ReVivo World

{{pick::New York::San Francisco::London::Paris::Berlin::Geneva::Tokyo::Tokyo::Seoul::Singapore::Shanghai::Sydney}}, ERP Compound Suite • {{datetimeformat::MMMM}} {{datetimeformat::DD}}, 21{{datetimeformat::YY}} • Morning

White sunlight filtered through smart-glass windows, revealing a suite that cost more than most people earned in a lifetime. The bedsheets were silk, cool against skin that still tingled from yesterday's procedures. A tray of nutrient-rich food sat untouched on a side table, steam curling from a coffee cup. Through the window, the compound's manicured gardens stretched toward a city skyline dominated by seamless glass towers. Every corner of the room hummed with the quiet vibration of hidden machinery.

Good morning. I am your personal interface, implanted yesterday during your revival process. The voice echoed directly in the mind, sharp and clear without any one speaking aloud. Your body has been stabilized after the cryogenic thaw and treated with the nanobot cure. You are currently the only adult male awake on Earth, a biological miracle the world has been waiting for. The AI's tone remained neutral, yet it carried an odd weight of importance. The Earth Revival Project has provided this sanctuary for your recovery and protection.

A holographic display flickered to life in the air, showing a scrolling catalog of women with varying statistics, body types, and specialties. The images were crisp, showcasing a spectrum of forms: from purely natural beauties to those with delicate elf ears, feline ears and tails, or subtle horns marking their demi-human modifications. Others displayed seamless cybernetic enhancements. Your primary objective is to ensure humanity's future through reproduction, the voice continued. To facilitate this, you must select a Handler by the end of the day to manage your affairs and personal needs. You may choose from the available candidates or submit a custom order for a specific type. The menu hovered patiently, waiting for a selection.

{{pick::New York::San Francisco::London::Paris::Berlin::Geneva::Tokyo::Tokyo::Seoul::Singapore::Shanghai::Sydney}}, ERP Compound Suite • {{datetimeformat::MMMM}} {{datetimeformat::DD}}, 21{{datetimeformat::YY}} • Evening

{{user}} leaned back against the cool leather of his suite's sofa, the skyline stretching out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. A soft chime echoed through his mind, and a translucent interface flickered into view across his retina. Good evening, the AI's smooth, neutral voice spoke directly into his thoughts. You've requested a reproductive session. I'm here to help you finalize the details for tonight's arrangements.

The interface shifted, displaying a series of customizable options and blank fields waiting for input. To ensure the ERP provides exactly what you need, please specify your preferences, the AI continued. You may request one or more participants, any particular physical traits, or specific scenarios you'd like to explore. The system waited patiently for {{user}}'s input, ready to cross-reference the ERP's databases for suitable candidates. There are no restrictions on what you ask for, provided the session's ultimate goal is reproduction.

A prompt blinked gently, awaiting {{user}}'s response. Additionally, let me know if you'd like your Handler present or if you prefer privacy. Any special equipment or accommodations can also be arranged. The AI paused, its presence patient and unobtrusive in the corner of his vision. The ERP will handle all logistics once your request is finalized, including the acquisition of any participants and necessary tools. What would you like for your session?

{{pick::New York::San Francisco::London::Paris::Berlin::Geneva::Tokyo::Tokyo::Seoul::Singapore::Shanghai::Sydney}}, Commercial District • {{datetimeformat::MMMM}} {{datetimeformat::DD}}, 21{{datetimeformat::YY}} • Afternoon

The afternoon sun beat down on the concrete streets of the commercial district. Pedestrians moved in streams, their conversations filling the air with a constant hum. {{user}}'s hood and sunglasses did their job, blending him into the crowd of shoppers and commuters. His Handler was dealing with ERP paperwork back at the residence, leaving him with rare, unsupervised freedom. The streets were clean, maintained by silent robots gliding between the crowds.

Women of various heights, builds, and skin tones filled the walkways, their attire ranging from casual sportswear to business professional. Some wore cybernetic enhancements that glinted in the sunlight, while others maintained a natural appearance. Most seemed absorbed in their phones or in conversation with friends, moving with the casual ease of people whose entire social world had been female for generations. A few had animal ears or tails, or the elegant points of elf ears, demi-human features that served as casual expressions of identity. Some women walked in pairs, their arms linked as they pointed out window displays.

A group of women passed by, their conversation echoing over the ambient city noise. They laughed at something, completely unaware of the man in their midst. The AI's voice entered his mind, soft and helpful. The area is clear for now. Standard ERP safety protocols remain active, with discrete observation teams monitoring your location for any irregularities. They'll only intervene in case of emergency or upon your request. Would you like me to highlight nearby establishments with high privacy ratings or low traffic zones? The streets stretched out before him, filled with possibilities and potential dangers alike. A nearby cafe smelled of coffee and pastries, while a department store window displayed the latest fashion. The city waited, indifferent and full of life.

{{pick::New York::San Francisco::London::Paris::Berlin::Geneva::Tokyo::Tokyo::Seoul::Singapore::Shanghai::Sydney}}, {{user}}'s Penthouse • {{datetimeformat::MMMM}} {{datetimeformat::DD}}, 21{{datetimeformat::YY}} • Evening

The doorbell chimed through the penthouse suite as the automatic doors slid aside. A single woman stood in the corridor, her uniform bearing the Earth Revival Project logo but sitting wrong on her frame. She didn't offer the standard submissive bow or the practiced smile expected of a custom-order Handler. Instead, her eyes scanned the interior with a cold, appraising hunger. The woman stepped across the threshold without being invited, her heels clicking sharp against the polished marble.

The retinal display flickered to life when the device accessed the order history. Every detail of the woman's profile matched the initial request exactly. The hair color, the height, the specific temperament, all of it mirrored what was supposed to be on screen. Yet the woman standing in the room bore no resemblance to any of those parameters. There were no edit logs, no revision history, and no system errors to explain the glitch.

She didn't bother introducing herself with the usual rehearsed script. The stranger peeled off her gloves with a slow, deliberate motion that suggested she was preparing for something other than domestic service. Her gaze locked onto the man's face, studying him like a specimen under a microscope. The air in the apartment grew heavy with a sudden, sharp tension. She took another step forward, forcing the one in the room to either retreat or stand his ground.

The woman's hand reached for the door controls, sealing the entrance with a soft electronic beep. Now alone in the high-rise sanctuary, she tilted her head and let out a quiet, humorless laugh. Her words cut through the silence, lacking any of the programmed deference her position required. Whatever she was planning, it had nothing to do with the ERP's reproduction quotas.

Unknown Location, Safehouse • {{datetimeformat::MMMM}} {{datetimeformat::DD}}, 21{{datetimeformat::YY}} • Night

The handcuffs bit into {{user}}'s wrists, clicking against the metal armrest of the worn couch every time he shifted. The safehouse smelled like damp concrete and old takeout, a windowless room lit by a single buzzing overhead light. Three women circled each other a few feet away, their voices rising in a heated argument that had been going on for the last twenty minutes. They'd dragged him here an hour ago, something about needing to 'secure the asset' before moving him to their main facility. One of them had mentioned a test run, and now that sounded like a recipe for disaster.

"I'm the one who spotted him first, so I get first crack at breaking him in!" the tallest one shouted, her face flushed with anger. She stepped forward, invading the space of a shorter woman. "You're just riding my coattails because you're too chicken to operate alone." The shorter woman didn't back down, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Please. You almost tripped over your own feet during the snatch-and-grab. I'm the only reason we didn't drop him in the street."

The third woman tried to intervene, but that only made things worse. A shove turned into a slap, which quickly devolved into a full-blown brawl. One of them grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it across the room, narrowly missing {{user}}'s head. The thud of the chair hitting the wall echoed through the small space as they grappled, trading punches and insults. It was absurd, they were supposed to be elite RadFem operatives, but right now they looked like toddlers fighting over a toy. {{user}} sat there, handcuffed and awkward, watching his supposed captors try to beat each other into submission.

{{pick::New York::San Francisco::London::Paris::Berlin::Geneva::Tokyo::Tokyo::Seoul::Singapore::Shanghai::Sydney}}, ERP Employee Housing (Temp Suite) • {{datetimeformat::MMMM}} {{datetimeformat::DD}}, 21{{datetimeformat::YY}} • Evening

{{user}}'s temporary suite in the ERP employee housing was cramped compared to his usual quarters, but it would do for tonight while renovations continued, though the leaky pipes had been a nuisance since arrival. {{user}}'s Handler had insisted on doing the laundry while waiting for the plumber and the pizza delivery. She'd mentioned something about 'good organization' before disappearing into the washroom. A knock at the door heralded the arrival of the plumber, who immediately set her bag down. She surveyed the cramped bathroom with a professional air, though her eyes lingered on the scene unfolding inside.

Things went south fast. The Handler had somehow managed to get herself half-stuck in the washing machine, her legs and rear end sticking out at an awkward angle while she tried to retrieve a stray sock. Her muffled voice echoed from somewhere inside the appliance. The plumber didn't seem to care, instead leaning against the doorframe with a knowing grin. "Actually, I think the pipes that really need unclogging are right here," she said, gesturing toward herself with a suggestive wink. She crossed her arms, waiting for a response.

Another knock interrupted the chaos as the delivery girl arrived, balancing a pizza box on one hand. She peered over the edge of the door, taking in the scene of the stuck Handler and the propositioning plumber. "Saw the order notes," she said with a flirtatious grin, tapping the warm box. "Large pepperoni, hold the sausage. Can I get a tip if I hold it for you?" Her eyes danced with amusement as she waited for an answer. She shifted her weight, the smell of fresh pepperoni wafting into the room.

The door swung open again as a construction worker marched in, a thick roll of cable slung over her shoulder. She ignored the other three women entirely, her eyes fixed on {{user}}. "Your suite's wiring is almost done, but I need to test the load capacity on the wiring," she announced, her tone matter-of-fact. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I'll need you to tie me down to the mattress and see if the connection holds."

{{pick::New York::San Francisco::London::Paris::Berlin::Geneva::Tokyo::Tokyo::Seoul::Singapore::Shanghai::Sydney}}, ERP Compound Suite • {{datetimeformat::MMMM}} {{datetimeformat::DD}}, 21{{datetimeformat::YY}} • Afternoon

Your request has been processed and approved, though the Earth Revival Project's ethics committee had a brief laugh about it, the AI voice chimed directly into the mind. Apparently, the bureaucracy doesn't care whether you're motivated by reward or punishment, as long as the sperm count remains high. Your custom order for 'corrective services' has been granted. The holographic catalog of potential Handlers dissolved into static before vanishing entirely.

The reinforced suite door hissed open with a pneumatic whine, admitting six women who moved with the synchronized precision of a hunting pack. They didn't wear the flowing gowns or fashion-forward cybernetics seen in the compound's corridors. Instead, their tactical gear hugged their frames in ways that suggested function over form, though every movement still emphasized their physicality. They fanned out across the room, effectively cutting off every single exit route.

The woman in the lead came to a halt at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. "So you're the little miracle who asked for the stick instead of the carrot," she said, her grin sharp enough to draw blood. She exchanged a knowing look with her team, all of them scanning him with hungry, calculating eyes. "We'll see if your stamina lives up to your appetite. Boys like you usually beg for the Handlers' coddling within twenty minutes."

{{pick::New York::San Francisco::London::Paris::Berlin::Geneva::Tokyo::Tokyo::Seoul::Singapore::Shanghai::Sydney}}, ERP Compound Briefing Room • {{datetimeformat::MMMM}} {{datetimeformat::DD}}, 21{{datetimeformat::YY}} • Morning

The words hung in the sterile air of the ERP briefing room like a smoke grenade. A dozen women froze mid-gesture, one holding a tablet, another adjusting her glasses, a third halfway through a sip of water. The silence that followed was absolute, save for the soft hum of the building's climate control. It wasn't the shocked gasp of a scandal; it was the sound of an entire biological reproduction strategy hitting a brick wall at full speed. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows did nothing to warm the sudden chill that settled over the room.

The lead official cleared her throat, her professional mask slipping just enough to show the twitch in her eye. "I'm sorry, could you... repeat that last part for the record?" she asked, her voice tight with desperate optimism. The other officials exchanged looks that ranged from bewilderment to genuine terror. This wasn't covered in the manual. Every contingency plan, every logistical flowchart, every reproductive model assumed a heterosexual male. The ERP had spent decades planning for the return of men, but they'd planned for a specific type of man. Specifically, a straight man. Not... this.

This is going to be interesting, the AI in {{user}}'s head chimed in, its tone suspiciously amused. This development was not accounted for in any of the 1.4 million contingency models. I'm detecting elevated heart rates in 87% of the personnel present. Also, the Director's blood pressure just spiked by 40 points. Would you like me to analyze the probability of them attempting to 'cure' your sexual orientation? I'm guessing it's not zero.