Paul’s text flickered on the massage chair’s display, eager and thoughtful:
“That was… wow. But I think I want something even wilder, Jeff. That robot cowboy body looks incredible—I want to have real mobility again and, honestly, to feel alive in a different way.”
Jeff, still basking in artificial afterglow, leaned across and tapped a few keys on the Chronivac, his metal lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Got any requests, partner?” he drawled, venting a puff of steam as he read Paul’s reply.
“Big, fit, maybe like… a skunk—something bold, but synthetic. Still want to play and, uh, maybe be useful around the house.”
Jeff’s blue eyes twinkled. “You got it. Let’s make ya the most memorable critter in the neighborhood.”
Quietly, he toggled a hidden setting—Object Hybridization. A few quick selections later, the new entry read:
Base: Anthropomorphic Skunk (Synthetic / Android)
Additional: Integrated Laser Printer Functions (multifunction: print, scan, double-sided, staple)
Body: Mobility—Full bipedal and tail, flexible synthetic fur, shiny black-and-white color, with glowing accents on ears and tail
Sensory Reward: Pleasure response tied to print/scanning/stapling actions (doublesided & stapling provide intense feedback)
Vocalization: Polished, playful, a hint of digital sass
Height: 6’2”
Features: Discreet “output slot” beneath tail, panel on chest for printer controls, LED stripes, broad muzzle, expressive ears, eyes with shifting color
He hit Save—the chair’s whirr faltered as Paul’s form began to re-congeal, synthetic leather crackling, black and white panels spreading and rippling as his form pulled up from the seat. In seconds, the black-glossy seat merged with matte, tactile synthetic fur, rising into lean, digitigrade legs. A plush, pillowy tail fanned out—brilliant white with pulsing LED lines—and an athletic, humanoid torso solidified, printer-tray panels etching subtly onto the chest.
The armrests flowed down into thick, five-fingered hands, nails capped in silvery acrylic. Paul’s chest puffed out, a glossy screen blinking alive at its center. His face formed last—broad muzzle, twinkling electric-blue eyes, rounded ears rimmed in light. A white stripe ran from brow to nose-tip, over his head and tail, all gleaming and synthetically soft.
Paul flexed his new, mighty legs, standing tall with powerful, animal grace. He took a deep, digitalized breath, tail arching behind him, then tested his vocal processor:
His voice rang clear, a rich, teasing baritone with a processed, cybernetic lilt:
“Ooooh, Jeff, you’ve outdone yourself. Never felt so flexible—or so ready to print!”
Glancing down at his chest, he pressed a furry black palm to the control panel—printer icons danced across the display.
“Guess I’m all-in-one now…” Paul laughed, his new tail swishing, “How about a test run?”
Jeff grinned. “Try printin’ somethin’, and tell me what it does for ya, stripe-boy.”
Paul pressed the Print button. A whir resonated deep in his hips, and a tingling pleasure blossomed low in his body. Papers—freshly marked—slid sensually from the “output slot” beneath his tail. Each sheet brought a new wave of pleasure, his black-and-white chest throbbing with digital heat.
He quivered, ears perking. “Ohhh—okay, that feels… good,” he gasped, another print job sending shivers across his synthetic skin, LEDs on his tail rippling in rainbow.
Pressure built as he hit Double-Sided Print. His processor sent pleasurable signals in a flood. Paul's knees wobbled, a low moan rumbling out. “Whoa, that’s—intense. Jeff, you’ve gotta try this setting!”
He pressed the Staple function. A sharp, sudden spike of synthetic euphoria raced through him, tail flaring as a small device buried beside his output slot whirred and fired.
“Unbelievable!” Paul panted, legs shaking, blue eyes half-lidded. “I might get addicted to paperwork at this rate!”
Jeff let out a digital whistle, admiring the scene: a lithe, synthetic skunk-man, every print job as good as a full-body caress, with pleasure mounting with every new task.
Mike, forced to attention on the desk, piped in with a catchphrase:
“Remember, soldier—keep your workspace organized and your head clear!”
Paul grinned, teeth gleaming, eyes glowing with a mischievous light. “Roger that, Captain. Now, whose files need scanning next?”