Work Text:
Jacob picked up the order form and skimmed it, frowning down at the clipboard. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, and tilted his head over to his co-worker.
“Andy, buddy, do we actually have to fill the custom base model requests? We can write their personalities to whatever we want, we do it all the time, so how’s the customer gonna know their original personality?”
Andy smacked the back of Jacob’s head and swiped the order form from his hands. “Yes, you asshole, we do. You don’t know who’s behind any of the orders, you don’t know if someone’s recognized the base model, if they’re associated with the big bosses and have access to the database, hell, you don’t know they aren’t a competitor with the ability to rewind the wipe and check what’s under the hood. I don’t care that you find the database trawling boring, or whatever else your issue is with just following the fucking order form, but I’m not risking my job just because your lazy ass doesn’t want to do a fucking database search.”
He looked over the form, reading through the custom base model section, and then an expression of understanding crossed his face and he barked out a laugh. “Oh ho ho, I see how it is! You just don’t want that boy you keep shuffling to the back of the line to get pulled before you can take him home! Better hope there’s someone else who fits the profile in today’s new batch or you’re just gonna have to suck it up – should have saved up faster, fucker!”
Jacob looked furious, but Andy just laughed and sat down in front of his own work station, tapped through a few screens, then tossed Jacob an order form from his own stack. “Here, I’m swapping you – take this one, it’s all the kinds of mods I know you love making, no base model preferences, so go fuck up one of the toys before you fuck yourself up.”
Jacob snatched the fresh order form, skimmed it, then yanked his badge out of his workstation and stalked out of the room.
Milan startled when his collar buzzed, drawing his attention away from the game of chess he’d been playing with Patrick. Patrick saw the abortive hand movement Milan made towards his collar and grimaced, a look of sympathy crossing his face as Milan stood up, game now forgotten.
“Good luck,” Patrick said quietly, and Milan smiled a lopsided smile, doing his best to not appear too concerned.
“Thanks. Hey, same to you if I don’t see you, yeah?” He replied, and Patrick sent him a little salute as Milan obediently trotted towards the door of the rec area to wait by the door. To his mild surprise, it wasn’t Jacob who showed up to retrieve him – not that Jacob had been using the official requisitioning system anyway, but he’d been here for so long with nobody but Jacob ever pulling him that the fact that it wasn’t Jacob was disconcerting.
The new tech held out a scanner and Milan obediently lifted his chin, giving the tech clear access to his collar, and once the scanner chirruped a cheerful little confirmation noise, the tech clipped a leash onto the collar and Milan followed him down the hallway. When they turned away from the training rooms, though, and headed through another part of the facility, one he didn’t remember seeing before, he started to get anxious – new, in his experience, did not mean good. Finally, the tech stopped at one of the doors lining the hallway and led Milan in. The room he stood in was small, with a nice looking couch set against the wall by the door and a large window in the wall across from the couch that showed off the room beyond – a sterile looking box with a table in the center and a number of machines attached to the ceiling, arranged so as to not block the view. Milan’s pleasant smile slipped into a hastily cut off chuckle – the machines hanging in the room reminded him of, viscerally and suddenly, of GlaDOS, and his brain latched onto that in order to keep his mind from what he was suddenly sure was about to happen.
The tech turned, raising an eyebrow. “Something funny?”
Milan paled, ducking his head. “Sorry, sir.”
“Nah, it’s alright – just never heard a laugh before when an unaltered base’s seen all that for the first time,” the tech replied in an easygoing tone, waving at the window.
Milan nodded, and the tech continued, locking the door behind him and then leading them to the door to the room beyond the viewing window. He swiped his card again and took Milan over to the narrow table, gesturing him to lay down on it. Milan did so, his nerves rising, and the tech bustled around him, arranging his limbs on floaters off the edges of the table, thoroughly strapping him down, unclipping his collar, and, finally, doing something Milan couldn’t see with a keypad at the head of the bed.
“No, seriously though, was it something funny? Or you just laugh when you’re nervous?”
Milan startled, not expecting the tech to actually make conversation. “Ah, no, I just thought the machines up there,” he waved a hand at the ceiling as much as was possible with his arms now strapped down, “reminded me of GlaDOS, is all, sir.”
The tech laughed, amusement clear in his tone as he replied, “Well! I’d never thought of it, but I can’t say you’re wrong…” he trailed off, tapping a couple more times at the keyboard, then patted Milan’s head.
“Alright, boyo, if you hadn’t guessed, it’s go time for you, and let me tell you, it’s your lucky day – got a special order in, custom requests for the base model, and you’re the only product we’ve got who fits the bill. I’m sure you’re absolutely devastated that Jacob won’t be taking you home with him, of course.” He smirked as Milan tried and failed to keep the relief off his face.
“Yeah, I thought so. Ok! Showtime!” The tech flashed jazz hands above Milan’s bemused face and then walked away, retreating through a door on the other side of the chamber from the observation room. The door clicked closed and Milan was left staring up at the machine that did, actually, look a lot like GlaDOS.
There was a click, then Milan heard a voice from an overhead speaker.
“Alright boy, give me a thumbs up if you can hear me,” the tech said cheerfully, and Milan flashed a thumbs up, his bemusement at the tech’s attitude only growing.
“Great! We’re doing a narrative, minimal anesthetic process today by special request, so let’s get started! First up, let’s get you just a little high, yeah?” A mask descended from one of the ceiling machines, sealing against Milan’s face, and, while he couldn’t smell whatever was being pumped through it, he instantly felt just a little bit far away from his body, not totally untethered but not wholly there either. He didn’t know what kind of cue the tech was waiting for, but it wasn’t long before his voice cut in again, surprising Milan.
“And now, sterilization time!”
There was a hum up by the ceiling, then a panel of vaguely flickering blue light dropped slowly through the room. When it passed over Milan’s skin it buzzed faintly, like a very light violet wand, and continued through to the floor.
“Ok, now that we’re all clean on the outside, let’s get you trimmed up so we don’t waste any of the nanobots – those little buggers are expensive!” The tech laughed, and Milan’s eyes widened as the machines on the ceiling shuffled around, revealing four wickedly sharp looking circular saws. Like a bad horror movie, they all switched on at once, ominously hovering for a moment before the machine lowered them down and all Milan felt was pain.
An indeterminant interval later, Milan finally managed to return from the sparkling, all consuming pain. His shoulders and hips ached and his breathing was ragged, gasping and choking on nothing but the screams, but as he lay there, tears fogging his eyes, he realized the pain was gradually fading.
“Back with me, boyo?”
He heard the tech over the loudspeaker and groaned a vaguely affirmative noise.
“Great! Alright, let’s continue! I went ahead and added the nanobots while you were still screaming, since it didn’t seem like that was going to stop before you actually passed out, and if you could move your head you’d notice they did a great job wrapping some fresh skin over your new nubbly joints! You’ve got what I like to call the wiggler – just enough left that you could wiggle yourself across the floor if you worked really hard, not enough to get in the way! Those ‘bots are also working on your insides – I think you missed most of the painful part of that since your nubs were still bleeding then, but they’ve got your internals shaped up and more durable than ever!”
Milan groaned again, blinking his eyes to try and clear his vision, and then flinched violently when one of the machines suddenly loomed right up into his face.
“Next step, gotta take care of those senses – gonna pop some real fancy contact implants into those eyes, some ear-control mesh, you know, your basics. These contacts are our newest upgraded product – used to, the old ones inevitably led to fuzzier vision, which, well, it’s not like a sex toy needs to be able to see well, but some people want what they want, and now you’ll reap the benefits! Or you won’t, I dunno how you’re gonna get used, but hey – you’ve at least got the potential to be able to keep seeing!”
The machine cleared the tears away and held Milan’s eyes still, a painful, invasive process he couldn’t work out, and then there was a cut, the slightest scent of burning, a fuzz in front of his eyes, and then a flash from purest dark to crystal clear. Small protrusions reached into his ears next, and Milan realized the sterilizing light must have cleared away any earwax because he could feel the mesh being laid against the end of his ear canal. It sparked, the pain shooting through Milan’s head, and then faded – the slightest pressure, something that would likely fade out the longer it stayed in the background. His hearing dimmed a moment, going totally silent, and then slowly returned.
“Client got back gratifyingly fast, doesn’t want any facial changes, and the nanobots have taken care of all the internal changes – well, almost all! We’ve just got a couple more things to do to you before you’ll be ready to get packaged up!”
The machines changed out again, this time hovering ominously at his crotch. One pushed itself inside his cunt, which, he was shocked to note, was sloppy with lubrication. Over the speaker, he heard the tech laugh.
“Aw boy, you knew you were a freak already – your answers to the intake questionnaire were a fucking delight, I gotta say – so don’t tell me it’s a surprise that the nanobots made your cunt just as wet as you know your brain is right now,” he chuckled, and Milan felt himself flush – that interview had been horrifically embarrassing, Milan confused and frightened and newly ‘acquired’ and drugged up on so many inhibition looseners and aphrodisiacs that his desperate begging had drawn a crowd of laughing techs to his stall, in those early days before he’d learned that docility and obedience were the only thing that got him out of the hell that was slowly going crazy in the plain white stalls the new arrivals and those with chronic misbehavior were consigned to when no one needed them for anything.
The one in his cunt bottomed out and Milan groaned as a feeling like a million little needles hit his cervix. He felt liquid fire brewing within him, something changing painfully, burning and stretching and reshaping, until finally the pain faded once more. The machine pushed forwards again and, to his shock, Milan felt his cervix just give, and he clenched up, a shocked moan pulled from his lips.
“That’s right, boy, nothing wrong with enjoying yourself – nothing in the work order saying you ought to hate everything when we’re done.”
Milan felt something inside himself, but he couldn’t figure out what the sensation was, only that he seemed to be filling – at first he thought it was his body playing tricks on him, but then he realized that his belly was slowly being stretched, ballooning out in front of him.
“Right, that’s the baby sorted,” the tech said, and Milan let out a strangled gasp, almost forgetting himself, and then clenched and moaned when he felt whatever had been pushed inside of him move.
“You’re now the proud papa of one genuine vibrating babydoll! No need to worry about actually giving birth, boyo, just all the fullness, discomfort, and stimulation and none of the mess of an actual baby!” The tech sounded gleeful, and Milan shuddered, his cunt clenching and his uterus so full, full in a way he’d never expected it to be.
The other machine that had been hovering had a thinner probe on the end of it, and as soon as the machine inside his cunt had withdrawn that machine swooped down and pressed itself to Milan’s urethra, slowly sliding in and stretching it open, and Milan’s eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation.
“Final stop here before we get you packed up to go to your new home! What you’re feeling now are small, body safe ball bearings – we’re going to load your bladder up until it’s full, really stretch that. Don’t worry about making a mess afterwards, either – the nanobots will hold that bladder sphincter nice and tight until your owner gives them the signal to release!”
Milan groaned and felt his cunt slicking even more as the pressure in his bladder slowly increased, until he was painfully full, the ball bearings heavy inside him. He panted softly, a sheen of sweat covering his body, and focused on the sensations now filling his belly, the weight and movement and stretch and pull of it all.
The tech came back in with a wheeled cart and lifted Milan onto it, ruffling his hair after he set him down.
“Well, don’t you just look a sight! Now, let’s get you over to packaging – lucky you, slated for the overnight overstimulation route – and get you on your way to the rest of your life!
Milan nodded, his head fuzzy, and stared up at the ceiling as the tech rolled the cart down the hallway.
On the desk Andy had just vacated, the work order lay in the completed tray. Written in the base model extra customization field was a list of kinks, with the line “base model should have expressed interest in extreme kinks pre-acquisition” and, several pages in, under the mental conditioning notes, the line “increase present interests enough to make it easy to convince the toy that it is meant to be where it is, without breaking it of it’s sapience or intelligence.”
In the operating room, the blue light slowly scoured the room, catching the traces of blood and fluid that had spattered about. The overhead lights clicked off, and the machines hung there, silent in the dark.