecting at any moment—

For something.

For someone.

For the next blow to fall.

For Mistress to make her next move.

Fear crept in, and dark tendrils wrapped around her lungs and curled tight around her heart, blinding her and suffocating her.

She didn’t even realize her body was shaking until she felt something warm wrap around her.

Finn.

His arms encased her, pulling her in close.

His voice, steady and sure, murmured in her ear.

"It’s okay."

"I’ve got you."

Ivy felt herself melt into him, burying her face against his shoulder, her hands clutching onto his sleeper like a lifeline.

The panic ebbed slightly, retreating just enough for her to breathe.

She wasn’t sure if anything was actually okay.

But at this moment, wrapped in Finn’s arms, she could almost pretend.

Finn held her close, his arms a steady anchor as Ivy fell apart.

Her sobs racked her body, shaking her to her core, raw and unrestrained, the sheer weight of everything finally too much to hold inside. The fear. The humiliation. The exhaustion.

Every degrading moment, every whispered doubt, every terrifying uncertainty— it all crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning her.

She burrowed her face into Finn’s chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeper, clutching him as though he were the only solid thing in a world that was spiraling out of control.

Finn didn’t say a word.

He just held her.

His arms remained firm around her, grounding her, his palm slowly rubbing circles on her back.

A quiet, soothing rhythm.

His breath was steady, even calm.

Ivy couldn’t stop.

The dam had broken.

Sobs spilled from her lips, ugly and raw, her chest heaving.

Tears soaked into Finn’s sleeper, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t shush her or tell her to stop.

He just let her cry.

Let her finally feel it.

Let her release everything she had bottled up inside.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Maybe longer.

But eventually, her sobs began to slow, tapering into soft sniffles and trembling breaths.

Her body still shook, but the storm inside her had settled—just a little.

Finn pressed his chin to the top of her head, his voice quiet but firm.

"You don’t have to carry all of this alone, Ivy."

His words nearly made her break down all over again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, another shaky breath escaping her lips.

Ivy sniffled, rubbing the heels of her palms against her damp cheeks, her breath still unsteady. But as the last of her tears dried, a new realization settled over her—

She wasn’t the only one unraveling.

All around her, the room wasn’t the same.

The tension wasn’t just in her mind.

She could see it—in every hunched shoulder, every hollow stare, every clenched jaw.

Contestants sat stiffly, shifting uncomfortably, their hands curled into fists. Some avoided eye contact entirely, staring vacantly at the floor, their thoughts undoubtedly spiraling. Others watched the door where the girl had vanished, their expressions a mix of dread and silent calculation.

Fear.

Humiliation.

Frustration.

It was boiling beneath the surface, simmering in the air.

They were all cracking, their minds being ground down beneath Mistress’s relentless torment. And she was watching, always watching, stirring the pot with delight as they teetered on the edge.

This wasn’t just a game.

It was a pressure cooker.