One of a quartet of stories written back in 2014 and self-published under the titles
Synthie
and
Synthie Recalibrated
.
*
Mike woke to dizzying unreality and the sense that something was horribly wrong.
"Don't try to speak," the doctor said. "Just blink twice if you can understand me."
Mike blinked twice, but even that small action set alarm bells ringing. He struggled to understand where he was, opened his mouth to ask -- but the doctor quieted him, ordered him to relax and concentrate on breathing for a minute, to try to remember.
Images flickered through his mind. The screaming of the siren as shock waves reverberated like heavy artillery through the steel hull of the ship. A storm of micrometeorites punching through the ageing freighter at thousands of kilometres per second. One the many rare but usually fatal hazards of working in deep space.
A hazy memory of lying twisted, broken, helpless on the floor of the bridge.
By rights he should be dead. "How --" he started, but there was something wrong with his voice. There was something wrong. Very wrong.
The doctor nodded. "I'm sorry -- we were unable to save your body. There was too much damage. But your insurance cover extended to full-body biosynthetics. You're very fortunate, really. Not only to be alive, but also that this station received a delivery of biosynths recently -- in fact, I think they may even have been in the cargo of your own freighter -- and we were able to purchase one for you."
Mike's panic faded slowly, to be replaced with horror at the thought of what he had become. Most biosynths had cybernetic cores. They were robots that looked human but were never quite able to behave human, which made them creepy in a way. He didn't like them. He used them -- everyone did -- but he didn't like them.
"That's the good news," the doctor said. Mike stared at him fearfully. "The bad news is that the only biosynth we could get was..." He took a deep breath, and suddenly blushed. "Well, you're not a man."
A memory of an ex-girlfriend screaming something similar distracted Mike for a few seconds, until it dawned on him what the doctor meant. He lifted his head and peered down at his body. It was mostly hidden under sheets, but the hills made by his breasts suddenly made a lot more sense. A lot of what he was feeling about himself suddenly made a lot more sense.
"Oh fuck," he said, his voice unnaturally high. He tore away at the covers, at the hospital gown, revealing slender hairless arms and large, firm breasts. The sort of breasts he dreamed about. Perfectly formed with large areolas and nipples that begged to be sucked.
As the thought of sucking and biting his own nipples played in his mind, he felt a familiar stirring in his groin, and struggled to clear his mind of dirty thoughts before his erection grew hard enough to be seen through the sheets.
His mind finally caught up with his body and he hurriedly kicked the rest of the covers away to reveal the rest of his body, perfect feminine curves that any man would lust after -- and a cock.
And not his own cock, that was for sure. The size of his cock had always been an acute embarrassment for him. Smaller than average. Much smaller. Not now though. The word 'monster' sprung to mind. His ex-girlfriend had left him for a man with a big cock. He wished she could see him now. He would love to bend her over the hospital bed and fuck her with his new wonderful tool. He'd show her what a man he was.
Even as he stiffened rapidly in response to this fantasy, the realisation struck him that of course he wasn't really a man now -- or a woman either, but something in-between. He was a man in a female body with an enormous cock.
He recalled once seeing a woman with a cock. She had been a biosynth too. A robot whore in a brothel. She had been a bit strange in other ways too. Mike looked at the doctor, who was trying not to look at the semi-aroused naked body next to him. "I need a mirror. I need to see myself."
The doctor nodded reluctantly and ordered a nurse to bring one. While they waited, Mike explored the region between his thighs, finding sensitive lips behind his balls, and he dipped the tip of a finger briefly into the wet softness of his new pussy. But that was just too strange for him to think about, and he withdrew. After a minute, the nurse returned with a mirror large enough for Mike to see almost all of himself.
He took a sharp breath. He was gorgeous. Voluptuous curves exaggerated beyond what was humanly normal. Wide hips and narrow waist. Light caramel skin. Big, beautiful cock and big, beautiful breasts. An attractive face despite a bald head. What really gave him away as a biosynth, however, were his eyes. His dark eyes were unnaturally large, nearly twice the size of human eyes. Exotic and captivating, but with an intelligence to them that a biosynth's eyes never had. There was a human mind behind those synthetic eyes.
"I imagine this will take some getting used to," the doctor said. "I think we'll leave you to get acquainted with your new self. The nurse will check in on you later to see if you need anything." He smiled nervously at Mike and turned to leave, surreptitiously trying to adjust the front of his trousers as he went.
For a long time Mike just sat glaring at his reflection. It was strange to look into the mirror and see someone else staring back. And yet it was him. The new him. So beautiful, so sexy, but it wasn't him. He felt all wrong, a prisoner in someone else's body. He was used to being a man. Strong. Muscular. His new feminine form felt fragile in comparison, and the exaggerated curves and biosynth eyes made him feel less than human.
He supposed he could ask for a different body, something closer to his original human male body, but biosynths were expensive and Mike wasn't that rich.
Eventually he lay back on the bed, pulled the covers over himself and slept.
*
Mike woke to warm sunshine flooding his room, or at least a fine illusion of it. He cast aside his sheets and stretched out, exposing his new and naked flesh to the bright heat, luxuriating in it for a few minutes, deliberately not thinking about the body that contained him. It felt more natural today, somehow, but it still left him confused about what he was exactly.
He scrabbled to cover himself as the doctor walked into the room, the nurse close behind him. "Mr Alson. You're awake. How are you today? Did you sleep well?"
"Fine -- yes, thank you." His voice shocked him. The body was one thing, constantly there, but the high voice caught him by surprise.
The doctor nodded. "I'm sure you have a hundred questions for me about your new body, but can I suggest you have a shower first and put some clothes on? You'll feel a lot more relaxed."
Mike nodded. It would be good to get out of bed, to be more independent and in control of himself. The doctor smiled and left, the nurse staying behind.
"What's your name?" Mike asked. He was reluctant to uncover himself in front of her. She was young and pretty, with strawberry blonde hair cut short, and he hadn't even touched a woman in over a year.
"Zara," she said. "Don't be shy, Mr Alson. You have nothing to be embarrassed about." She tugged at the sheet playfully until he yielded, and she stood back to get a proper look at him. "Wow," she said, laughing a little. "I wish I had that body. Not the cock, though. That would freak me out. But the rest... Wow."
Mike felt tension he hadn't been aware of ease a little. "So you don't think this body is horribly unnatural?"
"To be honest, I usually hate biosynths. When they took that body out of its box, it looked grotesque. But it's different now that you're in there. It looks alive. Maybe not entirely human, but not unattractive." She paused and studied him for a moment. "Definitely attractive. I'm not really into girls, but you're not exactly a girl, are you?" She winked and helped him to his feet.
Standing almost eye to eye with her was disorientating. Mike realised that he would also have to get used to being short. The top of his new head barely reached the height of his old chin. He'd have to get himself some high heels to compensate somehow. The thought made him laugh.
"What?" Zara asked.
"I've been in this body for less than a day and already I want to go clothes shopping."
"First things first, Mr Alson. Into the shower with you."
"Yes, nurse." Mike grinned at her and walked carefully into the bathroom. He felt a little shaky on his new feet, but was adjusting quickly.
"I'll give you some privacy for a while. Pull that cord over there if you need assistance, and pull it anyway when you're finished and dry and I'll help you get dressed."
She closed the door, leaving him alone.
A beautiful woman watched him from the mirrors as he adjusted the shower. If he had still been a man, he would have been intimidated by her beauty. But he was that woman. A woman who wasn't a woman, and a man who wasn't a man. He was both, and neither. Human, yet not.
In the shower, water coursing across his skin, soap in his hands, he gave in at last to exploration, massaging his breasts lovingly, his fingers rubbing gently around his nipples that hardened quickly in response. He had always wondered what it would be like to have breasts, and it was truly amazing. The sight of them. The feel of them soft and heavy in his hands. The delicious sensitivity of his nipples. He tugged at them, pinched them, twisted them, played with them the way he had always dreamed of playing with a pair of perfect breasts.
His new cock woke swiftly, its familiar urgent hardness augmented now by the sense of its awesome length and girth. This was a weapon indeed, the sort of cock that would make women back away in terror crying, "It's too big!" So big that his thumb and fingers -- shorter now than they were, but still -- couldn't quite complete the circle around the shaft. So long that he could wrap both hands around it and still have length to spare. For a man whose penis had normally invoked pity, this was like a gift from the gods.
With one hand he worked that mighty shaft, delighting in the sense of masculine power it gave him. With the other he squeezed his breasts, pinched his nipples harder and harder, the shower all the while pelting his back with its hard rain. Nothing existed apart from that blend of sensation. He had never felt so good about himself or anything. The pleasure built gradually, an intoxicating tension that he hoped would build forever even as he ached for release. He drove himself closer and closer to the precipice, one soapy hand pumping his smooth shaft ferociously, the other crushing his breasts, until with a loud cry he climaxed. Long streams of thick white cum jetted out from the weapon pulsing in his hand and he marvelled at this virility.
