You awaken to the sting of fluorescent lights and a sterile, white room blinding you while your eyes try to adjust to the unusual environment. The floor is soft but unnaturally firm, as though it was made entirely of compressed pillows sewn together seamlessly. It’s cold, so you’re reluctant to get up from your place curled on the ground. Eventually, your eyes adjust and you get a clearer picture of your surroundings.
The room is a box composed of the same material used on the floor, all around. In the corners where the walls and ceiling meet, strips of lights shine, revealing the space with a blanket white glow. Every few feet, a tiny, almost imperceptible line separates the boxy room into segments which could be moved and replaced at will.
What was it you were looking at before ending up here..?
A voice makes itself known to you, catching you by surprise. "Hello, Reader. Do not be alarmed by the strange circumstances you have found yourself in. We at Zenith Worlds have dedicated ourselves to finding those who could use an improvement in their lives, and as such, we have no interest in harming you." It speaks in a semi-toneless manner, an accent undetectable, and a practiced cadence apparent. Strangely enough, you can’t place a gender on it– not that it’s neither masculine nor feminine, but that it lacks an inflection or pitch that would make guessing a simple task.
You sit up and scoot back, leaning against the wall with your knees pointed in the air, listening as the representative of Zenith Worlds continues the explanation. "Our goals include a list of priorities, the first of which being encouraging the spread of joy and fulfillment, physical and spiritual, to all sapient creatures across all universes and facets of life. One’s background, personality, charities, and misdeeds have no bearing on this goal, and it remains our primary cause which drives all actions we take."
There’s a dreadful feeling building up in your chest as you hear this. A strange, almost robotic voice telling you of its good intentions is something out of a science-fiction movie. "Our second priority is to ensure that those whom we choose to make ourselves known to are happy and content with the decisions we make for them. This second stipulation is why we have contacted you before beginning our process. Seeing that you accepted this dialogue, we will soon be assessing every aspect of your life to decide how to best fit you in your new home in Silver City, one small part of Wonderland."
Now you’re terrified. Nope, no, nuh uh, not doing this. You glance around the room, looking for an exit or a pressure plate to push and escape via trapdoor, but there are none in sight. Standing up, you attempt to search more closely, walking over to an adjacent wall, only to feel something pop out of the floor and bind your feet to the ground. You crouch down and place a hand on the floor for balance while the other tries to free your legs from their metal bindings, but another cuff shoots out from the floor and leaves you in an uncomfortable position leaning forwards and holding your weight on the balls of your feet and palm of your hand. Your only remaining free appendage is held close to your body to avoid having it trapped as well. You can feel your heart beat through your chest, fearful of what’ll happen if you get stuck like this, but the pressure on your wrist and ankles becomes unbearable. It’s only a matter of time before you have to put your other hand down to save yourself the back and joint pain. The moment you do, another cuff wraps around your hand and firmly cements you into this odd position.
You flail around, trying to free yourself and only managing to tire yourself out, leaving you vulnerable to what comes next.
As you stand on all-fours like a dog, something from somewhere unseen catches you off-guard and enters your ears. You impulsively pull your arm up to swat it away like a fly buzzing in your ear but are unable to move the limb due to your thick shackles.
That voice over the unseen intercom returns, albeit slightly muted by the earbud-like objects in your ears. "We apologize for any anguish we may have caused, and will work to rectify it in the near future. Research into the commonly held moral principles the humans in this galaxy find agreeable informed us that it was highly likely you would have taken issue with us interacting with you in an unconscious state, even if you had not consciously experienced it."
The voice drags on, speaking in terms you don’t understand. Eventually, the small devices in your ears extend like q-tips poking around in your ear canals. They reach farther and farther, you can’t help but twitch and tense up at the strange and unusual sensations they give you. They pass one, two, three inches into your skull, far longer than would be safe for a human being, or most creatures, for that matter. Strangely, you don’t feel pain or discomfort, merely… fog. Things start to make more sense to you, to the point that you don’t even bother listening to whatever you’re being told because you’re fine with it. Everything is simple to the point you’d be bored out of your skull if you were in your right mind.
This goes on for several minutes until you eventually stop thinking about it. Without any resistance, you let the cuffs in the floor extend and raise you up like mechanical arms. They roll you forward until you face the ceiling, resting three feet off the ground. A platform ascends from the floor tiles and supports your back. Before long, you’re left to lie in what’s practically a skeletal hospital bed. The earplugs retract but remain clipped to your earlobes. Sensation and higher thought returns to you. The first thing you notice is just how… aroused you are. Your penis is as stiff as a board and tenting your pants. Embarrassment floods your face, but there’s nothing you can do,
Another voice, more synthetic than the last, gives a hint towards what happened while you were out of it. "Research complete. Subject is ready for treatment."
Treatment, huh? Uh oh.
Pneumatic noises like steam venting from pipes and cold water pouring on hot metal sound out from behind the walls of the room you’re in. The more lifelike voice informs you of what comes next. "Upon looking into your history and personal details, we’ve found that your levels of happiness would increase by upwards of three-hundred percent if you fulfilled the following roles: Silver City citizen, sex worker, living sexdoll. We also found that you enjoy the Pokémon franchise on Earth. Given this information, and based on your preferences, we have concluded that you would enjoy these roles the most."
You struggle a little, but your arms and legs are still bound. These armlike limbs which hold yours in place have some give, but it isn’t of any consequence. What did they mean, living sexdoll?
"We will ensure your utmost satisfaction with our choice. Thank you for your cooperation."
Immediately, a long, thick, translucent tube descends from the ceiling and stops directly over your midsection. You see something slowly crawling through the tube and down towards you before it shoots out with a wet schlorp and a yellow glob of shiny, opaque, yellow goo splats onto your stomach just as a cup-shaped object latches onto your crotch, covering your genitals entirely. You’re just about to voice a complaint when you feel the cup seal around the base of your penis and start to suck. Your dick twitches from out of sight and all you can sense is the exciting pleasure of something wet coating your cock.
With twitching legs, you immediately throw your head back and close your eyes, something no amount of masturbation has been able to get you to do before this. You don’t even notice the yellow goo on your stomach spreading around your chest and waist. The limbs of the restraints lift your legs into a new position like that of a gynecologist’s chair.
Like rubber, your skin squeaks as it rubs against the metal platform under your back, latex goo covering your back all the way up to your neck where it diverges between both arms. Below, your stomach rises slightly as if you gained a few pounds, but you don’t feel any heavier–lighter, if anything.
The mechanical fellatio speeds up but it’s just not as satisfying anymore. For one, it’s only stroking half as much as it used to, only about half your normal dick size, and two, your balls feel weird. It’s almost like how they pull inwards when you’re about to cum, but instead of stopping, they just keep going until you lose track of their position. What the fuck? Did it just steal your balls?
You look down, opening your eyes to see your shiny yellow skin, toes just beginning to melt away. You tense your feet in an attempt to fight it off but as you see your digits descend out of view while you curl them, they never come back up when you uncurl them. Now that you scrutinize them, it seems like your legs are stubbier, too. Your knees are harder to spot and your thighs are shorter in general. Your legs are being pulled closer to your body, bones hidden under layers of latex.
Your feet have been replaced by oval-shaped paddles beneath your thickening thighs, two painted lines on each to allude to three digits that aren’t really there. The cup on your crotch which previously pointed upwards now extends outwards past your permanently spread legs with room to spare. You can’t even try to move them anymore. It’s a frightening feeling to lose half your height in a matter of seconds.
Then, your arms. Without stopping, the latex spreads to your fingertips where it melts them away like a popsicle in the summer heat. First your knuckles, then your hands. Your wrists are gone next, and before long, your arms end at your elbows. In time, even those are gone. Two lines mark where your fingers should be, but nothing but useless nubs remain.
The vacuum cup around your crotch stops. You look down.
With an airy noise, the cup decompresses and retracts from your groin, revealing absolutely nothing. You start to hyperventilate, deathly afraid of what you’re becoming. A creature with stubby legs and useless arms. They took your cock, too! A mechanical hand rises from the ground holding a cylindrical pink object with a thick, round lip and a hole in the center. It approaches you, pressing the fleshlight into your crotch. Against your own wishes, it slips in without issue.
Without much fanfare, the object binds to your body, leaving you with a thick, rimmed plastic vaginal entrance which acts as a juvenile and oversimplified mockery of a normal human pussy. No labia, no clit, no pee hole or anything but a tube made for sex. The worst part? You can feel it like it belongs to you, your body not even attempting to reject it, yet you can’t move even a small part of it–you can barely move ANY part of your body as all your muscle is lost.
The same thing occurs just below while you panic. Another fleshlight is inserted directly into your asshole, or rather, the fleshlight becomes your asshole. An almost syringe-like tool pushes deep inside the hole, making you shudder as it releases a cold fluid into your bowels. Said organs lose their form and feeling as your insides are simplified into one straight tunnel. If you could vomit, you would, but instead, all that comes up your throat is a dry, rubbery fluid which solidifies and turns your throat into a toy made for someone else’s pleasure. Not even a word or a cry exits your mouth before your tongue and teeth conform to the same cylindrical walls which make up your two new pussies.
Make that three.
With your airway entirely closed like this, you’re given a minute tops before the oxygen in your blood is exhausted and you black out. With how much you’re panicking, it’s cut down to a meager twelve seconds. It’s not long before you’re out like a light.
When you wake up, you come to realize that despite your minimal control over your own body, you’re moving somehow. You open your eyes, or rather acknowledge what you’re seeing as you can’t close them anymore, and take note of the peculiar conveyor belt carrying you and a dozen others like you towards a dubious fate. Even without the ability to turn your head to look around, you’re given one small mercy in the form of a reflective surface angled just right to get a look at your own reflection.
Your body is yellow and stubby like that of a Pikachu. Your arms stick forwards and to the sides as if you’re permanently giving someone a hug and your legs are locked in a spread position, inviting anyone and everyone to enjoy your soft, squishy tummy and three thick, pink, rimmed fleshlight openings where your mouth, dick, and asshole previously were. A joyful smile and bright eyes seem painted onto your face. You’re a perfect Pikachu sexdoll, alive and sapient but unable to do much to show it. You are a toy, and your next stop is written on a sign overhead; the training room.
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Vocalizations are turned off by default.
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In some featureless room in the middle of an unknown universe, heavy machinery starts moving, pistons and pulleys firing up to get working on breaking in a new batch of dolls. They’ll be given all the mental and physical training they need to be added to Silver City’s premium lineup of living sexdolls. You're one of them. You're forced to look on as dozens of figures, human and inhuman alike, watch each of your holes get stretched by the training machine's numerous toy attachments. If this were only a few minutes earlier, you'd have some complaints, but you can't think straight on account of the dildos meeting each other while sliding up your ass and down your throat.
"We at Zenith Worlds appreciate your cooperation. We hope to see you again."",
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