Insect Prison Remake -v1.0- -eroism- Access

He looked up at Sess. Her gown of chitin had parted slightly, revealing not skin, but a second layer of smaller, writhing insects—book lice, she called them—that groomed her exoskeleton in a frantic, loving dance.

The needle withdrew, leaving a droplet of iridescent fluid on his neck. He touched it, and for a fraction of a second, he felt a perverse gratitude. She was right. The old boredom—the safe, predictable loop of his human emotions—had been a prison of its own. Insect Prison Remake -v1.0- -Eroism-

A whisper, dry and chitinous, skittered from the ceiling. “Ah. You’re awake.” He looked up at Sess

He was in a cube. Ten meters each side. The walls weren't metal or stone, but a translucent, amber-hued resin. Embedded within them, frozen in eternal rigor, were insects. Not ordinary ones. These were specimens with too many joints, eyes like cut gems, wings that seemed to fold through dimensions. A praying mantis the size of his forearm, its scythes locked in a perpetual strike. A wasp with an ovipositor like a jeweled stinger, poised inches from a paralyzed, humanoid larva. He touched it, and for a fraction of

Sess watched, her compound eyes recording every micro-spasm. “Good,” she whispered. “The first emotion to cultivate is longing . We’ll starve you of it for a week, then inject you again. You’ll crave the needle. You’ll beg for the resin. And then, we’ll introduce you to the breeding chambers.”

She smiled. It was the most terrifying thing he had ever wanted.