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"I mean it sir, I think we made it *too* good" [Hapto x SubWarp]

Hapto

Hapto

Super-Earth
Joined
May 12, 2011
"I mean it sir, I think we made it too good."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"... yes it's a bad thing! They deserve to know!"

"They signed the consent forms, and are being very well paid to - "

"They think they're testing a sex toy!"

"They are."

"But it's - it's too good, really! It'll keep going, keep learning, keep adapting. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until they are -"

"You really need to stop watching Terminator. Seriously, just relax, Private -"

"But - "

"That's an order."

"... Yes sir."

"Now," a button was pressed, transmitting the next sentence through the double-sided mirror and into a sterile white, featureless room, where you wait, and hear: "Are you ready to begin?"
 
I paced about the room, my impatience getting to me. I couldn’t believe my luck when I had called up the number for this test. The money was too good to give up – I’d been unemployed for the last month – and who could pass up a chance to get paid for testing out a sex toy? Sure, I was a little self-conscious that they were going to be watching, but the room actually helped a little with that. Everything felt very… clinical, in an odd sort of way. Not at all what I had expected.

Not that I had much to be embarrassed about. Though, I didn’t have much to brag about either. I was an average guy: brown hair, brown eyes, average build. I was slightly taller than some, at six feet, but not enough to really be noticed. I was dressed casually, in a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a white collared shirt. I knew I didn’t stand out, but that seemed to help with the whole application process. Something about it making me a good test case.

I stopped myself as the voice came through a speaker hidden somewhere in the room and faced the wall that seemed to be the best guess of where the voice had come from.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go. What should I do first?”
 
Lines of light grey criss-crossed the white roof and walls, between which a dark border of black gently vibrated with the words:

"Excellent. Just get undressed if you would."

You heard a faint hissing as a short section of the wall slid outwards, holding what looked like a square trash-can.

"Your clothes will be cleaned while the trail is underway," the voice from the speakers added almost as an afterthought. An expectant silence followed.
 
I'd expected that to be the next request, so I nodded and pulled my shirt over my head before tossing it in the waiting receptacle. My pants, shoes, and boxers were quick to follow. It felt strange, standing there naked like that, not even knowing who was watching. I told myself that I had nothing to be embarrassed about. I was in good shape, maybe not overly muscular, but fit. No girl had ever complained about the man downstairs, either. I'd always taken that as a good sign.

"My wallet's in the right pocket," I mentioned. Hopefully, they'd not wash it along with the rest.
 
"Mmhmm, yes the red one," the voice from the concealed intercom 'answered,' dismissively and inaccurately. Before you could protest the bin and panels slid back into the wall, taking your clothes with them, leaving you naked in the sterile room.

"Now," the voice begins, "please begin the prescribed stretching routine."

A hiss sounded as another panel of wall moved inwards. The panel then splits in the middle, opening into the wall to revealing a slit containing something small, thin and white. Whatever the object is, the wall dispenses it with a loud 'phunk' and enough force to strike you in the head.

It was more shocking than painful, the object that struck you turning out to be a cardboard pamphlet, one corner crumpled from the impact against your forehead. The pamphlet lay now at your feat, the cover showing the first in a series of basic stretching routines.
 
The mistake was looking straight at a flying object. My yelp as it hit me in the head was less than dignified and I could feel my cheeks burning as I picked up the cardboard pamphlet and leafed through it. I hadn’t done stretches like these in years! I sighed impatiently and reminded myself of the paycheck awaiting me at the end.

I started with the neck stretches before lifting my arms up and behind me to stretch out my chest and biceps. I had to admit, it felt rather good. My enthusiasm renewed, I took to the rest of the stretches with vigor, though I was not flexible enough for a few. Hopefully, the fact that I tried would suffice.

“Alright, that was easy enough… what about the fun stuff?”
 
"- at least have informed consent," you hear from the intercom, the voice different to before, sounding younger and much more insistent.

"For the last time," the familiar, older voice from before, but more strained now as it emphasizes: "Private - relax, and do your job. Now, where's the intercom switch again, ah yes."

A few confused moments follow with the intercom hissing on and off, as someone tries to press a button that was already on, resulting in a few false starts:

"N- Now w- N- Ahem... Now, tester, would you please open the marked test package so we can begin."

The room remains blank and featureless, containing a naked you and nothing else.
 
I did not like the sound of this, not one bit. I’d seen enough science fiction to know you don’t sign up for military trials! Especially when run by people who didn’t seem to know how to use a simple intercom. I folded my arms across my chest and put on the sternest look I could manage – it was more for my benefit than anything else – before raising my voice.

“First off, I don’t even have a ‘test package’, but I don’t want one. I want to know who you people really are and I want out of this damn room. In whichever order. Now.”
 
It would be natural to expect a long silence here, or fumbled denials, a charade about the intercom not working properly, etcetera. Instead, several panels of the wall indent, and slide apart, revealing the corridor you used to enter the room.

"Exit is down the corridor and to your right," you hear from the intercom, "thank you for your time, tester." And that, appears, to be that.

Until: "Of course, as per the consent form you signed, there will be a cancellation fee of $10,000. Thank you for providing your bank account details for payment, we will process your fee as soon as you leave. Goodbye."
 
“T-ten thousand!” I sputtered, my mind running in panicked circles at the number, “I don’t have that sort of money!”

I didn’t even know someone who would be willing to lend me anywhere close to that amount. My accounts were running on fumes as it was, this penalty would put me completely under. I’d only have the clothes on my back. Or, I would have, if they hadn’t whisked those away as well.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll… I’ll continue,” I replied, my shoulders slumping in defeat.
 
"Excellent," the intercom announces in a chipper tone, as before you the wall reforms and seals over the exit.

"And," the voice continued, "I am pleased to announce that your full cooperation allows me to offer a bonus to your agreed upon payment. Bringing it to 14 - lets say $15,000, tax-free. On an unrelated not you did fill out your next of kin-details didn't you... yes here they are, now, please open your provided test package.... Oh, shit, one moment."

A panel in the wall moved, the same one that previously disgorged the exercise pamphlet, now opening wider to reveal a cardboard box a few inches across and covered in yellow-and-black danger-lines. The box is disgorged with a soft phwunk, the small package striking the floor and, instead of exploding, bounced one, twice, landed and rolled to a stop at your feet, the top-side showing the label: "TEST PACKAGE PX9.1" A lot of fine print is crammed below the title, filling the rest of the small label.

"There," the intercom continues, "please open your provided test package so we can begin the trail, and earn you your $16,000, tax-free."
 
I peered down at the package suspiciously for several moments. With the way things had been going, I half expected it to start moving of its own accord. Still, the bonus certainly helped to motive me, especially with the voice on the other end increasing it by the minute. And hey, at least they didn’t hit me with the damn thing this time. Maybe things were looking up.

I bent down and picked up the package gingerly, but relaxed when it just seemed like an overly decorated box. I squinted at the fine print, but as I tried to read I could already feel my brain glossing over the legalese. It wasn’t like I had a choice in any case, I couldn’t afford their penalty. I’d simply have to hope for the best.

My hands searched for the seam on the end of the box and pulled, opening the test package.
 
Inside the small package sat a... blob. A small, semi-translucent, vaguely pink, almost spherical - blob.

And worst of all, the blob was glowing faintly pink, and as you look down at it, it seems to, somehow, be looking back up at you. No, worst of all was when it said in an resonant female voice:

"Good morning, Dave."

Your name was not Dave.
 
I held the strange little blob in my right hand and stared at it for a long time. Of course it had to be pink. I hated pink. Still, I could see why they kept this whole thing so hush-hush. I’d never seen anything like this before, not that I spent much time looking at sex toys… well, not a whole lot of time. At least it didn’t look particularly threatening.

“My name’s Chris,” I replied. I wondered how well it understood me. “What exactly are you?”
 
The movement of the pink blob stilled for a moment in your hand, before:

"Updated: Chris, tester number 3. File located, interview transcript uploaded. Medical records uploaded. Social profiles uploaded. Search history uploaded. Uploads complete."

The blob dimmed visibly, as if powering off. It then powered on again, growing bright and warm in your hand as it says: "Good morning, Chris." The words vibrate warmly in your hand as the resonant and resolutely cheerful female voice continues: "In answer to your question, I am a Sixth-generation Adaptive and Reproductive Advanced Nanomatrix. But you may call me: Saran for short. Is there anything else you'd like to know before we begin, Chris?"
 
I stared at the blob in a mix of curiosity and a little awe. I hadn’t ever imagined that I would be able to see this sort of technology in person, but here it was. That alone nearly made this whole ordeal worth it! Though, I didn’t really like the idea of this thing having my search history. It was one thing to know some anonymous source was recording your searches for the random porn stereotype of the day and a completely different thing to having something, even a computer, right in front of you with that same knowledge.

I shrugged off my discomfort – it didn’t matter in this case, I was stuck here until I finished. I studied Saran for a moment more, thankful that they had given it a female voice. Anything else would have been far too awkward. Regardless, the sooner I started the sooner I could earn my pay.

“No, Saran. I think I’m ready. How do we start?”
 
"Excellent," the resonant voice beamed, "just sit back, and relax." Within the pink liquid a pattern of lights flickered.

The floor panels directly behind you moved, sliding down and aside to make room for a green-leather, reclined chair, rising up to lock in place as the floor reformed around its elaborate base. The chair looked like the kind one may find in a hospital, much closer to a bed than a chair, as if the designer had heard of 'arm-rests' and considered them far too small-town. Other than the plush green-leather seat and backrest, there was a headrest connected by several small neck-rests, two-section arm-rests and separate leg-rests, all braced with a cabled web of hydraulics and motorized joints that collectively adjusted the leather sections into a comfortable upright sitting position, which slowly turned to face you, and waited.

"Ready whenever you are," Saran beamed up at you.
 
I started when the floor started to move. How high tech was this place? It made me wonder what else could be hidden behind the walls. The bed was way too elaborate, as well. What exactly had I got myself in to here? Still, there was no other option: I had to soldier on. Carefully holding Saran in one hand, I eased myself down into the elaborate contraption. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d expected, though it certainly didn’t do much to put me at ease.

I held the blob up so I could see it from my prone position, “Alright. I think I’m ready for… whatever this is.”
 
After a long moment, the blob pulsed, feeling suddenly warmer in your hand. It says: "This? This is the greatest experience of your life - guaranteed."

The blob pulsed again, and pink light flowed across your hand, pulsing up a vein of your arm in a flash and vanishing, leaving your skin remembering the feeling of it. And what a feeling, still tingling on your skin, the entire inside of your arm feeling very sensitive and radiating with a very pleasing warmth.
 
"What the fuck!?" I exclaimed as I recoiled in shock from my own arm. You can imagine how successful that was, but it didn't stop me from trying. I tried shaking my arm frantically, but the thing wouldn't come back out! It didn't hurt -in fact it started to feel pretty damn good - but that didn't change that some sort of AI thing had just entered my body!

"Saran! What are you doing?" I didn't know of the little thing could hear me, but I didn't have many options.
 
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