The Service
by Shawn Montgomery
Horrific Scribes Extremity Rating:
Scott and Alexis
Scott positioned the tablet on his lap, took in a breath, and signed into the Service. A second later, he had an overhead view of the prisoner’s cell. With the night vision activated, he could see Alexis lying on his cot, seemingly asleep.
Scott checked the time—8:30.
That’s odd, he thought. Is he sick?
After choosing a voice filter titled “Welcoming Female,” he turned on the microphone and asked, “Hey there, Alexis. Do you wanna talk?”
The prisoner gave a cry as if jolted awake from an unsettling dream. Gradually, he sat up and peered at the mounted camera.
“Hey,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up.”
Scott smiled. “Not much. How ’bout you?”
Scott had chosen Alexis because he’d immediately understood something in his eyes. A tinge of vulnerability? He had seen that same hardened expression on a few of his students’ faces.
With a chiseled jaw, piercing stare and tightly pursed lips, Alexis also reminded Scott of his ex, Derek, which he admitted was the primary reason he had chosen this particular prisoner.
Despite the initial awkwardness, Scott had gradually come to look forward to his nightly encounters with Alexis. It was a nice comedown from the chaos at school. Sometimes they chatted for an hour or so, sharing carefully worded tidbits from their pasts. Other times, Scott didn’t activate the microphone and just watched Alexis exercise in his cell or read a book on his bed. It was a little creepy, he conceded, but wasn’t everything a bit off these days?
One of the Service’s many guidelines stated that a subscriber couldn’t develop any emotional attachments to the prisoners; a subscriber who did would be subject to immediate termination of their subscription.
Scott couldn’t fathom falling for a convicted kidnapper and murderer. Talking about their favorite movies and television shows without any expectations was enough.
His evenings were a little less lonely.
“I just got home from work, actually,” Scott said. “I’m wiped out.”
“Oh yeah?” Alexis mumbled. “What happened?”
“A couple of my students decided to be dickheads today, but we can’t send them to the principal’s office or even confiscate their phones. They know we don’t have any real power, and they exploit it like little sociopaths.”
Alexis smirked. “Sounds like they need an old-fashioned ass-kicking.”
Scott noticed Alexis had an erection. He was even massaging the front of his underwear as if daring Scott to say something.
“Yeah,” Scott whispered, zooming the camera’s view closer. “Something like that.”
Cody and Jordan
“Wakey wakey, scumbag.”
Earlier, Cody had perused the lighting and sound effects menus, exclusive to the top-tiered, “Executive Plan” members, and chosen a few to use tonight. Without warning, an insane mesh of strobes and onslaught of grinding metal and shattering glass flooded the prisoner’s cell.
Cody laughed as Jordan fell from his cot to the floor. Over the clamor, he could hear the prisoner beg, “Turn it off! Please turn it off!”
“No way,” he said to himself. “I’m just getting started.”
As he watched Jordan stumble around the small cell, Cody wondered how close the prisoner was to breaking. Close, he hoped. He was about tap the “Shrieking Mixed Choir” effect when the door creaked open. A sharp blade of light sliced through the darkened room.
“What are you doing in here?” his girlfriend asked. “Something sounds awful.”
Cody shot around. “I’m making some content. I’ll be done soon.”
“Who’s interested in this kind of stuff?”
Cody glanced at his computer. “I’ll be done soon,” he repeated, his voice sharper.
Robin was familiar with that tone. He seemed edgy tonight, unpredictable. Not wanting to provoke him any further, she crept back out in the hallway, closing the door behind her.
Cody turned off the squelching din and switched the cell’s lighting to “Bright Overhead Florescent.” A dazzling glow illuminated the room. He tapped the “Auto-Tuned Deep Male” voice.
“Had enough, scumbag?”
The deep, automated voice sounded menacing, demonic. It was one of his favorites.
Jordan had crawled underneath the cot and was sobbing.
“Get out from under there,” Cody growled.
Jordan slid out and sat on the edge of his bed. A piss stain ran along the front of his boxer shorts. “What do you want from me?” he whimpered.
Cody grinned. The prisoner really sounded unhinged tonight. “We’re going to play a game,” he said, the booming voice cold and lifeless. “It’s a simple game. I ask a question and you answer it.”
Jordan shook his head. “The hell you talking ’bout?”
“How many people have you actually killed?” Jordan asked. “Not the ones you were convicted of, but the ones nobody knows about.”
“Fuck off, man.”
Cody pressed the “Disorienting Industrial” effect again.
The prisoner’s entire body shook as if electrocuted. Without warning, he leapt up from the bed, ran across the cell and lunged headfirst into the wall. Upon impact, he stumbled back and looked around in a daze. He turned, lowered his head and lurched towards the concrete wall again. This time, he crumpled to the floor.
Cody zoomed closer to get a better look and switched off the sound effect again. He wanted to hear the prisoner cry.
Rolling back and forth like a baby, Jordan wiped a sheath of blood from his face and moaned, “Just lemme alone.”
Cody zeroed in on the prisoner’s face. A large knot had begun to swell along the middle of his forehead, and trails of blood trickled down the bridge of his nose and mouth, separating the two halves of his face.
“I’m never gonna leave you alone,” the amplified demon voice said. “Not until I’m done and happy. Nighty night, scumbag.”
Jordan didn’t respond. He turned to his side, his bloodied head dropping level with the floor, his dead-eyed stare fixed on empty space.
After signing out, Cody stood up and stretched, surprised to find his penis stiffening. He wondered if Robin was still awake; he suddenly felt very horny.
Emily and Diego
Repair.
Emily had thought about that word all week. Her therapist had spoken of it as a metaphor for her healing journey. After the appointment, she looked up the definition: To restore or renew by any process of making good, strengthening, etc.
But she wasn’t a broken toaster oven. The pain wasn’t a nagging buzz inside of a refrigerator. She couldn’t take her crippling grief to a repair shop.
Emily sincerely felt that subscribing to the Service was therapeutic, and the Universe seemed to agree when she was given Diego.
The Service stated that no persons or relatives directly connected to any prisoner could subscribe, and the company’s vetting process was supposedly thorough.
But Emily didn’t have the same last name as Madison. They were first cousins, on their fathers’ side, but close enough in age to be sisters and practically had been.
So, when she had read that Diego was one of a hundred or so prisoners selected for the experimental program, she’d prayed they’d only screen for Madison’s immediate family. Her prayers were answered—a day after filling out the application, she’d received an e-mail granting her access.
She chose the highest tier possible. The monthly cost was similar to a new car payment. Her actual car had dire need for repairs, but she’d take the city bus if she had to. Although she hadn’t bought herself new clothes in over a year, she had a knack for finding nice(ish) threads at Goodwill.
Despite the hardships, Emily was grateful for this opportunity. As long as she could afford the subscription, she’d starve herself if she had to.
Taking a sip of tea, Emily signed in.
Diego sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped, head down. He appeared to be reading.
She activated the microphone. “Hello, Diego, how are you?”
Eager to use the custom-voice feature her subscription offered, she’d downloaded several voice mails from Madison, then submitted the files to the site, where its AI had recreated her cousin’s voice to near-perfection.
Although it was heartbreaking to hear Maddy again, as if she were actually in the cell with Diego, Emily couldn’t fathom using any other filters. She needed him to recognize her cousin’s voice.
Diego looked up from his book. “Hey there, what’s up?”
Emily adjusted the cell’s lighting to infuse the small space with a soft, pulsating glow. “You look tired,” she half-whispered. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Diego forced a grin.
Emily noticed that the tip of his finger was keeping a place in the pages.
“What are you reading?”
Diego looked down to the worn cover and shrugged. “Just an old horror novel they gave me. I get bored reading the Bible all day. Do you like scary movies and stuff?”
Emily chuckled despite herself. She took in a breath, feeling her hands trembling. Focusing on keeping her voice calm and steady, she replied, “I never used to, but I’ve taken to it lately, I suppose.”
Diego nodded as if he understood what she had meant.
Scott and Alexis
Scott’s closed his eyes and pressed the tips of his fingers into his temple. He’d had another brutal day. “So,” he said, massaging his forehead, “what did you do today?”
Alexis shrugged. “Not much to do in the hole. Exercised for about an hour in the yard. Slept a bunch.”
For a fleeting moment, Scott considered asking Alexis if he ever had recurring nightmares of the crimes that he had committed. Instead, he asked about what exercises he liked to do.
Alexis answered Scott’s questions curtly, didn’t ask any follow-up questions. He thought the prisoner appeared particularly distracted tonight, and his aloof demeanor caught him off-guard. He assumed Alexis would be appreciative for their interactions, especially since Scott had always treated him with respect.
But after another lengthy pause, Scott released a drawn-out sigh and said, “I guess I’ll let you go. Looks like you’re pretty tired.”
“Yeah,” Alexis mumbled. “I am, actually.”
“Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Sure, whatever.”
Scott signed out without saying goodnight, something he usually made a point to do.
Cody and Jordan
Watching the prisoner hurt himself, Cody marveled at how great the Service was. Everything was perfectly legit—he wasn’t going to get into any trouble doing this. Sure, the cost was ridiculous, but compared to the alternatives, it was totally worth it.
He wasn’t going to prison for this shit.
Terrorizing neighborhood kids as a child, torturing cats as a teen, assaulting homeless women as a young adult, Cody continued drifting deeper into something he couldn’t quite explain. A few months ago, he was plotting to murder one of the junkies camping behind an abandoned shopping center, but then he stumbled upon the Service’s website.
After answering a series of generic psychological questions, he was supposedly screened, and his application was approved a day later. Perusing through an extensive list of available prisoners, he settled on Jordan—a drug dealer and pimp convicted of murdering three people, including an eight-year old child.
Judging by the dead-eyed expression in his mug shot and the brief description of his crimes, Cody knew he and the prisoner were kindred spirits, the only difference being that he was smart enough not to get caught.
The first moment he signed into the site felt like the first time he got drunk or laid. By the time Cody signed out several hours later, the prisoner was weeping.
This is a friggin’ godsend, he told himself afterwards.
And of course, he wanted more.
“What are you playing?”
“Huh?”
Cody spun around, momentarily disoriented. His hands fumbled across the keyboard like he had just been caught watching porn. Robin took a tentative step inside the gloomy room.
“That doesn’t look like GTA,” she said carefully.
“That’s because it isn’t,” Cody snapped. He exited the site. “It’s something new. Kind of like a VR thing.”
“Oh, okay. Cool, I guess,” she said.
As soon as Robin left the room, Cody reopened the tab.
Jordan was bleeding again.
Cody clicked the trackpad, and the lens closed in on the prisoner’s face. He had a fresh gash above his right eyebrow. A long flap of skin hung loosely over his eye.
“We had fun tonight, didn’t we, scumbag? Get some rest, we’ll play again tomorrow.”
Emily and Diego
Talking to him was difficult.
Just listening to his breezy voice relating what he had for lunch, how long he was allowed to walk around the supervised yard, what books he had been reading… all made Emily want to throw her laptop across the room. But she kept the composure she needed. If Diego suspected she had known Madison, he could tell one of the guards, and her subscription could be terminated.
So, she pretended and thought about repair.
Emily began the night’s interaction by adjusting the lighting to an eerie canary yellow. She then turned up the room’s temperature, another feature unique to her subscription. She didn’t know the exact temperature—the digital control panel was just labeled “Maximum Hot” and “Maximum Cold” with a dozen or so marked increments in between. She had started in the middle of the two extremes and gone up an increment or two each time she signed on.
“Did you do anything interesting today?” Madison asked.
Emily assumed Diego still hadn’t recognized her cousin’s voice despite hearing her desperate pleas not to rape her and to spare the life of her unborn child.
He had listened to her last screams.
Diego tugged at the front of his sweatpants and shrugged. “Eh, same shit, different day.”
Emily clenched her jaw, restrained herself.
“That’s good, I guess,” she forced in a breezy voice. “I bet it gets a little boring in there.”
The prisoner shrugged again, not recognizing her sarcasm.
“Well, I have to go for now. Hope you have a good rest.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Diego replied, lifting his hand and giving the camera a half-wave.
Before signing out, Emily decided to leave the lights on and turned up the temperature another notch. He could bask in those brilliant sunbeams all night.
Scott and Alexis
“Do you want me to take my clothes off?”
“Wha—” Scott stammered.
Alexis stood facing the overhead camera and grinned.
“Um.” Scott didn’t know how to respond. “I suppose, if you want.”
“I’m asking if you want me to. You’re in charge here.”
Scott muted the microphone and murmured, “Oh my god, oh my god.” His legs fanned themselves.
Is this a breach of the Service’s contract?
He didn’t think so. It wasn’t like he was encouraging Alexis to hurt himself.
What do I do? He felt frantic and tried to ignore the swelling in his underwear. What the hell do I do?
Licking his lips, Alexis slipped off his undershirt and tossed it on the cot. His gaze fixed on the camera. He pulled down his sweatpants until they hugged his knees. An elongated outline stood out in the front of his purple briefs.
Alexis rubbed his bulge. “How big do you think I am?”
“Um,” Scott mumbled. As he stared at the predatory expression on the Alpha’s face, he couldn’t help but think of Derek.
“Still there?”
“Um, yeah,” Scott said. “I’m still here.”
“Good,” Alexis cooed. “What else do you want to see?”
Scott’s mouth was bone-dry, but he didn’t dare reach for his water bottle. His finger twitched over the lighting menu until finally pressing the “Bright/Natural” option.
“Good boy,” Alexis said. “You want me to pull these down, too?”
“Yes,” Scott whispered, shifting the tablet on his lap.
“Tell me, then. You’re the one in charge. Tell me what you want me to do.”
His heart thudded in his chest. He hadn’t been so turned on in ages… not since those first few months with Derek. He felt like he had been transported into the body of a horny teenager, dizzied with lust.
“Pull down your underwear,” Scott said, his voice cracking.
Alexis shimmied his narrow hips until the briefs slid around his ankles. His hard-on was large and stiff, practically pressing up against his flat, muscular belly.
Scott groaned and massaged his own hard-on.
“You jerking off right now?” Alexis asked.
Scott nodded, then tapped the unmute button. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “You are so hot.”
He realized he hadn’t turned on any voice filters; he was speaking with his real voice for the first time. It seemed significant somehow, like he had exposed something very personal to the prisoner. He felt vulnerable.
“You gonna cum for me, little bitch?” Alexis asked.
“Uh-huh,” Scott moaned.
As Scott felt himself getting close, the prisoner sneered and yanked his underwear back up. He hawked a glob of spit towards the camera. His expression shifted to derision. “You make me sick, you pathetic little faggot. Is this the only way you can get yourself off?”
Scott gave a choked cry. At first, he thought he had heard Alexis wrong. But as the words settled in his brain, he released his softening penis and stared at the screen, unsure of what to do next.
Alexis gave the camera the middle finger before crossing his arms over his tattooed chest. “Fucking faggot!”
Scott shook his head in disbelief. What a fool, he cursed himself. You are a stupid idiot.
You are fucking pathetic.
The voice hissing in his head wasn’t his own or even the prisoner’s: it was Derek’s.
Scott felt as though a hole punched through him, letting out all the air in his lungs, all the strength in his body.
Lightheaded and numb, he signed out. The last image on the screen was the prisoner jumping on his cot, his middle finger still raised.
Scott remained on the couch for several agonizing minutes, reassuring himself that he was safe, that he was home… that the prisoner was just trying to get under his skin.
But he knew what he felt wasn’t just about Alexis and his hateful slurs; it was about how much Alexis sounded like Derek, especially at the end of their relationship. That language of power and domination.
Tears began to well in his eyes, and he felt exhausted.
But he didn’t want to go to sleep. Not yet anyway.
I’m gonna wait until he least expects it, Scott told himself. Then he’ll be sorry he ever said those awful things.
Alexis was right about one thing—Scott was in charge. And he’d show that punk how much control he really had. Alexis would be begging him to stop when he was through.
He hoped what he planned would make him feel secure again, in control. But he knew, on some level, that whatever punishment he doled out would only widen the gaping, stinking hole inside of him.
He would still hurt.
Cody and Jordan
“Do it harder!”
The prisoner was shrieking. Blood jetted from a deep laceration on his forehead. One eye was swollen shut.
Unfortunately, this was the last session—Cody’s subscription was set to expire at midnight.
Robin had left him last weekend, and this time, she wasn’t coming back. In a fit of dumb rage, Cody had gone to a bar and gotten properly drunk. Driving back home, he was pulled over for speeding down a residential street.
He blew a .2% BAC and spent the night in a cold, smelly cell.
Not having a license anymore meant he had to take rideshares to work every day, and he knew the judge would make him pay a hefty price this time—his third DUI in four years.
Cody had no choice. He canceled most of his subscriptions, including the Service’s.
Despite coming to an end, the whole experience was fantastic. Playing with this asshole every night had been way more satisfying than doing something stupid to some homeless junkie.
He just hoped he wouldn’t succumb to the dark urges again, at least not until he could resubscribe.
Cody glanced at his phone—another hour left.
He picked a sample of children screaming, adjusting the volume to the maximum. He also chose the “Mars Red” lighting setting, which infused the entire room in a rusty haze.
At one point, Jordan managed to yank out one of the cot’s bolted legs and repeatedly struck himself with the jagged metal bar, gouging serpentine lacerations across his chest and stomach. Blood spurted from the wounds and formed oily puddles around his bare feet.
“Hit yourself again,” the demonic voice growled. “Do it and I’ll stop.”
Jordan lifted the makeshift spike and drove it into his stomach. He reeled over and collapsed to the floor.
“Again!” Cody roared, eying the phone nervously.
Forty-five minutes left.
The prisoner shook his head.
Cody switched sound effects to one labeled “Squelching Electric Guitar.” Unbridled feedback screeched through the cell. Jordan covered his ears as if the din pierced his skull.
“Push it in deeper!”
The prisoner’s glistening hands gripped the top of the metal bar. As he pushed it further inside of him, a fountain of blood sprayed from his stomach.
“Move it around. I want to see your guts.”
Jordan’s hands swirled the stake before he pulled it out of his body. Bits of flesh flew from the slick, rubbery gash and began clogging the drain.
The prisoner became limp and still. Cody smiled with bittersweet satisfaction—a truly beautiful sight. He checked the time. About fifteen minutes left.
He decided to spend his remaining time altering the camera view, studying every inch of the prisoner’s mangled body. Occasionally, blood spurted from one of Jordan’s many wounds. Cody gasped with awe.
At midnight, the screen froze, and Cody was redirected to the Service’s home page.
“Phew,” he muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair. “What a way to end.”
Emily and Diego
After signing in, she increased the room’s temperature to the maximum and tapped on the overhead lighting.
Diego surprised her. He stood in the middle of the room, his back turned to the camera. He was naked, his clothes strewn on his cot.
Emily felt genuine concern—he hadn’t done this before.
She adjusted the voice filter and asked, “Diego, what are you doing?”
The prisoner flinched at the sound of Madison’s voice. He finally recognized it.
Emily zoomed in until she could see droplets of sweat trickling down his heavily tattooed back. “C’mon, Diego,” Madison’s voice teased. “Don’t you remember me?”
He spun around and glared at the camera. “What’s going on here? Who are you?”
“So, you do remember,” Maddy’s voice cooed.
Several seconds passed before Emily noticed the prisoner’s penis. She could barely see its tip beneath the full thatch of pubic hair. She lowered the camera’s view to his groin. He was circumcised, that much was clear, but it was one of the smallest penises she had ever seen. Even his testicles were compact and shriveled into the cavity of his body.
She felt a wave of disgust.
In her head, she had envisioned him well-endowed and virile, a predatory beast on the hunt, when he had attacked her cousin.
But now, seeing his actual worm-prick, she wondered how he even managed to penetrate her, let alone have actual intercourse.
She was mortified at the thought.
“What’s happening?” Diego cried.
Emily grinned bitterly. “I’m your karma, Diego. Your true judge and executioner.”
She had rehearsed that line all morning, tweaking the pauses and verbiage, but as she actually spoke the words, they sounded forced and goofy. But the prisoner didn’t smile. In fact, the corners of his mouth drooped, and his face went slack with dread.
He shook his head. “Naw, you ain’t real. You’re just some crazy-assed bitch wasting your money on this shit.”
Emily could admit to some truth in what he’d said. Yes, she was crazy… and she was spending a lot of money, but every sacrifice she had made over the past year to afford the Service was suddenly worth it.
Because now, he was at her mercy.
He was as helpless as her cousin.
And he knew it.
Emily reached down and activated the Audio/Sample tab. It listed songs that the Service offered for top-tiered subscribers, but she could download one of her own.
She cued up one of Madison’s favorite songs.
Diego wouldn’t recognize that detail, but Emily didn’t care.
She turned up the volume until the song’s melodies and chords blended into a deafening, reverberating drone. Diego waved his arms in the air and shouted something undecipherable. She responded by using another subscription perk—the cell’s overhead sprinkler system. After activating it, she adjusted the water temperature to “Maximum Hot.”
Diego yelped and ran around the room like a dizzied zoo animal. He hobbled towards the camera and attempted to swat it. He missed. He tried again but slipped on a puddle and landed hard on the floor, snapping his wrist.
A pang of nausea rippled through her. Gritting her teeth, Emily flicked off the lights, thrusting the prisoner into total darkness.
Since the camera had night vision, she watched Diego push himself off the floor and stumble blindly around his cell. Occasionally, he’d slip on the wet floor and fall back down with an anguished cry.
This monster took Madison from us, Emily thought. This pathetic little man with a little prick. It’s so fucking unfair!
Growing impatient, Emily paused the music and waited for Diego to stop sobbing. She asked, “Was Madison the only one?”
“What? Who?” Diego whimpered. He looked around the pitch-black room in a daze, as if the voice of God Herself spoke to him.
“Never mind,” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Emily played the song again, adjusting the volume to the loudest setting. She had it on a looped playback; it would blast in there for as long as she wanted it to.
With great effort, Diego tore off his bedsheet and twisted the soaked, threadbare fabric into a makeshift rope. He got down on all fours and pawed around him until he found one of the cot’s legs. He tied one end of the sheet to the leg, the other around his neck. He stretched in front of the bed and began choking himself.
Will this even work? Emily wondered.
His face became puffy and splotched, but he remained conscious.
Emily had dreamed of this moment for months, but now that it was actually happening, she didn’t feel anything, no grim satisfaction in witnessing this act of self-destruction.
Is this what being repaired feels like?
She understood that what was happening would fix nothing.
Nothing has really changed.
Sighing with disappointment, Emily signed out. She decided to let the sprinkler and music continue through the night, consequences be damned.
As she stood up and stretched, she realized she had a headache along the base of her skull, and her mouth was incredibly dry.
A cup of hot tea sounded nice.
Want another gripping story by Shawn Montgomery? Read the thematically related Hell Is for Children trilogy, “Burn the Witch” in Horrific Scribes, May 2025, “When I Come Back” in Horrific Scribes, September 2025. and “The Tree People” in Horrific Scribes, January 2026. Also read “Web” in Horrific Scribes, March 2026.