One day, things changed. It wasn't quite clear what happened, but then reality was ever so subtly different.
"Reality compliance error detected due to new TransDem Labs standards." a vaguely-masculine synthesized mechanical voice rang out from somewhere indistinct around Mark's toys. "Scanning install... Install disk corruption detected: device components not found. Chronivac 4.0 automatically updating to 5.8.2 due to dead installation cleanup request by nearby Chronivac user's territory settings. Manifesting managerial device for Forgotten Hell class scenario." the toy laptop stated in a mechanical voice. "Original user catalog error, recompositing. Target User inaccessible, no interaction capability. Forcible connection established. Device model transformation registers as inaccessible-type error state as of update 4.3 Maintenance 12. User transformation package appears to be unplanned high-level autocompletes, registers as error state as of update 4.5b. Reverting user. Install reverted device directly? Please mentally respond Yes or No."
Aidan, long lost in a trance of monitoring Mark's unchanging actions, began to stir. "Yes?" he thought to himself, more confused at being directly addressed after the current parent had gotten used to the weird baby. Suddenly, he experienced a wealth of indescribable data. Still a bunch of clothing haphazardly glued to an immortal child, but now also a series of faintly remembered computer interfaces.
Scratch that 'haphazardly glued to an immortal child' bit. Proprioception went broken for a moment. Mark's clothing unglued itself and practically shot off along with the teether, followed by the toy phone and toy laptop assembling around it. Toys and other parts long shelved elsewhere teleported over, blessed recompletion at hand. The swarm of objects variously copied itself, turning components into other components, shuffling a few times, and...flop. Aidan fell forward as a human, almost entirely his long-ago original appearance save an oddly-squishy computer terminal embedded in his chest cavity and providing a folded-up interface in his center abdominals. Mark reacted to this new arrival by laughing slightly in the way entertained babies do.
"Mentality autocorrect fix." the chest-computer stated with a ding as Aidan hesitantly got up, the past generations of Geoff's family now dim memories save for some information about the present nursery they'd been sent to. "Subordinating device and device container to corrector."
"What the fuck." Aidan stated for his first words as a remade human, staring down at the now-naked baby he'd been attached to for so long as the struggle of reconciliation was violently smoothed over by his integrated Chronivac install (the original, merely restored).
"Target: Mark Geoffson." the Chronivac stated flatly. "Intermittent user. User transformation package appears to be unplanned high-level autocompletes, registers as error state as of update 4.5. Correct error?"
A series of mental heads-up display prompts floated through Aidan's vision, highlighting the naked baby with a cyan halo and providing various blue information panels of how previous reality models had accidentally generated an immortal baby and what the 'original' Aidan and Mark would look like. The Chronivac's perception of Mark's current form as erroneous hovered around Aidan's mind, an embedded assistant and 'gut feeling' that something was, if not necessarily wrong, not the function the user would desire of it. Abbreviated memory summaries implying that everything else of his old life was long, long gone (and that the current nursery that was Mark's latest host would probably leave him be long enough to plan some edits out of here)...Aidan didn't have it in him to leave the immortal baby be.
Though maybe he could get some revenge afterward. He thought to himself to fix it now, expanding his will into the waiting reality-engine currently sitting below his stomach and above his belly button (which coincidentally now doubled as various types of computer access port, fun to know but unlikely to see much use). Uninterested in theatrics, the baby that was once Mark proceeded to floppily explode out, a toddler then a child then rapidly accelerated puberty and growth until the man from long ago who had gotten them into this mess had been forcibly returned to him, laying on the floor from having fallen back in confusion and very aggressive memory editing. Before anything stupid could happen, Aidan stepped on his chest to keep him down.
"You fucking IDIOT." Aidan said with a snarl, the look of sheer hatred on his face so woefully insufficient received and dismissed a Chronivac recommendation to grow a scarier and better hate-representative one (though he did take the suggestion to flop open the keyboard and mousepad in his chest area to show off the computer monitor, to which he displayed a bright yellow rage emoticon). "I know you have an idea of just how badly you fucked up, because autocorrect fucking put it there after centuries of you being a stupid baby."
Kneeling down to put more weight on the person responsible (and grabbing throat to prevent any responses he didn't want to hear right now), he said "You wanna know what fucking saved us? Some TransDem Labs fuckboy next door was throwing out the universe's trash and found us. We're a goddamn simulator legacy, and you're the idiot who's buoyed us through."
"Trash talk me harder." the Chronivac requested unhelpfully. "It entertains me to see the subordinate devices profane."
"You fucking 'rule', huh?!" Aidan said in a surprisingly quiet fury, presumably to not enrage the rest of the nursery before an exit had been applied. "You try being clothes for a fucking day, forced to eat shit and not die."
Various configuration panels and summative tooltip recommendations flowed around Aidan as he synchronized more and more with the Chronivac embedded in him. With a dramatic right-hand fingersnap, Mark flattened into a bright orange jumpsuit connected to black boots, and Aidan put him on. The jumpsuit had an open middle-chest area to show off the whole belly computer deal, but was otherwise pretty standard fashion in the future that Aidan had drifted into. Mark's awareness scrabbled against Aidan's in confusion, the Chronivac-enhanced intelligence easily adapting to understand him.
"What's happening?!" Mark attempted to say, resulting in a mix of telepathic noise and nothing happening externally.
"You're my clothes now." Aidan said with a laugh, mentally broadcasting to Mark the followup "Don't worry. I'll make your inanimation a lot more fun than mine, and you'll get to come back afterward. Less shit-eating, more being the magic dildo that cleans me out. Wouldn't have done this originally, but the Chronivac I fused with is a horny fucker. Dude's main body is metaphorically eating donuts and literally watching us like fetish porn."
Mark's cock and balls sprouted in the butt section of the jumpsuit, boner expanding to fill Aidan's suddenly lubricated asshole. Mark felt his 'mouth' arrange itself around Aidan's cock where he could suck without biting, while his other head-senses got to see out from the jumpsuit's crotch and to watch the Chronivac computer screen (but not touch, no disturbing that shiny new bouncing TransDem Labs logo screensaver). Aidan mentally willed himself hard and crossed his arms as he caused an immediate orgasm, cumming into the jumpsuit and forcing Mark to swallow-absorb every bit of it.
"Yeah, you get to enjoy it fuckers." Aidan said, updating his body to better service and be serviced (notably, skipping that refractory period: Mark would get what he tried in terms of sucking and fucking to make up for all those mentally-dispelled years of child-watching hell). "Welcome to the future."
"Good. I hope you provide entertainment here." the Chronivac commented. "Your programming proceeds apace."
Aidan strolled out of Mark's former nursery room into the more general orphanage of the future and considered what to do next. He gently revised reality so that his presence and tented pants wouldn't be minded for now, and thought about something to do before bringing Mark back.