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

Remake -v1.0-. The words scrolled across his vision, not on a screen, but etched into the inner surface of his cornea. Prisoner: Kaelen Ashworth. Crime: Emotional Redundancy.

“You see?” she said, stepping closer. The resin walls pulsed with a slow, amber light. “The prison isn’t the cage. The cage is the old you. We are the remake. And you, Kaelen, are going to be a beautiful, trembling, new thing.”

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.”

A whisper, dry and chitinous, skittered from the ceiling. “Ah. You’re awake.” Insect Prison Remake -v1.0- -Eroism-

He was anticipating the next injection.

The needle touched his neck.

“Warden. Curator. Muse.” She tilted her head, a gesture both human and insectile. “The old system failed because it punished the body. We punish the… flavor of the soul. You are emotionally redundant, Kaelen. You feel the same things, in the same order, for the same reasons. Boring. We are going to breed new responses into you.” Remake -v1

Kaelen looked up. A face leaned down from the amber gloom. It was beautiful in the way a polished skull is beautiful. Features of a woman, but the eyes were compound, fracturing his reflection into a thousand tiny, screaming Kaelens. Her hair was not hair, but filament-thin antennae. She wore a gown of woven chitin that clicked softly as she descended, her movements a series of precise, predatory angles.

Kaelen clawed at the floor, his nails scraping against the trapped insects below the surface. He could see them now, not as fossils, but as fellow prisoners. Each one a perfected engine of instinct. They did not think. They desired . To hunt. To mate. To parasitize. And their desires, frozen for millennia, were now bleeding into him through the Eroism.

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. Crime: Emotional Redundancy

He remembered now. The old prison had been about bars and silence. This one… this one was about intimacy. About being known .

Now, the real punishment had begun.

“Warden Sess,” he said, his voice a dry rasp.

Suddenly, he could feel every insect embedded in the walls. Their final, frozen agonies. The mantis’s hunger. The wasp’s sterile, mechanical lust for implantation. And beneath it, a new sensation—a phantom touch. Not Sess’s hand, but the idea of touch. A caress that hadn’t happened yet, echoing backward through time. His skin remembered pleasures he’d never known, and his nerves anticipated pains that would never come.

The light was the first thing to go. Not a dimming, but a surgical removal. Kaelen woke not to darkness, but to a hum . A low, resonant thrum that vibrated through the polished floor beneath his cheek. He pushed himself up, the air thick and sweet, like overripe fruit left too long in the sun.