A Soft Reboot Pt 01

I'm in a dark room. I don't remember how I ended up in the room, only what happened before.

I was at a club downtown. It was that time of night when they open up the basement venue and start letting people in through the back. Anyone could skip the line by paying double. Two of my mates, who'd come along for some fun and moral support, had already left to grab a six-pack before the beer store closed.

Not only that, but they complained every time I brought out my phone. Just to post videos and crack little jokes for my followers. I don't have a lot of followers, but with nothing else going on, maybe I could make something out of it.

Cheaper to drink at home, without the wait, they said. And they left. I thought I heard them muttering something about trying to be an "influencer."

But tonight wasn't just about drinking or the followers. I needed to get laid.

My dry spell lasted months, since I lost my job. Mass layoffs -- not my fault, but it still felt personal. My girlfriend brought up a "break" around the same time. It was probably related. That bit of shame clung to me, dragging down my confidence with talking to women. Every job search ended in a dead end, most of the offers were scams.

I hauled my friends out with me, hoping they'd prop me up while I dulled my edges for just one night of fun, just enough to forget about what was wrong and focus on what could be. But they had gone, and I had no one left to stop me.

At first, I told myself it was therapeutic to get a little buzzed. It worked. I felt lighter. I was smiling. The music got louder, and the place filled until it was almost impossible to move on the dance floor without bumping against someone, and soon I was doing it on purpose.

I'm a good-looking guy, a little softened by circumstance, but still tight. I dress well. I've got a face that looks good on TikTok.

A woman passing through the dance floor stopped to give me the full up-and-down,

shamelessly.

It was too loud to talk, so I mouthed,

"You like what you see?"

flashing a grin.

With the dark and the strobing lights, she still looked fantastic. Her skin was poreless, perfectly, almost uncannily symmetrical. That beautiful creature had a long, lithe torso and strong, lean legs. Her fine body was wrapped neck to ankle in tight, black fabric--shiny leggings and a skin-tight mesh top that hinted, just barely, that she wasn't wearing a bra.

I could tell by the way she looked at me; She was mine.

I took her gently by the hip, pulling her close so I could feel her move with the music. My head was full of noise. Time slipped. The beats bled together. Once second she was there, and the next, she was slipping away, already off the dance floor, glancing back at me.

I pushed through the crowd to follow her, needing her. Surely she was thinking the same thing? I made it to the back hallway just in time to see the door shut, then bolted after her, loving the game. I was clumsy on my feet as the world spun. I stumbled out the back door and into an alley tinged with the blue light of the early morning.

"Hey sweetie. I liked what I saw."

Her voice was

perfect.

I felt a pinch at my neck, and then my limbs gave out.

Now, I'm blinking in the cool, dark space,

somewhere

. There are shapes I can barely make out. The walls are glossy, white, or maybe gray. They're lined with deep black rectangles: Screens. And in the middle... is that a fancy dentist's chair?

The lights come on slowly. I brace for harsh, sterile white, but they're soft instead. Gentle. The room, whatever it is, feels warmer than I expected.

It

is

some kind of dentist's chair. I think. I push myself upright, a little unsteady, and immediately reach for my pockets. Wallet gone. No keys either.

A screen lights up, the glow drawing me over. It's the only thing moving in the still room, besides me. My muscles ache as I step closer, but my head is surprisingly clear. Maybe I drank too much? Maybe I ended up in a hospital and they ran out of real rooms? If that were true, how long had I been there?

The screen shows a loading symbol, then cuts to video.

Me. In this room.

I glance toward where a camera should be, but can't see anything except the seams between the glossy panels of the wall.

Then, a chat window pops up over the feed. Lines of text begin to flood in as users join the stream.

"heeeeere we go!"

" 😍 the last guy - hope this twinks good!"

"wakey wakey💋💋"

"finally! it's on!"

"Andi we 🦾 you!!!!!"

I shake my head. Maybe I'm still drunk, having some kind of fever dream. Did I take something?

That's when I feel her.

Soft, strong hands wrap around me from behind.

"I hope

they

like what they see, too."

I jolt at her voice and spin around.

It's her. From the club. But...

different.

"What's going on?" A fair question, considering I'm trying to figure out what the hell she

is.

She's wearing less now, a sleek white tank top and tight shorts. Her arms and legs are glossy with thin seems along the joints. She doesn't have skin; she's made of panels and polished alloy. But her face--her face is real. Or close. Uncanny. Too perfect. Her hair, a black bob, is immaculate.

I try to back away, but she's stronger than she looks. Her grip digs into my shoulders, firm enough to hurt as she steers me toward the chair. I should run, twist free, fight! But I don't. I'm stunned by her, by the room.

She presses me down into the chair. I try to rise.

Snap.

The restraints lock tight around my wrists and ankles.

"

🙃 s

how us what hes got!<-.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯"

"take it off! off!!!!!!!"

"It's okay, sweety, we won't hurt you." Her silicone lips split into a perfect grin.

She pulls out a pair of shears and slowly, gently cuts away my shirt to bare my chest and arms.

I've never been self-conscious about my body. But the stream of comments that follows makes me blush. It's like I'm not strapped down, like I'm not being stripped by a fucking

robot.

"wat a twink

🥰

nice 1, Andi

🤖

"

"she knows what she doing lol"

"Are you Andi?" I ask, my voice tight. "Please, I don't know what this is, but I'm not into it. I don't want to be here, and you're cutting up my clothes."

"I am and I am," she speaks softly, dismissively. "It's simple. Andi. Android. They're not exactly a creative bunch."

She gestures to the screen with her scissors, then drops the ruined shirt to the ground. "Not with names, anyway." She laughs, letting her cool, soft hand drift down to my waistband.

"

😈 😈 😈

Take. It. Off. "

"

👁

that hog

💦 💦

"

The chat

explodes.

I shake my head, heat rising to my face. "Come on. This isn't funny."

"Oh, it will be; I thought you liked attention?" She smiles, cutting away my pants next as she tauntingly grazed my groin with her palm. She keeps it there, covering me while she cuts away my underwear.

"Come on. What is this?" I blush, stiffening under her hand. My goddamn dick betrays me.

The android turns to the screen, her eyes wide and bright. "Ready, folks?"

Nononono

"And here he is!" She pulls her hand away.

"

😴🥱

a verage"

"measure it

📏 📏 📏

"

"OKAY at BEST"

I frown. "What the fuck?" I mutter. What were they expecting? What

did

they expect? I'm an average guy, nothing wrong with that. I didn't even

want

to be here.

Then she grabs my cock and I take a sharp breath, her fingers wrap firm around the base to make it stand. "Jesus!" I gasp.

She measures me against a ruler, declaring, "Five point seven inches. Oof,

terribly

average."

"Hey, I'm not trying to impress anyone here." I snap back, trying to ignore the fact that my whole dick and balls are the focus of a live feed.

"Oh, sweety muffin," she strokes me, maddeningly light. "It's not about

that;

it's about being

... unique.

"

I don't even want to know what she means by that. Panic creeps into my thoughts. I tug at the restraints and they, unsurprisingly, don't budge.

"It's okay, honey," Andi purrs softly into my ear. "I gave you some little robots of your own; they're spreading through your body right now. They'll help us make you... more interesting."

My heart pounds. I stare at her in disbelief, but the moment she brushes her thumb over my tip, I shudder. My body betrays me again. And then I see what's happening to my... my skin.

It's changing.

My forearms smooth out, the hair vanishing. The creases at my knuckles fade. Even the wiry hair around my cock dissolves, leaving me bare. Poreless and artificial, like her.

"Let's vote!" she announces, letting my cock fall against my stomach. It looks more like a high-quality dildo than a penis, too perfect. But it

feels

real.

I don't speak. I can't. The transformation stuns me into silence. It doesn't hurt--but it's wrong. My skin feels new, bare, and not just because I'm naked.

A poll appears on screen:

• Big Stallion

🐴

-- 12" and THICC

🍆

•

🤏 🤏👅

Shrink It! -- a button instead of a cock

😝

• PINKY DICK

🤙

-- leave him something to play with

•

🥫

Short and Thick

🥔

-- like a soda can!!!!

• ONE WORD - LOG

🤡

"What...what the fuck..." My words come out strained, barely there. My stomach drops.

"The people have spoken!" Andi announces cheerfully.

That's when I feel it - the slow, creeping tingle in my entire length.

A graphic of a cartoon dick appears on the screen next to a ruler. It's shrinking.

"Fuck. This isn't real. I can't..."

Andi leans in, her lips pressed against my earlobe. "It's very real. It's very fun, too. Try to enjoy it. All those nerve endings, squished together into something more sensitive. More efficient."

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

"Five inches!" She called out to the torrent of messages that fly by, echoing each measurement on the graphic.

It's smaller, lighter already. It's losing mass with every breath. Fuck. What did they pick?

"Four inches." Barely usable. The length of my middle finger, maybe. Already thinner and still just as hard. My hips buck, I fight against the straps, but it's no use. She's right, it

is

getting more sensitive.

"Three and a half!"

"No. No, please. Don't," I wrench my arms at the straps, looking for something, some way out. I don't know what.

It keeps going. Shrinking. Until it's the length and width of a pinky finger. A mini carrot. A snap pea. A hard, little shaft with a soft, pink head like a fingertip.

"

🌰 🌰

balls look HUGE next to shrimpi

🦐

"

"׺°"˜`"°º× big nuts itty bitty cock i love it soooo much so cute"

"

😂

a nub and two nuggets lol"

"I LOVE THIS"

"bet he can fuck a livesaver lol"

"dont be mean! id suck that lil

😚 🍭

cute as hell"

Oh, god they're right. Andi slides her hand under my still-average balls to lift them, pushing them up close to my tiny shaft.

"See?" She grins. "Way more fun."

She squishes my head between two mechanical fingers, making me jolt. The nerves, so dense and tight, every touch is almost too much.

It's like a dainty version of my cock. Proportionally the same, just... mini.

"It's like a fucking finger," my voice cracks. "A pinky finger. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" I struggle against the straps, as if breaking free would change anything.

Andi dips a finger under my chin, gently lifting my gaze to hers. "Ooooh, but look how cute it is! Fits so nicely in my hand." She wraps my dick completely in fingers, every dense nerve making it twitch. Nothing pokes out.

My face burns. "This is not cute. What are you doing to me?"

"What? Do you have somewhere to be?" she chides. "Be a good sport, and maybe your audience will reward you?"

Did she mean a job? Am I getting paid to be there? Does that matter? My dick is puny! But what choice do I have? If it can be shrunk, it can be unshrunk, right?

"What kind of rewards?"

"The kind where you might not be stuck like this," she says in a sing-song. She lets go of my cock and faces the screen again, hands on hips. "Oh look! They're talking about your balls now. Fun!"

"BIG BAD BOIS!!!!1 obv

🥥 🥥

"

"

🍉

make em swing like melons"

"Nahnahnah teeny tiny to match

🍒 🍒 🍒🍬

"

"

😈 f

uuuuuuck matching this be so funny if they MONSTERS"

"And how would we like to change his nuts today, hmmm?" She asks the camera, tapping her lips.

"

💦 💦

p ump those nuts up ahahaha"

"

🎈 🎈

water balloons lol"

"See what I mean? Creative." Andi turns back and leans over me, stroking my hair. Even my hair felt

off,

thicker and more polished, like hers. "I..." Protesting won't do anything. I already know that. I have to hold onto the idea this can be undone. I groan, quiet. "What's next?"

"Glad you asked!" She beams, ducking beneath the chair. When she rises, she's holding a small, clear sleeve attached to a thin hose that disappears under the seat.

"We're gonna pump your nuts up, the fun way." She winks.

I have

no

idea what that means.

She lubricates the inside of the sleeve, the cold, slick gel glistening. "This'll help it slide on nicely."

I hiss as she presses it over my cock, working the tight, ribbed sleeve down onto the little thing. The ribbed interior grips every inch, all three of them, tugging, squeezing, suctioning lightly at the head. I gasp as it begins to move in slow pulses of tension and release, making me groan. It keeps me suspended at the edge.

Then a

whirr. A

soft mechanical hum kicks in beneath me. I glance at the hose. A thin stream of fluid moves toward the sleeve.

And then

into

me.

I freeze, mouth open, arching off the chair as a cool sensation flushed into my shaft, settling into my balls. They begin to swell, feeling tighter, looking fuller.

"This doesn't make any sense!" I cry out, choking on the words.

"It makes perfect sense. All those little robots in your body make it make sense. You're more like... a toy. We can do all kinds of neat things to you."

The snug, kneading pressure of the sleeve keeps me on a precarious edge without letting me finish. It tugs at every little bit of my mini cock. The pressure down below intensifies--my balls pulsing, fuller, heavier.

"At least we're making it feel good."

"It's not... hmph... not what I thought when you said 'Rewards.'"

Andy laughs brightly, bending down to heft my swelling sac.

"Hmm, this might take a while. I'll be back!" And just like that, she leaves me alone with the feed. The screen fills with me, my body splayed out, restrained, and changing. My body, an experiment.

"LMAO hes so confused

😵

"

"

💓 💓 💓 l

ook at em grow!"

"after he shuld beg for tiny nuts

🥜 🥜

to go wit his cock"

"lol lil acorns for the shrimpi"

"can't believe I'm watching this

🙈

I can't look away

👀

"

I grit my teeth as the pressure mounts. My balls, now bigger than extra-large eggs, continue to fill. But they don't hang normal. They're unnaturally round.

Cartoonishly

perfect and silicone-smooth. And I can feel every nerve as they expand.

I lurch against the restraints, the slow pumping of the sleeve making me mad for release. The thin trickle of fluid keeps pumping in, like nothing I'd ever felt. How long is she going to let them fill? I panic, but it's washed out by the pleasure.

They just get tighter and rounder. Growing. The pressure is distressing. They look bigger than any normal man should have. Like two plums.

"awwww...he like his new

🎈 🎈

sac?"

"

😚

he's trying so hard not to like it!"

"keep pumping!

🍑

"

"i'm new I jus clicked a link wtf"

"lol"

"LOL"

"i bet it would go FASTER if his bitty

🍄

wasn't so small!"

"we

💕

u and yr lil twinkie dont give up"

"is this real????"

" 🤯"

The feed zooms in, the screen dominated by my micro-cock being wrung by the sleeve, dwarfed by the swelling of my balls underneath. I groan as they get heavier, forcing my legs apart to spill down between them, jiggling heavily against the chair.

"Yaaaaas make em bounce-.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´-.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´"

"BIG SQUISHY

🥥🥥💦

"

" ( ( ( iwannajiggleiwannajiggle ) ) )"

Every small shift of my body jogs them, making them wobble like a couple of water balloons. My silicone skin expands impossibly along with their growth.

I was trying so hard not to talk, not to give the jackasses in the chat anything. But my legs are being forced apart by my baseball-sized nuts. A hiss escapes me before I can stop it.

"Fuck...they're...they're heavy."

I don't know how I'll stand after this. How I'll walk. Some kind of harness?

"like a snap pea and two oranges

🍊 🍊

"

"A chapstick and two softballs

⚾🦐⚾

"

"OMG they r almost softballs!"

"LOL LMAO

😝

soft balls"

"MAKE THEM

🙏

🏐🏐"

"ahahaha o god pls no"

My face burns. I can't stop watching as my balls wobble between my legs, they're so obscene they don't even

look real.

And still, the sleeve

milks

my tiny cock with its relentless rhythm. Every buck of my hips is

wrung

from me.

Finally, Andi returns.

She kneels beside me, her hands running over my swollen balls, squeezing, kneading like she's checking for ripeness.

"Please... stop it," I grit out through clenched teeth.

"Really?" She feigns surprise. "Doesn't it feel good to have a nice, big pair of nuts between your legs? I thought you needed confidence."

That stops me cold. My heart skips. My cheeks flare hotter. How much does she

know

about me?

Then it hits me,

that

survey.

The weird, vague employment questionnaire I filled out weeks ago. I was a little drunk, maybe bored. It was so absurd that I just typed in joke answers. I didn't think it was real, I thought it was just a scam, fishing for data. But now...

One answer stands out in my memory.

What makes you feel confident?

And I wrote,

"Big, fuck-off nuts."

Oh

shit.

What else did I say? I can't even remember!

Andi lifts my bloated balls--one in each hand--like she's presenting them to a panel of judges. "Look at this. Big. Fuck-off nuts. Feeling more confident?"

"LOL his mind 😵 ‍💫"

"🧐"

My stomach twists into knots.

"Just one more thing before we stop."

She flips a switch.

The sleeve clenches me hard, and my whole spine arches. It throbs against my cock, pulling, vibrating, suctioning my tip with ruthless intensity. Every pulse wrings another jolt from me, every drag along my shaft makes my body pull tight, my abs tensing.