Chapter 4

by Fractured Puppet

Tags: #D/s #dom:female #drones #f/f #pov:bottom #scifi #AI #dronification #latex #robots #sub:female #transformation #transgender_characters #wholesome

There’s a low humming sound that you realize is coming from the headset, followed by a sensation like a thousand tiny teeth lightly gripping your scalp as the band latches itself to your head.

A wave of panic rises in your chest, but before it can crash over you Ada’s voice banishes it with soothing, encouraging tones. 

“This is normal, and part of the process. You are safe here.”

You close your eyes and focus on her words as the pressure in your chest eases.

“You are doing very well. There may be some slight discomfort, but it will pass quickly.”

You feel the headphones shift more than you hear it, the cups fully encasing your ears before something thin and soft begins to tickle as it slides into your ear canals.
The sensation moves further inside of your head, until you feel a building pressure - like you’re trying to resist something attempting to push inside your brain - and then a popping sensation before your whole body goes numb.

“Integration successful,” Ada announces with satisfaction, her voice as clear inside of your mind as your own thoughts. 
“Please do not be alarmed. I will be in control while we complete your processing.”
“That makes sense,” you agree. You’re not actually sure if you said it aloud or just thought it. Does it really matter?

“We’ll begin by designing your new chassis. What functions give you pleasure?”

It takes a moment to understand you’re being asked what you like to do.

“I’m...I like to write, or to draw? Creative applications. I write code at my job but it’s more of a requirement.”

“What about physical activity?”

“I...liked football when I was a kid. Running. Climbing?”

“One moment while I bring up possible base units.”

The screen blanks and is replaced by several headless body types. Male, female, some a mix of both, others truly neutral.

“These units are designed for general physical activity requiring dexterity and agility.”

As you look at each one, it’s highlighted, while the others go dark.

“Please select your desired option. We wish you to be completely comfortable in your new self.”

You hesitate for the barest second before your eyes land on a chassis with graceful curves and runner’s thighs.

“You’ve selected chassis type F5. Please confirm this is your desired form.”

You laugh a little bit at the idea of refreshing yourself before you focus on the screen again.

“Yes. This is my desired form.”

There’s a soft chime, and another rush of pleasure.

“Chassis locked.”

The screen changes to show different styles of boots. No. Not boots. Legs.

A few more animalistic, some ending in faux heels, others with chunky, stompy feet.

“Please make your selection.”

There’s a set with flared housings that end in stable looking feet with a broad toe that still feels like it would be nimble.

As you focus on it, the screen splits. One side showing the options, the other showing the selected legs mated to the chassis.

You watch it walk, run, and jump before you try to nod, but your head won’t move.

Oh. Right. Ada has control. The thought makes you want to smile.

“This set, please.”

“Type L11? Excellent choice. The selection has been locked.”

The pleasure from that choice begins to build in you, a coil of heat slowly winding itself taut in your belly.

The screen blanks and is replaced by different options for hands.

“Based on your preferences and selections, here are the recommended options.”

It’s a surprisingly wide selection, but you find a pair that seem to be calling to you with their graceful, gently rounded fingers and soft, feminine shapes.

The split screen returns and you watch your new self flexing her fingers, making fists and splaying them back out.


You feel yourself getting increasingly aroused by her perfect form - your perfect form - and the warmth of Ada’s continued approval.

There’s no embarrassment or shame, for once. It simply is.

“All units are equipped for self defense,” Ada explains as the screen focuses on your hands again.

You watch your fingertips develop slashing talons, miniature punch daggers, nasty looking barbed stingers, cycling through options until a set of almost feline claws appears.

“Those,” you announce, almost breathless. “Those feel right.”


You try to hold back your urge to moan with need.

“You are doing very well,” she praises. “We are nearly ready for conversion.”

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