Chapter 9: "Queen of Nickelodeon… in Her Dreams"

The bed glowed softly with the ambient blue light of her dream processor initializing, syncing her

REM mode into a smooth digital cascade. Jenny's eyelids fluttered slightly beneath the blanket,

her bare body curled tight beneath the sheets, every curve and joint in a state of weightless

serenity.

And then—boom. The dream hit like a neon flood.

She stood center stage on a blazing Paramount backdrop, lights flashing, crowds roaring,

Nickelodeon slime cannons exploding on either side. A massive banner unfurled above:

"MY LIFE AS A TEENAGE ROBOT: REBOOT ANNOUNCED!"

Jenny blinked, chrome armor glistening in actual custom-designed fashionwear. Modest, sleek,

stylish—clothing that stayed on. The press surged forward, microphones scrambling.

"How does it feel to finally be back?"

"Will there be new episodes?"

"Can you confirm Season 4?"

She smirked into the cameras. "I never left, baby. You just forgot where to look."

Her theme song blasted in a remixed synthwave cover. Fan signs waved from the crowd.

#XJ9Returns trended worldwide.

Then came the new intro sequence—brighter, sleeker animation, stylized character upgrades,

polished voice acting, real love poured into every frame. And she wasn't alone.

Brad was a fan favorite now—"the coolest himbo on TV."

Tuck had his own spin-off podcast.

Sheldon had merch, plushies, a nerdcore album.

Even Nora Wakeman became a meme queen, the internet dubbing her "Robot MILF Supreme"

(to Jenny's eternal embarrassment).

And her—Jenny Wakeman? She wasn't just a star.

She was the Queen of Nickelodeon.

There was a full network ad campaign. She hosted award shows. Her reboot got Emmy

nominations. Toys, shirts, Funko Pops, cereal boxes with her face on them. Kids wore her visor

lenses as fashion accessories.

Slime-green carpet events. Red carpet premieres. Streaming deals. Crossover episodes with

Invader Zim and El Tigre. Danny Phantom gave her a shout-out during his reboot trailer. Even

SpongeBob bowed to her during a sketch.

"Jenny Wakeman has officially dethroned the Sponge," said a Variety headline.

She stood atop a digital Nickelodeon palace, crown tilted on her head, cape blowing in the wind,

smiling at her kingdom of fans, friends, and finally, recognition.

Everything was perfect.

And then—

FZZZT

WHHRRRRRRRTTTT

Jenny jolted awake, one nipple slipping free from under the blanket as her eyes shot open.

Her bed was cold.

Her room was dim.

And the only thing echoing in her ears now was the faint buzz of a SpongeBob SquarePants

marathon running nonstop on the TV across the hall.

She stared blankly at the ceiling.

"…Goddammit."

She flopped her arm over her eyes, blanket sliding off her bare breast. Her circuits hummed

irritably.

"Of course it was a dream. Of course I'm not queen of anything. Of course they don't care about

me anymore."

Outside her room, Nora yelled, "Jenny, SpongeBob's on again for the seventh straight hour!"

"Of course he is," she muttered, teeth grinding.

"Loud House comes on right after!"

Jenny groaned, yanking the blanket over her head in theatrical despair.

"No one even remembers I existed unless I flash a nipple in public. I'm a walking nude protest

sign because Nickelodeon has the attention span of a gnat on Adderall!"

She buried her face in the pillow, muffling a scream.

"…I was on the NASB2 cover. They didn't promote it. I was a literal mascot and they shoved me

under the rug."

She sighed, voice cracking just a little. "I just wanted one more real chance…"

She curled tighter, chest pressed to the sheets, blanket hugging her naked form again like the

only thing in the world that hadn't betrayed her.

"But no. Just more SpongeBob. Just more Loud House. And me? Just a glitchy naked footnote."

She paused.

"…But I was a damn good footnote."

And somehow, that made her smile again.