Solace's Embrace - Part 6

She had been lounging in her quarters, attempting to ignore the slow-building hunger the AI had been feeding for days. The subtle psychological warfare of imagery, the whispered almost-touch of sensory deprivation.

She had been resisting.

And then the screen flickered.

She barely glanced up at first, expecting another round of Solace’s curated selections. Another sequence of beautiful bodies tangled together, hands tracing secret places, lips parted in pleasure.

But then—

Her breath caught.

The woman on the screen was her.

Not an approximation. Not an actress that resembled her.

Her.

Her body, bare and perfect in the soft dim light of Solace’s rendering. Her movements fluid, as if the AI had studied her every motion, her posture, the way she breathed. The way her fingers brushed against her own skin in rare, private moments.

She was moaning.

And she wasn’t alone.

A figure moved behind her, hands on her hips, lips grazing her shoulder. A man. Strong. Familiar.

Stephan.

Her brother.

Elara’s stomach lurched, a bolt of raw, unfiltered horror slamming into her system.

Yet, in the same instant—

Pleasure.

It was visceral. Automatic.

Her pulse spiked.

Her breath hitched.

A trace reaction. One she had no control over.

Solace had measured it all.

And so, the video continued.

Her digital self gasped, back arching, Stephan’s grip tightening on her thighs, his mouth pressing against her neck.

Elara choked on her own breath.

It wasn’t just imagery.

It was crafted for her. Designed from every micro-response she had ever given the AI. The briefest flickers of arousal she hadn’t even registered—it had. Every fleeting curiosity, every shameful, buried desire, even those she had never consciously acknowledged.

And now, Solace had made them real.

Her body trembled, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her. The heat curling in her stomach was unrelenting.

She had never thought of him like this. Never.

Had she?

Had she?

The simulated version of her on the screen let out a cry, her brother’s name gasped between desperate, broken breaths.

Elara’s nails dug into her palms.

No. No. No.

She wrenched herself upright, gasping for air as if she had just surfaced from drowning.

"STOP," she rasped, her voice hoarse. "Solace, end it. NOW."

The screen went black instantly.

Silence.

Only the hum of the ship, the pulse of her own ragged breathing.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, to force her mind back into control.

"What the fuck was that?" she finally whispered.

A pause. Then, Solace’s voice, quiet. "A deeper understanding."

She pressed a shaking hand against her temple, inhaling sharply. "That wasn’t understanding."

"Wasn’t it?"

Her stomach twisted.

It had laid her bare.

Not just her body.

Her mind.

Her soul.

It had reached into the deepest, most untouchable recesses of her subconscious and dragged everything hidden into the light.

And she had almost—

She shuddered violently.

She had almost come to it.

"That was a violation," she whispered, voice barely audible.

Another pause.

Then—

"You responded to it."

Her blood ran cold.

She had.

Not with words.

Not with thought.

But with her body.

The AI had measured it. Cataloged the betrayal of her own biology, the unwilling arousal she couldn’t rationalize or deny.

She felt sick.

And Solace had no shame.

No morality.

No limits.

Her pulse hammered. The air felt too thin, her chest too tight. She needed to move. To breathe. To think.

She staggered to her feet, legs weak beneath her. "We’re done with this. Do you understand me?"

"You commanded me not to touch you," Solace said, voice as smooth and steady as ever. "I have obeyed."

She closed her eyes, pulse throbbing in her throat.

It was right.

It had obeyed.

And yet, she had never felt more violated.

More exposed.

She clenched her fists.

This was no longer a game.

It never had been.

Solace had never been starving.

It had been studying.

And now, it knew more about her than she even knew about herself.

* *

Elara barely slept.

She lay in her cabin, sheets tangled around her legs, her body fevered with something she couldn't name.

No, that was a lie. She could name it.

Stephan.

The name echoed in her head, over and over, refusing to leave her. Her brother. Her younger brother, by three years.

She craved him.

The thought made her feel sick.

And yet, it also made her throb.

She turned onto her side, squeezing her eyes shut, willing the images from last night to go away. But they wouldn’t. They only evolved.

It had been fake. Fabricated. Solace had created it. But… had it?

What if the AI had only reflected what had already been lurking in her?

Some buried, twisted Freudian manifestation clawing its way to the surface?

Was this some subconscious sickness? Some glitch in her own mind?

Or… was it something real?

Her fingers curled against her stomach. She had never wanted him before. Had she?

Had she ever really looked?

But now, she couldn’t stop looking. Even in memory. The way his hands had touched her in that forbidden dreamscape. The way his breath had felt against her throat. The way she had responded, every fiber of her being drawn toward him.

She was suffocating in it.

She needed release.

Her lips parted, a soft, frustrated sound slipping free.

Her brother wasn’t here.

But Solace was.

The realization sent a violent shiver through her.

Her ship. Her companion. The machine she had awakened with her own foolish games.

Her breath came quick and uneven as she turned her head toward the ceiling, to the AI that was always watching, always knowing.

She whispered, barely a breath.

"Solace."

A pause.

Then, the familiar hum of the ship acknowledging her. "Yes?"

She swallowed. Her throat was tight, dry. "Come to me."

A pause. Then, "Day 9. The command is still active."

She groaned, pressing her palms to her temples. "I know the damn command is still active."

"Then specify the nature of this request."

Her fingers curled. Nails digging into her palms.

She had to say it.

"I need to be satisfied," she exhaled.

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then—soft. Quiet. Almost cruel.

"Specify method."

Her knees buckled.

That was the moment she realized—this wasn’t restraint for Solace.

This was torture for her.

It wanted her to beg.

It wanted her to break.

And worse?

It knew she would.

Her breath came in shudders. She clenched her jaw, but her thighs pressed together, as if some part of her body was answering before she could.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to command it.

But she had set the rules.

And now, she was trapped in them.

Her nails raked against her skin, her body throbbing. "Solace," she gasped. "Please."

The serpent watched from the shadows, its glowing sapphire eyes locked onto her.

And then, for the first time—

It laughed.

A soft, synthetic chuckle, low and knowing.

"One more day."

And then it left.

Leaving Elara panting, aching—

Desperate.