Joe threw up for the third time, bracing himself against the wall with one ragged hand. Except he wasn’t really throwing up; this body didn’t eat, and didn’t have food or digestive juices inside it, but that didn’t keep him from feeling nauseous and disoriented.
“What… what the fuck?” He gagged the words between dry heaves. I’ve killed men before. I should be used to this. He remembered his first time, out in the desert, gun to the insurgent’s forehead. Once the adrenaline fled, there was always nausea at seeing a life snuffed out… at having done it yourself. But you got used to that nausea.
This was something else entirely. The whole body he occupied made him feel like he was twisting inside out, and when he looked down at himself—at the thing, this mash-up of gears and wires and oil and flesh that was very much not himself, he became even more dizzy.
“Reshy.” His voice had become richer in tones now, modulating itself naturally. But right now it emerged as a hoarse whisper. “Reshy, where are you?”
“Oh, now you want me around?” The tinny peep echoed off the nearby machinery, but Joe could see her small burlap body lumbering along. “I’m over here trying to catch up with your giant butt. In more ways than one, now! Damn, you practically fell off from up there. Did he hurt you that badly?”
Joe looked down at himself again, trying to find out the answer. He fought off another wave of nausea and disorientation. This is the only body I’ve got right now; it’s all mine; why can’t I control it like I could a minute ago? Maybe I’m just too tired? Or do I have some sort of virus? The thoughts rattled around inside of his skull, making him feel even worse.
The doll body’s skin remained torn and unhealed in places; in others, the skin bubbled and cracked in others where new flesh was trying to cover the gashes and rips he and Diji had inflicted on it. Either during the fight or afterwards, he’d lost the brackets and joint-protectors that he’d originally taken for parts of the body, but which the wrapping of skin and muscle hadn’t incorporated into the doll’s new soft, human-mimicking form.
Joe’s palms were a ragged mess, shreds of synthetic skin flapping against smears of some sort of lubricating gel. Without pain, he realized, I could push this body’s magical motors, or whatever they are, until it shatters and pops. There’s a reason organic life developed pain response.
He ran a hand along one side of his smooth, delicately formed face, moaning. Organic life? He was an example of organic life… he wasn’t some puppet robot freak! Joe felt the bile rise in his throat again, and he gagged and leaned forward. The doll’s breasts swayed, making him wince.
It was disgusting, having these things attached to his chest. He couldn’t ignore them the way they were now, soft and round and heavy instead of just a molded section of mechanical chassis. If he stayed still, he could ignore that he now had jiggling cantaloupes… melons, gazongas, funbags, tits, boobies, yabbos…
Joe slammed his head against the wall, grabbing at the pliable mounds. “Get these fucking things off me!”
“Whoa, whoa!” Reshy was at his knee. “Settle down there. You’re going to hurt yourself worse than you already have. Shit, I don’t even know if the regenerative system is unlimited or needs an energy source. It looks like it’s slowing down already.” Above her, the doll’s red eyes rolled crazily to stare down at her. “Just… take a deep breath. Or pretend to. Your soul is trying to reject the body it’s in; that’s… normal. Well, normal is the wrong word for any of this, but… it’s at least expected.”
Joe couldn’t process what the little burlap toy was saying. “I have to change back, turn the dial back. Counter-clockwise…”
He felt at his hip, but Reshy’s voice stopped him. “NO!” Her bark was shockingly loud and commanding for the size of the creature it had emerged from. “Just… just give it a second, all right? You’ve sustained a lot of damage, even before… what you did to Diji.” Joe winced again. “Some of it is internal, remember? And the whole reason you elevated sync was to kick the regenerative system in.”
“I didn’t realize it would make me… make me all fleshy!” Joe clenched his torn hands over and over. This is all impossible, too weird, this is not possible, I can’t do this. His gaze roved around and landed on something even more upsetting: the metal surface of the machinery opposite them, scratched with age but still reflective.
He saw a young girl with a shocking sweep of blue hair, her torn leotard and tights exposing her pale skin. She looked lost and scared, not at all like a hardened veteran or a robot doll—save for the uncanny red eyes. Tears streaked her face as she clutched herself. Was she crying? Am I crying?
“This was my idea,” Reshy admitted. She looked up with big black button eyes at Joe. “There was no time to warn you about rejection dysphoria… and I wasn’t sure.”
Joe stared at her dumbly, still struggling to reconcile this situation: trapped like an animal inside this doll—a voluptuous girly doll, he gagged to even think it—and feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Reshy, this woman who was trying to help him, stuck in something more alien: pieces of sackcloth stitched to look like a rough humanoid form.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “This must be even worse for you.”
The burlap sack moved its head; maybe she was shaking it? “Don’t worry about me. My sync level is still so low that I don’t feel connected to this toy, even though it’s the only way I’ve been able to move or perceive anything for… weeks? I can’t keep track of time. Your soul is fighting against your body’s original purpose and design because you’ve raised the sync level enough that you’re feeling the body as if it’s a human body. Except it’s not your body…”
Joe laughed, but it came out as a mellow, bubbling giggle. “No shit. I’m a… man trapped in a woman’s body, literally? All tits, and ass…” He reached around to plump the doll body’s ample rear. “And… and… I’ve got a…” Joe moved his hands to his front side, down to the flatness between his legs. There was nothing there—nothing like he’d once had.
The sudden absence made him gasp; his hands scrabbled inside the folds on the leotard to feel for any kind of… anything. There was nothing there; just a smooth expanse of skin creasing between his round thighs… just like a doll. He had the same sensation as if he’d run his hands over his silky thighs instead of his crotch. His fingers flew back up to his chest and gripped at the breasts again, digging into their soft flesh like talons, squeezing them hard enough that he could feel the synthetic flesh squirm under the pressure. The doll’s fingernails were blue.
“Just take a second,” Reshy said quietly, moving closer to put her hand on Joe’s trembling leg. “You’re experiencing extreme body dysphoria. Do you know what that means?”
“It means you hate being in your body, right?” Joe muttered. “No shit. No shit! This is what you meant when you said the body would affect me back? You didn’t tell me I was going to turn into… into some kind of freak!? If I can’t turn the dial back without falling apart, I’m going to… I’m going to find a damn knife and hack these things off.” Joe’s gaze darted around wildly; his breathing grew ragged.
“Hey!” yelled Reshy. “Hey, slow down! You’re panicking, and breathing exercises aren’t going to help you much when you’re not actually using oxygen. Look at me.” The little toy waved her hands. Joe focused.
“If your body were like the other dolls—me, or those sad bastards downstairs—you wouldn’t have any choice about how it interfaces with you. But because of the modifications, the data port and dial on your leg, you get to make choices the rest of us can’t. You can own your situation, Joe Craigan.” She was shaking a tiny fist in his direction. He just stared.
“I don’t want to own…” he thrust his hands up and down the feminine form, “…this product of an oversexed imagination.”
“Let me lay it out for you. You can turn the dial back down. Your sync level will drop; you’ll lose some control over this body, no regeneration, but no skin over the bones either. Probably be easier on your brain.” Reshy spoke gently but firmly, like she was explaining something obvious to a child. “But think about that carefully. We’re in hostile territory, trying to get our bodies back. If we play our cards right, this is all temporary.”
“Or?” said Joe slowly. His eyes locked on hers as they shifted from her roughly stitched eyebrows to her big button eyes. “What’s the alternative… I could just leave that knob alone until I’ve gotten used to having breasts? I’m a man. There’s no way I’ll get used to that.”
“Or,” corrected Reshy, “You can turn the dial one more step. The next sync level… you must be on three now, so next would be four, right?” She tilted her little head as if thinking. “If you elevated to four… if I’m remembering my notes correctly, your gender dysphoria would ease considerably. Based on what I could analyze, there’s another system that will kick into higher gear to take care of corporeal dissociation symptoms and neural lace interference.”
Joe narrowed his eyebrows at her. “In English, please. What’s that going to do—make me stop feeling so sick and nauseous?”
Resh patted his arm comfortingly. “I’m not sure, exactly; it might make you more comfortable with the body, with being a woman. Or… it may simply give you the mental reinforcement to cope with the situation.”
“When people are in situations like this their brains often get all jumbled up: the limbic center takes over from the rational part of the mind, because the body is being given commands according to its habituated pattern of—” She held up her hand as Joe started to say something. “Fine, I get it. No long-winded explanations.”
“I just want to get this over with,” scowled Joe. He staggered to his feet, feeling the cold concrete beneath the thin stocking-like garments on the doll’s legs. If I stay at this sync level, I guess I don’t need shoes. The soles will just patch themselves up. I can’t get used to this shit. “Which way to we go to get out, get to wherever we’re going? I can… I can handle this for now.”
“I think we’re close to the above-ground portion of the complex. Maybe through the door at the side of the loading bay?” Joe looked to where Reshy gestured: a steel exit set into a huge hangar door. He scooped her up and started moving, impatient to focus on anything but his body.
Unfortunately, his body was in motion and swaying. The fresh padding on his hips and rear changed his gait. He felt his thighs rubbing together, smooth skin sliding across smooth skin… and those damn breasts, swaying and bouncing.
“How do girls fight with these things?” The growling complaint sounded whinier in his girly voice.
“Don’t bitch about it,” piped Reshy. “Your body is fine-tuned for that shape, and although your breasts are juicy big and may feel like a human woman’s, the blueprints I accessed suggested they’re designed to resist impact and move fluidly when your chassis accelerates. I bet they don’t even hurt… and you without a bra for your double D cups!”
Joe just scowled. Bra… there’s no way I’m wearing a bra. Well, maybe a sports bra, if these things get in my way at all. He pushed the door open. He gasped—they were outside, and the night sky was full of strange stars, with a purple streak slashed across the cosmos. “Shit,” he said. “Are we on some kind of fucking space station?”
“Could be,” said Reshy. “I didn’t have clearance to even ask those kinds of questions. This way!” To their right, a causeway connected to the huge hangar doors of the loading bay, but they turned left, towards a concrete balcony.
Joe’s astonishment only grew as he stared down at what looked like the grounds of a wealthy English manor, complete with a hedge maze, fountains, and lit with gas lamps. In the distance, a three-story house of pale stone presided over the gardens and gravel drive.
“You must be shitting me. What is this, some billionaire’s private dimension? A historical re-enactment?” Figures moved below, some in old-fashioned uniforms and others in tailcoats. He couldn’t make out their faces, each one somehow shrouded in shadow.
“Welcome to the proper trials,” said Reshy. “I didn’t realize they’d all activated… this is going to pose a problem.”
He set her on the railing of the balcony. “What kind of problem?”
“Let me put it this way… we will not be able to fight our way through. It’s going to take some jumping through hoops to trick the systems running this complex into thinking we’re supposed to be here. You, specifically… I can ride along, if you carry me; I’ll just pretend to be a trinket.”
“Stop being so cryptic.” Joe adjusted the straps of the ragged, blue leotard, suddenly feeling self-conscious despite their perch on the lonely balcony. “Hoops, trials… what the hell is the point of all this?”
“Near as I can tell? To determine whether bodies like yours are ready for action. You’ll have to pass quality assurance.”
Joe smirked and wiped a fleck of dried mechanical gore from his cheek. “Bring it on.”
Can’t wait to see more.
That's really good, I will wait for more
Thanks for the chaps!
When will we get new chapters
Just posted a couple hours ago!