As Ivy stepped into the cribs area, leaving the trial room behind, the tension in her shoulders eased slightly. The bright, sterile lights of the nursery felt almost calming after the chaos of the trial, though the lingering weight of humiliation still hung heavily in the air. Her gaze flicked to the glowing screen that listed her assignments for the day: Contestant 36, a boy, and Contestant 56, a girl.

She spotted the pair quickly. The boy stood awkwardly by a crib, his cheeks tinged pink, but he offered her a small, hesitant smile as she approached. On the other hand, the girl was pacing angrily, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and a deep scowl was etched on her face.

Ivy forced a smile, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation. “Hi,” she said gently. “I’m Ivy. Looks like I’ll be your caregiver today.”

The boy shuffled forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Jamie,” he said, his voice soft but kind.

Ivy nodded, grateful for his easygoing demeanor. “Nice to meet you, Jamie,” she replied warmly. She turned to the girl, who glared at her, her jaw tight.

“And you are?” Ivy prompted, keeping her tone light.

The girl’s scowl deepened. “I’m not telling you,” she snapped, her arms tightening around herself. “Just change me already. This diaper is disgusting.”

Ivy blinked, taken aback by the hostility. She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I get it. This whole thing is awful,” she said softly, trying to soothe her. “But I’m not your enemy here. I just want to help.”

The girl scoffed, turning her head away. “Yeah, right.”

Jamie shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two. Ivy resisted the urge to snap back, instead taking a calming breath. “Look, I know it’s not ideal,” she said, her voice steady. “But we have to work with what we’ve got. Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay?”

The girl glared at her for a moment before finally rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered.

Ivy nodded, relieved to have avoided a full-blown argument. She gestured toward the changing room, leading the way with Jamie and the reluctant girl. She could feel the girl’s hostility radiating off her, but she resolved to stay patient. The day was far from over, and keeping the peace was the only way to survive this twisted game.

As Ivy led Jamie and the girl toward the changing room, she tried to break the tension by asking, “So, what do you two do outside of… well, this?” She gestured vaguely at the cribs and pastel surroundings, her voice light but genuinely curious.

Jamie glanced at her, his face softening slightly. “I’m a student,” he said quietly. “Second year in college. I’m studying mechanical engineering.”

Ivy offered him a small smile. “That’s impressive. Sounds like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

He gave a modest shrug, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The girl, however, stayed silent, her arms still crossed as she followed them with an irritated expression. Ivy glanced back at her, arching a brow. “And what about you?”

The girl huffed, rolling her eyes. “None of your business,” she muttered.

Ivy sighed but chose not to push further. They arrived at the changing room, the door sliding open with a soft chime. “Welcome, Caregiver 24. Babies 34 and 56, please proceed.” The cheerful, automated voice grated on Ivy’s nerves, but she stepped inside, feeling Jamie and the girl follow hesitantly behind her.

Her eyes immediately darted toward the section marked for caregivers, the promise of a clean pull-up and relief almost magnetic. She shifted uncomfortably as the mess in her diaper squished with the movement, making her stomach churn. She desperately needed a change, but Jamie and the girl were her responsibility now.

She turned to Jamie, forcing herself to focus. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up first,” she said, gesturing toward one of the tables.

Before Jamie could respond, the girl stepped forward, climbing onto the table with a defiant glare. “I’ll go first,” she announced, her tone daring Ivy to challenge her.

Ivy blinked, her surprise quickly giving way to irritation. She stepped closer, her voice low but firm. “Not so fast.” The girl froze, her glare faltering slightly as Ivy leaned in. “If you don’t start behaving,” Ivy said evenly, her gaze locked on hers, “I’ll ensure you end up in the Naughty Room. Is that what you want?”

The girl’s eyes widened, her confidence flickering with doubt. “You… you can’t do that,” she stammered, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her uncertainty.

“Try me,” Ivy replied, her tone icy but controlled. She wasn’t sure if she had the authority to send someone to the Naughty Room, but the girl didn’t need to know that.

After a tense pause, the girl huffed and climbed back down, muttering. Ivy exhaled slowly, her patience wearing thin but intact. “Thank you,” she said simply, motioning for Jamie to take the table.

Jamie hesitated momentarily before stepping forward, offering Ivy a small, grateful smile as he climbed up. Ivy nodded to him, her resolve strengthening. 

Jamie climbed onto the table, laying back with a resigned sigh as the restraints automatically snapped into place around his wrists and ankles. He grimaced, his cheeks flushing deeply as his wet diaper came into view, the sleeper peeling open with a soft mechanical hum. The table’s efficiency only seemed to heighten the humiliation.

Ivy wasted no time, popping the tabs of his soaked diaper and quickly cleaning him. Her hands moved with practiced precision, but something caught her eye as she reached for the button to dispense a fresh diaper. The interface offered various options, including a toggle for multiple layers.

Her fingers hovered over the choice, her mind flickering with an idea. With a grin tugging at the corner of her lips, she selected just one layer for Jamie, curious about the options available.

Ivy's brow furrowed slightly when the fresh diaper slid into the dispenser tray. It looked familiar but was undeniably thicker than the previous diapers. She picked it up, feeling its texture and weight—it was thicker and wider, clearly designed to limit movement further.

“Interesting,” she muttered, studying it longer before shaking off her curiosity. Jamie shifted uncomfortably on the table, his face burning as Ivy powdered him and pulled the new diaper into place. She fastened the tabs snugly at the front, ensuring a secure fit.

As Ivy finished, she stepped back, expecting the table to release Jamie. Instead, the table emitted a soft mechanical hum, and Jamie grunted in surprise. “What the—what’s happening?” he asked, his voice tinged with alarm.

Ivy frowned, her gaze snapping to the table. The mechanism was zipping his sleeper back up, but something new was happening. Two fabric mittens extended from the sides of the table, latching onto his hands and forcing them into tight, padded fists. The mittens were attached directly to the fabric of his sleeper, rendering his hands completely useless as the zipper sealed him up.

Jamie flexed his arms, trying in vain to move his hands. “Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed, his cheeks flushing even redder. “What is this?”

Ivy stared, her curiosity and unease growing. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her eyes narrowing as she examined the mittens. They were thickly padded, clearly meant to keep his hands immobile. She reached out, touching the fabric, which was securely attached and integrated seamlessly with the sleeper.

“Great,” Jamie muttered, sighing as the restraints finally released him. He sat up awkwardly, holding his now-useless hands in front of him. “This just keeps getting better.”

As Jamie started climbing down from the table, he grunted softly, his gait awkward. “This thing feels thicker,” he muttered, shifting his weight as his legs splayed slightly. “It’s forcing my legs apart.”

Ivy nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It is,” she admitted. “They’re thicker than before—probably designed to make movement even harder.”

Jamie groaned, shaking his head in frustration. “Great. Just great.”

Before Ivy could respond, the room began filling with other caregivers and their assigned babies, the soft murmur of voices and the occasional mechanical hum of the tables filling the air. Ivy glanced toward the door to the next room, noting that some caregivers were already heading inside. The thought of leaving the changing room and finally getting herself cleaned up was tempting—desperately so.

But her assigned girl had other plans. She had already climbed onto the table Jamie had vacated, her face a mix of defiance and irritation as the restraints clicked into place. She grumbled under her breath, her glare fixed straight ahead as though daring Ivy to leave her there.

Ivy hesitated, her frustration bubbling. A small, vindictive part of her wanted to walk away, to leave the girl strapped to the table for a little while longer as payback for her earlier attitude. But she knew firsthand how awful it was to be stuck in a soiled diaper.

Sighing heavily, Ivy stepped forward. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” she muttered, her voice edged with fatigue.

The girl’s sleeper peeled back, and Ivy blinked as her state was revealed. Her bare chest heaved with frustrated breaths, but it was the sight of her diaper that made Ivy falter. The fabric was bulging and discolored, and as Ivy untaped it and peeled it back, the full extent of the mess was revealed.

Her rear was caked in filth, and the sight and smell made Ivy grimace. “No wonder you were so insistent,” she said, her tone softening slightly despite her irritation.

The girl looked away, her cheeks flushing, but she said nothing.

Ivy sighed again, grabbing a handful of wipes and getting to work. It was a slow, laborious process, the mess far worse than she had anticipated. As she wiped the girl clean, she couldn’t help but think about the escalating humiliation Mistress seemed to revel in creating. Each trial was a new level of degradation, and the restrictions only seemed to grow tighter with every passing moment.

Ivy paused as she worked, her hands hovering over the panel. Glancing at the girl, whose face was set in a scowl, her cheeks flushed with lingering embarrassment, she said, “You never did tell me your name,” Ivy said evenly, hoping to coax some civility out of her.

The girl turned her head stubbornly, refusing to meet Ivy’s gaze. “Doesn’t matter,” she muttered.

Ivy sighed, her patience wearing thin. “Alright, then,” she said, pressing the button for multiple layers. The table whirred softly before dispensing the new diaper, its bulk unmistakable. It wasn’t just thick—it was massive, clearly integrating not two but three layers into one. Ivy’s brow lifted slightly as she picked it up, the heft of the thing surprising even her. If Jamie’s diaper forced a waddle, this would make walking impossible.

The girl craned her neck to look as the diaper was unfolded, her face darkening. “Just hurry up,” she grumbled, her voice clipped. “I hate being on display like this.”

Ivy didn’t reply, choosing instead to work efficiently. She powdered the girl and pulled the thick diaper into place, its bulk pressing snugly against her hips as Ivy secured the tabs tightly.

As with Jamie, the table didn’t stop there. Ivy watched as the mittens extended, locking onto the girl’s hands and forcing them into tight, useless fists. The girl flinched, grunting in frustration as the sleeper zipped back into place, her newly mittened hands now sealed into the fabric.

The restraints released her, and she climbed down awkwardly, the sheer bulk of the diaper forcing her legs apart in a comical waddle. She glared at Ivy, then at Jamie, her narrowed eyes darting between them.

“What’s your problem?” Ivy asked, her voice firm but calm.

The girl crossed her mittened arms over her chest—or at least tried to, given the stiffness of the mittens. “You’re treating me differently,” she accused, her voice rising. “His diaper wasn’t that thick. You did this to humiliate me!”

Ivy folded her arms, raising a brow. “You brought this on yourself,” she shot back. “You’ve been nothing but hostile since we started. Maybe if you’d cooperate, you wouldn’t feel so ‘singled out.’”

The girl’s face twisted with anger. She tried to take a step closer to Ivy, but the exaggerated waddle her diapers forced on her made it nearly impossible. Her mittened hands flailed uselessly as she tried to point accusingly at Ivy.

“You’re a bully!” the girl spat, her voice cracking with rage.

Ivy didn’t flinch, knowing full well the girl’s current state left her with little power to back up her words. Before Ivy could respond, a calm, automated voice chimed overhead:

“Caregiver 24, baby 56, is having a tantrum. Escort them to the Naughty Room immediately.”

The girl froze, her eyes widening in alarm. “Wait—what? No! I’m not going to the Naughty Room!”

Ivy stood her ground, meeting the girl’s panicked gaze with an air of authority she didn’t entirely feel. “Well,” she said with a shrug, “you should’ve thought of that before throwing a tantrum.”

The girl stammered in protest, but Ivy knew there was no way around it now. The rules were the rules, and the Naughty Room awaited.

The girl’s face contorted with rage as the automated announcement sank in. “I’m not going anywhere!” she shouted, her mittened hands flailing as she stepped closer to Ivy with an awkward waddle.

Ivy took a cautious step back, raising her hands defensively. “Don’t do something you’ll regret,” she warned, but the girl wasn’t listening.

In a burst of frustration, the girl lunged at Ivy, but her sleeper reacted before she could make contact. The fabric stiffened with a soft click and a mechanical hum, locking her arms and legs in place mid-motion. The sudden loss of mobility caused her to tumble to the ground with a muffled thud.

The girl let out a furious scream, her mittened hands unable to break her fall. She writhed on the floor, her wails of frustration echoing through the room. “Let me go! This isn’t fair!”

Ivy exchanged a look with Jamie, who had been watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. He stepped up beside her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Want a hand?” he asked.

Ivy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah,” she muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

Together, they bent down and grabbed the girl by her arms, struggling to lift her stiffened form. She kicked and screamed as they dragged her across the room, her muffled cries of protest drawing the attention of the other contestants. Ivy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she kept moving, determined to finish the task.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss when they reached the Naughty Room. A pair of mechanical arms extended from inside, their cold, metallic surfaces gleaming under the sterile lights.

“No! Don’t you dare—!” the girl’s protests were cut off as the arms grabbed her, pulling her into the room with surprising ease. Her cries echoed briefly before the doors slid shut, sealing her inside.

Ivy and Jamie stood there for a moment, catching their breaths. Jamie glanced at Ivy, his face pale but his lips quirking in a faint, awkward smile. “Well,” he said, his voice shaky, “that was… something.”

Ivy shook her head, her stomach churning. “Let’s just hope that’s the last tantrum we have to deal with today,” she muttered, turning away from the ominous doors. She was glad she didn’t have to find out firsthand whatever happened in the Naughty Room.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Ivy told Jamie, forcing a small smile. “I need to get changed.”

Jamie nodded quickly, eager to move past the chaos with the girl. “Yeah, of course. Take your time.”

Ivy didn’t wait for another word, heading straight for the caregiver changing area. The promise of clean undergarments was too tempting to delay any longer. She pushed through the door, exhaling as the familiar automated voice greeted her, but her relief was short-lived.

Her eyes immediately landed on Finn, who was standing by a changing table, stark naked, as he pulled a fresh pull-up into place. Ivy froze mid-step, her cheeks flooding with heat. She quickly averted her gaze, her embarrassment palpable.

Finn glanced up, equally startled, his face turning a shade of pink to match hers. “Uh, hi,” he said shyly, his voice soft as he fumbled with the waistband of the pull-up.

“Hi,” Ivy replied quickly, fixing her eyes on the far wall as she hurried to a nearby table. She climbed up, grabbing the necessary supplies: wipes and one of the thick pull-ups designated for caregivers. Her movements were hurried and awkward as she popped the tabs on her swollen diaper, peeling it off and tossing it into the disposal chute.

As she started cleaning herself, frustration mounted. The mess was more stubborn than she’d anticipated, and the wipes were doing little to make the process easier. She muttered under her breath, shifting uncomfortably as her attempts to clean up became increasingly futile.

“Need some help?” Finn’s voice broke through her thoughts, startling her.

She turned to see him standing beside her, fully dressed in his sleeper. His expression was tentative but sincere. He held out a fresh packet of wipes, his posture shy but resolute.

“I-I can do it,” Ivy stammered, her face burning with embarrassment.

Finn shook his head gently, a small, almost apologetic smile on his lips. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You took one for the team today. Let me do this. It’s the least I can do.”

Before she could protest further, he took the wipes from her hand and cleaned her carefully and deliberately. Ivy’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as the embarrassment of the situation mixed with an unexpected sense of comfort.

Finn worked quickly, and his touch was respectful but efficient. After a moment, he said, “There,” stepping back to grab the pull-up she had selected. He helped her step into it, gently pulling it into place and ensuring it was snug.

Ivy’s cheeks were on fire as she climbed down from the table with his help. “Thanks,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she avoided his gaze.

Finn gave her a small nod, his face tinged with pink. “No problem,” he said simply, stepping back to give her space.

Ivy hastily pulled her sleeper back over her shoulders, ensuring it was securely in place, before looking at him again. “Really… thanks,” she said, a little more earnestly this time.

Finn smiled softly, his gaze kind. “Anytime.”

As Ivy turned to leave, her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—embarrassment, gratitude, and something else she couldn’t quite place. But for now, she focused on returning to Jamie and leaving behind the changing room—and its awkward intimacy.

As Finn and Ivy stepped out of the changing room, fully cleaned and dressed, Finn motioned for his two assigned babies, Clara and a boy, who reluctantly followed him. The small group moved toward the nursery’s central area, passing other caregivers and babies, slowly dispersing after their changes.

As they walked, Ivy noticed a cluster of contestants gathered near a door she hadn’t seen open before. The curiosity was palpable, and murmurs rippled through the group, with heads craning to get a glimpse inside.

“What’s that?” Finn asked, pausing beside Ivy.

She shook her head, equally intrigued. “No idea. Let’s check it out.”

They approached the door, pushing through the small crowd to peer inside. To their surprise, the room beyond looked almost… normal. It was a living room, albeit an oversized one to match the nursery’s proportions. There were plush couches and armchairs arranged in cozy clusters, bookshelves lined with colorful spines, a large television mounted on the wall, and even a selection of board games stacked neatly on a low table.

The lighting was softer than the harsh fluorescents of the main rooms, casting a warm glow that made the space feel strangely inviting.

“Is this… for us?” one of the boys with Finn asked, his voice skeptical.

“Looks like it,” Ivy replied, stepping cautiously inside. Finn and his group followed, their steps hesitant as though expecting some hidden trap.

Several contestants were lounging on the couches, their nervous chatter filling the air. Some were flipping through books, while others idly inspected the games. The tension in the room was still palpable, but there was an undercurrent of cautious relief—this was the closest thing to normalcy they’d experienced since arriving.

Finn sat on one of the couches, his two babies settling awkwardly beside him. Ivy wandered toward the bookshelves, running her fingers along the spines as she scanned the titles. The nervous energy of the room was contagious, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the day’s events pressing down on her again.

“It’s almost… nice,” Finn said softly, breaking the silence between them.

Ivy glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Almost,” she agreed, her voice low.

But as they both knew, nothing truly nice came without a price in a place like this.

Clara and Jamie joined Ivy and Finn shortly after, both looking relieved to find familiar faces amidst the sea of nervous contestants. They exchanged small smiles as they settled onto one of the oversized couches, the plush cushions swallowing them slightly.

Ivy leaned back, her mind still buzzing with the day’s events, as she glanced around at her companions. Despite the circumstances, the room had a strange air of camaraderie, a shared sense of survival that seemed to bridge the gaps between them.

“So,” Finn began, breaking the awkward silence, “maybe we should, you know, introduce ourselves properly. If we’re stuck in this nightmare together, we might as well know who we’re dealing with.”

Clara nodded, tucking her legs beneath her. “I’m Clara,” she said simply, though her tone carried an edge of defiance. “Not that it matters much here.”

Jamie offered a small smile, his voice soft. “Jamie. I’m a mechanical engineering student.”

Ivy glanced at him, appreciating the calm energy he seemed to bring to the group. “I’m Ivy,” she added. “No fancy backstory. Just trying to survive this like everyone else.”

Finn cleared his throat, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I’m Finn. I… uh, was working toward a career in sports journalism. Guess that’s on hold now.”

Clara tilted her head, studying him. “Sports journalism? That isn’t what I’d think they would look for in a contestant.”

Finn shrugged, his grin fading. “Maybe not, but I’m here, so clearly they saw something.”

The group fell silent momentarily, the weight of their situation settling over them. Ivy glanced at the others, her brow furrowing. “It’s not random, though, is it?” she asked quietly. “None of this is. Mistress picked us for a reason.”

Jamie nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking the same thing. There’s got to be a pattern. Something connecting all of us.”

Clara frowned, crossing her arms. “And what? If we figure it out, does that give us some edge? Doubt it.”

“Maybe,” Ivy said, her tone firm. “Maybe not. But we can’t just play along with her games and hope for the best. If we can figure out why we’re here, it might give us a chance to fight back.”

Finn leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know about fighting back, but… knowing more can’t hurt. At the very least, we can watch out for each other.”

As the conversation lulled, the remaining boy, Finn’s other baby, spoke up.

“I guess I should introduce myself too,” he began. He was tall and lean, with a mop of dark hair that kept falling into his eyes. “I’m Tyler. I was… well, I am a graphic designer. Mostly freelance stuff. Nothing special.”

The group exchanged glances, their brows furrowed.

“Graphic design,” Finn murmured, rubbing his chin. “I mean… does that fit with any of the rest of us?”

“Not really,” Clara said, frowning. “Sports journalism, engineering,… whatever you do, Ivy.”

Ivy shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “Just a regular office job. Nothing exciting. If there’s a connection between us, it’s not obvious.”

Tyler crossed his arms, his face thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not about what we do,” he suggested. “Maybe it’s something else.”

Clara tapped her fingers against the armrest, her expression skeptical. “Maybe it’s personality traits. I mean, we’ve all been handling this differently. Some of us are panicking, and some of us…” She paused, glancing pointedly at Ivy and Finn. “...are taking charge.”

Jamie shook his head. “That doesn’t explain everyone, though. Not everyone’s a leader or a follower. What if it’s more random than we think?”

“I don’t buy that,” Ivy said firmly. “Mistress seems too… calculated for that. Everything about this is deliberate. There has to be a reason she picked us.”

Finn nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay, let’s think. It could be physical. Maybe she chose people based on fitness, age, or something else?”

Tyler shrugged. “And I sit at a desk all day. I’m not here for my endurance.”

The group fell silent, the puzzle gnawing at them. The more they talked, the less sense it seemed to make, but Ivy wasn’t ready to give up.

“There’s something,” she said quietly, her voice resolute. “We just haven’t figured it out yet. But if we keep looking, keep paying attention… maybe we’ll find it.”

The others nodded, though uncertainty lingered in their expressions. The conversation continued, weaving through guesses, theories, and the occasional moment of levity as they tried to piece together the puzzle of their shared predicament. The dim light of the room didn’t change, offering any indication of time, but the steady rhythm of their chatter made it feel like hours had passed.

Ivy glanced at the others, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the television. Tyler was sketching idle shapes in the air with his finger, his thoughts elsewhere. Jamie sat forward, listening intently, while Clara occasionally interjected with sharp, sarcastic remarks that belied her confusion.

Finn’s voice broke through the comfortable murmur, his words cutting through the growing haze of their theories. “What if it’s not about who we are now?” he suggested. “What if it’s about something we all did in the past?”

The group fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a blanket. Ivy’s heart quickened as her mind raced, sifting through memories she hadn’t thought about in years.

“That’s… possible,” Jamie said slowly, his voice hesitant. “But what kind of past are we talking about? Something good? Something bad?”

Clara rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Tyler tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Before anyone could speak again, the room lights dimmed slightly, signaling the end of their discussion. Ivy’s breath caught as she glanced around, and the faint hum of the room’s mechanics suddenly became louder in the relative silence.

“We’ll figure it out,” Ivy said, more to herself than anyone else, her voice barely above a whisper.

But even as the words left her lips, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time.

*

Contestant 56 writhed and struggled as Ivy and Jamie dragged her down the hallway, her mittened hands uselessly flailing at her sides. The sleeper’s unyielding grip forced her arms and legs into an awkward, stiff position, making it impossible to resist. She gritted her teeth; her face twisted in frustration and fear as she tried vainly to fight against the relentless fabric.

“Let me go!” she screamed, echoing down the corridor. “You can’t do this to me!”

Her pleas were brushed aside as Ivy and Jamie, though struggling with her weight, maintained their grip. The tension in the air grew heavier with each step as they neared the looming door marked with bold, glowing letters: NAUGHTY ROOM.

Contestant 56’s heart raced, panic clawing at her throat. She thrashed harder, but the sleeper only tightened, forcing her movements to a jerky crawl that left her helpless. Her voice rose in a mixture of fury and terror. “I didn’t even do anything! This isn’t fair!”

As they reached the door, it slid open with a low, mechanical hiss. A rush of cold air spilled out, carrying a sterile, metallic scent. Contestant 56 froze, her blood running cold as she stared into the darkness beyond before she could form another thought, metallic arms extended from the shadows, their sleek, segmented surfaces glinting faintly in the dim light.

“No! No, don’t!” she cried, her voice breaking as the arms grabbed her, effortlessly pulling her from Ivy and Jamie’s grasp. She writhed violently, her body convulsing in a final, desperate bid for freedom. Her pleas turned into panicked sobs as she was dragged inside. The darkness enveloped her completely, broken only by a faint red glow that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.

“Welcome to the Naughty Room,” an automated voice purred, its tone cold and emotionless.

Contestant 56’s breath hitched, and her vision swam as she realized the reality of her predicament. The glowing red light grew brighter, casting eerie, shifting shadows across the walls. Her chest heaved, and a scream bubbled up from deep within her. And then it burst forth—a bloodcurdling, primal scream of terror that echoed endlessly in the suffocating room.