The medium-security wing of TFX Penitentiary was a veritable bastion of civilization compared to the horror of the Processing Center. The new arrivals were ushered in. They were mostly blue-collar criminals - accountants, a smattering of low-level drug dealers, and petty thieves. Thanks to their lawyers, their sentences were lenient, and they'd made it through processing with their genitals intact.

Still, the dehumanizing sight of violent offenders being forcibly animalized and wrestled into cages had knocked the fight out of them. They shuffled in, shoulders slumped, ankle chains jingling.

"Well, lookie here. Fresh meat," a guard sneered to see them huddling in nervous silence. "Welcome to Hotel TFX. You'll find your stay here pleasant enough - so long as you do what you're told. We only have two kinds of people here: Good Girls, and Bad Girls. You do not want to be the latter. But I'll let our Best Girl explain. FM-43! Your new playmates are here."

"Oh, my God! Roomies!" came a low-pitched squeal.

A glossy gynoid in prison-issue orange pranced towards them. Its feminine chassis gleamed under the dim prison lighting, but perched atop the sleek metallic body was a tattooed, human, unmistakably male head, smiling.

The men recoiled in revulsion as the nature of this thing became apparent by the unnatural thinness of the gynoid's limbs. It was no mere suit that the man was wearing. His arms and legs were missing - an amputee mounted within a robotic exoskeleton, a pair of metal breasts welded grotesquely onto his torso.

"What the fuck is that thing?" croaked a wiry man with a faceful of scars.

"I'm your new BFF! Oh, I'm so looking forward to our first sleepover!" chirruped the robot in a syrupy-sweet, masculine voice. It turned to the guard, clasping its hands together pleadingly and cuddling closer. "It's okay if we stay up late tonight, isn't it, master? I want to get to get to know them. We have so many stories to share!"

"Hm. Since you asked so sweetly," the guard chuckled, resting his thick fingers on the gynoid's helps before turning to the group. "FM-43 here is a model inmate. From the moment she arrived, she was eager to help out wherever she could. She even requested limb removal so she could serve us better. Now, she’s one of the most invaluable appliances in this prison. Take notes, boys. You’d do well to follow her example."

The scarred man snarled. “This is sick. What have you bastards done to him?”

The guard’s expression darkened, his hand moving toward the stun baton on his hip. Before he could draw it, FM-43 gently placed her robotic hand on his arm, leaning in with a practiced pout. She bounced lightly on her heels, her cold metal chest brushing against his.

“Don’t break my toys before I get a chance to play with them, master,” she cooed.

The guard hesitated, then let out a low chuckle, patting the gynoid’s head fondly. To the horror of the new arrivals, he pulled her into a slow, lingering kiss.

“Alright, Best Girl,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “they’re all yours. Teach them how we do things around here. And make sure no one steps out of line.”