Hi! Here's another story, and my 100th on Literotica! A bunch of fetish fun! WATCH! As a boy is given a shot of a mysterious cosmetic serum by an amoral mad scientist! THRILL! As he has a bad reaction to it and starts turning into a busty hottie. GASP! As, for some reason, this also allows his nipples to lactate and, also, be penetrable!
Mostly above board when it comes to consent, but there's some unethical medical practices/cyberpunk debt bullshit that goes on, so heads up! Also: despite becoming a busty pornstar with a huge hog, protag stays a boy! Or rather becomes genderfluid, or gender wigglyhandgesture? Unsure! Maybe that might be a thing you're into as well!
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The word 'volunteer' had never been so loose as it had been with Nick. Technically, he'd consented. He'd put both his digital and physical signatures to forms with text so small he couldn't read it. But with the kind of corporate debt he'd been put into, asking permission was a formality. Apotheo Systems had offered him a quick and easy way out of his negative bank balance; that they also owned both the debt itself and the collections company that would be sent after him should he refuse was apparently not a conflict of interest.
The building hadn't been here the year before, but things moved fast in the world of drone construction and the bountiful capital of an omniglomerate. Apotheo had tentacles in fields as far ranging as livestock, gengineered seeds, biofuels, all the way to sythetic organs, cybernetic augments, even novelty beverages. All he knew at the moment was what the title of the consent form had declared: preliminary drug trial for an experimental cosmetic. One test. One test and he'd be free. Or at least free of this one burden.
Despite his internal monologue trying to reassure him, Nick paced in the waiting room off of the lobby like a man on death row. Rows of empty chairs making him feel even more alone despite the sounds of the receptionist outside. He wore the same thing he might to a job interview, unsure what the dress code for being a lab rat might be. Clean shirt, slacks, nice shoes. He had plenty of time to notice how uncomfortable it all was. Nick hated dressing up.
After waiting for anywhere between one hour and half a lifetime, the receptionist called his name again. He walked straight into the waiting arms of a trio of guards. They seized all his devices, patted him down roughly, then pushed him down one of the corridors deeper into the facility. He looked back after a while to see that there was only one of the guards left, but with the taser wand on her belt and the bulging muscles in her roled up uniform sleeves, he didn't seek to press his luck.
She 'guided' him past a corridor of cubicles, then to a long wall of open doorways. Each led into a doctor's office, or at least a room that outwardly resembled one. But the fact that there were four diagnostic beds, and that the beds themselves had clamping restraints, implied that this was no mere medical institution.
"Wait here," the buff guard said. Nick tried not to compare her muscles to his own measly frame...and failed.
"All I've done today is wait!" he bitched, hands on his hips like an upset customer. But she was already gone. Without recourse or anyone to complain to, he took some time to search around the room for clues as to what exactly he'd volunteered for.
The room looked brand new, the antiseptic tiling and walls unmarred, the diagnostic beds looking like they came straight from the factory. There was a desk on the far end of the room, appended with a terminal on a swinging arm. Old style cables and the interface made it implied it was a personalized item, at odds with the bleeding edge look of the rest of the tech in the building. The only other real anomaly was the full length mirror.
He examined his reflection in the chrome plating of a faucet. He wasn't exactly that manly. His face was clean shaven, as anything else made him itch something fierce. His hair was maybe longer than it should have been, but his barber shop was seized by eminent corporate interest and he hadn't found a decent one since! But it wasn't like he wanted to put on mascara any time soon. Maybe it would be a normal thing, like a concealer...or a lip gloss! He wouldn't mind some lip-gloss. Especially if it had a fruity flavour.
Maybe twenty minutes after he arrived, he was joined in the room by a new arrival. Bracing for a menacing doctor, he got a woman on the taller side in a dark, unassuming hoodie. Lanky like him, her facial features largely hidden behind a mop of black hair. Slinking into the room without direction from the guard, she sat on a bed on the other side. The newcomer avoided looking at him, preferring to examine the contours and features of her knees.
Nick was deciding whether to introduce himself when a third person appeared. Shoved into the room by the guard, she stumbled forward before lashing back with a backhand that caught the beefy lady across the chin. The sparking wand at her side came out with a hiss of crackling air.
"You're lucky the Doc said not to get too rough," the guard said, her voice mirroring the elemental wrath in her face and white knuckled grip on her weapon. "Whatever beating I wanted to give you for that cheap shot, I'll give to the next chicken-neck decker I catch."
The woman who had cold clocked her laughed with enough venom to kill big game. "Is the trained dog talking to me? What a neat trick! Now be a good girl and fetch the Doctor. Let's get this over with." She capped the demand off with a comical shoo'ing motion, which might have popped a blood vessel in the guard's brain by the looks of her reddened face. She stormed out, muttering curses that would get you removed from most lines of work. Lucky for her that corporate brute was not one of them.
The newcomer was pretty, but in the same way that a well made knife was. Sharp features and a toned body covered in black leather and fishnets, the latter revealing a smattering of circular data ports on her neck, arms, and god only knew where else. In addition to those, the glowing orange and red ink pulsing gently underneath her dark skin was the kind of thing you only got if datarunning and glowjacking were your breadwinners. A decker, in other words: someone who interfaced their mind directly with the Net. Same with her side-shaven hair, which was a startling, aposematic red. That kind of HiVisiGoth style was all the rage with the dotcomdottiere, greynet deckheads and sneakernet runners, but it precluded getting hired at a legitimate institution.
"First off," the red haired woman began, her eyes snapping between Nick and the tall woman opposite him like a security turret's gunsights, "I'm not here to make friends. The name's Ray. Just here to pay some debts. But if the shot's bad, and this is some elaborate corporate bullshit to kill off some undesirable pawns, then I say we rush the guard and make a break for it. You, staring at my ports. What's your name and are you good in a fight?"
Nick looked behind him, only to realize the comment was aimed at him. "Oh! Umm...sorry. My name's Nick. What do you mean by shot? I thought this was a makeup test?"
Ray rolled her eyes. "Look around you, dip-switch! If this was just gonna be blush and lipstick, they would have done it somewhere comfortable. This is a medtech office for all kinds of jacked up chems."
Nick sketched a nod, though he was unsure if she was right. She could be overreacting. Cosmetics had to be tested on people eventually, right? Otherwise they could be dangerous. He worried for a moment that he was in a room with a bunch of ladies and they might see him look kinda femme and silly. That they might make fun of him. Not a thought he enjoyed. But, then again, they hadn't commented that he was a dude in a makeup trial or anything. Maybe they'd be cool about it?
The tall woman on the bed opposite spoke up, in a voice just above a whisper. "I heard they were planning some kind of treatment. Something invasive..."
Ray snapped her fingers. "Aha! You see? Fucked up corpo shit. We gotta be ready to throw banners should the wire get frayed. What's your handle, amiga?"
"Sheryl," she replied, though quiet enough to make Nick wonder if she was second guessing whether talking had been the right choice.
"Well then, Sheryl and Nate-"
"Nick," he corrected.
"Well then, Sheryl and Nate, I think I hear the stomping sound of jackboots. Remember: anything swims, we get froggy."
There was no time to ask what the hell she was talking about, as a new woman entered the room flanked by two of the guards from the search. The newcomer had facial features that hinted but didn't state outright she'd had work done to make her look a certain way. Almost like she was a sinister fae doppelganger of someone else. Her lips were more blatant in their artifice, plush pillows that luminesced with an ethereal purple. Her eyes were likewise distinct. Nick thought it was a case of heterochromia. But rather than two irises of a different colour, she sported one organic eye and one artificial. The organic one had a normal brownish colour, but the iris of the artificial one was an inhuman gunmetal.
Ignoring all three of the people in the room, she strolled past them toward the desk in the back. The skintight bodysleeve she wore dragged Nick's attention along with it as she moved across the room. The rest of her body was obscured, at least in part, by a long and unbuttoned labcoat. Its generous pockets overflowed with various unidentifiable gadgets, diagnostic tools, and other medical ephemera. From these she plucked an injecting device that looked for all the world like a gun that shot needles, as well as three vials of a sealed pink and white compound.
"Good afternoon subjects," she declared, "I'm Doctor Violet. Cooperate, follow instruction, and this will be both a pleasant and informative experience."
"For you maybe," Ray shot back, her feet planted on the base of the bed like she was about to use it to spring forward. "You're not the one getting shot-full of neuro-poison."
Whatever bait the decker was offering, the woman with the purple lips didn't take it. Instead, she winked her steely grey eye three times, causing a musical chime to usher forth and turning the iris an iridescent green.
"Begin recording. August 16th 2093. Doctor Violet Skye, Employee Number 3940-dash-38 assigned to perform Phase One trials of Experimental Serum Epsilon-53, product name pending. Subjects K, L, and M, designated in order of injection." When she spoke, Nick realized that it wasn't just her eye and lips that were augmented. Her tongue glowed too! It glowed purple, same as her lips. Besides their appearance, their function was indistinguishable from an organic counterpart. Whether they were there as replacement for an injury or if they were purely cosmetic, augs that good were so expensive he'd likely never be able to afford them.
She poked the needle gun into one of the pink containers on the desk, withdrawing what looked like a substantial volume of liquid. When she spun back around, she looked ready to go.
"Now. Which one of you will be brave and be the first to enter medical history?"
"Not until we get more information," Ray shot back, her arms folded.
