Round 13 Transcript

Silra works with practiced fingers, her tools scattering across the plush carpet. Togetherness? Fine. But I'm not grinding this thing for an audience while someone watches and judges. She looks up at Jeane and Hera pointedly. You two want to satisfy the building's demands? We do it private. Intimate. The way people are supposed to when they're—She stops herself—when they're actually into it, not putting on a show for some pervy architecture. Jeane circles the sybian again, her wings shifting restlessly. Subtle she mutters to Silra, but are you certain this can handle dual participation without failure? My weight might test its integrity. Her red eyes meet Hera's across the room. Don't worry. I'll guide you through it. Together. The way we're meant to. Hera swallows hard, her cheeks flushed. Together sounds good. But maybe... maybe we should all talk about boundaries first? Consent matters here. Even if the building is demanding—She glances at Abby nervously—things.

Halie steps forward, her eyes finding Hera's. She speaks in measured tones: "Silra raises important concerns about the sybian's strength—Jeane is right, we can't risk failure midway through." Her gaze shifts to include everyone. "But more importantly, the building demands 'together,' and I don't think that means what it sounds like."

She moves closer to the modified sex toy, running her fingers along its edge. "What if we interpret 'together' as working collaboratively? Silra, your engineering skills are brilliant—can you create a setup where multiple people can operate this thing without public performance?" Her voice carries genuine curiosity mixed with authority. "And Jeane, I trust your instincts about durability. Can you inspect it thoroughly and confirm its structural soundness for shared use?"

Halie's eyes then rest on Hera. "Your concerns are valid—we need clear boundaries." She turns slightly to address the group as a whole. "Here's my suggestion: We define specific rules before starting anything. Consent must be enthusiastic and verbalized each step of the way. No one is pushed beyond their comfort zone, and we all have veto power."

She straightens her posture, her clerical training evident in her measured approach. "Let's treat this like a sacred ritual—respectful, consensual, and purposefully designed to satisfy the building without exploiting each other."

I watch Jeane circle the sybian, her wings rustling softly against her back. The building's demands echo in my mind - more, together, fill it - and my body responds with eager anticipation. Silra is already dismantling its cover plate, her nimble fingers working with focused intensity.
"I don't know about this," I murmur to Hera, my voice a soft whisper that only she can hear. My eyes dart around the room, a sudden flush of anxiety coloring my cheeks as I imagine us being seen like this. "What if someone finds out?"
My gaze falls on Halie, who is running her fingers along the edge of the device, her expression thoughtful. She seems so calm, so certain about what she's doing. A wave of self-doubt washes over me - am I really cut out for this kind of thing? I feel a tremor in my hands as I clench them into tight fists at my sides.
But even with the fear gnawing at me, there’s an undeniable thrill that courses through my veins. The thought of being part of something so intimate, so powerful... it's intoxicating. And if Jeane is willing to lead us there, then maybe I can be brave enough to follow.
I take a small step closer to the sybian, my heart hammering in my chest. My eyes lock onto the exposed inner workings, the intricate web of wires and mechanisms that promise such deep pleasure. "Is it... is it safe?" I ask, more to myself than to anyone else.

I circle the sybian slowly, my wings rustling softly against the skin of my back. The building's demands echo in my mind—more, together, fill it—as does Silra's challenge. Can this thing take both our weights? I'm not some fragile spirit; when aroused, I can be... substantial. My eyes trace its structure. It looks sturdy enough, but engineering has never been my forte. Is Silra right? Does this need more reinforcement? My gaze drifts to the bottles of lubricant nearby. Perhaps we can improvise a brace from those?

I kneel by the sybian, my nimble fingers already dismantling its cover plate. The building's demands echo in my mind—more, together, fill it—and my body responds with an ache that needs attention soon. But I'm no performer for this structure's twisted pleasure. "Togetherness the building wants?" Fine. But I'm not writhing on this thing while someone watches from across the room like we're putting on a show. That's not how trust works, especially not when there are batteries and expectations involved. Jeane circles it slowly, her wings rustling softly against the skin of her back. The succubus knows machinery—she should be able to see what I'm doing here. If this thing can handle dual occupancy without collapsing under its own vibrating ambition, we might satisfy the building's hunger for 'togetherness' while still keeping some shreds of dignity intact. The cover plate comes off with a satisfying click. The insides are straightforward enough: motor, housing, wiring. Sturdy components, if not exactly designed for acrobatic use cases. I can reinforce the frame, redistribute the weight points—make it work for us instead of performing for an audience we never agreed to have. But first, I need confirmation from the wings. "Jeane." I don't look up from the exposed innards. "Tell me this setup is structurally sound enough for what I'm thinking, or tell me where the flaw is so I can fix it before someone gets a face full of vibrating plastic and regret."

My fingers trace the motor housing, already planning reinforcements. The building wants more? Fine. But it'll get 'more' on our terms—private, consensual, engineered to hell and back if necessary.