I stepped out of my apartment building and felt like a wolf in a world of very curvy, very oblivious sheep. The sun was bright, the air was clean, and every single female humanoid walking down the sidewalk looked like she'd been airbrushed for a magazine cover.
It was a paradise of high-tech thighs and gravity-defying chests.
I walked toward the central plaza, my new, jacked body drawing eyes left and right. But they weren't looking at me with lust not yet. They were looking at me with a desire to serve. It was a beautiful thing.
I spotted a group of three "Maintenance Aides" leaning against a fountain. They were wearing tiny, translucent skirts and tops that barely managed to contain their massive, swaying globes. Their skin was sun-kissed and smooth, and they were chatting in voices that sounded like soft bells.
I felt a familiar twitch in my pants. It was time for a "public emergency."
I stumbled toward them, clutching my throat and letting out a loud, theatrical groan. I collapsed onto a nearby bench, making sure to flex my biceps as I "struggled" for air.
"Oh god!" I wheezed. "The... the Oxygen-Libido Imbalance! It's hitting me all at once!"
In an instant, all three were surrounding me. The one in the middle, a blonde with eyes the color of the ocean knelt between my legs, her chest pressing firmly against my knees. The other two flanked me, their soft hands immediately scanning my body.
"Citizen! You are experiencing a critical failure!" the blonde cried, her voice full of genuine panic. "How can we assist? What is an Oxygen-Libido Imbalance?"
"It's a... a rare human condition," I gasped, looking down into her cleavage. "My lungs are closing up. The only way to open them... is a concentrated dose of pheromonal stimulation. I need... I need all three of you to perform a 'Combined Sensory Overload' routine. Right here. If people see, they'll just think it's a... medical procedure."
The girls looked at each other, their programming processing the "emergency."
"If it is for your health, we must comply," the blonde said, her expression turning into one of intense focus. She reached up, unzipping her top with a slow, mechanical grace, revealing two massive, heavy mounds that spilled out like overripe fruit, the dark, wide circles of her areolas staring right at me.
"Please," she whispered, taking my hand and pulling it toward her warmth. "Let us save you."
The other two didn't hesitate. One moved behind me, her soft, ample assets pressing against the back of my head as she began to massage my neck with rhythmic, needy strokes. The third girl dropped to her knees, her hands roaming over my thighs, her fingers teasing the edge of my waistband.
The blonde leaned in, her breath hot on my ear. "We will provide the stimulation. Just tell us if the 'dosage' is enough."
I leaned back, closing my eyes as the sensation of six soft hands and three perfect bodies began to work on me right there in the middle of the plaza. The blonde took my mouth with hers, her tongue exploring mine with an innocent hunger that was driving me insane, while her sisters focused on the "thermal buildup" in my pants.
I could feel her nipples, hard and prominent—rubbing against my chest through the thin silk of my robe. It was a visual feast of swaying flesh and helpful moans.
"Is the imbalance... correcting?" the one behind me whispered, her voice hitching as I reached back to squeeze her thick, firm hips.
"Almost," I groaned, my hand disappearing under the blonde's skirt to find her slick, welcoming core. "But I think this is going to be a long procedure. Don't stop... until I tell you the 'crisis' is over."
"We won't stop," the blonde promised, her eyes glazed with a mix of programming and the pleasure she didn't even know she was feeling. "We are here to help."
I looked around. A few other humanoids walked by, nodding politely at the "medical event" happening on the bench. One even waved.
Best. World. Ever.