Chapter 1: Familiar Quarters
Wheatley groaned as he came to. His vision was still blurry, a remnant of the long bout of unconsciousness, wherever that had come from. In any case, the view from this position left a lot to be desired, only affording him a look at the dulled once-white ceiling tiles.
"Wait." His mental processors roared to life, recalling the last events before the blackness set in. Ceiling tiles meant that he was in a building, as in a building on earth, and being on earth meant no longer being stranded in the cold, eternal vacuum of space.
The transfer, no, his plan… A jolt of excitement ran through him. His plan had worked.
He tried to roll over to get a better look at his surroundings only to roll off the plateau on which he was resting. But before he could think to brace for the harsh and inevitable impact, something caught him. A pale fleshy stalk with some sort of handlike apparatus on the end was gripping the edge of a small table beside the platform from which he had slipped, though how it was suspending him in midair was completely beyond him, unless…
Cautiously, his eyes wandered along the unknown support, following it as his stomach tied itself into anxious knots until— He let out a shrill sound of surprise, and the hand released, sending him tumbling to the floor with a clumsy and uneven whump that knocked his glasses loose. A strong sense of panic swarmed around him as he struggled to make sense of the situation.
"Not supposed to be in a bloody human body," he said, the words spilling from his mouth in a terrified gush. "That wasn't part of the plan. I-I should be in a new core on my management rail with everything peachy keen!" Pushing himself up to a sitting position, his eyes darted about the room, hauntingly bare, searching for a spare. If there was one thing humans were good at, it was doing things with their hands, like setting up core transfers.
The entirety of the room was styled in the same drab, light-gray nakedness as the ceiling, something that made this new human part of him uneasy. Or maybe that was just the chilly, recycled air. He shivered and instinctively pulled his knees to his chest, clinging to the small sensation of warmth it created with a wistful sigh. Clothed as his new form was, the protection the loose khaki slacks and wrinkled polo provided was, in his opinion, quite minimal, especially when considering the bareness of his feet. And there were still no cores in sight. At least he knew his basic instincts were more or less intact.
With unexpected ease—it only took him six tries—he pulled himself to his feet, leaning on the platform for support. Either it was incredibly tall or he was a good bit shorter than the average human male. He greatly hoped it was the former, although there was no concrete reason. Should he be forced to take residence inside a human, he felt that he deserved a taller one, something that could serve as a tribute to his own greatness and brilliance.
Bipedalism was the way to go for humans, he decided, his gaze drifting about the room. It afforded a much better view than his previous position on the ground, although it still paled in comparison to his management rail. It always gave him a spectacular as-the-crow-flies kind of view, safe and secure as he observed the humans' deep sleep, rolling about the facility whenever—and just about wherever—he pleased, and… He really needed to stop doting on that.
His eyes fell back to the platform. A simple raised slab of stainless steel, its only decorations of any sort were the straps bolted to it—approximately where the arms and legs would go, he noted, a haze of dread settling in his thoughts. He did his best to not dwell on the table's purpose or its past visitors and especially not on the identity of the few rust-colored splatters around where his head had been resting.
Hands never leaving the table, he turned his back to the ominous marks and, with a well-planned hop, sat dangling his legs over the edge.
"Alright, mate," he said to himself, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Yes, there have been some bumps in the road, but at least those are recoverable, right? In fact, we can flip some of these twists around, make them into helpful things! Like, er, the human bit, for example. You wanted to find the lady in the jumpsuit and apologize and all that, and what better way to do it than as one of her own kind! Make a personal connection now that you're all smelly and," he swallowed, uncertainly examining the thinness of his limbs. "Vulnerable…"
After a few moments, he reeled his mind back in. "So that's the plan then. Find the quiet lady and ask for forgiveness. Beg even, if you have to! Tell her how sorry you are for being so monstrous and bossy. Apologize for the testing, too. For all those wondrous tests she solved for you…" His words faded out, replaced by a warm and delightful sensation, a memory all too fresh and familiar. The wonderful heat swept over his body, trickling deliciously down his chest and stomach, leaving most of it to pool between his legs. He didn't feel guilty enough to not enjoy it, and a small airy sound escaped his lips.
His pants felt a little tighter, and the discomfort startled him, yanking him back into the present and heightening his panic once more. Whatever was going on was unusual and unexpected, and therefore dangerous. He retained very little knowledge from the core database, making every reaction that was unique to the human body little more than a potential time bomb. He needed an expert and fast.
"And then she'll take ol' Wheatley in and help him find a nice core to transfer to. Or at least help him fix this defective body before it explodes or something awful like that." He didn't say the words as much as motor through them. Scrambling to his feet and using the wall for balance, he sidled over to the doorway and out into the hall, more anxious than ever to find his former test subject.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading this far, but be warned! The next chapter caters to a fair amount of kinks, some of which may be found to be on the squicky side of things!