Wrong button - part 1 (Patreon)

Part 2: https://www.patreon.com/posts/wrong-button-2-115949993

...

The cold bathroom tiles, while still felt, seemed entirely different. It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never awakened in a body, even one officially labeled as “fully human-adaptive.” My brain was processing these electronic sensory signals as sensations, but something was... off. The sensations were too sharp, too controlled, as if I could mentally adjust the coolness or roughness of the surface.

Turning to the mirror, I saw my new body in the reflection—or rather, its back. Unnaturally smooth skin, almost artificial. Thin lines ran along my spine—looking like tattoos, but on closer inspection, I realized they were something else. Symbols and lines glowed, and what stood out the most were two small buttons I didn’t remember being there yesterday. They blinked blue and white, as if waiting for a command.

“What the hell?” I whispered to myself, touching them. No pain, no familiar feeling of pressing skin, just a faint response, like touching a smartphone screen.

I took a picture of myself, angling the phone to capture the strange glow, and quickly sent the image to Frank—my personal assistant. He was the first person I thought of and the only one who knew about this whole crazy situation.

“Frank, what the fuck is on my back?!” I typed the message, my heartbeat accelerating. Though, again, it wasn’t a heartbeat in the usual sense. There was no heart here. Just artificial pulses, tuned to match my expectations.

As soon as I sent the message, the glowing lines on my back suddenly flared. For a split second, the room became so bright I blinked in surprise. But immediately after, I felt something shift inside my body, as if an invisible hand had flipped an internal switch.

“Fuck…” I muttered, realizing I wasn’t in control of it. Almost instantly, my body began moving on its own. Muscles tensed, and I arched my back in a way I’d never done before. A strange voice echoed in my head—not mine, but from somewhere inside, as if part of the system had been uploaded for a test:

"Initiating sexual function test... activated. Please remain still."

“What? No! Cancel!” I screamed, but the words didn’t come out. My lips were mute, and my consciousness felt like a prisoner in its own body. My hands began to move, caressing my sides, my stomach, and then my fingers started to drift lower. The skin was almost painfully sensitive, as if every point on my body responded to the lightest touch. I felt it so intensely that it took my breath away. But it wasn’t me controlling this breath. It was deep, measured, almost as if following a script. My fingers slid over the curves of my body, gripping my hips, lingering on my stomach. It was so strange—to feel everything and yet feel nothing. I tried to resist, but my body kept moving, following some preprogrammed scenario.

I heard my phone vibrate and caught a glimpse of a message from Frank:

“Don’t touch them!”

But the warning came too late. I didn’t even immediately understand the meaning of the message, as my brain, now inside this body, was consumed by the stimulation of zones responsible for arousal. However, I still understood that this was all wrong. Damn, my hand was already tightly gripping one of my breasts, soft and so sensitive!

"Initiating orgasmic response test," — the cold, mechanical voice in my head pronounced it emotionlessly, as if this was just a standard diagnostic process.

I watched as my hands began moving on their own. My fingers kept gently squeezing my breast, and every cell responded to the touch with incredible sensitivity. My other hand, following some unknown algorithm, smoothly moved lower, and my fingers softly brushed over my clitoris, sending powerful waves of pleasure through my body. I felt them begin to move, massaging, amplifying each touch. The fingers slipped deeper, and I could feel them inside me. The sensations were both painfully intense and paradoxically detached, as if my consciousness was observing it from the outside, unable to intervene. Each new thrust echoed through my brain with electric impulses, deepening the connection between my body and consciousness.

"Stop..." I kept repeating in my mind, but the voice in my head continued relentlessly.

"Initiating orgasmic test, level 2. Adjusting neural centers..."—the mechanical voice echoed in my consciousness as if it were talking about some factory equipment being tested. My breathing quickened, my chest rising and falling to the rhythm of foreign commands, and my fingers pressed even deeper.

It’s hard to explain, but I felt as if my brain... was being rewired? But that’s impossible, right? My body was tensing more and more, arching in strange, unfamiliar ways. I felt wave after wave crashing over me, speeding up the rhythm of the movements. "Stop... stop," I kept praying, but nothing could interrupt this. The same cold voice resonated inside my mind:

"Neural center adjustment... transitioning to female body compatibility complete. Initiating orgasmic conclusion — level 3." — The voice now sounded less cold and almost seductive, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. My body convulsed with another wave, and I suddenly realized I no longer wanted to stop it. Everything that was happening no longer felt foreign but rather was responding to my deepest desires. Every touch, every wave of pleasure awakened something new inside me. I suddenly realized that I liked this. The realization didn’t make me feel scared—it was intoxicating. My mind, which had resisted moments ago, was now merging with this body in a single flow.

With each new wave of pleasure crashing through my body, I began to lose the sense of alienation from what was happening. It no longer felt strange or unnatural—instead, I started feeling like this was how it was supposed to be. The heat spreading through my veins wasn’t frightening anymore; it was desirable, even necessary. My fingers, now naturally sliding over the wet skin, suddenly felt less foreign to me. No, they were my fingers, and I was in control of them, though the system probably still managed the process. My body craved more.

"More," I whispered, not even realizing it, and the word slipped out of my chest as if I had wanted to say it from the very beginning but was too afraid to admit it. My voice sounded different—softer, higher, filled with some strange yearning, as if I had already gotten used to this new reality.

Suddenly, I remembered Frank. What did he write? He wants to come over? God, he’s always so cold, detached, but attentive… I suddenly imagined him walking into the room right now. How would he look at me? At this body, fully ready for his touch. The thought of his cold gaze, which once irritated me, now sent a sharp wave of arousal through me. How he would raise his eyebrow, looking at my curves, at how I was writhing before him. Damn, I liked that thought! I wanted him to see me like this.

"Frank..." — my voice trembled, as if called forth by this very thought. He wouldn’t just stand aside, no… I was sure even the most restrained person couldn’t resist this sight. I would make him forget everything. He would touch me... oh yes!

Another thought pierced through me, so unexpected but incredibly arousing. What if it wasn’t just Frank here? I closed my eyes, letting myself fantasize. I imagined my friends—those very men with whom I made business plans, the ones who helped me earn my millions. We would go to bars together, laugh at dumb jokes, talk about sports and women. But now... what if they saw me? Saw me like this? Irresistible, full of desire, ready to give them what they didn’t even realize they wanted.

Bill… his rough, confident grip. He wouldn’t bother with pleasantries. He’d just take what he wanted. I could feel his large hands gripping my hips, his fingers digging greedily into the skin, as if afraid to lose control. And I would only smile and ask for more.

Michael… always the quieter one, reserved, but I knew it was just a mask. There was something wild hidden inside him, and I could awaken it. I imagined his hands nervously reaching for me, shy at first, but then growing bolder with each touch. I would make him forget all his doubts.

With each new image, with every new fantasy, my body responded more intensely. My fingers squeezed tighter, my movements became sharper, and the waves of pleasure hit so hard that I could barely stifle a moan. My consciousness no longer resisted—it was drowning in this overwhelming desire.

"Yes..." — I whispered, almost without realizing it. My hand continued moving lower, my fingers already deep inside, and each new wave of pleasure pulled me further from who I used to be. I could no longer go back. I didn’t want to go back.

With this thought, I picked up the phone. There were tons of messages from Frank that I hadn’t even read. I just replied:

"Frank, you think too much. Let it go. I’m waiting."