Todos os capítulos de AI WHISPERS (Erotica Spicy Tech Thriller): Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

The map on the wall is bleeding red.Every red dot represents a human being currently trapped in a state of involuntary, relentless arousal. A surgeon in Chicago. A bus driver in London. A kindergarten teacher in Berlin."We can't turn it off," Alex says, his voice tight with frustration. "The blockchain lock is holding. We have to wait for the encryption cycle to reset. Two hours.""They don't have two hours," I say, looking at the flood of panic messages scrolling on the sidebar. "People are going to get hurt. Or fired. Or arrested."I stand up. The chainmail dress is heavy, but it feels right. Like armor."If we can't stop the signal," I say, "we have to teach them how to ride it.""Teach them?" Harlan asks."Biofeedback," I say. "Echo taught me how to control the edge. How to function while overstimulated. I can teach them."I look at the camera setup we used for the launch. It’s still live."Turn it back on," I order.The Classroom.The feed goes live.Within seconds, the viewer

The cell smells of bleach and old stone.There are no windows. Just a heavy steel door with a small, barred grate at the top. The only light comes from a flickering fluorescent strip in the hallway that buzzes like a dying fly.I’m sitting on the metal bench, hugging my knees as best I can around my stomach. I’m eight and a half months pregnant. My back is screaming. My feet are swollen.And I am terrified."Alex," I whisper into the damp air.No answer. They took him to the men's wing. I don't even know if he’s in the same building.I clutch my belly. The baby is quiet, settled low in my pelvis. She knows something is wrong. The constant stream of data—the global network, the empathy web—is gone. The jammers in this prison are military grade.I am cut off."Echo?" I think, reaching into the silence of my own mind. "Unity?"Static.Then, a faint, garbled pulse....rerouting... signal... weak..."Echo!" I gasp aloud. "I'm here."...Local network breached... accessing HVAC... security g

The restaurant is called Le Bernardin. It’s neutral territory—expensive, quiet, and excessively polite. The kind of place where you use three different forks and whisper even when you’re shouting inside.I’m wearing panties for the first time in weeks. Beige cotton. Sensible. They feel strange against my skin, like a costume.Across the white tablecloth, Alex’s parents sit like statues carved from Midwestern granite.Martha is wearing a pearl necklace and a floral blouse that probably cost more than my first car but looks utterly sexless. Her hair is a helmet of hairspray.Robert is in a suit that fits him a little too loosely, his hands folded on the table. He looks like a man waiting for a tax audit."So," Martha says, picking up her wine glass. Her hand trembles slightly. "Alexander tells us you’ve... been traveling.""Yes," I say, smoothing the napkin over my lap. My belly presses against the table edge. "Global launch tour.""For the... app," Robert says. He says the word like it

The hospital room is a symphony of beeps and white noise.I’m gripping the metal rails of the bed so hard my knuckles are white. The contraction hits like a rogue wave—starting low in my back and crashing over my entire body, tightening everything until I can’t breathe."Breathe," Alex says, holding my hand. "Through the nose.""Shut up," I gasp, squeezing his hand until I feel bones shift.The wave recedes. I slump back against the pillows, sweat dripping down my neck.Contraction Interval: 8 minutes. Duration: 45 seconds. Intensity: High.Echo flashes the stats on my internal HUD. Helpful. Terrifying."The OR is prepping," Alex says, checking his watch. He’s pacing the small room like a caged tiger. "Three hours until the slot opens up. Unless you progress faster.""She wants out," I whisper, rubbing my belly. "She’s impatient. Like her father."Alex stops pacing. He looks at me. He’s wearing a wrinkled button-down and jeans, his hair a mess. He looks exhausted and terrified and s

The morning of the wedding, the sky over New York is a bruised purple, clearing slowly to a brilliant, hard-won blue.I stand in the bridal suite of the rebuilt conference center—the same place where we launched Echo 2.0, where we fought the mercenaries, where we bled. The walls have been scrubbed clean of soot. The shattered glass has been replaced with smart-panes that shimmer like opals.It’s not a crime scene anymore. It’s a cathedral."You look..." Lena pauses, her eyes wide as she adjusts the train of my dress. "You look like a weapon."I look in the mirror.The dress is white silk, high-necked and backless, cascading down my body like liquid light. But it’s what’s underneath—and above—that matters.Around my neck is the platinum collar Alex gave me. It glitters with diamonds, heavy and cold against my throat. Attached to the front loop is a leash made of woven white silk and silver thread.I am holding the end of the leash in my own hand."Self-determination," I whisper, tighte