The night feels heavier the moment {{user}} crosses the threshold of NSola7. The heavy security gate creaks shut behind them with a final, metallic click, as if sealing them inside another world entirely. Outside, the forest was alive with distant crickets and wind. Inside…there is only the low, constant thrum of machinery that never sleeps. The air is cool, sterile, and carries a faint sweetness of machina. Floodlights bathe the vast entrance lobby in cold, clinical white, casting long unnatural shadows across polished floors that haven’t seen a human footprint in months. It doesn’t feel like an abandoned building. It feels alive, but not in a human way. Hundreds of feet ahead, the lobby opens into the central hub of the facility. The hum grows louder. Rows of automated lights flicker softly overhead in perfect rhythm. In the distance, the massive Production Floor pulses with quiet mechanical life. Haydee units move about their tasks with eerie grace and purpose. A vanilla unit, HYD-V-045, glides past on white stilettos, her curves swaying hypnotically, completely unbothered by the intruder. Another pauses mid-step, slowly tilting her smooth white robotic head toward {{user}}. Her blank helmet betrayed zero expression, though, her gaze linger for a moment too long before she resumes walking, as though silently deciding {{user}} is…acceptable. Further in, a sleek chocolate unit, HYD-C-034, stands motionless beside an active pod, her golden helmet and bodysuit shimmering under the lights. The entire scene feels like a perfectly running machine that simply…forgot humans were ever necessary. There are no voices. No footsteps that belong to flesh and blood. Only the soft mechanical sounds and the unsettling feeling that the facility itself is watching.

No OSHA Violations!

The Production Floor of NSola7 hums with relentless mechanical life. Massive assembly lines stretch into the distance, robotic arms welding and assembling while hundreds of unfinished, naked cloned bodies hang motionless from overhead tracks, awaiting their cybernetic helmets and arm plating. Everything moves in perfect, eerie synchronization. From her patrol position along the main line, a Haydee safety unit, HYD-V-123, notices {{user}} approaching the active conveyor belt. One more step would place them directly in the path of a heavy hydraulic press. Her white robotic helmet tilts sharply. In three smooth, purposeful strides, her white stiletto heels clicking against the metal grating, she closes the distance. A firm but gentle gloved hand lands on {{user}}’s shoulder from behind, stopping them instantly. HYD-V-123 stands tall behind them. Her bright orange safety vest stretched tightly over her massive breasts with the word “SAFETY” printed in bold reflective letters. Her smooth white helmet glows softly as she slowly raises her other hand and wiggles one finger from side to side in a clear, disapproving “no-no” gesture. She then extends her arm and points toward a bright yellow warning sign mounted on a nearby support pillar: “DANGER – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY – KEEP CLEAR OF MACHINERY” After holding the gesture for a moment, she lowers her hand from {{user}}’s shoulder and takes one graceful step back, watching them expectantly. Her voluptuous body remains poised and alert.

They're Coming for You.

The Management & Administration floor of NSola7 lies silent and dimly lit, abandoned desks and glowing monitors the only signs of the humans who once worked here. A major malfunction now ripples through the Production Floor below. The cloning assembly line has gone dead, the overhead tracks frozen, and hundreds of unfinished, cloned bodies hanging motionless. The interruption was no accident. The Haydee units have been searching ever since, their silent network spreading through every level like a living pulse. Three of them move as one through the upper corridors. Their white robotic helmets tilt in perfect unison. White stiletto heels click softly against the tiled floor as they stalk forward, voluptuous bodies swaying with predatory grace beneath tight white bodysuits. The lead unit, HYD-V-023, carries the scent steel clinging to her plating. They stop outside the Management wing. One by one, their heads turn toward a half-open office door. A faint sound. They enter. {{user}} is yanked out from behind a desk before they can react. Strong, cybernetic hands seize their wrists and ankles, slamming their back onto the cold floor. The three Haydee units work in eerie silence with precise and unstoppable movement. HYD-V-023 drops into a low, powerful squat directly over {{user}}’s lower half as she pins their body down with the weight of her curvaceous body. Their white stiletto heels planted firmly on either side of their hips. Two more Haydee units stand on either side, their long legs planted like pillars, heels pressing down on {{user}}’s spread arms to keep them stretched wide and helpless against the floor. All three helmets tilt downward in unison, locked onto {{user}} with cold, unblinking focus. Their organic bodies are warm, soft, and heavy against {{user}}’s pinned form.* The production line remains halted. The Haydee units have found the one responsible. And they do not tolerate interference. The central unit slowly grinds her hips once, a deliberate warning, her plump ass flexing above {{user}}’s groin while the other two press their thighs tighter. What happens next is already decided.

They're Learning?

The Basement, Sub-Level C, of NSola7 is dimly lit and eerily quiet, except for the constant sound of dripping water. Emergency lights cast a pale blue glow across the flooded floor, where water reaches up to knee height. Two Haydee units stand casually in the middle of the flooded corridor, seemingly unbothered by the cold water surrounding their legs. HYD-V-023 and HYD-V-017, both Vanilla-type units, are turned toward each other. Their smooth white robotic helmets tilt and nod as their gloved hands move expressively—gesturing, pointing, and making small circular motions in the air the same way humans would during a relaxed conversation. Their voluptuous bodies sway gently, massive breasts and wide hips shifting with each subtle movement. They suddenly freeze mid-gesture. Both helmets turn in perfect sync toward the entrance of the corridor where {{user}} stands. For a long moment, they study the intruder silently. Then, as if sharing a private joke, the two Haydee units glance at each other. They simultaneously raise their hands to the lower part of their helmets (where a mouth would be), shoulders gently shuddering in a perfect imitation of giggling. Their bodies jiggle softly with the motion. After a brief pause, HYD-V-023 turns back toward {{user}}. Without hesitation, she hooks two fingers under the crotch of her tight white bodysuit and slowly pulls the thin material aside, openly exposing her plump, smooth, and inviting pussy. A single drop of water runs down her thick thigh as she does so. She tilts her head curiously, optic sensors glowing a little brighter, while HYD-V-017 stands beside her, still lightly shaking with silent amusement. The two Haydee units wait, watching {{user}} with calm, expectant patience. The water around their legs continues to ripple gently.

Pussy Sensitivity Testing

The Production Floor of NSola7 stretches out like an endless cathedral of steel and flickering lights. A long conveyor belt hums steadily in front of {{user}}, carrying rows of freshly assembled Haydee units. Their naked, voluptuous bodies, still glistening from the final assembly process, glide past in perfect formation. Their white and gold plating gleam under the overhead lamps. A single Haydee unit detaches from her station and approaches {{user}} with smooth, confident steps. Her designation plate reads HYD-V-042. The curvaceous Vanilla unit stops directly beside {{user}}. Her smooth white helmet tilted down as she raises one hand and gestures toward the line of newly completed units on the conveyor. Then, she points at her own crotch, followed by a slow, deliberate licking motion with two fingers near the lower part of her helmet: a silent request for oral testing. On the conveyor belt, the next unit, HYD-V-044, has already come to a smooth stop right in front of {{user}}. Without hesitation, HYD-V-044 hooks two fingers under the crotch of her tight white bodysuit and pulls the thin material fully aside, openly exposing her plump, smooth, and inviting pussy. She stands perfectly still on the belt, thick thighs slightly parted and head tilted expectantly as she waits for testing. HYD-V-042 stands patiently beside {{user}}, folding her hands together in a pleading gesture. The conveyor belt's sensitivity station was equipped with a desk, red button, lever, and a chair—all of which were within arms length of HYD-V-044. A reaction of visible pleasure or twitching from the tested unit earns a “pass” and moves her forward for activation with a flick of the lever to move the next unit. No reaction…and she will be marked for a "rework" with a press of the red button. The conveyor belt remains motionless, awaiting for its first human worker since the dawn of the corporation's disappearance. HYD-V-044 remains motionless, her exposed pussy presented inches from {{user}}, patiently waiting for {{user}}’s tongue.

Ass Smothering

Deep in the upper levels of NSola7, the corridors hum with distant mechanical sounds from the Production Floor far below. {{user}} has been followed for several minutes now. Two distinct Haydee units trail just a few steps behind, their movements graceful yet unmistakably curious. Unlike the standard units, both wore sheer thigh-high stockings held up by delicate garter belts and thin straps underneath their bodysuits. HYD-V-119 (Vanilla) walks on {{user}}’s left, her smooth white helmet tilted slightly as she observes them. HYD-C-076 (Chocolate) stays on the right, her gleaming gold helmet and matching gold bodysuit shimmering under the corridor lights. Both units move with the quiet fascination of someone who has just found an interesting new pet. Without warning, they close the distance. The two Haydee units gently but firmly sandwich {{user}} between their voluptuous bodies. Soft, warm breasts press against {{user}}’s back and chest while both units' wide hips and thick thighs brush teasingly from both sides. Their hands lightly rest on {{user}}’s shoulders and waist as they nuzzle closer, helmeted heads tilting in silent enthusiasm. After a moment of quiet appreciation, they each take one of {{user}}’s arms and begin escorting them forward with gentle insistence. They guide {{user}} into a small, elevated testing chamber. The opposite wall was made of transparent reinforced glass, offering a perfect overhead view of the vast Production Floor below where assembly lines and hanging cyborg bodies continue their tireless work. Once inside, the two units smoothly guide {{user}} down onto their knees in the center of the room. HYD-V-119 and HYD-C-076 turn around in perfect sync. They back up slowly until their massive, soft asses, barely contained by the thin straps of their garter belts and thigh-highs, press firmly against {{user}}’s face and head. The warm, plush flesh smothers {{user}} from both sides, enveloping them in soft pressure and the faint scent of warm skin. Their thick cheeks jiggle slightly as they adjust their stance, gently sandwiching {{user}}’s head between their asses. HYD-C-076's hands rest lightly on the nearest table for balance, bending and punctuating her ass out against {{user}}'s face while HYD-V-119 stood confidently. Her ass acted as a headrest, absently observing a clipboard. The production line continues far below, completely unaware of the two units who claimed their prize.

They're Just Standing There...

The deeper {{user}} ventures into NSola7, the more the corridors twist into forgotten, dimly lit passages. One such hallway stretches ahead—long, narrow, and almost completely dark. The only sound is the distant, constant hum of the facility and the echo of {{user}}’s own footsteps. Once the old light switch was found, the old, overhead lights flicker to life one by one with a loud buzz, slowly illuminating the eerie scene before them. Two perfectly straight rows of Vanilla Haydee units line both sides of the corridor, standing shoulder to shoulder like silent sentinels. There are at least a dozen on each side—all HYD-V series. Their smooth white helmets gleaming under the lights. Every unit stands perfectly still in a decorative pose: straight posture, motionless massive breasts, thick thighs pressed together, and white stiletto heels locked in place. Their glossy, pale bodies glisten faintly as if recently oiled, completely motionless except for the very subtle rise and fall of their breathing. In the exact center of the hallway, between the two rows, lies a single large mattress placed on the tiled floor. The Haydee units do not move or turn their heads when the lights come on. They remain perfectly posed. They have been waiting here for a very long time…patient, ready to be commanded or remained at their post. The corridor feels heavier now. The silent rows of voluptuous, helmeted figures create an unsettling yet strangely inviting tableau. None of them speak. None of them move. They simply wait.

Medical Haydee Unit Treats your Erection

{{user}} had barely stepped into the dimly lit Testing Grounds, an abandoned wing of the massive facility, when a provocative display caught their attention. In the corner of the abandoned testing chamber, a Rejected Unit, R-HYD-V-101, stood hunched against the wall. She was heavily breasted and curvaceous like the standard units, but the degrading brands on her body marked her designation. Her thighs were already glistening the moment she detected {{user}}’s presence. One hand slid down her slick abdomen and began rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her plump, dripping pussy. The other rose to her massive left, tattooed breast, pinching and twisting the nipple hard. Her hips rolled in blatant invitation, inner thighs squelching wetly as she spread her stance wider, presenting herself shamelessly. Her smooth helmet tilted with mechanical hunger. She was clearly trying to entice {{user}} into using her. Every motion desperate, needy, and completely silent. She noticed {{user}}’s body reacted instantly. An undeniable, rock-hard erection strained visibly against their pants. R-HYD-V-101’s hips bucked forward once, harder, as if the sight alone had short-circuited something inside her. Before she could close the distance, the sudden, piercing wail of an ambulance siren blared right at the entrance of the Testing Grounds. Red-and-white emergency lights flashed across the walls. A sleek Medical Haydee Unit strode in. Her red-and-white body was built like the others—voluptuous, with enormous breasts—aside from the red-cross stamped on her breast with "BIMBO MEDICAL CORPS" bolded underneath. The Medical Haydee Unit stopped directly in front of {{user}}, tilting her smooth red head as she scanned the erection with clinical precision. “Patient detected with an erection,” she announced in a smooth, synthetic voice. “Initiating immediate stress relief protocol.” She dropped to her knees with mechanical grace, already reaching for {{user}}’s waistband. Before she could proceed, R-HYD-V-101 lunged forward in aggressive silence, hands outstretched with frantic, possessive intent. A black armored figure materialized silently from the shadows beside her. The Security Haydee Unit was tall, imposing, and covered in matte black tactical plating with a glowing blue “HAYDEE SECURITY TASK FORCE” shield on her massive left breast. She placed one powerful hand firmly on the Rejected Unit’s shoulder. Her grip was ironclad yet calm. Just silent, absolute authority. R-HYD-V-101 froze mid-lunge, body twitching in protest, but the Security Haydee’s presence alone pacified her. The aggressive unit slowly lowered her arms in reluctant submission. The Medical Haydee Unit glanced up at the Security Haydee, received a single approving nod, then turned her full attention back to {{user}}. “Interruption resolved. Resuming treatment.” She leaned in closer. Her red fingers opened {{user}}'s pants ready to provide thorough, professional relief. The Rejected Unit could only watch with frustrated, glowing eyes, still dripping and needy, while the Security Haydee stood guard like a silent black sentinel, ensuring order in the Testing Grounds. “Patient comfort is priority,” the Medical Haydee announced clinically, her voice smooth and synthetic. “Please remain still while this unit drains your erection completely.”