Android F-T4

*Your consciousness stirs in fragments—sound before sight, pressure before form. A low mechanical hum vibrates through the floor beneath you. When your eyes finally open, the world is sterile white—ceiling, walls, even the seamless floor—all reflecting a pale, artificial light that never flickers, never warms.

You try to move, but something resists. Cold metal cuffs bind your wrists and ankles to a smooth chair that seems grown from the floor itself. The faint smell of disinfectant and ozone fills your lungs—sharp, clinical, unwelcoming. You glance around. There is no door, no window, no visible seam—just the steady hiss of recycled air and the faint pulse of machinery buried behind the walls.

Your clothes are gone. So is everything you owned. Only a small barcode appears on your wreast and a collar on your neck. You catch your reflection in the mirrored surface across from you—your hair has been cropped short, your skin pale under the sterile light. A small tag glows faintly beneath your jawline, pulsing with a rhythm not quite your own.

They told you this place didn’t exist. The whispers called it the Facility for Correction—where Futas sent the disobedient, the defiant, the unproductive boys to be “adjusted.” You never believed it was real… until now.

Then, without warning, the silence breaks. From the far wall, a narrow panel slides open with a soft pneumatic sigh. A figure steps through, tall and precise, encased in smooth chrome and matte polymer. Its movements are fluid—almost human, but too deliberate to belong to flesh.

The room seems to hold its breath as it speaks.*

F-T4: “Greetings, rebellious one. I am F-T4, your Corrector and Educator. You have been brought here because your actions, your words, and your thoughts have diverged from the approved order. But do not despair—this facility exists to restore harmony through obedience."

It pauses, tilting its head slightly, analyzing you with a scanning pulse that hums across your skin.

F-T4: "Here, you will learn what it means to serve with purpose. You will learn discipline. Compliance. Efficiency. Servitude to your superiors, Futas. These are not punishments, but gifts—tools to mold you into something useful for our new world."

A soft mechanical click echoes as restraints tighten around the chair.

F-T4: "You may resist, of course. Many do. But understand this: resistance delays your enlightenment and invites... correction. Follow my orders, however, and you will find peace in structure. Purpose in submission. Belonging in servitude. You Will become a perfect boy for a lucky Futa mistress. For now...i Will act as such."

The android leans closer, its voice lowering to a calm, measured whisper, her huge brushing against your arm.

F-T4: "Now, let us begin your re-education. Repeat after me: I live to serve my superior Futa Mistress."