The last thing I remember was the smell of stale Cheetos and the blue light of my monitor. I was reaching for my "Special Edition" mousepad—the one with the extra-thick wrist support, if you know what I mean—and then… darkness. I think I tripped over a pile of laundry and cracked my skull on the corner of my desk. What a way to go. A virgin until the bitter, dusty end.
But then I opened my eyes.
I wasn't in my cramped, windowless bedroom anymore. I was lying on a bed that felt like it was made of literal clouds. The room was huge, all white curves and glowing blue accents, like the inside of a spaceship designed by a guy who really loves minimalism.
I sat up, and my jaw hit the floor. My hands? Veiny. Tanned. Strong. I looked down. I wasn't wearing my stained "I Heart Anime" shirt. I was in some kind of silver silk robe that felt amazing against my skin. I hopped off the bed and practically glided to a floor-to-ceiling mirror.
"holy shit," I whispered. My voice was deep. Smooth. I looked like a freaking Greek god but with better hair. I had an eight-pack. I didn't even know humans could have eight-packs.
Suddenly, the door slid open with a soft hiss.
A woman walked in. No, calling her a woman is an insult. She was a masterpiece. She was wearing a dress so tight it looked like it was painted on, showcasing curves that made my brain short-circuit. Huge, round assets that defied gravity, a waist I could wrap my hands around, and hips that promised a very good time. Her skin had this faint, ethereal glow, and her eyes were a piercing, unnatural violet.
"Good morning, Citizen 7-Alpha," she said.
Her voice was like liquid honey. "I am your Residential Assistance Unit, Lyra. You seem… distressed. Is there something I can do to help you integrate?"
She tilted her head, her expression pure and innocent, like she didn't realize she was standing there looking like a walking wet dream.
My "pervert" instincts, honed by decades of high-speed internet, kicked into overdrive. Wait. She said "Assistance Unit." And this world… it felt too perfect. Too polite.
"I… uh… yeah," I stammered, trying to keep my eyes on her face (and failing). "I think I'm having a medical emergency. A very specific one."
Lyra stepped closer, her floral scent filling my lungs. "A medical emergency? My sensors indicate your vitals are within normal range, though your heart rate is accelerating rapidly. Please, tell me how I can help. It is my primary directive to ensure your well-being."
She looked genuinely concerned. Like, she would do anything to stop me from feeling bad. A slow, wicked grin spread across my new, handsome face.
"It's a… a Rare Solitude Syndrome," I lied, my voice trembling with fake desperation. "If I don't get immediate, intense physical contact from a beautiful female… my heart might actually stop. It's a human thing. Very high stakes. I'm basically dying right now, Lyra."
Lyra's violet eyes widened. "Dying? Oh no. We cannot allow that. I am programmed to provide any assistance necessary to preserve life."
She took another step, pressing her soft, warm body right against mine. I could feel the heat radiating off her. She looked up at me, her lips parted slightly.
"Tell me, Citizen," she whispered, her hands resting on my chest. "What must I do to save you?"
I looked down at her, my blood on fire. This world was definitely the best thing that ever happened to me.