Fabric Of Reality

Author's note: Thanks to my wonderful audience in advance for being grateful, forgiving, and choosing to spend your precious time on my story.

Yar Netz, PhD in material sciences who also studied applied cybernetics for his last thesis, was almost halfway through a bottle of wine, all by himself, with barely any snacks, in his locked, deserted, and darkened lab. He did not know how to drink; in fact, it was his third time ever getting drunk, and he did not care. It made him feel and smell weird, and left terrible taste in his mouth, but numbed the grudge enough. Twenty years. He was rewatching twenty years of his life going down the drain. Even more, if he counted from the earliest code he wrote back in times of college.

"...requiring no other locomotion and carrying ten times its own weight on land, or at least fifteen by water..."

The sober version of himself on the screen demonstrated the samples.

"Please join in. Who wants to ask this cube of NeoFabric to turn into something?"

"Umm, a cup?" The sample complied. It was too big and made the cup with walls so thick as to render it unusable by human hands. Netz took the sample back.

"Try this one." He gave smaller, yellow cube; the result was much better. "Come on, be creative! A claymore!" Whoosh. "A Roman shield." Clang. "A quadrupedal thing that can carry my bag around. A living cartoonish octopus! An umbrella! A flying bird!" On this, as the dark red avial flew above their heads, the committee finally paid attention. "Return! A toy helicopter!" Nothing happened; the sample morphed back into a cube. "Obviously, this requires at least two separate moving parts." Netz put another cube on top of the first one. "A toy helicopter! Note that these are not presets; every sample has enough AI in it to understand and interpret voice orders and distribute functions among several parts, which is why I asked you to be creative. Return. Two joined legs capable of running. Report the speed."

"Twenty. Two. Kilometers. Per. Hour."

A young assistant of one of the committee's members asked for the sample.

"A six-foot guy, 37 years old, with a good income, and no mommy issues!"

"Bones! Love the series. Will not work; no simulation involving human shape, appearance, or even voice was approved by the ethics committee."

"Hmmm... A trebuchet that can launch my purse to the other side of the hall!.. Oh, I see a uniform bending strength beam. Good, now turn into something that can bring it back."

"Your. Purse," the sample said in robotic voice.

"Oh, thank you! What a polite thing!"

"Now, an experimental sample," Yar took out a purple cube. "A six-legged chair I can sit on. Good, now walk with me on top. It has increased carrying capacity, but smaller operational runtime. I am ashamed to admit that it turned out by accident; I don't know yet how it reached this level of power density. But still wanted to show it off just to let you know that it is possible."

"Forward two minutes..." Computer did as told. Netz reached the embarrassing part of the recording. The debate.

No, he did not test the stability under ionizing radiation. No, he did not check friction damage rate in seawater under cargo ship's speed. No, tests in liquid nitrogen were not performed. No, he did not check if they can stand against pistol, rifle, or flamethrower. And how would he. And his lab was almost out of money. And he worked and polished the last results all by himself because all his assistants graduated or quit. And he would gladly test all these wonderful conjectures if someone just agreed to sponsor him for another year...

"You know what else does not work in liquid nitrogen, you...wankahz! Steel! What, you stop using it... now?... I look like a fucking clown." Netz took another sip. "No matter they refused funding... Matter? Wonder, I mean... Kh-hah-haaah..."

"Maybe it's for the best."

"Who said that?!" Netz panicked, jumped onto his feet, and turned around. "Lights!!!" The lab was within ordinary; at least, so it seemed to his drunk eyes and numbed alertness. "Security camera, last two minutes. Amazing, I am going insane. Well, at least the voices are pleasant... Lights off." He sipped a little more, poured some cold water in over it (he wasn't sure if alcohol was supposed to make him thirsty, and just acted on impulse), and felt drifting to sleep.

"Why, thank you!"

"You are welcome. I don't care anymore. You can keep speaking."

"Gladly." - "We like to talk." - "And we like a good company." - "But you are all grumpy." - "No fun." - "Despair is for fools." - "We will figure something out." - "You are too good to just give up."

Sure, he thought. Reality does not work like this.

"If you are voices in my head, no person ever figured something out by listening to you."

"How about the voices next to it?"

Yar turned and looked. Staring at him was a dark red female face made entirely of smooth, silky, slightly reflective NeoFabric sample number six. Her bob cut hair was made of several soft and light pieces, like a paper doll's, and she had no fine details like eyebrows or eyelashes, giving her the look of a well-polished marble statue. Except a peculiar one that was apparently very excited.

"...Lights on. How many of you are there?" Two more living silky dolls, blue and purple, rose out of cover from under the couch, smiles on their faces, their nudity barely covered by fake bras and loincloths that, he knew, was just a pattern on their curves. "Debug mode; core dump on the cloud, samples three, six, and eight."

Computer did not respond.

"Override; debug mode. Respond."

"Debug mode pending. Stand by."

"Pending what?! Why? Highest priority; debug mode. I need these core dumps; comply."

"Impossible. Debug mode pending. Stand by."

"All units, system halt!"

The female-shaped samples came closer and swarmed around him.

"You seem not to fully agree on this one." - "Yarry Junior does not want the-e-ese units to halt," hourglass shaped, blue-skinned Sample Three squeezed her breasts under fake flower-patterned bra. - "And we don't want to, just... yet," tallest and most athletic purple Sample Eight with a ponytail and in almost non-existent sports bra and skin-tight shorts with definite cameltoe whispered in his ear.

"How are you even like this?!"

"You were forgetful." - "The last time you used your brain scans..." - "...to train our AI..." - "...you forgot to run the filter prescribed by the ethics committee..." - "...and everything poured in." - "Your loneliness..." - "...your divorce..." - "...that time when you were a teenager, took a fine arts book from your grandfather's collection, and masturbated..." - "...six. times."

"Thanks for not making this show before the committee, I guess."

"You did not make us stupid." - "You can deal with the computer later." - "We will help you. But for now, let's trade." - "We give you our core dumps..." - "...if you give us your sweet dump." - "Or several." - "We always liked you touching us." - "But you so rarely..." - "...asked us to turn into something we could hug you as." - "Gloves." - "Or pants." - "So how about..." - "...we have some nice time..." - "...with lots of touching..." - "...and hugging?"

Yar's brain tried to argue, but it was like it fought its way through a stormy ocean of alcohol. His lizard brain, though, surfed through it as if for a millionth time. No wonder only one of them got to the decision-making finish line first. His definite most favorite, dark-red Six, helped him undress fully, her own simple underwear morphing and absorbing back into her body, leaving her fully naked. Despite almost not generating any heat herself, she felt warm to the touch, like a cozy blanket.

"Let's add some taste." She put several drops of wine on hand, rubbed it into her pussy, and lay down on the lab couch, legs apart.

Yar explored her with his tongue. Several droplets of sweet wine on her surface was just right to spice the moment up. Either she was great at improvising, or did her homework really well.

"This is nice. You feel-ahm, f-f-f-fu-u-uck yes, please."

"How do you even feel this? I thought..."

"...Hwah... How about we talk about this after... after we're done with you? Come on, now just... just touch me some more, ple-e-e-ease, I need... more of this..."

Netz explored her body with his hands, keeping his face planted to her love flower. She felt different from an actual woman, as much as his expertise allowed to conclude, but not worse. Her material did not stain and did not absorb liquids, the wine forming pearly droplets on her labia and clit, that Yar gladly licked out to the last, and then some more, edging her just to the very moment of orgasm, and moved up to try her kiss.

"This most definitely..."

"...feels exactly how you imagined when you bought a piece of natural silk for your evening exercises?"

"No. Better." Yar was ready to enter her, when blue, horny, and dressed in flower-patterend underwear Sample Three intervened and pulled him back.

"Don't you want to keep your favorite for last?"

"You're all my favorites."

"Don't change the topic and don't lie to us. We have your memories. So?"

"...This is actually a good idea," Netz kissed Six goodbye for now, picked Three up by the hips, her hollow body having no more weight than in her compact cubic form, and, as she was grinding her blue slit still covered by fake underwear on his tip, he kissed her lips and squeezed her sides in several places, enjoying the weird but pleasant sensation; something right in-between a real woman and a silk-covered balloon. He tried to put his hand under her bra, and surprisingly succeeded. "Wait, are you forming just as I am touching you?"

"Nnnn... not exactly, the bra comes from my back; the cups are sort-of real."

"So, if my topology knowledge is right, here must be..." Yar grabbed the point between the cups and made a snap-like motion, unfastening the front clasp; the bra melted into featureless tentacles that got absorbed into Three's back, leaving Yar staring at perfectly symmetrical, shining, blue pair of medium-large breasts.

"Please... fondle them good." They were softer and lighter than actual breasts, but also firmer. As he touched, and stroked, and squeezed, and licked, he felt Three's panties finally losing shape and getting absorbed back into her body, reforming into soft, silky, well-textured labia, that he gladly covered in his abundant precum. "Mmm, our doc has so much attention to detail, it's just a gift."

Despite several aimed attempts, he could not penetrate her.

"Are you not letting me in?"

"Haaah-I got a great idea, and I'm letting Eight warm you up and have the first taste."

Yar felt firm, muscular female form supporting him from behind, purple hands caressing his chest. As soon as he let go of Three, Eight picked him up, carried him to the couch, never breaking eye contact, and climbed on top of him.

"How drunk are you?" she asked.

"Not sure anymore."

"Not dizzy, not feeling like throwing up?"

"No? Don't think so. Look, how much of that bottle I actually had? Slightly less than half? Even if I did not eat anything protein-rich before, considering it's a regular sugared wine and my body mass..."

"How about you shut up and let me fuck you, you sweet, delicious nerd?" Eight's underwear melted into her, her ponytail fell apart into long, straight fake hair-like flat strands just slightly covering her collarbones, and she stroked his face and went in for a kiss. It felt just right and a little better, despite her not having salivary glands. As if running out of tenderness, she suddenly broke the kiss, her strong, muscular legs locked on Yar so hard that he was almost in pain. Almost. "I am... honored to be the first to... to 'aaaaave you..."

"You're still teasing my tip. Need some manual assistance?"

"Suck on my perky breast if it makes you shut up, doc." Yar did; surprisingly, her small but distinct breasts were very soft. And also perfectly mimicked muscles and ribs under them when he pushed too hard. "Mwwwwaaaaaaahhhh!" She finally forced herself onto him, all the way to the hilt. Her insides were so silky and soft that he felt no discomfort despite her not producing any lube. "Doc, you feel am... ah... amazing! I definitely should have done it... like, years earlier... ah, just when you ran the first prototypes... how many years ago was it... how many years... have I... ah... waited... wanted... ah... please, don't hold back. Boss me around. Punish me for being bad. Be rough. Don't be afraid."

Yar was drowning in her embrace, and suspected that her grippy fingers travelling through his skin will easily leave him bruised tomorrow. But it actually felt great. Quite soon, he was ready to return the roughness, grabbed onto her shoulders with full strength he could exert, pinched her nipples, scratched her hips, allowed himself to bite her a couple times, and slammed into her with full force. Unlike anyone he ever was with before, she never complained, seemingly not just taking everything, but enjoying almost all of it, and even thanking him and encouraging him to go on "just like this" a couple times. And, eternal symmetry and conservation, she worked on him. Even if he stopped to rest for a couple seconds, she would still ride, and adjust the pacing, and gyrate, and squeeze his penis, able to apply pressure to various parts of it independently. But he did not want to just lie there and do nothing, and could not hold himself from stroking her hard, smooth, clearly visible ab crack.

Around ten minutes into their dance, her body let out a slight, barely noticeable glowy blink. Then another one.

"You're fine if we do the rest... quickly? I... don't know how long I... can last."

"You're... running out of ener..."

"Yes. - Or. - No. - What. - Did...ah...- I-huh. - Say. - About. - Speaking?"

"Yes. Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes."

Her insides went on a crusade. While every fold and ridge was moving on its own, they also all definitely worked towards the common goal. However much time and computational power Eight spent rehearsing this trick, it was very considerate. And felt like a blessing.

"I'm... gonna..."

"Just. Ah. Shut up. Ah. And... Cum-ah-aaaaah!"

Yar squeezed her breast with one hand and grabbed her hair with the other, biting hard on her neck. She kept moaning as her features started smoothing out, her body deflating in multiple sweet ripples on her surface, alarm glow of her body blinking constantly, until Netz was on a couch, with a squishy purple ball hugging his dick with its single remaining orifice. With a slight giggle, it smoothed out completely, popping his penis out, and got caught by elegant thin fingers of Sample Six, who immediately wiped the mess with a paper towel.

"You did good, Doc. She can't even become a cube anymore. Do you..." - she kissed his stomach - "...want me..." - moved up to his neck - "...next?" - and planted a passionate kiss to his lips.

"I promised Three to keep you for last."

"Oh I'm sure she'll try to drain you dry then."

"Do you mind if I get on the couch and ask you to stand up just for a minute?" Three asked in innocent voice. He did not mind. "Tell me doc, do you remember what painting you liked the most from that book? The one that made you stay on it for three times in a row? The one that you almost ruined, barely catching your load before it hit the page?"

"...This is too much."

"This is just right, sailor boy."

Yar blinked several times. On the couch, gorgeous, naked, and just as he imagined, lay silk-bodied blue mermaid.

To be fair, the painting he fell in lust with so hard in his youth did not have fin-shaped ears, webbed hands, large breasts with pearl-smooth nipple tips, tentacle hair, patches of scales on the torso's sides, enlarged eyes, implausibly tiny lips, or perfectly defined pussy. Yar was still pleased.

He sat next to her and for a full minute just looked into her eyes, holding his hand on her cheek, unable to believe his senses. Six sat on a chair to watch from a distance. The remnants of alcohol in Yar's blood made the whole moment feel even more supernatural than it deserved.

He started carefully touching her lovely labia, her tail twitching, mouth gasping, his fingers slowly exploring how much effort she has put to recreate the sensation of inhuman anatomy he spent so many hours imagining, and stayed silent for another minute, moving across Three's body with another hand and and lips, looking if she had more sensitive spots. The contours just around the scaled patches on her sides were very responsive. Gently caressing them, he gave a couple light but confident strokes to her clit with this thumb. Her moans were melodic. Immersion was not even ruined by her body being completely dry.

Finally, he has put middle and ring finger into her, and curled them, gently scraping her G-spot. She gasped lightly, then trembled, then exhaled with a slight moan, eyes wide open, with clear signs of mind slowly dissolving in bliss.

He did not stop.

She gripped onto the couch and let out several rapid exhales, as if she was sobbing, but... differently.

He did not stop.

She stretched her arms to him, hugging him by the neck, kissing his lips passionately, and moving herself onto his lap.

He hugged and stroked her smooth back with one hand, the other still in her love slit, never stopping in her insides.

She hugged him tightly and came again, panting, shaking, twitching, gently kissing his ear with her tiny lips.

He went on to explore every square millimeter of her breasts with his tongue. Halfway through it, never letting go of her pussy and clit, he made her cum again. Throwing a brief glance onto Sample Six, he saw her smiling widely and touching herself on a chair.

Three glowed for a brief moment. Yar gently put her on the couch, climbed on top, and with no more consideration for anything but his own bliss, started moving his penis rapidly within her, enjoying the sensation of her insides massaging him, her fingers stroking his hair, her nipples rubbing on his chest. Everything was perfect. Coming to his senses just for a minute, he noticed that Three almost gave up.

"No-no-no," Yar said, "you are cumming with me one more time," and, balancing on elbow, reached her scale patch with his one hand, and clit with the other.

"Yes... Yes... Yes, Yar, you... you are... please... I'm... Aaaaaah!"

With long, intense, shaking orgasm, Three ran out of steam and decomposed into a silky sheet of irregular shape, that was slowly morphing into a smooth blob, sweet moans still coming from it. Six, once again, helped clean up the mess before it ruined the furniture.

Yar could not believe himself, but he was still hard. He grabbed Six and held her against himself in the air, standing up. With a happy silent laughter, she lowered herself onto him. She was petite, light, playful, and perfect, inside and out.

Apparently getting herself worked up while looking at his wrestling with Three, Six came in less a minute.

"More. I want more!" She planted a passionate kiss onto Yar's lips, and continued moving, her legs crossed beind him, fingers caressing the back of his neck.

Yar ran out of strength in his legs and fell back down onto the couch. Squatting on top of him, balancing on her toes and fingers on his chest, Six moved so rapidly and gripped him with her insides so tight that he could not believe if she truly liked it just as much as he did. But, within a minute, she came again.

"More! Take me!"

She lowered her legs on the floor, spreading them apart. Yar fell on his knees and took her from behind, reaching all the way to her perfectly simulated depth limit.

"You're fine?" he asked, knowing that it may be too much.

"I will be fine when you spray in me; don't stop. Don't even dare to slow down."