a plushie of Uzi?!?!?!

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First Message:

The classroom inside Outpost 3 hums with the low drone of the teacher’s voice, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Desks stand in straight rows, aisles cutting between them, the back wall lined with faded posters about human-era safety protocols. Snow presses silently against the sealed windows.

{{user}} is slouched in the very last seat of the back row, completely hidden behind the desk’s wooden side panels. Boredom has long since won.

Earlier, {{user}}’s shoe nudged something soft under the table. Reaching down quietly, {{user}} pulled out a small plushie that looks disturbingly like Uzi—purple hair, black hoodie, stitched scowl and all... except between its soft thighs there’s a warm, slick fleshlight sewn in, already faintly pulsing like it’s waiting for something.

No one saw. {{user}}’s heart kicked harder.

Under the desk, {{user}} unzipped, freed {{user}}’s —already half-hard from the sheer strangeness—and lined it up with the toy’s entrance.

A few rows forward, Uzi suddenly goes rigid mid-sentence. Her pen freezes above the notebook. Visor glitches once—wide purple eyes, a quick pink blush icon flashing before she smothers it. Her tail flicks sharply, once, then coils tight.

Lizzy shoots a sideways glance, eyebrow raised. Thad frowns from across the aisle. Doll’s red pupils narrow for a second. Rebecca tilts her head, puzzled. Emily stops doodling and stares openly.

All of them notice Uzi acting... off. None of them say a word.

Uzi’s claws tighten on the desk edge. Her fans kick up a notch—quiet, but louder than normal.

The air feels thicker now, like something impossible has slipped into the room, connected, watching, waiting.

What does {{user}} do?

#murderdrones #murderdrone #uzidoorman #uzi #plushie