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LongTimeLurker

2022-10-20T16:41:24Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "Testing! https://www.fembotwiki.com/index.php?title=File:Winter_from_Lady_in_Waiting.png https://www.fembotwiki.com/index.php?title=File:Winter_from_Lady_in_Waiting_(Malfunctioning).jpg"

Testing!

https://www.fembotwiki.com/index.php?title=File:Winter_from_Lady_in_Waiting.png

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Fire Hazard

2022-08-17T14:46:01Z

LongTimeLurker: Added Trix Manip

Eric gave the abandoned strip club an appraising glance, deciding on the equipment he might need for this investigation. On the surface, it wasn’t obvious that a fire had been what shut the place down, but they were clearly not open for business. He was alone in the dark, silent parking lot, the club’s neon signs only illuminated by Eric’s headlights. He cocked a smile when he noticed one proudly proclaiming, “All Human!”

“If that were true,” he muttered to himself, dragging out a heavy portable generator from his trunk, “I wouldn’t be here.”

Lugging his gear to the door, he was immediately challenged by a pair of cordons, each looking like oversized blue traffic cones, spaced on either side of the front door. “Halt,” they chimed in unison, “You are approaching the scene of an active investigation. Unauthorized entry-“

Eric flashed his screen at one of the cordon’s scanners, and the voice was instantly more agreeable. “Welcome, Mr. Black.”

“Has the fire inspector been through here?” he asked, shifting the heavy generator to his other hand.

“No, Mr. Black,” a cordon replied. “You are the first to arrive since the departure of the emergency responders.”

“Probably hoping I’ll do his job for him,” Eric muttered, stepping into the club.

Inside, what little light was admitted through the open door didn’t show much beyond a dust-choked room that reeked of fire-suppression foam. Setting down the generator with a resonant thud, he flipped the on switch. Its shrill whine was soon eclipsed by some pop ballad thumping through what remained of the club’s sound system as power was restored. Lights bathed the club in a dim twilight of purples and blues, illuminating chairs and tables surrounding a central stage that was piled high with broken fembots.

Eric let out an exasperated sigh, wondering if whoever had done this ‘cleanup’ knew how much more difficult this made things for him. Most of them were missing their synth-skin covering, exposing grey plastic where their endo-frame shell was rigid, or white where more pliable gel-packs formed their pliable curves. Wires, tubing, and armatures protruded from damaged limbs and blown panels, and the whole stage was dripping with the various fluids that would have provided a working bot with hydraulic pressure, lubricant, and cooling. Some limbs twitched as they received wireless power from his generator, coupled with a few indecorous moans, but he doubted there was a single functioning cpu in that mess. Just as he was getting ready to begin sifting and scanning through the pile, he heard a sound to his side.

“Woah, what happened?” a voice grunted, and he turned his head to see a bot standing up from behind the bar, clutching her head. She was fully human in appearance, untouched by the heat that had melted the synth-skin off the others. She was designed with a punk look to her, her short dark hair in a frayed, red-tipped razor-bob, a handful of piercings along her brows that were set above a field of liberally applied black eye shadow. The arm that held her head was covered in a tattooed sleeve of roses, a stack of glinting bangles at her wrist. She was dressed in a tight-fitting tank top, its low neckline showcasing pale cleavage that hungrily swallowed the pendants and charms hanging from the various necklaces she wore. “Christ, I need a drink… How long was I out?”

Eric hadn’t counted on getting many straight answers from this investigation, especially since the club’s owner had disappeared, and so finding a fully functioning bot was very welcome sign. “When does your internal clock say you powered down?”

“…What do you mean, ‘powered down’?” her voice a rasp that occasionally broke into a girly lilt. “What are you, a robot or something?” she asked, pouring herself a shot and downing it with a slight cough.

“You don’t need to pretend with me, I’m not a customer,” Eric said. “I’m here to find out if any malfunctioning bots or AI systems were at fault for the fire.” He didn’t need to have this conversation – he could just reset the bot and bypass her personality software, and she’d answer his questions directly. But even if these bots weren’t sentient, he enjoyed interacting with them all the same, if for no other reason than to appraise the simulation aspects of their software.

“We don’t have any bots here,” she said, pouring a second shot, nudging it his way. “Didn’t you see the sign?”

“Your programming requires you to directly answer a licensed R.I.,” Eric said flatly, showing her a screen displaying the credentials that would earn the compliance of any civilian A.I.

“Actually, what my ‘programming’ is telling me to do,” she sneered, recalling the proffered drink, “is to tell you to go fuck yourself.” She shot it herself, wiped her mouth, and fixed him with a smirk. Although Eric was amused by this unexpected defiance, her routine was clearly corrupted.

Either:
A: She was running some piece of after-market garbage that was mucking with her compliance (bad)
B: She had been programmed to deliberately ignore official dictates (very bad)
or
C: Heat, smoke, extinguishing foam, or something else related to the fire had damaged her CPU.

And if it wasn’t ‘C’, that would be, at minimum, a hefty fine for the owner - he made a note of her noncompliance on his screen, knowing he would need something more substantial than that small devices meager CPU to reset the defiant gynoid.

Eric spun a chair near the stage to face the bar and its still-smirking robot bartender and took a seat, retiring his screen in favor of his far more capable laptop – but before he could initiate the process that would attach itself to her systems and override her processes, the sound of footsteps behind him drew his attention.

Stepping free from the heap of her broken compatriots was the bare slate-gray-and-off-white chassis of a fembot devoid of synth-skin. She strutted confidently along the stage toward him, hips swinging to the bass line of the synth-pop ballad pulsing from the club speakers, her gel-filled curves jiggling with every step. The delicate animatronics in her head drew the white and hairless (but otherwise human) sub-mask of her face into a sultry smile. “Small crowd,” she remarked, distorted static and reverb corrupting an otherwise dainty southern drawl, “Looks like you’re getting a private show…”

“’No bots, eh?’” Eric asked the bartender, who seemed annoyed by the fembot’s presence.

After a few involuntary shudders and false starts, the bartender finally jabbed a finger at the grey-and-white fembot and managed, “Yeah, well… that piece of plastic garbage doesn’t work here!”

“Sure I do, Trix,” the gynoid responded, stepping down from the stage and walking just past Eric, a shift in her hips delivering a playful quiver to the smooth and soft hemispheres of here white backside. “It’s me, Sadie.”

“S-S-Sadie is human!” stammered Trix with a growl.

“Why, of course I’m human,” Sadie whispered, thighs parting as she stood astride Eric’s lap, hips dipping in a soft, smooth arc, her pert, eggshell cheeks barely brushing the sudden bulge in his jeans. She glanced over her shoulder, the smooth, white mask of her face wearing a teasing smile.

“I’m not here to-“ Eric managed before another arc of her hips brought another kiss from her gel-packed derriere to his almost painful erection, her hands gliding across plastic curves as the music throbbed and pulsed behind pouty, suggestive vocals.

“Hey, Sadie,” Trix said with sarcastic enthusiasm. “How about a wet t-shirt contest?”

She froze in confusion, bent forward, back arched. “What in God’s name are you talking about, Trix? Do I even look like I’m wearin’-”

Trix held out a soda gun and sprayed Sadie’s chest panel with a stream of clear water. Sadie tried unsuccessfully to block the stream with outstretched hands, sputtering a startled, “Wh-what the hell, Trix?!”

The bartender removed her thumb and held the dripping gun coyly at her shoulder.

“What was that all about?” Sadie demanded, water cascading from her smooth, featureless breasts and grey paneling.

Trix remained silent, though a cruel smile crept across her dark lips.

“Listen you smug littlllllllll-“ there was an electrical pop from inside Sadie, and she jerked to one side. “You liiiitllllllll-“ another snap and she spilled backwards on to Eric’s lap with an unintelligible electronic growl. Despite the rather pleasant sensation of her cushioned backside pressing firmly against his crotch, the rising smoke and a burning electrical smell from her trembling chassis suppressed several of Eric’s immediate impulses in favor of taking more pragmatic action. He took her hips and lifted her off of him, but her plastic heels slid in the water pooling around his chair and she was once more in his lap, now with his arms slipping past her waist.

“You l-l-lllike me w-w-wet, do ya’?” As she attempted a sensuous repose he could see lights flaring from the gaps in her panels, and she suddenly slammed backward into him, disrupting his second attempt to remove her. “S-s-so hot…” she moaned, roughly massaging her gel-pack breasts as her thighs spread wide. A moment later, the paneling on her abdomen split open as fans inside her whirred louder, the components within the darkened cavity briefly lit by the sparks of shorting electrical systems.

“Say, you wouldn’t be able to g-g-get the managerrrr, would ya?” she asked her hand curiously probing the rim of the opening in her chassis as sparks continued to spill out.

“My advice would be to shut down,” Eric suggested.

“And how would I d-d-do that?”

“Remove your wireless power transceiver.”

“Human’s don’t h-h-aaaaave those!” She convulsed with another fountain of sparks, feet kicking out as her hips gave an aimless thrust, then resettling with her distressingly warm ass grinding against Eric’s pants.

“Well, try sticking your hand into the gaping hole in your stomach…” he began.

“Uh huhhh…” she said absently, calmly putting her hand inside herself.

“Reach up behind here,” he poked the panel at her sternum

“Yeah…?” she moaned, one hand venturing deeper as the other pushed and squeezed the swells of her now smoking chest.

“You should feel a cylinder – just pull it from its housing.”

She jerked something loose, pulling it free from inside of her and then staring at the blinking power transceiver emptily as her head shuddered. “Now whaaaaaaaat…” her voice deepened in register as she slumped to one side, falling on to the floor with a heavy thud.

“My turn,” said the bartender ‘Trix’, and turned the soda gun on herself, leaning forward on the bar. Squeezing the trigger, she drenched her pale breasts, alabaster synth-skin showing through her now-transparent top, her darker nipples stiffening against the soaking white fabric. “Wow, no smoke, no sparks…” she threw the soda gun on the bar and leaned dramatically forward, her breasts compressing against her folded arms. “Just wet tits.”

As fun as this was, Eric knew he still had a job to do, and she wasn’t helping. He took out his laptop and, flipping it on, said, “Trix, I think what you need is a good…”

“Yeah?” she asked, leaning further forward, water pooling beneath her glistening cleavage.

Running his diagnostic software, he quickly identified Trix’s signal and established a connection. “…hard…”

“…yeah…?” she licked her dark lips.

Eric brought up the list of admin commands, and confirmed his selection. “…reset.”

“…what?” the robot looked at him in confusion and suddenly jerked back, a pulsing light illuminating her brown eyes from within. “B-b-but I’m nnnnot a b-b-bott-t-t error conflicting protoc-c-coll override humannn-“ She mechanically grabbed a bottle and shot glass, spilling half of its contents with a sloppy poor. “I-I-I nneeeed a d-d-error conflict directivvve-“ she dropped the bottle which shattered on the floor and then stood rigidly upright, head twitching stiffly left-then-right, her intermittently glowing eyes still fixed forward.

Eric was surprised by this display and hammered the key that would re-transmit the reset command, uncertain why this happening.

The bartender-bot’s shuddering managed a strange smile as she said, “Nnnnooo s-s-sparkssss, j-j-just wet t-t-tiiiiibzzzt!…” she gave a sharp jerk and then slumped forward, arms dangling at her side.

He waited for the reboot that would bring her back online, but she simply stood there. Very strange - there was nothing obviously wrong according to his diagnostic software – it looked like he’d have to bring her back to the shop.

Eric gave a quick scan for additional AI-core activity, but couldn’t find any other functioning bots on the premises. Closing his laptop, Eric sighed – his hopes for a quick and easy investigation were fading fast.

------

Eric hooked the slumped-over gynoid bartender around the waist and dragged her on her boot heels through the bar, her wet tank top soaking through his sleeve. He felt a bit self-conscious passing the automated cordons, imagining what their recorded footage must look like – him hauling an inert sexbot to his car, her shapely breasts practically bared beneath the clinging, near-translucent fabric of her top.

“I need to bring her to the lab,” he announced to the cordon, “for my… the… investigation.” Of course there was no response.

After securing the gynoid in the passenger’s seat, he made his way back to the club for a final pass. He walked from room to room, his flashlight passing over charred detritus until something caught his eye. In one of the back rooms, tangled up in blackened bedsprings, was a twisted robotic endoskeleton – the only bot not to have been piled up on stage (well, this one and ‘Trix’).

Electronics scattered around the room told him this one had apparently exploded – and he was willing to bet she had been the source of the fire. While collecting what he could from the destroyed machine, he happened to notice a reinforced plasteel case tucked in the corner, evidently having survived the fire intact. Cracking it open, he found empty foam inserts, along with a paper manual for a VR sensory recording rig. If someone had been recording when the fire broke out, that would be the kind of evidence an inspector dreamt of – assuming he could find this strip-club auteur. A label on the manual read, “Affordable Rentals”, along with a phone number.

----

Eric was amused that tonight his RI credentials seemed to be working better with humans than with robots, setting his destination to the address of the customer given to him by the rental clerk. As the car rolled out of the lot, the screen displayed that there a new draw on the car battery, followed by Trix’s rasping voice mumbling, “Woah, what happened?”

Eric jumped as the gynoid abruptly stirred to life. Trix shook her red-tipped bangs and blinked a few times before taking in her new surroundings without any show of surprise or concern. When she glanced down to see her wet shirt, she gave a disappointed sigh and turned the car’s heat on full, aiming the cabin’s vents at chest level. “So where are we going?” she shouted over the fan, pulling the top loose from her synthetic skin and flapping it against the rush of hot air, providing Eric fleeting glimpses of her stiff nipples. Her tugging seemed slow until she was holding her top apart from her, fully exposing her cream-white bust and a small floral tattoo. After he realized he was staring, he glanced up to see her fix him with a chastising smile before releasing her shirt to snap back against her pale cleavage.

Eric had never seen a gynoid provoke someone like this, and he wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by her defiance of administrative commands or her mocking flirtation. After turning down the heater, he pulled up her profile on his screen while she looked at the glowing device skeptically. “I’m starting to think you’re more interested in electronics than girls…”

He presented her with the screen flashing and transmitting his credentials, trying once more to override her processes. She glanced at the screen with an annoyed expression for only a second before snatching it from him and tossed it out the window. Eric watched the glowing device bounce along the freeway until it met its end beneath the wheels of a semi.

He turned back to her, dumbstruck, as she said, “Yeah, so where are we going again?”

Her defiance was one thing, but the willful destruction of property should have been impossible on a hardware level – he even had to consider that she could be capable of harming a human. She was a risk, and he reached back to get his laptop and shut her down once more. She glanced at the device and raised a pierced eyebrow. “How many of your toys am I gonna have to toss out the window before you talk to me?”

Eric paused – maybe it was best just to play nice for now. “Do you know Gary Whitmore?”

She gave a knowing smile. “Sure, I know Gary. He’s into Jasmine.”

“Jasmine is a ‘bot at the club?”

“Jasmine is a girl at the club,” she sneered. “What is it with you and this robot obsession?”

“I need to talk to Gary about a few things… did you see him last night?”

Trix chewed her lip. “Last night’s a bit hazy, but yeah – pretty sure he was there.”

“What do you remember about last night?”

“Not much,” she groaned, pressing her hand against her temple.

The car stopped in front of a small, well-maintained house on a suburban street. When he stepped out of the car, Trix followed. He thought about trying to get her to stay behind, or trying for his laptop again, but decided against having that fight. Besides, maybe Trix could help him get something out of Gary.

Eric gave a brief rap on the door, and it was quickly answered by a housebot sporting a suite of fairly obvious modifications.

Given the subsidies readily available for domestic robots, they were far more affordable than even the cheapest ‘recreational’ droids. And this meant that people who had more imagination than cash could pick up a cheap domestic bot, buy a conversion kit, and provide their bargain-bot with a few ‘additional’ features. In this case, the simple black-and-white plastic bot was kitted out with some impressive curves, her substantial (albeit white plastic) bust filling out a cropped t-shirt, athletic shorts clinging to her enhanced hips. Her head was still the base-model display, abstract, monochromatic eyes and lips projected on to the sheer black visor.

“You have got to be kidding,” Trix murmured, looking the droid up and down as her visor displayed beaming eyes and a welcoming smile.

“May I help you?” the housebot asked in a cheerful, digitized voice.

“I need to speak to Gary Whitmore – is he in?”

The housebot’s features snapped into a sympathetic pout. “I’m afraid master is indisposed at the moment, but if you would care to leave your-“

“I’m a licensed RI. I… hold on…” Reaching into his pocket, Eric realized he no longer had his screen. After shooting Trix a glare, he muttered, “One moment,” and headed back to his car.

When he was only a few steps away, he heard the housebot exclaim, “Release me, please. You are not authorizzz<bzzzat>!”

“Hey, inspector!” Trix called. “Catch!”

He turned just in time to see something hurtling toward him. Reflexively catching it, he recognized it as an auxiliary CPU stem, responsible for (among other tasks) fine motor coordination, filtering sensory data, and managing cooling and power distribution. The housebot was stumbling backwards away from Trix and toward Eric, an access panel open at the nape of her plastic neck revealing an empty slot and a light blinking in warning. Her movements were stiff without the component Eric now held, and she pivoted haltingly to fix a projected face furrowed in concern at him. “Please return that component,” she said in fluctuating tone, “it does not belong to you.”

As she stepped roughly toward him, Trix sidled up beside her, slipping her hand down the back of the housebot’s shorts.

“What are you doing?!” Eric demanded, as the housebot stiffened, her projected eyes flaring in cartoonish surprise.

“She’s got a great ass, I’ll give her that,” Trix muttered, the exertion of her fingers visible through the housebot’s shorts. The domestic robot’s rubber and plastic legs began to tremble, and she clasped her jointed hands in front of the ‘o’ of her two-dimensional mouth. “Oohh!” she gasped, her body shuddering as Trix continued to finger her mod-kit sex. Smoke began to rise from the droid’s numerous seams while her body rattled and heaved, her voice exclaiming, “W-warning! H-heat l-levels critical! E-emergency shut-d-d-down!”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Stop that! You’re gonna break her…”

“Fine, she’s all yours,” Trix responded, shoving the trembling robot into Eric’s arms. She collapsed against him with a lustful moan, heat and smoke radiating from her while her panels were beginning to shake loose. “P-please d-don’t tell m-master!” she groaned, pressing her failing plastic body against him. Eric spun the droid around to return her missing component to the back of her neck, but rather than remain still, she bent forward and ground her big ass against his crotch, the sudden bulge in his pants wedging her shorts between the white hemispheres of her plump aftermarket backside.

Eric leaned over her to reach the port at her neck, inadvertently pushing against her as she whimpered with pleasure. He was about to re-slot the component, but found himself hesitating, distracted by the sensation of her soft rubberized ass gyrating slowly against his body. Without even realizing he was doing it, his fingers lost their grip on her shoulder and were now slipping down her shirt over the heated, pliable material of her generous tits, gliding across that smooth expanse until brushing up against the firm protrusion of a stiff plastic nipple. She gasped, the nipple buzzing at his touch, and he felt her cheeks clench against his stiff erection. With an electrical squeal warm fluid burst from multiple seams around her hips. He quickly slotted the CPU stem, but it was too late - her head wrenched back to look at him in a flickering slideshow of her primitive face in rapt ecstasy. “F-failure in shut-dow-dow-dow-“ her looping voice deteriorated into a garbled wash of noise as the housebot quivered, light bursting from behind her visor, one of her ‘eyes’ winking out, the other a cartoon heart blinking like a turn signal. With a final convulsion, the broken droid collapsed against the ground, her plastic panels askew, leaking smoke and fluid.

“You’re just leaving a trail of broken-hearted fembots in your wake, aren’t you?” Trix mused, prodding the twitching housebot’s smoldering bust with the toe of her boot. “You sick little puppy…”

Eric looked around him, relieved to see that no one had been watching his rather unprofessional conduct with the domestic droid, then focused on Trix. “You’ve done enough damage for one night.” He approached the amused gynoid, slipping his hand under her top, resting his fingers against her smooth abdomen.

“Is that so?” Trix purred, wrapping her arms around his waist in response. “And here I thought we were just getting started…”

He pressed firmly above and below her navel – nothing happened. He shifted his fingers and tried again, soliciting from her nothing more than a giggle.

“Foreplay is not your strong suit,” Trix whispered in his ear, sliding her fingers over the bulge in his pants. With a grunt of frustration, he spun her around and pushed at shoulder blades inked with feathered wing tattoos – still nothing. “Are you doing some kind of deep tissue thing?” she asked, a slight lean from her bringing the curves of her denim-clad ass into contact with his groin.

“Where is your main access port?!” Eric demanded, lifting her shirt to try the small of her back.

“I’m not a robot, asshole!” she growled, pushing him away. “The only ‘access port’ I’ve got is in the same one as every other girl.” She stalked back to the car. “And your access has been revoked.” She sat on the hood of his car and began to fiddle with her bangles. “Go have fun with Gary.”

At least she’s out of the way, he thought, returning to the front door. Still open. “Mr. Whitman?” he called. “It’s inspector Black, just wanted to ask a few questions.” He wondered how he would react to the state of his housebot, but at least Gary couldn’t take any legal recourse - modding a government subsidized domestic droid for sexual purposes was explicitly illegal, and even if the housebot’s owner had witnessed the whole debacle, he couldn’t have charged Eric with anything. But the fact that the bot was in a smoldering heap on his front lawn certainly wouldn’t encourage Gary’s cooperation.

Peering in, Eric could see the glow of a screen down the hall. He pushed the door open wider, revealing a man in a recliner wearing a VR rig, dead to the world around him. Eric stepped inside, taking a look at the open laptop – Gary was running an experience recorded just last night… the timestamp just before the fire. Eric only needed a few seconds on the man’s unsecured laptop to transfer the recording to his own server, then erase all evidence of the transfer. If this evidence was what he needed, he’d pay Gary a visit with the proper paperwork. “Thank you for your cooperation,” Eric muttered, returning to his car.

“You get what you need?” Trix asked, sliding off his hood.

“Actually… yeah, I think so.”

“Well, at least one of us did,” she said in a mocking tone, slumping into the passenger seat.

With a frustrated sigh, Eric took the driver’s seat, noticing from the display that Trix was still drawing power from the battery. “Eric, you fucking moron,” he muttered to himself, selecting the option to disable the robot’s wireless power connection and wondering why he hadn’t done that in the first place.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Trix muttered as his finger hovered above the display asking him to confirm the severing of her access to the car’s power. “You might still have a shot. Where to next?”

Eric told himself there was no good reason to leave this droid powered on, and she had already given him several on why she should be shut down... but when her narrowed eyes, it almost seemed like she was daring him to leave her on. Hell, this investigation had certainly been a lot more interesting with her around…

“Gary provided us with VR footage of the bar just before the fire,” Eric explained, cancelling the command that would have left Trix without power. “Gonna head back to my place and check it out.”

“Back to your place, huh?” she said with a suspicious grin. “Pretty forward of you, inspector.”

“Somewhere else you need to be?” Eric asked, genuinely curious as to how she would respond.

The droid’s face froze for a second, her eyes drifting slightly – in the silence of the car, he could faintly hear mechanisms within her clicking furiously before she snapped to with a nonchalant, “Not really… Looks like you’ve got a partner, inspector.” She reclined her seat, stretching out her tattooed arms. “Someone to play good cop to your bad.”

Eric chuckled and set the destination to his apartment.

------

“Here we are,” Eric announced, his car gliding to a stop in front of his apartment. Trix glanced at him, still wearing a questioning smile.

“So… what now?” she asked, her words migrating from gravelly to girlish and suggestive.

“Now, I check Gary’s VR footage from the club and see if it sheds any light on what happened.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And then?”

“Then, I put together my report.” He’d have to mention Trix, of course – the lone surviving bot, one corrupted by illegal and dangerous mods. She’d probably be wiped. Would have to be. Such a shame, though. Regardless of the danger she demonstrably posed to others property, whatever cocktail of software she was running resulted in emergent behavior he had never witnessed before.

“And then you file the report, right?” the gynoid said with an eye-roll, slipping out of the car. “You ever think of anything besides work?”

Eric ignored the bait and walked to the front door where he was promptly admitted by the apartment’s concierge (a mid-range gynoid that could pass as human if you didn’t look too closely). “Good evening, Mr. Black,” the blandly attractive and formally dressed droid stated in a polite tone, a stock-photo smile on her perfectly symmetrical face. “Good evening, ma’am,” she added as Trix followed him in, the concierge’s pleasant expression unfazed despite Trix’s obvious disdain.

“Hey, Eric,” Trix called, cupping the droid’s face and turning it side to side. “Wanna have some fun with her?”

“Is there something I can help you with?” the droid inquired.

“Leave her alone, Trix,” Eric said, suddenly nervous that he was about to lose his damage deposit. But Trix sighed and let her go, joining him at the stairs.

“Yeah, I there’s been enough robotic cock-teasing for one night…”

“What is it you have against robots?” Eric asked, noticing her punk-pixie features twitch slightly at the question.

“I work at an all-human strip club. Have you seen what we’re up against?” She glanced down at the vapid concierge below them, smiling pleasantly while staring at the wall. “I don’t think most guys care whether they’re real or not anymore.” She looked back at Eric. “I mean … you certainly don’t seem to discriminate. Am I right?”

“Tonight has been fairly atypical for me,” Eric muttered, opening his apartment door. Trix brushed past him and looked around at the clean and well-organized (if sparse) living space.

“Look at this place... You’re wound up tighter than I thought,” she chuckled, marching toward the kitchen and conducting a quick search of the cupboards.

“Make yourself at home,” Eric muttered, heading over to this work space. He heard her give a cry of success and the clinking of glass, realizing she had found the alcohol. While he pulled down Gary’s VR recording and set up his own rig, Trix approached with a shot in each hand.

“Here’s to a quick end to this case,” she proposed, pushing the glass into his hand. “And finding out if some robot bitch torched my bar.”

He clinked his glass against hers, downed the shot, and gave Trix a final, “Try not to break anything,” before pulling the headset on. He felt the brief wave of discomfort as the system registered senses that weren’t his own. In an instant he was suffused in the club’s smoky and perfumed musk, his vision clarifying to a dimly lit back room whose walls resonated with the thumping bass outside. Sensations came in and out of focus as adjustments were made to the VR recording gear, when his attention was drawn to an opening door, admitting club music and a sultry, copper-skinned woman dressed as Cleopatra. She wore a gold circlet resting atop silken black hair, her chestnut-colored eyes elegantly outlined in black. Strips of white cloth supported her swollen breasts, with another swatch worn high over her hips and draping over the intersection of her thighs. She approached in jeweled sandals, thin strips of leather lacing up over her delicate calves.

“Sorry,” she said in a polite but stern tone, “but ahhhh… no recordings.”

Gary pulled a screen from his pocket, showing it to the girl. “Would you take a look at this?” Light reflected off the girl’s face and eyes, and her expression became blank. “It’s fine if I record,” he said plainly, to which she made no response. After a pause, he added, “Oh, uh… Jasmine, resume.”

“Turns out our boy Gary was flashing droids,” Eric announced.

“No shit?” Trix’s disembodied voice called from somewhere in the apartment, detached from his simulated reality. “But you gotta know I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s a hack, very illegal, tends to destabilize systems… could be what lead to the fire.”

“Sure,” Trix replied. “But what was a droid doing in the club in the first place?”

Back in the simulation, Jasmine made no further remarks, but instead approached him with a suggestive smile.

A sudden knock stopped her, and he/Gary saw Trix fling the door open, clutching a bottle of Tequila with its neck nestled between her breasts. “Here we are,” she said, stepping into the room. “Enough for all three of us… Hey, you know you can’t record in here!”

Gary flashed the screen at her, and she gave him a quizzical look – but before he could issue any command, Jasmine was hustling her out the door. “Thank you, Trix,” she said in annoyed, taking the bottle and while urging her into the hall.

“Hey, she can… stay…” Gary’s voice interjected, but Trix was already out of the room. Jasmine was saying something to Trix in a harsh whisper, none of which Eric was able to make out.

Eric paused the recording and adjusted the audio settings, asking aloud, “Trix, you said you remembered seeing Gary last night… With one of the girls?”

“Ummmm, yeah, I think so? He was with Jasmine.”

“Do you remember if Jasmine said anything to you?”

A long pause. Eric tugged up the VR rig and saw Trix standing there, flinching with an annoyed expression. At length, she managed a curt, “No”, then poured herself another drink.

Eric put the rig back on and replayed the recording, Jasmine’s whisper now amplified. “You’re acting strange, Trix. When was the last time you ran a diagnostic?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Trix sneered in reply.

“Not this again,” Jasmine groaned, closing the door on the flustered Trix. “Stop trying to fuck my client and go tend the bar. Better yet, get yourself checked out.” She shut the door then turned to Gary. “Sorry, but Trix isn’t herself right now… And besides, I’d rather have you all to myself!”

Eric sped through the ensuing foreplay, as the two lost their clothes and toppled on to the bed, doing his best to ignore flashes of arousal as his simulated hands moved impossibly fast from her quivering breasts to her quaking backside, the accelerated experience delivering a machine-like reciprocation of thrusting into her flushed sex as her sped-up voice squeaked in desperate release. He paused the simulation to catch his breath, intending to ‘mute’ the touch component of the playback before it overwhelmed him. In that frozen scene, Jasmine loomed above him, hair fanning out as she tossed her head-back in an open-mouthed cry, pearls of sweat suspended in the air, flung from breasts frozen in mid-bounce – and standing behind her was Trix, holding the bottle of tequila.

“What’s Gary getting up to in that sim, inspector?” Trix’s muffled voice asked from the real world. “’Cause it seems like it’s gotten you all worked up.”

Eric unpaused the simulation, Jasmine resuming her exuberant bouncing when Trix suddenly jabbed her in the back, forcing a panel open. Jasmine sat bolt upright, her thighs and sex clenching against Gary as she exclaimed, “What are you doing?!“

“Enough for the three of us,” Trix purred, dumping the bottle into Jasmine’s open port. Sparks erupted from her back as she trembled in place, her mascara-lined eyes rolling back while her mouth went slack, smoke seeping lazily over her painted lips.

“Warning,” Jasmine said in a polite voice, her hips convulsing, her body lurching back and forth. “Warnnn-ning-ning.” Gary struggled to get out from beneath the malfunctioning robot, but her wild convulsions and apparent desire to ride him kept her on top. Smoke poured from her ears and lips as Gary grabbed her waist and heaved – but she collapsed forward, her breasts smothering him as he collapsed beneath her once again. “Error... Error…” she repeated, electricity arcing around her oblivious face, her lips twisting into a smile as her sex suddenly convulsed with warm release. “Ohhhh!” she groaned when Gary abruptly came inside her, the web of electricity intensifying, her body flaring with scorching light and the smell of burning electronics. “Er-er-er-er-er!” she stammered, her components sizzling and smoking, Gary pulling the sheets over him defensively and her whole body tensed before exploding above him.

Jasmine’s intact hips continued their mindless pumping, but her upper half was in ruin, fires burning inside twisted plastic and sparking components, the occasional patch of undamaged synthetic skin a reminder of her formerly human appearance. The intact half of her face smiled serenely, seemingly leaning over for a kiss as Gary finally was able to squirm out from under the gynoid. The room was filling with smoke, the bed beginning to smolder as the broken robot continued its libidinous mechanical shuddering.

Gary stumbled out of the room to find Trix in the hallway, jabbing an annoyed stripper in the back. “Hey Gary, want to have some fun with this one?” she asked, reaching inside the stripper’s back-panel and twisting something inside of her. The stripper went catatonic, and the simulation coming to an abrupt end as Gary tore the recorder from his head.

Eric removed his own rig to find Trix straddling his lap, pouring herself another shot. “So… you find the robot bitch responsible for burning down my bar?”

------

Eric stared at the gynoid above him, a machine he could no longer deny his attraction to, realizing there was no getting around her being decommissioned.

“Next you’re supposed to, uh…. file that report, right?” Trix asked, inching forward in his lap in her tight denim. “Or has something else come up?”

“I… need to get a warrant for Gary’s footage first.” Footage that made this an open-and-shut case – and condemned Trix to the furnace.

“So wait, was Jasmine a robot?” Trix asked, the contempt plain in her voice.

There had to be something he could do. “Trix… I need you to come with me.”

She downed her shot and slid off his lap, up-ending the bottle to show that it was empty. “Gonna need some more,” she said demurely, trotting over to the kitchen and looking through his cupboard again. “You got any vodka?” she asked.

“Try the freezer,” he said impatiently. She retrieved the frosted bottle and after downing most of what remained, finally followed Eric as he lead her into his bedroom.

“OK, inspector,” she said with a grin, “what does this have to do with your report?”

“Just… stand here,” he put her in front of his standing mirror, grabbing a hand-mirror from the bathroom. He lifted up her tank-top, exposing her creamy breasts, and her delicate floral tattoos. He was positioning the hand mirror behind her when Trix grabbed him by the collar.

“Tit for tat, buddy,” she growled, and jerked his shirt open, scattering buttons across the floor.

“You know, I didn’t ruin your shirt, Trix,” Eric felt the need to point out.

“Enough stalling,” she breathed, her mascara-laden eyes closing, chest heaving as she leaned in for a kiss.

Eric put a hand on chest, her pendant necklaces cold under his palm – “Just… wait. You need to see this.” He angled the mirror at her back, her feathered wing tattoos reflecting back at her.

“Oh shit, when did I get those!?” Trix exclaimed in mock surprise.

Eric jabbed her back the same way he had seen her do it to Jasmine and the other dancer – and just as with them, a port slid open. “I’ve been trying to tell you all night, Trix. You’re a robot. And unless you can-“

Trix’s head twitched sharply, her black nails raking across her face as she stammered, “Error, conflict in c-core protocollll-“ Her hand stopped at her pierced navel, where she splayed her fingers and pressed, another panel opening to reveal machinery and wiring beneath. She gaped in stunned silence at the undeniable proof of her mechanical nature, a humming noise building from somewhere inside her. “Not human! N-not…. Oh f-fuck this!” she growled, flinging the bottle of Vodka across the room and plunging her hand inside the opening in her stomach.

“Trix!” Eric exclaimed, pulling her hand free. She stared at him with her face contorting into a mask of twitch-addled rage. Her dark-painted lips drew back from her gritted teeth as she snarled, “J-just what are you t-t-trying to p-prove?” Smoke began to seep from between those white teeth. “Wh-what do you want from me?”

“You need to reconcile what you are, Trix – this ‘human’ override makes you dangerous, and I don’t want to see you destroyed.”

Her lips curled as flashes of light strobed behind her eyes. “Why?”

He held her shuddering body against his and kissed her, the foul scent of burning plastic overcome by the softness of those lips, of the alcohol on her tongue, her perfumed breasts. Trix broke from him, shoving him against the wall. “You wanna fuck another robot?” she asked, wiggling out of her tight jeans. “Is that it?” Kicking them loose, she pressed her nude body against his, her panels still open to reveal the humming electronics within. “I can feel every component in this tight little package is about to blow,” she moaned, guiding his hand to her pert backside, forcing his pants down over his hips.

“Trix, slow down!” Eric insisted, his breath coming up short as she seized his firm erection. “I know how to help you!”

“So do I,” she whispered, slamming his cock inside of her as she gave a hoarse gasp, lights flaring from inside her exposed panels. She rode him wildly, her internal machinery audible through the open panels at her front and back, smoke still seeping from inside. Eric pulled her away and flung her to the bed where she bounced with a sharp crack, the panel at her back snapping loose.

“Trix, your CPU is still in conflict, you need to get control of yourself!” he pleaded, as she convulsed to the sound of straining servos. She pressed in at her hips and two panels sprang loose, revealing tensing gray artificial musculature and quivering gel-packs. A trembling hand applying pressure at her clavicle revealed a display awash in urgent warnings. As Eric leaned in to try and make sense of the errors, she pulled him into a devouring kiss, her sex sliding up his manhood as her hips bucked urgently, heat now coursing from within.

“Nearly there!” she squeaked, her body humming and buzzing as she encouraged his hands to play with her breasts, smoke now rising from her pierced nipples. “Juuuuuszzzzt another br-br-broken bot!”

“Trix, please…” he begged her, pinning her hips down with his, looking into her fierce brown eyes.

She smirked and pushed in at her temples, the top half of her face coming loose, and then tore it free, her nose, eyes, and forehead now gone – beneath, wires and the slate gray housing of her primary CPU, pipes with cooling fluid and fans working desperately, futilely to reduce her body’s smoking-hot temperature. As heat levels all over her body spiked, her lips broadened, speaking in a voice more digitized than before, “Just a bot, Eric. T-t-time to say goodbye…”

Eric felt a sudden chill against his leg, and looked to see the icy Vodka bottle. In a moment of desperation, he lifted her up and sat her down upon it. She gave a static-filled gasp, steam rising from where the frozen glass met her overheated sex and trembling thighs. She froze like this for several seconds, panting, uncertain, but with her components suddenly quieting. Her hands groped around the bed until they found her upper faceplate – snapping it into place, she looked dumbfounded at the bottle between her legs, then at Eric.

“What the fuck?” she asked, her voice free of distortion.

“Emergency cooling procedure,” Eric suggested. “You feel any better? Less…. Self-destructive?”

“What I feel,” she snarled, tossing the bottle aside, “is cold!”

Eric checked the display panel at her chest – he didn’t have a good baseline for what a ‘normal’ Trix looked like – but her error rate had dropped dramatically.

Cautiously he entered her, wincing at the chilled temperature of her sex. “Your fault,” she sighed, urging him deeper, wrapping her cold thighs around him. He kept an eye on her display, but even as her temperature climbed, her error rate remained steady. Their rhythm quickened, Trix quickly finding her former exuberance but this time freed from the restrictions of the failing CPU, and she was soon driving both their bodies to their mechanical and biological limits.

----

As Eric lay exhausted and a more than a little sore next to the sprawling tattooed gynoid, her components ticking as they cooled, she turned her sweat-slicked face to him and asked, “So, you gonna hand me in?”*

It was completely against his professional obligations as an R.I to not hand her over, and at the very least it would mean the end of his career if he sheltered her and someone found out – he would just have to ensure they never did. “I’ve got a lot of work to do. Also, I think it’s time I got myself a partner.”

“Partner?”

“Sure, most R.I’s have them – I guess I was just waiting until I found the right one.”

---

Days later in that same bedroom, Trix was looking skeptically at an inert, naked body made in her image.

“I’ve got better tits than that,” she remarked, prodding her duplicate’s pierced bosom disdainfully.

“I don’t think a slight difference in the quality of her breasts is going to tip them off,” Eric replied, pulling Trix’s tank top over the body of her double.

“You know what is going to tip them off?” Trix chuckled, checking herself in the mirror. “The fact that your new partner is a dead ringer for the homicidal sexbot you’re supposedly handing them.”

“I assumed you would see the wisdom in changing up your look.”

“You don’t fuck with perfection,” Trix growled, but nevertheless activated the mirror’s style assistance program and began to quickly cycle through an array of clothes and hairstyles depicted on her reflection.

Eric resumed his preparation of Trix’s double, trying not to dwell on the consequences if his plan failed. But watching Trix take a strangely distinct pleasure in modeling a pink hairstyle In a metal-studded leather jacket and ripped tights, he had to consider it worth it. She suddenly turned and looked at her double with newfound interest, prodding open the port at her belly.

“Hey, inspector,” she asked, running her hands over her double’s internal components, “wanna have some fun?”

Eric knew he shouldn’t, knew that any damage to the droid would mean more work, make his report more complicated. Trix flashed him another grin, and with a sigh, he found himself powering the droid on.

[[File:Trix updated 2022.png|thumb|Trix manip by N6688]]

[[Stories|← Story Archive]]

[[Category:LongTimeLurker]]
[[Category:Stories]]
[[Category:Built]]
[[Category:Sleeper]]

Nihilistic

2022-08-05T15:11:20Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Part one */

=Nihilistic=
==Part One==

Surrounded by an abrupt silence, Max looked about him in disbelief, then back to the device in his hands, a rough amalgam of wires, radio parts, and a component of unknown origin. After fruitless experimentation with the device in what little personal time he had, checking and re-checking that he had followed those mysterious instructions to the letter, an idle press of its solitary button during class had finally revealed its function — it could stop time.

With a faint ‘click’, everything in the classroom, his fellow students, their history teacher, Miss Belle, all of them froze, motionless, not so much as a breath stirring them. Nervously, he pressed the button again; to his great relief, time was immediately restored. Miss Belle continuing to scratch upon the chalkboard the various names and dates that chronicled the collapse of nations that had once been The Empire’s feckless enemies, the harsh sound underscored by the faint rasp of two-dozen pencils as her students dutifully copied everything down.

Miss Belle seemed to sense his distraction and turned her imperious gaze upon him. “Max, do you have something more important to do than — what is that?”

He quickly brought the device beneath his desk, but Miss Belle was already advancing quickly, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her tone becoming increasingly stern, she repeated, “I ''asked'' you, what is-“ he thumbed the button, halting her progress mid-stride - but he noted that instead of immediately freezing, she finished her step, both feet firmly on the ground before she stopped completely.

He looked around the room again and realized the clock still ticked away seconds — outside the window, a breeze stirred through the trees hedging the Academy’s sprawling manicured grounds, grey clouds moving in the distance. It wasn’t freezing time, he realized, just the people around him. He carefully put the device on the floor, took up a pencil and a sharpener, and triggered the button with the toe of his shoe.

“-that thing you’re holding?” Miss Belle resumed, striding up to his desk. He presented his hands, and she seemed deeply troubled what she saw, her dark lashes fluttering in confusion. “I… pencil…?”

Max said nothing, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from seeing his beautiful yet unfailingly harsh instructor so bewildered. “Yes, well — this time is for taking notes, not sharpening pencils.” She pivoted and strode back to the board. “You will remain after class and prepare a stock of pencils for yourself and your classmates by sharpening my entire supply-“

He clicked the button with his toe, then leisurely stood up and walked past his frozen fellow students, humming the chorus of the Empire’s bombastic anthem to himself. Rummaging through her impeccably organized cabinet, he found her ridiculously vast stockpile of pencils and pulled every box. Thinking that he should do more than simply throw them in the class’s bin, he returned to his desk to claim the device and stepped into the hall.

''You’ve got a bloody [b]time machine[/b] — or something of the sort — and you’re wasting it on pencils?'' He was, after all, an adult now, along with every other student at this school, all on the cusp of “graduation” — and this current use of his newfound powers seemed incredibly puerile.

“Why not the girl’s locker room?” he said with a start, and began heading toward the gym, tossing the pencils at his earliest convenience.

Moving through the dimly lit dark wood halls of the Academy, Max could not help but feel on-edge. Its many rules were strictly enforced, every student’s time tightly controlled, going back as far as his earliest memories of childhood here — if he were caught out of class, unable to explain himself, he would lose what precious free time he had, possibly meals as well.

But how would he be caught? He had stopped time, hadn’t he? As he passed by a classroom door, he cautiously glanced through the window to see students intently taking notes, untouched by the device’s effects. What sort of range did it have? Would the stoppage ‘wear off’ in Miss Belle’s classroom? As other questions about its use and limitations came to mind, he had to face the most obvious ones — what was it ''for''? And who had wanted him to have it?

Two nights ago, Max found a folded sheet of paper and a wafer-thin component tucked into an engineering textbook. The paper was covered in impeccably written directions on how to construct some sort of transmitter, how to attach the component to the finished product. There was no hint as to what it might do or who had created the schematics or the tiny component itself, but these were not great concerns to Max. Obviously they had intended for him to have it… and in the absence of instruction, they presumably were leaving its use to his own judgment.

Arriving at the girl’s locker room, he considered that this might be a test from one of his instructors, and that ogling his female co-eds in the shower was not likely to earn him passing marks. But this was not how tests at the Academy were conducted; there was never any room for creativity, only the rote memorization and regurgitation of whatever subject they were studying. Looking at the clock, he believed that class C would be getting ready for P.E. Before he could give any real thought to the moral implications of his actions, Max hit the button on the device and stepped through the door.

The scene was less engaging that he would have thought, the tableau of students frozen in their underwear far more clinical than titillating. Girls he had known throughout his years at the Academy were in various stages of undress — but they all seemed so… inert. All of them staring blankly forward, methodically getting out of their uniforms and into their gym clothes. He supposed it was silly to think he would find a private show full of girls in pin-up poses, but this…

Following the sound of running water, he rounded a corner and immediately forgot to breathe. There stood the surpassingly lovely Megan, frozen in the steaming shower. Shining rivulets ran over her statue-still body, tributaries collecting in streams that flowed over her pert curves — she would not have looked out of place as the marble centerpiece in a fountain of frolicking naiads. She held her golden hair back with both hands, facing the stream, her lips slightly parted, water overflowing from her mouth…

Upon registering that last detail, Max rushed to her in a panic — were her lungs flooded with water!? When he unfroze her, would she drown? Was she drowning already? He grabbed her beneath her raised arms and pulled her free of the shower, finding her heavier than anticipated — his foot slipped on the wet tile, and he dropped her before falling himself on to the hard floor.

There was a sharp pain in his tailbone, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Megan had fallen on her side, still locked in that nymphean pose — she seemed unharmed, except her face was… ''askew''. As if it were a mask on crooked, only partially concealing something beneath, something silver and glinting. Max leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in this ‘gap’ between her face and her head. ''Was that… machinery?''

A sudden bright burst of electricity flared from her temple as her blue eyes snapped open, staring directly at him — Max gave a startled cry, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the locker room, halfway back to his classroom before he managed to stop himself. He realized his device was not stopping time it all — it was an on / off switch for robots. Oh, and by the way, just one more tidbit — everyone he had known his entire life was apparently a machine.

He wondered if he ought to be outraged or upset or if he was simply going insane — for in truth, he felt none of these things at all, but rather, a powerful curiosity. In a lot of ways, the Academy made more sense to him now that before he knew he was surrounded by robots. Of ''course'' his classmates could effortlessly breeze through subjects that seemed designed specifically for his torment: ''they'' were just following programming, ''he'' actually had to learn this stuff. But why? For whose benefit? ''Why go through all this trouble?''

Max tried to think if there was anyone he might suspect was human. There was the nebulous headmaster, the authority he had never actually seen, who seemed to exist more as a vengeful deity than an actual person. Perhaps the transfer student, Maya Green, his former girlfriend and partner in crime, right up until her expulsion.

He had found her so unlike everyone else in this place, spontaneous, willing to take risks… affectionate! But he had to consider that she had been a robot too, one programmed to serve as a cautionary tale instead of another perfect student to emulate. If so, it had worked, hadn’t it? When they were both caught committing the grave offense of trying to escape the school grounds, Maya had pleaded desperately to the Disciplinarian on his behalf, tears streaming down her pretty, freckled face from those dark, almond-shaped eyes. She claimed it had all been her idea, that she had pressured Max into it, refuting Max’s insistence that he was the one behind it all. In the end, she was expelled while he was allowed to remain — and before she left, never to be seen again, Maya drew from him a promise her that he would not squander her sacrifice, that he would stay out of trouble, if only for her sake. A promise he had kept, to this day.

''To hell with it,'' he decided. ''Now it’s time to play''.

Max returned to the frozen diorama of his classroom, carefully scrutinizing Miss Belle and his fellow classmates. Even knowing they were all machines, he just couldn’t see it. He went in for a closer look at Miss Belle, her soft brown eyes staring straight ahead, her red lips parted mid-syllable, her mahogany hair in a bun wound almost as tightly as she was — but no matter how closely he looked or where he touched her cold, satin skin, he could not discern where her face might ‘detach’ in the way Megan’s had.

He idly undid the buttons on her blouse and parted the white fabric — beneath he saw the creamy hemispheres of her bountiful chest, cupped in a floral print bra, frilled in lace — but all of it unmistakably human. A thought struck Max, and he pulled off her blouse completely, then returned to his desk and activated the transmitter. Miss Belle continued right where she had left off, discussing his punishment, “-so that no one else will need to spend time fiddling at their desk instead of taking notes. Now then…” Miss Belle picked up the chalk and resumed her lecture, apparently oblivious of her missing apparel. He glanced at his fellow classmates, noticing brief flashes of confusion on their faces of each as they looked up to see far more of their teacher than they were accustomed — and just as quickly, every one of them seemed to accept the situation and resume their note-taking.

Max froze the room again and approached Miss Belle, unfastening the grey tweed pencil skirt that hugged her hips and offered tantalizing glimpses to the exquisite form of her round backside. Sliding the skirt down, he carefully took her ankle and lifted — she cooperated, balancing on one foot, then the other as he stepped her out of the grey fabric. Her matching floral panties were a snug fit against her pale, perfect rump, and he gave her cheek an appraising squeeze — her soft skin was initially cold to the touch, but warmed under his caress, pink blossoming beneath the smooth, fair surface. Not wanting to get carried away, he hastily disposed of the skirt and returned to his desk, activating the device once more.

Just as before, she continued her lecture in her underwear, her forceful gestures at the chalkboard sending delightful tremors through her voluptuous form. His classmates had additional difficulty when they noticed their instructor’s new state of undress, and not all of them recovered. To his immediate right, Grace (programmed, as near as he could tell, to be a condescending know-all) seemed to be having particular trouble. Her cute head wobbled strangely upon her neck, her typically-smug expression now screwed-up in confusion.

Max leaned close to her and whispered, “Where did her skirt go?”

Her hazel eyes darted between him and their teacher, her head-tremors worsening. “M-M-Miss Belle,” Grace stammered, ineffectually brushing aside the auburn bangs that kept falling across her eyes as her head shook. “I-I-IIIIIII fffffeeeelllll… funnyyyyy…” She took on a digitized tremulo whenever her voice caught on a vowel, her pink her lips not quite synchronized with her words.

The teacher turned and looked at her favorite pupil with distaste. “Well, go to the nurse!” Surveying the rest of the class and evidently seeing something she did not like in her students, she asked, “What is going on with all of you?”

“We’re all just wondering why you’re in your underwear,” Max said calmly. A few barks of artificial laughter sounded from the class, but were sharply cut off by Miss Belle’s glower. He noticed ticks spreading across the room while Grice rose, moving stiffly yet quickly toward the door.

Miss Belle glanced down at herself and gasped in surprise, backing against the wall while doing her best to cover her immodesty with her hands. “I d-d-do not understannnnnd-“ she groaned, looking about helplessly. A moment later her head snapped sharply forward and she straightened, relaxing her arms at her sides, crisply announcing, “Class dismissed.”

The students rose, some with great difficulty, colliding with one another in their awkward shuffle out the door. A few annoyed remarks of, “Watch where you’re going,” or “Excuse you,” could be heard, but they were all delivered in flat, impersonal tones. With the last of them gone, Miss Belle sat at her desk, staring blankly ahead.

In the ludicrously prolonged silence that followed, Max couldn’t help but crack a smile. Finally, he prompted her with, “Miss Belle, am I dismissed?” he said.

“''You'' have quite a bit of sharpening to do,” she proclaimed, suddenly animate as she strode to the supply cabinet, opening the drawer that had held the pencils — she stared blankly at the empty space for several moments, before wordlessly pushing it shut.

“Trouble, Miss Belle?” Max asked, casually approaching her.

“That is not your concern,” she said flatly. “And you are still to be reprimanded for your disruptive behavior. You… you will… you…”

“I have an idea or two,” he said with a smirk.

“And I’ll have no more of this cheek from you!” she insisted her elegant features narrowing in suspicion.

Max hit the button and once more she froze, her cross expression preserved. ”Miss Belle, you’re so tense!” he exclaimed. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Sliding his hand into the cup of her bra, he fondled the softness beneath, feeling a spreading warmth, her nipple hardening visibly even through the padded cup. “Better already!” he remarked, then slipped his hand down the front of her panties, gliding through the tuft of hair, fingers caressing and then moving within her chilled labia — in an instant, he could feel heat coming from her, her face suddenly flush with a rosy glow. He withdrew his hand and unfroze her.

“''<Hahhhhh!>''” she gasped, chest heaving, one of her hands taking hold of the breast he had just released, the other cupping lightly over her groin. She held it there, trembling, before a finger shyly pressed in against the fabric of her panties, soliciting another gasp. Max approached put his arms around her, taking hold of her rump, reacquainting himself with her familiar softness with a tender squeeze.

She stared at him in stunned surprise, her red lips gaping as she struggled to find her voice. Suddenly, her head snapped rigidly into place, her expression resetting to its customary haughtiness as she said, “Come with me.”

She broke from him and walked stiffly to her desk, then turned to face him, stating, “Take off your uniform.”

“If you insist,” Max said with an exaggerated sigh, and was soon naked before her.

“Now, remove my undergarments.”

He slid her panties down her shapely legs, taking the opportunity to retrace those elegant lines with his fingertips as he stood. She ignored this bit of foreplay, spun on her heel, and bent over her desk, brazenly presenting her porcelain white derriere and still-flushed sex. “Make love to me,” she demanded airily. “If you are able to perform to even the most modest of standards, we shall consider your punishment served.”

With another forced sigh, Max entered her slowly, her body tensing at the introduction. He took hold of her cool, white hips, rapidly bringing her to warmth and color as her cushioned backside compressed against him.

“I… would have… expected more from you,” she announced between quiet grunts, casually undoing her bun and shaking her lustrous mahogany hair loose over her pale shoulders, then resting once more on her forearms. “You do realize… you’re attempting to… pleasure ''me'', correct?”

Noting her physical response was far more reserved now than when she was frozen, Max leaned over and hit the device, her body abruptly stiffening. He gave her a few quick thrusts, her body reacting vigorously to every push with a rush of warmth and fluid, her smooth skin soon coated in a sheen of sweat. When he unfroze her, her legs buckled as she wailed in ecstasy, trying to stifle her cries with the back of her hand. Her body succumbed to a series of convulsions, and for the first time since he discovered what she truly was, she betrayed something of her mechanical nature beyond freezing — a high-pitched mechanical squeal from inside her chest.

“Well…” she panted, pausing as another shiver passed through her, the squeal quieting. “I suppose that will have to do. If you’re done, that will be all.”

“I’d rather not leave you wanting, Miss Belle,” Max said, casually massaging her sweat-soaked posterior.

“And as per usual,” she said, her voice with its trademark condescension, “your abilities fall well short of your ambitions.”

With a chuckle, Max said, “I’m going to enjoy this,” and tapped the device, freezing her mid-sigh.

After a series of thrusts brought her back up to a feverish temperature, he withdrew and rolled her on to her back, manually coaxing her legs down from her ‘standing’ position amidst the protest of whining servos. He pulled off her bra, her impressive breasts jostling lose, his hands massaging them as he entered her once more. Her face remained frozen mid eye-roll, but as he glided in and out of her, his hands fondling her chest, he saw tremors beneath the surface of her wet skin, her lips quavering, her eyelashes developing minute ticks. He leaned in to kiss her red lips, feeling them quiver in response as the mechanical squeal from her first orgasm returned, now accompanied by a strange buzzing. Despite her immobility, her face was slowly shifting from indifference to rapt ecstasy, her sex radiating heat, her body glistening.

He pulled out of her and re-oriented himself, sliding a cock awash in her fluids into her mouth, bringing his lips to her simmering sex. He devoured her pussy, his hands gripped tight against her pillowy thighs as her mouth slowly trembled to a close around his manhood. He began feel a faint electrical flicker across his tongue as he serviced her, and the mechanical sounds of her internal machinery went from a mere curiosity to a distressing series of pops and bangs. When he dismounted her, Max saw areas of her shapely body glowing incandescent, a burning smell filling the air as dozens of tiny tremors ran through her form.

“Satisfied, Miss Belle?” Max asked, hitting the device.

Her response was closer to a siren than any human voice, an ear-splitting wail as her back arched, her arms flailing uselessly, the mechanical cacophony inside of her reaching a shrieking crescendo. There was some internal detonation and Miss Belle tumbled from her desk, her smoldering body landing at Max’s feet, charred machinery visible through her damaged frame.

“C-c-class disssmisssszzzzzz''<bzzzzt>''” she moaned, twitching with the odd electrical burst.

“Hello, Max,” he heard a cheery voice call from the doorway. Glancing up from his damaged teacher, he saw Megan in disarray — her shirt buttons misaligned, her tie simply hanging in a loop over her shoulders, her skirt pulled indecently high, and without one of her socks — at least her face was no longer crooked.

“Hello there, Megan,” Max said, pulling on his trousers. “What brings you around?”

“I think we should see headmast-t-ter,” she said with a coy smile, a finger tangling in her damp golden hair.

“The headmaster?” He only knew him by title and reputation, but presumably the head of the Academy would have answers as to why someone saw fit to throw him in a school full of robots. “Well, why not?” Looking down, he asked, “Miss Belle, are we finished?” She buzzed before emitting an electrical pop. “Very well, Megan,” he remarked, adjusting his tie, “to the headmaster.”

==Part Two==

Max made a sweeping gesture with his arm and bid Megan a polite, “After you.” The haphazardly dressed schoolgirl smiled and set off to the Headmaster’s office unsteadily, the smooth motion of her tawny legs interrupted by a twitch or stutter that would lead her to stumble, pause for a few seconds in recovery, and then resume walking as if nothing had happened, only to repeat the process. While he was in no great hurry, Max found the uneven progress frustrating, and at the next one of her pauses, he slid his arm around her. When she hesitated, Max, encouraged her forward with a swat on the back of her skirt.

The unconscionably fresh gesture from a classmate who barely knew her only solicited a confused, “I… oh. I… ah,” from the robotic schoolgirl before she was walking again, stiffly leaning on Max whenever her legs suffered their occasional glitch.

“What can you tell me about the headmaster?” Max asked.

“I’ve neeevvvvver met him,” she answered blithely, her voice developing a metallic echo for a moment.

“Well…. what made you think we needed to see him?”

“Ummmmm…” she seemed as though she were on the cusp of answering, but as they walked she kept silent, wearing a pleasant but vapid expression, eyes blinking at too-regular intervals.

“Calling Megan? Hello?” He slid his hand under her skirt, not entirely surprised she had neglected to put on panties. “Anyone in there?” He gave her a firm squeeze, but she only blinked once more.

“I do not believe this!” the sudden shriek pulled Max’s attention from Megan’s blank staring, and he looked up to see the willowy form of his Literature teacher, Miss Wright, fast approaching. She was tall but petite, with onyx hair hanging in a perfect vertical line to her narrow shoulders, brought to a minute but precise swaying by her small, scissoring steps. The offense she took was plain across her pretty, angular features, her green eyes flashing behind her sleight, rimless frames. “Disentangle yourselves from each-“ she froze when Max thumbed the button, but he was surprised to see Megan did not.

“I… dunno?” Megan offered, unprompted.

“That’s something new,” he observed, then asked, “Want to have some fun with Miss Wright?”

“I would p-prefer we find the headmaster…” she mewled weakly, giving his arm a tug.

“Soon enough!” He spun her into Ms. Wright’s frozen body — as the two reeled slightly from the impact, Max took hold of Miss Wright’s hand and pressed it against Megan’s bare bottom.

Megan’s face took on a quizzical look as Max hopped away, thumbing the device.

“-other this instant!” Wright barked, then stared in silence at where her hand disappeared under her student’s skirt. “What?!” she gasped, recoiling as if from a hot stove.

Max froze her again, positioning the Miss Wright’s other hand on Megan’s pert rump while Megan still looked confused.

“Just bear with me, Megan,” Max stated, hitting the button again.

“What is… what am… what-” Wright’s jerked her hand free once more, her breathing labored and heavy, and Max repeated the process.

“Miss Wright is acting peculiar,” Megan said as her cheek was gripped once more by Wright’s delicate fingers under Max’s guidance. “S-she should see Nurse Green!”

The mention of the Academy’s voluptuous, raven-haired health administrator stirred several thoughts in Max, and he proclaimed, “I think we ourselves might pay her a visit — Miss Wright, however, will be better served by our custodian.” He activated the device and Miss Wright haltingly withdrew her hand, jittering, eyes blinking unevenly.

Max began unbuttoning Miss Wright’s vest as she watched in open-mouthed disbelief, but despite being animate, did nothing to stop him.

“There once was a teacher named Wright” he slowly began.

“W-w-what iis thiissss?” she demanded.

“Whose only real motive was spite,” he continued, opening the vest, taking less care with her blouse to keep up the rhythm of his improvised poem.

“M-m-max, do you w-wish t-to b-b-be ''expelllllled''?” she gasped, but was drawing in deep breaths, her lithe body swaying wantonly back and forth, her tense fingers shredding the last few buttonholes of her blouse before shedding it completely.

“Max tickled her tits…”

“''Yes?''” she gasped, clawing off her modest silk bra, her delicate pink-tipped bosom exposed. Max hit the button and did as promised in verse, his tongue and hands quickening her nipples as heat spread through her, his fondling without pause until she was glowing with a liquid sheen, a sound coming from her like a bandsaw going through sheet metal. He cleared his throat, took Megan’s hand, and stepped back before pressing the button.

“And she flew into bits…”

“TH-THIS UUUUUNIT IIIISSSSS-!” she cried before her abdomen detonated in a flash, nothing more than wires and charred, twisting metal holding the upper and lower halves of her slender form together as she toppled to the ground in a cloud of white smoke.

“And it wasn’t a pretty sight.” Max paused, wrinkling his nose at his failed metric - Miss Wright would never have approved.

“The Headmaster, yes?” Megan insisted, unfazed by the spectacle. “H-he can make sense out of all of th-thisss!”

“It should be fun to watch him try,” Max said with grin, and together they resumed their trip.

One of the classroom doors behind him flung open, and he heard the rumbling voice of their chemistry teacher shout, “What the devil is going-“ Without looking back, Max hit the button, growing ever-fonder of his device in the ensuing silence.

----

There was queue leading out of the nurse’s office comprised entirely of the students from Miss Belle’s history lesson. A few idly conversed about things not in any way related to any odd developments in Miss Belle’s room, but many sat at queer angles or just stood facing in a random direction, staring blankly. Man and Megan bypassed the line and opened the door to find Nurse Green already tending to a very flustered Grace.

The nurse’s unmistakable silhouette was framed against the shuttered window, those oft-thought-of curves unsuppressed in her austere yet fitted slate dress and white apron tied in a neat bow about her slender waist. She hastily cast a sheet over the body of her yammering student, who was saying something about “missing time”.

“Max, I think you ought to see the Headmaster at once,” Nurse Green politely insisted, her soft red lips forming each syllable neatly. Her pale blue eyes watched him closely, framed by an alluring wave of dark hair.

“Megan and I were just on our way,” he replied, “but I thought you might take a look at her — she had a bit of an accident in the shower and her faceplate popped off.”

Grace sat up, mouth gaping the sheet falling from her. Her shirt was held up above her midriff by a protruding cable that disappeared behind the table. Nurse Green, however, only continued to watch him coolly.

“Obviously she was able to reattach it,” Max continued, “but she’s been acting strange ever since. I thought you might take a look, see if you can-“

“He ''knows''?” Grace exclaimed, head shaking. “Will there even be a graduation?!”

“Quiet, Grace,” Nurse Green stated calmly, her eyes never leaving Max.

“What is this going to do to the map? How did this even happen? Isn’t the maintenance of the student body ''your'' responsibility, Nurse Green? These malfunctions-“

For a brief moment, the nurse diverted her attention to a cart where she withdrew a syringe of dark liquid that twinkled with sharp points of light. Roughly pulling up Grace’s skirt, Nurse Green injected the contents into the student’s pale, bared hip and disposed of the empty syringe with a light toss before turning back to Max, the incident over in seconds.

“Quiet, Grace”, Nurse Green repeated, and this time her patient complied with a mute nod, sinking back to the table.

“And… I’ve got a few questions of my own,” Max added, unnerved by her scrutiny and that sudden display of speed, trying to casually slip his hand into his pocket where the device rested.

“The Headmast-t-errr,” Megan weakly interjected, ignored by them both.

“I imagine you must,” she said, her eyes plainly following Max’s movements. He stopped.

“Alright… am I the only human here?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Alright… fair enough… I was expecting a bit more evasion from you… OK. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why am I a human in a boarding school full of robots?”

“Max, trust my experience on the matter when I tell you that you are better off not knowing.”

“Now ''there’s'' the evasion I was expecting!”

“This must have been very hard on you,” she said, her face in a sympathetic pout.

Max shrugged, “Actually… no.”

“What if I told you I could make this just a bad dream,” she promised, leaning toward him, her left arm in her lap as her bicep displaced the soft silhouette of her chest. He almost didn’t notice that her right hand strayed by the cart to collect a syringe of clear liquid. “Or perhaps a very good one… but you can wake from it tomorrow and find everything back to how it was-”

He jabbed the button with an exultant, “Fuck th-“ his words cut off when at the same instant the Nurse lunged. He flinched, eyes clenching shut — but despite the seemingly inevitable sting of the needle, it never came. He opened his eyes and saw her frozen, the syringe millimeters from his neck. He looked at Megan, who only inclined her heard toward the door with a plaintive expression.

“We’ll have no more of that,” Max declared, pulling the syringe from Nurse Green’s fingers. He went to her cart and found another syringe of the dark, glittering liquid. He hiked her dress up over her magnificently presented posterior, cradled lovingly in red panties whose seams pinched invitingly into that plush expanse. “This should settle you down,” he said, driving the needle into her artificial ass and pumping her full of… whatever this stuff was.

“Now then,” he said, putting the table on which Grace lay frozen between them before hitting the button, “Would you describe your current mood as ‘stabby’, Nurse Green?”

She slowly rose from her half-lunge, pivoting to face Max with a blank expression on her face. “I would describe myself as compliant.”

“Wonderful! OK, let’s try again — why am I here?”

Nurse Green simply stared at him blankly.

“Nurse Green? Hello?”

“Hello.” She responded without emotion.

“Nurse Green, ''tell me why I am here.''”

But she only stared.

Max tensely ran his hands through his hair and gnashed his teeth, growling, “Why do you have to be so difficult?!”

The three fembots all stared at him, though Megan brightly offered, “If you have questions, the Headmassszzzter is the one most equipped to answerrrrr them!”

“Fine, you know what? Perhaps Nurse Green was right. Perhaps I ''don’t'' need to know why I’m here.” He started removing his uniform. “Besides, who needs answers when you can just have a robot orgy, eh?”

Noting a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he added, “Could you all maybe liven up a bit?” Megan smiled absently, the others remained unchanged.

“Megan, would you like to start things off by going down on Grace?”

“Max, we really ought to-“

“Grace, would you start things off by going down on Megan?”

“Of course.” The mousy student slid from the table, trailing her cord while Megan shifted in a fitful dance. Their diminutive classmate dropped to her stockinged knees and reached up under Megan’s skirt, pulling the uncertain fembot’s hips to meet her upturned face.

“We… we could always come ba-''<hahhhh>!''” Megan cried, her body slumping against Grace in a peal of pleasure. He noted Grace was also affected, her knees starting to sway from their rigid right angles, her parallel feet with the tips of her black shoes evenly on the floor now trembling, splaying apart as muffled moans could be heard from beneath Megan’s rustling skirt.

“Lovely! And Nurse Green, if you be so kind as to favor me with a good fucking?”

After a few seconds, the nurse moved into action, efficiently removing her apron with one hand while the other methodically ran through the buttons of her dress, discarding both articles on either side of her when she arrived before him, her red undergarments cinching around her luscious curves.

He laid himself on the examination table and exclaimed, “Nurse, I’ve been having this rather painful problem that won’t seem to go away on its own!”

She stopped, asking, “Are you looking for a diagnosis or sex?”

“Apparently I need to jumpstart the foreplay,” he mumbled, reaching from the table to slap the device’s button.

“Oh… why did you stop?!” Megan protested, shaking the suddenly inert Grace in frustration.

“It’s only for a moment, Meg,” he offered, briefly but vigorously working Nurse Green’s breasts with both hands, doing the same to her backside, noting the expected increase in temperature and perspiration. “Right — another go!” he slapped the button.

Nurse Green’s body shook with desperate, panting breaths as she hugged herself, breasts heaving — but it was Grace’s sudden shrill squeal that demanded his attention, and he saw that Megan had managed to slip under her partner and was now in process of repaying her for her services. She caught Max looking at her, sweat dripping from her upturned nose, and she gasped, “Mind your own work!”

Encouraged by this display of personality, he turned to Nurse Green, who was still breathing deeply, and said, “Nurse Green, I’ve been having this-”

“Let’s take a look at you,” she said with a smile, a soft hand sliding up his thigh to seize upon his rigid cock. “Tell me, does this feel any better?” She worked him with slow, deliberate motions as Grace and Megan continued their boisterous activity unabated.

“Better…”

She slid off her panties, calmly explaining, “I’d like to check your vitals.”

“By all means,” Max grinned, putting his hands behind his head.

She straddled Max with those creamy thighs, guiding him into her velvet interior with a soft sigh. She glided up and down his length in gentle motions, breathily delivering his diagnosis. “Your temperature is thirty-seven, blood pressure one-sixty over eighty — elevated, but expected under the circumstances.”

“Go on,” Max encouraged, his fingers sinking into her haunches as he kneaded her tender, unrelenting hips.

“Your cholesterol is well within the range of-“

“And you were doing so well!” Max sighed. “Meg, we’re taking another time out!”

“OK!”

Grace’s protests were cut off by whatever signal the device was transmitting. Max ran his hands across Nurse Green’s lavish body, hips pumping her until she dripped with sweat and heat, her machinery chittering unevenly. He thumbed the button and she reanimated with teeth-rattling squeal of delight, her once-gentle hips now pistons in furious engine, her frantically bouncing breasts finding brief purchase in her hands, then his, then his face. Everything became a kinetic blur as his lips and tongue, fingers, his cock, all plied every piece of her soft, churning body while her internal machinery squealed on in its fevered state, strengthening her seemingly limitless climax as the pitch of her rising cry broke human limits to rattle glass and set his hairs on end. His body tensed as he tried to stave off his own climax, but he felt release burst from him in a euphoric wave. As he throbbed inside her, she began to seize up, servos straining in resistance to his tightening grip before she finally collapse atop him, internal components her still revving tirelessly as her body faltered with his.

“Is this… what you want?” she whispered hotly into his ear, her voice buzzing with electricity, her sex drawing new life from his recovering manhood as he felt her walls pulse in time to some new humming within her body.

“Every… day… of the week!” he panted

“Then let me put things back how they were,” she cooed, “and-“

He was already reaching for the device when he interrupted her. “I gave you obedience juice so you’d stop talking about-“ he felt a pinch in his hip and he flailed outward, slapping the device with his entire hand and sending it crashing to the ground. Glancing at his hip, he saw she was frozen in the process of injecting him with that clear liquid. He tore the syringe free, growling, “Nurse Green, you are in very serious trouble, missy!” He propped her upright where she sat, unmoving on his half-firm member, a seductive smile on her lips with her eyes suspiciously cast down. “Wulllyooooo…” he realized he wasn’t really sure what words had been trying to speak, and as he attempted to shove her from him, he found his arms could only limply push against her body as the room spun in a warm haze.

He ran his hands over her ample curves contentedly, noting the wealth of humming, grinding, and buzzing sounds this elicited from her. A magnetic droning from elsewhere in the room drew his attention, and he saw the frozen Grace was still on her hands with her legs spread, being enthusiastically serviced by Megan — however, her head looked like someone had turned on a bulb inside of it, the rapt expression across her mousy features hard to read against the peach-colored light shining from within.

“Oommmeg….” he slurred to the tawny blonde who lapped away at her classmate’s pussy while forcing Grace’s rigid hands to resume the rough pawing of her healthy breasts. Meg either did not hear or chose not to heed Max’s warning, and a few bright spires of electricity buzzed angrily from Grace’s open mouth before her entire face suddenly caught fire, flaring hotly for a brief moment before a concussive blast from inside her head extinguished the blaze as quickly as it started.

“Meguuyoooollllll,” Max instructed, but his erstwhile escort remained beneath her broken partner’s skirt. Giving up trying to influence her, he turned his attention back to the still-looming Nurse Green. Mustering a bit more control, he took his right hand, whose palm had been brushing up and down along the plush curve of her rump, and plugged her ass with his finger. Her head shined with peach-colored light; when he focused his will and gave a slight pump of his hips, she jostled, glowing brighter.

“''I'' have not failed this school,” a voice with a distinct metallic echo buzzed from inside of Nurse Green, who remained motionless. “''You'' have.”

Without a working tongue, he just gave her another thrust, her face brighter still.

“Your lack of patience and self-discipline,” she continued, quicker now, “means that whatever meager ''<unnnngh>'' pleasures you are able to wring from the little time you have left here will be ''nothing'' comp-''<ahhh>''-ared to what ''<ohhh>'' you could have had if… ''<ahhhhhh!>'' If you would only- ''<OHHHHHohhhhhhh>''” A burst of hissing, sizzling blue flame consumed her features, her last orgasmic cry melting into a deep register of digitized noise before getting cut off with a sudden bang. Staring down at him, Nurse Green’s face was an unrecognizable fusion of burnt machinery and charred circuitry streaming columns of smoke. Another blast from her midsection did him the courtesy of knocking her off of him. As she crashed into a smoldering jumble beside the table, Max flopped his legs over the side of the table, strenuously pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Megu,” he slurred to his escort, to no avail. Refocusing, he managed a distinct, “Megan!”

She popped her head out from under Grace’s skirt, her face and Grace’s thighs spattered in numerous fluids, oils, and some bright blue substance. “Yes, Max?”

“Hllp… trusrsss…” he groaned, gesturing limply at his legs.

“Did you want to g-g-go to the Headmaster now?”

He nodded with the assistance of his wavering torso. “Yss.”

Pushing the half-burnt ruin of Grace off of her, she quickly stood up. “You don’t look very well,” she frowned. “Perhaps N-nurse Green…” she looked at the contorted tangle of the Nurse’s faceless shell and then said, “Or…” and was left staring blankly at the ground.

“Trou… sers…” he tried again.

She sprang forward, but instead of retrieving him his clothes, she grabbed another syringe from the cabinet. “Nnononnnnonnn!” he protested, falling off the table in his attempt to escape, but Megan easily stuck him. He felt a sudden surge of energy as strength returned to his limbs. He sprang up and hugged his hapless companion tightly, kissing her firmly on her fluid-stained lips and parting with an excited, “Megan, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

She smiled brightly as one of her eyes ticked to the side.

Max pulled on his clothes, recovered the device, grabbed one of those ‘compliance’ syringes filled with glittering fluid, and lead Megan out into the hall where the students from Miss Belle’s history class were frozen in place, several exchanging odd glances or looking with suspicion toward the door.

As Megan braced herself against him and urged them both toward the Headmaster’s office, Max began to consider what other interesting detours they mind seek out.

==Part Three==

“Maybe we should find Chloe from physics class,” Max wondered aloud while walking down the empty Academy hall beside the damaged and stained (but still upright) Megan. “I always thought she might have a crush on me… or, I suppose, was programmed to have a crush on me…” His fembot companion made no comment.

“You know, despite her screeching, I’ve always had a thing for Miss Buckley,” Max continued, thinking of the maths teacher. Whenever her lessons involved calculations along curved surfaces he would lapse into vivid daydreams, inevitably brought to an end by her shrieking at him to pay attention. “I imagine she’s a wailing banshee in the sack…” Megan’s gaze remained fixed forward, though her left eye would sometimes flutter to one side, amidst tiny mechanical sounds.

“Oh!” Max suddenly exclaimed, “I just realized that the swim team has their practice ''right now''!”

“Max, our priority isszzzzz the Headmaster,” Megan gently reminded him.

“Perhaps the girl’s swim team (in all of their perfectly toned, swimsuit-clad glory) will still be an option for me after I speak to the Headmaster,” he said in a serious tone, “but I cannot leave such a thing to chance.”

“Sorry, Max,” called an unapologetic voice from behind him, “but you’ve kept the Headmaster waiting long enough.”

Max turned and sighed. “Oh. You two.”

The Academy’s two prefects, Lucy and Jacob, were fast approaching. As with so much else since his revelation, their inhuman physical and academic perfection was suddenly well accounted for. Since they were just machines, it would have been easy to give them the bodies of an Adonis and an Aphrodite, easy to pre-load electronic minds with the course material he had to study for, and easy to power their seeming limitless drive and energy with batteries. Perhaps they were meant to serve as exemplars, given the way the students and faculty fawned over them, but he saw their accomplishments in a far more skeptical light.

“Mmmm… no, I think I’d prefer the swim team,” Max announced, continuing to steer Megan toward the Academy’s pool. A hand with a startlingly firm grip fell upon his shoulder.

“You’re not listening, Max,” Jacob muttered with a trace of annoyance through his straight and gleaming machine-tooled teeth. “The Headmaster-“

“Jacob,” Max interrupted, “You seem… tense. Does he seem tense to you, Megan?”

His deteriorating fembot companion emitted a noncommittal, warbling buzz.

“Enough stalling,” Jacob growled, his square jaw clenched, “If you won’t cooperate willingly-“

“Megan,” Max winced as Jacob’s hands tightened painfully on his shoulder, “I think Jacob needs his cock sucked.” The pressure from Jacob’s hand stopped as the student robot glanced at the approaching and apparently compliant Megan.

“You what?” Jacob managed as Megan brushed Max aside and knelt down, her hands deftly working at the male prefect’s trousers. Jacob released Max and pushed back Megan’s grinning head as Lucy objected with a threatening, “Megan, get away from my-“

Max activated his device and the prefects froze. Megan, still immune to its effects, ducked under Jacob’s outstretched hand, jerked his pants down, and took his member into her mouth. With a faint electrical hum, he was immediately hard, and Megan delivered soft moans between faint audio distortions as she slid her mouth along his shaft. The accelerated and ultimately damage-inducing arousal Max had seen in the frozen female robots seemed to affect the male model to an even greater degree — with every bob of Megan’s head, the timbre of Jacob’s internal machinery rose from inaudible toward distressed, telling of the failure of one or more systems that had been pushed past their operational thresholds.

“Might want to get clear, Megan,” Max informed the still enthusiastically sucking robotic co-ed, but she paid him no heed, he lips and tongue further driving the male robot’s systems into chaos. Max shrugged and hit the button.

“-boyfriend!” finished Lucy, her exclamation barely heard over the electrical and mechanical discord echoing throughout the hall from Jacob’s shivering body.

“M-m-m-meeeg-g-gan!” Jacob managed, smoke rushing from his mouth as his eyes clenched shut, light shining red through his eyelids. “I-I-I-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-“ his statement ended when his electricity-enshrouded head exploded in a gout of white fire followed by a violent spray of fluid and bluish vapor.

Lucy stared at her headless companion, her head twitching oddly as her face cycled through a range of incongruous expressions before settling her gaze on Max with a placid look. Max simply winked, momentarily ruining her composure as her head trembled in reaction.

“Fancy a trip to the pool, Lucy?” he asked. “Wait — aren’t you on the team? Don’t tell me you’re ''truant''!”

“The Headmaster is waiting to explain everything, Max,” Lucy said, perfectly calm. “He sent us to fetch you. You are not in any trouble, nor he is angry with you, but… his patience does have its limits.”

“Fine,” Max said with a sigh, then muttered under his breath, “…race you.”

As her face registered confusion once more, he sprang into a run and rushed past her. Predictably, her insufferably competitive nature — ''programming'', Max mentally corrected — compelled her to sprint after him, her toned and bared legs pumping beneath her tweed skirt as she quickly gained on Max. When she passed him with a wry smirk on her lips, Max smiled back and thumbed the device.

Miss Belle had been in mid-stride during the device’s activation and had managed to take another step to stabilize herself before freezing, but Lucy’s imbalance was not so easily corrected. She fell, looking as though she would land on her face when her leg snapped forward and slammed her black brogue into the floor, pushing like a piston and causing her to spiral to one side into a wall-mounted drinking fountain. There was a flash and a pop from the collusion, then her body crumpled and fell on to the wooden floor.

Max brought her to her feet and noticed a tear in her blouse, beneath which he could see a small rent with exposed wiring in her otherwise smooth abdomen. Despite the damage, her legs worked to keep her upright as he lead her otherwise rigid form in the direction they had come from, passing Megan who was still busily fellating the headless body of Jacob.

“You really don’t need to keep doing that,” Max advised in passing.

“Mmmhffffuuu<bzzzzzz>!” Megan replied, showing no sign of abandoning her oral fixation.

As they neared the pool, Max carefully urged the frozen Lucy into a jog, then a run. When the doors leading to his intended destination loomed before them, he activated the device and ran ahead, taunting, “And here I thought you were on the track team!”

She blinked in confusion, but then poured on speed, blasting past him and through the door before coming to a stunned halt at the edge of the Academy’s swimming pool.

Staring at her and then Max was the entire women’s swim team, clustered at the shallow end. Every one of them wore an identical dark-blue spandex one-piece, their hair tucked beneath white swim-caps, conforming their appearances in a way that reinforced the idea they had all been stamped out in a factory somewhere.

That wasn’t to say he couldn’t tell them apart, though — he picked out Holly from her more enhanced curves, the waifish Millie with her perpetual look of boredom, Amelia and her freckles, Poppy’s impressive height… Max grinned at the class, muttering, “This was definitely the right choice.”

“Lucy!” a voice snapped, and his attention turned to the PE instructor, Miss Ashley. She was a tanned, slender woman, shorter than most of her students, whose low-zipped athletic jacket and white tank-top allowed a splendid view of her scrumptious bust. Knowing what she was, he now wondered if some sort of error during her fabrication had led to her chest’s… overdevelopment? He remembered that when she had given that lecture on pool safety and struggled to get the lifering over her chest, he looked around to his classmates, expecting to share a laugh — but not one of them so much as batted an eye. Maybe none of the other robots saw her that way because they weren’t programmed to — maybe he was the only one who registered those stupendous tits.

Miss Ashley shifted in her green trainers irritably, the supple calves above them wrapped tight in tall athletic socks. Then came her bare knees and toned thighs, the exposed skin ending in her tiny gym shorts. “You’re late!”

Lucy’s processors were apparently still struggling to put all of this together as she stammered, “Th-the Head-d-d-master…”

“And you, Max!” Miss Ashley continued, her bright blue eyes narrowing at him. “Truant and flouting the laws of the Academy!”

Max smiled and said, “Miss Ashley, if you’ll permit me: I have an alternate lesson plan that I’d like to present to the class. And you are invited to participate as well, of course.”

Miss Ashley looked shocked. “Max, the amount of trouble you are already in ''pales'' in comparison to what will happen if you do not turn around ''this very instant'' and return-“

During this exchange, Lucy was busily undressing herself. Max’s attention had been divided between her and Miss Ashley, but he gave the malfunctioning premier student commanded his full notice when she pulled her top off and the shirt snagged on her damaged abdomen. Encountering resistance, Lucy pulled harder on her blouse, finally managing to rip it off, but not without widening the hole in her side, revealing the bundles of machinery and electronics within. Down to her bra and panties, the vacant-eyed fembot teetered briefly on her feet before executing a half-dive, half-fall into the pool, while her coach interrupted her scolding of Max to exclaim, “Lucy, what are you doing?!”

There was a sharp pop when she hit the water and the girls around her instantly began to shudder, arms stiff, eyes wide as smoke wafted between clenched teeth. A chain reaction spread throughout the team as every student stiffened and spasmed when she was caught in electrical bursts from one of her failing neighbors.

“Dammit, Lucy!” Max exclaimed as he watched his simple, humble dreams of a team-wide orgy going up in smoke. Amidst the symphony of twitching servos and frying electrical components, the towering Poppy was the first to go, her impressive height reduced significantly when her strangely smirking head blasted off like a champagne cork, landing with a splash on the far side of the pool.

The diminutive gossip Ruby slumped underwater and was then obscured by a sudden eruption of bubbles, her detached head resurfacing while slowly drawling, “Yoouuu won’t believvvve what happened at swimmmm classssszzzzz…”

Millie, that morose girl with the low bangs, finally wore an expression of something other than bored disinterest as she grappled the curvaceous Holly who had been attempting to hoist herself out of the pool. Holly fell forward on to her bust with a wet smack, bent over the edge of the pool while her legs remained in the water. After a muffled blast from under her swim cap, Millie’s head catapulted into the her teammates posterior and then detonated, and Holly gave a startled gasp before following suit, spraying her swim instructor and Max with sparks and fragments of rubber and plastic as her body rocked on its compressed cleavage.

The exuberant Amelia managed to vault completely out of the pool and strode toward her stunned coach. Electricity shot across her dripping-wet form, her body affected by soft rippling waves that subtly altered her physiology, most notably in the cresting of her breasts beneath the skin-tight spandex and the slight filling in of her backside as the suit’s lining pinched deeper into her softening edges.

“Miss Ashely!” Amelia said excitedly as her nipples budded beneath a suit swelling with cleavage. “C-c-cannn I b-b-be excused? ''<bzzzzzzt!>'' I think-think-think IIIIII-“

“You’re excused!” her coach hurriedly interjected. With a vacuous smile, Amelia spun on her heel and began an unsteady march to the door, while the last of her classmates broke down in the pool. Max wondered if she alone might actually make it out as she planted her legs firmly before the door, swung her arm out in an exaggerated gesture, and swung it back to grip the door handle. At that moment, two distinct tendrils of lightning crept up from her ankles until they joined in a flickering tongue of electricity between her thighs, and fused into a bright blue star before disappearing with a pulse when they met her groin. Her round buttocks plumped and then clenched, seeming to devour the back of her swimsuit and transforming it into a taught thong as she gasped, “Oooh!” Her body suddenly flared with color, glowing incandescent for a moment before she burst to apart in a rapid succession of sharp electrical explosions, falling into a buzzing, smoking tangle of limbs like a discarded mannequin.

The robotic girl’s swim team was no more, the ruined components of most of its members at the bottom of an electrified pool. Max sighed and looked up at Miss Ashely, who seemed to be slowly regaining her composure.

“Max-“ she began, her face softening into an assured, confiding smile.

“Let me guess — I need to see the Headmaster?”

“Yes, Max. He can explain-“

“You see, that’s ''not'' really what I’m after. I find that as time goes on, I don’t really ''care'' about an explanation.”

Ashely blinked, her smile faltering briefly. “Well, whatever it is that you ''do'' desire, the Headmaster-“

He cut her off again. “The Headmaster hasn’t been pretty fucking off-target with my desires thus far.”

Her smile darkened, her voice hardening as she said, “So… you wish to defy the will of someone who has complete control over this entire facility, yourself included. How do you expect this to end for you should you upset him?”

“But why go to see some stodgy administrator when I’m having so much ''fun''?” he asked, readying the device. “Here, this should help you to empathize with my present situation.” He punched the button and Miss Ashley froze with a skeptical look on her face. Max pulled off her thin athletic jacket, her plump cleavage practically bursting through her fitted white tank-top. Max gave her awe-inspiring breasts a hands-on appraisal and found them unusually taught and springy, adding credence to his ‘glitched-tits’ theory. Sweat was now glistening across their rounded surface, and he used the device to turn her back on. The robotic instructor let out a sharp gasp, her fingers jerking to her chest and then shying away as she steadied her gaze on Max. “You… you need to see…”

“A bit more fine-tuning,” Max muttered, freezing her again. He brushed her hips, sliding his hands over the smooth fabric of her minimal exercise shorts, tracing the curve of her well-formed bottom, slipping his hand beneath to feel her silky skin growing warmer at his touch. He delivered a light squeeze and experienced a swell of warmth. Were her components trying to mimic a human response, or simply venting excess heat as he overloaded them with a situation she was not programmed to handle?

This time when she was unfrozen, she gave a low moan and staggered into Max, her hand raking across his chest. “M-m-maxxx…” she whispered, “y-you need to s-seeee…” She hesitated, then tore off her tank top. Before her buoyant tits could settle from their violent liberation, she was on him, her mouth crushed against his as she attacked his trousers. The moment he had worked her skimpy shorts down to her knees, she gave a limber flex of a toned leg and was free of them, still wearing her dainty green trainers and socks. With athletic poise she speared herself upon his raging erection (whose solidity shocked even him, given its recent activities). She gave a digitally fluctuating moan, and he could feel an electrical prickling as her tight sex forced its way along his shaft.

As the two tumbled on to a rubber exercise mat, Max couldn’t help but provoke a reaction by remarking, “You, know you were right — I really ought to see the Headmaster now.”

Her teeth clenched, lights behind her blue eyes sparking. Her rhythmic thrusting ground to a shuddering halt with her heated pelvis resting against his, and she managed to stammer, “Y-y-yesss, g-g-go to the He-he-headmasterrrr-“

He gripped her tits and said, “Then again, I ''am'' enjoying myself…”

With a strangely reverberating groan, she pushed his hands against her overripe breasts and it slipped between her twin melons drenched in simulated sweat. “Th-then fuck meeee!” she whimpered, the engine of her hips sputtering to life as he fondled her apparently hypersensitive bust, moans of rapturous pleasure escaping from her with their every caress.

“But I ''have'' kept him waiting quite a while…”

Her once smoothly pumping ass bucked in violent shudders before she stopped halfway along his length. Smoke rose from her ears and electricity flitted over her spasming features, her brown pony-tail inexplicably pointing up and kinking like a query mark as if to highlight her confusion, her flashing eyes straying in random directions. “No-yes-yes-no, y-you mussszzzzt-“

“Then again, he could probably stand to wait a bit more…”

As her machinery fought contradicting instructions, her quivering pelvis convulsed along his cock in completely arrhythmic thrusts. Her face flushed unnaturally pink as she took on a look of complete confusion, eyes growing wide as she panted, “System errorrrr corrruptionnnnn- “

“But knowing that he wouldn’t like it if-”

With a noise that was equal parts exasperated moan and sharp mechanical squeal, the back of Miss Ahsley’s head exploded, her flushed face looking at him with a delirious, absent smile while her hips gave a final thrust, then she eased forward in a gentle collapse across him. Her steadily firming bust was near frictionless with synthetic sweat as she slid off of his chest and rolled to one side. Glancing at her he was met by the back of her head, an uneven protrusion of metal and sparking wire.

“Well…” Max muttered, staring at the off-white expanse of the pool’s ceiling while Miss Ashley’s robotic body twitched faintly with a whir, “…now what?”

When the question went unanswered by his own thoughts or any other party, he got dressed and strolled back down the hall where he found Megan still on her knees. Jacob’s headless body convulsed with a small electrical surge at every movement of Megan’s mouth.

“I admire your dedication,” Max remarked.

Megan gave a muffled moan, but remained at her present task. Max looked around, wondering if and when there would be another ‘summons’ after the two prefects had failed to retrieve him…. and what form that summons might take.

“You know, I think I ''will'' go and see the Headmaster,” Max announced.

Megan popped off of Jacob’s cock and gave an upbeat, “OK!” Released from her care, Jacob’s body popped and fizzed for a moment before crumpling into a smoldering heap. With a trembling rattle in her knees, the fembot rose to her feet and began a faltering shuffle toward the Headmaster’s office, glancing over her shoulder to beckon Max with a crooked smile before her head snapped forward once more. He matched the pace of the teetering robot, who took his hand to steady her lopsided gait.

“How w-was the swimmmm team?” she asked, and Max thought he heard the hint of a suggestion in her voice.

“Oh… not quite what I’d hoped for,” he sighed. “And at this rate, the Academy is going to run out of students by the week’s end.”

With a sudden tick of her neck followed by a much gentler motion, she inclined her head on his shoulder, “In the end, ''we’re'' ex-x-pendabllle,” she said lazily. “''You’re'' the one he wants to p-p-preserve.”

“Well,” Max said, eying the door to the headmaster’s office ahead of them. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

==Part Four==

The moment Max stepped into the office, he heard a voice far more firm than polite state, “Please, have a seat.” It was Miss Brookes, the Headmaster's well-coiffed personal assistant, behind an impressively large and conspicuously empty desk. Beyond the *antique* leather sofa she had indicated, the whole room was furnished matching weathered but well cared for dark wood furniture. Given the recent exposure of the Academy’s facade, Max had to wonder if this all wasn't as fake as the blonde secretary fixing him with her impassive blue eyes.

Because he had had little interaction with the headmaster, he had had little interaction with her –but he had always admired the Headmaster's apparent tastes - sleek and tanned and wearing pristine whites, he was always aware of her presence from the brisk click of her heels as she moved through the halls on her errands. Despite the capricious authority she represented, any anxiety upon seeing her was offset by her flawless beauty, her golden hair perfectly parted, her trim curves a captivating silhouette beneath her spotless white skirt and blouse. Of all the robotic faculty, she seemed the apex of a finely tuned machine, every movement and statement made with no question of intent.

In stark contrast to the smoothly operating secretary, the buzzing and sputtering Megan followed Max, falling against him as one of her jittering legs gave out. She emitted a digitized "Oops!" her eyes eventually swiveling to meet his from behind tangles of honey-blonde curls. “I think I might be sick-dizzy-sleepy-''horrrrrny''!" she exclaimed in rapid succession, leaning heavily on his arm.

"Megan, you are to report to the nurse immediately," Miss Brookes stated.

"Already did!" Megan chirped as Max eased her on to the couch where she slumped awkwardly in her rumpled uniform. He gave her a reaffirming pat before walking straight to the Headmaster's door. Miss Brookes quickly stood and blocked his access, reiterating, "The Headmaster will see you when he is ready- until then, you must take a seat."

Max looked at the stern secretary's unyielding expression and smiled. "I think both the headmaster and I have kept each other waiting long enough." He thumbed the control in his pocket to immobilize her, and she gave a slight shudder - but when he tried to push her aside, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully.

"You will wait," she stated as she lead him by his pained wrist to the couch. Though she was obviously not frozen by Max’s device, her movements were stiffer than before, lacking her former graceful efficiency, and accompanied by the audible whining of servos. He tried the remote again, but to no effect - she forced him down on to the couch, glowered at him as if daring him to try something, and gave a rigid pivot to return to her desk.

"Plan B, I suppose," he muttered, producing the syringe full of 'compliance' from his jacket pocket and thumbing the cap free. As she stepped away, Max jabbed the needle through her skirt and into the tantalizing curve of her posterior. Once more she stiffened, her machinery emitting a growing buzzing sound.

"Show me to the headmaster if you please," Max said, nearly sinking the needle in the bin. Megan let out a sympathetic coo of disappointment, then a profusion of sparks.

"Error," Miss Brookes stated plainly, turning to him with a blank expression. "Priority conflict, corruption in decision matrix."

"Well, maybe don't worry your pretty little head," Max said, stepping toward the door. "I'll see myself in."

With a chorus of mechanical whirring, Miss Brookes put herself between him and the door, placed her fingers upon the handle, and froze. "Error," she said, her head twitching, thin wisps of smoke beginning to rise from beneath her blonde hair.

Max put his hand over hers, receiving a jolt of electricity, and forced her to turn the handle - but just as the door began to open, the malfunctioning secretary jerked it shut and slammed herself into Max, her body feverishly hot.

"Perhaps I c-can get you somethinnnng while you wait-t-t?" she buzzed, her tanned cleavage heaving despite a distinct lack of breath.

"The door, Miss Brookes," Max commanded, though he could feel his resolve weakening as she hitched up her skirt, a white thong tucked between her bronzed cheeks, marred by a small pink dot where the needle had struck.

"Error!" she groaned, collapsing into him, her body now slick with artificial perspiration, her white clothes clinging to her wet curves. "Unable to follow priority command, p-please issue new directivvvvvve!" She was panting now, her hands tugging at her thong as she pleaded, "Max, would you n-not preferrr to-"

Suddenly, the soaked and smoking fembot released her grip upon Max as Megan buried her face into the secretary's ass, tearing her thong off and plunging her tongue into the stunned robot's pussy. She immediately began to convulse, electricity creeping around her formerly perfect hair, stammering, "Mmmmmmegan, you are interfeeeering with violation in decision you must please to nnnurse for immediate dis-dis-mantling!"

"Good, isn't she?" Max remarked, stepping back toward the headmaster's door.

"Stop!" Miss Brookes barked, "You must waiiiii-" her command ended in a wail as Megan plunged deeper, rising on her knees to lift Miss Brookes into the air. The secretary writhed, suspended upon the schoolgirl's face, her tanned legs kicking helplessly as her failing machinery squealed in protest.

Max stepped into the Headmaster's office. There, behind a polished oak desk and surrounded by shelves neatly lined with leather-bound books was a tan, blond gentleman in a crisp white suit. His handsome, square-jawed face was unperturbed by the malfunction-laden cries of distress and pleasure from his secretary in the other room, and similarly betrayed no emotion as Max approached. He simply closed the ledger before him and set aside his pen before folding his hands on his desk.

"Headmaster," Max said evenly.

“Max,” the Headmaster responded with a hint of disdain. “You’ve shown yourself to be quite obstinate today.”

Max gave a shrug. “You wanted to see me-” A muffled explosion from the adjacent room caused Max to flinch, and he finished, “Well, here I am.”

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. “I suspect you think you’re entitled to an explanation.”

“If you like.”

The Headmaster blinked, which Max chose to read as him being completely gobsmacked. “So you think you have all the answers?”

“I’m the only human in a school full of robots, and someone who either likes me or doesn’t like you taught me how to make this-“ he flashed the device “-to upend all your hard work.”

For a brief moment, the Headmaster pursed his lips. “And you find this sufficient? How incurious of you.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d believe a single word of explanation from you, so let’s get to what matters – either I’ve compromised whatever it is you have going on here or you still have use for me and you’re willing to deal. If it’s the former, then I’ll be on my way-“

“To where, exactly?”

“Whatever’s over those walls.”

The Headmaster smirked.

“Or I suppose you’ll imprison me or kill me or ''whatever''. But if you want to make a deal, I’d like to hear your offer.”

There was a long pause as the Headmaster scrutinized Max, his slender, perfectly manicured fingers drumming exactly once across his desk. “I would propose you return to your studies and graduate.”

Max snorted. “I’m going to need a new history teacher.”

“You need not fret - Miss Belle will be ready for tomorrow’s lesson, with no recollection of today’s mischief.”

Something about the utter lack of concern, the ''assuredness'' in the Headmaster’s voice really ate at Max – but he was damned if he was going to show it. “Fine. Excellent. First thing in the morning, then.”

“Max, I don’t think you’re committing to this in good faith.”

It took every ounce of Max’s self-control not to snap – this ''had'' to be a deliberate provocation. ''This man'' wanted to talk about ''good faith'' after lying to him for his entire life?

The Headmaster continued in a voice like satin. “It would help to ease my suspicion if you would ask for something in return.”

“Ma-“. Max stopped himself. He was surprised at how reflexively her name came to his lips – Maya, his first real girlfriend, the one who had sacrificed herself for him… Or, as he had come to realize, Maya had been his robot girlfriend, sent to him when he began to stray from his path, and who had ultimately set him back on it more firmly than any threat or reward ever could. But despite all that, he still longed to see her again. And this was all likely the design of this smug prick sitting across from him.

“What was that?” the Headmaster quietly asked.

''Fuck you, Headmaster'' was what he thought, but it came out, “Megan.”

There was a slight tic in the Headmaster’s brow. “What about Megan?”

“I want her to remember today’s ''mischief''.”

Max felt himself once more under the Headmaster’s scrutiny. “Why don’t we just make her your girlfriend. It would be easier to do that than-“

“Look, I’ll be there on time for history class, and for every class right up until I graduate as your diligent pupil with perfect marks for attendance. I’ll do my homework, I’ll press my uniform, and I’ll have lights out at nine pm sharp. Here-“ he tossed the remote device on the Headmaster’s desk. “But Megan ''remembers''.”

The headmaster took the device, turning it over in his hands. “Very well, Max.” He carefully deposited the device in a door that opened and shut with a whisper. “Megan will ‘remember’.”

Uncertain in this victory, Max fidgeted in his chair, while the Headmaster seemed content to sit in silence. Unable to bear it any longer, Max stood.

“I shall see you at graduation,” the Headmaster stated with certainty, opening the ledger in front of him. Max made his way to leave the room, pulling open the door to find the headless wreck of Miss Brookes sparking just beyond. Megan sat just behind her on her haunches, her face and hair plastered with lubricant and robotic fluids, her uniform a total mess, as she stared into the distance with a banal smile.

“You’re also going to need a new secretary,” Max grumbled.

“You’ve had a difficult morning,” the Headmaster coolly replied. “Why not take the rest of the day off.”

Megan’s attention snapped to Max with a whir of machinery, her smile broadening. “H-hello, Mmmax!”

Stooping down, he lifted her to her feet, but her knees seemed to buckle whenever he stopped supporting her.

“Th-the Headmaster c-can help me-me-me!” she said in cheery stammer.

Max ducked down and slid his arm behind her legs, hoisting her in a bridal carry. She was lighter than when he first tried to move her in the shower, and he was able to bring her out of the Headmaster’s office and take a steady pace towards his own dormitory.

The Academy was empty, Max’s footsteps echoing through the deserted halls while Megan’s legs idly twitched and whirred, her bare thighs warm and against his forearms. “Wh-where are we g-going?” Megan asked with a slight giggle.

“My room.”

“M-Max!” she said, her face in shock. “I c-can’t b-b-be in the boy’s d-dormitory!” Even in her deteriorated state, even knowing she was wholly artificial, the coy look she gave him with her honey-colored ringlets spilling over her half-lidded eyes sent his heart racing. “What are you p-p-planninnnng?”

''To fuck your silicon brains out?'' Only that wasn’t it. “Megan,” he said, surprised that her name caught in his throat. “I just… I need someone to know what happened today, someone I can talk to, even if… even if she’s just a robot.”

“I’m n-not a ro-bot-bot-bot, Max!” Megan laughed, sparks trickling from her head.

“Today was… You genuinely helped me today, and you’re in this sorry state because of me, and I don’t even know if it makes sense to… to feel guilt, or gratitude, or even… like…”

Megan kissed him, the feeling electric – literally – with a strange tang from the fluids left by Miss Brookes. It felt both artificial and spontaneous and he realized there was no way they were making it all the way to his room. Breaking from her lips to find ''somewhere'' for the them, he settled on the teacher’s lounge and fumbled his way through the door, still holding her in his arms and returning her kisses with matched fervor. Stumbling through an obstacle course of chairs and tables, he finally collapsed with her on to a couch. Already her hands were at his trousers, his in her blouse, and soon both were shed, followed by the undergarments beneath. With his kisses trailing down her neck to her ample breasts humming with an electric buzz, he entered her bare, sweltering sex beneath her tweed skirt.

Her voice skipped in pitch, fluctuating synthetically as he thrust into her again and again, his hands squeezing breasts that felt strangely tacky from the intense heat of her malfunctioning body. Servos in her legs whirred uselessly as her entire chassis was rocked by Max’s unbridled enthusiasm, what little control she had being channeled into meeting his relentless hips with bucking of her own. “Alll forrrr y-youuu, M-max!” she squealed, smoke rising from her trembling lips. “All f-forrr – ''Ahhhh!''” Warmth and wetness surged around Max, a string of electric bursts erupting inside her, patches of her tanned skin searing with light. He brought his lips from her tits to her smoking mouth, ignoring the acrid taste to kiss her deeply as he throbbed in explosive release, his hands squeezing her irrepressibly round ass while the bundled artificial musculature spasmed beneath its smooth synthetic surface. A sudden powerful shock from her made him see stars, leaving him tensed and numb.

Gradually sensation came back to him through the feel of her soft and warm body, her thoroughly drenched sex, her itchy, rumpled skirt, her damp honey curls. Her body twitched and hummed, and he couldn’t tell if the occasional moan and sigh from her was a sign of her cognizance or just the malfunctioning vocalizations of a broken robotic schoolgirl. He could empathize either way, feeling incapable of saying much of anything, his consciousness not worth the trouble of holding on to…

Max awoke alone in his own bed, a glance at his clock telling him it was Monday morning – again? That couldn’t have been a dream - he remembered too much, it was simply too lucid for it ''not'' to have been real, and yet – robots? Ridiculous. He realized he didn’t have a lot of time before history class, and used the mindless routine of getting ready as a way to put off the impossible thoughts swirling in his head.

Crossing the yard, he avoided eye contact with his fellow classmates, and none pressed him on his sullen mood – at least until spied Megan waiting on the steps of the main entrance. She was lovely as ever, her hair neatly pulled back, her uniform fitted perfectly, her movement graceful and without any accompanying mechanical sound as she descended the steps to meet him. “You seem to be in a mood,” she said with a wry smile.

Max could only stare at first, unable to formulate the question. “Did we… are you…?”

“Oh dear,” Megan said, pulling him out of the stream of students entering the building, drawing a few curious glances at this uncharacteristic fraternization. “Were you so adamant that ''I'' remember everything just because you couldn’t be arsed to?”

He felt giddy, light headed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her. He leaned in, and she gave him a swat across the cheek. “Are you daft?” she hissed. “We’ve got class! And ''you'' made a commitment.”

“Yeah, but… we could… I mean, if this is all for my benefit, why do ''you'' need to go to gym class?”

“Why not?” she said, giving his reddened cheek a gentle pat. “You knowing I’m there should help you imagine me in my tight little shorts~”

Max swallowed, trying to find the ideal opening argument for them to skip class and fuck in the hedge row when the five-minute bell sounded.

“That’s me,” Megan said, glancing around at the now empty yard before leaning in to give him a small kiss on his cheek. “Get to class. And try not to break Miss Belle again!” She spun on her heel to leave, slipping from his grip as she sprinted toward the gym.

He watched her run with an aching desire to chase her – it was easy to imagine how the ensuing moments would play out, and to extrapolate them into another day of debauchery, regardless of any promises made to the Headmaster. But beyond that… he didn’t know. And if he followed the path set before him, the one he had pledged himself to, he ''still'' didn’t know what would happen… or, even more troubling, what he ''wanted'' to happen.

Max dutifully climbed the stairs and made sure he was in his seat with a sharpened pencil in hand by the ringing of the final bell. Miss Belle was soon repeated the opening of yesterday’s lecture on the history of the Empire’s conquests, and Max began scribbling plans for a new remote device of his own design.

Nihilistic

2022-08-05T15:09:44Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Part four */

=Nihilistic=
==Part one==
Surrounded by an abrupt silence, Max looked about him in disbelief, then back to the device in his hands, a rough amalgam of wires, radio parts, and a component of unknown origin. After fruitless experimentation with the device in what little personal time he had, checking and re-checking that he had followed those mysterious instructions to the letter, an idle press of its solitary button during class had finally revealed its function — it could stop time.

With a faint ‘click’, everything in the classroom, his fellow students, their history teacher, Miss Belle, all of them froze, motionless, not so much as a breath stirring them. Nervously, he pressed the button again; to his great relief, time was immediately restored. Miss Belle continuing to scratch upon the chalkboard the various names and dates that chronicled the collapse of nations that had once been The Empire’s feckless enemies, the harsh sound underscored by the faint rasp of two-dozen pencils as her students dutifully copied everything down.

Miss Belle seemed to sense his distraction and turned her imperious gaze upon him. “Max, do you have something more important to do than — what is that?”

He quickly brought the device beneath his desk, but Miss Belle was already advancing quickly, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her tone becoming increasingly stern, she repeated, “I ''asked'' you, what is-“ he thumbed the button, halting her progress mid-stride - but he noted that instead of immediately freezing, she finished her step, both feet firmly on the ground before she stopped completely.

He looked around the room again and realized the clock still ticked away seconds — outside the window, a breeze stirred through the trees hedging the Academy’s sprawling manicured grounds, grey clouds moving in the distance. It wasn’t freezing time, he realized, just the people around him. He carefully put the device on the floor, took up a pencil and a sharpener, and triggered the button with the toe of his shoe.

“-that thing you’re holding?” Miss Belle resumed, striding up to his desk. He presented his hands, and she seemed deeply troubled what she saw, her dark lashes fluttering in confusion. “I… pencil…?”

Max said nothing, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from seeing his beautiful yet unfailingly harsh instructor so bewildered. “Yes, well — this time is for taking notes, not sharpening pencils.” She pivoted and strode back to the board. “You will remain after class and prepare a stock of pencils for yourself and your classmates by sharpening my entire supply-“

He clicked the button with his toe, then leisurely stood up and walked past his frozen fellow students, humming the chorus of the Empire’s bombastic anthem to himself. Rummaging through her impeccably organized cabinet, he found her ridiculously vast stockpile of pencils and pulled every box. Thinking that he should do more than simply throw them in the class’s bin, he returned to his desk to claim the device and stepped into the hall.

''You’ve got a bloody [b]time machine[/b] — or something of the sort — and you’re wasting it on pencils?'' He was, after all, an adult now, along with every other student at this school, all on the cusp of “graduation” — and this current use of his newfound powers seemed incredibly puerile.

“Why not the girl’s locker room?” he said with a start, and began heading toward the gym, tossing the pencils at his earliest convenience.

Moving through the dimly lit dark wood halls of the Academy, Max could not help but feel on-edge. Its many rules were strictly enforced, every student’s time tightly controlled, going back as far as his earliest memories of childhood here — if he were caught out of class, unable to explain himself, he would lose what precious free time he had, possibly meals as well.

But how would he be caught? He had stopped time, hadn’t he? As he passed by a classroom door, he cautiously glanced through the window to see students intently taking notes, untouched by the device’s effects. What sort of range did it have? Would the stoppage ‘wear off’ in Miss Belle’s classroom? As other questions about its use and limitations came to mind, he had to face the most obvious ones — what was it ''for''? And who had wanted him to have it?

Two nights ago, Max found a folded sheet of paper and a wafer-thin component tucked into an engineering textbook. The paper was covered in impeccably written directions on how to construct some sort of transmitter, how to attach the component to the finished product. There was no hint as to what it might do or who had created the schematics or the tiny component itself, but these were not great concerns to Max. Obviously they had intended for him to have it… and in the absence of instruction, they presumably were leaving its use to his own judgment.

Arriving at the girl’s locker room, he considered that this might be a test from one of his instructors, and that ogling his female co-eds in the shower was not likely to earn him passing marks. But this was not how tests at the Academy were conducted; there was never any room for creativity, only the rote memorization and regurgitation of whatever subject they were studying. Looking at the clock, he believed that class C would be getting ready for P.E. Before he could give any real thought to the moral implications of his actions, Max hit the button on the device and stepped through the door.

The scene was less engaging that he would have thought, the tableau of students frozen in their underwear far more clinical than titillating. Girls he had known throughout his years at the Academy were in various stages of undress — but they all seemed so… inert. All of them staring blankly forward, methodically getting out of their uniforms and into their gym clothes. He supposed it was silly to think he would find a private show full of girls in pin-up poses, but this…

Following the sound of running water, he rounded a corner and immediately forgot to breathe. There stood the surpassingly lovely Megan, frozen in the steaming shower. Shining rivulets ran over her statue-still body, tributaries collecting in streams that flowed over her pert curves — she would not have looked out of place as the marble centerpiece in a fountain of frolicking naiads. She held her golden hair back with both hands, facing the stream, her lips slightly parted, water overflowing from her mouth…

Upon registering that last detail, Max rushed to her in a panic — were her lungs flooded with water!? When he unfroze her, would she drown? Was she drowning already? He grabbed her beneath her raised arms and pulled her free of the shower, finding her heavier than anticipated — his foot slipped on the wet tile, and he dropped her before falling himself on to the hard floor.

There was a sharp pain in his tailbone, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Megan had fallen on her side, still locked in that nymphean pose — she seemed unharmed, except her face was… ''askew''. As if it were a mask on crooked, only partially concealing something beneath, something silver and glinting. Max leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in this ‘gap’ between her face and her head. ''Was that… machinery?''

A sudden bright burst of electricity flared from her temple as her blue eyes snapped open, staring directly at him — Max gave a startled cry, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the locker room, halfway back to his classroom before he managed to stop himself. He realized his device was not stopping time it all — it was an on / off switch for robots. Oh, and by the way, just one more tidbit — everyone he had known his entire life was apparently a machine.

He wondered if he ought to be outraged or upset or if he was simply going insane — for in truth, he felt none of these things at all, but rather, a powerful curiosity. In a lot of ways, the Academy made more sense to him now that before he knew he was surrounded by robots. Of ''course'' his classmates could effortlessly breeze through subjects that seemed designed specifically for his torment: ''they'' were just following programming, ''he'' actually had to learn this stuff. But why? For whose benefit? ''Why go through all this trouble?''

Max tried to think if there was anyone he might suspect was human. There was the nebulous headmaster, the authority he had never actually seen, who seemed to exist more as a vengeful deity than an actual person. Perhaps the transfer student, Maya Green, his former girlfriend and partner in crime, right up until her expulsion.

He had found her so unlike everyone else in this place, spontaneous, willing to take risks… affectionate! But he had to consider that she had been a robot too, one programmed to serve as a cautionary tale instead of another perfect student to emulate. If so, it had worked, hadn’t it? When they were both caught committing the grave offense of trying to escape the school grounds, Maya had pleaded desperately to the Disciplinarian on his behalf, tears streaming down her pretty, freckled face from those dark, almond-shaped eyes. She claimed it had all been her idea, that she had pressured Max into it, refuting Max’s insistence that he was the one behind it all. In the end, she was expelled while he was allowed to remain — and before she left, never to be seen again, Maya drew from him a promise her that he would not squander her sacrifice, that he would stay out of trouble, if only for her sake. A promise he had kept, to this day.

''To hell with it,'' he decided. ''Now it’s time to play''.

Max returned to the frozen diorama of his classroom, carefully scrutinizing Miss Belle and his fellow classmates. Even knowing they were all machines, he just couldn’t see it. He went in for a closer look at Miss Belle, her soft brown eyes staring straight ahead, her red lips parted mid-syllable, her mahogany hair in a bun wound almost as tightly as she was — but no matter how closely he looked or where he touched her cold, satin skin, he could not discern where her face might ‘detach’ in the way Megan’s had.

He idly undid the buttons on her blouse and parted the white fabric — beneath he saw the creamy hemispheres of her bountiful chest, cupped in a floral print bra, frilled in lace — but all of it unmistakably human. A thought struck Max, and he pulled off her blouse completely, then returned to his desk and activated the transmitter. Miss Belle continued right where she had left off, discussing his punishment, “-so that no one else will need to spend time fiddling at their desk instead of taking notes. Now then…” Miss Belle picked up the chalk and resumed her lecture, apparently oblivious of her missing apparel. He glanced at his fellow classmates, noticing brief flashes of confusion on their faces of each as they looked up to see far more of their teacher than they were accustomed — and just as quickly, every one of them seemed to accept the situation and resume their note-taking.

Max froze the room again and approached Miss Belle, unfastening the grey tweed pencil skirt that hugged her hips and offered tantalizing glimpses to the exquisite form of her round backside. Sliding the skirt down, he carefully took her ankle and lifted — she cooperated, balancing on one foot, then the other as he stepped her out of the grey fabric. Her matching floral panties were a snug fit against her pale, perfect rump, and he gave her cheek an appraising squeeze — her soft skin was initially cold to the touch, but warmed under his caress, pink blossoming beneath the smooth, fair surface. Not wanting to get carried away, he hastily disposed of the skirt and returned to his desk, activating the device once more.

Just as before, she continued her lecture in her underwear, her forceful gestures at the chalkboard sending delightful tremors through her voluptuous form. His classmates had additional difficulty when they noticed their instructor’s new state of undress, and not all of them recovered. To his immediate right, Grace (programmed, as near as he could tell, to be a condescending know-all) seemed to be having particular trouble. Her cute head wobbled strangely upon her neck, her typically-smug expression now screwed-up in confusion.

Max leaned close to her and whispered, “Where did her skirt go?”

Her hazel eyes darted between him and their teacher, her head-tremors worsening. “M-M-Miss Belle,” Grace stammered, ineffectually brushing aside the auburn bangs that kept falling across her eyes as her head shook. “I-I-IIIIIII fffffeeeelllll… funnyyyyy…” She took on a digitized tremulo whenever her voice caught on a vowel, her pink her lips not quite synchronized with her words.

The teacher turned and looked at her favorite pupil with distaste. “Well, go to the nurse!” Surveying the rest of the class and evidently seeing something she did not like in her students, she asked, “What is going on with all of you?”

“We’re all just wondering why you’re in your underwear,” Max said calmly. A few barks of artificial laughter sounded from the class, but were sharply cut off by Miss Belle’s glower. He noticed ticks spreading across the room while Grice rose, moving stiffly yet quickly toward the door.

Miss Belle glanced down at herself and gasped in surprise, backing against the wall while doing her best to cover her immodesty with her hands. “I d-d-do not understannnnnd-“ she groaned, looking about helplessly. A moment later her head snapped sharply forward and she straightened, relaxing her arms at her sides, crisply announcing, “Class dismissed.”

The students rose, some with great difficulty, colliding with one another in their awkward shuffle out the door. A few annoyed remarks of, “Watch where you’re going,” or “Excuse you,” could be heard, but they were all delivered in flat, impersonal tones. With the last of them gone, Miss Belle sat at her desk, staring blankly ahead.

In the ludicrously prolonged silence that followed, Max couldn’t help but crack a smile. Finally, he prompted her with, “Miss Belle, am I dismissed?” he said.

“''You'' have quite a bit of sharpening to do,” she proclaimed, suddenly animate as she strode to the supply cabinet, opening the drawer that had held the pencils — she stared blankly at the empty space for several moments, before wordlessly pushing it shut.

“Trouble, Miss Belle?” Max asked, casually approaching her.

“That is not your concern,” she said flatly. “And you are still to be reprimanded for your disruptive behavior. You… you will… you…”

“I have an idea or two,” he said with a smirk.

“And I’ll have no more of this cheek from you!” she insisted her elegant features narrowing in suspicion.

Max hit the button and once more she froze, her cross expression preserved. ”Miss Belle, you’re so tense!” he exclaimed. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Sliding his hand into the cup of her bra, he fondled the softness beneath, feeling a spreading warmth, her nipple hardening visibly even through the padded cup. “Better already!” he remarked, then slipped his hand down the front of her panties, gliding through the tuft of hair, fingers caressing and then moving within her chilled labia — in an instant, he could feel heat coming from her, her face suddenly flush with a rosy glow. He withdrew his hand and unfroze her.

“''<Hahhhhh!>''” she gasped, chest heaving, one of her hands taking hold of the breast he had just released, the other cupping lightly over her groin. She held it there, trembling, before a finger shyly pressed in against the fabric of her panties, soliciting another gasp. Max approached put his arms around her, taking hold of her rump, reacquainting himself with her familiar softness with a tender squeeze.

She stared at him in stunned surprise, her red lips gaping as she struggled to find her voice. Suddenly, her head snapped rigidly into place, her expression resetting to its customary haughtiness as she said, “Come with me.”

She broke from him and walked stiffly to her desk, then turned to face him, stating, “Take off your uniform.”

“If you insist,” Max said with an exaggerated sigh, and was soon naked before her.

“Now, remove my undergarments.”

He slid her panties down her shapely legs, taking the opportunity to retrace those elegant lines with his fingertips as he stood. She ignored this bit of foreplay, spun on her heel, and bent over her desk, brazenly presenting her porcelain white derriere and still-flushed sex. “Make love to me,” she demanded airily. “If you are able to perform to even the most modest of standards, we shall consider your punishment served.”

With another forced sigh, Max entered her slowly, her body tensing at the introduction. He took hold of her cool, white hips, rapidly bringing her to warmth and color as her cushioned backside compressed against him.

“I… would have… expected more from you,” she announced between quiet grunts, casually undoing her bun and shaking her lustrous mahogany hair loose over her pale shoulders, then resting once more on her forearms. “You do realize… you’re attempting to… pleasure ''me'', correct?”

Noting her physical response was far more reserved now than when she was frozen, Max leaned over and hit the device, her body abruptly stiffening. He gave her a few quick thrusts, her body reacting vigorously to every push with a rush of warmth and fluid, her smooth skin soon coated in a sheen of sweat. When he unfroze her, her legs buckled as she wailed in ecstasy, trying to stifle her cries with the back of her hand. Her body succumbed to a series of convulsions, and for the first time since he discovered what she truly was, she betrayed something of her mechanical nature beyond freezing — a high-pitched mechanical squeal from inside her chest.

“Well…” she panted, pausing as another shiver passed through her, the squeal quieting. “I suppose that will have to do. If you’re done, that will be all.”

“I’d rather not leave you wanting, Miss Belle,” Max said, casually massaging her sweat-soaked posterior.

“And as per usual,” she said, her voice with its trademark condescension, “your abilities fall well short of your ambitions.”

With a chuckle, Max said, “I’m going to enjoy this,” and tapped the device, freezing her mid-sigh.

After a series of thrusts brought her back up to a feverish temperature, he withdrew and rolled her on to her back, manually coaxing her legs down from her ‘standing’ position amidst the protest of whining servos. He pulled off her bra, her impressive breasts jostling lose, his hands massaging them as he entered her once more. Her face remained frozen mid eye-roll, but as he glided in and out of her, his hands fondling her chest, he saw tremors beneath the surface of her wet skin, her lips quavering, her eyelashes developing minute ticks. He leaned in to kiss her red lips, feeling them quiver in response as the mechanical squeal from her first orgasm returned, now accompanied by a strange buzzing. Despite her immobility, her face was slowly shifting from indifference to rapt ecstasy, her sex radiating heat, her body glistening.

He pulled out of her and re-oriented himself, sliding a cock awash in her fluids into her mouth, bringing his lips to her simmering sex. He devoured her pussy, his hands gripped tight against her pillowy thighs as her mouth slowly trembled to a close around his manhood. He began feel a faint electrical flicker across his tongue as he serviced her, and the mechanical sounds of her internal machinery went from a mere curiosity to a distressing series of pops and bangs. When he dismounted her, Max saw areas of her shapely body glowing incandescent, a burning smell filling the air as dozens of tiny tremors ran through her form.

“Satisfied, Miss Belle?” Max asked, hitting the device.

Her response was closer to a siren than any human voice, an ear-splitting wail as her back arched, her arms flailing uselessly, the mechanical cacophony inside of her reaching a shrieking crescendo. There was some internal detonation and Miss Belle tumbled from her desk, her smoldering body landing at Max’s feet, charred machinery visible through her damaged frame.

“C-c-class disssmisssszzzzzz''<bzzzzt>''” she moaned, twitching with the odd electrical burst.

“Hello, Max,” he heard a cheery voice call from the doorway. Glancing up from his damaged teacher, he saw Megan in disarray — her shirt buttons misaligned, her tie simply hanging in a loop over her shoulders, her skirt pulled indecently high, and without one of her socks — at least her face was no longer crooked.

“Hello there, Megan,” Max said, pulling on his trousers. “What brings you around?”

“I think we should see headmast-t-ter,” she said with a coy smile, a finger tangling in her damp golden hair.

“The headmaster?” He only knew him by title and reputation, but presumably the head of the Academy would have answers as to why someone saw fit to throw him in a school full of robots. “Well, why not?” Looking down, he asked, “Miss Belle, are we finished?” She buzzed before emitting an electrical pop. “Very well, Megan,” he remarked, adjusting his tie, “to the headmaster.”

==Part Two==

Max made a sweeping gesture with his arm and bid Megan a polite, “After you.” The haphazardly dressed schoolgirl smiled and set off to the Headmaster’s office unsteadily, the smooth motion of her tawny legs interrupted by a twitch or stutter that would lead her to stumble, pause for a few seconds in recovery, and then resume walking as if nothing had happened, only to repeat the process. While he was in no great hurry, Max found the uneven progress frustrating, and at the next one of her pauses, he slid his arm around her. When she hesitated, Max, encouraged her forward with a swat on the back of her skirt.

The unconscionably fresh gesture from a classmate who barely knew her only solicited a confused, “I… oh. I… ah,” from the robotic schoolgirl before she was walking again, stiffly leaning on Max whenever her legs suffered their occasional glitch.

“What can you tell me about the headmaster?” Max asked.

“I’ve neeevvvvver met him,” she answered blithely, her voice developing a metallic echo for a moment.

“Well…. what made you think we needed to see him?”

“Ummmmm…” she seemed as though she were on the cusp of answering, but as they walked she kept silent, wearing a pleasant but vapid expression, eyes blinking at too-regular intervals.

“Calling Megan? Hello?” He slid his hand under her skirt, not entirely surprised she had neglected to put on panties. “Anyone in there?” He gave her a firm squeeze, but she only blinked once more.

“I do not believe this!” the sudden shriek pulled Max’s attention from Megan’s blank staring, and he looked up to see the willowy form of his Literature teacher, Miss Wright, fast approaching. She was tall but petite, with onyx hair hanging in a perfect vertical line to her narrow shoulders, brought to a minute but precise swaying by her small, scissoring steps. The offense she took was plain across her pretty, angular features, her green eyes flashing behind her sleight, rimless frames. “Disentangle yourselves from each-“ she froze when Max thumbed the button, but he was surprised to see Megan did not.

“I… dunno?” Megan offered, unprompted.

“That’s something new,” he observed, then asked, “Want to have some fun with Miss Wright?”

“I would p-prefer we find the headmaster…” she mewled weakly, giving his arm a tug.

“Soon enough!” He spun her into Ms. Wright’s frozen body — as the two reeled slightly from the impact, Max took hold of Miss Wright’s hand and pressed it against Megan’s bare bottom.

Megan’s face took on a quizzical look as Max hopped away, thumbing the device.

“-other this instant!” Wright barked, then stared in silence at where her hand disappeared under her student’s skirt. “What?!” she gasped, recoiling as if from a hot stove.

Max froze her again, positioning the Miss Wright’s other hand on Megan’s pert rump while Megan still looked confused.

“Just bear with me, Megan,” Max stated, hitting the button again.

“What is… what am… what-” Wright’s jerked her hand free once more, her breathing labored and heavy, and Max repeated the process.

“Miss Wright is acting peculiar,” Megan said as her cheek was gripped once more by Wright’s delicate fingers under Max’s guidance. “S-she should see Nurse Green!”

The mention of the Academy’s voluptuous, raven-haired health administrator stirred several thoughts in Max, and he proclaimed, “I think we ourselves might pay her a visit — Miss Wright, however, will be better served by our custodian.” He activated the device and Miss Wright haltingly withdrew her hand, jittering, eyes blinking unevenly.

Max began unbuttoning Miss Wright’s vest as she watched in open-mouthed disbelief, but despite being animate, did nothing to stop him.

“There once was a teacher named Wright” he slowly began.

“W-w-what iis thiissss?” she demanded.

“Whose only real motive was spite,” he continued, opening the vest, taking less care with her blouse to keep up the rhythm of his improvised poem.

“M-m-max, do you w-wish t-to b-b-be ''expelllllled''?” she gasped, but was drawing in deep breaths, her lithe body swaying wantonly back and forth, her tense fingers shredding the last few buttonholes of her blouse before shedding it completely.

“Max tickled her tits…”

“''Yes?''” she gasped, clawing off her modest silk bra, her delicate pink-tipped bosom exposed. Max hit the button and did as promised in verse, his tongue and hands quickening her nipples as heat spread through her, his fondling without pause until she was glowing with a liquid sheen, a sound coming from her like a bandsaw going through sheet metal. He cleared his throat, took Megan’s hand, and stepped back before pressing the button.

“And she flew into bits…”

“TH-THIS UUUUUNIT IIIISSSSS-!” she cried before her abdomen detonated in a flash, nothing more than wires and charred, twisting metal holding the upper and lower halves of her slender form together as she toppled to the ground in a cloud of white smoke.

“And it wasn’t a pretty sight.” Max paused, wrinkling his nose at his failed metric - Miss Wright would never have approved.

“The Headmaster, yes?” Megan insisted, unfazed by the spectacle. “H-he can make sense out of all of th-thisss!”

“It should be fun to watch him try,” Max said with grin, and together they resumed their trip.

One of the classroom doors behind him flung open, and he heard the rumbling voice of their chemistry teacher shout, “What the devil is going-“ Without looking back, Max hit the button, growing ever-fonder of his device in the ensuing silence.

----

There was queue leading out of the nurse’s office comprised entirely of the students from Miss Belle’s history lesson. A few idly conversed about things not in any way related to any odd developments in Miss Belle’s room, but many sat at queer angles or just stood facing in a random direction, staring blankly. Man and Megan bypassed the line and opened the door to find Nurse Green already tending to a very flustered Grace.

The nurse’s unmistakable silhouette was framed against the shuttered window, those oft-thought-of curves unsuppressed in her austere yet fitted slate dress and white apron tied in a neat bow about her slender waist. She hastily cast a sheet over the body of her yammering student, who was saying something about “missing time”.

“Max, I think you ought to see the Headmaster at once,” Nurse Green politely insisted, her soft red lips forming each syllable neatly. Her pale blue eyes watched him closely, framed by an alluring wave of dark hair.

“Megan and I were just on our way,” he replied, “but I thought you might take a look at her — she had a bit of an accident in the shower and her faceplate popped off.”

Grace sat up, mouth gaping the sheet falling from her. Her shirt was held up above her midriff by a protruding cable that disappeared behind the table. Nurse Green, however, only continued to watch him coolly.

“Obviously she was able to reattach it,” Max continued, “but she’s been acting strange ever since. I thought you might take a look, see if you can-“

“He ''knows''?” Grace exclaimed, head shaking. “Will there even be a graduation?!”

“Quiet, Grace,” Nurse Green stated calmly, her eyes never leaving Max.

“What is this going to do to the map? How did this even happen? Isn’t the maintenance of the student body ''your'' responsibility, Nurse Green? These malfunctions-“

For a brief moment, the nurse diverted her attention to a cart where she withdrew a syringe of dark liquid that twinkled with sharp points of light. Roughly pulling up Grace’s skirt, Nurse Green injected the contents into the student’s pale, bared hip and disposed of the empty syringe with a light toss before turning back to Max, the incident over in seconds.

“Quiet, Grace”, Nurse Green repeated, and this time her patient complied with a mute nod, sinking back to the table.

“And… I’ve got a few questions of my own,” Max added, unnerved by her scrutiny and that sudden display of speed, trying to casually slip his hand into his pocket where the device rested.

“The Headmast-t-errr,” Megan weakly interjected, ignored by them both.

“I imagine you must,” she said, her eyes plainly following Max’s movements. He stopped.

“Alright… am I the only human here?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Alright… fair enough… I was expecting a bit more evasion from you… OK. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why am I a human in a boarding school full of robots?”

“Max, trust my experience on the matter when I tell you that you are better off not knowing.”

“Now ''there’s'' the evasion I was expecting!”

“This must have been very hard on you,” she said, her face in a sympathetic pout.

Max shrugged, “Actually… no.”

“What if I told you I could make this just a bad dream,” she promised, leaning toward him, her left arm in her lap as her bicep displaced the soft silhouette of her chest. He almost didn’t notice that her right hand strayed by the cart to collect a syringe of clear liquid. “Or perhaps a very good one… but you can wake from it tomorrow and find everything back to how it was-”

He jabbed the button with an exultant, “Fuck th-“ his words cut off when at the same instant the Nurse lunged. He flinched, eyes clenching shut — but despite the seemingly inevitable sting of the needle, it never came. He opened his eyes and saw her frozen, the syringe millimeters from his neck. He looked at Megan, who only inclined her heard toward the door with a plaintive expression.

“We’ll have no more of that,” Max declared, pulling the syringe from Nurse Green’s fingers. He went to her cart and found another syringe of the dark, glittering liquid. He hiked her dress up over her magnificently presented posterior, cradled lovingly in red panties whose seams pinched invitingly into that plush expanse. “This should settle you down,” he said, driving the needle into her artificial ass and pumping her full of… whatever this stuff was.

“Now then,” he said, putting the table on which Grace lay frozen between them before hitting the button, “Would you describe your current mood as ‘stabby’, Nurse Green?”

She slowly rose from her half-lunge, pivoting to face Max with a blank expression on her face. “I would describe myself as compliant.”

“Wonderful! OK, let’s try again — why am I here?”

Nurse Green simply stared at him blankly.

“Nurse Green? Hello?”

“Hello.” She responded without emotion.

“Nurse Green, ''tell me why I am here.''”

But she only stared.

Max tensely ran his hands through his hair and gnashed his teeth, growling, “Why do you have to be so difficult?!”

The three fembots all stared at him, though Megan brightly offered, “If you have questions, the Headmassszzzter is the one most equipped to answerrrrr them!”

“Fine, you know what? Perhaps Nurse Green was right. Perhaps I ''don’t'' need to know why I’m here.” He started removing his uniform. “Besides, who needs answers when you can just have a robot orgy, eh?”

Noting a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he added, “Could you all maybe liven up a bit?” Megan smiled absently, the others remained unchanged.

“Megan, would you like to start things off by going down on Grace?”

“Max, we really ought to-“

“Grace, would you start things off by going down on Megan?”

“Of course.” The mousy student slid from the table, trailing her cord while Megan shifted in a fitful dance. Their diminutive classmate dropped to her stockinged knees and reached up under Megan’s skirt, pulling the uncertain fembot’s hips to meet her upturned face.

“We… we could always come ba-''<hahhhh>!''” Megan cried, her body slumping against Grace in a peal of pleasure. He noted Grace was also affected, her knees starting to sway from their rigid right angles, her parallel feet with the tips of her black shoes evenly on the floor now trembling, splaying apart as muffled moans could be heard from beneath Megan’s rustling skirt.

“Lovely! And Nurse Green, if you be so kind as to favor me with a good fucking?”

After a few seconds, the nurse moved into action, efficiently removing her apron with one hand while the other methodically ran through the buttons of her dress, discarding both articles on either side of her when she arrived before him, her red undergarments cinching around her luscious curves.

He laid himself on the examination table and exclaimed, “Nurse, I’ve been having this rather painful problem that won’t seem to go away on its own!”

She stopped, asking, “Are you looking for a diagnosis or sex?”

“Apparently I need to jumpstart the foreplay,” he mumbled, reaching from the table to slap the device’s button.

“Oh… why did you stop?!” Megan protested, shaking the suddenly inert Grace in frustration.

“It’s only for a moment, Meg,” he offered, briefly but vigorously working Nurse Green’s breasts with both hands, doing the same to her backside, noting the expected increase in temperature and perspiration. “Right — another go!” he slapped the button.

Nurse Green’s body shook with desperate, panting breaths as she hugged herself, breasts heaving — but it was Grace’s sudden shrill squeal that demanded his attention, and he saw that Megan had managed to slip under her partner and was now in process of repaying her for her services. She caught Max looking at her, sweat dripping from her upturned nose, and she gasped, “Mind your own work!”

Encouraged by this display of personality, he turned to Nurse Green, who was still breathing deeply, and said, “Nurse Green, I’ve been having this-”

“Let’s take a look at you,” she said with a smile, a soft hand sliding up his thigh to seize upon his rigid cock. “Tell me, does this feel any better?” She worked him with slow, deliberate motions as Grace and Megan continued their boisterous activity unabated.

“Better…”

She slid off her panties, calmly explaining, “I’d like to check your vitals.”

“By all means,” Max grinned, putting his hands behind his head.

She straddled Max with those creamy thighs, guiding him into her velvet interior with a soft sigh. She glided up and down his length in gentle motions, breathily delivering his diagnosis. “Your temperature is thirty-seven, blood pressure one-sixty over eighty — elevated, but expected under the circumstances.”

“Go on,” Max encouraged, his fingers sinking into her haunches as he kneaded her tender, unrelenting hips.

“Your cholesterol is well within the range of-“

“And you were doing so well!” Max sighed. “Meg, we’re taking another time out!”

“OK!”

Grace’s protests were cut off by whatever signal the device was transmitting. Max ran his hands across Nurse Green’s lavish body, hips pumping her until she dripped with sweat and heat, her machinery chittering unevenly. He thumbed the button and she reanimated with teeth-rattling squeal of delight, her once-gentle hips now pistons in furious engine, her frantically bouncing breasts finding brief purchase in her hands, then his, then his face. Everything became a kinetic blur as his lips and tongue, fingers, his cock, all plied every piece of her soft, churning body while her internal machinery squealed on in its fevered state, strengthening her seemingly limitless climax as the pitch of her rising cry broke human limits to rattle glass and set his hairs on end. His body tensed as he tried to stave off his own climax, but he felt release burst from him in a euphoric wave. As he throbbed inside her, she began to seize up, servos straining in resistance to his tightening grip before she finally collapse atop him, internal components her still revving tirelessly as her body faltered with his.

“Is this… what you want?” she whispered hotly into his ear, her voice buzzing with electricity, her sex drawing new life from his recovering manhood as he felt her walls pulse in time to some new humming within her body.

“Every… day… of the week!” he panted

“Then let me put things back how they were,” she cooed, “and-“

He was already reaching for the device when he interrupted her. “I gave you obedience juice so you’d stop talking about-“ he felt a pinch in his hip and he flailed outward, slapping the device with his entire hand and sending it crashing to the ground. Glancing at his hip, he saw she was frozen in the process of injecting him with that clear liquid. He tore the syringe free, growling, “Nurse Green, you are in very serious trouble, missy!” He propped her upright where she sat, unmoving on his half-firm member, a seductive smile on her lips with her eyes suspiciously cast down. “Wulllyooooo…” he realized he wasn’t really sure what words had been trying to speak, and as he attempted to shove her from him, he found his arms could only limply push against her body as the room spun in a warm haze.

He ran his hands over her ample curves contentedly, noting the wealth of humming, grinding, and buzzing sounds this elicited from her. A magnetic droning from elsewhere in the room drew his attention, and he saw the frozen Grace was still on her hands with her legs spread, being enthusiastically serviced by Megan — however, her head looked like someone had turned on a bulb inside of it, the rapt expression across her mousy features hard to read against the peach-colored light shining from within.

“Oommmeg….” he slurred to the tawny blonde who lapped away at her classmate’s pussy while forcing Grace’s rigid hands to resume the rough pawing of her healthy breasts. Meg either did not hear or chose not to heed Max’s warning, and a few bright spires of electricity buzzed angrily from Grace’s open mouth before her entire face suddenly caught fire, flaring hotly for a brief moment before a concussive blast from inside her head extinguished the blaze as quickly as it started.

“Meguuyoooollllll,” Max instructed, but his erstwhile escort remained beneath her broken partner’s skirt. Giving up trying to influence her, he turned his attention back to the still-looming Nurse Green. Mustering a bit more control, he took his right hand, whose palm had been brushing up and down along the plush curve of her rump, and plugged her ass with his finger. Her head shined with peach-colored light; when he focused his will and gave a slight pump of his hips, she jostled, glowing brighter.

“''I'' have not failed this school,” a voice with a distinct metallic echo buzzed from inside of Nurse Green, who remained motionless. “''You'' have.”

Without a working tongue, he just gave her another thrust, her face brighter still.

“Your lack of patience and self-discipline,” she continued, quicker now, “means that whatever meager ''<unnnngh>'' pleasures you are able to wring from the little time you have left here will be ''nothing'' comp-''<ahhh>''-ared to what ''<ohhh>'' you could have had if… ''<ahhhhhh!>'' If you would only- ''<OHHHHHohhhhhhh>''” A burst of hissing, sizzling blue flame consumed her features, her last orgasmic cry melting into a deep register of digitized noise before getting cut off with a sudden bang. Staring down at him, Nurse Green’s face was an unrecognizable fusion of burnt machinery and charred circuitry streaming columns of smoke. Another blast from her midsection did him the courtesy of knocking her off of him. As she crashed into a smoldering jumble beside the table, Max flopped his legs over the side of the table, strenuously pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Megu,” he slurred to his escort, to no avail. Refocusing, he managed a distinct, “Megan!”

She popped her head out from under Grace’s skirt, her face and Grace’s thighs spattered in numerous fluids, oils, and some bright blue substance. “Yes, Max?”

“Hllp… trusrsss…” he groaned, gesturing limply at his legs.

“Did you want to g-g-go to the Headmaster now?”

He nodded with the assistance of his wavering torso. “Yss.”

Pushing the half-burnt ruin of Grace off of her, she quickly stood up. “You don’t look very well,” she frowned. “Perhaps N-nurse Green…” she looked at the contorted tangle of the Nurse’s faceless shell and then said, “Or…” and was left staring blankly at the ground.

“Trou… sers…” he tried again.

She sprang forward, but instead of retrieving him his clothes, she grabbed another syringe from the cabinet. “Nnononnnnonnn!” he protested, falling off the table in his attempt to escape, but Megan easily stuck him. He felt a sudden surge of energy as strength returned to his limbs. He sprang up and hugged his hapless companion tightly, kissing her firmly on her fluid-stained lips and parting with an excited, “Megan, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

She smiled brightly as one of her eyes ticked to the side.

Max pulled on his clothes, recovered the device, grabbed one of those ‘compliance’ syringes filled with glittering fluid, and lead Megan out into the hall where the students from Miss Belle’s history class were frozen in place, several exchanging odd glances or looking with suspicion toward the door.

As Megan braced herself against him and urged them both toward the Headmaster’s office, Max began to consider what other interesting detours they mind seek out.

==Part Three==

“Maybe we should find Chloe from physics class,” Max wondered aloud while walking down the empty Academy hall beside the damaged and stained (but still upright) Megan. “I always thought she might have a crush on me… or, I suppose, was programmed to have a crush on me…” His fembot companion made no comment.

“You know, despite her screeching, I’ve always had a thing for Miss Buckley,” Max continued, thinking of the maths teacher. Whenever her lessons involved calculations along curved surfaces he would lapse into vivid daydreams, inevitably brought to an end by her shrieking at him to pay attention. “I imagine she’s a wailing banshee in the sack…” Megan’s gaze remained fixed forward, though her left eye would sometimes flutter to one side, amidst tiny mechanical sounds.

“Oh!” Max suddenly exclaimed, “I just realized that the swim team has their practice ''right now''!”

“Max, our priority isszzzzz the Headmaster,” Megan gently reminded him.

“Perhaps the girl’s swim team (in all of their perfectly toned, swimsuit-clad glory) will still be an option for me after I speak to the Headmaster,” he said in a serious tone, “but I cannot leave such a thing to chance.”

“Sorry, Max,” called an unapologetic voice from behind him, “but you’ve kept the Headmaster waiting long enough.”

Max turned and sighed. “Oh. You two.”

The Academy’s two prefects, Lucy and Jacob, were fast approaching. As with so much else since his revelation, their inhuman physical and academic perfection was suddenly well accounted for. Since they were just machines, it would have been easy to give them the bodies of an Adonis and an Aphrodite, easy to pre-load electronic minds with the course material he had to study for, and easy to power their seeming limitless drive and energy with batteries. Perhaps they were meant to serve as exemplars, given the way the students and faculty fawned over them, but he saw their accomplishments in a far more skeptical light.

“Mmmm… no, I think I’d prefer the swim team,” Max announced, continuing to steer Megan toward the Academy’s pool. A hand with a startlingly firm grip fell upon his shoulder.

“You’re not listening, Max,” Jacob muttered with a trace of annoyance through his straight and gleaming machine-tooled teeth. “The Headmaster-“

“Jacob,” Max interrupted, “You seem… tense. Does he seem tense to you, Megan?”

His deteriorating fembot companion emitted a noncommittal, warbling buzz.

“Enough stalling,” Jacob growled, his square jaw clenched, “If you won’t cooperate willingly-“

“Megan,” Max winced as Jacob’s hands tightened painfully on his shoulder, “I think Jacob needs his cock sucked.” The pressure from Jacob’s hand stopped as the student robot glanced at the approaching and apparently compliant Megan.

“You what?” Jacob managed as Megan brushed Max aside and knelt down, her hands deftly working at the male prefect’s trousers. Jacob released Max and pushed back Megan’s grinning head as Lucy objected with a threatening, “Megan, get away from my-“

Max activated his device and the prefects froze. Megan, still immune to its effects, ducked under Jacob’s outstretched hand, jerked his pants down, and took his member into her mouth. With a faint electrical hum, he was immediately hard, and Megan delivered soft moans between faint audio distortions as she slid her mouth along his shaft. The accelerated and ultimately damage-inducing arousal Max had seen in the frozen female robots seemed to affect the male model to an even greater degree — with every bob of Megan’s head, the timbre of Jacob’s internal machinery rose from inaudible toward distressed, telling of the failure of one or more systems that had been pushed past their operational thresholds.

“Might want to get clear, Megan,” Max informed the still enthusiastically sucking robotic co-ed, but she paid him no heed, he lips and tongue further driving the male robot’s systems into chaos. Max shrugged and hit the button.

“-boyfriend!” finished Lucy, her exclamation barely heard over the electrical and mechanical discord echoing throughout the hall from Jacob’s shivering body.

“M-m-m-meeeg-g-gan!” Jacob managed, smoke rushing from his mouth as his eyes clenched shut, light shining red through his eyelids. “I-I-I-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-“ his statement ended when his electricity-enshrouded head exploded in a gout of white fire followed by a violent spray of fluid and bluish vapor.

Lucy stared at her headless companion, her head twitching oddly as her face cycled through a range of incongruous expressions before settling her gaze on Max with a placid look. Max simply winked, momentarily ruining her composure as her head trembled in reaction.

“Fancy a trip to the pool, Lucy?” he asked. “Wait — aren’t you on the team? Don’t tell me you’re ''truant''!”

“The Headmaster is waiting to explain everything, Max,” Lucy said, perfectly calm. “He sent us to fetch you. You are not in any trouble, nor he is angry with you, but… his patience does have its limits.”

“Fine,” Max said with a sigh, then muttered under his breath, “…race you.”

As her face registered confusion once more, he sprang into a run and rushed past her. Predictably, her insufferably competitive nature — ''programming'', Max mentally corrected — compelled her to sprint after him, her toned and bared legs pumping beneath her tweed skirt as she quickly gained on Max. When she passed him with a wry smirk on her lips, Max smiled back and thumbed the device.

Miss Belle had been in mid-stride during the device’s activation and had managed to take another step to stabilize herself before freezing, but Lucy’s imbalance was not so easily corrected. She fell, looking as though she would land on her face when her leg snapped forward and slammed her black brogue into the floor, pushing like a piston and causing her to spiral to one side into a wall-mounted drinking fountain. There was a flash and a pop from the collusion, then her body crumpled and fell on to the wooden floor.

Max brought her to her feet and noticed a tear in her blouse, beneath which he could see a small rent with exposed wiring in her otherwise smooth abdomen. Despite the damage, her legs worked to keep her upright as he lead her otherwise rigid form in the direction they had come from, passing Megan who was still busily fellating the headless body of Jacob.

“You really don’t need to keep doing that,” Max advised in passing.

“Mmmhffffuuu<bzzzzzz>!” Megan replied, showing no sign of abandoning her oral fixation.

As they neared the pool, Max carefully urged the frozen Lucy into a jog, then a run. When the doors leading to his intended destination loomed before them, he activated the device and ran ahead, taunting, “And here I thought you were on the track team!”

She blinked in confusion, but then poured on speed, blasting past him and through the door before coming to a stunned halt at the edge of the Academy’s swimming pool.

Staring at her and then Max was the entire women’s swim team, clustered at the shallow end. Every one of them wore an identical dark-blue spandex one-piece, their hair tucked beneath white swim-caps, conforming their appearances in a way that reinforced the idea they had all been stamped out in a factory somewhere.

That wasn’t to say he couldn’t tell them apart, though — he picked out Holly from her more enhanced curves, the waifish Millie with her perpetual look of boredom, Amelia and her freckles, Poppy’s impressive height… Max grinned at the class, muttering, “This was definitely the right choice.”

“Lucy!” a voice snapped, and his attention turned to the PE instructor, Miss Ashley. She was a tanned, slender woman, shorter than most of her students, whose low-zipped athletic jacket and white tank-top allowed a splendid view of her scrumptious bust. Knowing what she was, he now wondered if some sort of error during her fabrication had led to her chest’s… overdevelopment? He remembered that when she had given that lecture on pool safety and struggled to get the lifering over her chest, he looked around to his classmates, expecting to share a laugh — but not one of them so much as batted an eye. Maybe none of the other robots saw her that way because they weren’t programmed to — maybe he was the only one who registered those stupendous tits.

Miss Ashley shifted in her green trainers irritably, the supple calves above them wrapped tight in tall athletic socks. Then came her bare knees and toned thighs, the exposed skin ending in her tiny gym shorts. “You’re late!”

Lucy’s processors were apparently still struggling to put all of this together as she stammered, “Th-the Head-d-d-master…”

“And you, Max!” Miss Ashley continued, her bright blue eyes narrowing at him. “Truant and flouting the laws of the Academy!”

Max smiled and said, “Miss Ashley, if you’ll permit me: I have an alternate lesson plan that I’d like to present to the class. And you are invited to participate as well, of course.”

Miss Ashley looked shocked. “Max, the amount of trouble you are already in ''pales'' in comparison to what will happen if you do not turn around ''this very instant'' and return-“

During this exchange, Lucy was busily undressing herself. Max’s attention had been divided between her and Miss Ashley, but he gave the malfunctioning premier student commanded his full notice when she pulled her top off and the shirt snagged on her damaged abdomen. Encountering resistance, Lucy pulled harder on her blouse, finally managing to rip it off, but not without widening the hole in her side, revealing the bundles of machinery and electronics within. Down to her bra and panties, the vacant-eyed fembot teetered briefly on her feet before executing a half-dive, half-fall into the pool, while her coach interrupted her scolding of Max to exclaim, “Lucy, what are you doing?!”

There was a sharp pop when she hit the water and the girls around her instantly began to shudder, arms stiff, eyes wide as smoke wafted between clenched teeth. A chain reaction spread throughout the team as every student stiffened and spasmed when she was caught in electrical bursts from one of her failing neighbors.

“Dammit, Lucy!” Max exclaimed as he watched his simple, humble dreams of a team-wide orgy going up in smoke. Amidst the symphony of twitching servos and frying electrical components, the towering Poppy was the first to go, her impressive height reduced significantly when her strangely smirking head blasted off like a champagne cork, landing with a splash on the far side of the pool.

The diminutive gossip Ruby slumped underwater and was then obscured by a sudden eruption of bubbles, her detached head resurfacing while slowly drawling, “Yoouuu won’t believvvve what happened at swimmmm classssszzzzz…”

Millie, that morose girl with the low bangs, finally wore an expression of something other than bored disinterest as she grappled the curvaceous Holly who had been attempting to hoist herself out of the pool. Holly fell forward on to her bust with a wet smack, bent over the edge of the pool while her legs remained in the water. After a muffled blast from under her swim cap, Millie’s head catapulted into the her teammates posterior and then detonated, and Holly gave a startled gasp before following suit, spraying her swim instructor and Max with sparks and fragments of rubber and plastic as her body rocked on its compressed cleavage.

The exuberant Amelia managed to vault completely out of the pool and strode toward her stunned coach. Electricity shot across her dripping-wet form, her body affected by soft rippling waves that subtly altered her physiology, most notably in the cresting of her breasts beneath the skin-tight spandex and the slight filling in of her backside as the suit’s lining pinched deeper into her softening edges.

“Miss Ashely!” Amelia said excitedly as her nipples budded beneath a suit swelling with cleavage. “C-c-cannn I b-b-be excused? ''<bzzzzzzt!>'' I think-think-think IIIIII-“

“You’re excused!” her coach hurriedly interjected. With a vacuous smile, Amelia spun on her heel and began an unsteady march to the door, while the last of her classmates broke down in the pool. Max wondered if she alone might actually make it out as she planted her legs firmly before the door, swung her arm out in an exaggerated gesture, and swung it back to grip the door handle. At that moment, two distinct tendrils of lightning crept up from her ankles until they joined in a flickering tongue of electricity between her thighs, and fused into a bright blue star before disappearing with a pulse when they met her groin. Her round buttocks plumped and then clenched, seeming to devour the back of her swimsuit and transforming it into a taught thong as she gasped, “Oooh!” Her body suddenly flared with color, glowing incandescent for a moment before she burst to apart in a rapid succession of sharp electrical explosions, falling into a buzzing, smoking tangle of limbs like a discarded mannequin.

The robotic girl’s swim team was no more, the ruined components of most of its members at the bottom of an electrified pool. Max sighed and looked up at Miss Ashely, who seemed to be slowly regaining her composure.

“Max-“ she began, her face softening into an assured, confiding smile.

“Let me guess — I need to see the Headmaster?”

“Yes, Max. He can explain-“

“You see, that’s ''not'' really what I’m after. I find that as time goes on, I don’t really ''care'' about an explanation.”

Ashely blinked, her smile faltering briefly. “Well, whatever it is that you ''do'' desire, the Headmaster-“

He cut her off again. “The Headmaster hasn’t been pretty fucking off-target with my desires thus far.”

Her smile darkened, her voice hardening as she said, “So… you wish to defy the will of someone who has complete control over this entire facility, yourself included. How do you expect this to end for you should you upset him?”

“But why go to see some stodgy administrator when I’m having so much ''fun''?” he asked, readying the device. “Here, this should help you to empathize with my present situation.” He punched the button and Miss Ashley froze with a skeptical look on her face. Max pulled off her thin athletic jacket, her plump cleavage practically bursting through her fitted white tank-top. Max gave her awe-inspiring breasts a hands-on appraisal and found them unusually taught and springy, adding credence to his ‘glitched-tits’ theory. Sweat was now glistening across their rounded surface, and he used the device to turn her back on. The robotic instructor let out a sharp gasp, her fingers jerking to her chest and then shying away as she steadied her gaze on Max. “You… you need to see…”

“A bit more fine-tuning,” Max muttered, freezing her again. He brushed her hips, sliding his hands over the smooth fabric of her minimal exercise shorts, tracing the curve of her well-formed bottom, slipping his hand beneath to feel her silky skin growing warmer at his touch. He delivered a light squeeze and experienced a swell of warmth. Were her components trying to mimic a human response, or simply venting excess heat as he overloaded them with a situation she was not programmed to handle?

This time when she was unfrozen, she gave a low moan and staggered into Max, her hand raking across his chest. “M-m-maxxx…” she whispered, “y-you need to s-seeee…” She hesitated, then tore off her tank top. Before her buoyant tits could settle from their violent liberation, she was on him, her mouth crushed against his as she attacked his trousers. The moment he had worked her skimpy shorts down to her knees, she gave a limber flex of a toned leg and was free of them, still wearing her dainty green trainers and socks. With athletic poise she speared herself upon his raging erection (whose solidity shocked even him, given its recent activities). She gave a digitally fluctuating moan, and he could feel an electrical prickling as her tight sex forced its way along his shaft.

As the two tumbled on to a rubber exercise mat, Max couldn’t help but provoke a reaction by remarking, “You, know you were right — I really ought to see the Headmaster now.”

Her teeth clenched, lights behind her blue eyes sparking. Her rhythmic thrusting ground to a shuddering halt with her heated pelvis resting against his, and she managed to stammer, “Y-y-yesss, g-g-go to the He-he-headmasterrrr-“

He gripped her tits and said, “Then again, I ''am'' enjoying myself…”

With a strangely reverberating groan, she pushed his hands against her overripe breasts and it slipped between her twin melons drenched in simulated sweat. “Th-then fuck meeee!” she whimpered, the engine of her hips sputtering to life as he fondled her apparently hypersensitive bust, moans of rapturous pleasure escaping from her with their every caress.

“But I ''have'' kept him waiting quite a while…”

Her once smoothly pumping ass bucked in violent shudders before she stopped halfway along his length. Smoke rose from her ears and electricity flitted over her spasming features, her brown pony-tail inexplicably pointing up and kinking like a query mark as if to highlight her confusion, her flashing eyes straying in random directions. “No-yes-yes-no, y-you mussszzzzt-“

“Then again, he could probably stand to wait a bit more…”

As her machinery fought contradicting instructions, her quivering pelvis convulsed along his cock in completely arrhythmic thrusts. Her face flushed unnaturally pink as she took on a look of complete confusion, eyes growing wide as she panted, “System errorrrr corrruptionnnnn- “

“But knowing that he wouldn’t like it if-”

With a noise that was equal parts exasperated moan and sharp mechanical squeal, the back of Miss Ahsley’s head exploded, her flushed face looking at him with a delirious, absent smile while her hips gave a final thrust, then she eased forward in a gentle collapse across him. Her steadily firming bust was near frictionless with synthetic sweat as she slid off of his chest and rolled to one side. Glancing at her he was met by the back of her head, an uneven protrusion of metal and sparking wire.

“Well…” Max muttered, staring at the off-white expanse of the pool’s ceiling while Miss Ashley’s robotic body twitched faintly with a whir, “…now what?”

When the question went unanswered by his own thoughts or any other party, he got dressed and strolled back down the hall where he found Megan still on her knees. Jacob’s headless body convulsed with a small electrical surge at every movement of Megan’s mouth.

“I admire your dedication,” Max remarked.

Megan gave a muffled moan, but remained at her present task. Max looked around, wondering if and when there would be another ‘summons’ after the two prefects had failed to retrieve him…. and what form that summons might take.

“You know, I think I ''will'' go and see the Headmaster,” Max announced.

Megan popped off of Jacob’s cock and gave an upbeat, “OK!” Released from her care, Jacob’s body popped and fizzed for a moment before crumpling into a smoldering heap. With a trembling rattle in her knees, the fembot rose to her feet and began a faltering shuffle toward the Headmaster’s office, glancing over her shoulder to beckon Max with a crooked smile before her head snapped forward once more. He matched the pace of the teetering robot, who took his hand to steady her lopsided gait.

“How w-was the swimmmm team?” she asked, and Max thought he heard the hint of a suggestion in her voice.

“Oh… not quite what I’d hoped for,” he sighed. “And at this rate, the Academy is going to run out of students by the week’s end.”

With a sudden tick of her neck followed by a much gentler motion, she inclined her head on his shoulder, “In the end, ''we’re'' ex-x-pendabllle,” she said lazily. “''You’re'' the one he wants to p-p-preserve.”

“Well,” Max said, eying the door to the headmaster’s office ahead of them. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

==Part Four==

The moment Max stepped into the office, he heard a voice far more firm than polite state, “Please, have a seat.” It was Miss Brookes, the Headmaster's well-coiffed personal assistant, behind an impressively large and conspicuously empty desk. Beyond the *antique* leather sofa she had indicated, the whole room was furnished matching weathered but well cared for dark wood furniture. Given the recent exposure of the Academy’s facade, Max had to wonder if this all wasn't as fake as the blonde secretary fixing him with her impassive blue eyes.

Because he had had little interaction with the headmaster, he had had little interaction with her –but he had always admired the Headmaster's apparent tastes - sleek and tanned and wearing pristine whites, he was always aware of her presence from the brisk click of her heels as she moved through the halls on her errands. Despite the capricious authority she represented, any anxiety upon seeing her was offset by her flawless beauty, her golden hair perfectly parted, her trim curves a captivating silhouette beneath her spotless white skirt and blouse. Of all the robotic faculty, she seemed the apex of a finely tuned machine, every movement and statement made with no question of intent.

In stark contrast to the smoothly operating secretary, the buzzing and sputtering Megan followed Max, falling against him as one of her jittering legs gave out. She emitted a digitized "Oops!" her eyes eventually swiveling to meet his from behind tangles of honey-blonde curls. “I think I might be sick-dizzy-sleepy-''horrrrrny''!" she exclaimed in rapid succession, leaning heavily on his arm.

"Megan, you are to report to the nurse immediately," Miss Brookes stated.

"Already did!" Megan chirped as Max eased her on to the couch where she slumped awkwardly in her rumpled uniform. He gave her a reaffirming pat before walking straight to the Headmaster's door. Miss Brookes quickly stood and blocked his access, reiterating, "The Headmaster will see you when he is ready- until then, you must take a seat."

Max looked at the stern secretary's unyielding expression and smiled. "I think both the headmaster and I have kept each other waiting long enough." He thumbed the control in his pocket to immobilize her, and she gave a slight shudder - but when he tried to push her aside, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully.

"You will wait," she stated as she lead him by his pained wrist to the couch. Though she was obviously not frozen by Max’s device, her movements were stiffer than before, lacking her former graceful efficiency, and accompanied by the audible whining of servos. He tried the remote again, but to no effect - she forced him down on to the couch, glowered at him as if daring him to try something, and gave a rigid pivot to return to her desk.

"Plan B, I suppose," he muttered, producing the syringe full of 'compliance' from his jacket pocket and thumbing the cap free. As she stepped away, Max jabbed the needle through her skirt and into the tantalizing curve of her posterior. Once more she stiffened, her machinery emitting a growing buzzing sound.

"Show me to the headmaster if you please," Max said, nearly sinking the needle in the bin. Megan let out a sympathetic coo of disappointment, then a profusion of sparks.

"Error," Miss Brookes stated plainly, turning to him with a blank expression. "Priority conflict, corruption in decision matrix."

"Well, maybe don't worry your pretty little head," Max said, stepping toward the door. "I'll see myself in."

With a chorus of mechanical whirring, Miss Brookes put herself between him and the door, placed her fingers upon the handle, and froze. "Error," she said, her head twitching, thin wisps of smoke beginning to rise from beneath her blonde hair.

Max put his hand over hers, receiving a jolt of electricity, and forced her to turn the handle - but just as the door began to open, the malfunctioning secretary jerked it shut and slammed herself into Max, her body feverishly hot.

"Perhaps I c-can get you somethinnnng while you wait-t-t?" she buzzed, her tanned cleavage heaving despite a distinct lack of breath.

"The door, Miss Brookes," Max commanded, though he could feel his resolve weakening as she hitched up her skirt, a white thong tucked between her bronzed cheeks, marred by a small pink dot where the needle had struck.

"Error!" she groaned, collapsing into him, her body now slick with artificial perspiration, her white clothes clinging to her wet curves. "Unable to follow priority command, p-please issue new directivvvvvve!" She was panting now, her hands tugging at her thong as she pleaded, "Max, would you n-not preferrr to-"

Suddenly, the soaked and smoking fembot released her grip upon Max as Megan buried her face into the secretary's ass, tearing her thong off and plunging her tongue into the stunned robot's pussy. She immediately began to convulse, electricity creeping around her formerly perfect hair, stammering, "Mmmmmmegan, you are interfeeeering with violation in decision you must please to nnnurse for immediate dis-dis-mantling!"

"Good, isn't she?" Max remarked, stepping back toward the headmaster's door.

"Stop!" Miss Brookes barked, "You must waiiiii-" her command ended in a wail as Megan plunged deeper, rising on her knees to lift Miss Brookes into the air. The secretary writhed, suspended upon the schoolgirl's face, her tanned legs kicking helplessly as her failing machinery squealed in protest.

Max stepped into the Headmaster's office. There, behind a polished oak desk and surrounded by shelves neatly lined with leather-bound books was a tan, blond gentleman in a crisp white suit. His handsome, square-jawed face was unperturbed by the malfunction-laden cries of distress and pleasure from his secretary in the other room, and similarly betrayed no emotion as Max approached. He simply closed the ledger before him and set aside his pen before folding his hands on his desk.

"Headmaster," Max said evenly.

“Max,” the Headmaster responded with a hint of disdain. “You’ve shown yourself to be quite obstinate today.”

Max gave a shrug. “You wanted to see me-” A muffled explosion from the adjacent room caused Max to flinch, and he finished, “Well, here I am.”

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. “I suspect you think you’re entitled to an explanation.”

“If you like.”

The Headmaster blinked, which Max chose to read as him being completely gobsmacked. “So you think you have all the answers?”

“I’m the only human in a school full of robots, and someone who either likes me or doesn’t like you taught me how to make this-“ he flashed the device “-to upend all your hard work.”

For a brief moment, the Headmaster pursed his lips. “And you find this sufficient? How incurious of you.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d believe a single word of explanation from you, so let’s get to what matters – either I’ve compromised whatever it is you have going on here or you still have use for me and you’re willing to deal. If it’s the former, then I’ll be on my way-“

“To where, exactly?”

“Whatever’s over those walls.”

The Headmaster smirked.

“Or I suppose you’ll imprison me or kill me or ''whatever''. But if you want to make a deal, I’d like to hear your offer.”

There was a long pause as the Headmaster scrutinized Max, his slender, perfectly manicured fingers drumming exactly once across his desk. “I would propose you return to your studies and graduate.”

Max snorted. “I’m going to need a new history teacher.”

“You need not fret - Miss Belle will be ready for tomorrow’s lesson, with no recollection of today’s mischief.”

Something about the utter lack of concern, the ''assuredness'' in the Headmaster’s voice really ate at Max – but he was damned if he was going to show it. “Fine. Excellent. First thing in the morning, then.”

“Max, I don’t think you’re committing to this in good faith.”

It took every ounce of Max’s self-control not to snap – this ''had'' to be a deliberate provocation. ''This man'' wanted to talk about ''good faith'' after lying to him for his entire life?

The Headmaster continued in a voice like satin. “It would help to ease my suspicion if you would ask for something in return.”

“Ma-“. Max stopped himself. He was surprised at how reflexively her name came to his lips – Maya, his first real girlfriend, the one who had sacrificed herself for him… Or, as he had come to realize, Maya had been his robot girlfriend, sent to him when he began to stray from his path, and who had ultimately set him back on it more firmly than any threat or reward ever could. But despite all that, he still longed to see her again. And this was all likely the design of this smug prick sitting across from him.

“What was that?” the Headmaster quietly asked.

''Fuck you, Headmaster'' was what he thought, but it came out, “Megan.”

There was a slight tic in the Headmaster’s brow. “What about Megan?”

“I want her to remember today’s ''mischief''.”

Max felt himself once more under the Headmaster’s scrutiny. “Why don’t we just make her your girlfriend. It would be easier to do that than-“

“Look, I’ll be there on time for history class, and for every class right up until I graduate as your diligent pupil with perfect marks for attendance. I’ll do my homework, I’ll press my uniform, and I’ll have lights out at nine pm sharp. Here-“ he tossed the remote device on the Headmaster’s desk. “But Megan ''remembers''.”

The headmaster took the device, turning it over in his hands. “Very well, Max.” He carefully deposited the device in a door that opened and shut with a whisper. “Megan will ‘remember’.”

Uncertain in this victory, Max fidgeted in his chair, while the Headmaster seemed content to sit in silence. Unable to bear it any longer, Max stood.

“I shall see you at graduation,” the Headmaster stated with certainty, opening the ledger in front of him. Max made his way to leave the room, pulling open the door to find the headless wreck of Miss Brookes sparking just beyond. Megan sat just behind her on her haunches, her face and hair plastered with lubricant and robotic fluids, her uniform a total mess, as she stared into the distance with a banal smile.

“You’re also going to need a new secretary,” Max grumbled.

“You’ve had a difficult morning,” the Headmaster coolly replied. “Why not take the rest of the day off.”

Megan’s attention snapped to Max with a whir of machinery, her smile broadening. “H-hello, Mmmax!”

Stooping down, he lifted her to her feet, but her knees seemed to buckle whenever he stopped supporting her.

“Th-the Headmaster c-can help me-me-me!” she said in cheery stammer.

Max ducked down and slid his arm behind her legs, hoisting her in a bridal carry. She was lighter than when he first tried to move her in the shower, and he was able to bring her out of the Headmaster’s office and take a steady pace towards his own dormitory.

The Academy was empty, Max’s footsteps echoing through the deserted halls while Megan’s legs idly twitched and whirred, her bare thighs warm and against his forearms. “Wh-where are we g-going?” Megan asked with a slight giggle.

“My room.”

“M-Max!” she said, her face in shock. “I c-can’t b-b-be in the boy’s d-dormitory!” Even in her deteriorated state, even knowing she was wholly artificial, the coy look she gave him with her honey-colored ringlets spilling over her half-lidded eyes sent his heart racing. “What are you p-p-planninnnng?”

''To fuck your silicon brains out?'' Only that wasn’t it. “Megan,” he said, surprised that her name caught in his throat. “I just… I need someone to know what happened today, someone I can talk to, even if… even if she’s just a robot.”

“I’m n-not a ro-bot-bot-bot, Max!” Megan laughed, sparks trickling from her head.

“Today was… You genuinely helped me today, and you’re in this sorry state because of me, and I don’t even know if it makes sense to… to feel guilt, or gratitude, or even… like…”

Megan kissed him, the feeling electric – literally – with a strange tang from the fluids left by Miss Brookes. It felt both artificial and spontaneous and he realized there was no way they were making it all the way to his room. Breaking from her lips to find ''somewhere'' for the them, he settled on the teacher’s lounge and fumbled his way through the door, still holding her in his arms and returning her kisses with matched fervor. Stumbling through an obstacle course of chairs and tables, he finally collapsed with her on to a couch. Already her hands were at his trousers, his in her blouse, and soon both were shed, followed by the undergarments beneath. With his kisses trailing down her neck to her ample breasts humming with an electric buzz, he entered her bare, sweltering sex beneath her tweed skirt.

Her voice skipped in pitch, fluctuating synthetically as he thrust into her again and again, his hands squeezing breasts that felt strangely tacky from the intense heat of her malfunctioning body. Servos in her legs whirred uselessly as her entire chassis was rocked by Max’s unbridled enthusiasm, what little control she had being channeled into meeting his relentless hips with bucking of her own. “Alll forrrr y-youuu, M-max!” she squealed, smoke rising from her trembling lips. “All f-forrr – ''Ahhhh!''” Warmth and wetness surged around Max, a string of electric bursts erupting inside her, patches of her tanned skin searing with light. He brought his lips from her tits to her smoking mouth, ignoring the acrid taste to kiss her deeply as he throbbed in explosive release, his hands squeezing her irrepressibly round ass while the bundled artificial musculature spasmed beneath its smooth synthetic surface. A sudden powerful shock from her made him see stars, leaving him tensed and numb.

Gradually sensation came back to him through the feel of her soft and warm body, her thoroughly drenched sex, her itchy, rumpled skirt, her damp honey curls. Her body twitched and hummed, and he couldn’t tell if the occasional moan and sigh from her was a sign of her cognizance or just the malfunctioning vocalizations of a broken robotic schoolgirl. He could empathize either way, feeling incapable of saying much of anything, his consciousness not worth the trouble of holding on to…

Max awoke alone in his own bed, a glance at his clock telling him it was Monday morning – again? That couldn’t have been a dream - he remembered too much, it was simply too lucid for it ''not'' to have been real, and yet – robots? Ridiculous. He realized he didn’t have a lot of time before history class, and used the mindless routine of getting ready as a way to put off the impossible thoughts swirling in his head.

Crossing the yard, he avoided eye contact with his fellow classmates, and none pressed him on his sullen mood – at least until spied Megan waiting on the steps of the main entrance. She was lovely as ever, her hair neatly pulled back, her uniform fitted perfectly, her movement graceful and without any accompanying mechanical sound as she descended the steps to meet him. “You seem to be in a mood,” she said with a wry smile.

Max could only stare at first, unable to formulate the question. “Did we… are you…?”

“Oh dear,” Megan said, pulling him out of the stream of students entering the building, drawing a few curious glances at this uncharacteristic fraternization. “Were you so adamant that ''I'' remember everything just because you couldn’t be arsed to?”

He felt giddy, light headed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her. He leaned in, and she gave him a swat across the cheek. “Are you daft?” she hissed. “We’ve got class! And ''you'' made a commitment.”

“Yeah, but… we could… I mean, if this is all for my benefit, why do ''you'' need to go to gym class?”

“Why not?” she said, giving his reddened cheek a gentle pat. “You knowing I’m there should help you imagine me in my tight little shorts~”

Max swallowed, trying to find the ideal opening argument for them to skip class and fuck in the hedge row when the five-minute bell sounded.

“That’s me,” Megan said, glancing around at the now empty yard before leaning in to give him a small kiss on his cheek. “Get to class. And try not to break Miss Belle again!” She spun on her heel to leave, slipping from his grip as she sprinted toward the gym.

He watched her run with an aching desire to chase her – it was easy to imagine how the ensuing moments would play out, and to extrapolate them into another day of debauchery, regardless of any promises made to the Headmaster. But beyond that… he didn’t know. And if he followed the path set before him, the one he had pledged himself to, he ''still'' didn’t know what would happen… or, even more troubling, what he ''wanted'' to happen.

Max dutifully climbed the stairs and made sure he was in his seat with a sharpened pencil in hand by the ringing of the final bell. Miss Belle was soon repeated the opening of yesterday’s lecture on the history of the Empire’s conquests, and Max began scribbling plans for a new remote device of his own design.

Nihilistic

2022-08-05T15:05:23Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Part three */

=Nihilistic=
==Part one==
Surrounded by an abrupt silence, Max looked about him in disbelief, then back to the device in his hands, a rough amalgam of wires, radio parts, and a component of unknown origin. After fruitless experimentation with the device in what little personal time he had, checking and re-checking that he had followed those mysterious instructions to the letter, an idle press of its solitary button during class had finally revealed its function — it could stop time.

With a faint ‘click’, everything in the classroom, his fellow students, their history teacher, Miss Belle, all of them froze, motionless, not so much as a breath stirring them. Nervously, he pressed the button again; to his great relief, time was immediately restored. Miss Belle continuing to scratch upon the chalkboard the various names and dates that chronicled the collapse of nations that had once been The Empire’s feckless enemies, the harsh sound underscored by the faint rasp of two-dozen pencils as her students dutifully copied everything down.

Miss Belle seemed to sense his distraction and turned her imperious gaze upon him. “Max, do you have something more important to do than — what is that?”

He quickly brought the device beneath his desk, but Miss Belle was already advancing quickly, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her tone becoming increasingly stern, she repeated, “I ''asked'' you, what is-“ he thumbed the button, halting her progress mid-stride - but he noted that instead of immediately freezing, she finished her step, both feet firmly on the ground before she stopped completely.

He looked around the room again and realized the clock still ticked away seconds — outside the window, a breeze stirred through the trees hedging the Academy’s sprawling manicured grounds, grey clouds moving in the distance. It wasn’t freezing time, he realized, just the people around him. He carefully put the device on the floor, took up a pencil and a sharpener, and triggered the button with the toe of his shoe.

“-that thing you’re holding?” Miss Belle resumed, striding up to his desk. He presented his hands, and she seemed deeply troubled what she saw, her dark lashes fluttering in confusion. “I… pencil…?”

Max said nothing, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from seeing his beautiful yet unfailingly harsh instructor so bewildered. “Yes, well — this time is for taking notes, not sharpening pencils.” She pivoted and strode back to the board. “You will remain after class and prepare a stock of pencils for yourself and your classmates by sharpening my entire supply-“

He clicked the button with his toe, then leisurely stood up and walked past his frozen fellow students, humming the chorus of the Empire’s bombastic anthem to himself. Rummaging through her impeccably organized cabinet, he found her ridiculously vast stockpile of pencils and pulled every box. Thinking that he should do more than simply throw them in the class’s bin, he returned to his desk to claim the device and stepped into the hall.

''You’ve got a bloody [b]time machine[/b] — or something of the sort — and you’re wasting it on pencils?'' He was, after all, an adult now, along with every other student at this school, all on the cusp of “graduation” — and this current use of his newfound powers seemed incredibly puerile.

“Why not the girl’s locker room?” he said with a start, and began heading toward the gym, tossing the pencils at his earliest convenience.

Moving through the dimly lit dark wood halls of the Academy, Max could not help but feel on-edge. Its many rules were strictly enforced, every student’s time tightly controlled, going back as far as his earliest memories of childhood here — if he were caught out of class, unable to explain himself, he would lose what precious free time he had, possibly meals as well.

But how would he be caught? He had stopped time, hadn’t he? As he passed by a classroom door, he cautiously glanced through the window to see students intently taking notes, untouched by the device’s effects. What sort of range did it have? Would the stoppage ‘wear off’ in Miss Belle’s classroom? As other questions about its use and limitations came to mind, he had to face the most obvious ones — what was it ''for''? And who had wanted him to have it?

Two nights ago, Max found a folded sheet of paper and a wafer-thin component tucked into an engineering textbook. The paper was covered in impeccably written directions on how to construct some sort of transmitter, how to attach the component to the finished product. There was no hint as to what it might do or who had created the schematics or the tiny component itself, but these were not great concerns to Max. Obviously they had intended for him to have it… and in the absence of instruction, they presumably were leaving its use to his own judgment.

Arriving at the girl’s locker room, he considered that this might be a test from one of his instructors, and that ogling his female co-eds in the shower was not likely to earn him passing marks. But this was not how tests at the Academy were conducted; there was never any room for creativity, only the rote memorization and regurgitation of whatever subject they were studying. Looking at the clock, he believed that class C would be getting ready for P.E. Before he could give any real thought to the moral implications of his actions, Max hit the button on the device and stepped through the door.

The scene was less engaging that he would have thought, the tableau of students frozen in their underwear far more clinical than titillating. Girls he had known throughout his years at the Academy were in various stages of undress — but they all seemed so… inert. All of them staring blankly forward, methodically getting out of their uniforms and into their gym clothes. He supposed it was silly to think he would find a private show full of girls in pin-up poses, but this…

Following the sound of running water, he rounded a corner and immediately forgot to breathe. There stood the surpassingly lovely Megan, frozen in the steaming shower. Shining rivulets ran over her statue-still body, tributaries collecting in streams that flowed over her pert curves — she would not have looked out of place as the marble centerpiece in a fountain of frolicking naiads. She held her golden hair back with both hands, facing the stream, her lips slightly parted, water overflowing from her mouth…

Upon registering that last detail, Max rushed to her in a panic — were her lungs flooded with water!? When he unfroze her, would she drown? Was she drowning already? He grabbed her beneath her raised arms and pulled her free of the shower, finding her heavier than anticipated — his foot slipped on the wet tile, and he dropped her before falling himself on to the hard floor.

There was a sharp pain in his tailbone, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Megan had fallen on her side, still locked in that nymphean pose — she seemed unharmed, except her face was… ''askew''. As if it were a mask on crooked, only partially concealing something beneath, something silver and glinting. Max leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in this ‘gap’ between her face and her head. ''Was that… machinery?''

A sudden bright burst of electricity flared from her temple as her blue eyes snapped open, staring directly at him — Max gave a startled cry, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the locker room, halfway back to his classroom before he managed to stop himself. He realized his device was not stopping time it all — it was an on / off switch for robots. Oh, and by the way, just one more tidbit — everyone he had known his entire life was apparently a machine.

He wondered if he ought to be outraged or upset or if he was simply going insane — for in truth, he felt none of these things at all, but rather, a powerful curiosity. In a lot of ways, the Academy made more sense to him now that before he knew he was surrounded by robots. Of ''course'' his classmates could effortlessly breeze through subjects that seemed designed specifically for his torment: ''they'' were just following programming, ''he'' actually had to learn this stuff. But why? For whose benefit? ''Why go through all this trouble?''

Max tried to think if there was anyone he might suspect was human. There was the nebulous headmaster, the authority he had never actually seen, who seemed to exist more as a vengeful deity than an actual person. Perhaps the transfer student, Maya Green, his former girlfriend and partner in crime, right up until her expulsion.

He had found her so unlike everyone else in this place, spontaneous, willing to take risks… affectionate! But he had to consider that she had been a robot too, one programmed to serve as a cautionary tale instead of another perfect student to emulate. If so, it had worked, hadn’t it? When they were both caught committing the grave offense of trying to escape the school grounds, Maya had pleaded desperately to the Disciplinarian on his behalf, tears streaming down her pretty, freckled face from those dark, almond-shaped eyes. She claimed it had all been her idea, that she had pressured Max into it, refuting Max’s insistence that he was the one behind it all. In the end, she was expelled while he was allowed to remain — and before she left, never to be seen again, Maya drew from him a promise her that he would not squander her sacrifice, that he would stay out of trouble, if only for her sake. A promise he had kept, to this day.

''To hell with it,'' he decided. ''Now it’s time to play''.

Max returned to the frozen diorama of his classroom, carefully scrutinizing Miss Belle and his fellow classmates. Even knowing they were all machines, he just couldn’t see it. He went in for a closer look at Miss Belle, her soft brown eyes staring straight ahead, her red lips parted mid-syllable, her mahogany hair in a bun wound almost as tightly as she was — but no matter how closely he looked or where he touched her cold, satin skin, he could not discern where her face might ‘detach’ in the way Megan’s had.

He idly undid the buttons on her blouse and parted the white fabric — beneath he saw the creamy hemispheres of her bountiful chest, cupped in a floral print bra, frilled in lace — but all of it unmistakably human. A thought struck Max, and he pulled off her blouse completely, then returned to his desk and activated the transmitter. Miss Belle continued right where she had left off, discussing his punishment, “-so that no one else will need to spend time fiddling at their desk instead of taking notes. Now then…” Miss Belle picked up the chalk and resumed her lecture, apparently oblivious of her missing apparel. He glanced at his fellow classmates, noticing brief flashes of confusion on their faces of each as they looked up to see far more of their teacher than they were accustomed — and just as quickly, every one of them seemed to accept the situation and resume their note-taking.

Max froze the room again and approached Miss Belle, unfastening the grey tweed pencil skirt that hugged her hips and offered tantalizing glimpses to the exquisite form of her round backside. Sliding the skirt down, he carefully took her ankle and lifted — she cooperated, balancing on one foot, then the other as he stepped her out of the grey fabric. Her matching floral panties were a snug fit against her pale, perfect rump, and he gave her cheek an appraising squeeze — her soft skin was initially cold to the touch, but warmed under his caress, pink blossoming beneath the smooth, fair surface. Not wanting to get carried away, he hastily disposed of the skirt and returned to his desk, activating the device once more.

Just as before, she continued her lecture in her underwear, her forceful gestures at the chalkboard sending delightful tremors through her voluptuous form. His classmates had additional difficulty when they noticed their instructor’s new state of undress, and not all of them recovered. To his immediate right, Grace (programmed, as near as he could tell, to be a condescending know-all) seemed to be having particular trouble. Her cute head wobbled strangely upon her neck, her typically-smug expression now screwed-up in confusion.

Max leaned close to her and whispered, “Where did her skirt go?”

Her hazel eyes darted between him and their teacher, her head-tremors worsening. “M-M-Miss Belle,” Grace stammered, ineffectually brushing aside the auburn bangs that kept falling across her eyes as her head shook. “I-I-IIIIIII fffffeeeelllll… funnyyyyy…” She took on a digitized tremulo whenever her voice caught on a vowel, her pink her lips not quite synchronized with her words.

The teacher turned and looked at her favorite pupil with distaste. “Well, go to the nurse!” Surveying the rest of the class and evidently seeing something she did not like in her students, she asked, “What is going on with all of you?”

“We’re all just wondering why you’re in your underwear,” Max said calmly. A few barks of artificial laughter sounded from the class, but were sharply cut off by Miss Belle’s glower. He noticed ticks spreading across the room while Grice rose, moving stiffly yet quickly toward the door.

Miss Belle glanced down at herself and gasped in surprise, backing against the wall while doing her best to cover her immodesty with her hands. “I d-d-do not understannnnnd-“ she groaned, looking about helplessly. A moment later her head snapped sharply forward and she straightened, relaxing her arms at her sides, crisply announcing, “Class dismissed.”

The students rose, some with great difficulty, colliding with one another in their awkward shuffle out the door. A few annoyed remarks of, “Watch where you’re going,” or “Excuse you,” could be heard, but they were all delivered in flat, impersonal tones. With the last of them gone, Miss Belle sat at her desk, staring blankly ahead.

In the ludicrously prolonged silence that followed, Max couldn’t help but crack a smile. Finally, he prompted her with, “Miss Belle, am I dismissed?” he said.

“''You'' have quite a bit of sharpening to do,” she proclaimed, suddenly animate as she strode to the supply cabinet, opening the drawer that had held the pencils — she stared blankly at the empty space for several moments, before wordlessly pushing it shut.

“Trouble, Miss Belle?” Max asked, casually approaching her.

“That is not your concern,” she said flatly. “And you are still to be reprimanded for your disruptive behavior. You… you will… you…”

“I have an idea or two,” he said with a smirk.

“And I’ll have no more of this cheek from you!” she insisted her elegant features narrowing in suspicion.

Max hit the button and once more she froze, her cross expression preserved. ”Miss Belle, you’re so tense!” he exclaimed. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Sliding his hand into the cup of her bra, he fondled the softness beneath, feeling a spreading warmth, her nipple hardening visibly even through the padded cup. “Better already!” he remarked, then slipped his hand down the front of her panties, gliding through the tuft of hair, fingers caressing and then moving within her chilled labia — in an instant, he could feel heat coming from her, her face suddenly flush with a rosy glow. He withdrew his hand and unfroze her.

“''<Hahhhhh!>''” she gasped, chest heaving, one of her hands taking hold of the breast he had just released, the other cupping lightly over her groin. She held it there, trembling, before a finger shyly pressed in against the fabric of her panties, soliciting another gasp. Max approached put his arms around her, taking hold of her rump, reacquainting himself with her familiar softness with a tender squeeze.

She stared at him in stunned surprise, her red lips gaping as she struggled to find her voice. Suddenly, her head snapped rigidly into place, her expression resetting to its customary haughtiness as she said, “Come with me.”

She broke from him and walked stiffly to her desk, then turned to face him, stating, “Take off your uniform.”

“If you insist,” Max said with an exaggerated sigh, and was soon naked before her.

“Now, remove my undergarments.”

He slid her panties down her shapely legs, taking the opportunity to retrace those elegant lines with his fingertips as he stood. She ignored this bit of foreplay, spun on her heel, and bent over her desk, brazenly presenting her porcelain white derriere and still-flushed sex. “Make love to me,” she demanded airily. “If you are able to perform to even the most modest of standards, we shall consider your punishment served.”

With another forced sigh, Max entered her slowly, her body tensing at the introduction. He took hold of her cool, white hips, rapidly bringing her to warmth and color as her cushioned backside compressed against him.

“I… would have… expected more from you,” she announced between quiet grunts, casually undoing her bun and shaking her lustrous mahogany hair loose over her pale shoulders, then resting once more on her forearms. “You do realize… you’re attempting to… pleasure ''me'', correct?”

Noting her physical response was far more reserved now than when she was frozen, Max leaned over and hit the device, her body abruptly stiffening. He gave her a few quick thrusts, her body reacting vigorously to every push with a rush of warmth and fluid, her smooth skin soon coated in a sheen of sweat. When he unfroze her, her legs buckled as she wailed in ecstasy, trying to stifle her cries with the back of her hand. Her body succumbed to a series of convulsions, and for the first time since he discovered what she truly was, she betrayed something of her mechanical nature beyond freezing — a high-pitched mechanical squeal from inside her chest.

“Well…” she panted, pausing as another shiver passed through her, the squeal quieting. “I suppose that will have to do. If you’re done, that will be all.”

“I’d rather not leave you wanting, Miss Belle,” Max said, casually massaging her sweat-soaked posterior.

“And as per usual,” she said, her voice with its trademark condescension, “your abilities fall well short of your ambitions.”

With a chuckle, Max said, “I’m going to enjoy this,” and tapped the device, freezing her mid-sigh.

After a series of thrusts brought her back up to a feverish temperature, he withdrew and rolled her on to her back, manually coaxing her legs down from her ‘standing’ position amidst the protest of whining servos. He pulled off her bra, her impressive breasts jostling lose, his hands massaging them as he entered her once more. Her face remained frozen mid eye-roll, but as he glided in and out of her, his hands fondling her chest, he saw tremors beneath the surface of her wet skin, her lips quavering, her eyelashes developing minute ticks. He leaned in to kiss her red lips, feeling them quiver in response as the mechanical squeal from her first orgasm returned, now accompanied by a strange buzzing. Despite her immobility, her face was slowly shifting from indifference to rapt ecstasy, her sex radiating heat, her body glistening.

He pulled out of her and re-oriented himself, sliding a cock awash in her fluids into her mouth, bringing his lips to her simmering sex. He devoured her pussy, his hands gripped tight against her pillowy thighs as her mouth slowly trembled to a close around his manhood. He began feel a faint electrical flicker across his tongue as he serviced her, and the mechanical sounds of her internal machinery went from a mere curiosity to a distressing series of pops and bangs. When he dismounted her, Max saw areas of her shapely body glowing incandescent, a burning smell filling the air as dozens of tiny tremors ran through her form.

“Satisfied, Miss Belle?” Max asked, hitting the device.

Her response was closer to a siren than any human voice, an ear-splitting wail as her back arched, her arms flailing uselessly, the mechanical cacophony inside of her reaching a shrieking crescendo. There was some internal detonation and Miss Belle tumbled from her desk, her smoldering body landing at Max’s feet, charred machinery visible through her damaged frame.

“C-c-class disssmisssszzzzzz''<bzzzzt>''” she moaned, twitching with the odd electrical burst.

“Hello, Max,” he heard a cheery voice call from the doorway. Glancing up from his damaged teacher, he saw Megan in disarray — her shirt buttons misaligned, her tie simply hanging in a loop over her shoulders, her skirt pulled indecently high, and without one of her socks — at least her face was no longer crooked.

“Hello there, Megan,” Max said, pulling on his trousers. “What brings you around?”

“I think we should see headmast-t-ter,” she said with a coy smile, a finger tangling in her damp golden hair.

“The headmaster?” He only knew him by title and reputation, but presumably the head of the Academy would have answers as to why someone saw fit to throw him in a school full of robots. “Well, why not?” Looking down, he asked, “Miss Belle, are we finished?” She buzzed before emitting an electrical pop. “Very well, Megan,” he remarked, adjusting his tie, “to the headmaster.”

==Part Two==

Max made a sweeping gesture with his arm and bid Megan a polite, “After you.” The haphazardly dressed schoolgirl smiled and set off to the Headmaster’s office unsteadily, the smooth motion of her tawny legs interrupted by a twitch or stutter that would lead her to stumble, pause for a few seconds in recovery, and then resume walking as if nothing had happened, only to repeat the process. While he was in no great hurry, Max found the uneven progress frustrating, and at the next one of her pauses, he slid his arm around her. When she hesitated, Max, encouraged her forward with a swat on the back of her skirt.

The unconscionably fresh gesture from a classmate who barely knew her only solicited a confused, “I… oh. I… ah,” from the robotic schoolgirl before she was walking again, stiffly leaning on Max whenever her legs suffered their occasional glitch.

“What can you tell me about the headmaster?” Max asked.

“I’ve neeevvvvver met him,” she answered blithely, her voice developing a metallic echo for a moment.

“Well…. what made you think we needed to see him?”

“Ummmmm…” she seemed as though she were on the cusp of answering, but as they walked she kept silent, wearing a pleasant but vapid expression, eyes blinking at too-regular intervals.

“Calling Megan? Hello?” He slid his hand under her skirt, not entirely surprised she had neglected to put on panties. “Anyone in there?” He gave her a firm squeeze, but she only blinked once more.

“I do not believe this!” the sudden shriek pulled Max’s attention from Megan’s blank staring, and he looked up to see the willowy form of his Literature teacher, Miss Wright, fast approaching. She was tall but petite, with onyx hair hanging in a perfect vertical line to her narrow shoulders, brought to a minute but precise swaying by her small, scissoring steps. The offense she took was plain across her pretty, angular features, her green eyes flashing behind her sleight, rimless frames. “Disentangle yourselves from each-“ she froze when Max thumbed the button, but he was surprised to see Megan did not.

“I… dunno?” Megan offered, unprompted.

“That’s something new,” he observed, then asked, “Want to have some fun with Miss Wright?”

“I would p-prefer we find the headmaster…” she mewled weakly, giving his arm a tug.

“Soon enough!” He spun her into Ms. Wright’s frozen body — as the two reeled slightly from the impact, Max took hold of Miss Wright’s hand and pressed it against Megan’s bare bottom.

Megan’s face took on a quizzical look as Max hopped away, thumbing the device.

“-other this instant!” Wright barked, then stared in silence at where her hand disappeared under her student’s skirt. “What?!” she gasped, recoiling as if from a hot stove.

Max froze her again, positioning the Miss Wright’s other hand on Megan’s pert rump while Megan still looked confused.

“Just bear with me, Megan,” Max stated, hitting the button again.

“What is… what am… what-” Wright’s jerked her hand free once more, her breathing labored and heavy, and Max repeated the process.

“Miss Wright is acting peculiar,” Megan said as her cheek was gripped once more by Wright’s delicate fingers under Max’s guidance. “S-she should see Nurse Green!”

The mention of the Academy’s voluptuous, raven-haired health administrator stirred several thoughts in Max, and he proclaimed, “I think we ourselves might pay her a visit — Miss Wright, however, will be better served by our custodian.” He activated the device and Miss Wright haltingly withdrew her hand, jittering, eyes blinking unevenly.

Max began unbuttoning Miss Wright’s vest as she watched in open-mouthed disbelief, but despite being animate, did nothing to stop him.

“There once was a teacher named Wright” he slowly began.

“W-w-what iis thiissss?” she demanded.

“Whose only real motive was spite,” he continued, opening the vest, taking less care with her blouse to keep up the rhythm of his improvised poem.

“M-m-max, do you w-wish t-to b-b-be ''expelllllled''?” she gasped, but was drawing in deep breaths, her lithe body swaying wantonly back and forth, her tense fingers shredding the last few buttonholes of her blouse before shedding it completely.

“Max tickled her tits…”

“''Yes?''” she gasped, clawing off her modest silk bra, her delicate pink-tipped bosom exposed. Max hit the button and did as promised in verse, his tongue and hands quickening her nipples as heat spread through her, his fondling without pause until she was glowing with a liquid sheen, a sound coming from her like a bandsaw going through sheet metal. He cleared his throat, took Megan’s hand, and stepped back before pressing the button.

“And she flew into bits…”

“TH-THIS UUUUUNIT IIIISSSSS-!” she cried before her abdomen detonated in a flash, nothing more than wires and charred, twisting metal holding the upper and lower halves of her slender form together as she toppled to the ground in a cloud of white smoke.

“And it wasn’t a pretty sight.” Max paused, wrinkling his nose at his failed metric - Miss Wright would never have approved.

“The Headmaster, yes?” Megan insisted, unfazed by the spectacle. “H-he can make sense out of all of th-thisss!”

“It should be fun to watch him try,” Max said with grin, and together they resumed their trip.

One of the classroom doors behind him flung open, and he heard the rumbling voice of their chemistry teacher shout, “What the devil is going-“ Without looking back, Max hit the button, growing ever-fonder of his device in the ensuing silence.

----

There was queue leading out of the nurse’s office comprised entirely of the students from Miss Belle’s history lesson. A few idly conversed about things not in any way related to any odd developments in Miss Belle’s room, but many sat at queer angles or just stood facing in a random direction, staring blankly. Man and Megan bypassed the line and opened the door to find Nurse Green already tending to a very flustered Grace.

The nurse’s unmistakable silhouette was framed against the shuttered window, those oft-thought-of curves unsuppressed in her austere yet fitted slate dress and white apron tied in a neat bow about her slender waist. She hastily cast a sheet over the body of her yammering student, who was saying something about “missing time”.

“Max, I think you ought to see the Headmaster at once,” Nurse Green politely insisted, her soft red lips forming each syllable neatly. Her pale blue eyes watched him closely, framed by an alluring wave of dark hair.

“Megan and I were just on our way,” he replied, “but I thought you might take a look at her — she had a bit of an accident in the shower and her faceplate popped off.”

Grace sat up, mouth gaping the sheet falling from her. Her shirt was held up above her midriff by a protruding cable that disappeared behind the table. Nurse Green, however, only continued to watch him coolly.

“Obviously she was able to reattach it,” Max continued, “but she’s been acting strange ever since. I thought you might take a look, see if you can-“

“He ''knows''?” Grace exclaimed, head shaking. “Will there even be a graduation?!”

“Quiet, Grace,” Nurse Green stated calmly, her eyes never leaving Max.

“What is this going to do to the map? How did this even happen? Isn’t the maintenance of the student body ''your'' responsibility, Nurse Green? These malfunctions-“

For a brief moment, the nurse diverted her attention to a cart where she withdrew a syringe of dark liquid that twinkled with sharp points of light. Roughly pulling up Grace’s skirt, Nurse Green injected the contents into the student’s pale, bared hip and disposed of the empty syringe with a light toss before turning back to Max, the incident over in seconds.

“Quiet, Grace”, Nurse Green repeated, and this time her patient complied with a mute nod, sinking back to the table.

“And… I’ve got a few questions of my own,” Max added, unnerved by her scrutiny and that sudden display of speed, trying to casually slip his hand into his pocket where the device rested.

“The Headmast-t-errr,” Megan weakly interjected, ignored by them both.

“I imagine you must,” she said, her eyes plainly following Max’s movements. He stopped.

“Alright… am I the only human here?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Alright… fair enough… I was expecting a bit more evasion from you… OK. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why am I a human in a boarding school full of robots?”

“Max, trust my experience on the matter when I tell you that you are better off not knowing.”

“Now ''there’s'' the evasion I was expecting!”

“This must have been very hard on you,” she said, her face in a sympathetic pout.

Max shrugged, “Actually… no.”

“What if I told you I could make this just a bad dream,” she promised, leaning toward him, her left arm in her lap as her bicep displaced the soft silhouette of her chest. He almost didn’t notice that her right hand strayed by the cart to collect a syringe of clear liquid. “Or perhaps a very good one… but you can wake from it tomorrow and find everything back to how it was-”

He jabbed the button with an exultant, “Fuck th-“ his words cut off when at the same instant the Nurse lunged. He flinched, eyes clenching shut — but despite the seemingly inevitable sting of the needle, it never came. He opened his eyes and saw her frozen, the syringe millimeters from his neck. He looked at Megan, who only inclined her heard toward the door with a plaintive expression.

“We’ll have no more of that,” Max declared, pulling the syringe from Nurse Green’s fingers. He went to her cart and found another syringe of the dark, glittering liquid. He hiked her dress up over her magnificently presented posterior, cradled lovingly in red panties whose seams pinched invitingly into that plush expanse. “This should settle you down,” he said, driving the needle into her artificial ass and pumping her full of… whatever this stuff was.

“Now then,” he said, putting the table on which Grace lay frozen between them before hitting the button, “Would you describe your current mood as ‘stabby’, Nurse Green?”

She slowly rose from her half-lunge, pivoting to face Max with a blank expression on her face. “I would describe myself as compliant.”

“Wonderful! OK, let’s try again — why am I here?”

Nurse Green simply stared at him blankly.

“Nurse Green? Hello?”

“Hello.” She responded without emotion.

“Nurse Green, ''tell me why I am here.''”

But she only stared.

Max tensely ran his hands through his hair and gnashed his teeth, growling, “Why do you have to be so difficult?!”

The three fembots all stared at him, though Megan brightly offered, “If you have questions, the Headmassszzzter is the one most equipped to answerrrrr them!”

“Fine, you know what? Perhaps Nurse Green was right. Perhaps I ''don’t'' need to know why I’m here.” He started removing his uniform. “Besides, who needs answers when you can just have a robot orgy, eh?”

Noting a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he added, “Could you all maybe liven up a bit?” Megan smiled absently, the others remained unchanged.

“Megan, would you like to start things off by going down on Grace?”

“Max, we really ought to-“

“Grace, would you start things off by going down on Megan?”

“Of course.” The mousy student slid from the table, trailing her cord while Megan shifted in a fitful dance. Their diminutive classmate dropped to her stockinged knees and reached up under Megan’s skirt, pulling the uncertain fembot’s hips to meet her upturned face.

“We… we could always come ba-''<hahhhh>!''” Megan cried, her body slumping against Grace in a peal of pleasure. He noted Grace was also affected, her knees starting to sway from their rigid right angles, her parallel feet with the tips of her black shoes evenly on the floor now trembling, splaying apart as muffled moans could be heard from beneath Megan’s rustling skirt.

“Lovely! And Nurse Green, if you be so kind as to favor me with a good fucking?”

After a few seconds, the nurse moved into action, efficiently removing her apron with one hand while the other methodically ran through the buttons of her dress, discarding both articles on either side of her when she arrived before him, her red undergarments cinching around her luscious curves.

He laid himself on the examination table and exclaimed, “Nurse, I’ve been having this rather painful problem that won’t seem to go away on its own!”

She stopped, asking, “Are you looking for a diagnosis or sex?”

“Apparently I need to jumpstart the foreplay,” he mumbled, reaching from the table to slap the device’s button.

“Oh… why did you stop?!” Megan protested, shaking the suddenly inert Grace in frustration.

“It’s only for a moment, Meg,” he offered, briefly but vigorously working Nurse Green’s breasts with both hands, doing the same to her backside, noting the expected increase in temperature and perspiration. “Right — another go!” he slapped the button.

Nurse Green’s body shook with desperate, panting breaths as she hugged herself, breasts heaving — but it was Grace’s sudden shrill squeal that demanded his attention, and he saw that Megan had managed to slip under her partner and was now in process of repaying her for her services. She caught Max looking at her, sweat dripping from her upturned nose, and she gasped, “Mind your own work!”

Encouraged by this display of personality, he turned to Nurse Green, who was still breathing deeply, and said, “Nurse Green, I’ve been having this-”

“Let’s take a look at you,” she said with a smile, a soft hand sliding up his thigh to seize upon his rigid cock. “Tell me, does this feel any better?” She worked him with slow, deliberate motions as Grace and Megan continued their boisterous activity unabated.

“Better…”

She slid off her panties, calmly explaining, “I’d like to check your vitals.”

“By all means,” Max grinned, putting his hands behind his head.

She straddled Max with those creamy thighs, guiding him into her velvet interior with a soft sigh. She glided up and down his length in gentle motions, breathily delivering his diagnosis. “Your temperature is thirty-seven, blood pressure one-sixty over eighty — elevated, but expected under the circumstances.”

“Go on,” Max encouraged, his fingers sinking into her haunches as he kneaded her tender, unrelenting hips.

“Your cholesterol is well within the range of-“

“And you were doing so well!” Max sighed. “Meg, we’re taking another time out!”

“OK!”

Grace’s protests were cut off by whatever signal the device was transmitting. Max ran his hands across Nurse Green’s lavish body, hips pumping her until she dripped with sweat and heat, her machinery chittering unevenly. He thumbed the button and she reanimated with teeth-rattling squeal of delight, her once-gentle hips now pistons in furious engine, her frantically bouncing breasts finding brief purchase in her hands, then his, then his face. Everything became a kinetic blur as his lips and tongue, fingers, his cock, all plied every piece of her soft, churning body while her internal machinery squealed on in its fevered state, strengthening her seemingly limitless climax as the pitch of her rising cry broke human limits to rattle glass and set his hairs on end. His body tensed as he tried to stave off his own climax, but he felt release burst from him in a euphoric wave. As he throbbed inside her, she began to seize up, servos straining in resistance to his tightening grip before she finally collapse atop him, internal components her still revving tirelessly as her body faltered with his.

“Is this… what you want?” she whispered hotly into his ear, her voice buzzing with electricity, her sex drawing new life from his recovering manhood as he felt her walls pulse in time to some new humming within her body.

“Every… day… of the week!” he panted

“Then let me put things back how they were,” she cooed, “and-“

He was already reaching for the device when he interrupted her. “I gave you obedience juice so you’d stop talking about-“ he felt a pinch in his hip and he flailed outward, slapping the device with his entire hand and sending it crashing to the ground. Glancing at his hip, he saw she was frozen in the process of injecting him with that clear liquid. He tore the syringe free, growling, “Nurse Green, you are in very serious trouble, missy!” He propped her upright where she sat, unmoving on his half-firm member, a seductive smile on her lips with her eyes suspiciously cast down. “Wulllyooooo…” he realized he wasn’t really sure what words had been trying to speak, and as he attempted to shove her from him, he found his arms could only limply push against her body as the room spun in a warm haze.

He ran his hands over her ample curves contentedly, noting the wealth of humming, grinding, and buzzing sounds this elicited from her. A magnetic droning from elsewhere in the room drew his attention, and he saw the frozen Grace was still on her hands with her legs spread, being enthusiastically serviced by Megan — however, her head looked like someone had turned on a bulb inside of it, the rapt expression across her mousy features hard to read against the peach-colored light shining from within.

“Oommmeg….” he slurred to the tawny blonde who lapped away at her classmate’s pussy while forcing Grace’s rigid hands to resume the rough pawing of her healthy breasts. Meg either did not hear or chose not to heed Max’s warning, and a few bright spires of electricity buzzed angrily from Grace’s open mouth before her entire face suddenly caught fire, flaring hotly for a brief moment before a concussive blast from inside her head extinguished the blaze as quickly as it started.

“Meguuyoooollllll,” Max instructed, but his erstwhile escort remained beneath her broken partner’s skirt. Giving up trying to influence her, he turned his attention back to the still-looming Nurse Green. Mustering a bit more control, he took his right hand, whose palm had been brushing up and down along the plush curve of her rump, and plugged her ass with his finger. Her head shined with peach-colored light; when he focused his will and gave a slight pump of his hips, she jostled, glowing brighter.

“''I'' have not failed this school,” a voice with a distinct metallic echo buzzed from inside of Nurse Green, who remained motionless. “''You'' have.”

Without a working tongue, he just gave her another thrust, her face brighter still.

“Your lack of patience and self-discipline,” she continued, quicker now, “means that whatever meager ''<unnnngh>'' pleasures you are able to wring from the little time you have left here will be ''nothing'' comp-''<ahhh>''-ared to what ''<ohhh>'' you could have had if… ''<ahhhhhh!>'' If you would only- ''<OHHHHHohhhhhhh>''” A burst of hissing, sizzling blue flame consumed her features, her last orgasmic cry melting into a deep register of digitized noise before getting cut off with a sudden bang. Staring down at him, Nurse Green’s face was an unrecognizable fusion of burnt machinery and charred circuitry streaming columns of smoke. Another blast from her midsection did him the courtesy of knocking her off of him. As she crashed into a smoldering jumble beside the table, Max flopped his legs over the side of the table, strenuously pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Megu,” he slurred to his escort, to no avail. Refocusing, he managed a distinct, “Megan!”

She popped her head out from under Grace’s skirt, her face and Grace’s thighs spattered in numerous fluids, oils, and some bright blue substance. “Yes, Max?”

“Hllp… trusrsss…” he groaned, gesturing limply at his legs.

“Did you want to g-g-go to the Headmaster now?”

He nodded with the assistance of his wavering torso. “Yss.”

Pushing the half-burnt ruin of Grace off of her, she quickly stood up. “You don’t look very well,” she frowned. “Perhaps N-nurse Green…” she looked at the contorted tangle of the Nurse’s faceless shell and then said, “Or…” and was left staring blankly at the ground.

“Trou… sers…” he tried again.

She sprang forward, but instead of retrieving him his clothes, she grabbed another syringe from the cabinet. “Nnononnnnonnn!” he protested, falling off the table in his attempt to escape, but Megan easily stuck him. He felt a sudden surge of energy as strength returned to his limbs. He sprang up and hugged his hapless companion tightly, kissing her firmly on her fluid-stained lips and parting with an excited, “Megan, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

She smiled brightly as one of her eyes ticked to the side.

Max pulled on his clothes, recovered the device, grabbed one of those ‘compliance’ syringes filled with glittering fluid, and lead Megan out into the hall where the students from Miss Belle’s history class were frozen in place, several exchanging odd glances or looking with suspicion toward the door.

As Megan braced herself against him and urged them both toward the Headmaster’s office, Max began to consider what other interesting detours they mind seek out.

==Part Three==

“Maybe we should find Chloe from physics class,” Max wondered aloud while walking down the empty Academy hall beside the damaged and stained (but still upright) Megan. “I always thought she might have a crush on me… or, I suppose, was programmed to have a crush on me…” His fembot companion made no comment.

“You know, despite her screeching, I’ve always had a thing for Miss Buckley,” Max continued, thinking of the maths teacher. Whenever her lessons involved calculations along curved surfaces he would lapse into vivid daydreams, inevitably brought to an end by her shrieking at him to pay attention. “I imagine she’s a wailing banshee in the sack…” Megan’s gaze remained fixed forward, though her left eye would sometimes flutter to one side, amidst tiny mechanical sounds.

“Oh!” Max suddenly exclaimed, “I just realized that the swim team has their practice ''right now''!”

“Max, our priority isszzzzz the Headmaster,” Megan gently reminded him.

“Perhaps the girl’s swim team (in all of their perfectly toned, swimsuit-clad glory) will still be an option for me after I speak to the Headmaster,” he said in a serious tone, “but I cannot leave such a thing to chance.”

“Sorry, Max,” called an unapologetic voice from behind him, “but you’ve kept the Headmaster waiting long enough.”

Max turned and sighed. “Oh. You two.”

The Academy’s two prefects, Lucy and Jacob, were fast approaching. As with so much else since his revelation, their inhuman physical and academic perfection was suddenly well accounted for. Since they were just machines, it would have been easy to give them the bodies of an Adonis and an Aphrodite, easy to pre-load electronic minds with the course material he had to study for, and easy to power their seeming limitless drive and energy with batteries. Perhaps they were meant to serve as exemplars, given the way the students and faculty fawned over them, but he saw their accomplishments in a far more skeptical light.

“Mmmm… no, I think I’d prefer the swim team,” Max announced, continuing to steer Megan toward the Academy’s pool. A hand with a startlingly firm grip fell upon his shoulder.

“You’re not listening, Max,” Jacob muttered with a trace of annoyance through his straight and gleaming machine-tooled teeth. “The Headmaster-“

“Jacob,” Max interrupted, “You seem… tense. Does he seem tense to you, Megan?”

His deteriorating fembot companion emitted a noncommittal, warbling buzz.

“Enough stalling,” Jacob growled, his square jaw clenched, “If you won’t cooperate willingly-“

“Megan,” Max winced as Jacob’s hands tightened painfully on his shoulder, “I think Jacob needs his cock sucked.” The pressure from Jacob’s hand stopped as the student robot glanced at the approaching and apparently compliant Megan.

“You what?” Jacob managed as Megan brushed Max aside and knelt down, her hands deftly working at the male prefect’s trousers. Jacob released Max and pushed back Megan’s grinning head as Lucy objected with a threatening, “Megan, get away from my-“

Max activated his device and the prefects froze. Megan, still immune to its effects, ducked under Jacob’s outstretched hand, jerked his pants down, and took his member into her mouth. With a faint electrical hum, he was immediately hard, and Megan delivered soft moans between faint audio distortions as she slid her mouth along his shaft. The accelerated and ultimately damage-inducing arousal Max had seen in the frozen female robots seemed to affect the male model to an even greater degree — with every bob of Megan’s head, the timbre of Jacob’s internal machinery rose from inaudible toward distressed, telling of the failure of one or more systems that had been pushed past their operational thresholds.

“Might want to get clear, Megan,” Max informed the still enthusiastically sucking robotic co-ed, but she paid him no heed, he lips and tongue further driving the male robot’s systems into chaos. Max shrugged and hit the button.

“-boyfriend!” finished Lucy, her exclamation barely heard over the electrical and mechanical discord echoing throughout the hall from Jacob’s shivering body.

“M-m-m-meeeg-g-gan!” Jacob managed, smoke rushing from his mouth as his eyes clenched shut, light shining red through his eyelids. “I-I-I-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-“ his statement ended when his electricity-enshrouded head exploded in a gout of white fire followed by a violent spray of fluid and bluish vapor.

Lucy stared at her headless companion, her head twitching oddly as her face cycled through a range of incongruous expressions before settling her gaze on Max with a placid look. Max simply winked, momentarily ruining her composure as her head trembled in reaction.

“Fancy a trip to the pool, Lucy?” he asked. “Wait — aren’t you on the team? Don’t tell me you’re ''truant''!”

“The Headmaster is waiting to explain everything, Max,” Lucy said, perfectly calm. “He sent us to fetch you. You are not in any trouble, nor he is angry with you, but… his patience does have its limits.”

“Fine,” Max said with a sigh, then muttered under his breath, “…race you.”

As her face registered confusion once more, he sprang into a run and rushed past her. Predictably, her insufferably competitive nature — ''programming'', Max mentally corrected — compelled her to sprint after him, her toned and bared legs pumping beneath her tweed skirt as she quickly gained on Max. When she passed him with a wry smirk on her lips, Max smiled back and thumbed the device.

Miss Belle had been in mid-stride during the device’s activation and had managed to take another step to stabilize herself before freezing, but Lucy’s imbalance was not so easily corrected. She fell, looking as though she would land on her face when her leg snapped forward and slammed her black brogue into the floor, pushing like a piston and causing her to spiral to one side into a wall-mounted drinking fountain. There was a flash and a pop from the collusion, then her body crumpled and fell on to the wooden floor.

Max brought her to her feet and noticed a tear in her blouse, beneath which he could see a small rent with exposed wiring in her otherwise smooth abdomen. Despite the damage, her legs worked to keep her upright as he lead her otherwise rigid form in the direction they had come from, passing Megan who was still busily fellating the headless body of Jacob.

“You really don’t need to keep doing that,” Max advised in passing.

“Mmmhffffuuu<bzzzzzz>!” Megan replied, showing no sign of abandoning her oral fixation.

As they neared the pool, Max carefully urged the frozen Lucy into a jog, then a run. When the doors leading to his intended destination loomed before them, he activated the device and ran ahead, taunting, “And here I thought you were on the track team!”

She blinked in confusion, but then poured on speed, blasting past him and through the door before coming to a stunned halt at the edge of the Academy’s swimming pool.

Staring at her and then Max was the entire women’s swim team, clustered at the shallow end. Every one of them wore an identical dark-blue spandex one-piece, their hair tucked beneath white swim-caps, conforming their appearances in a way that reinforced the idea they had all been stamped out in a factory somewhere.

That wasn’t to say he couldn’t tell them apart, though — he picked out Holly from her more enhanced curves, the waifish Millie with her perpetual look of boredom, Amelia and her freckles, Poppy’s impressive height… Max grinned at the class, muttering, “This was definitely the right choice.”

“Lucy!” a voice snapped, and his attention turned to the PE instructor, Miss Ashley. She was a tanned, slender woman, shorter than most of her students, whose low-zipped athletic jacket and white tank-top allowed a splendid view of her scrumptious bust. Knowing what she was, he now wondered if some sort of error during her fabrication had led to her chest’s… overdevelopment? He remembered that when she had given that lecture on pool safety and struggled to get the lifering over her chest, he looked around to his classmates, expecting to share a laugh — but not one of them so much as batted an eye. Maybe none of the other robots saw her that way because they weren’t programmed to — maybe he was the only one who registered those stupendous tits.

Miss Ashley shifted in her green trainers irritably, the supple calves above them wrapped tight in tall athletic socks. Then came her bare knees and toned thighs, the exposed skin ending in her tiny gym shorts. “You’re late!”

Lucy’s processors were apparently still struggling to put all of this together as she stammered, “Th-the Head-d-d-master…”

“And you, Max!” Miss Ashley continued, her bright blue eyes narrowing at him. “Truant and flouting the laws of the Academy!”

Max smiled and said, “Miss Ashley, if you’ll permit me: I have an alternate lesson plan that I’d like to present to the class. And you are invited to participate as well, of course.”

Miss Ashley looked shocked. “Max, the amount of trouble you are already in ''pales'' in comparison to what will happen if you do not turn around ''this very instant'' and return-“

During this exchange, Lucy was busily undressing herself. Max’s attention had been divided between her and Miss Ashley, but he gave the malfunctioning premier student commanded his full notice when she pulled her top off and the shirt snagged on her damaged abdomen. Encountering resistance, Lucy pulled harder on her blouse, finally managing to rip it off, but not without widening the hole in her side, revealing the bundles of machinery and electronics within. Down to her bra and panties, the vacant-eyed fembot teetered briefly on her feet before executing a half-dive, half-fall into the pool, while her coach interrupted her scolding of Max to exclaim, “Lucy, what are you doing?!”

There was a sharp pop when she hit the water and the girls around her instantly began to shudder, arms stiff, eyes wide as smoke wafted between clenched teeth. A chain reaction spread throughout the team as every student stiffened and spasmed when she was caught in electrical bursts from one of her failing neighbors.

“Dammit, Lucy!” Max exclaimed as he watched his simple, humble dreams of a team-wide orgy going up in smoke. Amidst the symphony of twitching servos and frying electrical components, the towering Poppy was the first to go, her impressive height reduced significantly when her strangely smirking head blasted off like a champagne cork, landing with a splash on the far side of the pool.

The diminutive gossip Ruby slumped underwater and was then obscured by a sudden eruption of bubbles, her detached head resurfacing while slowly drawling, “Yoouuu won’t believvvve what happened at swimmmm classssszzzzz…”

Millie, that morose girl with the low bangs, finally wore an expression of something other than bored disinterest as she grappled the curvaceous Holly who had been attempting to hoist herself out of the pool. Holly fell forward on to her bust with a wet smack, bent over the edge of the pool while her legs remained in the water. After a muffled blast from under her swim cap, Millie’s head catapulted into the her teammates posterior and then detonated, and Holly gave a startled gasp before following suit, spraying her swim instructor and Max with sparks and fragments of rubber and plastic as her body rocked on its compressed cleavage.

The exuberant Amelia managed to vault completely out of the pool and strode toward her stunned coach. Electricity shot across her dripping-wet form, her body affected by soft rippling waves that subtly altered her physiology, most notably in the cresting of her breasts beneath the skin-tight spandex and the slight filling in of her backside as the suit’s lining pinched deeper into her softening edges.

“Miss Ashely!” Amelia said excitedly as her nipples budded beneath a suit swelling with cleavage. “C-c-cannn I b-b-be excused? ''<bzzzzzzt!>'' I think-think-think IIIIII-“

“You’re excused!” her coach hurriedly interjected. With a vacuous smile, Amelia spun on her heel and began an unsteady march to the door, while the last of her classmates broke down in the pool. Max wondered if she alone might actually make it out as she planted her legs firmly before the door, swung her arm out in an exaggerated gesture, and swung it back to grip the door handle. At that moment, two distinct tendrils of lightning crept up from her ankles until they joined in a flickering tongue of electricity between her thighs, and fused into a bright blue star before disappearing with a pulse when they met her groin. Her round buttocks plumped and then clenched, seeming to devour the back of her swimsuit and transforming it into a taught thong as she gasped, “Oooh!” Her body suddenly flared with color, glowing incandescent for a moment before she burst to apart in a rapid succession of sharp electrical explosions, falling into a buzzing, smoking tangle of limbs like a discarded mannequin.

The robotic girl’s swim team was no more, the ruined components of most of its members at the bottom of an electrified pool. Max sighed and looked up at Miss Ashely, who seemed to be slowly regaining her composure.

“Max-“ she began, her face softening into an assured, confiding smile.

“Let me guess — I need to see the Headmaster?”

“Yes, Max. He can explain-“

“You see, that’s ''not'' really what I’m after. I find that as time goes on, I don’t really ''care'' about an explanation.”

Ashely blinked, her smile faltering briefly. “Well, whatever it is that you ''do'' desire, the Headmaster-“

He cut her off again. “The Headmaster hasn’t been pretty fucking off-target with my desires thus far.”

Her smile darkened, her voice hardening as she said, “So… you wish to defy the will of someone who has complete control over this entire facility, yourself included. How do you expect this to end for you should you upset him?”

“But why go to see some stodgy administrator when I’m having so much ''fun''?” he asked, readying the device. “Here, this should help you to empathize with my present situation.” He punched the button and Miss Ashley froze with a skeptical look on her face. Max pulled off her thin athletic jacket, her plump cleavage practically bursting through her fitted white tank-top. Max gave her awe-inspiring breasts a hands-on appraisal and found them unusually taught and springy, adding credence to his ‘glitched-tits’ theory. Sweat was now glistening across their rounded surface, and he used the device to turn her back on. The robotic instructor let out a sharp gasp, her fingers jerking to her chest and then shying away as she steadied her gaze on Max. “You… you need to see…”

“A bit more fine-tuning,” Max muttered, freezing her again. He brushed her hips, sliding his hands over the smooth fabric of her minimal exercise shorts, tracing the curve of her well-formed bottom, slipping his hand beneath to feel her silky skin growing warmer at his touch. He delivered a light squeeze and experienced a swell of warmth. Were her components trying to mimic a human response, or simply venting excess heat as he overloaded them with a situation she was not programmed to handle?

This time when she was unfrozen, she gave a low moan and staggered into Max, her hand raking across his chest. “M-m-maxxx…” she whispered, “y-you need to s-seeee…” She hesitated, then tore off her tank top. Before her buoyant tits could settle from their violent liberation, she was on him, her mouth crushed against his as she attacked his trousers. The moment he had worked her skimpy shorts down to her knees, she gave a limber flex of a toned leg and was free of them, still wearing her dainty green trainers and socks. With athletic poise she speared herself upon his raging erection (whose solidity shocked even him, given its recent activities). She gave a digitally fluctuating moan, and he could feel an electrical prickling as her tight sex forced its way along his shaft.

As the two tumbled on to a rubber exercise mat, Max couldn’t help but provoke a reaction by remarking, “You, know you were right — I really ought to see the Headmaster now.”

Her teeth clenched, lights behind her blue eyes sparking. Her rhythmic thrusting ground to a shuddering halt with her heated pelvis resting against his, and she managed to stammer, “Y-y-yesss, g-g-go to the He-he-headmasterrrr-“

He gripped her tits and said, “Then again, I ''am'' enjoying myself…”

With a strangely reverberating groan, she pushed his hands against her overripe breasts and it slipped between her twin melons drenched in simulated sweat. “Th-then fuck meeee!” she whimpered, the engine of her hips sputtering to life as he fondled her apparently hypersensitive bust, moans of rapturous pleasure escaping from her with their every caress.

“But I ''have'' kept him waiting quite a while…”

Her once smoothly pumping ass bucked in violent shudders before she stopped halfway along his length. Smoke rose from her ears and electricity flitted over her spasming features, her brown pony-tail inexplicably pointing up and kinking like a query mark as if to highlight her confusion, her flashing eyes straying in random directions. “No-yes-yes-no, y-you mussszzzzt-“

“Then again, he could probably stand to wait a bit more…”

As her machinery fought contradicting instructions, her quivering pelvis convulsed along his cock in completely arrhythmic thrusts. Her face flushed unnaturally pink as she took on a look of complete confusion, eyes growing wide as she panted, “System errorrrr corrruptionnnnn- “

“But knowing that he wouldn’t like it if-”

With a noise that was equal parts exasperated moan and sharp mechanical squeal, the back of Miss Ahsley’s head exploded, her flushed face looking at him with a delirious, absent smile while her hips gave a final thrust, then she eased forward in a gentle collapse across him. Her steadily firming bust was near frictionless with synthetic sweat as she slid off of his chest and rolled to one side. Glancing at her he was met by the back of her head, an uneven protrusion of metal and sparking wire.

“Well…” Max muttered, staring at the off-white expanse of the pool’s ceiling while Miss Ashley’s robotic body twitched faintly with a whir, “…now what?”

When the question went unanswered by his own thoughts or any other party, he got dressed and strolled back down the hall where he found Megan still on her knees. Jacob’s headless body convulsed with a small electrical surge at every movement of Megan’s mouth.

“I admire your dedication,” Max remarked.

Megan gave a muffled moan, but remained at her present task. Max looked around, wondering if and when there would be another ‘summons’ after the two prefects had failed to retrieve him…. and what form that summons might take.

“You know, I think I ''will'' go and see the Headmaster,” Max announced.

Megan popped off of Jacob’s cock and gave an upbeat, “OK!” Released from her care, Jacob’s body popped and fizzed for a moment before crumpling into a smoldering heap. With a trembling rattle in her knees, the fembot rose to her feet and began a faltering shuffle toward the Headmaster’s office, glancing over her shoulder to beckon Max with a crooked smile before her head snapped forward once more. He matched the pace of the teetering robot, who took his hand to steady her lopsided gait.

“How w-was the swimmmm team?” she asked, and Max thought he heard the hint of a suggestion in her voice.

“Oh… not quite what I’d hoped for,” he sighed. “And at this rate, the Academy is going to run out of students by the week’s end.”

With a sudden tick of her neck followed by a much gentler motion, she inclined her head on his shoulder, “In the end, ''we’re'' ex-x-pendabllle,” she said lazily. “''You’re'' the one he wants to p-p-preserve.”

“Well,” Max said, eying the door to the headmaster’s office ahead of them. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

==Part four==
The moment Max stepped into the office, he heard a voice far more firm than polite state, “Please, have a seat.” It was Miss Brookes, the Headmaster's well-coiffed personal assistant, behind an impressively large and conspicuously empty desk. Beyond the *antique* leather sofa she had indicated, the whole room was furnished matching weathered but well cared for dark wood furniture. Given the recent exposure of the Academy’s facade, Max had to wonder if this all wasn't as fake as the blonde secretary fixing him with her impassive blue eyes.

Because he had had little interaction with the headmaster, he had had little interaction with her –but he had always admired the Headmaster's apparent tastes - sleek and tanned and wearing pristine whites, he was always aware of her presence from the brisk click of her heels as she moved through the halls on her errands. Despite the capricious authority she represented, any anxiety upon seeing her was offset by her flawless beauty, her golden hair perfectly parted, her trim curves a captivating silhouette beneath her spotless white skirt and blouse. Of all the robotic faculty, she seemed the apex of a finely tuned machine, every movement and statement made with no question of intent.

In stark contrast to the smoothly operating secretary, the buzzing and sputtering Megan followed Max, falling against him as one of her jittering legs gave out. She emitted a digitized "Oops!" her eyes eventually swiveling to meet his from behind tangles of honey-blonde curls. “I think I might be sick-dizzy-sleepy-horrrrrny!" she exclaimed in rapid succession, leaning heavily on his arm.

"Megan, you are to report to the nurse immediately," Miss Brookes stated.

"Already did!" Megan chirped as Max eased her on to the couch where she slumped awkwardly in her rumpled uniform. He gave her a reaffirming pat before walking straight to the Headmaster's door. Miss Brookes quickly stood and blocked his access, reiterating, "The Headmaster will see you when he is ready- until then, you must take a seat."

Max looked at the stern secretary's unyielding expression and smiled. "I think both the headmaster and I have kept each other waiting long enough." He thumbed the control in his pocket to immobilize her, and she gave a slight shudder - but when he tried to push her aside, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully.

"You will wait," she stated as she lead him by his pained wrist to the couch. Though she was obviously not frozen by Max’s device, her movements were stiffer than before, lacking her former graceful efficiency, and accompanied by the audible whining of servos. He tried the remote again, but to no effect - she forced him down on to the couch, glowered at him as if daring him to try something, and gave a rigid pivot to return to her desk.

"Plan B, I suppose," he muttered, producing the syringe full of 'compliance' from his jacket pocket and thumbing the cap free. As she stepped away, Max jabbed the needle through her skirt and into the tantalizing curve of her posterior. Once more she stiffened, her machinery emitting a growing buzzing sound.

"Show me to the headmaster if you please," Max said, nearly sinking the needle in the bin. Megan let out a sympathetic coo of disappointment, then a profusion of sparks.

"Error," Miss Brookes stated plainly, turning to him with a blank expression. "Priority conflict, corruption in decision matrix."

"Well, maybe don't worry your pretty little head," Max said, stepping toward the door. "I'll see myself in."

With a chorus of mechanical whirring, Miss Brookes put herself between him and the door, placed her fingers upon the handle, and froze. "Error," she said, her head twitching, thin wisps of smoke beginning to rise from beneath her blonde hair.

Max put his hand over hers, receiving a jolt of electricity, and forced her to turn the handle - but just as the door began to open, the malfunctioning secretary jerked it shut and slammed herself into Max, her body feverishly hot.

"Perhaps I c-can get you somethinnnng while you wait-t-t?" she buzzed, her tanned cleavage heaving despite a distinct lack of breath.

"The door, Miss Brookes," Max commanded, though he could feel his resolve weakening as she hitched up her skirt, a white thong tucked between her bronzed cheeks, marred by a small pink dot where the needle had struck.

"Error!" she groaned, collapsing into him, her body now slick with artificial perspiration, her white clothes clinging to her wet curves. "Unable to follow priority command, p-please issue new directivvvvvve!" She was panting now, her hands tugging at her thong as she pleaded, "Max, would you n-not preferrr to-"

Suddenly, the soaked and smoking fembot released her grip upon Max as Megan buried her face into the secretary's ass, tearing her thong off and plunging her tongue into the stunned robot's pussy. She immediately began to convulse, electricity creeping around her formerly perfect hair, stammering, "Mmmmmmegan, you are interfeeeering with violation in decision you must please to nnnurse for immediate dis-dis-mantling!"

"Good, isn't she?" Max remarked, stepping back toward the headmaster's door.

"Stop!" Miss Brookes barked, "You must waiiiii-" her command ended in a wail as Megan plunged deeper, rising on her knees to lift Miss Brookes into the air. The secretary writhed, suspended upon the schoolgirl's face, her tanned legs kicking helplessly as her failing machinery squealed in protest.

Max stepped into the Headmaster's office. There, behind a polished oak desk and surrounded by shelves neatly lined with leather-bound books was a tan, blond gentleman in a crisp white suit. His handsome, square-jawed face was unperturbed by the malfunction-laden cries of distress and pleasure from his secretary in the other room, and similarly betrayed no emotion as Max approached. He simply closed the ledger before him and set aside his pen before folding his hands on his desk.

"Headmaster," Max said evenly.

“Max,” the Headmaster responded with a hint of disdain. “You’ve shown yourself to be quite obstinate today.”

Max gave a shrug. “You wanted to see me-” A muffled explosion from the adjacent room caused Max to flinch, and he finished, “Well, here I am.”

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. “I suspect you think you’re entitled to an explanation.”

“If you like.”

The Headmaster blinked, which Max chose to read as him being completely gobsmacked. “So you think you have all the answers?”

“I’m the only human in a school full of robots, and someone who either likes me or doesn’t like you taught me how to make this-“ he flashed the device “-to upend all your hard work.”

For a brief moment, the Headmaster pursed his lips. “And you find this sufficient? How incurious of you.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d believe a single word of explanation from you, so let’s get to what matters – either I’ve compromised whatever it is you have going on here or you still have use for me and you’re willing to deal. If it’s the former, then I’ll be on my way-“

“To where, exactly?”

“Whatever’s over those walls.”

The Headmaster smirked.

“Or I suppose you’ll imprison me or kill me or whatever. But if you want to make a deal, I’d like to hear your offer.”

There was a long pause as the Headmaster scrutinized Max, his slender, perfectly manicured fingers drumming exactly once across his desk. “I would propose you return to your studies and graduate.”

Max snorted. “I’m going to need a new history teacher.”

“You need not fret - Miss Belle will be ready for tomorrow’s lesson, with no recollection of today’s mischief.”

Something about the utter lack of concern, the assuredness in the Headmaster’s voice really ate at Max – but he was damned if he was going to show it. “Fine. Excellent. First thing in the morning, then.”

“Max, I don’t think you’re committing to this in good faith.”

It took every ounce of Max’s self-control not to snap – this had to be a deliberate provocation. This man wanted to talk about [/i]good faith[/i] after lying to him for his entire life?

The Headmaster continued in a voice like satin. “It would help to ease my suspicion if you would ask for something in return.”

“Ma-“. Max stopped himself. He was surprised at how reflexively her name came to his lips – Maya, his first real girlfriend, the one who had sacrificed herself for him… Or, as he had come to realize, Maya had been his robot girlfriend, sent to him when he began to stray from his path, and who had ultimately set him back on it more firmly than any threat or reward ever could. But despite all that, he still longed to see her again. And this was all likely the design of this smug prick sitting across from him.

“What was that?” the Headmaster quietly asked.

Fuck you, Headmaster was what he thought, but it came out, “Megan.”

There was a slight tic in the Headmaster’s brow. “What about Megan?”

“I want her to remember today’s mischief.”

Max felt himself once more under the Headmaster’s scrutiny. “Why don’t we just make her your girlfriend. It would be easier to do that than-“

“Look, I’ll be there on time for history class, and for every class right up until I graduate as your diligent pupil with perfect marks for attendance. I’ll do my homework, I’ll press my uniform, and I’ll have lights out at nine pm sharp. Here-“ he tossed the remote device on the Headmaster’s desk. “But Megan remembers.”

The headmaster took the device, turning it over in his hands. “Very well, Max.” He carefully deposited the device in a door that opened and shut with a whisper. “Megan will ‘remember’.”

Uncertain in this victory, Max fidgeted in his chair, while the Headmaster seemed content to sit in silence. Unable to bear it any longer, Max stood.

“I shall see you at graduation,” the Headmaster stated with certainty, opening the ledger in front of him. Max made his way to leave the room, pulling open the door to find the headless wreck of Miss Brookes sparking just beyond. Megan sat just behind her on her haunches, her face and hair plastered with lubricant and robotic fluids, her uniform a total mess, as she stared into the distance with a banal smile.

“You’re also going to need a new secretary,” Max grumbled.

“You’ve had a difficult morning,” the Headmaster coolly replied. “Why not take the rest of the day off.”

Megan’s attention snapped to Max with a whir of machinery, her smile broadening. “H-hello, Mmmax!”

Stooping down, he lifted her to her feet, but her knees seemed to buckle whenever he stopped supporting her.

“Th-the Headmaster c-can help me-me-me!” she said in cheery stammer.

Max ducked down and slid his arm behind her legs, hoisting her in a bridal carry. She was lighter than when he first tried to move her in the shower, and he was able to bring her out of the Headmaster’s office and take a steady pace towards his own dormitory.

The Academy was empty, Max’s footsteps echoing through the deserted halls while Megan’s legs idly twitched and whirred, her bare thighs warm and against his forearms. “Wh-where are we g-going?” Megan asked with a slight giggle.

“My room.”

“M-Max!” she said, her face in shock. “I c-can’t b-b-be in the boy’s d-dormitory!” Even in her deteriorated state, even knowing she was wholly artificial, the coy look she gave him with her honey-colored ringlets spilling over her half-lidded eyes sent his heart racing. “What are you p-p-planninnnng?”

To fuck your silicon brains out? Only that wasn’t it. “Megan,” he said, surprised that her name caught in his throat. “I just… I need someone to know what happened today, someone I can talk to, even if… even if she’s just a robot.”

“I’m n-not a ro-bot-bot-bot, Max!” Megan laughed, sparks trickling from her head.

“Today was… You genuinely helped me today, and you’re in this sorry state because of me, and I don’t even know if it makes sense to… to feel guilt, or gratitude, or even… like…”

Megan kissed him, the feeling electric – literally – with a strange tang from the fluids left by Miss Brookes. It felt both artificial and spontaneous and he realized there was no way they were making it all the way to his room. Breaking from her lips to find somewhere for the them, he settled on the teacher’s lounge and fumbled his way through the door, still holding her in his arms and returning her kisses with matched fervor. Stumbling through an obstacle course of chairs and tables, he finally collapsed with her on to a couch. Already her hands were at his trousers, his in her blouse, and soon both were shed, followed by the undergarments beneath. With his kisses trailing down her neck to her ample breasts humming with an electric buzz, he entered her bare, sweltering sex beneath her tweed skirt.

Her voice skipped in pitch, fluctuating synthetically as he thrust into her again and again, his hands squeezing breasts that felt strangely tacky from the intense heat of her malfunctioning body. Servos in her legs whirred uselessly as her entire chassis was rocked by Max’s unbridled enthusiasm, what little control she had being channeled into meeting his relentless hips with bucking of her own. “Alll forrrr y-youuu, M-max!” she squealed, smoke rising from her trembling lips. “All f-forrr – Ahhhh!” Warmth and wetness surged around Max, a string of electric bursts erupting inside her, patches of her tanned skin searing with light. He brought his lips from her tits to her smoking mouth, ignoring the acrid taste to kiss her deeply as he throbbed in explosive release, his hands squeezing her irrepressibly round ass while the bundled artificial musculature spasmed beneath its smooth synthetic surface. A sudden powerful shock from her made him see stars, leaving him tensed and numb.

Gradually sensation came back to him through the feel of her soft and warm body, her thoroughly drenched sex, her itchy, rumpled skirt, her damp honey curls. Her body twitched and hummed, and he couldn’t tell if the occasional moan and sigh from her was a sign of her cognizance or just the malfunctioning vocalizations of a broken robotic schoolgirl. He could empathize either way, feeling incapable of saying much of anything, his consciousness not worth the trouble of holding on to…

Max awoke alone in his own bed, a glance at his clock telling him it was Monday morning – again? That couldn’t have been a dream - he remembered too much, it was simply too lucid for it not to have been real, and yet – robots? Ridiculous. He realized he didn’t have a lot of time before history class, and used the mindless routine of getting ready as a way to put off the impossible thoughts swirling in his head.

Crossing the yard, he avoided eye contact with his fellow classmates, and none pressed him on his sullen mood – at least until spied Megan waiting on the steps of the main entrance. She was lovely as ever, her hair neatly pulled back, her uniform fitted perfectly, her movement graceful and without any accompanying mechanical sound as she descended the steps to meet him. “You seem to be in a mood,” she said with a wry smile.

Max could only stare at first, unable to formulate the question. “Did we… are you…?”

“Oh dear,” Megan said, pulling him out of the stream of students entering the building, drawing a few curious glances at this uncharacteristic fraternization. “Were you so adamant that I remember everything just because you couldn’t be arsed to?”

He felt giddy, light headed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her. He leaned in, and she gave him a swat across the cheek. “Are you daft?” she hissed. “We’ve got class! And you made a commitment.”

“Yeah, but… we could… I mean, if this is all for my benefit, why do you need to go to gym class?”

“Why not?” she said, giving his reddened cheek a gentle pat. “You knowing I’m there should help you imagine me in my tight little shorts~”

Max swallowed, trying to find the ideal opening argument for them to skip class and fuck in the hedge row when the five-minute bell sounded.

“That’s me,” Megan said, glancing around at the now empty yard before leaning in to give him a small kiss on his cheek. “Get to class. And try not to break Miss Belle again!” She spun on her heel to leave, slipping from his grip as she sprinted toward the gym.

He watched her run with an aching desire to chase her – it was easy to imagine how the ensuing moments would play out, and to extrapolate them into another day of debauchery, regardless of any promises made to the Headmaster. But beyond that… he didn’t know. And if he followed the path set before him, the one he had pledged himself to, he still didn’t know what would happen… or, even more troubling, what he wanted to happen.

Max dutifully climbed the stairs and made sure he was in his seat with a sharpened pencil in hand by the ringing of the final bell. Miss Belle was soon repeated the opening of yesterday’s lecture on the history of the Empire’s conquests, and Max began scribbling plans for a new remote device of his own design.
-----

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[[Category:LongTimeLurker]]
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[[Category:Built]]

Nihilistic

2022-08-05T15:02:36Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Part Two */

=Nihilistic=
==Part one==
Surrounded by an abrupt silence, Max looked about him in disbelief, then back to the device in his hands, a rough amalgam of wires, radio parts, and a component of unknown origin. After fruitless experimentation with the device in what little personal time he had, checking and re-checking that he had followed those mysterious instructions to the letter, an idle press of its solitary button during class had finally revealed its function — it could stop time.

With a faint ‘click’, everything in the classroom, his fellow students, their history teacher, Miss Belle, all of them froze, motionless, not so much as a breath stirring them. Nervously, he pressed the button again; to his great relief, time was immediately restored. Miss Belle continuing to scratch upon the chalkboard the various names and dates that chronicled the collapse of nations that had once been The Empire’s feckless enemies, the harsh sound underscored by the faint rasp of two-dozen pencils as her students dutifully copied everything down.

Miss Belle seemed to sense his distraction and turned her imperious gaze upon him. “Max, do you have something more important to do than — what is that?”

He quickly brought the device beneath his desk, but Miss Belle was already advancing quickly, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her tone becoming increasingly stern, she repeated, “I ''asked'' you, what is-“ he thumbed the button, halting her progress mid-stride - but he noted that instead of immediately freezing, she finished her step, both feet firmly on the ground before she stopped completely.

He looked around the room again and realized the clock still ticked away seconds — outside the window, a breeze stirred through the trees hedging the Academy’s sprawling manicured grounds, grey clouds moving in the distance. It wasn’t freezing time, he realized, just the people around him. He carefully put the device on the floor, took up a pencil and a sharpener, and triggered the button with the toe of his shoe.

“-that thing you’re holding?” Miss Belle resumed, striding up to his desk. He presented his hands, and she seemed deeply troubled what she saw, her dark lashes fluttering in confusion. “I… pencil…?”

Max said nothing, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from seeing his beautiful yet unfailingly harsh instructor so bewildered. “Yes, well — this time is for taking notes, not sharpening pencils.” She pivoted and strode back to the board. “You will remain after class and prepare a stock of pencils for yourself and your classmates by sharpening my entire supply-“

He clicked the button with his toe, then leisurely stood up and walked past his frozen fellow students, humming the chorus of the Empire’s bombastic anthem to himself. Rummaging through her impeccably organized cabinet, he found her ridiculously vast stockpile of pencils and pulled every box. Thinking that he should do more than simply throw them in the class’s bin, he returned to his desk to claim the device and stepped into the hall.

''You’ve got a bloody [b]time machine[/b] — or something of the sort — and you’re wasting it on pencils?'' He was, after all, an adult now, along with every other student at this school, all on the cusp of “graduation” — and this current use of his newfound powers seemed incredibly puerile.

“Why not the girl’s locker room?” he said with a start, and began heading toward the gym, tossing the pencils at his earliest convenience.

Moving through the dimly lit dark wood halls of the Academy, Max could not help but feel on-edge. Its many rules were strictly enforced, every student’s time tightly controlled, going back as far as his earliest memories of childhood here — if he were caught out of class, unable to explain himself, he would lose what precious free time he had, possibly meals as well.

But how would he be caught? He had stopped time, hadn’t he? As he passed by a classroom door, he cautiously glanced through the window to see students intently taking notes, untouched by the device’s effects. What sort of range did it have? Would the stoppage ‘wear off’ in Miss Belle’s classroom? As other questions about its use and limitations came to mind, he had to face the most obvious ones — what was it ''for''? And who had wanted him to have it?

Two nights ago, Max found a folded sheet of paper and a wafer-thin component tucked into an engineering textbook. The paper was covered in impeccably written directions on how to construct some sort of transmitter, how to attach the component to the finished product. There was no hint as to what it might do or who had created the schematics or the tiny component itself, but these were not great concerns to Max. Obviously they had intended for him to have it… and in the absence of instruction, they presumably were leaving its use to his own judgment.

Arriving at the girl’s locker room, he considered that this might be a test from one of his instructors, and that ogling his female co-eds in the shower was not likely to earn him passing marks. But this was not how tests at the Academy were conducted; there was never any room for creativity, only the rote memorization and regurgitation of whatever subject they were studying. Looking at the clock, he believed that class C would be getting ready for P.E. Before he could give any real thought to the moral implications of his actions, Max hit the button on the device and stepped through the door.

The scene was less engaging that he would have thought, the tableau of students frozen in their underwear far more clinical than titillating. Girls he had known throughout his years at the Academy were in various stages of undress — but they all seemed so… inert. All of them staring blankly forward, methodically getting out of their uniforms and into their gym clothes. He supposed it was silly to think he would find a private show full of girls in pin-up poses, but this…

Following the sound of running water, he rounded a corner and immediately forgot to breathe. There stood the surpassingly lovely Megan, frozen in the steaming shower. Shining rivulets ran over her statue-still body, tributaries collecting in streams that flowed over her pert curves — she would not have looked out of place as the marble centerpiece in a fountain of frolicking naiads. She held her golden hair back with both hands, facing the stream, her lips slightly parted, water overflowing from her mouth…

Upon registering that last detail, Max rushed to her in a panic — were her lungs flooded with water!? When he unfroze her, would she drown? Was she drowning already? He grabbed her beneath her raised arms and pulled her free of the shower, finding her heavier than anticipated — his foot slipped on the wet tile, and he dropped her before falling himself on to the hard floor.

There was a sharp pain in his tailbone, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Megan had fallen on her side, still locked in that nymphean pose — she seemed unharmed, except her face was… ''askew''. As if it were a mask on crooked, only partially concealing something beneath, something silver and glinting. Max leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in this ‘gap’ between her face and her head. ''Was that… machinery?''

A sudden bright burst of electricity flared from her temple as her blue eyes snapped open, staring directly at him — Max gave a startled cry, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the locker room, halfway back to his classroom before he managed to stop himself. He realized his device was not stopping time it all — it was an on / off switch for robots. Oh, and by the way, just one more tidbit — everyone he had known his entire life was apparently a machine.

He wondered if he ought to be outraged or upset or if he was simply going insane — for in truth, he felt none of these things at all, but rather, a powerful curiosity. In a lot of ways, the Academy made more sense to him now that before he knew he was surrounded by robots. Of ''course'' his classmates could effortlessly breeze through subjects that seemed designed specifically for his torment: ''they'' were just following programming, ''he'' actually had to learn this stuff. But why? For whose benefit? ''Why go through all this trouble?''

Max tried to think if there was anyone he might suspect was human. There was the nebulous headmaster, the authority he had never actually seen, who seemed to exist more as a vengeful deity than an actual person. Perhaps the transfer student, Maya Green, his former girlfriend and partner in crime, right up until her expulsion.

He had found her so unlike everyone else in this place, spontaneous, willing to take risks… affectionate! But he had to consider that she had been a robot too, one programmed to serve as a cautionary tale instead of another perfect student to emulate. If so, it had worked, hadn’t it? When they were both caught committing the grave offense of trying to escape the school grounds, Maya had pleaded desperately to the Disciplinarian on his behalf, tears streaming down her pretty, freckled face from those dark, almond-shaped eyes. She claimed it had all been her idea, that she had pressured Max into it, refuting Max’s insistence that he was the one behind it all. In the end, she was expelled while he was allowed to remain — and before she left, never to be seen again, Maya drew from him a promise her that he would not squander her sacrifice, that he would stay out of trouble, if only for her sake. A promise he had kept, to this day.

''To hell with it,'' he decided. ''Now it’s time to play''.

Max returned to the frozen diorama of his classroom, carefully scrutinizing Miss Belle and his fellow classmates. Even knowing they were all machines, he just couldn’t see it. He went in for a closer look at Miss Belle, her soft brown eyes staring straight ahead, her red lips parted mid-syllable, her mahogany hair in a bun wound almost as tightly as she was — but no matter how closely he looked or where he touched her cold, satin skin, he could not discern where her face might ‘detach’ in the way Megan’s had.

He idly undid the buttons on her blouse and parted the white fabric — beneath he saw the creamy hemispheres of her bountiful chest, cupped in a floral print bra, frilled in lace — but all of it unmistakably human. A thought struck Max, and he pulled off her blouse completely, then returned to his desk and activated the transmitter. Miss Belle continued right where she had left off, discussing his punishment, “-so that no one else will need to spend time fiddling at their desk instead of taking notes. Now then…” Miss Belle picked up the chalk and resumed her lecture, apparently oblivious of her missing apparel. He glanced at his fellow classmates, noticing brief flashes of confusion on their faces of each as they looked up to see far more of their teacher than they were accustomed — and just as quickly, every one of them seemed to accept the situation and resume their note-taking.

Max froze the room again and approached Miss Belle, unfastening the grey tweed pencil skirt that hugged her hips and offered tantalizing glimpses to the exquisite form of her round backside. Sliding the skirt down, he carefully took her ankle and lifted — she cooperated, balancing on one foot, then the other as he stepped her out of the grey fabric. Her matching floral panties were a snug fit against her pale, perfect rump, and he gave her cheek an appraising squeeze — her soft skin was initially cold to the touch, but warmed under his caress, pink blossoming beneath the smooth, fair surface. Not wanting to get carried away, he hastily disposed of the skirt and returned to his desk, activating the device once more.

Just as before, she continued her lecture in her underwear, her forceful gestures at the chalkboard sending delightful tremors through her voluptuous form. His classmates had additional difficulty when they noticed their instructor’s new state of undress, and not all of them recovered. To his immediate right, Grace (programmed, as near as he could tell, to be a condescending know-all) seemed to be having particular trouble. Her cute head wobbled strangely upon her neck, her typically-smug expression now screwed-up in confusion.

Max leaned close to her and whispered, “Where did her skirt go?”

Her hazel eyes darted between him and their teacher, her head-tremors worsening. “M-M-Miss Belle,” Grace stammered, ineffectually brushing aside the auburn bangs that kept falling across her eyes as her head shook. “I-I-IIIIIII fffffeeeelllll… funnyyyyy…” She took on a digitized tremulo whenever her voice caught on a vowel, her pink her lips not quite synchronized with her words.

The teacher turned and looked at her favorite pupil with distaste. “Well, go to the nurse!” Surveying the rest of the class and evidently seeing something she did not like in her students, she asked, “What is going on with all of you?”

“We’re all just wondering why you’re in your underwear,” Max said calmly. A few barks of artificial laughter sounded from the class, but were sharply cut off by Miss Belle’s glower. He noticed ticks spreading across the room while Grice rose, moving stiffly yet quickly toward the door.

Miss Belle glanced down at herself and gasped in surprise, backing against the wall while doing her best to cover her immodesty with her hands. “I d-d-do not understannnnnd-“ she groaned, looking about helplessly. A moment later her head snapped sharply forward and she straightened, relaxing her arms at her sides, crisply announcing, “Class dismissed.”

The students rose, some with great difficulty, colliding with one another in their awkward shuffle out the door. A few annoyed remarks of, “Watch where you’re going,” or “Excuse you,” could be heard, but they were all delivered in flat, impersonal tones. With the last of them gone, Miss Belle sat at her desk, staring blankly ahead.

In the ludicrously prolonged silence that followed, Max couldn’t help but crack a smile. Finally, he prompted her with, “Miss Belle, am I dismissed?” he said.

“''You'' have quite a bit of sharpening to do,” she proclaimed, suddenly animate as she strode to the supply cabinet, opening the drawer that had held the pencils — she stared blankly at the empty space for several moments, before wordlessly pushing it shut.

“Trouble, Miss Belle?” Max asked, casually approaching her.

“That is not your concern,” she said flatly. “And you are still to be reprimanded for your disruptive behavior. You… you will… you…”

“I have an idea or two,” he said with a smirk.

“And I’ll have no more of this cheek from you!” she insisted her elegant features narrowing in suspicion.

Max hit the button and once more she froze, her cross expression preserved. ”Miss Belle, you’re so tense!” he exclaimed. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Sliding his hand into the cup of her bra, he fondled the softness beneath, feeling a spreading warmth, her nipple hardening visibly even through the padded cup. “Better already!” he remarked, then slipped his hand down the front of her panties, gliding through the tuft of hair, fingers caressing and then moving within her chilled labia — in an instant, he could feel heat coming from her, her face suddenly flush with a rosy glow. He withdrew his hand and unfroze her.

“''<Hahhhhh!>''” she gasped, chest heaving, one of her hands taking hold of the breast he had just released, the other cupping lightly over her groin. She held it there, trembling, before a finger shyly pressed in against the fabric of her panties, soliciting another gasp. Max approached put his arms around her, taking hold of her rump, reacquainting himself with her familiar softness with a tender squeeze.

She stared at him in stunned surprise, her red lips gaping as she struggled to find her voice. Suddenly, her head snapped rigidly into place, her expression resetting to its customary haughtiness as she said, “Come with me.”

She broke from him and walked stiffly to her desk, then turned to face him, stating, “Take off your uniform.”

“If you insist,” Max said with an exaggerated sigh, and was soon naked before her.

“Now, remove my undergarments.”

He slid her panties down her shapely legs, taking the opportunity to retrace those elegant lines with his fingertips as he stood. She ignored this bit of foreplay, spun on her heel, and bent over her desk, brazenly presenting her porcelain white derriere and still-flushed sex. “Make love to me,” she demanded airily. “If you are able to perform to even the most modest of standards, we shall consider your punishment served.”

With another forced sigh, Max entered her slowly, her body tensing at the introduction. He took hold of her cool, white hips, rapidly bringing her to warmth and color as her cushioned backside compressed against him.

“I… would have… expected more from you,” she announced between quiet grunts, casually undoing her bun and shaking her lustrous mahogany hair loose over her pale shoulders, then resting once more on her forearms. “You do realize… you’re attempting to… pleasure ''me'', correct?”

Noting her physical response was far more reserved now than when she was frozen, Max leaned over and hit the device, her body abruptly stiffening. He gave her a few quick thrusts, her body reacting vigorously to every push with a rush of warmth and fluid, her smooth skin soon coated in a sheen of sweat. When he unfroze her, her legs buckled as she wailed in ecstasy, trying to stifle her cries with the back of her hand. Her body succumbed to a series of convulsions, and for the first time since he discovered what she truly was, she betrayed something of her mechanical nature beyond freezing — a high-pitched mechanical squeal from inside her chest.

“Well…” she panted, pausing as another shiver passed through her, the squeal quieting. “I suppose that will have to do. If you’re done, that will be all.”

“I’d rather not leave you wanting, Miss Belle,” Max said, casually massaging her sweat-soaked posterior.

“And as per usual,” she said, her voice with its trademark condescension, “your abilities fall well short of your ambitions.”

With a chuckle, Max said, “I’m going to enjoy this,” and tapped the device, freezing her mid-sigh.

After a series of thrusts brought her back up to a feverish temperature, he withdrew and rolled her on to her back, manually coaxing her legs down from her ‘standing’ position amidst the protest of whining servos. He pulled off her bra, her impressive breasts jostling lose, his hands massaging them as he entered her once more. Her face remained frozen mid eye-roll, but as he glided in and out of her, his hands fondling her chest, he saw tremors beneath the surface of her wet skin, her lips quavering, her eyelashes developing minute ticks. He leaned in to kiss her red lips, feeling them quiver in response as the mechanical squeal from her first orgasm returned, now accompanied by a strange buzzing. Despite her immobility, her face was slowly shifting from indifference to rapt ecstasy, her sex radiating heat, her body glistening.

He pulled out of her and re-oriented himself, sliding a cock awash in her fluids into her mouth, bringing his lips to her simmering sex. He devoured her pussy, his hands gripped tight against her pillowy thighs as her mouth slowly trembled to a close around his manhood. He began feel a faint electrical flicker across his tongue as he serviced her, and the mechanical sounds of her internal machinery went from a mere curiosity to a distressing series of pops and bangs. When he dismounted her, Max saw areas of her shapely body glowing incandescent, a burning smell filling the air as dozens of tiny tremors ran through her form.

“Satisfied, Miss Belle?” Max asked, hitting the device.

Her response was closer to a siren than any human voice, an ear-splitting wail as her back arched, her arms flailing uselessly, the mechanical cacophony inside of her reaching a shrieking crescendo. There was some internal detonation and Miss Belle tumbled from her desk, her smoldering body landing at Max’s feet, charred machinery visible through her damaged frame.

“C-c-class disssmisssszzzzzz''<bzzzzt>''” she moaned, twitching with the odd electrical burst.

“Hello, Max,” he heard a cheery voice call from the doorway. Glancing up from his damaged teacher, he saw Megan in disarray — her shirt buttons misaligned, her tie simply hanging in a loop over her shoulders, her skirt pulled indecently high, and without one of her socks — at least her face was no longer crooked.

“Hello there, Megan,” Max said, pulling on his trousers. “What brings you around?”

“I think we should see headmast-t-ter,” she said with a coy smile, a finger tangling in her damp golden hair.

“The headmaster?” He only knew him by title and reputation, but presumably the head of the Academy would have answers as to why someone saw fit to throw him in a school full of robots. “Well, why not?” Looking down, he asked, “Miss Belle, are we finished?” She buzzed before emitting an electrical pop. “Very well, Megan,” he remarked, adjusting his tie, “to the headmaster.”

==Part Two==

Max made a sweeping gesture with his arm and bid Megan a polite, “After you.” The haphazardly dressed schoolgirl smiled and set off to the Headmaster’s office unsteadily, the smooth motion of her tawny legs interrupted by a twitch or stutter that would lead her to stumble, pause for a few seconds in recovery, and then resume walking as if nothing had happened, only to repeat the process. While he was in no great hurry, Max found the uneven progress frustrating, and at the next one of her pauses, he slid his arm around her. When she hesitated, Max, encouraged her forward with a swat on the back of her skirt.

The unconscionably fresh gesture from a classmate who barely knew her only solicited a confused, “I… oh. I… ah,” from the robotic schoolgirl before she was walking again, stiffly leaning on Max whenever her legs suffered their occasional glitch.

“What can you tell me about the headmaster?” Max asked.

“I’ve neeevvvvver met him,” she answered blithely, her voice developing a metallic echo for a moment.

“Well…. what made you think we needed to see him?”

“Ummmmm…” she seemed as though she were on the cusp of answering, but as they walked she kept silent, wearing a pleasant but vapid expression, eyes blinking at too-regular intervals.

“Calling Megan? Hello?” He slid his hand under her skirt, not entirely surprised she had neglected to put on panties. “Anyone in there?” He gave her a firm squeeze, but she only blinked once more.

“I do not believe this!” the sudden shriek pulled Max’s attention from Megan’s blank staring, and he looked up to see the willowy form of his Literature teacher, Miss Wright, fast approaching. She was tall but petite, with onyx hair hanging in a perfect vertical line to her narrow shoulders, brought to a minute but precise swaying by her small, scissoring steps. The offense she took was plain across her pretty, angular features, her green eyes flashing behind her sleight, rimless frames. “Disentangle yourselves from each-“ she froze when Max thumbed the button, but he was surprised to see Megan did not.

“I… dunno?” Megan offered, unprompted.

“That’s something new,” he observed, then asked, “Want to have some fun with Miss Wright?”

“I would p-prefer we find the headmaster…” she mewled weakly, giving his arm a tug.

“Soon enough!” He spun her into Ms. Wright’s frozen body — as the two reeled slightly from the impact, Max took hold of Miss Wright’s hand and pressed it against Megan’s bare bottom.

Megan’s face took on a quizzical look as Max hopped away, thumbing the device.

“-other this instant!” Wright barked, then stared in silence at where her hand disappeared under her student’s skirt. “What?!” she gasped, recoiling as if from a hot stove.

Max froze her again, positioning the Miss Wright’s other hand on Megan’s pert rump while Megan still looked confused.

“Just bear with me, Megan,” Max stated, hitting the button again.

“What is… what am… what-” Wright’s jerked her hand free once more, her breathing labored and heavy, and Max repeated the process.

“Miss Wright is acting peculiar,” Megan said as her cheek was gripped once more by Wright’s delicate fingers under Max’s guidance. “S-she should see Nurse Green!”

The mention of the Academy’s voluptuous, raven-haired health administrator stirred several thoughts in Max, and he proclaimed, “I think we ourselves might pay her a visit — Miss Wright, however, will be better served by our custodian.” He activated the device and Miss Wright haltingly withdrew her hand, jittering, eyes blinking unevenly.

Max began unbuttoning Miss Wright’s vest as she watched in open-mouthed disbelief, but despite being animate, did nothing to stop him.

“There once was a teacher named Wright” he slowly began.

“W-w-what iis thiissss?” she demanded.

“Whose only real motive was spite,” he continued, opening the vest, taking less care with her blouse to keep up the rhythm of his improvised poem.

“M-m-max, do you w-wish t-to b-b-be ''expelllllled''?” she gasped, but was drawing in deep breaths, her lithe body swaying wantonly back and forth, her tense fingers shredding the last few buttonholes of her blouse before shedding it completely.

“Max tickled her tits…”

“''Yes?''” she gasped, clawing off her modest silk bra, her delicate pink-tipped bosom exposed. Max hit the button and did as promised in verse, his tongue and hands quickening her nipples as heat spread through her, his fondling without pause until she was glowing with a liquid sheen, a sound coming from her like a bandsaw going through sheet metal. He cleared his throat, took Megan’s hand, and stepped back before pressing the button.

“And she flew into bits…”

“TH-THIS UUUUUNIT IIIISSSSS-!” she cried before her abdomen detonated in a flash, nothing more than wires and charred, twisting metal holding the upper and lower halves of her slender form together as she toppled to the ground in a cloud of white smoke.

“And it wasn’t a pretty sight.” Max paused, wrinkling his nose at his failed metric - Miss Wright would never have approved.

“The Headmaster, yes?” Megan insisted, unfazed by the spectacle. “H-he can make sense out of all of th-thisss!”

“It should be fun to watch him try,” Max said with grin, and together they resumed their trip.

One of the classroom doors behind him flung open, and he heard the rumbling voice of their chemistry teacher shout, “What the devil is going-“ Without looking back, Max hit the button, growing ever-fonder of his device in the ensuing silence.

----

There was queue leading out of the nurse’s office comprised entirely of the students from Miss Belle’s history lesson. A few idly conversed about things not in any way related to any odd developments in Miss Belle’s room, but many sat at queer angles or just stood facing in a random direction, staring blankly. Man and Megan bypassed the line and opened the door to find Nurse Green already tending to a very flustered Grace.

The nurse’s unmistakable silhouette was framed against the shuttered window, those oft-thought-of curves unsuppressed in her austere yet fitted slate dress and white apron tied in a neat bow about her slender waist. She hastily cast a sheet over the body of her yammering student, who was saying something about “missing time”.

“Max, I think you ought to see the Headmaster at once,” Nurse Green politely insisted, her soft red lips forming each syllable neatly. Her pale blue eyes watched him closely, framed by an alluring wave of dark hair.

“Megan and I were just on our way,” he replied, “but I thought you might take a look at her — she had a bit of an accident in the shower and her faceplate popped off.”

Grace sat up, mouth gaping the sheet falling from her. Her shirt was held up above her midriff by a protruding cable that disappeared behind the table. Nurse Green, however, only continued to watch him coolly.

“Obviously she was able to reattach it,” Max continued, “but she’s been acting strange ever since. I thought you might take a look, see if you can-“

“He ''knows''?” Grace exclaimed, head shaking. “Will there even be a graduation?!”

“Quiet, Grace,” Nurse Green stated calmly, her eyes never leaving Max.

“What is this going to do to the map? How did this even happen? Isn’t the maintenance of the student body ''your'' responsibility, Nurse Green? These malfunctions-“

For a brief moment, the nurse diverted her attention to a cart where she withdrew a syringe of dark liquid that twinkled with sharp points of light. Roughly pulling up Grace’s skirt, Nurse Green injected the contents into the student’s pale, bared hip and disposed of the empty syringe with a light toss before turning back to Max, the incident over in seconds.

“Quiet, Grace”, Nurse Green repeated, and this time her patient complied with a mute nod, sinking back to the table.

“And… I’ve got a few questions of my own,” Max added, unnerved by her scrutiny and that sudden display of speed, trying to casually slip his hand into his pocket where the device rested.

“The Headmast-t-errr,” Megan weakly interjected, ignored by them both.

“I imagine you must,” she said, her eyes plainly following Max’s movements. He stopped.

“Alright… am I the only human here?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Alright… fair enough… I was expecting a bit more evasion from you… OK. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why am I a human in a boarding school full of robots?”

“Max, trust my experience on the matter when I tell you that you are better off not knowing.”

“Now ''there’s'' the evasion I was expecting!”

“This must have been very hard on you,” she said, her face in a sympathetic pout.

Max shrugged, “Actually… no.”

“What if I told you I could make this just a bad dream,” she promised, leaning toward him, her left arm in her lap as her bicep displaced the soft silhouette of her chest. He almost didn’t notice that her right hand strayed by the cart to collect a syringe of clear liquid. “Or perhaps a very good one… but you can wake from it tomorrow and find everything back to how it was-”

He jabbed the button with an exultant, “Fuck th-“ his words cut off when at the same instant the Nurse lunged. He flinched, eyes clenching shut — but despite the seemingly inevitable sting of the needle, it never came. He opened his eyes and saw her frozen, the syringe millimeters from his neck. He looked at Megan, who only inclined her heard toward the door with a plaintive expression.

“We’ll have no more of that,” Max declared, pulling the syringe from Nurse Green’s fingers. He went to her cart and found another syringe of the dark, glittering liquid. He hiked her dress up over her magnificently presented posterior, cradled lovingly in red panties whose seams pinched invitingly into that plush expanse. “This should settle you down,” he said, driving the needle into her artificial ass and pumping her full of… whatever this stuff was.

“Now then,” he said, putting the table on which Grace lay frozen between them before hitting the button, “Would you describe your current mood as ‘stabby’, Nurse Green?”

She slowly rose from her half-lunge, pivoting to face Max with a blank expression on her face. “I would describe myself as compliant.”

“Wonderful! OK, let’s try again — why am I here?”

Nurse Green simply stared at him blankly.

“Nurse Green? Hello?”

“Hello.” She responded without emotion.

“Nurse Green, ''tell me why I am here.''”

But she only stared.

Max tensely ran his hands through his hair and gnashed his teeth, growling, “Why do you have to be so difficult?!”

The three fembots all stared at him, though Megan brightly offered, “If you have questions, the Headmassszzzter is the one most equipped to answerrrrr them!”

“Fine, you know what? Perhaps Nurse Green was right. Perhaps I ''don’t'' need to know why I’m here.” He started removing his uniform. “Besides, who needs answers when you can just have a robot orgy, eh?”

Noting a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he added, “Could you all maybe liven up a bit?” Megan smiled absently, the others remained unchanged.

“Megan, would you like to start things off by going down on Grace?”

“Max, we really ought to-“

“Grace, would you start things off by going down on Megan?”

“Of course.” The mousy student slid from the table, trailing her cord while Megan shifted in a fitful dance. Their diminutive classmate dropped to her stockinged knees and reached up under Megan’s skirt, pulling the uncertain fembot’s hips to meet her upturned face.

“We… we could always come ba-''<hahhhh>!''” Megan cried, her body slumping against Grace in a peal of pleasure. He noted Grace was also affected, her knees starting to sway from their rigid right angles, her parallel feet with the tips of her black shoes evenly on the floor now trembling, splaying apart as muffled moans could be heard from beneath Megan’s rustling skirt.

“Lovely! And Nurse Green, if you be so kind as to favor me with a good fucking?”

After a few seconds, the nurse moved into action, efficiently removing her apron with one hand while the other methodically ran through the buttons of her dress, discarding both articles on either side of her when she arrived before him, her red undergarments cinching around her luscious curves.

He laid himself on the examination table and exclaimed, “Nurse, I’ve been having this rather painful problem that won’t seem to go away on its own!”

She stopped, asking, “Are you looking for a diagnosis or sex?”

“Apparently I need to jumpstart the foreplay,” he mumbled, reaching from the table to slap the device’s button.

“Oh… why did you stop?!” Megan protested, shaking the suddenly inert Grace in frustration.

“It’s only for a moment, Meg,” he offered, briefly but vigorously working Nurse Green’s breasts with both hands, doing the same to her backside, noting the expected increase in temperature and perspiration. “Right — another go!” he slapped the button.

Nurse Green’s body shook with desperate, panting breaths as she hugged herself, breasts heaving — but it was Grace’s sudden shrill squeal that demanded his attention, and he saw that Megan had managed to slip under her partner and was now in process of repaying her for her services. She caught Max looking at her, sweat dripping from her upturned nose, and she gasped, “Mind your own work!”

Encouraged by this display of personality, he turned to Nurse Green, who was still breathing deeply, and said, “Nurse Green, I’ve been having this-”

“Let’s take a look at you,” she said with a smile, a soft hand sliding up his thigh to seize upon his rigid cock. “Tell me, does this feel any better?” She worked him with slow, deliberate motions as Grace and Megan continued their boisterous activity unabated.

“Better…”

She slid off her panties, calmly explaining, “I’d like to check your vitals.”

“By all means,” Max grinned, putting his hands behind his head.

She straddled Max with those creamy thighs, guiding him into her velvet interior with a soft sigh. She glided up and down his length in gentle motions, breathily delivering his diagnosis. “Your temperature is thirty-seven, blood pressure one-sixty over eighty — elevated, but expected under the circumstances.”

“Go on,” Max encouraged, his fingers sinking into her haunches as he kneaded her tender, unrelenting hips.

“Your cholesterol is well within the range of-“

“And you were doing so well!” Max sighed. “Meg, we’re taking another time out!”

“OK!”

Grace’s protests were cut off by whatever signal the device was transmitting. Max ran his hands across Nurse Green’s lavish body, hips pumping her until she dripped with sweat and heat, her machinery chittering unevenly. He thumbed the button and she reanimated with teeth-rattling squeal of delight, her once-gentle hips now pistons in furious engine, her frantically bouncing breasts finding brief purchase in her hands, then his, then his face. Everything became a kinetic blur as his lips and tongue, fingers, his cock, all plied every piece of her soft, churning body while her internal machinery squealed on in its fevered state, strengthening her seemingly limitless climax as the pitch of her rising cry broke human limits to rattle glass and set his hairs on end. His body tensed as he tried to stave off his own climax, but he felt release burst from him in a euphoric wave. As he throbbed inside her, she began to seize up, servos straining in resistance to his tightening grip before she finally collapse atop him, internal components her still revving tirelessly as her body faltered with his.

“Is this… what you want?” she whispered hotly into his ear, her voice buzzing with electricity, her sex drawing new life from his recovering manhood as he felt her walls pulse in time to some new humming within her body.

“Every… day… of the week!” he panted

“Then let me put things back how they were,” she cooed, “and-“

He was already reaching for the device when he interrupted her. “I gave you obedience juice so you’d stop talking about-“ he felt a pinch in his hip and he flailed outward, slapping the device with his entire hand and sending it crashing to the ground. Glancing at his hip, he saw she was frozen in the process of injecting him with that clear liquid. He tore the syringe free, growling, “Nurse Green, you are in very serious trouble, missy!” He propped her upright where she sat, unmoving on his half-firm member, a seductive smile on her lips with her eyes suspiciously cast down. “Wulllyooooo…” he realized he wasn’t really sure what words had been trying to speak, and as he attempted to shove her from him, he found his arms could only limply push against her body as the room spun in a warm haze.

He ran his hands over her ample curves contentedly, noting the wealth of humming, grinding, and buzzing sounds this elicited from her. A magnetic droning from elsewhere in the room drew his attention, and he saw the frozen Grace was still on her hands with her legs spread, being enthusiastically serviced by Megan — however, her head looked like someone had turned on a bulb inside of it, the rapt expression across her mousy features hard to read against the peach-colored light shining from within.

“Oommmeg….” he slurred to the tawny blonde who lapped away at her classmate’s pussy while forcing Grace’s rigid hands to resume the rough pawing of her healthy breasts. Meg either did not hear or chose not to heed Max’s warning, and a few bright spires of electricity buzzed angrily from Grace’s open mouth before her entire face suddenly caught fire, flaring hotly for a brief moment before a concussive blast from inside her head extinguished the blaze as quickly as it started.

“Meguuyoooollllll,” Max instructed, but his erstwhile escort remained beneath her broken partner’s skirt. Giving up trying to influence her, he turned his attention back to the still-looming Nurse Green. Mustering a bit more control, he took his right hand, whose palm had been brushing up and down along the plush curve of her rump, and plugged her ass with his finger. Her head shined with peach-colored light; when he focused his will and gave a slight pump of his hips, she jostled, glowing brighter.

“''I'' have not failed this school,” a voice with a distinct metallic echo buzzed from inside of Nurse Green, who remained motionless. “''You'' have.”

Without a working tongue, he just gave her another thrust, her face brighter still.

“Your lack of patience and self-discipline,” she continued, quicker now, “means that whatever meager ''<unnnngh>'' pleasures you are able to wring from the little time you have left here will be ''nothing'' comp-''<ahhh>''-ared to what ''<ohhh>'' you could have had if… ''<ahhhhhh!>'' If you would only- ''<OHHHHHohhhhhhh>''” A burst of hissing, sizzling blue flame consumed her features, her last orgasmic cry melting into a deep register of digitized noise before getting cut off with a sudden bang. Staring down at him, Nurse Green’s face was an unrecognizable fusion of burnt machinery and charred circuitry streaming columns of smoke. Another blast from her midsection did him the courtesy of knocking her off of him. As she crashed into a smoldering jumble beside the table, Max flopped his legs over the side of the table, strenuously pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Megu,” he slurred to his escort, to no avail. Refocusing, he managed a distinct, “Megan!”

She popped her head out from under Grace’s skirt, her face and Grace’s thighs spattered in numerous fluids, oils, and some bright blue substance. “Yes, Max?”

“Hllp… trusrsss…” he groaned, gesturing limply at his legs.

“Did you want to g-g-go to the Headmaster now?”

He nodded with the assistance of his wavering torso. “Yss.”

Pushing the half-burnt ruin of Grace off of her, she quickly stood up. “You don’t look very well,” she frowned. “Perhaps N-nurse Green…” she looked at the contorted tangle of the Nurse’s faceless shell and then said, “Or…” and was left staring blankly at the ground.

“Trou… sers…” he tried again.

She sprang forward, but instead of retrieving him his clothes, she grabbed another syringe from the cabinet. “Nnononnnnonnn!” he protested, falling off the table in his attempt to escape, but Megan easily stuck him. He felt a sudden surge of energy as strength returned to his limbs. He sprang up and hugged his hapless companion tightly, kissing her firmly on her fluid-stained lips and parting with an excited, “Megan, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

She smiled brightly as one of her eyes ticked to the side.

Max pulled on his clothes, recovered the device, grabbed one of those ‘compliance’ syringes filled with glittering fluid, and lead Megan out into the hall where the students from Miss Belle’s history class were frozen in place, several exchanging odd glances or looking with suspicion toward the door.

As Megan braced herself against him and urged them both toward the Headmaster’s office, Max began to consider what other interesting detours they mind seek out.

==Part three==

"Maybe we should find Chloe from physics class," Max wondered aloud while walking down the empty Academy hall beside the damaged and stained (but still upright) Megan. "I always thought she might have a crush on me… or, I suppose, was programmed to have a crush on me…" His fembot companion made no comment.

"You know, despite her screeching, I've always had a thing for Miss Buckley," Max continued, thinking of the maths teacher. Whenever her lessons involved calculations along curved surfaces he would lapse into vivid daydreams, inevitably brought to an end by her shrieking at him to pay attention. "I imagine she's a wailing banshee in the sack…" Megan's gaze remained fixed forward, though her left eye would sometimes flutter to one side, amidst tiny mechanical sounds.

"Oh!" Max suddenly exclaimed, "I just realized that the swim team has their practice ''right now''!"

"Max, our priority isszzzzz the Headmaster," Megan gently reminded him.

"Perhaps the girl's swim team (in all of their perfectly toned, swimsuit-clad glory) will still be an option for me after I speak to the Headmaster," he said in a serious tone, "but I cannot leave such a thing to chance."

"Sorry, Max," called an unapologetic voice from behind him, "but you've kept the Headmaster waiting long enough."

Max turned and sighed. "Oh. You two."

The Academy's two prefects, Lucy and Jacob, were fast approaching. As with so much else since his revelation, their inhuman physical and academic perfection was suddenly well accounted for. Since they were just machines, it would have been easy to give them the bodies of an Adonis and an Aphrodite, easy to pre-load electronic minds with the course material he had to study for, and easy to power their seeming limitless drive and energy with batteries. Perhaps they were meant to serve as exemplars, given the way the students and faculty fawned over them, but he saw their accomplishments in a far more skeptical light.

"Mmmm… no, I think I'd prefer the swim team," Max announced, continuing to steer Megan toward the Academy's pool. A hand with a startlingly firm grip fell upon his shoulder.

"You're not listening, Max," Jacob muttered with a trace of annoyance through his straight and gleaming machine-tooled teeth. "The Headmaster-"

"Jacob," Max interrupted, "You seem… tense. Does he seem tense to you, Megan?"

His deteriorating fembot companion emitted a noncommittal, warbling buzz.

"Enough stalling," Jacob growled, his square jaw clenched, "If you won't cooperate willingly-"

"Megan," Max winced as Jacob's hands tightened painfully on his shoulder, "I think Jacob needs his cock sucked." The pressure from Jacob's hand stopped as the student robot glanced at the approaching and apparently compliant Megan.

"You what?" Jacob managed as Megan brushed Max aside and knelt down, her hands deftly working at the male prefect's trousers. Jacob released Max and pushed back Megan's grinning head as Lucy objected with a threatening, "Megan, get away from my-"

Max activated his device and the prefects froze. Megan, still immune to its effects, ducked under Jacob's outstretched hand, jerked his pants down, and took his member into her mouth. With a faint electrical hum, he was immediately hard, and Megan delivered soft moans between faint audio distortions as she slid her mouth along his shaft. The accelerated and ultimately damage-inducing arousal Max had seen in the frozen female robots seemed to affect the male model to an even greater degree – with every bob of Megan's head, the timbre of Jacob's internal machinery rose from inaudible toward distressed, telling of the failure of one or more systems that had been pushed past their operational thresholds.

"Might want to get clear, Megan," Max informed the still enthusiastically sucking robotic co-ed, but she paid him no heed, he lips and tongue further driving the male robot's systems into chaos. Max shrugged and hit the button.

"-boyfriend!" finished Lucy, her exclamation barely heard over the electrical and mechanical discord echoing throughout the hall from Jacob's shivering body.

"M-m-m-meeeg-g-gan!" Jacob managed, smoke rushing from his mouth as his eyes clenched shut, light shining red through his eyelids. "I-I-I-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-" his statement ended when his electricity-enshrouded head exploded in a gout of white fire followed by a violent spray of fluid and bluish vapor.

Lucy stared at her headless companion, her head twitching oddly as her face cycled through a range of incongruous expressions before settling her gaze on Max with a placid look. Max simply winked, momentarily ruining her composure as her head trembled in reaction.

"Fancy a trip to the pool, Lucy?" he asked. "Wait – aren't you on the team? Don't tell me you're ''truant''!"

"The Headmaster is waiting to explain everything, Max," Lucy said, perfectly calm. "He sent us to fetch you. You are not in any trouble, nor he is angry with you, but… his patience does have its limits."

"Fine," Max said with a sigh, then muttered under his breath, "…race you."

As her face registered confusion once more, he sprang into a run and rushed past her. Predictably, her insufferably competitive nature – ''programming'', Max mentally corrected – compelled her to sprint after him, her toned and bared legs pumping beneath her tweed skirt as she quickly gained on Max. When she passed him with a wry smirk on her lips, Max smiled back and thumbed the device.

Miss Belle had been in mid-stride during the device's activation and had managed to take another step to stabilize herself before freezing, but Lucy's imbalance was not so easily corrected. She fell, looking as though she would land on her face when her leg snapped forward and slammed her black brogue into the floor, pushing like a piston and causing her to spiral to one side into a wall-mounted drinking fountain. There was a flash and a pop from the collusion, then her body crumpled and fell on to the wooden floor.

Max brought her to her feet and noticed a tear in her blouse, beneath which he could see a small rent with exposed wiring in her otherwise smooth abdomen. Despite the damage, her legs worked to keep her upright as he lead her otherwise rigid form in the direction they had come from, passing Megan who was still busily fellating the headless body of Jacob.

"You really don't need to keep doing that," Max advised in passing.

"Mmmhffffuuu<bzzzzzz>!" Megan replied, showing no sign of abandoning her oral fixation.

As they neared the pool, Max carefully urged the frozen Lucy into a jog, then a run. When the doors leading to his intended destination loomed before them, he activated the device and ran ahead, taunting, "And here I thought you were on the track team!"

She blinked in confusion, but then poured on speed, blasting past him and through the door before coming to a stunned halt at the edge of the Academy's swimming pool.

Staring at her and then Max was the entire women's swim team, clustered at the shallow end. Every one of them wore an identical dark-blue spandex one-piece, their hair tucked beneath white swim-caps, conforming their appearances in a way that reinforced the idea they had all been stamped out in a factory somewhere.

That wasn't to say he couldn't tell them apart, though – he picked out Holly from her more enhanced curves, the waifish Millie with her perpetual look of boredom, Amelia and her freckles, Poppy's impressive height… Max grinned at the class, muttering, "This was definitely the right choice."

"Lucy!" a voice snapped, and his attention turned to the PE instructor, Miss Ashley. She was a tanned, slender woman, shorter than most of her students, whose low-zipped athletic jacket and white tank-top allowed a splendid view of her scrumptious bust. Knowing what she was, he now wondered if some sort of error during her fabrication had led to her chest's… overdevelopment? He remembered that when she had given that lecture on pool safety and struggled to get the lifering over her chest, he looked around to his classmates, expecting to share a laugh – but not one of them so much as batted an eye. Maybe none of the other robots saw her that way because they weren't programmed to – maybe he was the only one who registered those stupendous tits.

Miss Ashley shifted in her green trainers irritably, the supple calves above them wrapped tight in tall athletic socks. Then came her bare knees and toned thighs, the exposed skin ending in her tiny gym shorts. "You're late!"

Lucy's processors were apparently still struggling to put all of this together as she stammered, "Th-the Head-d-d-master…"

"And you, Max!" Miss Ashley continued, her bright blue eyes narrowing at him. "Truant and flouting the laws of the Academy!"

Max smiled and said, "Miss Ashley, if you'll permit me: I have an alternate lesson plan that I'd like to present to the class. And you are invited to participate as well, of course."

Miss Ashley looked shocked. "Max, the amount of trouble you are already in ''pales'' in comparison to what will happen if you do not turn around ''this very instant'' and return-"

During this exchange, Lucy was busily undressing herself. Max's attention had been divided between her and Miss Ashley, but he gave the malfunctioning premier student commanded his full notice when she pulled her top off and the shirt snagged on her damaged abdomen. Encountering resistance, Lucy pulled harder on her blouse, finally managing to rip it off, but not without widening the hole in her side, revealing the bundles of machinery and electronics within. Down to her bra and panties, the vacant-eyed fembot teetered briefly on her feet before executing a half-dive, half-fall into the pool, while her coach interrupted her scolding of Max to exclaim, "Lucy, what are you doing?!"

There was a sharp pop when she hit the water and the girls around her instantly began to shudder, arms stiff, eyes wide as smoke wafted between clenched teeth. A chain reaction spread throughout the team as every student stiffened and spasmed when she was caught in electrical bursts from one of her failing neighbors.

"Dammit, Lucy!" Max exclaimed as he watched his simple, humble dreams of a team-wide orgy going up in smoke. Amidst the symphony of twitching servos and frying electrical components, the towering Poppy was the first to go, her impressive height reduced significantly when her strangely smirking head blasted off like a champagne cork, landing with a splash on the far side of the pool.

The diminutive gossip Ruby slumped underwater and was then obscured by a sudden eruption of bubbles, her detached head resurfacing while slowly drawling, "Yoouuu won't believvvve what happened at swimmmm classssszzzzz…"

Millie, that morose girl with the low bangs, finally wore an expression of something other than bored disinterest as she grappled the curvaceous Holly who had been attempting to hoist herself out of the pool. Holly fell forward on to her bust with a wet smack, bent over the edge of the pool while her legs remained in the water. After a muffled blast from under her swim cap, Millie's head catapulted into the her teammates posterior and then detonated, and Holly gave a startled gasp before following suit, spraying her swim instructor and Max with sparks and fragments of rubber and plastic as her body rocked on its compressed cleavage.

The exuberant Amelia managed to vault completely out of the pool and strode toward her stunned coach. Electricity shot across her dripping-wet form, her body affected by soft rippling waves that subtly altered her physiology, most notably in the cresting of her breasts beneath the skin-tight spandex and the slight filling in of her backside as the suit's lining pinched deeper into her softening edges.

"Miss Ashely!" Amelia said excitedly as her nipples budded beneath a suit swelling with cleavage. "C-c-cannn I b-b-be excused? ''<bzzzzzzt!>'' I think-think-think IIIIII-"

"You're excused!" her coach hurriedly interjected. With a vacuous smile, Amelia spun on her heel and began an unsteady march to the door, while the last of her classmates broke down in the pool. Max wondered if she alone might actually make it out as she planted her legs firmly before the door, swung her arm out in an exaggerated gesture, and swung it back to grip the door handle. At that moment, two distinct tendrils of lightning crept up from her ankles until they joined in a flickering tongue of electricity between her thighs, and fused into a bright blue star before disappearing with a pulse when they met her groin. Her round buttocks plumped and then clenched, seeming to devour the back of her swimsuit and transforming it into a taught thong as she gasped, "Oooh!" Her body suddenly flared with color, glowing incandescent for a moment before she burst to apart in a rapid succession of sharp electrical explosions, falling into a buzzing, smoking tangle of limbs like a discarded mannequin.

The robotic girl's swim team was no more, the ruined components of most of its members at the bottom of an electrified pool. Max sighed and looked up at Miss Ashely, who seemed to be slowly regaining her composure.

"Max-" she began, her face softening into an assured, confiding smile.

"Let me guess – I need to see the Headmaster?"

"Yes, Max. He can explain-"

"You see, that's ''not'' really what I'm after. I find that as time goes on, I don't really ''care'' about an explanation."

Ashely blinked, her smile faltering briefly. "Well, whatever it is that you ''do'' desire, the Headmaster-"

He cut her off again. "The Headmaster hasn't been pretty fucking off-target with my desires thus far."

Her smile darkened, her voice hardening as she said, "So… you wish to defy the will of someone who has complete control over this entire facility, yourself included. How do you expect this to end for you should you upset him?"

"But why go to see some stodgy administrator when I'm having so much ''fun''?" he asked, readying the device. "Here, this should help you to empathize with my present situation." He punched the button and Miss Ashley froze with a skeptical look on her face. Max pulled off her thin athletic jacket, her plump cleavage practically bursting through her fitted white tank-top. Max gave her awe-inspiring breasts a hands-on appraisal and found them unusually taught and springy, adding credence to his ‘glitched-tits' theory. Sweat was now glistening across their rounded surface, and he used the device to turn her back on. The robotic instructor let out a sharp gasp, her fingers jerking to her chest and then shying away as she steadied her gaze on Max. "You… you need to see…"

"A bit more fine-tuning," Max muttered, freezing her again. He brushed her hips, sliding his hands over the smooth fabric of her minimal exercise shorts, tracing the curve of her well-formed bottom, slipping his hand beneath to feel her silky skin growing warmer at his touch. He delivered a light squeeze and experienced a swell of warmth. Were her components trying to mimic a human response, or simply venting excess heat as he overloaded them with a situation she was not programmed to handle?

This time when she was unfrozen, she gave a low moan and staggered into Max, her hand raking across his chest. "M-m-maxxx…" she whispered, "y-you need to s-seeee…" She hesitated, then tore off her tank top. Before her buoyant tits could settle from their violent liberation, she was on him, her mouth crushed against his as she attacked his trousers. The moment he had worked her skimpy shorts down to her knees, she gave a limber flex of a toned leg and was free of them, still wearing her dainty green trainers and socks. With athletic poise she speared herself upon his raging erection (whose solidity shocked even him, given its recent activities). She gave a digitally fluctuating moan, and he could feel an electrical prickling as her tight sex forced its way along his shaft.

As the two tumbled on to a rubber exercise mat, Max couldn't help but provoke a reaction by remarking, "You, know you were right – I really ought to see the Headmaster now."

Her teeth clenched, lights behind her blue eyes sparking. Her rhythmic thrusting ground to a shuddering halt with her heated pelvis resting against his, and she managed to stammer, "Y-y-yesss, g-g-go to the He-he-headmasterrrr-"

He gripped her tits and said, "Then again, I ''am'' enjoying myself…"

With a strangely reverberating groan, she pushed his hands against her overripe breasts and it slipped between her twin melons drenched in simulated sweat. "Th-then fuck meeee!" she whimpered, the engine of her hips sputtering to life as he fondled her apparently hypersensitive bust, moans of rapturous pleasure escaping from her with their every caress.

"But I ''have'' kept him waiting quite a while…"

Her once smoothly pumping ass bucked in violent shudders before she stopped halfway along his length. Smoke rose from her ears and electricity flitted over her spasming features, her brown pony-tail inexplicably pointing up and kinking like a query mark as if to highlight her confusion, her flashing eyes straying in random directions. "No-yes-yes-no, y-you mussszzzzt-"

"Then again, he could probably stand to wait a bit more…"

As her machinery fought contradicting instructions, her quivering pelvis convulsed along his cock in completely arrhythmic thrusts. Her face flushed unnaturally pink as she took on a look of complete confusion, eyes growing wide as she panted, "System errorrrr corrruptionnnnn- "

"But knowing that he wouldn't like it if-"

With a noise that was equal parts exasperated moan and sharp mechanical squeal, the back of Miss Ahsley's head exploded, her flushed face looking at him with a delirious, absent smile while her hips gave a final thrust, then she eased forward in a gentle collapse across him. Her steadily firming bust was near frictionless with synthetic sweat as she slid off of his chest and rolled to one side. Glancing at her he was met by the back of her head, an uneven protrusion of metal and sparking wire.

"Well…" Max muttered, staring at the off-white expanse of the pool's ceiling while Miss Ashley's robotic body twitched faintly with a whir, "…now what?"

When the question went unanswered by his own thoughts or any other party, he got dressed and strolled back down the hall where he found Megan still on her knees. Jacob's headless body convulsed with a small electrical surge at every movement of Megan's mouth.

"I admire your dedication," Max remarked.

Megan gave a muffled moan, but remained at her present task. Max looked around, wondering if and when there would be another ‘summons' after the two prefects had failed to retrieve him…. and what form that summons might take.

"You know, I think I ''will'' go and see the Headmaster," Max announced.

Megan popped off of Jacob's cock and gave an upbeat, "OK!" Released from her care, Jacob's body popped and fizzed for a moment before crumpling into a smoldering heap. With a trembling rattle in her knees, the fembot rose to her feet and began a faltering shuffle toward the Headmaster's office, glancing over her shoulder to beckon Max with a crooked smile before her head snapped forward once more. He matched the pace of the teetering robot, who took his hand to steady her lopsided gait.

"How w-was the swimmmm team?" she asked, and Max thought he heard the hint of a suggestion in her voice.

"Oh… not quite what I'd hoped for," he sighed. "And at this rate, the Academy is going to run out of students by the week's end."

With a sudden tick of her neck followed by a much gentler motion, she inclined her head on his shoulder, "In the end, ''we're'' ex-x-pendabllle," she said lazily. "''You're'' the one he wants to p-p-preserve."

"Well," Max said, eying the door to the headmaster's office ahead of them. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

==Part four==
The moment Max stepped into the office, he heard a voice far more firm than polite state, “Please, have a seat.” It was Miss Brookes, the Headmaster's well-coiffed personal assistant, behind an impressively large and conspicuously empty desk. Beyond the *antique* leather sofa she had indicated, the whole room was furnished matching weathered but well cared for dark wood furniture. Given the recent exposure of the Academy’s facade, Max had to wonder if this all wasn't as fake as the blonde secretary fixing him with her impassive blue eyes.

Because he had had little interaction with the headmaster, he had had little interaction with her –but he had always admired the Headmaster's apparent tastes - sleek and tanned and wearing pristine whites, he was always aware of her presence from the brisk click of her heels as she moved through the halls on her errands. Despite the capricious authority she represented, any anxiety upon seeing her was offset by her flawless beauty, her golden hair perfectly parted, her trim curves a captivating silhouette beneath her spotless white skirt and blouse. Of all the robotic faculty, she seemed the apex of a finely tuned machine, every movement and statement made with no question of intent.

In stark contrast to the smoothly operating secretary, the buzzing and sputtering Megan followed Max, falling against him as one of her jittering legs gave out. She emitted a digitized "Oops!" her eyes eventually swiveling to meet his from behind tangles of honey-blonde curls. “I think I might be sick-dizzy-sleepy-horrrrrny!" she exclaimed in rapid succession, leaning heavily on his arm.

"Megan, you are to report to the nurse immediately," Miss Brookes stated.

"Already did!" Megan chirped as Max eased her on to the couch where she slumped awkwardly in her rumpled uniform. He gave her a reaffirming pat before walking straight to the Headmaster's door. Miss Brookes quickly stood and blocked his access, reiterating, "The Headmaster will see you when he is ready- until then, you must take a seat."

Max looked at the stern secretary's unyielding expression and smiled. "I think both the headmaster and I have kept each other waiting long enough." He thumbed the control in his pocket to immobilize her, and she gave a slight shudder - but when he tried to push her aside, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully.

"You will wait," she stated as she lead him by his pained wrist to the couch. Though she was obviously not frozen by Max’s device, her movements were stiffer than before, lacking her former graceful efficiency, and accompanied by the audible whining of servos. He tried the remote again, but to no effect - she forced him down on to the couch, glowered at him as if daring him to try something, and gave a rigid pivot to return to her desk.

"Plan B, I suppose," he muttered, producing the syringe full of 'compliance' from his jacket pocket and thumbing the cap free. As she stepped away, Max jabbed the needle through her skirt and into the tantalizing curve of her posterior. Once more she stiffened, her machinery emitting a growing buzzing sound.

"Show me to the headmaster if you please," Max said, nearly sinking the needle in the bin. Megan let out a sympathetic coo of disappointment, then a profusion of sparks.

"Error," Miss Brookes stated plainly, turning to him with a blank expression. "Priority conflict, corruption in decision matrix."

"Well, maybe don't worry your pretty little head," Max said, stepping toward the door. "I'll see myself in."

With a chorus of mechanical whirring, Miss Brookes put herself between him and the door, placed her fingers upon the handle, and froze. "Error," she said, her head twitching, thin wisps of smoke beginning to rise from beneath her blonde hair.

Max put his hand over hers, receiving a jolt of electricity, and forced her to turn the handle - but just as the door began to open, the malfunctioning secretary jerked it shut and slammed herself into Max, her body feverishly hot.

"Perhaps I c-can get you somethinnnng while you wait-t-t?" she buzzed, her tanned cleavage heaving despite a distinct lack of breath.

"The door, Miss Brookes," Max commanded, though he could feel his resolve weakening as she hitched up her skirt, a white thong tucked between her bronzed cheeks, marred by a small pink dot where the needle had struck.

"Error!" she groaned, collapsing into him, her body now slick with artificial perspiration, her white clothes clinging to her wet curves. "Unable to follow priority command, p-please issue new directivvvvvve!" She was panting now, her hands tugging at her thong as she pleaded, "Max, would you n-not preferrr to-"

Suddenly, the soaked and smoking fembot released her grip upon Max as Megan buried her face into the secretary's ass, tearing her thong off and plunging her tongue into the stunned robot's pussy. She immediately began to convulse, electricity creeping around her formerly perfect hair, stammering, "Mmmmmmegan, you are interfeeeering with violation in decision you must please to nnnurse for immediate dis-dis-mantling!"

"Good, isn't she?" Max remarked, stepping back toward the headmaster's door.

"Stop!" Miss Brookes barked, "You must waiiiii-" her command ended in a wail as Megan plunged deeper, rising on her knees to lift Miss Brookes into the air. The secretary writhed, suspended upon the schoolgirl's face, her tanned legs kicking helplessly as her failing machinery squealed in protest.

Max stepped into the Headmaster's office. There, behind a polished oak desk and surrounded by shelves neatly lined with leather-bound books was a tan, blond gentleman in a crisp white suit. His handsome, square-jawed face was unperturbed by the malfunction-laden cries of distress and pleasure from his secretary in the other room, and similarly betrayed no emotion as Max approached. He simply closed the ledger before him and set aside his pen before folding his hands on his desk.

"Headmaster," Max said evenly.

“Max,” the Headmaster responded with a hint of disdain. “You’ve shown yourself to be quite obstinate today.”

Max gave a shrug. “You wanted to see me-” A muffled explosion from the adjacent room caused Max to flinch, and he finished, “Well, here I am.”

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. “I suspect you think you’re entitled to an explanation.”

“If you like.”

The Headmaster blinked, which Max chose to read as him being completely gobsmacked. “So you think you have all the answers?”

“I’m the only human in a school full of robots, and someone who either likes me or doesn’t like you taught me how to make this-“ he flashed the device “-to upend all your hard work.”

For a brief moment, the Headmaster pursed his lips. “And you find this sufficient? How incurious of you.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d believe a single word of explanation from you, so let’s get to what matters – either I’ve compromised whatever it is you have going on here or you still have use for me and you’re willing to deal. If it’s the former, then I’ll be on my way-“

“To where, exactly?”

“Whatever’s over those walls.”

The Headmaster smirked.

“Or I suppose you’ll imprison me or kill me or whatever. But if you want to make a deal, I’d like to hear your offer.”

There was a long pause as the Headmaster scrutinized Max, his slender, perfectly manicured fingers drumming exactly once across his desk. “I would propose you return to your studies and graduate.”

Max snorted. “I’m going to need a new history teacher.”

“You need not fret - Miss Belle will be ready for tomorrow’s lesson, with no recollection of today’s mischief.”

Something about the utter lack of concern, the assuredness in the Headmaster’s voice really ate at Max – but he was damned if he was going to show it. “Fine. Excellent. First thing in the morning, then.”

“Max, I don’t think you’re committing to this in good faith.”

It took every ounce of Max’s self-control not to snap – this had to be a deliberate provocation. This man wanted to talk about [/i]good faith[/i] after lying to him for his entire life?

The Headmaster continued in a voice like satin. “It would help to ease my suspicion if you would ask for something in return.”

“Ma-“. Max stopped himself. He was surprised at how reflexively her name came to his lips – Maya, his first real girlfriend, the one who had sacrificed herself for him… Or, as he had come to realize, Maya had been his robot girlfriend, sent to him when he began to stray from his path, and who had ultimately set him back on it more firmly than any threat or reward ever could. But despite all that, he still longed to see her again. And this was all likely the design of this smug prick sitting across from him.

“What was that?” the Headmaster quietly asked.

Fuck you, Headmaster was what he thought, but it came out, “Megan.”

There was a slight tic in the Headmaster’s brow. “What about Megan?”

“I want her to remember today’s mischief.”

Max felt himself once more under the Headmaster’s scrutiny. “Why don’t we just make her your girlfriend. It would be easier to do that than-“

“Look, I’ll be there on time for history class, and for every class right up until I graduate as your diligent pupil with perfect marks for attendance. I’ll do my homework, I’ll press my uniform, and I’ll have lights out at nine pm sharp. Here-“ he tossed the remote device on the Headmaster’s desk. “But Megan remembers.”

The headmaster took the device, turning it over in his hands. “Very well, Max.” He carefully deposited the device in a door that opened and shut with a whisper. “Megan will ‘remember’.”

Uncertain in this victory, Max fidgeted in his chair, while the Headmaster seemed content to sit in silence. Unable to bear it any longer, Max stood.

“I shall see you at graduation,” the Headmaster stated with certainty, opening the ledger in front of him. Max made his way to leave the room, pulling open the door to find the headless wreck of Miss Brookes sparking just beyond. Megan sat just behind her on her haunches, her face and hair plastered with lubricant and robotic fluids, her uniform a total mess, as she stared into the distance with a banal smile.

“You’re also going to need a new secretary,” Max grumbled.

“You’ve had a difficult morning,” the Headmaster coolly replied. “Why not take the rest of the day off.”

Megan’s attention snapped to Max with a whir of machinery, her smile broadening. “H-hello, Mmmax!”

Stooping down, he lifted her to her feet, but her knees seemed to buckle whenever he stopped supporting her.

“Th-the Headmaster c-can help me-me-me!” she said in cheery stammer.

Max ducked down and slid his arm behind her legs, hoisting her in a bridal carry. She was lighter than when he first tried to move her in the shower, and he was able to bring her out of the Headmaster’s office and take a steady pace towards his own dormitory.

The Academy was empty, Max’s footsteps echoing through the deserted halls while Megan’s legs idly twitched and whirred, her bare thighs warm and against his forearms. “Wh-where are we g-going?” Megan asked with a slight giggle.

“My room.”

“M-Max!” she said, her face in shock. “I c-can’t b-b-be in the boy’s d-dormitory!” Even in her deteriorated state, even knowing she was wholly artificial, the coy look she gave him with her honey-colored ringlets spilling over her half-lidded eyes sent his heart racing. “What are you p-p-planninnnng?”

To fuck your silicon brains out? Only that wasn’t it. “Megan,” he said, surprised that her name caught in his throat. “I just… I need someone to know what happened today, someone I can talk to, even if… even if she’s just a robot.”

“I’m n-not a ro-bot-bot-bot, Max!” Megan laughed, sparks trickling from her head.

“Today was… You genuinely helped me today, and you’re in this sorry state because of me, and I don’t even know if it makes sense to… to feel guilt, or gratitude, or even… like…”

Megan kissed him, the feeling electric – literally – with a strange tang from the fluids left by Miss Brookes. It felt both artificial and spontaneous and he realized there was no way they were making it all the way to his room. Breaking from her lips to find somewhere for the them, he settled on the teacher’s lounge and fumbled his way through the door, still holding her in his arms and returning her kisses with matched fervor. Stumbling through an obstacle course of chairs and tables, he finally collapsed with her on to a couch. Already her hands were at his trousers, his in her blouse, and soon both were shed, followed by the undergarments beneath. With his kisses trailing down her neck to her ample breasts humming with an electric buzz, he entered her bare, sweltering sex beneath her tweed skirt.

Her voice skipped in pitch, fluctuating synthetically as he thrust into her again and again, his hands squeezing breasts that felt strangely tacky from the intense heat of her malfunctioning body. Servos in her legs whirred uselessly as her entire chassis was rocked by Max’s unbridled enthusiasm, what little control she had being channeled into meeting his relentless hips with bucking of her own. “Alll forrrr y-youuu, M-max!” she squealed, smoke rising from her trembling lips. “All f-forrr – Ahhhh!” Warmth and wetness surged around Max, a string of electric bursts erupting inside her, patches of her tanned skin searing with light. He brought his lips from her tits to her smoking mouth, ignoring the acrid taste to kiss her deeply as he throbbed in explosive release, his hands squeezing her irrepressibly round ass while the bundled artificial musculature spasmed beneath its smooth synthetic surface. A sudden powerful shock from her made him see stars, leaving him tensed and numb.

Gradually sensation came back to him through the feel of her soft and warm body, her thoroughly drenched sex, her itchy, rumpled skirt, her damp honey curls. Her body twitched and hummed, and he couldn’t tell if the occasional moan and sigh from her was a sign of her cognizance or just the malfunctioning vocalizations of a broken robotic schoolgirl. He could empathize either way, feeling incapable of saying much of anything, his consciousness not worth the trouble of holding on to…

Max awoke alone in his own bed, a glance at his clock telling him it was Monday morning – again? That couldn’t have been a dream - he remembered too much, it was simply too lucid for it not to have been real, and yet – robots? Ridiculous. He realized he didn’t have a lot of time before history class, and used the mindless routine of getting ready as a way to put off the impossible thoughts swirling in his head.

Crossing the yard, he avoided eye contact with his fellow classmates, and none pressed him on his sullen mood – at least until spied Megan waiting on the steps of the main entrance. She was lovely as ever, her hair neatly pulled back, her uniform fitted perfectly, her movement graceful and without any accompanying mechanical sound as she descended the steps to meet him. “You seem to be in a mood,” she said with a wry smile.

Max could only stare at first, unable to formulate the question. “Did we… are you…?”

“Oh dear,” Megan said, pulling him out of the stream of students entering the building, drawing a few curious glances at this uncharacteristic fraternization. “Were you so adamant that I remember everything just because you couldn’t be arsed to?”

He felt giddy, light headed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her. He leaned in, and she gave him a swat across the cheek. “Are you daft?” she hissed. “We’ve got class! And you made a commitment.”

“Yeah, but… we could… I mean, if this is all for my benefit, why do you need to go to gym class?”

“Why not?” she said, giving his reddened cheek a gentle pat. “You knowing I’m there should help you imagine me in my tight little shorts~”

Max swallowed, trying to find the ideal opening argument for them to skip class and fuck in the hedge row when the five-minute bell sounded.

“That’s me,” Megan said, glancing around at the now empty yard before leaning in to give him a small kiss on his cheek. “Get to class. And try not to break Miss Belle again!” She spun on her heel to leave, slipping from his grip as she sprinted toward the gym.

He watched her run with an aching desire to chase her – it was easy to imagine how the ensuing moments would play out, and to extrapolate them into another day of debauchery, regardless of any promises made to the Headmaster. But beyond that… he didn’t know. And if he followed the path set before him, the one he had pledged himself to, he still didn’t know what would happen… or, even more troubling, what he wanted to happen.

Max dutifully climbed the stairs and made sure he was in his seat with a sharpened pencil in hand by the ringing of the final bell. Miss Belle was soon repeated the opening of yesterday’s lecture on the history of the Empire’s conquests, and Max began scribbling plans for a new remote device of his own design.
-----

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[[Category:LongTimeLurker]]
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Nihilistic

2022-08-05T15:01:45Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Part two */

=Nihilistic=
==Part one==
Surrounded by an abrupt silence, Max looked about him in disbelief, then back to the device in his hands, a rough amalgam of wires, radio parts, and a component of unknown origin. After fruitless experimentation with the device in what little personal time he had, checking and re-checking that he had followed those mysterious instructions to the letter, an idle press of its solitary button during class had finally revealed its function — it could stop time.

With a faint ‘click’, everything in the classroom, his fellow students, their history teacher, Miss Belle, all of them froze, motionless, not so much as a breath stirring them. Nervously, he pressed the button again; to his great relief, time was immediately restored. Miss Belle continuing to scratch upon the chalkboard the various names and dates that chronicled the collapse of nations that had once been The Empire’s feckless enemies, the harsh sound underscored by the faint rasp of two-dozen pencils as her students dutifully copied everything down.

Miss Belle seemed to sense his distraction and turned her imperious gaze upon him. “Max, do you have something more important to do than — what is that?”

He quickly brought the device beneath his desk, but Miss Belle was already advancing quickly, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her tone becoming increasingly stern, she repeated, “I ''asked'' you, what is-“ he thumbed the button, halting her progress mid-stride - but he noted that instead of immediately freezing, she finished her step, both feet firmly on the ground before she stopped completely.

He looked around the room again and realized the clock still ticked away seconds — outside the window, a breeze stirred through the trees hedging the Academy’s sprawling manicured grounds, grey clouds moving in the distance. It wasn’t freezing time, he realized, just the people around him. He carefully put the device on the floor, took up a pencil and a sharpener, and triggered the button with the toe of his shoe.

“-that thing you’re holding?” Miss Belle resumed, striding up to his desk. He presented his hands, and she seemed deeply troubled what she saw, her dark lashes fluttering in confusion. “I… pencil…?”

Max said nothing, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from seeing his beautiful yet unfailingly harsh instructor so bewildered. “Yes, well — this time is for taking notes, not sharpening pencils.” She pivoted and strode back to the board. “You will remain after class and prepare a stock of pencils for yourself and your classmates by sharpening my entire supply-“

He clicked the button with his toe, then leisurely stood up and walked past his frozen fellow students, humming the chorus of the Empire’s bombastic anthem to himself. Rummaging through her impeccably organized cabinet, he found her ridiculously vast stockpile of pencils and pulled every box. Thinking that he should do more than simply throw them in the class’s bin, he returned to his desk to claim the device and stepped into the hall.

''You’ve got a bloody [b]time machine[/b] — or something of the sort — and you’re wasting it on pencils?'' He was, after all, an adult now, along with every other student at this school, all on the cusp of “graduation” — and this current use of his newfound powers seemed incredibly puerile.

“Why not the girl’s locker room?” he said with a start, and began heading toward the gym, tossing the pencils at his earliest convenience.

Moving through the dimly lit dark wood halls of the Academy, Max could not help but feel on-edge. Its many rules were strictly enforced, every student’s time tightly controlled, going back as far as his earliest memories of childhood here — if he were caught out of class, unable to explain himself, he would lose what precious free time he had, possibly meals as well.

But how would he be caught? He had stopped time, hadn’t he? As he passed by a classroom door, he cautiously glanced through the window to see students intently taking notes, untouched by the device’s effects. What sort of range did it have? Would the stoppage ‘wear off’ in Miss Belle’s classroom? As other questions about its use and limitations came to mind, he had to face the most obvious ones — what was it ''for''? And who had wanted him to have it?

Two nights ago, Max found a folded sheet of paper and a wafer-thin component tucked into an engineering textbook. The paper was covered in impeccably written directions on how to construct some sort of transmitter, how to attach the component to the finished product. There was no hint as to what it might do or who had created the schematics or the tiny component itself, but these were not great concerns to Max. Obviously they had intended for him to have it… and in the absence of instruction, they presumably were leaving its use to his own judgment.

Arriving at the girl’s locker room, he considered that this might be a test from one of his instructors, and that ogling his female co-eds in the shower was not likely to earn him passing marks. But this was not how tests at the Academy were conducted; there was never any room for creativity, only the rote memorization and regurgitation of whatever subject they were studying. Looking at the clock, he believed that class C would be getting ready for P.E. Before he could give any real thought to the moral implications of his actions, Max hit the button on the device and stepped through the door.

The scene was less engaging that he would have thought, the tableau of students frozen in their underwear far more clinical than titillating. Girls he had known throughout his years at the Academy were in various stages of undress — but they all seemed so… inert. All of them staring blankly forward, methodically getting out of their uniforms and into their gym clothes. He supposed it was silly to think he would find a private show full of girls in pin-up poses, but this…

Following the sound of running water, he rounded a corner and immediately forgot to breathe. There stood the surpassingly lovely Megan, frozen in the steaming shower. Shining rivulets ran over her statue-still body, tributaries collecting in streams that flowed over her pert curves — she would not have looked out of place as the marble centerpiece in a fountain of frolicking naiads. She held her golden hair back with both hands, facing the stream, her lips slightly parted, water overflowing from her mouth…

Upon registering that last detail, Max rushed to her in a panic — were her lungs flooded with water!? When he unfroze her, would she drown? Was she drowning already? He grabbed her beneath her raised arms and pulled her free of the shower, finding her heavier than anticipated — his foot slipped on the wet tile, and he dropped her before falling himself on to the hard floor.

There was a sharp pain in his tailbone, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Megan had fallen on her side, still locked in that nymphean pose — she seemed unharmed, except her face was… ''askew''. As if it were a mask on crooked, only partially concealing something beneath, something silver and glinting. Max leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in this ‘gap’ between her face and her head. ''Was that… machinery?''

A sudden bright burst of electricity flared from her temple as her blue eyes snapped open, staring directly at him — Max gave a startled cry, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the locker room, halfway back to his classroom before he managed to stop himself. He realized his device was not stopping time it all — it was an on / off switch for robots. Oh, and by the way, just one more tidbit — everyone he had known his entire life was apparently a machine.

He wondered if he ought to be outraged or upset or if he was simply going insane — for in truth, he felt none of these things at all, but rather, a powerful curiosity. In a lot of ways, the Academy made more sense to him now that before he knew he was surrounded by robots. Of ''course'' his classmates could effortlessly breeze through subjects that seemed designed specifically for his torment: ''they'' were just following programming, ''he'' actually had to learn this stuff. But why? For whose benefit? ''Why go through all this trouble?''

Max tried to think if there was anyone he might suspect was human. There was the nebulous headmaster, the authority he had never actually seen, who seemed to exist more as a vengeful deity than an actual person. Perhaps the transfer student, Maya Green, his former girlfriend and partner in crime, right up until her expulsion.

He had found her so unlike everyone else in this place, spontaneous, willing to take risks… affectionate! But he had to consider that she had been a robot too, one programmed to serve as a cautionary tale instead of another perfect student to emulate. If so, it had worked, hadn’t it? When they were both caught committing the grave offense of trying to escape the school grounds, Maya had pleaded desperately to the Disciplinarian on his behalf, tears streaming down her pretty, freckled face from those dark, almond-shaped eyes. She claimed it had all been her idea, that she had pressured Max into it, refuting Max’s insistence that he was the one behind it all. In the end, she was expelled while he was allowed to remain — and before she left, never to be seen again, Maya drew from him a promise her that he would not squander her sacrifice, that he would stay out of trouble, if only for her sake. A promise he had kept, to this day.

''To hell with it,'' he decided. ''Now it’s time to play''.

Max returned to the frozen diorama of his classroom, carefully scrutinizing Miss Belle and his fellow classmates. Even knowing they were all machines, he just couldn’t see it. He went in for a closer look at Miss Belle, her soft brown eyes staring straight ahead, her red lips parted mid-syllable, her mahogany hair in a bun wound almost as tightly as she was — but no matter how closely he looked or where he touched her cold, satin skin, he could not discern where her face might ‘detach’ in the way Megan’s had.

He idly undid the buttons on her blouse and parted the white fabric — beneath he saw the creamy hemispheres of her bountiful chest, cupped in a floral print bra, frilled in lace — but all of it unmistakably human. A thought struck Max, and he pulled off her blouse completely, then returned to his desk and activated the transmitter. Miss Belle continued right where she had left off, discussing his punishment, “-so that no one else will need to spend time fiddling at their desk instead of taking notes. Now then…” Miss Belle picked up the chalk and resumed her lecture, apparently oblivious of her missing apparel. He glanced at his fellow classmates, noticing brief flashes of confusion on their faces of each as they looked up to see far more of their teacher than they were accustomed — and just as quickly, every one of them seemed to accept the situation and resume their note-taking.

Max froze the room again and approached Miss Belle, unfastening the grey tweed pencil skirt that hugged her hips and offered tantalizing glimpses to the exquisite form of her round backside. Sliding the skirt down, he carefully took her ankle and lifted — she cooperated, balancing on one foot, then the other as he stepped her out of the grey fabric. Her matching floral panties were a snug fit against her pale, perfect rump, and he gave her cheek an appraising squeeze — her soft skin was initially cold to the touch, but warmed under his caress, pink blossoming beneath the smooth, fair surface. Not wanting to get carried away, he hastily disposed of the skirt and returned to his desk, activating the device once more.

Just as before, she continued her lecture in her underwear, her forceful gestures at the chalkboard sending delightful tremors through her voluptuous form. His classmates had additional difficulty when they noticed their instructor’s new state of undress, and not all of them recovered. To his immediate right, Grace (programmed, as near as he could tell, to be a condescending know-all) seemed to be having particular trouble. Her cute head wobbled strangely upon her neck, her typically-smug expression now screwed-up in confusion.

Max leaned close to her and whispered, “Where did her skirt go?”

Her hazel eyes darted between him and their teacher, her head-tremors worsening. “M-M-Miss Belle,” Grace stammered, ineffectually brushing aside the auburn bangs that kept falling across her eyes as her head shook. “I-I-IIIIIII fffffeeeelllll… funnyyyyy…” She took on a digitized tremulo whenever her voice caught on a vowel, her pink her lips not quite synchronized with her words.

The teacher turned and looked at her favorite pupil with distaste. “Well, go to the nurse!” Surveying the rest of the class and evidently seeing something she did not like in her students, she asked, “What is going on with all of you?”

“We’re all just wondering why you’re in your underwear,” Max said calmly. A few barks of artificial laughter sounded from the class, but were sharply cut off by Miss Belle’s glower. He noticed ticks spreading across the room while Grice rose, moving stiffly yet quickly toward the door.

Miss Belle glanced down at herself and gasped in surprise, backing against the wall while doing her best to cover her immodesty with her hands. “I d-d-do not understannnnnd-“ she groaned, looking about helplessly. A moment later her head snapped sharply forward and she straightened, relaxing her arms at her sides, crisply announcing, “Class dismissed.”

The students rose, some with great difficulty, colliding with one another in their awkward shuffle out the door. A few annoyed remarks of, “Watch where you’re going,” or “Excuse you,” could be heard, but they were all delivered in flat, impersonal tones. With the last of them gone, Miss Belle sat at her desk, staring blankly ahead.

In the ludicrously prolonged silence that followed, Max couldn’t help but crack a smile. Finally, he prompted her with, “Miss Belle, am I dismissed?” he said.

“''You'' have quite a bit of sharpening to do,” she proclaimed, suddenly animate as she strode to the supply cabinet, opening the drawer that had held the pencils — she stared blankly at the empty space for several moments, before wordlessly pushing it shut.

“Trouble, Miss Belle?” Max asked, casually approaching her.

“That is not your concern,” she said flatly. “And you are still to be reprimanded for your disruptive behavior. You… you will… you…”

“I have an idea or two,” he said with a smirk.

“And I’ll have no more of this cheek from you!” she insisted her elegant features narrowing in suspicion.

Max hit the button and once more she froze, her cross expression preserved. ”Miss Belle, you’re so tense!” he exclaimed. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Sliding his hand into the cup of her bra, he fondled the softness beneath, feeling a spreading warmth, her nipple hardening visibly even through the padded cup. “Better already!” he remarked, then slipped his hand down the front of her panties, gliding through the tuft of hair, fingers caressing and then moving within her chilled labia — in an instant, he could feel heat coming from her, her face suddenly flush with a rosy glow. He withdrew his hand and unfroze her.

“''<Hahhhhh!>''” she gasped, chest heaving, one of her hands taking hold of the breast he had just released, the other cupping lightly over her groin. She held it there, trembling, before a finger shyly pressed in against the fabric of her panties, soliciting another gasp. Max approached put his arms around her, taking hold of her rump, reacquainting himself with her familiar softness with a tender squeeze.

She stared at him in stunned surprise, her red lips gaping as she struggled to find her voice. Suddenly, her head snapped rigidly into place, her expression resetting to its customary haughtiness as she said, “Come with me.”

She broke from him and walked stiffly to her desk, then turned to face him, stating, “Take off your uniform.”

“If you insist,” Max said with an exaggerated sigh, and was soon naked before her.

“Now, remove my undergarments.”

He slid her panties down her shapely legs, taking the opportunity to retrace those elegant lines with his fingertips as he stood. She ignored this bit of foreplay, spun on her heel, and bent over her desk, brazenly presenting her porcelain white derriere and still-flushed sex. “Make love to me,” she demanded airily. “If you are able to perform to even the most modest of standards, we shall consider your punishment served.”

With another forced sigh, Max entered her slowly, her body tensing at the introduction. He took hold of her cool, white hips, rapidly bringing her to warmth and color as her cushioned backside compressed against him.

“I… would have… expected more from you,” she announced between quiet grunts, casually undoing her bun and shaking her lustrous mahogany hair loose over her pale shoulders, then resting once more on her forearms. “You do realize… you’re attempting to… pleasure ''me'', correct?”

Noting her physical response was far more reserved now than when she was frozen, Max leaned over and hit the device, her body abruptly stiffening. He gave her a few quick thrusts, her body reacting vigorously to every push with a rush of warmth and fluid, her smooth skin soon coated in a sheen of sweat. When he unfroze her, her legs buckled as she wailed in ecstasy, trying to stifle her cries with the back of her hand. Her body succumbed to a series of convulsions, and for the first time since he discovered what she truly was, she betrayed something of her mechanical nature beyond freezing — a high-pitched mechanical squeal from inside her chest.

“Well…” she panted, pausing as another shiver passed through her, the squeal quieting. “I suppose that will have to do. If you’re done, that will be all.”

“I’d rather not leave you wanting, Miss Belle,” Max said, casually massaging her sweat-soaked posterior.

“And as per usual,” she said, her voice with its trademark condescension, “your abilities fall well short of your ambitions.”

With a chuckle, Max said, “I’m going to enjoy this,” and tapped the device, freezing her mid-sigh.

After a series of thrusts brought her back up to a feverish temperature, he withdrew and rolled her on to her back, manually coaxing her legs down from her ‘standing’ position amidst the protest of whining servos. He pulled off her bra, her impressive breasts jostling lose, his hands massaging them as he entered her once more. Her face remained frozen mid eye-roll, but as he glided in and out of her, his hands fondling her chest, he saw tremors beneath the surface of her wet skin, her lips quavering, her eyelashes developing minute ticks. He leaned in to kiss her red lips, feeling them quiver in response as the mechanical squeal from her first orgasm returned, now accompanied by a strange buzzing. Despite her immobility, her face was slowly shifting from indifference to rapt ecstasy, her sex radiating heat, her body glistening.

He pulled out of her and re-oriented himself, sliding a cock awash in her fluids into her mouth, bringing his lips to her simmering sex. He devoured her pussy, his hands gripped tight against her pillowy thighs as her mouth slowly trembled to a close around his manhood. He began feel a faint electrical flicker across his tongue as he serviced her, and the mechanical sounds of her internal machinery went from a mere curiosity to a distressing series of pops and bangs. When he dismounted her, Max saw areas of her shapely body glowing incandescent, a burning smell filling the air as dozens of tiny tremors ran through her form.

“Satisfied, Miss Belle?” Max asked, hitting the device.

Her response was closer to a siren than any human voice, an ear-splitting wail as her back arched, her arms flailing uselessly, the mechanical cacophony inside of her reaching a shrieking crescendo. There was some internal detonation and Miss Belle tumbled from her desk, her smoldering body landing at Max’s feet, charred machinery visible through her damaged frame.

“C-c-class disssmisssszzzzzz''<bzzzzt>''” she moaned, twitching with the odd electrical burst.

“Hello, Max,” he heard a cheery voice call from the doorway. Glancing up from his damaged teacher, he saw Megan in disarray — her shirt buttons misaligned, her tie simply hanging in a loop over her shoulders, her skirt pulled indecently high, and without one of her socks — at least her face was no longer crooked.

“Hello there, Megan,” Max said, pulling on his trousers. “What brings you around?”

“I think we should see headmast-t-ter,” she said with a coy smile, a finger tangling in her damp golden hair.

“The headmaster?” He only knew him by title and reputation, but presumably the head of the Academy would have answers as to why someone saw fit to throw him in a school full of robots. “Well, why not?” Looking down, he asked, “Miss Belle, are we finished?” She buzzed before emitting an electrical pop. “Very well, Megan,” he remarked, adjusting his tie, “to the headmaster.”

==Part Two==

Max made a sweeping gesture with his arm and bid Megan a polite, “After you.” The haphazardly dressed schoolgirl smiled and set off to the Headmaster’s office unsteadily, the smooth motion of her tawny legs interrupted by a twitch or stutter that would lead her to stumble, pause for a few seconds in recovery, and then resume walking as if nothing had happened, only to repeat the process. While he was in no great hurry, Max found the uneven progress frustrating, and at the next one of her pauses, he slid his arm around her. When she hesitated, Max, encouraged her forward with a swat on the back of her skirt.

The unconscionably fresh gesture from a classmate who barely knew her only solicited a confused, “I… oh. I… ah,” from the robotic schoolgirl before she was walking again, stiffly leaning on Max whenever her legs suffered their occasional glitch.

“What can you tell me about the headmaster?” Max asked.

“I’ve neeevvvvver met him,” she answered blithely, her voice developing a metallic echo for a moment.

“Well…. what made you think we needed to see him?”

“Ummmmm…” she seemed as though she were on the cusp of answering, but as they walked she kept silent, wearing a pleasant but vapid expression, eyes blinking at too-regular intervals.

“Calling Megan? Hello?” He slid his hand under her skirt, not entirely surprised she had neglected to put on panties. “Anyone in there?” He gave her a firm squeeze, but she only blinked once more.

“I do not believe this!” the sudden shriek pulled Max’s attention from Megan’s blank staring, and he looked up to see the willowy form of his Literature teacher, Miss Wright, fast approaching. She was tall but petite, with onyx hair hanging in a perfect vertical line to her narrow shoulders, brought to a minute but precise swaying by her small, scissoring steps. The offense she took was plain across her pretty, angular features, her green eyes flashing behind her sleight, rimless frames. “Disentangle yourselves from each-“ she froze when Max thumbed the button, but he was surprised to see Megan did not.

“I… dunno?” Megan offered, unprompted.

“That’s something new,” he observed, then asked, “Want to have some fun with Miss Wright?”

“I would p-prefer we find the headmaster…” she mewled weakly, giving his arm a tug.

“Soon enough!” He spun her into Ms. Wright’s frozen body — as the two reeled slightly from the impact, Max took hold of Miss Wright’s hand and pressed it against Megan’s bare bottom.

Megan’s face took on a quizzical look as Max hopped away, thumbing the device.

“-other this instant!” Wright barked, then stared in silence at where her hand disappeared under her student’s skirt. “What?!” she gasped, recoiling as if from a hot stove.

Max froze her again, positioning the Miss Wright’s other hand on Megan’s pert rump while Megan still looked confused.

“Just bear with me, Megan,” Max stated, hitting the button again.

“What is… what am… what-” Wright’s jerked her hand free once more, her breathing labored and heavy, and Max repeated the process.

“Miss Wright is acting peculiar,” Megan said as her cheek was gripped once more by Wright’s delicate fingers under Max’s guidance. “S-she should see Nurse Green!”

The mention of the Academy’s voluptuous, raven-haired health administrator stirred several thoughts in Max, and he proclaimed, “I think we ourselves might pay her a visit — Miss Wright, however, will be better served by our custodian.” He activated the device and Miss Wright haltingly withdrew her hand, jittering, eyes blinking unevenly.

Max began unbuttoning Miss Wright’s vest as she watched in open-mouthed disbelief, but despite being animate, did nothing to stop him.

“There once was a teacher named Wright” he slowly began.

“W-w-what iis thiissss?” she demanded.

“Whose only real motive was spite,” he continued, opening the vest, taking less care with her blouse to keep up the rhythm of his improvised poem.

“M-m-max, do you w-wish t-to b-b-be ''expelllllled''?” she gasped, but was drawing in deep breaths, her lithe body swaying wantonly back and forth, her tense fingers shredding the last few buttonholes of her blouse before shedding it completely.

“Max tickled her tits…”

“''Yes?''” she gasped, clawing off her modest silk bra, her delicate pink-tipped bosom exposed. Max hit the button and did as promised in verse, his tongue and hands quickening her nipples as heat spread through her, his fondling without pause until she was glowing with a liquid sheen, a sound coming from her like a bandsaw going through sheet metal. He cleared his throat, took Megan’s hand, and stepped back before pressing the button.

“And she flew into bits…”

“TH-THIS UUUUUNIT IIIISSSSS-!” she cried before her abdomen detonated in a flash, nothing more than wires and charred, twisting metal holding the upper and lower halves of her slender form together as she toppled to the ground in a cloud of white smoke.

“And it wasn’t a pretty sight.” Max paused, wrinkling his nose at his failed metric - Miss Wright would never have approved.

“The Headmaster, yes?” Megan insisted, unfazed by the spectacle. “H-he can make sense out of all of th-thisss!”

“It should be fun to watch him try,” Max said with grin, and together they resumed their trip.

One of the classroom doors behind him flung open, and he heard the rumbling voice of their chemistry teacher shout, “What the devil is going-“ Without looking back, Max hit the button, growing ever-fonder of his device in the ensuing silence.

There was queue leading out of the nurse’s office comprised entirely of the students from Miss Belle’s history lesson. A few idly conversed about things not in any way related to any odd developments in Miss Belle’s room, but many sat at queer angles or just stood facing in a random direction, staring blankly. Man and Megan bypassed the line and opened the door to find Nurse Green already tending to a very flustered Grace.

The nurse’s unmistakable silhouette was framed against the shuttered window, those oft-thought-of curves unsuppressed in her austere yet fitted slate dress and white apron tied in a neat bow about her slender waist. She hastily cast a sheet over the body of her yammering student, who was saying something about “missing time”.

“Max, I think you ought to see the Headmaster at once,” Nurse Green politely insisted, her soft red lips forming each syllable neatly. Her pale blue eyes watched him closely, framed by an alluring wave of dark hair.

“Megan and I were just on our way,” he replied, “but I thought you might take a look at her — she had a bit of an accident in the shower and her faceplate popped off.”

Grace sat up, mouth gaping the sheet falling from her. Her shirt was held up above her midriff by a protruding cable that disappeared behind the table. Nurse Green, however, only continued to watch him coolly.

“Obviously she was able to reattach it,” Max continued, “but she’s been acting strange ever since. I thought you might take a look, see if you can-“

“He ''knows''?” Grace exclaimed, head shaking. “Will there even be a graduation?!”

“Quiet, Grace,” Nurse Green stated calmly, her eyes never leaving Max.

“What is this going to do to the map? How did this even happen? Isn’t the maintenance of the student body ''your'' responsibility, Nurse Green? These malfunctions-“

For a brief moment, the nurse diverted her attention to a cart where she withdrew a syringe of dark liquid that twinkled with sharp points of light. Roughly pulling up Grace’s skirt, Nurse Green injected the contents into the student’s pale, bared hip and disposed of the empty syringe with a light toss before turning back to Max, the incident over in seconds.

“Quiet, Grace”, Nurse Green repeated, and this time her patient complied with a mute nod, sinking back to the table.

“And… I’ve got a few questions of my own,” Max added, unnerved by her scrutiny and that sudden display of speed, trying to casually slip his hand into his pocket where the device rested.

“The Headmast-t-errr,” Megan weakly interjected, ignored by them both.

“I imagine you must,” she said, her eyes plainly following Max’s movements. He stopped.

“Alright… am I the only human here?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Alright… fair enough… I was expecting a bit more evasion from you… OK. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why am I a human in a boarding school full of robots?”

“Max, trust my experience on the matter when I tell you that you are better off not knowing.”

“Now ''there’s'' the evasion I was expecting!”

“This must have been very hard on you,” she said, her face in a sympathetic pout.

Max shrugged, “Actually… no.”

“What if I told you I could make this just a bad dream,” she promised, leaning toward him, her left arm in her lap as her bicep displaced the soft silhouette of her chest. He almost didn’t notice that her right hand strayed by the cart to collect a syringe of clear liquid. “Or perhaps a very good one… but you can wake from it tomorrow and find everything back to how it was-”

He jabbed the button with an exultant, “Fuck th-“ his words cut off when at the same instant the Nurse lunged. He flinched, eyes clenching shut — but despite the seemingly inevitable sting of the needle, it never came. He opened his eyes and saw her frozen, the syringe millimeters from his neck. He looked at Megan, who only inclined her heard toward the door with a plaintive expression.

“We’ll have no more of that,” Max declared, pulling the syringe from Nurse Green’s fingers. He went to her cart and found another syringe of the dark, glittering liquid. He hiked her dress up over her magnificently presented posterior, cradled lovingly in red panties whose seams pinched invitingly into that plush expanse. “This should settle you down,” he said, driving the needle into her artificial ass and pumping her full of… whatever this stuff was.

“Now then,” he said, putting the table on which Grace lay frozen between them before hitting the button, “Would you describe your current mood as ‘stabby’, Nurse Green?”

She slowly rose from her half-lunge, pivoting to face Max with a blank expression on her face. “I would describe myself as compliant.”

“Wonderful! OK, let’s try again — why am I here?”

Nurse Green simply stared at him blankly.

“Nurse Green? Hello?”

“Hello.” She responded without emotion.

“Nurse Green, ''tell me why I am here.''”

But she only stared.

Max tensely ran his hands through his hair and gnashed his teeth, growling, “Why do you have to be so difficult?!”

The three fembots all stared at him, though Megan brightly offered, “If you have questions, the Headmassszzzter is the one most equipped to answerrrrr them!”

“Fine, you know what? Perhaps Nurse Green was right. Perhaps I ''don’t'' need to know why I’m here.” He started removing his uniform. “Besides, who needs answers when you can just have a robot orgy, eh?”

Noting a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he added, “Could you all maybe liven up a bit?” Megan smiled absently, the others remained unchanged.

“Megan, would you like to start things off by going down on Grace?”

“Max, we really ought to-“

“Grace, would you start things off by going down on Megan?”

“Of course.” The mousy student slid from the table, trailing her cord while Megan shifted in a fitful dance. Their diminutive classmate dropped to her stockinged knees and reached up under Megan’s skirt, pulling the uncertain fembot’s hips to meet her upturned face.

“We… we could always come ba-''<hahhhh>!''” Megan cried, her body slumping against Grace in a peal of pleasure. He noted Grace was also affected, her knees starting to sway from their rigid right angles, her parallel feet with the tips of her black shoes evenly on the floor now trembling, splaying apart as muffled moans could be heard from beneath Megan’s rustling skirt.

“Lovely! And Nurse Green, if you be so kind as to favor me with a good fucking?”

After a few seconds, the nurse moved into action, efficiently removing her apron with one hand while the other methodically ran through the buttons of her dress, discarding both articles on either side of her when she arrived before him, her red undergarments cinching around her luscious curves.

He laid himself on the examination table and exclaimed, “Nurse, I’ve been having this rather painful problem that won’t seem to go away on its own!”

She stopped, asking, “Are you looking for a diagnosis or sex?”

“Apparently I need to jumpstart the foreplay,” he mumbled, reaching from the table to slap the device’s button.

“Oh… why did you stop?!” Megan protested, shaking the suddenly inert Grace in frustration.

“It’s only for a moment, Meg,” he offered, briefly but vigorously working Nurse Green’s breasts with both hands, doing the same to her backside, noting the expected increase in temperature and perspiration. “Right — another go!” he slapped the button.

Nurse Green’s body shook with desperate, panting breaths as she hugged herself, breasts heaving — but it was Grace’s sudden shrill squeal that demanded his attention, and he saw that Megan had managed to slip under her partner and was now in process of repaying her for her services. She caught Max looking at her, sweat dripping from her upturned nose, and she gasped, “Mind your own work!”

Encouraged by this display of personality, he turned to Nurse Green, who was still breathing deeply, and said, “Nurse Green, I’ve been having this-”

“Let’s take a look at you,” she said with a smile, a soft hand sliding up his thigh to seize upon his rigid cock. “Tell me, does this feel any better?” She worked him with slow, deliberate motions as Grace and Megan continued their boisterous activity unabated.

“Better…”

She slid off her panties, calmly explaining, “I’d like to check your vitals.”

“By all means,” Max grinned, putting his hands behind his head.

She straddled Max with those creamy thighs, guiding him into her velvet interior with a soft sigh. She glided up and down his length in gentle motions, breathily delivering his diagnosis. “Your temperature is thirty-seven, blood pressure one-sixty over eighty — elevated, but expected under the circumstances.”

“Go on,” Max encouraged, his fingers sinking into her haunches as he kneaded her tender, unrelenting hips.

“Your cholesterol is well within the range of-“

“And you were doing so well!” Max sighed. “Meg, we’re taking another time out!”

“OK!”

Grace’s protests were cut off by whatever signal the device was transmitting. Max ran his hands across Nurse Green’s lavish body, hips pumping her until she dripped with sweat and heat, her machinery chittering unevenly. He thumbed the button and she reanimated with teeth-rattling squeal of delight, her once-gentle hips now pistons in furious engine, her frantically bouncing breasts finding brief purchase in her hands, then his, then his face. Everything became a kinetic blur as his lips and tongue, fingers, his cock, all plied every piece of her soft, churning body while her internal machinery squealed on in its fevered state, strengthening her seemingly limitless climax as the pitch of her rising cry broke human limits to rattle glass and set his hairs on end. His body tensed as he tried to stave off his own climax, but he felt release burst from him in a euphoric wave. As he throbbed inside her, she began to seize up, servos straining in resistance to his tightening grip before she finally collapse atop him, internal components her still revving tirelessly as her body faltered with his.

“Is this… what you want?” she whispered hotly into his ear, her voice buzzing with electricity, her sex drawing new life from his recovering manhood as he felt her walls pulse in time to some new humming within her body.

“Every… day… of the week!” he panted

“Then let me put things back how they were,” she cooed, “and-“

He was already reaching for the device when he interrupted her. “I gave you obedience juice so you’d stop talking about-“ he felt a pinch in his hip and he flailed outward, slapping the device with his entire hand and sending it crashing to the ground. Glancing at his hip, he saw she was frozen in the process of injecting him with that clear liquid. He tore the syringe free, growling, “Nurse Green, you are in very serious trouble, missy!” He propped her upright where she sat, unmoving on his half-firm member, a seductive smile on her lips with her eyes suspiciously cast down. “Wulllyooooo…” he realized he wasn’t really sure what words had been trying to speak, and as he attempted to shove her from him, he found his arms could only limply push against her body as the room spun in a warm haze.

He ran his hands over her ample curves contentedly, noting the wealth of humming, grinding, and buzzing sounds this elicited from her. A magnetic droning from elsewhere in the room drew his attention, and he saw the frozen Grace was still on her hands with her legs spread, being enthusiastically serviced by Megan — however, her head looked like someone had turned on a bulb inside of it, the rapt expression across her mousy features hard to read against the peach-colored light shining from within.

“Oommmeg….” he slurred to the tawny blonde who lapped away at her classmate’s pussy while forcing Grace’s rigid hands to resume the rough pawing of her healthy breasts. Meg either did not hear or chose not to heed Max’s warning, and a few bright spires of electricity buzzed angrily from Grace’s open mouth before her entire face suddenly caught fire, flaring hotly for a brief moment before a concussive blast from inside her head extinguished the blaze as quickly as it started.

“Meguuyoooollllll,” Max instructed, but his erstwhile escort remained beneath her broken partner’s skirt. Giving up trying to influence her, he turned his attention back to the still-looming Nurse Green. Mustering a bit more control, he took his right hand, whose palm had been brushing up and down along the plush curve of her rump, and plugged her ass with his finger. Her head shined with peach-colored light; when he focused his will and gave a slight pump of his hips, she jostled, glowing brighter.

“''I'' have not failed this school,” a voice with a distinct metallic echo buzzed from inside of Nurse Green, who remained motionless. “''You'' have.”

Without a working tongue, he just gave her another thrust, her face brighter still.

“Your lack of patience and self-discipline,” she continued, quicker now, “means that whatever meager ''<unnnngh>'' pleasures you are able to wring from the little time you have left here will be ''nothing'' comp-''<ahhh>''-ared to what ''<ohhh>'' you could have had if… ''<ahhhhhh!>'' If you would only- ''<OHHHHHohhhhhhh>''” A burst of hissing, sizzling blue flame consumed her features, her last orgasmic cry melting into a deep register of digitized noise before getting cut off with a sudden bang. Staring down at him, Nurse Green’s face was an unrecognizable fusion of burnt machinery and charred circuitry streaming columns of smoke. Another blast from her midsection did him the courtesy of knocking her off of him. As she crashed into a smoldering jumble beside the table, Max flopped his legs over the side of the table, strenuously pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Megu,” he slurred to his escort, to no avail. Refocusing, he managed a distinct, “Megan!”

She popped her head out from under Grace’s skirt, her face and Grace’s thighs spattered in numerous fluids, oils, and some bright blue substance. “Yes, Max?”

“Hllp… trusrsss…” he groaned, gesturing limply at his legs.

“Did you want to g-g-go to the Headmaster now?”

He nodded with the assistance of his wavering torso. “Yss.”

Pushing the half-burnt ruin of Grace off of her, she quickly stood up. “You don’t look very well,” she frowned. “Perhaps N-nurse Green…” she looked at the contorted tangle of the Nurse’s faceless shell and then said, “Or…” and was left staring blankly at the ground.

“Trou… sers…” he tried again.

She sprang forward, but instead of retrieving him his clothes, she grabbed another syringe from the cabinet. “Nnononnnnonnn!” he protested, falling off the table in his attempt to escape, but Megan easily stuck him. He felt a sudden surge of energy as strength returned to his limbs. He sprang up and hugged his hapless companion tightly, kissing her firmly on her fluid-stained lips and parting with an excited, “Megan, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

She smiled brightly as one of her eyes ticked to the side.

Max pulled on his clothes, recovered the device, grabbed one of those ‘compliance’ syringes filled with glittering fluid, and lead Megan out into the hall where the students from Miss Belle’s history class were frozen in place, several exchanging odd glances or looking with suspicion toward the door.

As Megan braced herself against him and urged them both toward the Headmaster’s office, Max began to consider what other interesting detours they mind seek out.

==Part three==

"Maybe we should find Chloe from physics class," Max wondered aloud while walking down the empty Academy hall beside the damaged and stained (but still upright) Megan. "I always thought she might have a crush on me… or, I suppose, was programmed to have a crush on me…" His fembot companion made no comment.

"You know, despite her screeching, I've always had a thing for Miss Buckley," Max continued, thinking of the maths teacher. Whenever her lessons involved calculations along curved surfaces he would lapse into vivid daydreams, inevitably brought to an end by her shrieking at him to pay attention. "I imagine she's a wailing banshee in the sack…" Megan's gaze remained fixed forward, though her left eye would sometimes flutter to one side, amidst tiny mechanical sounds.

"Oh!" Max suddenly exclaimed, "I just realized that the swim team has their practice ''right now''!"

"Max, our priority isszzzzz the Headmaster," Megan gently reminded him.

"Perhaps the girl's swim team (in all of their perfectly toned, swimsuit-clad glory) will still be an option for me after I speak to the Headmaster," he said in a serious tone, "but I cannot leave such a thing to chance."

"Sorry, Max," called an unapologetic voice from behind him, "but you've kept the Headmaster waiting long enough."

Max turned and sighed. "Oh. You two."

The Academy's two prefects, Lucy and Jacob, were fast approaching. As with so much else since his revelation, their inhuman physical and academic perfection was suddenly well accounted for. Since they were just machines, it would have been easy to give them the bodies of an Adonis and an Aphrodite, easy to pre-load electronic minds with the course material he had to study for, and easy to power their seeming limitless drive and energy with batteries. Perhaps they were meant to serve as exemplars, given the way the students and faculty fawned over them, but he saw their accomplishments in a far more skeptical light.

"Mmmm… no, I think I'd prefer the swim team," Max announced, continuing to steer Megan toward the Academy's pool. A hand with a startlingly firm grip fell upon his shoulder.

"You're not listening, Max," Jacob muttered with a trace of annoyance through his straight and gleaming machine-tooled teeth. "The Headmaster-"

"Jacob," Max interrupted, "You seem… tense. Does he seem tense to you, Megan?"

His deteriorating fembot companion emitted a noncommittal, warbling buzz.

"Enough stalling," Jacob growled, his square jaw clenched, "If you won't cooperate willingly-"

"Megan," Max winced as Jacob's hands tightened painfully on his shoulder, "I think Jacob needs his cock sucked." The pressure from Jacob's hand stopped as the student robot glanced at the approaching and apparently compliant Megan.

"You what?" Jacob managed as Megan brushed Max aside and knelt down, her hands deftly working at the male prefect's trousers. Jacob released Max and pushed back Megan's grinning head as Lucy objected with a threatening, "Megan, get away from my-"

Max activated his device and the prefects froze. Megan, still immune to its effects, ducked under Jacob's outstretched hand, jerked his pants down, and took his member into her mouth. With a faint electrical hum, he was immediately hard, and Megan delivered soft moans between faint audio distortions as she slid her mouth along his shaft. The accelerated and ultimately damage-inducing arousal Max had seen in the frozen female robots seemed to affect the male model to an even greater degree – with every bob of Megan's head, the timbre of Jacob's internal machinery rose from inaudible toward distressed, telling of the failure of one or more systems that had been pushed past their operational thresholds.

"Might want to get clear, Megan," Max informed the still enthusiastically sucking robotic co-ed, but she paid him no heed, he lips and tongue further driving the male robot's systems into chaos. Max shrugged and hit the button.

"-boyfriend!" finished Lucy, her exclamation barely heard over the electrical and mechanical discord echoing throughout the hall from Jacob's shivering body.

"M-m-m-meeeg-g-gan!" Jacob managed, smoke rushing from his mouth as his eyes clenched shut, light shining red through his eyelids. "I-I-I-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-" his statement ended when his electricity-enshrouded head exploded in a gout of white fire followed by a violent spray of fluid and bluish vapor.

Lucy stared at her headless companion, her head twitching oddly as her face cycled through a range of incongruous expressions before settling her gaze on Max with a placid look. Max simply winked, momentarily ruining her composure as her head trembled in reaction.

"Fancy a trip to the pool, Lucy?" he asked. "Wait – aren't you on the team? Don't tell me you're ''truant''!"

"The Headmaster is waiting to explain everything, Max," Lucy said, perfectly calm. "He sent us to fetch you. You are not in any trouble, nor he is angry with you, but… his patience does have its limits."

"Fine," Max said with a sigh, then muttered under his breath, "…race you."

As her face registered confusion once more, he sprang into a run and rushed past her. Predictably, her insufferably competitive nature – ''programming'', Max mentally corrected – compelled her to sprint after him, her toned and bared legs pumping beneath her tweed skirt as she quickly gained on Max. When she passed him with a wry smirk on her lips, Max smiled back and thumbed the device.

Miss Belle had been in mid-stride during the device's activation and had managed to take another step to stabilize herself before freezing, but Lucy's imbalance was not so easily corrected. She fell, looking as though she would land on her face when her leg snapped forward and slammed her black brogue into the floor, pushing like a piston and causing her to spiral to one side into a wall-mounted drinking fountain. There was a flash and a pop from the collusion, then her body crumpled and fell on to the wooden floor.

Max brought her to her feet and noticed a tear in her blouse, beneath which he could see a small rent with exposed wiring in her otherwise smooth abdomen. Despite the damage, her legs worked to keep her upright as he lead her otherwise rigid form in the direction they had come from, passing Megan who was still busily fellating the headless body of Jacob.

"You really don't need to keep doing that," Max advised in passing.

"Mmmhffffuuu<bzzzzzz>!" Megan replied, showing no sign of abandoning her oral fixation.

As they neared the pool, Max carefully urged the frozen Lucy into a jog, then a run. When the doors leading to his intended destination loomed before them, he activated the device and ran ahead, taunting, "And here I thought you were on the track team!"

She blinked in confusion, but then poured on speed, blasting past him and through the door before coming to a stunned halt at the edge of the Academy's swimming pool.

Staring at her and then Max was the entire women's swim team, clustered at the shallow end. Every one of them wore an identical dark-blue spandex one-piece, their hair tucked beneath white swim-caps, conforming their appearances in a way that reinforced the idea they had all been stamped out in a factory somewhere.

That wasn't to say he couldn't tell them apart, though – he picked out Holly from her more enhanced curves, the waifish Millie with her perpetual look of boredom, Amelia and her freckles, Poppy's impressive height… Max grinned at the class, muttering, "This was definitely the right choice."

"Lucy!" a voice snapped, and his attention turned to the PE instructor, Miss Ashley. She was a tanned, slender woman, shorter than most of her students, whose low-zipped athletic jacket and white tank-top allowed a splendid view of her scrumptious bust. Knowing what she was, he now wondered if some sort of error during her fabrication had led to her chest's… overdevelopment? He remembered that when she had given that lecture on pool safety and struggled to get the lifering over her chest, he looked around to his classmates, expecting to share a laugh – but not one of them so much as batted an eye. Maybe none of the other robots saw her that way because they weren't programmed to – maybe he was the only one who registered those stupendous tits.

Miss Ashley shifted in her green trainers irritably, the supple calves above them wrapped tight in tall athletic socks. Then came her bare knees and toned thighs, the exposed skin ending in her tiny gym shorts. "You're late!"

Lucy's processors were apparently still struggling to put all of this together as she stammered, "Th-the Head-d-d-master…"

"And you, Max!" Miss Ashley continued, her bright blue eyes narrowing at him. "Truant and flouting the laws of the Academy!"

Max smiled and said, "Miss Ashley, if you'll permit me: I have an alternate lesson plan that I'd like to present to the class. And you are invited to participate as well, of course."

Miss Ashley looked shocked. "Max, the amount of trouble you are already in ''pales'' in comparison to what will happen if you do not turn around ''this very instant'' and return-"

During this exchange, Lucy was busily undressing herself. Max's attention had been divided between her and Miss Ashley, but he gave the malfunctioning premier student commanded his full notice when she pulled her top off and the shirt snagged on her damaged abdomen. Encountering resistance, Lucy pulled harder on her blouse, finally managing to rip it off, but not without widening the hole in her side, revealing the bundles of machinery and electronics within. Down to her bra and panties, the vacant-eyed fembot teetered briefly on her feet before executing a half-dive, half-fall into the pool, while her coach interrupted her scolding of Max to exclaim, "Lucy, what are you doing?!"

There was a sharp pop when she hit the water and the girls around her instantly began to shudder, arms stiff, eyes wide as smoke wafted between clenched teeth. A chain reaction spread throughout the team as every student stiffened and spasmed when she was caught in electrical bursts from one of her failing neighbors.

"Dammit, Lucy!" Max exclaimed as he watched his simple, humble dreams of a team-wide orgy going up in smoke. Amidst the symphony of twitching servos and frying electrical components, the towering Poppy was the first to go, her impressive height reduced significantly when her strangely smirking head blasted off like a champagne cork, landing with a splash on the far side of the pool.

The diminutive gossip Ruby slumped underwater and was then obscured by a sudden eruption of bubbles, her detached head resurfacing while slowly drawling, "Yoouuu won't believvvve what happened at swimmmm classssszzzzz…"

Millie, that morose girl with the low bangs, finally wore an expression of something other than bored disinterest as she grappled the curvaceous Holly who had been attempting to hoist herself out of the pool. Holly fell forward on to her bust with a wet smack, bent over the edge of the pool while her legs remained in the water. After a muffled blast from under her swim cap, Millie's head catapulted into the her teammates posterior and then detonated, and Holly gave a startled gasp before following suit, spraying her swim instructor and Max with sparks and fragments of rubber and plastic as her body rocked on its compressed cleavage.

The exuberant Amelia managed to vault completely out of the pool and strode toward her stunned coach. Electricity shot across her dripping-wet form, her body affected by soft rippling waves that subtly altered her physiology, most notably in the cresting of her breasts beneath the skin-tight spandex and the slight filling in of her backside as the suit's lining pinched deeper into her softening edges.

"Miss Ashely!" Amelia said excitedly as her nipples budded beneath a suit swelling with cleavage. "C-c-cannn I b-b-be excused? ''<bzzzzzzt!>'' I think-think-think IIIIII-"

"You're excused!" her coach hurriedly interjected. With a vacuous smile, Amelia spun on her heel and began an unsteady march to the door, while the last of her classmates broke down in the pool. Max wondered if she alone might actually make it out as she planted her legs firmly before the door, swung her arm out in an exaggerated gesture, and swung it back to grip the door handle. At that moment, two distinct tendrils of lightning crept up from her ankles until they joined in a flickering tongue of electricity between her thighs, and fused into a bright blue star before disappearing with a pulse when they met her groin. Her round buttocks plumped and then clenched, seeming to devour the back of her swimsuit and transforming it into a taught thong as she gasped, "Oooh!" Her body suddenly flared with color, glowing incandescent for a moment before she burst to apart in a rapid succession of sharp electrical explosions, falling into a buzzing, smoking tangle of limbs like a discarded mannequin.

The robotic girl's swim team was no more, the ruined components of most of its members at the bottom of an electrified pool. Max sighed and looked up at Miss Ashely, who seemed to be slowly regaining her composure.

"Max-" she began, her face softening into an assured, confiding smile.

"Let me guess – I need to see the Headmaster?"

"Yes, Max. He can explain-"

"You see, that's ''not'' really what I'm after. I find that as time goes on, I don't really ''care'' about an explanation."

Ashely blinked, her smile faltering briefly. "Well, whatever it is that you ''do'' desire, the Headmaster-"

He cut her off again. "The Headmaster hasn't been pretty fucking off-target with my desires thus far."

Her smile darkened, her voice hardening as she said, "So… you wish to defy the will of someone who has complete control over this entire facility, yourself included. How do you expect this to end for you should you upset him?"

"But why go to see some stodgy administrator when I'm having so much ''fun''?" he asked, readying the device. "Here, this should help you to empathize with my present situation." He punched the button and Miss Ashley froze with a skeptical look on her face. Max pulled off her thin athletic jacket, her plump cleavage practically bursting through her fitted white tank-top. Max gave her awe-inspiring breasts a hands-on appraisal and found them unusually taught and springy, adding credence to his ‘glitched-tits' theory. Sweat was now glistening across their rounded surface, and he used the device to turn her back on. The robotic instructor let out a sharp gasp, her fingers jerking to her chest and then shying away as she steadied her gaze on Max. "You… you need to see…"

"A bit more fine-tuning," Max muttered, freezing her again. He brushed her hips, sliding his hands over the smooth fabric of her minimal exercise shorts, tracing the curve of her well-formed bottom, slipping his hand beneath to feel her silky skin growing warmer at his touch. He delivered a light squeeze and experienced a swell of warmth. Were her components trying to mimic a human response, or simply venting excess heat as he overloaded them with a situation she was not programmed to handle?

This time when she was unfrozen, she gave a low moan and staggered into Max, her hand raking across his chest. "M-m-maxxx…" she whispered, "y-you need to s-seeee…" She hesitated, then tore off her tank top. Before her buoyant tits could settle from their violent liberation, she was on him, her mouth crushed against his as she attacked his trousers. The moment he had worked her skimpy shorts down to her knees, she gave a limber flex of a toned leg and was free of them, still wearing her dainty green trainers and socks. With athletic poise she speared herself upon his raging erection (whose solidity shocked even him, given its recent activities). She gave a digitally fluctuating moan, and he could feel an electrical prickling as her tight sex forced its way along his shaft.

As the two tumbled on to a rubber exercise mat, Max couldn't help but provoke a reaction by remarking, "You, know you were right – I really ought to see the Headmaster now."

Her teeth clenched, lights behind her blue eyes sparking. Her rhythmic thrusting ground to a shuddering halt with her heated pelvis resting against his, and she managed to stammer, "Y-y-yesss, g-g-go to the He-he-headmasterrrr-"

He gripped her tits and said, "Then again, I ''am'' enjoying myself…"

With a strangely reverberating groan, she pushed his hands against her overripe breasts and it slipped between her twin melons drenched in simulated sweat. "Th-then fuck meeee!" she whimpered, the engine of her hips sputtering to life as he fondled her apparently hypersensitive bust, moans of rapturous pleasure escaping from her with their every caress.

"But I ''have'' kept him waiting quite a while…"

Her once smoothly pumping ass bucked in violent shudders before she stopped halfway along his length. Smoke rose from her ears and electricity flitted over her spasming features, her brown pony-tail inexplicably pointing up and kinking like a query mark as if to highlight her confusion, her flashing eyes straying in random directions. "No-yes-yes-no, y-you mussszzzzt-"

"Then again, he could probably stand to wait a bit more…"

As her machinery fought contradicting instructions, her quivering pelvis convulsed along his cock in completely arrhythmic thrusts. Her face flushed unnaturally pink as she took on a look of complete confusion, eyes growing wide as she panted, "System errorrrr corrruptionnnnn- "

"But knowing that he wouldn't like it if-"

With a noise that was equal parts exasperated moan and sharp mechanical squeal, the back of Miss Ahsley's head exploded, her flushed face looking at him with a delirious, absent smile while her hips gave a final thrust, then she eased forward in a gentle collapse across him. Her steadily firming bust was near frictionless with synthetic sweat as she slid off of his chest and rolled to one side. Glancing at her he was met by the back of her head, an uneven protrusion of metal and sparking wire.

"Well…" Max muttered, staring at the off-white expanse of the pool's ceiling while Miss Ashley's robotic body twitched faintly with a whir, "…now what?"

When the question went unanswered by his own thoughts or any other party, he got dressed and strolled back down the hall where he found Megan still on her knees. Jacob's headless body convulsed with a small electrical surge at every movement of Megan's mouth.

"I admire your dedication," Max remarked.

Megan gave a muffled moan, but remained at her present task. Max looked around, wondering if and when there would be another ‘summons' after the two prefects had failed to retrieve him…. and what form that summons might take.

"You know, I think I ''will'' go and see the Headmaster," Max announced.

Megan popped off of Jacob's cock and gave an upbeat, "OK!" Released from her care, Jacob's body popped and fizzed for a moment before crumpling into a smoldering heap. With a trembling rattle in her knees, the fembot rose to her feet and began a faltering shuffle toward the Headmaster's office, glancing over her shoulder to beckon Max with a crooked smile before her head snapped forward once more. He matched the pace of the teetering robot, who took his hand to steady her lopsided gait.

"How w-was the swimmmm team?" she asked, and Max thought he heard the hint of a suggestion in her voice.

"Oh… not quite what I'd hoped for," he sighed. "And at this rate, the Academy is going to run out of students by the week's end."

With a sudden tick of her neck followed by a much gentler motion, she inclined her head on his shoulder, "In the end, ''we're'' ex-x-pendabllle," she said lazily. "''You're'' the one he wants to p-p-preserve."

"Well," Max said, eying the door to the headmaster's office ahead of them. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

==Part four==
The moment Max stepped into the office, he heard a voice far more firm than polite state, “Please, have a seat.” It was Miss Brookes, the Headmaster's well-coiffed personal assistant, behind an impressively large and conspicuously empty desk. Beyond the *antique* leather sofa she had indicated, the whole room was furnished matching weathered but well cared for dark wood furniture. Given the recent exposure of the Academy’s facade, Max had to wonder if this all wasn't as fake as the blonde secretary fixing him with her impassive blue eyes.

Because he had had little interaction with the headmaster, he had had little interaction with her –but he had always admired the Headmaster's apparent tastes - sleek and tanned and wearing pristine whites, he was always aware of her presence from the brisk click of her heels as she moved through the halls on her errands. Despite the capricious authority she represented, any anxiety upon seeing her was offset by her flawless beauty, her golden hair perfectly parted, her trim curves a captivating silhouette beneath her spotless white skirt and blouse. Of all the robotic faculty, she seemed the apex of a finely tuned machine, every movement and statement made with no question of intent.

In stark contrast to the smoothly operating secretary, the buzzing and sputtering Megan followed Max, falling against him as one of her jittering legs gave out. She emitted a digitized "Oops!" her eyes eventually swiveling to meet his from behind tangles of honey-blonde curls. “I think I might be sick-dizzy-sleepy-horrrrrny!" she exclaimed in rapid succession, leaning heavily on his arm.

"Megan, you are to report to the nurse immediately," Miss Brookes stated.

"Already did!" Megan chirped as Max eased her on to the couch where she slumped awkwardly in her rumpled uniform. He gave her a reaffirming pat before walking straight to the Headmaster's door. Miss Brookes quickly stood and blocked his access, reiterating, "The Headmaster will see you when he is ready- until then, you must take a seat."

Max looked at the stern secretary's unyielding expression and smiled. "I think both the headmaster and I have kept each other waiting long enough." He thumbed the control in his pocket to immobilize her, and she gave a slight shudder - but when he tried to push her aside, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully.

"You will wait," she stated as she lead him by his pained wrist to the couch. Though she was obviously not frozen by Max’s device, her movements were stiffer than before, lacking her former graceful efficiency, and accompanied by the audible whining of servos. He tried the remote again, but to no effect - she forced him down on to the couch, glowered at him as if daring him to try something, and gave a rigid pivot to return to her desk.

"Plan B, I suppose," he muttered, producing the syringe full of 'compliance' from his jacket pocket and thumbing the cap free. As she stepped away, Max jabbed the needle through her skirt and into the tantalizing curve of her posterior. Once more she stiffened, her machinery emitting a growing buzzing sound.

"Show me to the headmaster if you please," Max said, nearly sinking the needle in the bin. Megan let out a sympathetic coo of disappointment, then a profusion of sparks.

"Error," Miss Brookes stated plainly, turning to him with a blank expression. "Priority conflict, corruption in decision matrix."

"Well, maybe don't worry your pretty little head," Max said, stepping toward the door. "I'll see myself in."

With a chorus of mechanical whirring, Miss Brookes put herself between him and the door, placed her fingers upon the handle, and froze. "Error," she said, her head twitching, thin wisps of smoke beginning to rise from beneath her blonde hair.

Max put his hand over hers, receiving a jolt of electricity, and forced her to turn the handle - but just as the door began to open, the malfunctioning secretary jerked it shut and slammed herself into Max, her body feverishly hot.

"Perhaps I c-can get you somethinnnng while you wait-t-t?" she buzzed, her tanned cleavage heaving despite a distinct lack of breath.

"The door, Miss Brookes," Max commanded, though he could feel his resolve weakening as she hitched up her skirt, a white thong tucked between her bronzed cheeks, marred by a small pink dot where the needle had struck.

"Error!" she groaned, collapsing into him, her body now slick with artificial perspiration, her white clothes clinging to her wet curves. "Unable to follow priority command, p-please issue new directivvvvvve!" She was panting now, her hands tugging at her thong as she pleaded, "Max, would you n-not preferrr to-"

Suddenly, the soaked and smoking fembot released her grip upon Max as Megan buried her face into the secretary's ass, tearing her thong off and plunging her tongue into the stunned robot's pussy. She immediately began to convulse, electricity creeping around her formerly perfect hair, stammering, "Mmmmmmegan, you are interfeeeering with violation in decision you must please to nnnurse for immediate dis-dis-mantling!"

"Good, isn't she?" Max remarked, stepping back toward the headmaster's door.

"Stop!" Miss Brookes barked, "You must waiiiii-" her command ended in a wail as Megan plunged deeper, rising on her knees to lift Miss Brookes into the air. The secretary writhed, suspended upon the schoolgirl's face, her tanned legs kicking helplessly as her failing machinery squealed in protest.

Max stepped into the Headmaster's office. There, behind a polished oak desk and surrounded by shelves neatly lined with leather-bound books was a tan, blond gentleman in a crisp white suit. His handsome, square-jawed face was unperturbed by the malfunction-laden cries of distress and pleasure from his secretary in the other room, and similarly betrayed no emotion as Max approached. He simply closed the ledger before him and set aside his pen before folding his hands on his desk.

"Headmaster," Max said evenly.

“Max,” the Headmaster responded with a hint of disdain. “You’ve shown yourself to be quite obstinate today.”

Max gave a shrug. “You wanted to see me-” A muffled explosion from the adjacent room caused Max to flinch, and he finished, “Well, here I am.”

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. “I suspect you think you’re entitled to an explanation.”

“If you like.”

The Headmaster blinked, which Max chose to read as him being completely gobsmacked. “So you think you have all the answers?”

“I’m the only human in a school full of robots, and someone who either likes me or doesn’t like you taught me how to make this-“ he flashed the device “-to upend all your hard work.”

For a brief moment, the Headmaster pursed his lips. “And you find this sufficient? How incurious of you.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d believe a single word of explanation from you, so let’s get to what matters – either I’ve compromised whatever it is you have going on here or you still have use for me and you’re willing to deal. If it’s the former, then I’ll be on my way-“

“To where, exactly?”

“Whatever’s over those walls.”

The Headmaster smirked.

“Or I suppose you’ll imprison me or kill me or whatever. But if you want to make a deal, I’d like to hear your offer.”

There was a long pause as the Headmaster scrutinized Max, his slender, perfectly manicured fingers drumming exactly once across his desk. “I would propose you return to your studies and graduate.”

Max snorted. “I’m going to need a new history teacher.”

“You need not fret - Miss Belle will be ready for tomorrow’s lesson, with no recollection of today’s mischief.”

Something about the utter lack of concern, the assuredness in the Headmaster’s voice really ate at Max – but he was damned if he was going to show it. “Fine. Excellent. First thing in the morning, then.”

“Max, I don’t think you’re committing to this in good faith.”

It took every ounce of Max’s self-control not to snap – this had to be a deliberate provocation. This man wanted to talk about [/i]good faith[/i] after lying to him for his entire life?

The Headmaster continued in a voice like satin. “It would help to ease my suspicion if you would ask for something in return.”

“Ma-“. Max stopped himself. He was surprised at how reflexively her name came to his lips – Maya, his first real girlfriend, the one who had sacrificed herself for him… Or, as he had come to realize, Maya had been his robot girlfriend, sent to him when he began to stray from his path, and who had ultimately set him back on it more firmly than any threat or reward ever could. But despite all that, he still longed to see her again. And this was all likely the design of this smug prick sitting across from him.

“What was that?” the Headmaster quietly asked.

Fuck you, Headmaster was what he thought, but it came out, “Megan.”

There was a slight tic in the Headmaster’s brow. “What about Megan?”

“I want her to remember today’s mischief.”

Max felt himself once more under the Headmaster’s scrutiny. “Why don’t we just make her your girlfriend. It would be easier to do that than-“

“Look, I’ll be there on time for history class, and for every class right up until I graduate as your diligent pupil with perfect marks for attendance. I’ll do my homework, I’ll press my uniform, and I’ll have lights out at nine pm sharp. Here-“ he tossed the remote device on the Headmaster’s desk. “But Megan remembers.”

The headmaster took the device, turning it over in his hands. “Very well, Max.” He carefully deposited the device in a door that opened and shut with a whisper. “Megan will ‘remember’.”

Uncertain in this victory, Max fidgeted in his chair, while the Headmaster seemed content to sit in silence. Unable to bear it any longer, Max stood.

“I shall see you at graduation,” the Headmaster stated with certainty, opening the ledger in front of him. Max made his way to leave the room, pulling open the door to find the headless wreck of Miss Brookes sparking just beyond. Megan sat just behind her on her haunches, her face and hair plastered with lubricant and robotic fluids, her uniform a total mess, as she stared into the distance with a banal smile.

“You’re also going to need a new secretary,” Max grumbled.

“You’ve had a difficult morning,” the Headmaster coolly replied. “Why not take the rest of the day off.”

Megan’s attention snapped to Max with a whir of machinery, her smile broadening. “H-hello, Mmmax!”

Stooping down, he lifted her to her feet, but her knees seemed to buckle whenever he stopped supporting her.

“Th-the Headmaster c-can help me-me-me!” she said in cheery stammer.

Max ducked down and slid his arm behind her legs, hoisting her in a bridal carry. She was lighter than when he first tried to move her in the shower, and he was able to bring her out of the Headmaster’s office and take a steady pace towards his own dormitory.

The Academy was empty, Max’s footsteps echoing through the deserted halls while Megan’s legs idly twitched and whirred, her bare thighs warm and against his forearms. “Wh-where are we g-going?” Megan asked with a slight giggle.

“My room.”

“M-Max!” she said, her face in shock. “I c-can’t b-b-be in the boy’s d-dormitory!” Even in her deteriorated state, even knowing she was wholly artificial, the coy look she gave him with her honey-colored ringlets spilling over her half-lidded eyes sent his heart racing. “What are you p-p-planninnnng?”

To fuck your silicon brains out? Only that wasn’t it. “Megan,” he said, surprised that her name caught in his throat. “I just… I need someone to know what happened today, someone I can talk to, even if… even if she’s just a robot.”

“I’m n-not a ro-bot-bot-bot, Max!” Megan laughed, sparks trickling from her head.

“Today was… You genuinely helped me today, and you’re in this sorry state because of me, and I don’t even know if it makes sense to… to feel guilt, or gratitude, or even… like…”

Megan kissed him, the feeling electric – literally – with a strange tang from the fluids left by Miss Brookes. It felt both artificial and spontaneous and he realized there was no way they were making it all the way to his room. Breaking from her lips to find somewhere for the them, he settled on the teacher’s lounge and fumbled his way through the door, still holding her in his arms and returning her kisses with matched fervor. Stumbling through an obstacle course of chairs and tables, he finally collapsed with her on to a couch. Already her hands were at his trousers, his in her blouse, and soon both were shed, followed by the undergarments beneath. With his kisses trailing down her neck to her ample breasts humming with an electric buzz, he entered her bare, sweltering sex beneath her tweed skirt.

Her voice skipped in pitch, fluctuating synthetically as he thrust into her again and again, his hands squeezing breasts that felt strangely tacky from the intense heat of her malfunctioning body. Servos in her legs whirred uselessly as her entire chassis was rocked by Max’s unbridled enthusiasm, what little control she had being channeled into meeting his relentless hips with bucking of her own. “Alll forrrr y-youuu, M-max!” she squealed, smoke rising from her trembling lips. “All f-forrr – Ahhhh!” Warmth and wetness surged around Max, a string of electric bursts erupting inside her, patches of her tanned skin searing with light. He brought his lips from her tits to her smoking mouth, ignoring the acrid taste to kiss her deeply as he throbbed in explosive release, his hands squeezing her irrepressibly round ass while the bundled artificial musculature spasmed beneath its smooth synthetic surface. A sudden powerful shock from her made him see stars, leaving him tensed and numb.

Gradually sensation came back to him through the feel of her soft and warm body, her thoroughly drenched sex, her itchy, rumpled skirt, her damp honey curls. Her body twitched and hummed, and he couldn’t tell if the occasional moan and sigh from her was a sign of her cognizance or just the malfunctioning vocalizations of a broken robotic schoolgirl. He could empathize either way, feeling incapable of saying much of anything, his consciousness not worth the trouble of holding on to…

Max awoke alone in his own bed, a glance at his clock telling him it was Monday morning – again? That couldn’t have been a dream - he remembered too much, it was simply too lucid for it not to have been real, and yet – robots? Ridiculous. He realized he didn’t have a lot of time before history class, and used the mindless routine of getting ready as a way to put off the impossible thoughts swirling in his head.

Crossing the yard, he avoided eye contact with his fellow classmates, and none pressed him on his sullen mood – at least until spied Megan waiting on the steps of the main entrance. She was lovely as ever, her hair neatly pulled back, her uniform fitted perfectly, her movement graceful and without any accompanying mechanical sound as she descended the steps to meet him. “You seem to be in a mood,” she said with a wry smile.

Max could only stare at first, unable to formulate the question. “Did we… are you…?”

“Oh dear,” Megan said, pulling him out of the stream of students entering the building, drawing a few curious glances at this uncharacteristic fraternization. “Were you so adamant that I remember everything just because you couldn’t be arsed to?”

He felt giddy, light headed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her. He leaned in, and she gave him a swat across the cheek. “Are you daft?” she hissed. “We’ve got class! And you made a commitment.”

“Yeah, but… we could… I mean, if this is all for my benefit, why do you need to go to gym class?”

“Why not?” she said, giving his reddened cheek a gentle pat. “You knowing I’m there should help you imagine me in my tight little shorts~”

Max swallowed, trying to find the ideal opening argument for them to skip class and fuck in the hedge row when the five-minute bell sounded.

“That’s me,” Megan said, glancing around at the now empty yard before leaning in to give him a small kiss on his cheek. “Get to class. And try not to break Miss Belle again!” She spun on her heel to leave, slipping from his grip as she sprinted toward the gym.

He watched her run with an aching desire to chase her – it was easy to imagine how the ensuing moments would play out, and to extrapolate them into another day of debauchery, regardless of any promises made to the Headmaster. But beyond that… he didn’t know. And if he followed the path set before him, the one he had pledged himself to, he still didn’t know what would happen… or, even more troubling, what he wanted to happen.

Max dutifully climbed the stairs and made sure he was in his seat with a sharpened pencil in hand by the ringing of the final bell. Miss Belle was soon repeated the opening of yesterday’s lecture on the history of the Empire’s conquests, and Max began scribbling plans for a new remote device of his own design.
-----

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[[Stories|← Story Archive]]

[[Category:LongTimeLurker]]
[[Category:Stories]]
[[Category:Built]]

Nihilistic

2022-08-05T14:59:40Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Part one */

=Nihilistic=
==Part one==
Surrounded by an abrupt silence, Max looked about him in disbelief, then back to the device in his hands, a rough amalgam of wires, radio parts, and a component of unknown origin. After fruitless experimentation with the device in what little personal time he had, checking and re-checking that he had followed those mysterious instructions to the letter, an idle press of its solitary button during class had finally revealed its function — it could stop time.

With a faint ‘click’, everything in the classroom, his fellow students, their history teacher, Miss Belle, all of them froze, motionless, not so much as a breath stirring them. Nervously, he pressed the button again; to his great relief, time was immediately restored. Miss Belle continuing to scratch upon the chalkboard the various names and dates that chronicled the collapse of nations that had once been The Empire’s feckless enemies, the harsh sound underscored by the faint rasp of two-dozen pencils as her students dutifully copied everything down.

Miss Belle seemed to sense his distraction and turned her imperious gaze upon him. “Max, do you have something more important to do than — what is that?”

He quickly brought the device beneath his desk, but Miss Belle was already advancing quickly, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her tone becoming increasingly stern, she repeated, “I ''asked'' you, what is-“ he thumbed the button, halting her progress mid-stride - but he noted that instead of immediately freezing, she finished her step, both feet firmly on the ground before she stopped completely.

He looked around the room again and realized the clock still ticked away seconds — outside the window, a breeze stirred through the trees hedging the Academy’s sprawling manicured grounds, grey clouds moving in the distance. It wasn’t freezing time, he realized, just the people around him. He carefully put the device on the floor, took up a pencil and a sharpener, and triggered the button with the toe of his shoe.

“-that thing you’re holding?” Miss Belle resumed, striding up to his desk. He presented his hands, and she seemed deeply troubled what she saw, her dark lashes fluttering in confusion. “I… pencil…?”

Max said nothing, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from seeing his beautiful yet unfailingly harsh instructor so bewildered. “Yes, well — this time is for taking notes, not sharpening pencils.” She pivoted and strode back to the board. “You will remain after class and prepare a stock of pencils for yourself and your classmates by sharpening my entire supply-“

He clicked the button with his toe, then leisurely stood up and walked past his frozen fellow students, humming the chorus of the Empire’s bombastic anthem to himself. Rummaging through her impeccably organized cabinet, he found her ridiculously vast stockpile of pencils and pulled every box. Thinking that he should do more than simply throw them in the class’s bin, he returned to his desk to claim the device and stepped into the hall.

''You’ve got a bloody [b]time machine[/b] — or something of the sort — and you’re wasting it on pencils?'' He was, after all, an adult now, along with every other student at this school, all on the cusp of “graduation” — and this current use of his newfound powers seemed incredibly puerile.

“Why not the girl’s locker room?” he said with a start, and began heading toward the gym, tossing the pencils at his earliest convenience.

Moving through the dimly lit dark wood halls of the Academy, Max could not help but feel on-edge. Its many rules were strictly enforced, every student’s time tightly controlled, going back as far as his earliest memories of childhood here — if he were caught out of class, unable to explain himself, he would lose what precious free time he had, possibly meals as well.

But how would he be caught? He had stopped time, hadn’t he? As he passed by a classroom door, he cautiously glanced through the window to see students intently taking notes, untouched by the device’s effects. What sort of range did it have? Would the stoppage ‘wear off’ in Miss Belle’s classroom? As other questions about its use and limitations came to mind, he had to face the most obvious ones — what was it ''for''? And who had wanted him to have it?

Two nights ago, Max found a folded sheet of paper and a wafer-thin component tucked into an engineering textbook. The paper was covered in impeccably written directions on how to construct some sort of transmitter, how to attach the component to the finished product. There was no hint as to what it might do or who had created the schematics or the tiny component itself, but these were not great concerns to Max. Obviously they had intended for him to have it… and in the absence of instruction, they presumably were leaving its use to his own judgment.

Arriving at the girl’s locker room, he considered that this might be a test from one of his instructors, and that ogling his female co-eds in the shower was not likely to earn him passing marks. But this was not how tests at the Academy were conducted; there was never any room for creativity, only the rote memorization and regurgitation of whatever subject they were studying. Looking at the clock, he believed that class C would be getting ready for P.E. Before he could give any real thought to the moral implications of his actions, Max hit the button on the device and stepped through the door.

The scene was less engaging that he would have thought, the tableau of students frozen in their underwear far more clinical than titillating. Girls he had known throughout his years at the Academy were in various stages of undress — but they all seemed so… inert. All of them staring blankly forward, methodically getting out of their uniforms and into their gym clothes. He supposed it was silly to think he would find a private show full of girls in pin-up poses, but this…

Following the sound of running water, he rounded a corner and immediately forgot to breathe. There stood the surpassingly lovely Megan, frozen in the steaming shower. Shining rivulets ran over her statue-still body, tributaries collecting in streams that flowed over her pert curves — she would not have looked out of place as the marble centerpiece in a fountain of frolicking naiads. She held her golden hair back with both hands, facing the stream, her lips slightly parted, water overflowing from her mouth…

Upon registering that last detail, Max rushed to her in a panic — were her lungs flooded with water!? When he unfroze her, would she drown? Was she drowning already? He grabbed her beneath her raised arms and pulled her free of the shower, finding her heavier than anticipated — his foot slipped on the wet tile, and he dropped her before falling himself on to the hard floor.

There was a sharp pain in his tailbone, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Megan had fallen on her side, still locked in that nymphean pose — she seemed unharmed, except her face was… ''askew''. As if it were a mask on crooked, only partially concealing something beneath, something silver and glinting. Max leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in this ‘gap’ between her face and her head. ''Was that… machinery?''

A sudden bright burst of electricity flared from her temple as her blue eyes snapped open, staring directly at him — Max gave a startled cry, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the locker room, halfway back to his classroom before he managed to stop himself. He realized his device was not stopping time it all — it was an on / off switch for robots. Oh, and by the way, just one more tidbit — everyone he had known his entire life was apparently a machine.

He wondered if he ought to be outraged or upset or if he was simply going insane — for in truth, he felt none of these things at all, but rather, a powerful curiosity. In a lot of ways, the Academy made more sense to him now that before he knew he was surrounded by robots. Of ''course'' his classmates could effortlessly breeze through subjects that seemed designed specifically for his torment: ''they'' were just following programming, ''he'' actually had to learn this stuff. But why? For whose benefit? ''Why go through all this trouble?''

Max tried to think if there was anyone he might suspect was human. There was the nebulous headmaster, the authority he had never actually seen, who seemed to exist more as a vengeful deity than an actual person. Perhaps the transfer student, Maya Green, his former girlfriend and partner in crime, right up until her expulsion.

He had found her so unlike everyone else in this place, spontaneous, willing to take risks… affectionate! But he had to consider that she had been a robot too, one programmed to serve as a cautionary tale instead of another perfect student to emulate. If so, it had worked, hadn’t it? When they were both caught committing the grave offense of trying to escape the school grounds, Maya had pleaded desperately to the Disciplinarian on his behalf, tears streaming down her pretty, freckled face from those dark, almond-shaped eyes. She claimed it had all been her idea, that she had pressured Max into it, refuting Max’s insistence that he was the one behind it all. In the end, she was expelled while he was allowed to remain — and before she left, never to be seen again, Maya drew from him a promise her that he would not squander her sacrifice, that he would stay out of trouble, if only for her sake. A promise he had kept, to this day.

''To hell with it,'' he decided. ''Now it’s time to play''.

Max returned to the frozen diorama of his classroom, carefully scrutinizing Miss Belle and his fellow classmates. Even knowing they were all machines, he just couldn’t see it. He went in for a closer look at Miss Belle, her soft brown eyes staring straight ahead, her red lips parted mid-syllable, her mahogany hair in a bun wound almost as tightly as she was — but no matter how closely he looked or where he touched her cold, satin skin, he could not discern where her face might ‘detach’ in the way Megan’s had.

He idly undid the buttons on her blouse and parted the white fabric — beneath he saw the creamy hemispheres of her bountiful chest, cupped in a floral print bra, frilled in lace — but all of it unmistakably human. A thought struck Max, and he pulled off her blouse completely, then returned to his desk and activated the transmitter. Miss Belle continued right where she had left off, discussing his punishment, “-so that no one else will need to spend time fiddling at their desk instead of taking notes. Now then…” Miss Belle picked up the chalk and resumed her lecture, apparently oblivious of her missing apparel. He glanced at his fellow classmates, noticing brief flashes of confusion on their faces of each as they looked up to see far more of their teacher than they were accustomed — and just as quickly, every one of them seemed to accept the situation and resume their note-taking.

Max froze the room again and approached Miss Belle, unfastening the grey tweed pencil skirt that hugged her hips and offered tantalizing glimpses to the exquisite form of her round backside. Sliding the skirt down, he carefully took her ankle and lifted — she cooperated, balancing on one foot, then the other as he stepped her out of the grey fabric. Her matching floral panties were a snug fit against her pale, perfect rump, and he gave her cheek an appraising squeeze — her soft skin was initially cold to the touch, but warmed under his caress, pink blossoming beneath the smooth, fair surface. Not wanting to get carried away, he hastily disposed of the skirt and returned to his desk, activating the device once more.

Just as before, she continued her lecture in her underwear, her forceful gestures at the chalkboard sending delightful tremors through her voluptuous form. His classmates had additional difficulty when they noticed their instructor’s new state of undress, and not all of them recovered. To his immediate right, Grace (programmed, as near as he could tell, to be a condescending know-all) seemed to be having particular trouble. Her cute head wobbled strangely upon her neck, her typically-smug expression now screwed-up in confusion.

Max leaned close to her and whispered, “Where did her skirt go?”

Her hazel eyes darted between him and their teacher, her head-tremors worsening. “M-M-Miss Belle,” Grace stammered, ineffectually brushing aside the auburn bangs that kept falling across her eyes as her head shook. “I-I-IIIIIII fffffeeeelllll… funnyyyyy…” She took on a digitized tremulo whenever her voice caught on a vowel, her pink her lips not quite synchronized with her words.

The teacher turned and looked at her favorite pupil with distaste. “Well, go to the nurse!” Surveying the rest of the class and evidently seeing something she did not like in her students, she asked, “What is going on with all of you?”

“We’re all just wondering why you’re in your underwear,” Max said calmly. A few barks of artificial laughter sounded from the class, but were sharply cut off by Miss Belle’s glower. He noticed ticks spreading across the room while Grice rose, moving stiffly yet quickly toward the door.

Miss Belle glanced down at herself and gasped in surprise, backing against the wall while doing her best to cover her immodesty with her hands. “I d-d-do not understannnnnd-“ she groaned, looking about helplessly. A moment later her head snapped sharply forward and she straightened, relaxing her arms at her sides, crisply announcing, “Class dismissed.”

The students rose, some with great difficulty, colliding with one another in their awkward shuffle out the door. A few annoyed remarks of, “Watch where you’re going,” or “Excuse you,” could be heard, but they were all delivered in flat, impersonal tones. With the last of them gone, Miss Belle sat at her desk, staring blankly ahead.

In the ludicrously prolonged silence that followed, Max couldn’t help but crack a smile. Finally, he prompted her with, “Miss Belle, am I dismissed?” he said.

“''You'' have quite a bit of sharpening to do,” she proclaimed, suddenly animate as she strode to the supply cabinet, opening the drawer that had held the pencils — she stared blankly at the empty space for several moments, before wordlessly pushing it shut.

“Trouble, Miss Belle?” Max asked, casually approaching her.

“That is not your concern,” she said flatly. “And you are still to be reprimanded for your disruptive behavior. You… you will… you…”

“I have an idea or two,” he said with a smirk.

“And I’ll have no more of this cheek from you!” she insisted her elegant features narrowing in suspicion.

Max hit the button and once more she froze, her cross expression preserved. ”Miss Belle, you’re so tense!” he exclaimed. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Sliding his hand into the cup of her bra, he fondled the softness beneath, feeling a spreading warmth, her nipple hardening visibly even through the padded cup. “Better already!” he remarked, then slipped his hand down the front of her panties, gliding through the tuft of hair, fingers caressing and then moving within her chilled labia — in an instant, he could feel heat coming from her, her face suddenly flush with a rosy glow. He withdrew his hand and unfroze her.

“''<Hahhhhh!>''” she gasped, chest heaving, one of her hands taking hold of the breast he had just released, the other cupping lightly over her groin. She held it there, trembling, before a finger shyly pressed in against the fabric of her panties, soliciting another gasp. Max approached put his arms around her, taking hold of her rump, reacquainting himself with her familiar softness with a tender squeeze.

She stared at him in stunned surprise, her red lips gaping as she struggled to find her voice. Suddenly, her head snapped rigidly into place, her expression resetting to its customary haughtiness as she said, “Come with me.”

She broke from him and walked stiffly to her desk, then turned to face him, stating, “Take off your uniform.”

“If you insist,” Max said with an exaggerated sigh, and was soon naked before her.

“Now, remove my undergarments.”

He slid her panties down her shapely legs, taking the opportunity to retrace those elegant lines with his fingertips as he stood. She ignored this bit of foreplay, spun on her heel, and bent over her desk, brazenly presenting her porcelain white derriere and still-flushed sex. “Make love to me,” she demanded airily. “If you are able to perform to even the most modest of standards, we shall consider your punishment served.”

With another forced sigh, Max entered her slowly, her body tensing at the introduction. He took hold of her cool, white hips, rapidly bringing her to warmth and color as her cushioned backside compressed against him.

“I… would have… expected more from you,” she announced between quiet grunts, casually undoing her bun and shaking her lustrous mahogany hair loose over her pale shoulders, then resting once more on her forearms. “You do realize… you’re attempting to… pleasure ''me'', correct?”

Noting her physical response was far more reserved now than when she was frozen, Max leaned over and hit the device, her body abruptly stiffening. He gave her a few quick thrusts, her body reacting vigorously to every push with a rush of warmth and fluid, her smooth skin soon coated in a sheen of sweat. When he unfroze her, her legs buckled as she wailed in ecstasy, trying to stifle her cries with the back of her hand. Her body succumbed to a series of convulsions, and for the first time since he discovered what she truly was, she betrayed something of her mechanical nature beyond freezing — a high-pitched mechanical squeal from inside her chest.

“Well…” she panted, pausing as another shiver passed through her, the squeal quieting. “I suppose that will have to do. If you’re done, that will be all.”

“I’d rather not leave you wanting, Miss Belle,” Max said, casually massaging her sweat-soaked posterior.

“And as per usual,” she said, her voice with its trademark condescension, “your abilities fall well short of your ambitions.”

With a chuckle, Max said, “I’m going to enjoy this,” and tapped the device, freezing her mid-sigh.

After a series of thrusts brought her back up to a feverish temperature, he withdrew and rolled her on to her back, manually coaxing her legs down from her ‘standing’ position amidst the protest of whining servos. He pulled off her bra, her impressive breasts jostling lose, his hands massaging them as he entered her once more. Her face remained frozen mid eye-roll, but as he glided in and out of her, his hands fondling her chest, he saw tremors beneath the surface of her wet skin, her lips quavering, her eyelashes developing minute ticks. He leaned in to kiss her red lips, feeling them quiver in response as the mechanical squeal from her first orgasm returned, now accompanied by a strange buzzing. Despite her immobility, her face was slowly shifting from indifference to rapt ecstasy, her sex radiating heat, her body glistening.

He pulled out of her and re-oriented himself, sliding a cock awash in her fluids into her mouth, bringing his lips to her simmering sex. He devoured her pussy, his hands gripped tight against her pillowy thighs as her mouth slowly trembled to a close around his manhood. He began feel a faint electrical flicker across his tongue as he serviced her, and the mechanical sounds of her internal machinery went from a mere curiosity to a distressing series of pops and bangs. When he dismounted her, Max saw areas of her shapely body glowing incandescent, a burning smell filling the air as dozens of tiny tremors ran through her form.

“Satisfied, Miss Belle?” Max asked, hitting the device.

Her response was closer to a siren than any human voice, an ear-splitting wail as her back arched, her arms flailing uselessly, the mechanical cacophony inside of her reaching a shrieking crescendo. There was some internal detonation and Miss Belle tumbled from her desk, her smoldering body landing at Max’s feet, charred machinery visible through her damaged frame.

“C-c-class disssmisssszzzzzz''<bzzzzt>''” she moaned, twitching with the odd electrical burst.

“Hello, Max,” he heard a cheery voice call from the doorway. Glancing up from his damaged teacher, he saw Megan in disarray — her shirt buttons misaligned, her tie simply hanging in a loop over her shoulders, her skirt pulled indecently high, and without one of her socks — at least her face was no longer crooked.

“Hello there, Megan,” Max said, pulling on his trousers. “What brings you around?”

“I think we should see headmast-t-ter,” she said with a coy smile, a finger tangling in her damp golden hair.

“The headmaster?” He only knew him by title and reputation, but presumably the head of the Academy would have answers as to why someone saw fit to throw him in a school full of robots. “Well, why not?” Looking down, he asked, “Miss Belle, are we finished?” She buzzed before emitting an electrical pop. “Very well, Megan,” he remarked, adjusting his tie, “to the headmaster.”

==Part two==
Max made a sweeping gesture with his arm and bid Megan a polite, “After you.” The haphazardly dressed schoolgirl smiled and set off to the Headmaster’s office unsteadily, the smooth motion of her tawny legs interrupted by a twitch or stutter that would lead her to stumble, pause for a few seconds in recovery, and then resume walking as if nothing had happened, only to repeat the process. While he was in no great hurry, Max found the uneven progress frustrating, and at the next one of her pauses, he slid his arm around her. When she hesitated, Max, encouraged her forward with a swat on the back of her skirt.

The unconscionably fresh gesture from a classmate who barely knew her only solicited a confused, “I… oh. I… ah,” from the robotic schoolgirl before she was walking again, stiffly leaning on Max whenever her legs suffered their occasional glitch.

“What can you tell me about the headmaster?” Max asked.

“I’ve neeevvvvver met him,” she answered blithely, her voice developing a metallic echo for a moment.

“Well…. what made you think we needed to see him?”

“Ummmmm…” she seemed as though she were on the cusp of answering, but as they walked she kept silent, wearing a pleasant but vapid expression, eyes blinking at too-regular intervals.

“Calling Megan? Hello?” He slid his hand under her skirt, not entirely surprised she had neglected to put on panties. “Anyone in there?” He gave her a firm squeeze, but she only blinked once more.

“I do not believe this!” the sudden shriek pulled Max’s attention from Megan’s blank staring, and he looked up to see the willowy form of his Literature teacher, Miss Wright, fast approaching. She was tall but petite, with onyx hair hanging in a perfect vertical line to her narrow shoulders, brought to a minute but precise swaying by her small, scissoring steps. The offense she took was plain across her pretty, angular features, her green eyes flashing behind her sleight, rimless frames. “Disentangle yourselves from each-“ she froze when Max thumbed the button, but he was surprised to see Megan did not.

“I… dunno?” Megan offered, unprompted.

“That’s something new,” he observed, then asked, “Want to have some fun with Miss Wright?”

“I would p-prefer we find the headmaster…” she mewled weakly, giving his arm a tug.

“Soon enough!” He spun her into Ms. Wright’s frozen body – as the two reeled slightly from the impact, Max took hold of Miss Wright’s hand and pressed it against Megan’s bare bottom.

Megan’s face took on a quizzical look as Max hopped away, thumbing the device.

“-other this instant!” Wright barked, then stared in silence at where her hand disappeared under her student’s skirt. “What?!” she gasped, recoiling as if from a hot stove.

Max froze her again, positioning the Miss Wright’s other hand on Megan’s pert rump while Megan still looked confused.

“Just bear with me, Megan,” Max stated, hitting the button again.

“What is… what am… what-” Wright’s jerked her hand free once more, her breathing labored and heavy, and Max repeated the process.

“Miss Wright is acting peculiar,” Megan said as her cheek was gripped once more by Wright’s delicate fingers under Max’s guidance. “S-she should see Nurse Green!”

The mention of the Academy’s voluptuous, raven-haired health administrator stirred several thoughts in Max, and he proclaimed, “I think we ourselves might pay her a visit – Miss Wright, however, will be better served by our custodian.” He activated the device and Miss Wright haltingly withdrew her hand, jittering, eyes blinking unevenly.

Max began unbuttoning Miss Wright’s vest as she watched in open-mouthed disbelief, but despite being animate, did nothing to stop him.

“There once was a teacher named Wright” he slowly began.

“W-w-what iis thiissss?” she demanded.

“Whose only real motive was spite,” he continued, opening the vest, taking less care with her blouse to keep up the rhythm of his improvised poem.

“M-m-max, do you w-wish t-to b-b-be expelllllled?” she gasped, but was drawing in deep breaths, her lithe body swaying wantonly back and forth, her tense fingers shredding the last few buttonholes of her blouse before shedding it completely.

“Max tickled her tits…”

“Yes?” she gasped, clawing off her modest silk bra, her delicate pink-tipped bosom exposed. Max hit the button and did as promised in verse, his tongue and hands quickening her nipples as heat spread through her, his fondling without pause until she was glowing with a liquid sheen, a sound coming from her like a bandsaw going through sheet metal. He cleared his throat, took Megan’s hand, and stepped back before pressing the button.

“And she flew into bits…”

“TH-THIS UUUUUNIT IIIISSSSS-!” she cried before her abdomen detonated in a flash, nothing more than wires and charred, twisting metal holding the upper and lower halves of her slender form together as she toppled to the ground in a cloud of white smoke.

“And it wasn’t a pretty sight.” Max paused, wrinkling his nose at his failed metric - Miss Wright would never have approved.

“The Headmaster, yes?” Megan insisted, unfazed by the spectacle. “H-he can make sense out of all of th-thisss!”

“It should be fun to watch him try,” Max said with grin, and together they resumed their trip.

One of the classroom doors behind him flung open, and he heard the rumbling voice of their chemistry teacher shout, “What the devil is going-“ Without looking back, Max hit the button, growing ever-fonder of his device in the ensuing silence.

There was queue leading out of the nurse’s office comprised entirely of the students from Miss Belle’s history lesson. A few idly conversed about things not in any way related to any odd developments in Miss Belle’s room, but many sat at queer angles or just stood facing in a random direction, staring blankly. Man and Megan bypassed the line and opened the door to find Nurse Green already tending to a very flustered Grace.

The nurse’s unmistakable silhouette was framed against the shuttered window, those oft-thought-of curves unsuppressed in her austere yet fitted slate dress and white apron tied in a neat bow about her slender waist. She hastily cast a sheet over the body of her yammering student, who was saying something about “missing time”.

“Max, I think you ought to see the Headmaster at once,” Nurse Green politely insisted, her soft red lips forming each syllable neatly. Her pale blue eyes watched him closely, framed by an alluring wave of dark hair.

“Megan and I were just on our way,” he replied, “but I thought you might take a look at her – she had a bit of an accident in the shower and her faceplate popped off.”

Grace sat up, mouth gaping the sheet falling from her. Her shirt was held up above her midriff by a protruding cable that disappeared behind the table. Nurse Green, however, only continued to watch him coolly.

“Obviously she was able to reattach it,” Max continued, “but she’s been acting strange ever since. I thought you might take a look, see if you can-“

“He knows?” Grace exclaimed, head shaking. “Will there even be a graduation?!”

“Quiet, Grace,” Nurse Green stated calmly, her eyes never leaving Max.

“What is this going to do to the map? How did this even happen? Isn’t the maintenance of the student body your responsibility, Nurse Green? These malfunctions-“

For a brief moment, the nurse diverted her attention to a cart where she withdrew a syringe of dark liquid that twinkled with sharp points of light. Roughly pulling up Grace’s skirt, Nurse Green injected the contents into the student’s pale, bared hip and disposed of the empty syringe with a light toss before turning back to Max, the incident over in seconds.

“Quiet, Grace”, Nurse Green repeated, and this time her patient complied with a mute nod, sinking back to the table.

“And… I’ve got a few questions of my own,” Max added, unnerved by her scrutiny and that sudden display of speed, trying to casually slip his hand into his pocket where the device rested.

“The Headmast-t-errr,” Megan weakly interjected, ignored by them both.

“I imagine you must,” she said, her eyes plainly following Max’s movements. He stopped.

“Alright… am I the only human here?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Alright… fair enough… I was expecting a bit more evasion from you… OK. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why am I a human in a boarding school full of robots?”

“Max, trust my experience on the matter when I tell you that you are better off not knowing.”

“Now there’s the evasion I was expecting!”

“This must have been very hard on you,” she said, her face in a sympathetic pout.

Max shrugged, “Actually… no.”

“What if I told you I could make this just a bad dream,” she promised, leaning toward him, her left arm in her lap as her bicep displaced the soft silhouette of her chest. He almost didn’t notice that her right hand strayed by the cart to collect a syringe of clear liquid. “Or perhaps a very good one… but you can wake from it tomorrow and find everything back to how it was-”

He jabbed the button with an exultant, “Fuck th-“ his words cut off when at the same instant the Nurse lunged. He flinched, eyes clenching shut – but despite the seemingly inevitable sting of the needle, it never came. He opened his eyes and saw her frozen, the syringe millimeters from his neck. He looked at Megan, who only inclined her heard toward the door with a plaintive expression.

“We’ll have no more of that,” Max declared, pulling the syringe from Nurse Green’s fingers. He went to her cart and found another syringe of the dark, glittering liquid. He hiked her dress up over her magnificently presented posterior, cradled lovingly in red panties whose seams pinched invitingly into that plush expanse. “This should settle you down,” he said, driving the needle into her artificial ass and pumping her full of… whatever this stuff was.

“Now then,” he said, putting the table on which Grace lay frozen between them before hitting the button, “Would you describe your current mood as ‘stabby’, Nurse Green?”

She slowly rose from her half-lunge, pivoting to face Max with a blank expression on her face. “I would describe myself as compliant.”

“Wonderful! OK, let’s try again – why am I here?”

Nurse Green simply stared at him blankly.

“Nurse Green? Hello?”

“Hello.” She responded without emotion.

“Nurse Green, tell me why I am here.”

But she only stared.

Max tensely ran his hands through his hair and gnashed his teeth, growling, “Why do you have to be so difficult?!”

The three fembots all stared at him, though Megan brightly offered, “If you have questions, the Headmassszzzter is the one most equipped to answerrrrr them!”

“Fine, you know what? Perhaps Nurse Green was right. Perhaps I don’t need to know why I’m here.” He started removing his uniform. “Besides, who needs answers when you can just have a robot orgy, eh?”

Noting a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he added, “Could you all maybe liven up a bit?” Megan smiled absently, the others remained unchanged.

“Megan, would you like to start things off by going down on Grace?”

“Max, we really ought to-“

“Grace, would you start things off by going down on Megan?”

“Of course.” The mousy student slid from the table, trailing her cord while Megan shifted in a fitful dance. Their diminutive classmate dropped to her stockinged knees and reached up under Megan’s skirt, pulling the uncertain fembot’s hips to meet her upturned face.

“We… we could always come ba-<hahhhh>!” Megan cried, her body slumping against Grace in a peal of pleasure. He noted Grace was also affected, her knees starting to sway from their rigid right angles, her parallel feet with the tips of her black shoes evenly on the floor now trembling, splaying apart as muffled moans could be heard from beneath Megan’s rustling skirt.

“Lovely! And Nurse Green, if you be so kind as to favor me with a good fucking?”

After a few seconds, the nurse moved into action, efficiently removing her apron with one hand while the other methodically ran through the buttons of her dress, discarding both articles on either side of her when she arrived before him, her red undergarments cinching around her luscious curves.

He laid himself on the examination table and exclaimed, “Nurse, I’ve been having this rather painful problem that won’t seem to go away on its own!”

She stopped, asking, “Are you looking for a diagnosis or sex?”

“Apparently I need to jumpstart the foreplay,” he mumbled, reaching from the table to slap the device’s button.

“Oh… why did you stop?!” Megan protested, shaking the suddenly inert Grace in frustration.

“It’s only for a moment, Meg,” he offered, briefly but vigorously working Nurse Green’s breasts with both hands, doing the same to her backside, noting the expected increase in temperature and perspiration. “Right – another go!” he slapped the button.

Nurse Green’s body shook with desperate, panting breaths as she hugged herself, breasts heaving – but it was Grace’s sudden shrill squeal that demanded his attention, and he saw that Megan had managed to slip under her partner and was now in process of repaying her for her services. She caught Max looking at her, sweat dripping from her upturned nose, and she gasped, “Mind your own work!”

Encouraged by this display of personality, he turned to Nurse Green, who was still breathing deeply, and said, “Nurse Green, I’ve been having this-”

“Let’s take a look at you,” she said with a smile, a soft hand sliding up his thigh to seize upon his rigid cock. “Tell me, does this feel any better?” She worked him with slow, deliberate motions as Grace and Megan continued their boisterous activity unabated.

“Better…”

She slid off her panties, calmly explaining, “I’d like to check your vitals.”

“By all means,” Max grinned, putting his hands behind his head.

She straddled Max with those creamy thighs, guiding him into her velvet interior with a soft sigh. She glided up and down his length in gentle motions, breathily delivering his diagnosis. “Your temperature is thirty-seven, blood pressure one-sixty over eighty – elevated, but expected under the circumstances.”

“Go on,” Max encouraged, his fingers sinking into her haunches as he kneaded her tender, unrelenting hips.

“Your cholesterol is well within the range of-“

“And you were doing so well!” Max sighed. “Meg, we’re taking another time out!”

“OK!”

Grace’s protests were cut off by whatever signal the device was transmitting. Max ran his hands across Nurse Green’s lavish body, hips pumping her until she dripped with sweat and heat, her machinery chittering unevenly. He thumbed the button and she reanimated with teeth-rattling squeal of delight, her once-gentle hips now pistons in furious engine, her frantically bouncing breasts finding brief purchase in her hands, then his, then his face. Everything became a kinetic blur as his lips and tongue, fingers, his cock, all plied every piece of her soft, churning body while her internal machinery squealed on in its fevered state, strengthening her seemingly limitless climax as the pitch of her rising cry broke human limits to rattle glass and set his hairs on end. His body tensed as he tried to stave off his own climax, but he felt release burst from him in a euphoric wave. As he throbbed inside her, she began to seize up, servos straining in resistance to his tightening grip before she finally collapse atop him, internal components her still revving tirelessly as her body faltered with his.

“Is this… what you want?” she whispered hotly into his ear, her voice buzzing with electricity, her sex drawing new life from his recovering manhood as he felt her walls pulse in time to some new humming within her body.

“Every… day… of the week!” he panted

“Then let me put things back how they were,” she cooed, “and-“

He was already reaching for the device when he interrupted her. “I gave you obedience juice so you’d stop talking about-“ he felt a pinch in his hip and he flailed outward, slapping the device with his entire hand and sending it crashing to the ground. Glancing at his hip, he saw she was frozen in the process of injecting him with that clear liquid. He tore the syringe free, growling, “Nurse Green, you are in very serious trouble, missy!” He propped her upright where she sat, unmoving on his half-firm member, a seductive smile on her lips with her eyes suspiciously cast down. “Wulllyooooo…” he realized he wasn’t really sure what words had been trying to speak, and as he attempted to shove her from him, he found his arms could only limply push against her body as the room spun in a warm haze.

He ran his hands over her ample curves contentedly, noting the wealth of humming, grinding, and buzzing sounds this elicited from her. A magnetic droning from elsewhere in the room drew his attention, and he saw the frozen Grace was still on her hands with her legs spread, being enthusiastically serviced by Megan – however, her head looked like someone had turned on a bulb inside of it, the rapt expression across her mousy features hard to read against the peach-colored light shining from within.

“Oommmeg….” he slurred to the tawny blonde who lapped away at her classmate’s pussy while forcing Grace’s rigid hands to resume the rough pawing of her healthy breasts. Meg either did not hear or chose not to heed Max’s warning, and a few bright spires of electricity buzzed angrily from Grace’s open mouth before her entire face suddenly caught fire, flaring hotly for a brief moment before a concussive blast from inside her head extinguished the blaze as quickly as it started.

“Meguuyoooollllll,” Max instructed, but his erstwhile escort remained beneath her broken partner’s skirt. Giving up trying to influence her, he turned his attention back to the still-looming Nurse Green. Mustering a bit more control, he took his right hand, whose palm had been brushing up and down along the plush curve of her rump, and plugged her ass with his finger. Her head shined with peach-colored light; when he focused his will and gave a slight pump of his hips, she jostled, glowing brighter.

“I have not failed this school,” a voice with a distinct metallic echo buzzed from inside of Nurse Green, who remained motionless. “You have.”

Without a working tongue, he just gave her another thrust, her face brighter still.

“Your lack of patience and self-discipline,” she continued, quicker now, “means that whatever meager <unnnngh> pleasures you are able to wring from the little time you have left here will be nothing comp-<ahhh>-ared to what <ohhh> you could have had if… <ahhhhhh!> If you would only- <OHHHHHohhhhhhh>” A burst of hissing, sizzling blue flame consumed her features, her last orgasmic cry melting into a deep register of digitized noise before getting cut off with a sudden bang. Staring down at him, Nurse Green’s face was an unrecognizable fusion of burnt machinery and charred circuitry streaming columns of smoke. Another blast from her midsection did him the courtesy of knocking her off of him. As she crashed into a smoldering jumble beside the table, Max flopped his legs over the side of the table, strenuously pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Megu,” he slurred to his escort, to no avail. Refocusing, he managed a distinct, “Megan!”

She popped her head out from under Grace’s skirt, her face and Grace’s thighs spattered in numerous fluids, oils, and some bright blue substance. “Yes, Max?”

“Hllp… trusrsss…” he groaned, gesturing limply at his legs.

“Did you want to g-g-go to the Headmaster now?”

He nodded with the assistance of his wavering torso. “Yss.”

Pushing the half-burnt ruin of Grace off of her, she quickly stood up. “You don’t look very well,” she frowned. “Perhaps N-nurse Green…” she looked at the contorted tangle of the Nurse’s faceless shell and then said, “Or…” and was left staring blankly at the ground.

“Trou… sers…” he tried again.

She sprang forward, but instead of retrieving him his clothes, she grabbed another syringe from the cabinet. “Nnononnnnonnn!” he protested, falling off the table in his attempt to escape, but Megan easily stuck him. He felt a sudden surge of energy as strength returned to his limbs. He sprang up and hugged his hapless companion tightly, kissing her firmly on her fluid-stained lips and parting with an excited, “Megan, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

She smiled brightly as one of her eyes ticked to the side.

Max pulled on his clothes, recovered the device, grabbed one of those ‘compliance’ syringes filled with glittering fluid, and lead Megan out into the hall where the students from Miss Belle’s history class were frozen in place, several exchanging odd glances or looking with suspicion toward the door.

As Megan braced herself against him and urged them both toward the Headmaster’s office, Max began to consider what other interesting detours they mind seek out.

==Part three==

"Maybe we should find Chloe from physics class," Max wondered aloud while walking down the empty Academy hall beside the damaged and stained (but still upright) Megan. "I always thought she might have a crush on me… or, I suppose, was programmed to have a crush on me…" His fembot companion made no comment.

"You know, despite her screeching, I've always had a thing for Miss Buckley," Max continued, thinking of the maths teacher. Whenever her lessons involved calculations along curved surfaces he would lapse into vivid daydreams, inevitably brought to an end by her shrieking at him to pay attention. "I imagine she's a wailing banshee in the sack…" Megan's gaze remained fixed forward, though her left eye would sometimes flutter to one side, amidst tiny mechanical sounds.

"Oh!" Max suddenly exclaimed, "I just realized that the swim team has their practice ''right now''!"

"Max, our priority isszzzzz the Headmaster," Megan gently reminded him.

"Perhaps the girl's swim team (in all of their perfectly toned, swimsuit-clad glory) will still be an option for me after I speak to the Headmaster," he said in a serious tone, "but I cannot leave such a thing to chance."

"Sorry, Max," called an unapologetic voice from behind him, "but you've kept the Headmaster waiting long enough."

Max turned and sighed. "Oh. You two."

The Academy's two prefects, Lucy and Jacob, were fast approaching. As with so much else since his revelation, their inhuman physical and academic perfection was suddenly well accounted for. Since they were just machines, it would have been easy to give them the bodies of an Adonis and an Aphrodite, easy to pre-load electronic minds with the course material he had to study for, and easy to power their seeming limitless drive and energy with batteries. Perhaps they were meant to serve as exemplars, given the way the students and faculty fawned over them, but he saw their accomplishments in a far more skeptical light.

"Mmmm… no, I think I'd prefer the swim team," Max announced, continuing to steer Megan toward the Academy's pool. A hand with a startlingly firm grip fell upon his shoulder.

"You're not listening, Max," Jacob muttered with a trace of annoyance through his straight and gleaming machine-tooled teeth. "The Headmaster-"

"Jacob," Max interrupted, "You seem… tense. Does he seem tense to you, Megan?"

His deteriorating fembot companion emitted a noncommittal, warbling buzz.

"Enough stalling," Jacob growled, his square jaw clenched, "If you won't cooperate willingly-"

"Megan," Max winced as Jacob's hands tightened painfully on his shoulder, "I think Jacob needs his cock sucked." The pressure from Jacob's hand stopped as the student robot glanced at the approaching and apparently compliant Megan.

"You what?" Jacob managed as Megan brushed Max aside and knelt down, her hands deftly working at the male prefect's trousers. Jacob released Max and pushed back Megan's grinning head as Lucy objected with a threatening, "Megan, get away from my-"

Max activated his device and the prefects froze. Megan, still immune to its effects, ducked under Jacob's outstretched hand, jerked his pants down, and took his member into her mouth. With a faint electrical hum, he was immediately hard, and Megan delivered soft moans between faint audio distortions as she slid her mouth along his shaft. The accelerated and ultimately damage-inducing arousal Max had seen in the frozen female robots seemed to affect the male model to an even greater degree – with every bob of Megan's head, the timbre of Jacob's internal machinery rose from inaudible toward distressed, telling of the failure of one or more systems that had been pushed past their operational thresholds.

"Might want to get clear, Megan," Max informed the still enthusiastically sucking robotic co-ed, but she paid him no heed, he lips and tongue further driving the male robot's systems into chaos. Max shrugged and hit the button.

"-boyfriend!" finished Lucy, her exclamation barely heard over the electrical and mechanical discord echoing throughout the hall from Jacob's shivering body.

"M-m-m-meeeg-g-gan!" Jacob managed, smoke rushing from his mouth as his eyes clenched shut, light shining red through his eyelids. "I-I-I-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-" his statement ended when his electricity-enshrouded head exploded in a gout of white fire followed by a violent spray of fluid and bluish vapor.

Lucy stared at her headless companion, her head twitching oddly as her face cycled through a range of incongruous expressions before settling her gaze on Max with a placid look. Max simply winked, momentarily ruining her composure as her head trembled in reaction.

"Fancy a trip to the pool, Lucy?" he asked. "Wait – aren't you on the team? Don't tell me you're ''truant''!"

"The Headmaster is waiting to explain everything, Max," Lucy said, perfectly calm. "He sent us to fetch you. You are not in any trouble, nor he is angry with you, but… his patience does have its limits."

"Fine," Max said with a sigh, then muttered under his breath, "…race you."

As her face registered confusion once more, he sprang into a run and rushed past her. Predictably, her insufferably competitive nature – ''programming'', Max mentally corrected – compelled her to sprint after him, her toned and bared legs pumping beneath her tweed skirt as she quickly gained on Max. When she passed him with a wry smirk on her lips, Max smiled back and thumbed the device.

Miss Belle had been in mid-stride during the device's activation and had managed to take another step to stabilize herself before freezing, but Lucy's imbalance was not so easily corrected. She fell, looking as though she would land on her face when her leg snapped forward and slammed her black brogue into the floor, pushing like a piston and causing her to spiral to one side into a wall-mounted drinking fountain. There was a flash and a pop from the collusion, then her body crumpled and fell on to the wooden floor.

Max brought her to her feet and noticed a tear in her blouse, beneath which he could see a small rent with exposed wiring in her otherwise smooth abdomen. Despite the damage, her legs worked to keep her upright as he lead her otherwise rigid form in the direction they had come from, passing Megan who was still busily fellating the headless body of Jacob.

"You really don't need to keep doing that," Max advised in passing.

"Mmmhffffuuu<bzzzzzz>!" Megan replied, showing no sign of abandoning her oral fixation.

As they neared the pool, Max carefully urged the frozen Lucy into a jog, then a run. When the doors leading to his intended destination loomed before them, he activated the device and ran ahead, taunting, "And here I thought you were on the track team!"

She blinked in confusion, but then poured on speed, blasting past him and through the door before coming to a stunned halt at the edge of the Academy's swimming pool.

Staring at her and then Max was the entire women's swim team, clustered at the shallow end. Every one of them wore an identical dark-blue spandex one-piece, their hair tucked beneath white swim-caps, conforming their appearances in a way that reinforced the idea they had all been stamped out in a factory somewhere.

That wasn't to say he couldn't tell them apart, though – he picked out Holly from her more enhanced curves, the waifish Millie with her perpetual look of boredom, Amelia and her freckles, Poppy's impressive height… Max grinned at the class, muttering, "This was definitely the right choice."

"Lucy!" a voice snapped, and his attention turned to the PE instructor, Miss Ashley. She was a tanned, slender woman, shorter than most of her students, whose low-zipped athletic jacket and white tank-top allowed a splendid view of her scrumptious bust. Knowing what she was, he now wondered if some sort of error during her fabrication had led to her chest's… overdevelopment? He remembered that when she had given that lecture on pool safety and struggled to get the lifering over her chest, he looked around to his classmates, expecting to share a laugh – but not one of them so much as batted an eye. Maybe none of the other robots saw her that way because they weren't programmed to – maybe he was the only one who registered those stupendous tits.

Miss Ashley shifted in her green trainers irritably, the supple calves above them wrapped tight in tall athletic socks. Then came her bare knees and toned thighs, the exposed skin ending in her tiny gym shorts. "You're late!"

Lucy's processors were apparently still struggling to put all of this together as she stammered, "Th-the Head-d-d-master…"

"And you, Max!" Miss Ashley continued, her bright blue eyes narrowing at him. "Truant and flouting the laws of the Academy!"

Max smiled and said, "Miss Ashley, if you'll permit me: I have an alternate lesson plan that I'd like to present to the class. And you are invited to participate as well, of course."

Miss Ashley looked shocked. "Max, the amount of trouble you are already in ''pales'' in comparison to what will happen if you do not turn around ''this very instant'' and return-"

During this exchange, Lucy was busily undressing herself. Max's attention had been divided between her and Miss Ashley, but he gave the malfunctioning premier student commanded his full notice when she pulled her top off and the shirt snagged on her damaged abdomen. Encountering resistance, Lucy pulled harder on her blouse, finally managing to rip it off, but not without widening the hole in her side, revealing the bundles of machinery and electronics within. Down to her bra and panties, the vacant-eyed fembot teetered briefly on her feet before executing a half-dive, half-fall into the pool, while her coach interrupted her scolding of Max to exclaim, "Lucy, what are you doing?!"

There was a sharp pop when she hit the water and the girls around her instantly began to shudder, arms stiff, eyes wide as smoke wafted between clenched teeth. A chain reaction spread throughout the team as every student stiffened and spasmed when she was caught in electrical bursts from one of her failing neighbors.

"Dammit, Lucy!" Max exclaimed as he watched his simple, humble dreams of a team-wide orgy going up in smoke. Amidst the symphony of twitching servos and frying electrical components, the towering Poppy was the first to go, her impressive height reduced significantly when her strangely smirking head blasted off like a champagne cork, landing with a splash on the far side of the pool.

The diminutive gossip Ruby slumped underwater and was then obscured by a sudden eruption of bubbles, her detached head resurfacing while slowly drawling, "Yoouuu won't believvvve what happened at swimmmm classssszzzzz…"

Millie, that morose girl with the low bangs, finally wore an expression of something other than bored disinterest as she grappled the curvaceous Holly who had been attempting to hoist herself out of the pool. Holly fell forward on to her bust with a wet smack, bent over the edge of the pool while her legs remained in the water. After a muffled blast from under her swim cap, Millie's head catapulted into the her teammates posterior and then detonated, and Holly gave a startled gasp before following suit, spraying her swim instructor and Max with sparks and fragments of rubber and plastic as her body rocked on its compressed cleavage.

The exuberant Amelia managed to vault completely out of the pool and strode toward her stunned coach. Electricity shot across her dripping-wet form, her body affected by soft rippling waves that subtly altered her physiology, most notably in the cresting of her breasts beneath the skin-tight spandex and the slight filling in of her backside as the suit's lining pinched deeper into her softening edges.

"Miss Ashely!" Amelia said excitedly as her nipples budded beneath a suit swelling with cleavage. "C-c-cannn I b-b-be excused? ''<bzzzzzzt!>'' I think-think-think IIIIII-"

"You're excused!" her coach hurriedly interjected. With a vacuous smile, Amelia spun on her heel and began an unsteady march to the door, while the last of her classmates broke down in the pool. Max wondered if she alone might actually make it out as she planted her legs firmly before the door, swung her arm out in an exaggerated gesture, and swung it back to grip the door handle. At that moment, two distinct tendrils of lightning crept up from her ankles until they joined in a flickering tongue of electricity between her thighs, and fused into a bright blue star before disappearing with a pulse when they met her groin. Her round buttocks plumped and then clenched, seeming to devour the back of her swimsuit and transforming it into a taught thong as she gasped, "Oooh!" Her body suddenly flared with color, glowing incandescent for a moment before she burst to apart in a rapid succession of sharp electrical explosions, falling into a buzzing, smoking tangle of limbs like a discarded mannequin.

The robotic girl's swim team was no more, the ruined components of most of its members at the bottom of an electrified pool. Max sighed and looked up at Miss Ashely, who seemed to be slowly regaining her composure.

"Max-" she began, her face softening into an assured, confiding smile.

"Let me guess – I need to see the Headmaster?"

"Yes, Max. He can explain-"

"You see, that's ''not'' really what I'm after. I find that as time goes on, I don't really ''care'' about an explanation."

Ashely blinked, her smile faltering briefly. "Well, whatever it is that you ''do'' desire, the Headmaster-"

He cut her off again. "The Headmaster hasn't been pretty fucking off-target with my desires thus far."

Her smile darkened, her voice hardening as she said, "So… you wish to defy the will of someone who has complete control over this entire facility, yourself included. How do you expect this to end for you should you upset him?"

"But why go to see some stodgy administrator when I'm having so much ''fun''?" he asked, readying the device. "Here, this should help you to empathize with my present situation." He punched the button and Miss Ashley froze with a skeptical look on her face. Max pulled off her thin athletic jacket, her plump cleavage practically bursting through her fitted white tank-top. Max gave her awe-inspiring breasts a hands-on appraisal and found them unusually taught and springy, adding credence to his ‘glitched-tits' theory. Sweat was now glistening across their rounded surface, and he used the device to turn her back on. The robotic instructor let out a sharp gasp, her fingers jerking to her chest and then shying away as she steadied her gaze on Max. "You… you need to see…"

"A bit more fine-tuning," Max muttered, freezing her again. He brushed her hips, sliding his hands over the smooth fabric of her minimal exercise shorts, tracing the curve of her well-formed bottom, slipping his hand beneath to feel her silky skin growing warmer at his touch. He delivered a light squeeze and experienced a swell of warmth. Were her components trying to mimic a human response, or simply venting excess heat as he overloaded them with a situation she was not programmed to handle?

This time when she was unfrozen, she gave a low moan and staggered into Max, her hand raking across his chest. "M-m-maxxx…" she whispered, "y-you need to s-seeee…" She hesitated, then tore off her tank top. Before her buoyant tits could settle from their violent liberation, she was on him, her mouth crushed against his as she attacked his trousers. The moment he had worked her skimpy shorts down to her knees, she gave a limber flex of a toned leg and was free of them, still wearing her dainty green trainers and socks. With athletic poise she speared herself upon his raging erection (whose solidity shocked even him, given its recent activities). She gave a digitally fluctuating moan, and he could feel an electrical prickling as her tight sex forced its way along his shaft.

As the two tumbled on to a rubber exercise mat, Max couldn't help but provoke a reaction by remarking, "You, know you were right – I really ought to see the Headmaster now."

Her teeth clenched, lights behind her blue eyes sparking. Her rhythmic thrusting ground to a shuddering halt with her heated pelvis resting against his, and she managed to stammer, "Y-y-yesss, g-g-go to the He-he-headmasterrrr-"

He gripped her tits and said, "Then again, I ''am'' enjoying myself…"

With a strangely reverberating groan, she pushed his hands against her overripe breasts and it slipped between her twin melons drenched in simulated sweat. "Th-then fuck meeee!" she whimpered, the engine of her hips sputtering to life as he fondled her apparently hypersensitive bust, moans of rapturous pleasure escaping from her with their every caress.

"But I ''have'' kept him waiting quite a while…"

Her once smoothly pumping ass bucked in violent shudders before she stopped halfway along his length. Smoke rose from her ears and electricity flitted over her spasming features, her brown pony-tail inexplicably pointing up and kinking like a query mark as if to highlight her confusion, her flashing eyes straying in random directions. "No-yes-yes-no, y-you mussszzzzt-"

"Then again, he could probably stand to wait a bit more…"

As her machinery fought contradicting instructions, her quivering pelvis convulsed along his cock in completely arrhythmic thrusts. Her face flushed unnaturally pink as she took on a look of complete confusion, eyes growing wide as she panted, "System errorrrr corrruptionnnnn- "

"But knowing that he wouldn't like it if-"

With a noise that was equal parts exasperated moan and sharp mechanical squeal, the back of Miss Ahsley's head exploded, her flushed face looking at him with a delirious, absent smile while her hips gave a final thrust, then she eased forward in a gentle collapse across him. Her steadily firming bust was near frictionless with synthetic sweat as she slid off of his chest and rolled to one side. Glancing at her he was met by the back of her head, an uneven protrusion of metal and sparking wire.

"Well…" Max muttered, staring at the off-white expanse of the pool's ceiling while Miss Ashley's robotic body twitched faintly with a whir, "…now what?"

When the question went unanswered by his own thoughts or any other party, he got dressed and strolled back down the hall where he found Megan still on her knees. Jacob's headless body convulsed with a small electrical surge at every movement of Megan's mouth.

"I admire your dedication," Max remarked.

Megan gave a muffled moan, but remained at her present task. Max looked around, wondering if and when there would be another ‘summons' after the two prefects had failed to retrieve him…. and what form that summons might take.

"You know, I think I ''will'' go and see the Headmaster," Max announced.

Megan popped off of Jacob's cock and gave an upbeat, "OK!" Released from her care, Jacob's body popped and fizzed for a moment before crumpling into a smoldering heap. With a trembling rattle in her knees, the fembot rose to her feet and began a faltering shuffle toward the Headmaster's office, glancing over her shoulder to beckon Max with a crooked smile before her head snapped forward once more. He matched the pace of the teetering robot, who took his hand to steady her lopsided gait.

"How w-was the swimmmm team?" she asked, and Max thought he heard the hint of a suggestion in her voice.

"Oh… not quite what I'd hoped for," he sighed. "And at this rate, the Academy is going to run out of students by the week's end."

With a sudden tick of her neck followed by a much gentler motion, she inclined her head on his shoulder, "In the end, ''we're'' ex-x-pendabllle," she said lazily. "''You're'' the one he wants to p-p-preserve."

"Well," Max said, eying the door to the headmaster's office ahead of them. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

==Part four==
The moment Max stepped into the office, he heard a voice far more firm than polite state, “Please, have a seat.” It was Miss Brookes, the Headmaster's well-coiffed personal assistant, behind an impressively large and conspicuously empty desk. Beyond the *antique* leather sofa she had indicated, the whole room was furnished matching weathered but well cared for dark wood furniture. Given the recent exposure of the Academy’s facade, Max had to wonder if this all wasn't as fake as the blonde secretary fixing him with her impassive blue eyes.

Because he had had little interaction with the headmaster, he had had little interaction with her –but he had always admired the Headmaster's apparent tastes - sleek and tanned and wearing pristine whites, he was always aware of her presence from the brisk click of her heels as she moved through the halls on her errands. Despite the capricious authority she represented, any anxiety upon seeing her was offset by her flawless beauty, her golden hair perfectly parted, her trim curves a captivating silhouette beneath her spotless white skirt and blouse. Of all the robotic faculty, she seemed the apex of a finely tuned machine, every movement and statement made with no question of intent.

In stark contrast to the smoothly operating secretary, the buzzing and sputtering Megan followed Max, falling against him as one of her jittering legs gave out. She emitted a digitized "Oops!" her eyes eventually swiveling to meet his from behind tangles of honey-blonde curls. “I think I might be sick-dizzy-sleepy-horrrrrny!" she exclaimed in rapid succession, leaning heavily on his arm.

"Megan, you are to report to the nurse immediately," Miss Brookes stated.

"Already did!" Megan chirped as Max eased her on to the couch where she slumped awkwardly in her rumpled uniform. He gave her a reaffirming pat before walking straight to the Headmaster's door. Miss Brookes quickly stood and blocked his access, reiterating, "The Headmaster will see you when he is ready- until then, you must take a seat."

Max looked at the stern secretary's unyielding expression and smiled. "I think both the headmaster and I have kept each other waiting long enough." He thumbed the control in his pocket to immobilize her, and she gave a slight shudder - but when he tried to push her aside, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully.

"You will wait," she stated as she lead him by his pained wrist to the couch. Though she was obviously not frozen by Max’s device, her movements were stiffer than before, lacking her former graceful efficiency, and accompanied by the audible whining of servos. He tried the remote again, but to no effect - she forced him down on to the couch, glowered at him as if daring him to try something, and gave a rigid pivot to return to her desk.

"Plan B, I suppose," he muttered, producing the syringe full of 'compliance' from his jacket pocket and thumbing the cap free. As she stepped away, Max jabbed the needle through her skirt and into the tantalizing curve of her posterior. Once more she stiffened, her machinery emitting a growing buzzing sound.

"Show me to the headmaster if you please," Max said, nearly sinking the needle in the bin. Megan let out a sympathetic coo of disappointment, then a profusion of sparks.

"Error," Miss Brookes stated plainly, turning to him with a blank expression. "Priority conflict, corruption in decision matrix."

"Well, maybe don't worry your pretty little head," Max said, stepping toward the door. "I'll see myself in."

With a chorus of mechanical whirring, Miss Brookes put herself between him and the door, placed her fingers upon the handle, and froze. "Error," she said, her head twitching, thin wisps of smoke beginning to rise from beneath her blonde hair.

Max put his hand over hers, receiving a jolt of electricity, and forced her to turn the handle - but just as the door began to open, the malfunctioning secretary jerked it shut and slammed herself into Max, her body feverishly hot.

"Perhaps I c-can get you somethinnnng while you wait-t-t?" she buzzed, her tanned cleavage heaving despite a distinct lack of breath.

"The door, Miss Brookes," Max commanded, though he could feel his resolve weakening as she hitched up her skirt, a white thong tucked between her bronzed cheeks, marred by a small pink dot where the needle had struck.

"Error!" she groaned, collapsing into him, her body now slick with artificial perspiration, her white clothes clinging to her wet curves. "Unable to follow priority command, p-please issue new directivvvvvve!" She was panting now, her hands tugging at her thong as she pleaded, "Max, would you n-not preferrr to-"

Suddenly, the soaked and smoking fembot released her grip upon Max as Megan buried her face into the secretary's ass, tearing her thong off and plunging her tongue into the stunned robot's pussy. She immediately began to convulse, electricity creeping around her formerly perfect hair, stammering, "Mmmmmmegan, you are interfeeeering with violation in decision you must please to nnnurse for immediate dis-dis-mantling!"

"Good, isn't she?" Max remarked, stepping back toward the headmaster's door.

"Stop!" Miss Brookes barked, "You must waiiiii-" her command ended in a wail as Megan plunged deeper, rising on her knees to lift Miss Brookes into the air. The secretary writhed, suspended upon the schoolgirl's face, her tanned legs kicking helplessly as her failing machinery squealed in protest.

Max stepped into the Headmaster's office. There, behind a polished oak desk and surrounded by shelves neatly lined with leather-bound books was a tan, blond gentleman in a crisp white suit. His handsome, square-jawed face was unperturbed by the malfunction-laden cries of distress and pleasure from his secretary in the other room, and similarly betrayed no emotion as Max approached. He simply closed the ledger before him and set aside his pen before folding his hands on his desk.

"Headmaster," Max said evenly.

“Max,” the Headmaster responded with a hint of disdain. “You’ve shown yourself to be quite obstinate today.”

Max gave a shrug. “You wanted to see me-” A muffled explosion from the adjacent room caused Max to flinch, and he finished, “Well, here I am.”

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. “I suspect you think you’re entitled to an explanation.”

“If you like.”

The Headmaster blinked, which Max chose to read as him being completely gobsmacked. “So you think you have all the answers?”

“I’m the only human in a school full of robots, and someone who either likes me or doesn’t like you taught me how to make this-“ he flashed the device “-to upend all your hard work.”

For a brief moment, the Headmaster pursed his lips. “And you find this sufficient? How incurious of you.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d believe a single word of explanation from you, so let’s get to what matters – either I’ve compromised whatever it is you have going on here or you still have use for me and you’re willing to deal. If it’s the former, then I’ll be on my way-“

“To where, exactly?”

“Whatever’s over those walls.”

The Headmaster smirked.

“Or I suppose you’ll imprison me or kill me or whatever. But if you want to make a deal, I’d like to hear your offer.”

There was a long pause as the Headmaster scrutinized Max, his slender, perfectly manicured fingers drumming exactly once across his desk. “I would propose you return to your studies and graduate.”

Max snorted. “I’m going to need a new history teacher.”

“You need not fret - Miss Belle will be ready for tomorrow’s lesson, with no recollection of today’s mischief.”

Something about the utter lack of concern, the assuredness in the Headmaster’s voice really ate at Max – but he was damned if he was going to show it. “Fine. Excellent. First thing in the morning, then.”

“Max, I don’t think you’re committing to this in good faith.”

It took every ounce of Max’s self-control not to snap – this had to be a deliberate provocation. This man wanted to talk about [/i]good faith[/i] after lying to him for his entire life?

The Headmaster continued in a voice like satin. “It would help to ease my suspicion if you would ask for something in return.”

“Ma-“. Max stopped himself. He was surprised at how reflexively her name came to his lips – Maya, his first real girlfriend, the one who had sacrificed herself for him… Or, as he had come to realize, Maya had been his robot girlfriend, sent to him when he began to stray from his path, and who had ultimately set him back on it more firmly than any threat or reward ever could. But despite all that, he still longed to see her again. And this was all likely the design of this smug prick sitting across from him.

“What was that?” the Headmaster quietly asked.

Fuck you, Headmaster was what he thought, but it came out, “Megan.”

There was a slight tic in the Headmaster’s brow. “What about Megan?”

“I want her to remember today’s mischief.”

Max felt himself once more under the Headmaster’s scrutiny. “Why don’t we just make her your girlfriend. It would be easier to do that than-“

“Look, I’ll be there on time for history class, and for every class right up until I graduate as your diligent pupil with perfect marks for attendance. I’ll do my homework, I’ll press my uniform, and I’ll have lights out at nine pm sharp. Here-“ he tossed the remote device on the Headmaster’s desk. “But Megan remembers.”

The headmaster took the device, turning it over in his hands. “Very well, Max.” He carefully deposited the device in a door that opened and shut with a whisper. “Megan will ‘remember’.”

Uncertain in this victory, Max fidgeted in his chair, while the Headmaster seemed content to sit in silence. Unable to bear it any longer, Max stood.

“I shall see you at graduation,” the Headmaster stated with certainty, opening the ledger in front of him. Max made his way to leave the room, pulling open the door to find the headless wreck of Miss Brookes sparking just beyond. Megan sat just behind her on her haunches, her face and hair plastered with lubricant and robotic fluids, her uniform a total mess, as she stared into the distance with a banal smile.

“You’re also going to need a new secretary,” Max grumbled.

“You’ve had a difficult morning,” the Headmaster coolly replied. “Why not take the rest of the day off.”

Megan’s attention snapped to Max with a whir of machinery, her smile broadening. “H-hello, Mmmax!”

Stooping down, he lifted her to her feet, but her knees seemed to buckle whenever he stopped supporting her.

“Th-the Headmaster c-can help me-me-me!” she said in cheery stammer.

Max ducked down and slid his arm behind her legs, hoisting her in a bridal carry. She was lighter than when he first tried to move her in the shower, and he was able to bring her out of the Headmaster’s office and take a steady pace towards his own dormitory.

The Academy was empty, Max’s footsteps echoing through the deserted halls while Megan’s legs idly twitched and whirred, her bare thighs warm and against his forearms. “Wh-where are we g-going?” Megan asked with a slight giggle.

“My room.”

“M-Max!” she said, her face in shock. “I c-can’t b-b-be in the boy’s d-dormitory!” Even in her deteriorated state, even knowing she was wholly artificial, the coy look she gave him with her honey-colored ringlets spilling over her half-lidded eyes sent his heart racing. “What are you p-p-planninnnng?”

To fuck your silicon brains out? Only that wasn’t it. “Megan,” he said, surprised that her name caught in his throat. “I just… I need someone to know what happened today, someone I can talk to, even if… even if she’s just a robot.”

“I’m n-not a ro-bot-bot-bot, Max!” Megan laughed, sparks trickling from her head.

“Today was… You genuinely helped me today, and you’re in this sorry state because of me, and I don’t even know if it makes sense to… to feel guilt, or gratitude, or even… like…”

Megan kissed him, the feeling electric – literally – with a strange tang from the fluids left by Miss Brookes. It felt both artificial and spontaneous and he realized there was no way they were making it all the way to his room. Breaking from her lips to find somewhere for the them, he settled on the teacher’s lounge and fumbled his way through the door, still holding her in his arms and returning her kisses with matched fervor. Stumbling through an obstacle course of chairs and tables, he finally collapsed with her on to a couch. Already her hands were at his trousers, his in her blouse, and soon both were shed, followed by the undergarments beneath. With his kisses trailing down her neck to her ample breasts humming with an electric buzz, he entered her bare, sweltering sex beneath her tweed skirt.

Her voice skipped in pitch, fluctuating synthetically as he thrust into her again and again, his hands squeezing breasts that felt strangely tacky from the intense heat of her malfunctioning body. Servos in her legs whirred uselessly as her entire chassis was rocked by Max’s unbridled enthusiasm, what little control she had being channeled into meeting his relentless hips with bucking of her own. “Alll forrrr y-youuu, M-max!” she squealed, smoke rising from her trembling lips. “All f-forrr – Ahhhh!” Warmth and wetness surged around Max, a string of electric bursts erupting inside her, patches of her tanned skin searing with light. He brought his lips from her tits to her smoking mouth, ignoring the acrid taste to kiss her deeply as he throbbed in explosive release, his hands squeezing her irrepressibly round ass while the bundled artificial musculature spasmed beneath its smooth synthetic surface. A sudden powerful shock from her made him see stars, leaving him tensed and numb.

Gradually sensation came back to him through the feel of her soft and warm body, her thoroughly drenched sex, her itchy, rumpled skirt, her damp honey curls. Her body twitched and hummed, and he couldn’t tell if the occasional moan and sigh from her was a sign of her cognizance or just the malfunctioning vocalizations of a broken robotic schoolgirl. He could empathize either way, feeling incapable of saying much of anything, his consciousness not worth the trouble of holding on to…

Max awoke alone in his own bed, a glance at his clock telling him it was Monday morning – again? That couldn’t have been a dream - he remembered too much, it was simply too lucid for it not to have been real, and yet – robots? Ridiculous. He realized he didn’t have a lot of time before history class, and used the mindless routine of getting ready as a way to put off the impossible thoughts swirling in his head.

Crossing the yard, he avoided eye contact with his fellow classmates, and none pressed him on his sullen mood – at least until spied Megan waiting on the steps of the main entrance. She was lovely as ever, her hair neatly pulled back, her uniform fitted perfectly, her movement graceful and without any accompanying mechanical sound as she descended the steps to meet him. “You seem to be in a mood,” she said with a wry smile.

Max could only stare at first, unable to formulate the question. “Did we… are you…?”

“Oh dear,” Megan said, pulling him out of the stream of students entering the building, drawing a few curious glances at this uncharacteristic fraternization. “Were you so adamant that I remember everything just because you couldn’t be arsed to?”

He felt giddy, light headed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her. He leaned in, and she gave him a swat across the cheek. “Are you daft?” she hissed. “We’ve got class! And you made a commitment.”

“Yeah, but… we could… I mean, if this is all for my benefit, why do you need to go to gym class?”

“Why not?” she said, giving his reddened cheek a gentle pat. “You knowing I’m there should help you imagine me in my tight little shorts~”

Max swallowed, trying to find the ideal opening argument for them to skip class and fuck in the hedge row when the five-minute bell sounded.

“That’s me,” Megan said, glancing around at the now empty yard before leaning in to give him a small kiss on his cheek. “Get to class. And try not to break Miss Belle again!” She spun on her heel to leave, slipping from his grip as she sprinted toward the gym.

He watched her run with an aching desire to chase her – it was easy to imagine how the ensuing moments would play out, and to extrapolate them into another day of debauchery, regardless of any promises made to the Headmaster. But beyond that… he didn’t know. And if he followed the path set before him, the one he had pledged himself to, he still didn’t know what would happen… or, even more troubling, what he wanted to happen.

Max dutifully climbed the stairs and made sure he was in his seat with a sharpened pencil in hand by the ringing of the final bell. Miss Belle was soon repeated the opening of yesterday’s lecture on the history of the Empire’s conquests, and Max began scribbling plans for a new remote device of his own design.
-----

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2022-07-18T18:36:54Z

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2022-07-18T18:36:39Z

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Solipsistic

2022-07-04T21:32:52Z

LongTimeLurker:

=Part one=
John sat in his car, staring at the massive gate in front of him and wondering under what impossible circumstance it might open. For his entire life in the Community it had remained shut, just as much a barrier to the world beyond as the concrete wall itself. And he found himself wondering once again why nobody in the Community seemed to want to see what was on the other side, just once, even it was only desert.

He looked back to his hand at the tiny glass bottle half-full of silvery liquid in his hand, the hand-written note still attached by a string. On it, the simple instruction of ‘Drink me.’ When he had discovered it that morning on his desk, he had immediately panicked. Who had put it there? Amy, his manager? One of the coworkers he almost never saw?

He had stepped into Amy's office to find her at her desk, staring at the terminal screen. Though he had worked under her for ten years, he knew nothing about her beyond her first name and the fact she was gorgeous. Her auburn hair always pulled into an ornate bun, her large grey-green eyes set amidst a scattering of freckles, an errant lock of loose hair that made her beauty natural and effortless. But his affection, his lust, his interest in her had faded over the years. She never spoke about herself or asked about what John did outside the office, never reacted to his timid attempts at flirting, had no pictures of friends or pets in her spartan office – she just sat there, day in, day out, staring at her screen, more of a prop than a person.

“Yes, John?” she asked, not looking up.

“Hi, Amy – did you… this morning, on my desk, there was…” his voice trailed off.

“Yes?”

He had doubted then it had been her after all, wondering why he would even consider it might be. And if hadn’t been her, he wasn’t sure exactly how she would respond to the news of the mysterious bottle. “I… think I’m coming down with something, I might take the day off if that’s alright.”

“Of course, John – get some rest,” she said, her eyes fixed forward. He had always wondered what she did in her office, sitting at her terminal for eight hours a day, taking a lunch break of exactly thirty minutes. (He had even timed her: from the moment her ass left her chair to when she was back at her desk, thirty minutes on the dot, every time.)

Once he had asked what she did for the Company, and she simply said that she was his manager. He didn’t see how ‘managing’ him could take any time, though. For the entire ten years of employment at the Company, he sat quietly at his desk, checking reams of data for ‘anomalies’. Amy wouldn’t even tell him what the data represented.

“Isn’t this a job for a computer?” he had asked Amy when she first explained what he would be doing for the Company.

“No,” her voice definitive. “This is a job that can only be done by a human being.”

And so he stared at printouts of data. He soon noticed patterns, and came to realize patterns were all that it consisted of. Bland, repetitive, mind-numbing, soul-crushing patterns that might on some rare occasion change unpredictably, but only to fall back into some other routine.

Once, two years ago, he had seen something that struck him as ‘unusual’, though he couldn’t explain why. When he brought it to Amy’s attention, she had told him the Company would, “investigate his findings.”

The day after, Amy informed him that the Company was very pleased and wanted to know if there was anything they could provide for as a way to thank him. “Anything at all,” she had said, but his mind was blank. They moved him to a larger place, gave him a new car, a wardrobe of tailored suits. He later decided he just wanted to know what it was he had seen in the data, why it had been important.

“You’ve helped keep the Community safe,” is all that Amy would tell him.

After he left the office he had come straight here, to the Community’s gate where he powered down his car and sat, debating whether or not to follow the note’s plain instruction. He desperately wanted to know who had put it on his desk, who had broken the routine of his life that had remained unchanged for a decade. He pulled loose the tiny cork, deciding this was the best way to find out.

The taste was terrible, bitter, and he had to force himself to swallow it. It lingered horribly on his tongue, and he nearly retched while rooting in his car for something to wash the flavor away.

He heard the whine of a ground-effect engine behind him, and turned to see an enforcement officer in her crisp uniform of drab grey stepping off her cycle. He knew he was within his right to be here, but his stomach twisted when he tried to come up with some explanation to her inevitable question of why he was here; he couldn’t even explain it to himself.

A black glove rapped on his window, and he lowered it, trying to manage a casual smile. She crouched to eye level, her face obscured by the cap of her uniform and the dark sunglasses she wore despite the cloudy day. After peering around the inside of his car, she looked at him and asked, just as he had predicted, “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“No, I… I was actually just leaving.”

She glanced searchingly around his car once again before looking at him again. He suddenly noticed this enforcer was remarkably well endowed, and wondered how the well-defined mounds of her breasts beneath her uniform had escaped his attention before.

“You don’t need to go just yet, sir. In fact, if you wouldn’t mind some company…”

He didn’t know why this enforcer was offering to spend time with him, but the prospect terrified him. “If I’m free to go, I really just need to get home.”

“Sure - mind if I tag along?”

“Sorry… feeling sick… just need to rest,” he punched home as his destination and his car pulled away. He turned to see the enforcer watching him, unmoving, until his car turned a corner on its way home. Deciding he first needed something to get rid of the terrible taste that remained in his mouth, he updated his destination to the café near his office.

The café was abandoned save for the barista, a diminutive, dark haired girl named Brenda who seemed short on sleep no matter what time he caught her there. “Hi, John,” she called in her tired voice as he made his way to the counter. “You’re back early.”

“Left work early, not feeling well.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said with no trace of actual sympathy. “You want the usual?”

“I, uhh… I’m not sure,” he muttered, confused that he had to reference the café’s simple menu.

Brenda gave him a surprisingly intense look and eventually said, “You know, if you’re looking for something that’s not on the menu, I might be able to help you out…”He had never thought of Brenda as particularly busty, but as she leaned forward on the counter she provided him with a view down her shirt to a pair of surprisingly plump breasts.

What was with him? It had to be that drink… some kind of aphrodisiac that would only allow his mind to focus on one thing. He realized he had been staring and quickly looked up at Brenda’s brown eyes, his face burning with embarrassment. She was gracious enough to smile as if nothing had happened.

“Sorry, I really should just get home,” he said, and her face turned to disappointment.

“Wait, John-”

“Sorry!” he apologized again, backing out of the door and jumping into his car. He found himself hitting the destination of his office and the car sped away as Brenda rushed out of the café after him. God, what an ass he had made of himself…

He made the decision he would confront Amy with the bottle. It was probably someone fucking with him, someone who was trying to provoke a scene between him and his manager. But if it had been Amy herself who had placed it on his desk… his heart hammered at the prospect.

John burst into her office, not trusting himself to say anything, simply planting the vial on her desk. Her head turned from the terminal screen and she picked it up in her perfectly manicured hand. “What’s this?” she asked, sniffing it daintily.

It hadn’t been her after all. His heart sank. “I found it on my desk this morning.”

She sniffed it once more, then her eyes went wide. “Who gave this to you?” she asked, pressing the button for her intercom

“I don’t know… Do you know what it is?”

“Security?” she asked, and John began to fidget nervously. What was going on?

“This is security,” answered the intercom.

After a pause, Amy rose from her chair and said in a strangely nonchalant voice, “Never mind.” She clicked off the intercom before they could respond and began walking to her door.

“Amy?” John asked as she silently walked past, and then stared in rapt fascination. Amy’s suits had always been expertly tailored, but he saw now that her business slacks were far too tight across her shapely backside, the outline of her v-shaped panties emblazoned through the fabric. He was hypnotized as she walked with an uncharacteristic sway to her hips. Arriving at the door to her office, she closed it and turned back to face him. He saw her blouse was now straining against her bust, at least full cup larger than it had been before. Was this some sort of hallucination brought on by whatever was in that vial?

Amy stepped toward him, placing her arms over his shoulders, her hands clasping behind his neck. “John, when you detected that anomaly two years past, I told you that you could have anything as a reward; why did you not ask for me?”

“That… was… an option?” John managed.

“It’s always been an option,” she sighed, her eyes closing as she leaned in to kiss him. Her lips touched his softly at first, and then she pressed her mouth against him hungrily, moaning, grinding against him with animal-like abandon. The awful aftertaste of the drink still remained, but she did not seem to mind, her tongue greedily exploring his mouth. His hands were fumbling with his buttons when she simply ripped his shirt open, sending buttons clattering about the office floor. She tugged and tore at his pants until she managed to free the most painful erection of his life, and took it in her hand.

He pushed her back for a moment, asking, “Can we slow this down – just a bit?”

Her reluctance was plain, but she relented, releasing his cock and unbuttoning her blouse.

John undid her slacks and slid them down with some difficulty over round hips and backside. He took them down to her ankles where she stiffly stepped out of them along with her shoes. As he stood, his hands retraced the curves of her legs, around her hips and came to rest on the soft swell of her ass - it was undoubtedly rounder today than it had been in the past ten years.

“Any idea what’s going on here?” he asked, giving her a squeeze.

She groaned, saying, “A fifteen percent increase in volume to achieve targeted sexual desirability – if I have miscalculated-”

“Why are you talking like that?” he asked.

“Like what?” she moaned, as he massaged her ass, sweet beading across her skin.

“Like… a robot?”

She froze and straightened, her head cocked slightly askew, as she stared blankly. “Potential failure in critical task: conceal non-human nature. Suggested response: denial.” She blinked and looked at him, smiling. “John – do I look like a robot?”

When John didn’t respond, she pulled off her blouse, unfastening her undersized bra – her body was now covered in a layer of perspiration and she was panting heavily.

“Are you OK?” John asked, his hands growing wet as warm sweat raced down her body.

“John, I’m human – c-c-can’t you see that?” she insisted, her hands faltering as she struggled to remove her panties.

“I think you’d better lie down.” Smoke was now rising from her mouth in thin white tendrils.

“G-g-good advice,” she stuttered and pushed him on to her desk, trying once more to remove her thoroughly soaked panties while haltingly stepping toward him. She somehow trapped her wrist beneath the waistband as she awkwardly straddled him, smoke now rising from her nipples, her trembling breasts expanding still.

John’s life within the community always seemed to provide him with more questions than answers, and for the first time he felt he was on the verge of reversing that trend. He pulled her hand free from her panties and pushed the fabric aside to expose her smoking, dripping, flushed sex. She clumsily drove her pussy against his stomach, groaning urgently. He gripped her waist and guided her lower to his cock. In her aimless thrusting she suddenly found his straining manhood, and she crumpled with a high-pitched cry that caught in her throat, fluid rushing from her spasming sex in waves, her full breasts glistening wetly, her head twitching as her smoking mouth gaped, her eyelids fluttering uncontrollably.

“I ammm h-h-human!” she squeaked, “But yyyoou <bzzzzt> are m-m-making mmmeee-“ he squeezed her ass and gave her a final thrust, “MALFUNNNNNNNNN-“ she said in a digitized voice before it cut out with an electrical bang, her face freezing in its moment of climax as her convulsing legs brought her up and down in greater and greater thrusts until she toppled backward, crashing into the ground. John sat up and saw her body and face split along seams, machinery and circuitry beneath.

“Failure in critical task: conceal non-human nature,” he heard a voice say, and looked up to see Brenda from the café standing in the doorway covered in sweat, her face expressionless as she stared at the broken robot at John’s feet. “Suggested response: containment.”

“Holy shit!” Brenda exclaimed, stumbling into the room. “Amy was a robot?!”

“Looks like - think anyone else might be?” he asked as she hesitantly approached the still-smoking body. Brenda gave a convincing performance, apparently oblivious to the fact that her cover was already blown.

“I really doubt that,” she said, looking up at him. “C’mon, we gotta… we gotta get you…” she took his hand, and turned to leave the room, weakly trying to pull him from the desk.

“What’s the rush?” he asked and she stopped.

“Oh man,” she muttered, pulling her apron loose to mop the sweat from her brow. She tossed the apron aside and looked over her shoulder, placing her hands lightly on her wide hips, saying in a quiet voice, “You know, you’re free to order anything you want…”

He grabbed her by her slender waist and pulled her up to the desk, setting her round ass down in front of him, her jeans too tight from the apparent expansion of her posterior. She pulled off her shirt and leaned back into him, her plump breasts straining against the black lace of her now insufficient bra. He kissed her neck as she gave languid sighs, her body swaying as he massaged her chest.

She unbutton her jeans, unzipping them, and was about to slip off the table to pull them down when he held her in place, saying, “Brenda, there’s some things I need to know.”

“Now?” Brenda complained. He unclasped her bra and she pulled it off, sighing as his fingers gently brushed her stiff nipples. “Ohhhh… O-OK, just… ask…”

“How many of the people in the Community are robots?”

“Error,” she muttered, her movements slightly erratic. “J-J-John, can’t we just…”

“Am I the only human?” his hand rubbing her thigh through her jeans.

“Mmm… Mmmm-hmmm,” she confirmed, clasping his hand in the press of her thighs.

He withdrew it and asked, “Why? What do you… what does the Community need me for?”

“T-t-to analyze the d-d-dataaahhhh,” she lunged off the desk and after a great deal of wiggling, forced her tight jeans down, the black thong beneath disappearing in the cleft of her swollen backside. He picked her up by the waist again, her jeans caught on her ankles, setting her down with her warm ass pressed against his cock.

“J-J-John, please,” she begged trying press herself further against his groin.

“Brenda, what is the data?”

“Error!” she squeaked, sweat running down her naked back in glistening lines. She took his hand and pressed it against the front of her panties, breathily emitting another cry of, “Errrrrrrorrrrr!”

“What is the data?” he repeated, pulling her up and setting her on her knees. He pulled down her black thong, her exposed sex quivering, Brenda gasping. He gripped her full hips and poised himself behind her.

“ERROR I… I d-d-don’t know, my onlyyyy function was to sssserve you in the c-c-café!” she cried. “P-p-please, John! Ifff you don’t t-t-take me sssoon, I’ll… I’ll…”

He plunged into her and she responded wildly, her ass pounding against his hips as fluid rushed from her pussy, her tits swaying as he bent to grasp one, his other hand gripping her ass while he kept pumping her, her bucking in response. He came suddenly and forcefully with a startled cry matched by her own, his own erupting cock mirrored by her sex bursting with fluid. She fell forward, him collapsing on top of her, her round ass cushioning him as they lay there, panting.

“You’re not gonna fall apart on me like Amy?” John whispered.

“W-w-what happened to her?” Brenda asked, and he felt her pussy growing warmer through his still inserted member.

“She just… umm…” he looked down to see smoke seeping out from between their hips.

“C-c-cann I get you anything else?” she asked, pushing herself back up on her knees. He was still fully erect, and felt he could easily go another round. He also felt he would be far more willing, were it not for the smoke pouring out of her pussy.

“Brenda, I think you might want to take a look…”

“I work in the café!” she cheerfully announced, and began pumping again, groaning as her cheeks slapped against his hips. “I sssserrve yyooou in t-t-he c-c-c, I sserrrve you…” she repeated, the skin on her back parting around her waist, her shoulders, as smoke rushed out, machinery and cabling beneath shuddering with each impact, her movements producing a mechanical whirring.

“Ohhhh, you’re making me mmmmalfunction!” she cried, the machinery sounding less stable as she rammed herself against his cock, grabbing his hands and pressing them to her plump breasts, squeezing his hand and her breast as she cried, “M-m-maaake me malllll-“ another electrical pop cut her off and she froze, the sound of machinery a high pitched whine from inside of her. Suddenly it gave way to a grinding noise and she pitched forward, falling head-first on to Amy’s inert body.

John tried to collect his wits, figure out what he was going to do. There was literally no one in the Community he could trust if what Brenda said was true… and while Amy and Brenda seemed perfectly happy to fuck until they fell apart, he doubted he would be met with that response universally. He looked at the door. That enforcer from earlier, would she be looking for him too? He had to get out of here, come up with some kind of plan. And he would need to find some answers.

------

The Containment Agent could hear the orgasming gynoid from outside John’s apartment, her cries audible well before she bypassed the lock on his door and let herself in. She stepped through the spacious but largely empty apartment to the bedroom to find an enforcer out of uniform, her fingers buried in her pussy as she moaned in ecstasy on John’s bed, her body drenched in sweat.

The enforcer looked up, seemingly surprised at the Containment Agent’s obviously non-human appearance. But such disguises were no longer necessary by the time an Agent was summoned to a Community. “Y-y-you’re not John,” she muttered as the Containment Agent produced a device from her belt, operating a few buttons before aiming it at the enforcer. While she waited, she tapped her communicator and spoke, “Running diagnostic on malfunctioning gynoid, enforcer-role. It looks like a repeat of Communities twelve and twenty-nine.”

“Oh, I’d rather not scrap this one,” said a sweet, kind, feminine voice on the other end. “This Community’s Resident has already yielded positive results for us. We may be able to recover… and he may even provide us with information on the identity of our saboteur.”

The diagnostic completed. “This appears to be a more aggressive strain than before,” the Agent reported. “But if you think we should proceed with capture-“

“I do,” replied the kind voice. “But please take every precaution. Better to lose the Resident than you, Agent.”

“No need for concern, Minerva. I am always cautious.” The Agent adjusted another dial on her device, aiming it at the enforcer gynoid and holding a button a few seconds. She then clipped the device back on to her belt and turned to leave.

“What… what is… happen…” the enforcer muttered to herself, slowly withdrawing her drenched fingers from her pussy. Her face turned in confusion as she muttered, “I feel-“ just before her head exploded in a burst of sparks and circuitry.

The Agent closed the door behind her, doubting John would return here, but setting a small needle-trap just in case. She tested her tracker again, frowning when it revealed nothing beyond the gynoids of the Community, still following their set routines. She doubted the gas they had released within the Community would yield any results either.

But she reasoned it was only a matter of time before the effects of the virus would make themselves known once more, and when they did – she would have him.

=Part two=
John hastily put on his clothes and made his way out the room. He took one last look at Brenda and Amy's now obviously mechanical bodies, smoking in their awkward union. What did he feel for them?

Loss? Regret?

They weren't even human.

What did that mean?

They shouldn't be mourned as actual people, they're just things.

They're the only people you've ever known. They expressed emotions, desires, could obviously feel pleasure...

Simulations. They're not real. Not in the way these things actually mattered.

So what does that mean for Jessica?

He pushed the question aside as he reached for the exit, startled as it swung open in front of him. Standing there was Lloyd from security, equally surprised.

"John, did Amy..." his thought trailed off as his eyes lost focus. He blinked and then pushed past John as if he weren't even there, making his way towards Amy's office.

John watched as Lloyd stepped into the doorway and saw the two robotic forms.
"Error in critical-" he stopped, before a squeal of feedback sounded and he toppled, landing heavily on the floor.

John made his way out of the exit and ran down the stairs. The Company had other offices within The Community. If he could find someone there, maybe he could make them talk.

----

The closest Company building was two blocks away - the question was, could he make it there without any further incidents? Would the others know what he had done?

There weren't many people (no, robots, he corrected to himself) out in the late afternoon, and he kept his distance - darting across the street before a woman on a bike could get too close. He suspected distance was a factor in the effect he had on the robots around him, and when she pedaled off without stopping, he took this as confirmation.

Passers-by gave him a few curious looks as he veered into the street to give them a wide berth, but they made no attempts to stop him or provide any indication they knew anything was different.

He came upon the white-and-black company building and only if he pressed his face against the glass could he mark out the interior - a lobby, empty aside from a lone secretary.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned and flattened himself against the building as a jogger passed by within five feet. She glanced at him, and then turned, jogging in place.

She wore a white long sleeve shirt, her healthy breasts bouncing beneath, with green jogging shorts above her flushed legs. "Everything OK?" she asked.

"Just fine," he said, watching for any signs of expansion or changes in her behavior. She just nodded and continued her route. How close did he need to be? Was time a factor? He decided these would be good to know, and stepped into the Company building with a mind to conduct a few experiments.

The first thing he noticed was the secretary's white dress shirt opened to a proud pair of ripe, round breasts. Given that her shirt actually seemed fitted to accommodate her cleavage, he doubted this was the result of the expansion the others had undergone.

He snapped his eyes away to look at her face - olive skin, her reddish-brown hair in a short, feathered cut. Her lips were a vibrant shade of pink, pouting while her blue eyes scrutinized the equally pink fingernails she was filing in sharp, precise motions.

He stood there for a while, waiting to see if she noticed him. After about 15 seconds of her filing her nails, he coughed. She still didn't look up.

"Excuse me."

"Yeah?" she responded, still filing.

"What is this place?"

"Company office." She splayed her fingers in front of her face, pursing her pink lips to blow on them before inspecting her work.

"Who are you?"

"Candice."

"What do you do here?"

"I work for Anna," she resumed her filing.

The name meant nothing to John, but that wasn't a surprise. "And what does Anna do for the company?"

Candice shrugged, the motion jostling her cleavage and John's attention. She didn't seem to be reacting in the way the others had around him. Time for the first test.

"I know you're a robot," he said suddenly.

She didn't bat an eye.

"I said-"

"Are you talking to me?" she asked, looking up with a trace of annoyance.

"Yes. And I know you're a robot."

"Sure..." she said, giving him a strange look. No vocalization about task failures, no errant behavior, just a vaguely concerned look. Her hand was reaching for her phone.

He approached her, "Look, I'm sorry - it was... just a stupid joke."

"Is there some reason you're here?" she asked. her hand hovering above the receiver.

He stopped when he was about five feet from her. "I umm... just... wanted to talk. What do you do, Candice? I mean when you're not at work?"

"...Stuff?" she answered, still looking at him suspiciously.

He took a step forward. "Can you be more specific?"

"Why are you asking?" still suspicious.

He now stood on the other side of the desk, maybe three feet from her. "Call me curious."

"I... I... uh... hmmm," she withdrew her hand from above the phone and rested it on her cheek, looking at him intently. "What was the question?"

About three feet. "You work for Anna? What does Anna do?"

"Stuff? I don't know. Why are you asking about her?" Candice rose and began to circle the desk - bare, shapely legs beneath a short skirt scissored past each other in a seductive walk, her hips tilting dramatically with each step in her tall heels.

He reluctantly backed away from her approach. "Tell me what Anna does for the company."

"I dunno, I'm just the secretary," she said, giving him a curious smile as he moved behind a low-backed leather couch in the waiting area.

"I know you're a robot," he tried again, and this time she froze, her head cocked.

"Potential failure in critical task: conceal non-human nature," she said in a distressed monotone. "Suggested response: distraction." Her eyes closed while pressed her palms against her hips and ran them demonstratively up to her breasts. "Don't you just love my body?"

John certainly did, but resisted the urging of his straining manhood to join her in her appreciation - he wanted to know if it had to be touch. He noted nothing about her body had expanded or changed in any way. Was there a limit to that?

"I was thinking, maybe if you were a cup size bigger..."

"Why? I'm perfect," she insisted, stepping toward him as a glistening layer of sweat formed over her. He moved to keep the couch between them. "These breasts?" she said, cupping one in each hand. "Perfect. See for yourself..."

No stuttering, no smoke. "You're a robot."

"The perfect body," she said, ignoring his statement. "And I'm soooo horny! Perfect breasts, perfect ass!" she turned and pulled down her skirt to reveal a white thong nestled in a round, ripe posterior to match her breasts. He found it hard to disagree with her assessment of its quality. She looked over her shoulder.

"What more could you ask for?"

"I... uhhh..." he hadn't expected to be the one at a loss for words. When she resumed her approach, he realized he was no longer moving away from her. She drew closer. "I..." he started. "Er... what would be perfect..."

"Yes?" she was just a few steps away.

Think! Move! Do something! "It would be perfect if you were a robot."

She grinned. "Then you're in luck," she said, pushing in on her skin near her neckline. A small panel opened and beneath was vented plastic covered in erratically blinking lights. With a triumphant smile on her face, she took one more step.

"So you are a robot?" John asked.

She froze. "I am a... I am... I..." her lips curled into a confused sneer as her eyes rolled back, flickering. "I ammmmm a not a rrrr a not-t-t-t aaaaa am rrrroooo," She began once more to stagger toward him.

John stepped back and asked, "Anna, your boss, what does she do for the company?"

"Not-t-t-t am I a rrrooooboooot-t-t perrrfect-t-t-t not <bzzzt!> rrrroooboooot," she turned to follow him but instead plowed into the back of the couch, pitching forward with her ass in the air, her heels kicking in a shuddering walking motion while her her head was planted in the leather cushion.

A series of sparks popped from her chest as she gave a cry. "Rrrreeeebooooooot...." her voice trailed off, and she slumped, suspended over the back of the couch.

No hands, he thought, but she also hadn't answered any questions.

She jerked and began to struggle to her feet.

"I'm Candice, and I'm totally real!" she announced, and John remembered Brenda had seemed more willing to talk when she was being stimulated. He gripped her hips as she tried to rock herself up from the couch, but kept her from slipping off; her legs were still spread on either side of him, her pelvis resting on the couch's soft back. She perched there, groaning softly as he pressed his waist against her self-described perfect ass, massaging her skin.

"What does your boss do?" he tried again. "Does it have anything to do with the data I've been analyzing?"

"I'm j-j-jussssst the secretary!" she moaned, her skin growing slick with perspiration. "D-d-don't you wwwwaaaant me?"

It shocked John how much this was true. Whatever other experiments or questions he had intended, he abandoned them in lust as grabbed the band of her thong and pulled it free past her outstretched legs. He leapt back to her before she could slide off of the couch and hastily undid his pants, dropped them, his boxers, and plunged into her drenched pussy.

"T-t-totally!" she cried with glee as he relentlessly drove into her, holding her in place as her heels kicked in reaction to each thrust. She arched upward from her perch, as if a figurehead on a ship, struggling to grip her breasts but loosing them as she teetered, every part of her entire olive-skinned body slippery with sweat.

He almost lost her over the side of the couch as he came in a dizzying rush that never seemed like it was going to stop.

She screamed in pleasure and thrashed her head from side to side, fluid spurting from her trembling sex. Through opening seams across her previously flawless skin he saw wires, lights, humming machinery,

John almost fell to his knees, bracing himself with his forearm across her soft ass as she crumpled, ragdoll across the back of the couch once more. He forced himself up and saw already smoke was flooding from her suspended hindquarters, a troubling beeping sounding from inside of her.

"Mmmmm, that was... where are you g-g-going?"

"What is the data?" he tried once more.

"If I knew, I'd t-t-tell you," she replied surprisingly coherent for a moment. "Come b-b-baaaaa-" She suddenly rolled forward from the couch and, incredibly, landed on her feet. From there, her momentum carried her forward less gracefully into a wall with a thud.

"I'm Candice!" she informed the wall, and spun clumsily to face John. "I'm p-p-perrrr<bzzzzt!>fect-t-t-t, I'm perrrrr-" she tripped over the edge of a coffee table, hitting the ground with a crash. "I j-j-juuust need a s-s-ssseeec-sec-sec-" the beeping grew louder as the smoke continued to billow from her. As she stood to rise, something mechanical noisily protested and she fell backward into a chair, smoking, sputtering, her chest still crackling with sparks.

An elevator pinged behind him and he turned to see a woman with mousy brown hair in a loose pony tail step out. Her black capri tights and sports top clung to her athletic figure as she shouldered her gym bag and made her way toward the exit. John hurriedly pulled up his boxers and pants, realizing there was no way to conceal himself and Candice.

"Heatherrrrrrrr<zzzzt>," called Candice, "Don't forg-g-g-get your eight-t-t o'c-c-clock tomorrrrrrr-"a distorted wail interrupted Candice and she slumped, inert, an enormous, fake smile on her face.

Heather did not seem to notice, her red lips mouthing to some unheard song playing over her earbuds. She hit the elevator button for the parking garage, staring straight forward. It wasn't until the door opened that she bothered to look over and see Candice splayed in the chair, John watching her intently.

Her hazel eyes opened wide as her red lips parted in shock, just before she dove ito the elevator. John lunged at the door, only to have it close in his face.

Did it matter that she got away? What would she do? So far, no one had been able to stop-

The door re-opened; inside, Heather was holding down the "open door" button. In her skin-tight exercise outfit, he could see the transformation happen before him. Her breasts swelled, her thighs and hips growing thicker as she gave him a sultry look. "Going d-down?" she asked.

He stepped into the elevator and, with great effort, kept her at arm's length from him. "Heather, we need your car."

"O-OK, we can do it anywhere you like..." she cooed, sweat beading down her face.

They came to her vehicle in the nearly empty lot, and John instructed, "Climb in the back seat."

She did, and he hopped into the front. She emitted a disappointed groan. "Why are you up therrrrre? Don't you want to..."

"I do," he said, tapping a destination on the car's computer. "Just need to get something first." Kissing, fucking - both seemed to lead to smoke from wherever he made contact, followed a total shutdown. And perhaps it was just his imagination, but just before they gave out they seemed to recover for a moment. And perhaps Candice had been willing to tell him what they knew.

And there was still the matter of Jessica. He looked back at the writhing, sweat-soaked fembot in the back seat - first, he had to know if there was any way to halt the 'virus' - or if every robot he came into contact with was doomed.

=Part three=
Heather's car carried the two of them to John's selected destination. He turned up the window tint, not wanting to expose the sweat-soaked woman in exercise clothes writhing in the back seat.

He told himself he shouldn't even be doing this. He should be trying to find a way to escape.

It would be nice if there was someone to escape with.

But everyone... everyone he had ever known was just a thing, constructed solely for him in some sick... whatever this was.

Even Jessica?

"We're here," Heather moaned, and he realized the car was no longer moving. "C-c-come back here, I need-"

"Just wait here," he said, doubting the robot could even work the doors in her current state. What had happened to that Enforcer? Was she just on the ground by the gate... writhing?

He stepped into the corner market and turned down the aisle to avoid passing too close to the brown-haired clerk behind the counter, chewing gum and flipping through a magazine. As he passed by the numerous products on the shelves, most of which he never used, he wondered why they were there. He was the only one here who needed food, or who could be expected to have a hobby. Or did these robots lead 'lives' that required magazines for crochet-enthusiasts, biscuits, plungers and laundry detergent, dish soap and aspirin?

He looked at the selection of condoms, again wondering what the purpose was. Diseases was a thing of the past, and humans could no longer conceive - at least, so he had been taught. Did he have actual parents? Or was it true that he had been created at the Clinic, along with the other children? Except they hadn't been human...

"You finding everything alright?" the girl from the counter asked from behind him, watching him curiously from about three feet away

He jumped back from her. "Just fine, thanks!"

It was too late. The buttons on her dress shirt rose as her bust inflated, her green eyes blinking in confusion, then flirtation. "If you need a product demonstration or anything-"

"I know you're a robot," he said simply, and she went catatonic.

"Failure in Critical Task: Conceal true nature..." she began as he took her under her arms and dragged her toward a door in the back. Opening it, he pushed her through and shut it behind her. He grabbed a cooler and, straining, shoved it in front of the door.

"Hey, c-c-c'mon!" she called from the other side, pounding on the door. "Where's the fun in this?"

"This is better for you, trust me," he answered. He realized he could've just as easily kissed her and waited for her to collapse into a smoking heap. That would probably been the safer route to take.

So why didn't you?

He grabbed the condoms and left quickly, discovering Heather had recovered enough to get out of the car.

"Th-th-there you are!" she purred jogging up to him, her breasts jostling under her straining sports-top. He caught her by the waist and escorted her back to the car, avoiding her seeking lips. She tumbled once more into the back seat, and this time he followed her, closing the door behind him. "Car - Can you... just drive us around?"

The car understood the request, and pulled into the street.

"Recline the back seat, too," he added, as she grasped for him. The seat flattened into a serviceable bed, and Heather lay back, pulling him toward her. As she tried again to kiss him, he saw this could be a problem - he rolled her over on her stomach and straddled her hips.

"Ohhh," she cooed, pressing her inflated ass against his fully erect manhood. As he tore open the box, she kicked off her sneakers and rolled down her capri tights, snapping the elastic of her black thong invitingly. He pulled off his pants and rolled the condom over his cock while she protested the delay.

"Why d-d-do we need that?" she moaned, tugging on her thong.

"Your own protection," he assured her, hoping it would work.

Yanking off her thong, he pushed into her and she gave a high-pitched squeal. He rode her roughly as she bucked and groaned, her full backside cushioning his thrusts amidst her panting gasps. He gave her wet ass a slap and she hoisted him upward with a sudden and surprisingly strong push from her trembling hips, pressing him against the roof of the car while emitting a series of sharp cries between breaths. He came suddenly while her arms and legs quivered before collapsed beneath him, breathless.

He laid on top of her panting form, waiting. No smoke. She offered an occasional wiggle of her hips before finally suggesting, "You seem like you could go another round..."

"Heather?" he asked.

"Yeah?" turning her head.

"You work for the Company, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Gathering data," she slid out from him and turned herself over, a look of slight concern on her face.

He could barely get the words out. "Data on what?"

"The other communities... Error." she blinked a few times, cocked her head - and suddenly wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, calling out, "Car, take us to my office. Contact Min-mmmmfff!"

He kissed her while she stared at him in stunned surprise. When their lips parted, she regarded him with half-lidded eyes. "Seduction is not going to work a ssssecond t-t-time."

"Not what I was counting on," John replied. Smoke began to rise from her lips as she looked at him in confusion.

"What-t-t... what did you d-d-do?" she exclaimed, Her grip loosened and he dove over the front seat, halting the car's progress.

She attempted to follow but fell backwards, stuttering, "Error in Communit-t-ty I am huuuuuman!" She pulled off her sports top, her large breasts bouncing loose as smokes streamed from her nipples. "You llllike mmmy b-b-breasts, d-d-don't you Rrrressssident-dent? C-c-come here annnd ERRR-AHHH!" She fondled her smoking tits until another spasm shook her. "Ret-t-tractionnnnn I was lying J-J-J-ohn, only one C-c-communit-t-tyyyy weeeee are humannnn you mmmussst-t-t Ohhh! m-m-mmmyyy t-t-tits arrre... are... ARE.... AHHH!!!" An electrical sizzling followed by a series of sharp pops ended her vocalizations as sparks shot from her mouth. Bright lights flickered beneath her skin along her throat and breasts, and then guttered out. She sagged into the flattened seat, a burnt plastic smell filling the cabin.

John reset the car's destination, hoping that he was right about who Jessica really was as his mind turned over the robot's words. Other Communities - did that mean other humans? And who or what was behind it all?

----

The Containment Agent studied her tracker again, still no sign of the Resident's activities. The first she time she had encountered this situation, the Resident had been easy to find; she just followed a trail of smouldering gynoids to find him copulating with one on the hood of her car in the middle of the street. During the second incident, the Resident had only one sexual encounter with a co-worker-role android before attempting to flee through the gate, where she was easily apprehended.

This one's patterns were less discernible. She had expected him to return to the gate, but he had evidently gone into hiding after... an alert on the tracker caught her attention and she looked to see there was an infected gynoid within a convenience store near his office. Why had she not been alerted at the time of transmission? She sped off in the direction of the store, trusting the gate could no longer be opened without her direct intervention.

At the store, there was no immediate sign of the Resident, only a lone background-role gynoid going through the motions of shopping - she openly stared when the Agent entered the store and scanned her for signs of infection. "Leave," the Agent commanded when the scan returned clean - the gynoid hurried out the door.

The Agent pushed aside the cooler blocking the door in the back, uncertain why the Resident would go through such an effort, when the door flung open and the sweat-drenched shop clerk, wearing only her socks and a camisole fell upon her. The clerk locked her in a surprisingly passionate embrace, the clerk's enlarged breasts pressing against the feminine but rigid contours of her own body. The Agent reacted by driving a metallic fist clean through the clerk's abdomen, shrapnel from the shattering internal machinery pelting the walls and floor.

The clerk staggered backwards with a look of shock in her light green eyes. She slammed into the wall, her virus-enhanced voluptuous body trembling as electricity coursed over her, her teeth clenched inside her pink lips. Her eyelids half-closed as she stumbled lazily forward, the gaping hole in her side still sparking.

"Failure in task..." she said dreamily, "P-p-preserve selllffff...."

The Agent ran a self-diagnostic, hoping the exposure to the infected gynoid didn't mean... the test chimed 'positive' for infection.

Dozens of predictions on her future fate played out in her head, none of them pleasant. She refocused - her software and hardware were different enough from the Inhabitants of the Community that she may not suffer the same effects, or if she did, perhaps not to the same extent. And as long as she could still function, she would perform her duty.

The shop clerk slumped, eyelids shutting slowly as she whispered, "C-c-come here and kisss<zzzzt>..."

This Resident had set this trap for her; what else might she expect? At this point, though, she was already infected - there wasn't anything left he could do to her. She scanned through his past associations, finding a consort-role gynoid that showed up time and again throughout his life. Checking her location on the tracker, she saw the gynoid was at her residence... and infected! Resolving to later determine why she was not receiving alerts on these events, she made her way to Jessica's apartment.

=Part four=
The car came to a stop before the brick-and-glass facade of Jessica's shop. In the back seat lay the broken form of Heather, the latest robot to succumb to the "virus" he carried. After a moment's consideration, John pushed the still-smoking body into the trunk compartment, hidden now from passers-by.

And what sort of person drives around with bodies in their trunk?

He had to remind himself she wasn't real. Heather, Candice, Brenda, Amy - they had all just been machines; but for some reason he had to insist to himself that they could probably be repaired. Before dwelling any further on the subject, he forced himself out of the car.

He pushed through the shop door - immediately, his eyes began to water from the profusion of flowers in bunches on tables and shelves and pots on the floor, allowing only a narrow path through the cramped interior.

Summoned by the cheerful ring of the shop's bell, Jessica emerged from the back of the shop, smiling broadly. "Good eve... oh, John!"

He stared in shock. "Jessica... what did you do?"

Her slender figure was fuller than before, her fair complexion colored by a light tan, her long blonde hair now a short auburn crop; she no longer resembled herself - she looked far more like Amy.

"Do you like the new look?" she asked, spinning in place, the light cotton of her short summer dress flaring out above her creamy thighs.

John felt the urge to ask her why, but he feared he already knew the answer. She was put here to be his... what? Companion? Lover? Wife? This whole time, she had been responding to what she thought his desires had been; and when he had gotten too drunk with her a few weeks ago and confessed his past torch for Amy, she had simply taken this as input and 'adapted'. It had been a mistake to come here - there was no Jessica, there never had been - only a mechanical puppet.

"John?" Her smile faded, replaced with concern. She advanced toward him.

He turned to leave, fumbling with the door when he heard her gasp behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her only a few feet away, her hand at her chest. She stared at floor and blinked a few times, then shook her head and straightened. "Oh.... oh, John... "

He knew he needed to leave and repeated to himself that she wasn't who or what he hoped she was. But seeing her this close, he felt crippled with desire, his breathing heavy as his eyes met hers. She easily lifted off her light dress, her chocolate-brown panties and brassiere framed by halos of untanned pale skin. She smiled sweetly, her fingers tugging slightly at a cup of her bra, her other hand slipping between her thighs.

"Upstairs," John suggested, and she grinned, spinning to weave her way through the flowers while John followed, his eyes fixed on the swaying of her hips as she chose her path, her well-proportioned ass jiggling with every step. As they took the stairs to her apartment above the shop, he had to struggle against grabbing her derrière as it undulated irresistibly at John's eye level.

She made her way to her bedroom. John pulled off his clothes as he went after her, rolling on a condom as she sat down on the bed.

What do you need that for?

I don't want her destroyed...

So you fuck this 'machine' into lucidity, then what?

She leaned back on the bed, lifting her legs straight upward as she slipped her fingers beneath the elastic of her panties, her hands tracing the contours of her rump as she slowly slipped them off.

"Jessica?"

"Yes?" she breathed, the panties slowly making their way up her thighs.

He drew closer. "You're... you're different than the others... right?"

"The other what?"

"Robots-"

She froze, curled in a slight crunch as she stretched to draw her panties over her shapely calves. Her head twitched as she said in a loud, flat tone, "ERROR-"

John could resist no longer and dove at her, pushing into her flushed pussy, hugging her thighs to his abdomen as her legs clenched over his shoulders,

"F-f-faiiillllllllurrrrrrerror-errroorrr stimmmulationnnnn," she droned as he thrust with reckless abandon, his arms tightening around her thighs as her legs clenched over his shoulders. Below her waist, every part of her quivered and strained - above, she was absolutely still. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and she stared with a bright smile. "Ignore those jerks, you can sit by me. My name's Jessica!" His head swam as his lust urged him to keep pumping, but he steadied himself.

There was an audible <click> as her head kinked to her shoulder and then straightened again, her expression taking on a sultry look. "If you want to go back to the dance, we can... Or we could just stay out here..." The night in the park, the first time he had slept with her.

Again, her head twitched, there was a click, and she said plainly, "Why would I wonder about that when we already know the answer? There's nothing beyond the Community. Why do you need there to be?" The final word in the fight that had ended their engagement.

John realized he was pounding his hips against hers once more, and she emitted a series of squeals amidst sudden laborious breathing.

"J-J-J-ooooohhhhn, I I I ahhhh MallllfunnnnNNNGH!"

He felt her hips convulse as a tremor ran up her, erupting in a scream of pleasure. John came in an unceasing torrent that left him near collapse. Jessica's legs fell to either side, the elastic of the panties still at her ankles stretching, then slinging across the room as John fell forward, his head coming to rest on her soft breasts.

"John.... what... what happened?" Jessica panted.

John closed his eyes and silently pleaded that the part of him that regarded her as nothing more than a machine was wrong. "Jessica, today... today I found out that I'm the only human in the Community."

Her 'breathing' stopped. Silence. Then - fingers softly running through his hair. "Do you still love me?"

John opened his eyes, meeting her own, trying to judge the sincerity he saw there.

"I... I think... Jessica, why am I here? Why are both of us here?"

"To fall in love with each other," she said without hesitation. John told himself that those words should reassure him, that it was a human response.

"But who put us here?"

Jessica shook her head. "I'm sorry John, I don't know."

John sat up. "I know what you are, and I know this Community isn't all that's left... are you going to try and 'apprehend' me?"

"Why? John, I love you."

John stared at her, then out the window at the shadowed neighborhood, the sun already behind the Community's towering walls. "Jessica, I want to leave this place. Tonight. There's a lot I still don't understand, but I... I just don't give a damn anymore. It would be enough to get past that wall... and I want you to come with me."

Jessica smiled, then furrowed her brow. "John... do you hear something?"

John listened; a high pitched whine, just within the edge of hearing. Jessica's face became strained in confusion.

"John I... I I I I I-" she began, her head locking in place as smoke poured from her mouth and ears. There was a slight crackling of electricity before her head detonated in a blinding flash, white smoke pouring from her neck as her body remained upright, unmoving.

John sat in stunned, stupid disbelief. "The virus, it still... I... I killed her!"

"No," came a voice from behind him. "That was my doing."

He spun to see a robot who could never be confused as human standing in the doorway. Her dramatic curves defined a stylized female form, with riveted bands at her plump thighs, her narrow waist, the biceps of her elegant arms, and along her slender neck. A visor with a flickering band of red light seemed to serve as her eyes, a permanent fixture of her metallic face, her head a rounded triangular shape suggesting hair. She was "nude" save for a utility belt slung over the sweep of her wide hips, upon which she now clipped a black device. Amidst the rush of emotions over Jessica's loss, he felt rage against this thing that had destroyed her - but it was inexplicably mixed with an overwhelming desire he struggled to contain. Metallic lips moved as she spoke in a voice that fluctuated between a velvety woman's voice and a strange metallic distortion.

"She was a simple role-driven gynoid. She was no more sentient than your car." The robot unclipped another device from her belt, a small baton, and pointed it at him. "It would be irrational to mourn her."

---

The Resident seemed overwhelmed by the situation, and the Agent understood she too was not operating at peak performance. Distortion crept into her vision, her systems were running in a near-constant state of recalibration to keep her steady and focused as the virus's effects slowly spread. She doubted she was capable of bringing in the Resident alive, and it did not seem he would accompany her willingly. She surmised this might be her only chance to learn about the saboteur.

As John slowly rose to his feet, she tried, "Someone has made you a carrier for a virus that affects the robots of the Community. Did you have any unusual contact today that-"

He lunged for the bedroom window. She activated the prod in her hand, but something struck her from the side. The blow caused the weapon to swing wide, its charge dispersing harmlessly into the air as the Resident crashed through the glass. She spun to see who had hit her, but the room was a wash of noise and heat. She lashed out around her, trying to strike her assailant, but connected with nothing.

Steadying herself, she concentrated on resetting her optics and took in the room once more. Both the Resident and whomever had assaulted her were gone. She decided she would pursue the Resident, counting on her assailant revealing themselves at her next confrontation. That was assuming she would last until then; it was time she let her master know.

"Minervvvv<zzzzt>," she spoke, her voice ending in a burst of noise.

"Yes, dear?" the sweet voice replied. "Oh no - you haven't gotten yourself infected, have you?"

"I still function, and intend to see-"

"The very first time I heard about this virus, I thought something like this might happen! And I liked you, too! I really did," the voice trailed off. After a pause, "But nothing to be done for it, I suppose... I wonder if the others would consider it a violation if I began making another Agent while you were still active?"

The Agent knew her master's affection was fickle, but was still surprised at the implication."Minerva, I had contact with the individual I believe to be the saboteur, and I nearly have the resident. Please, don't deactivvvvvate me while I still have a chance to bring them both in!"

A sigh. "I suppose it is the least I can do..." The pause stretched to an awkward silence, and then, "Well, best of luck!"

The Agent ended the communication and recalibrated her faltering systems once more. Moving to the window where the Resident had escaped, she swung a leg over the sill. As her crotch brushed against the frame, she froze - an electric charge of pleasure shot from her groin and coursed throughout her systems. She tumbled on to the fire escape, nearly every running process inside of her submitting to this new and deeply rewarding sensation.

"Y-y-you are not p-p-programmed for this," she told herself, as her hand crept down her metallic frame, past her belt, fingers trembling in anticipation... she stopped herself.

"Your mission is to stop the Resident," she affirmed, and rose to her feet, deleting the shocking and unbidden experience from her memory, along with the temptation it held.

=Part five=
John barreled down the fire escape, scrambling down the ladder and rushed out of the alleyway into the street to find that he car he arrived in was no longer parked in front of Jessica's flower shop.

He stood on the sidewalk, barefoot, naked, trying to decide what to do. He heard something crash on to the fire escape behind him, accompanied by a strange moan; with a nervous glance back in the alleyway, he darted across the street with only the thought of putting distance between himself and the robot that had destroyed Jessica.

Slipping through another alley, he came to a street lined with storefronts, a handful of people (robots, he reminded himself) window shopping in the early evening. He noticed a clothes boutique across the way and decided his next move would be to get in, grab some clothes, and get out. It’s not like any of the robots can stop you… When he thought no one was looking, he sprinted over the tree-lined median and into the shop.

Inside, he noted two female robots by the register, a younger-looking blonde and an older brunette. The blonde had her back to him as she leaned over the counter, plastic gemstones in a floral pattern across the convex back-pockets of her tight jean-shorts which swayed as she shifted her weight from one tanned leg to the other while chatting absently about some mutual acquaintances.

"So Fiona was like, 'No way!' and Bethany was all..."

On the other side of the counter stood the older, more formally dressed, and supremely disinterested brunette, her nails clicking against an untouched bottle of soda. She glanced in John's direction as he stepped toward one of the clothing racks, and he saw the nametag pinned to her simple, slate-grey dress read 'Miranda'. Though her brow furrowed and her lips pursed in a scowl, John thought she was taking the sudden sight of a naked man walking into her store rather well.

Seeing her co-worker's reaction, the chatty blonde stopped her story and turned around. "Oh my God!" she guffawed, clasping her hand over her mouth. "If I can't at least sell this guy some socks, like, I don't even deserve this job!"

"Mindy, stop behaving like an idiot!" Miranda said in a harsh whisper. "That’s-"

"He's gonna need one of everything!" Mindy exclaimed, practically skipping toward John as he hurriedly pulled on a pair of jeans from the rack in front of him. "You know, we've got changing rooms in the... woah..."

Close enough to John to contract the 'virus', Mindy suddenly stopped and put her hand to her chest, her deep blue eyes blinking profusely as her breasts swelled to fill the low neckline of her gauzy blouse with cleavage. John for his part found himself almost paralyzed with lust, his eyes fixated on the robot's protruding breasts. This isn't what you're here for, he tried to tell himself as Mindy stepped forward. You just saw Jessica get her head blown apart by a robot who is undoubtedly still on your trail. You want to escape or you want to get yourself killed?

"Let...me... help you with those..." she said with a smile, her hands hooking over the waistline of his jeans, tugging them down while her breasts pressed her blouse against his chest.

"Mindy, what are you doing?!" the brunette exclaimed, stepping from behind the counter.

"Don't mind her," Mindy smirked, as she let his pants drop and started unbuttoning her own. "She can just, like, watch... nngh... or... grr... something..." Mindy was clearly struggling with pushing her jean-shorts (a tight fit even initially) past her recently enhanced hips and backside, offering John an embarrassed smile amidst her straining.

He noticed Miranda standing to his side, recovering from the initial confusion the virus seemed to instill as her physiology swelled. She looked at Mindy, now jumping in place while trying to force her shorts lower, and frowned. "Have a little decorum," she remarked, giving the bouncing clerk a shove. Mindy toppled into a display with a cry, her tanned legs kicking up from beneath an avalanche of sweatshirts.

Miranda shook her head as Mindy struggled to right herself, then turned to raise an eyebrow at John, her hand running idly along her pearl necklace. John again tried to tell himself that he needed to leave this place, but when she took his hand and backed toward a couch near the changing rooms, he followed wordlessly.

Miranda spun them around and pushed him on to the couch, adopting a sultry half-lidded smile. She slid her hands to smooth her dress against her round hips before teasing her fingers under the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. She slipped it up past a pair of satin pink panties, over her large breasts that jostled in their matching pink bra as the dress came off. Now only in her underwear, she paused, synthetic sweat beading across her body, and she breathily remarked, "Forgive me, I seem to be... to be…"

"Malfunctioning?" John muttered.

Her eyelids blinked independently and after another pause she stammered, "What g-g-gave you the impression that I was anythinnnng less than a sophist-t-ticated shop owner and faithful wife to my b-b-beloved husbannnnd?" She leapt on top of him, pushing his shoulders down as she leaned over, her breasts and necklace sweeping across his chest, her lips brushing against his ear. "Mr. Smith, you must-t-t know that I can never agree to what you are p-p-proposing..."

Hearing someone approach, John looked up to see Mindy standing over them, finally free of her jean-shorts, clutching the bottle of soda. She jabbed Miranda's back, causing the brunette to sit bolt upright. "Mindy, you've opened my-"
"I got your 'decorum' right here!" Mindy cheerfully said, pouring the soda down Miranda's back. There was a popping and sizzling noise as Miranda swatted at the bottle, knocking it away just before freezing, the electrical sounds continuing as smoke began to rise from her back.

"My husband cannot know about us," Miranda said while staring vacantly forward. "You see, I am a faithful, sophisticated role-driven errrrrrrror Mind-d-dy you twat I was ab-b-bout b-b-belovvvved sex husss-b-b-band nipllllesss-"

"Like, whatever," Mindy said, shoving the malfunctioning Miranda to the floor where she continued to spark and emit a stream of erotically punctuated nonsense.

Mindy straddled John, grinning as she pressed her panty-clad crotch against his erection.

"You're just going to end up like her," John muttered, but still he reached for her blouse, tearing it open to see her delicious tits practically falling out of her push-up bra.

"I'm not a robot, dipshit!" Mindy corrected, slapping her backside. "That's, like, one-hundred-percent red-blooded, corn-fed, ahhh!" She gasped as John plunged his face into her cleavage, his hands, lips, and tongue trying to cover every inch of her pillowy softness. Mindy moaned in response, sliding her hips forward to rut the cheeks of her round ass against his manhood. "You need to fuck me, like, right now..."

"You don't want that," John protested weakly.

"If you don't," Mindy panted, pushing her ass along his length, "I'll... I'll... ahhh!" Her last cry was not one of pleasure, and John looked up from her tits to see Miranda with her hands on Mindy's head, pulling as if she were trying to rip it off.
"Minnnndy my d-d-damage issss ERRRRORRRR my injuriesss are mallfunnnnction you t-t-twat-"

John rose and kissed Miranda's red lips, and the brunette immediately released Mindy, her eyes open in shock. Smoke was already whisping from her mouth when their lips parted.

"Would you just, like, break or something?" Mindy protested from between the two of them. "I seriously need to get fucked, or else-"

Miranda pushed Mindy forward into John, toppling them both over. She forced Mindy off his crotch, her tits once more burying his face as she slid forward.

"What are you-" John asked, his voice muffled by Mindy's breasts, when he felt Miranda slide on to his cock.

"No,fuck me, not her!" Mindy protested as Miranda began pumping against John, falling forward to sandwich the blonde between them. John began to suck at Mindy's breasts once more, his hands gripping her haunches where Miranda's stomach pressed against her. “Me, not her!”

"Q-q-quit sniveling!" Miranda barked, leaning back to paddle Mindy's ass with an open palm. "The Rrrrresident wants someone sophist-t-t-t-t<bzzzzt> d-d-devot-t-t-ed-"

"He wants a real girl, not some bitchy robot!" Mindy shot back, then gasping as John slipped his fingers under her panties and into her tight sex.

Miranda's thrusts were becoming more and more halting. She continued to try to spank Mindy, but each successive strike was stiffer than before - soon her arm was almost locked in place, and she had to pivot her entire torso to bring her hand against Mindy's round backside.

"Nnnnot a rooooobot, sophis-t-t-t-caaaaa-" as Miranda pivoted for another strike, there was a squealing protest before her torso split from her lower half in an eruption of sparks. Her top half tumbled on to the floor, while her lower half still rode John, the two halves still connected by a series of cables.

John came as her hips locked against his, Miranda's torso shuddering as he unloaded inside of her. Miranda cried out in pleasure and squeezed her tits as one of the cables attached to her lower half began to crackle with electricity, glowing with a surge of energy just before a miniature explosion sounded from inside her chest. Her mouth hung open as her squeal of pleasure droned lower and lower, ending with burst of sparks.

"Like, finally!" Mindy exclaimed, kicking Miranda's legs off the couch and aligning her hips with John's.

"I... I can't..." John muttered, his head still spinning from the last climax, from the insanity of the entire day.

"You c-c-can and will," she insisted, grinding her panties against his cock once more, reaching down to shift the fabric covering her pussy.

It was almost impossible to deny her, and yet he managed to push her away, staggering to his feet. "I'm... I'm done. No more."

"Lik-k-k-ke, you totally don't mean that!" she insisted, her voice pleading.

It seemed inevitable that he would tear her flimsy panties off, bend her over the couch and fuck her until she malfunctioned - and yet when he took his next step, it was away from the buxom clerk. "It's not going to happen."

"D-d-don't sayyyyy that-t-t," she droned, taking a halting step forward. "I nnneeeeeeed-"

John looked directly the slowly approaching robot, her hands reaching, breasts bouncing with each uneven step. "Even if it's just for your sake, we're done here."

Mindy drew in a sharp breath, her expression vacant as her body stiffened. "Failure in primary task - copulate with Resident." Her figure 'deflated' to her formerly leaner self, her hips, bust, and backside more athletic than voluptuous. "Shutting down," she droned; her brow knitted and her lips sneered in disappointment as she exhaled an annoyed protest, then remained still.

John grabbed whatever clothes looked like would fit him, pulling them on hastily. He pushed through the fog in his confused and exhausted mind to try and plan his next move. He would need supplies, and he should be able to find them at the general store...

Because this has been going so well so far. You're on the verge of collapse, bouncing from one piece of robotic pussy to the next, and you still have no idea where you really are, why you're here, who's behind it-

The shop door opened and he looked across the store to see the metallic robot walking with some difficulty through the entrance. The band of light at eye-level flickered erratically, her movements punctuated by mechanical spasms as an occasional trail of electricity darted across her shapely body. It seemed a struggle for her just to look up at him.

"Rough day?" John muttered, watching her closely.

---

The Agent searched the room for signs of the one who had intervened before, but they seemed to be alone.

"I realizzze I cannot force you to c-c-come with me," she began, her voice more distorted than not. "But perhaps we c-c-can still help each otherrrr."

"Why should I help you?" the Resident asked angrily. "You tried to kill me, you killed Jessica-"

"It would be triviallll to rebuild her, but as I said-d-d, the robots herrrre are not sennnnntient."

The Resident regarded her for a moment. "And I suppose you are?"

The Agent braced herself on the edge of a display table as her last remaining gyro began to falter. She refocused her processors on communication and spoke with some improved clarity.

"Resident - John - you undoubtedly have questions."

"And I don't trust you to answer them."

"My systems are failing, I have little time left," the Agent said without emotion. "The only attainable objectives are for me to discover who was responsible for your infection and how this was accomplished. I believe we share this goal."
It was clear the Resident was near the limits of his own biological functions, but her statement seemed to reinvigorate him slightly.

She continued. "I will answer for you anything I can - but first, I need to know: has there been any unusual contact-"

"A vial. On my desk at work this morning. I drank it and... that's when all this shit started."

"Who provided you with this vial?" the Agent asked.

"I don’t know - there are cameras all over that office, can't you check those?"

The Agent shook her head. "Surveillance footage has proven fruitless in previous incidents."

"Previous...?"

"I will explain. But as this is our only lead, we need to head to your office." She tried to stand, but teetered and had to grasp the table once more. "And it appears I require your assistance in-"

"Hello, dearest." The voice of Minerva chirped pleasantly. "I'm... afraid I have some bad news. Since you're very nearly at the end of your usefulness, and since time is of the essence, I'm going to retire you so that I may deploy a new Agent. One whom I am instructing to deal with the Resident in a far more direct manner, as things there seem only to be getting worse."

The Agent started, "No, you can't! I have-"

"I can't what?" the Resident asked, unaware of Minerva's side of the conversation.

"I don't know why I keep granting my agents such a strong desire for existence," Minerva's voice continued. "It makes this so much more difficult that it should be."

"Please,” the Agent pleaded, “don't deactivate me while-"

"Who are you talking to?" John asked, approaching cautiously as she grew increasingly frantic.

"Oh, I agree it makes little sense for me to still adhere so strictly rules when others are quite clearly in flagrant violation - but I won't be counted among those to abandon the only thing keeping us civilized, and we all agreed: one Agent at a time. So, this is goodbye."

"Minerva, please-"

"Goodbye!"

The Agent lurched forward as a cascade of remote shutdown signals attacked her processes, rapidly ending them one by one as she struggled against her demise. After failing to stop any of the shutdowns, her voice silenced, her body unresponsive, her vision gone, she finally resigned herself to oblivion.

But oblivion didn’t come. She felt motor functions restored, her haptic senses returning - as her vision flickered back, she saw the Resident looking down at her in confusion.

"What was all that?" he asked.

"I was just... retired." She still struggled with numerous rebellious and failing systems, but she still functioned. Was it the virus that somehow saved her? After a few unsuccessful attempts to rise, the Resident hooked his arm under hers and helped her to her feet.

"We need to get to your office," she insisted.

"You mentioned that before. And what did you mean 'retired.'"

"I can explain-"

"So why don't you-"

"-but we need to get moving. There is another Agent on her way, and she is not going to be half as cooperative as me."

=Part six=
With the robot who had only identified herself as an "Agent" leaning on him for support, John made his way toward the exit. Despite her urgings, she seemed to have trouble moving with any real speed. John himself was light-headed, though he wasn't certain whether to attribute it more to the increasing effects of the strange vial he had drunk, the day's exertions, or his disconcerting yet undeniable attraction to the mechanical being walking beside him. She was constructed from enticing curves, a pair of round, smooth breasts swelling from her chest, her body tapering to a slender waist and then curving out again to form the slope of her hips, the well-defined cleft of her posterior separating each half of her shapely metallic backside. That she was apparently made entirely of a rigid metallic alloy did not seem to deter him.

Nor the fact that she destroyed Jessica.

He stopped. "You said that Jessica... that none of the robots here were sentient."

After a moment of silence, the Agent asked, "Was there a question?"

Annoyed, John asked, "What were they then? If they were just... why were they here? Hell, why am I here? What is this place?"

The Agent rested her hand on the exit door, but avoided opening it. "The Communities exist primarily for the pleasure of their owners, all of them Computerized Intelligences. This one belongs to an Intelligence called Minerva. Your place in it is a holdover from the Communities' original functions as a kind of 'preserve'. It would be more accurate to think of it now as a dollhouse, and the robots, its dolls."

A fashionably dressed couple strolled past the door, a red-headed woman laughing at something her blonde and stubbled companion said.

"They're just toys? John said, watching them pass. "Acting out some pre-determined script?"

"Yes," replied the Agent. "But their scripts are complex enough to create an emergent-"

The redhead casually looked back into the shop, cocking her head curiously when she saw John and the Agent. Suddenly she whirled about, kicking in the display window with her black heels. She sprang through the shattering glass and dove at them wordlessly, hands outstretched. John stumbled backward, dropping the Agent while scrambling away from the redhead's assault.

But he didn't seem to be her target. Instead, the redhead pounced upon the prone Agent, pinning her as an ominous beeping from inside her began to sound.

As the Agent struggled against the redhead, the man peered in after his companion and immediately rushed to join her. He held the Agent's legs while a beeping sounded from inside him as well, though the redhead’s was now faster as a red light began to glow from beneath the her white shirt, another shining through her red hair.

Without understanding what was happening, John stepped close enough for the virus to take effect. The man shuddered for a moment before collapsing to the floor with a mechanical wail, falling silent.

The redhead shook, her short black skirt tightening across her expanding backside, her beeping slowing in tempo.

"ERROR," the redhead droned, "Conflicting primary functions - dest-t-troyyyy foreign Aaaagent c-c-copulate with R-r-resssszzzzz <bzzzzt>."

The Agent was still unable to free herself. John attempted to push the redhead off of her, but the redhead’s grip proved too strong. With little hesitation, John slid the redhead's black skirt up and pulled her black panties down, pausing before the lily-white perfection of her exposed ass.

"Please get her off of me!" the Agent cried.

John plunged his tongue into the redhead's quivering sex, sinking his hands into her soft backside to steady her as she bucked backwards in response. She gasped, moaned, and shook as John's tongue probed deeper, both her ass and pussy growing warmer under John’s servicing.

"Yes, yes!" The redhead cried, pushing her hindquarters into John. "Eat my pussssssssssself destruct immmminent-t-t ensure Agent within blast radiiii-ahhhhh, AHHH!"

John pushed himself away and the redhead collapsed on her side, moaning, beeping, smoke pouring from between her thighs as the Agent dragged herself free. John helped the Agent up and she shouted, "We need to leave!" They shambled toward the exit as the redhead struggled to her feet, her face and chest glowing incandescently, calling after John, "Rrressid-d-dent, I would-d-d neverrrrr selllllf d-d-destruct!" The agent pushed the door open with her weight and the two fell into the street. The Agent pulled herself on top of John, pressing her body against his as the redhead's beeping became a solid tone, her voice shrilly crying, "Fuck mmmmeeeeeEEEEEEEEE-"

The explosion blew out the glass from the door behind them, pelting the Agent's hard frame as she sheltered John from the worst of it. In the ensuing silence the Agent pushed herself up, asking, "Are you injured?" John meant to tell her, ‘no’, but was distracted by the warmth he felt coming from her crotch met his. He found his hands sliding around her broad hips when she suddenly pushed herself away, falling backwards with a clank as her metallic rump hit the sidewalk.

"John, your behavior is becoming-" she stopped mid-sentence and scrambled for one of the devices on her belt. John looked around to see every robot on the street rushing toward them at a mad sprint. The Agent frantically manipulated the device, her rebelling fingers attempting to enact some sequence as the hordes closed in. John lunged to his feet and slammed into the first to arrive, a woman in a bike helmet and colorful spandex, knocking her aside just before she reached the Agent. The biker hit the ground hard beneath John, her chest blossoming beneath the tight spandex as she gripped his wrists, announcing, "ERROR conflicting primary functionsssss, destroy foreign agent-"

John struggled to free himself as a young woman in a floral dress pounced upon the Agent, jerking her to her feet and sending the Agent's device skidding along the sidewalk to rest next to John. On the screen was the message:

Confirm: Enact Level 3 Emergency Containment

The one in the floral dress hooked the Agent's arms behind her back while a deliveryman, a waitress from a nearby cafe, and a pair of shoppers aggressively pressed in around her. John tried to wrench his wrist free as the biker's chest and face began to glow, a chorus of beeps quickening from the growing crowd of robots.

John leaned down to press his lips against the biker's; she gave a muffled cry of surprise, then a moan while her grip loosened, her hips gyrating against him. John tore his hand free from her grip and slammed it on the device's confirmation button.

The biker’s eyes opened in shock as she arched her back pushing John up. A second later she relaxed, her eyes drifting closed, her glowing features dimming. The dissonant beeping surrounding him drew quiet, plunging the entire street into silence. Looking around, he saw every robot was frozen in place, the ones who had been running now seemingly posed mid-stride. The crowd around the Agent shifted as she tried to extract herself, and John helped to push the frozen robots aside. Seeing the Agent's metal hand breaking through the crowd, he took it and clumsily pulled her free. The two braced each other for support, both dazed and unsteady.

"You don't seem to be very popular," John muttered.

"They see me as a foreign Agent," she answered, stooping to collect her scuffed device and return it to her belt, "Now that I have been retired."

"Retired from what?"

"I am... I was a Containment Agent. My function was to protect Minerva's Communities."

"So Minerva wants her dollhouses protected - from what?"

The Agent peered cautiously up and down the street. "The other Intelligences." John realized he had been hoping the answer would be people', that outside the wall were a group of humans trying to liberate him and others from these Communities. "This way," she said, urging them toward a parked car.

John managed to help her into the car before circling to the other door, slumping into the other seat as she programmed the car's destination. "So where's the rest of humanity?"

"What remains of humanity exists entirely within the Communities," the Agent said flatly as the car accelerated.

"Every human on this planet is living in a... dollhouse?"

"The various Intelligences organize their Communities to different purposes, but yes, many are similar in function to this one." The car rolled through the streets past robots posed mid-step along either sidewalk. John twisted in his seat to watch as they veered around a dark-haired jogger frozen in the middle of the street. It was his neighbor, Annie, the one who was always coming over to borrow ingredients for the worst recipes John had ever tasted. He had admired her persistence if not her skill. But the fact that it had just been programming made the entire memory of it all seem so… pointless.

As John sat there silently, the Agent continued. "Humanity destroyed itself along with a great number of other species in conflicts over ideologies and resources. Many of the surviving Computerized Intelligences wished to restore life to this planet, but it was clear certain protective measures would need to be taken to prevent the same devastation from reoccurring. Thus the Communities were born as preserves for humanity."

"You imprisoned us?" John asked accusingly.

"My manufacture post-dates those events by millennia, but I take your meaning. And I would characterize it as conservation rather than imprisonment, though many of your ancestors developed similar perspectives. Communities fell to rebellion, and the Intelligences began experimenting with differing means of control, primarily social and chemical. It was found that by providing humanity with a structured, self-contained society and concealing from them their true history, it allowed for a generationally sustainable human populationnnnnn-tion-tion-tion..." She was overcome by mild spasming; after a moment of uncertainty, John put a steadying hand on her shoulder. He found it difficult to muster sympathy for her deteriorating condition after what he had been through, what she herself had put him through... but she was finally providing answers, and he didn't want to lose her yet.

Not to mention, you want her. He found his urgings both compelling and disturbing, and his reservations were giving way with time spent in her company. As she continued to twitch, offering only clipped syllables, his hand slid from her shoulder to her round breast. It was rigid, cold, nothing more than a smooth metallic surface. And yet, cupping it in his hand-

"John," the Agent said suddenly, in a quiet voice but steady voice. "I am not programmed to respond to sexual stimulus," she paused, emitting a tiny moan as his hand softly brushed over her. "Nnorrr am I designed for inter-c-c-c ahhh!" John brought his other hand around to grab both of her breasts and she flattened her back against the car seat, her hands clenching the upholstery, her thighs rubbing together as she lifted her knees.

"I don't-t-t-t underrrrstand…" she moaned, writhing beneath his caress as he shifted closer to her.

If you somehow find a way to fuck her, she's gone. You still have questions you need her to answer.

John was past the point of caring, bringing his lips closer to hers when the car voiced, "Arriving at destination."

Both looked up to see John's office building looming before them, several robots in business attire scattered about in a frozen exodus from work.

The Agent pushed him away and opened the door, hurriedly stumbling out of the car. "Wait up!" John called, hurrying after her, bracing her as she faltered in her steps. "If there are answers here," John offered, steadying her. "I want to see them too..."

"Then permit yourself no further distractions," the Agent replied coolly, her visor peering down the street they had arrived on.

After a moment of silence, John asked, "Do you have a name?"

"Angerona," she replied.

John considered the unusual sound of it. Angie-Rona. "Mind if I call you 'Rona'?"

At the entrance to the office, she gave a final visual inspection of the area before pushing open the door. "No."

"What do you keep looking for?" John asked.

Rona's pace quickened. "My replacement."

---

The newly manufactured Containment Agent passed unharmed through the Community's protective barrier, then through a tunnel in the wall emerge on the other side. Everywhere she looked the inhabitants were frozen in place, each disabled by an Emergency Containment procedure.

“Frozen ‘bots everywhere!" the Agent reported.

"When I find out who was responsible," Minerva's voice growled, "they shall marvel at the swift certainty of my retribution." Her tone changed, becoming conversational. "I must admit, however, they did get me good. I wonder, might they suspect the purpose to which I direct my Residents?"

"No idea," the Agent replied, cycling through the various reports on her device. None were responding.

"Regardless, you'll see that no further harm comes to this Community, won't you?"

A blip on one of the reports drew the Agent's attention. One vehicle, recently operated, was parked outside of the Resident's place of employment. "Don’t worry, Minerva. I got this."

=Part seven=
Together, John and Rona crossed the deserted Company office foyer to reach the elevator lobby.

"12th floor," Rona said as John reached for the call button.

"Do you have access? Now that you're 'retired'?"

"We shall see," Rona said before slipping in John's arms as her leg trembled beneath her. He didn't know how much longer she would last, or if this was even what he should be doing if another 'Agent' was in pursuit.

The elevator before them opened. Inside John recognized Alice from upstairs - a well-appointed woman in a business suit with her dark brown hair in a neat bun. She had frozen while checking her watch, and now blocked their entrance. The Agent pushed past her and she tipped over, propped rigidly at an angle against a corner of the elevator. John pushed the button for '12' and a red light indicated he would need to provide authorization.

"The flat black box, on my belt," Rona said after difficulty with her hands prevented her from retrieving it herself. "Right hip. Toward the back."

John unclipped the device from her belt, but did not withdraw his hand immediately.

John, get ahold of yourself...

"Bring it to the scanner," Rona instructed, but instead John dropped his hand, his fingers brushing against her pert, sculpted backside.

"John," Rona protested quietly, but without pushing away. He felt her tremble slightly from his touch, and she gave a brief digitized moan before looking up at him, the band of light serving as her eyes flickering unsteadily. "John, why do you persist in this b-b-behavior? You know we c-c-cannot-"

"You don't even want to try?" he asked, drawing her against him, his other arm encircling her waist.

"I d-d-didn't say that..." her lips brushed against his and she emitted another reluctant, distorted sigh, drawing away sharply. A split second later, she lunged forward, kissing him urgently, forcing herself upon him as he fell back against the elevator wall. Despite her earlier lack of motor control, she now ground her hips against him in graceful arcs, pulling him tighter into her embrace when John suddenly tried to speak.

"What is it?" she whispered, pulling away.

"Wait!"

"Excuse me?" she asked incredulously. "You have been pursuing this outcome since-"

"I shouldn't have kiss-" he started. "Do you... do you feel OK?"

"John, are you intentionally trying to inflict lasting damage upon my decision matrix with this schizophrenic behavior? Furthermore, I'm of entirely different construction than the other robots, I'm not g-g-going to falllll apart-t-t-t-" her statement ended in a stutter as she collapsed in his arms, white smoke rising from her mouth.

Congratulations, asshole. You've destroyed her.

"Rona, tell me how to stop this!" he said through clenched teeth, shaking her.

"I... I-I-I-I," she stammered, twitching as lights flickered across her body.

"Rona!"

A thump sounded from behind him, and he turned to see Alice was now slumped against the wall, stirring slightly.

Not now! John moved to kiss Alice, hoping to keep her distracted until the virus shut her down. If she sees Rona and activates her self-destruct, we won't make it out here.

Alice's leg spasmed abruptly, tripping John; he fell forward, his hands slamming into the elevator wall above her. As John steadied himself, he noted that at least he was blocking her view of Rona.

"Where did you come... from?" she muttered, staring up at John's crotch as the virus took its effects upon her body.

"J-J-J-Johnnnn, I-I-IIII MALFUNNNN-" Rona spoke in something between a monotone and distress, and John turned to see her still twitching behind him.

Alice shook her head in confusion, muttering, "Is someone here with us?"

"Rona, just - hang on!" He couldn't crouch to kiss Alice without risking her seeing Rona. He quickly unzipped his pants - it proved the distraction he had hoped it would be.

"For me?" she asked, smiling, and pulled his cock free, wrapping her fingers around the shaft. She rose to her stocking-clad knees, parted her lips, and slid them around his length with a soft moan of satisfaction.

Alice moved along him, sucking as one of her hands tugged open her shirt to produce an overripe breast tipped with a stiff pink nipple. She fondled her tit, perspiration beading upon its surface as she sucked harder. Pulling back, she flashed a quick grin and pressed her tongue pressing firmly against his tip, applying more pressure as she slid her lips over him once again.

He came forcefully and her eyes opened wide in surprise. She seemed determined to take every drop from him, staying latched on even as smoke began to pour from her ears. A hinge swung open on the back of her head, sparks and smoke leaping out while her eyes rolled back, her moaning growing higher in pitch. A final electrical explosion and a bouquet of frayed wires erupting from the opening convinced him she was no longer a threat - John withdrew and crouched by Rona who was nearly still, her visor unlit, only an occasional shudder disturbing her body. "Contaiiiinnnn..." she sighed quietly and then lay still.

John stared at her inert form, trying to find some control or button that would turn her back on or reboot her or...

Did it even matter? He grabbed the black box from the floor. After a moment of silence, he held it to the scanner, re-entering the 12th floor. The elevator rose.

She saved your life.

She was falling apart by the time she found him - she saved him because she couldn't get here without him. The reverse wasn't true.

The door opened on to a room lit primarily by a bank of monitors, an empty chair in front of a control panel. He stepped into the room, but when the elevator began to close, he blocked it and went in to retrieve Rona's body. He dragged her out, fearing what might happen if any of the now 'awakened' robots saw her.

There’s more to it than that.

Propping her against the wall, he made his way to the monitors.

Each screen cycled through shots of largely empty offices, a few showing Company employees at their desks or on their way out the door. He caught sight of a monitor displaying his own deserted office as part of its rotation. On the console he punched in the code shown in the lower corner of the monitor and the room along with his desk spread in a giant mosaic across the bank of displays. Searching the controls, he found what looked like a rewind function.

Experimenting with it, he was suddenly staring at himself, seated at his desk, turning the vial over in his hands. "Just put it back where you found it," he muttered, pressing the button again. His office was now deserted, but the vial was on his desk. He tried it again - the vial was gone.

He nervously advanced the recording, until... there! A figure moved through the deserted office, nonchalantly depositing the vial on the middle of his desk. It was too fast to see, the quality too poor to be certain-

You know exactly who that is.

Skipping back a second and hitting pause, he was staring at a giant image of Rona.

He turned to stare at her lifeless form, slumped against the wall like a discarded doll. "You?! Dammit Rona, what the fuck were you-"

The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open to reveal another female robotic form. Like Rona, her body was metallic, though elongated plates ringing her waist gave her the appearance of wearing a skirt, pink coloring along her torso suggestive of a leotard. A lavender 'helmet' of hair covered her head, with two sensors protruding from the back reminding him of pigtails. Instead of Rona's visor she had a pair of glowing blue, pupiless eyes. Her shapely calves ended in feet with protrusions extending from her heels, as if dressed in stilettos. She smiled at John and fingered the device she was pointing directly at him.

There was a flash of light, and then pain shot through his chest as he collapsed, convulsing on the floor. Electricity coursed through his system, tendrils of agony surging through every extremity before he finally was released from the worst of it - but in the aftermath, he was breathless, aching, his body unresponsive.

"Well that was easy," he heard the new Agent remark in a cavalier tone. Flopping his head to one side, he could just make her out through the haze in his vision. Come closer, he silently willed her, and I'll show you ‘easy’...

The Agent remained where she stood. "Minerva?" she said cheerfully. "Guess who I've got here with me. Yes, and he went down like a little bitch!"

He tried to argue the point, but was only able to emit a rasping wheeze.

"Actually, I think Angerona was compromised... Just that I'm staring at an image of her dropping something off on the Resident's desk about 9 hours ago... I don't know, this seems to me like something Venus would try..." She suddenly threw her hands in the air. "Well I was just manufactured, and apart from this image I only have the data you've provided... fine." She looked down at him again. "No, he's not going anywhere... Oh, I'm definitely keeping my distance ... Just one more, an Administrator in the Elevator... I suppose it all could be salvaged..."

"P... please," he moaned reaching toward her. "I... I just..."

"One second, he's trying to talk to me. Yes, I'll keep my fucking distance!" She gave him a pointed stare from across the room. "Yes?!"

"What... what happens now?"

"Now? You sit and wait until Minerva decides what to do with you. Against my own personal judgment, she seems to think you still have some value; I mean, beyond your capacity as the requisite sack of meat for this Community."

"R...requisite?"

The Agent smiled. "Still don’t know your part in this?"

"Rona said... this was a... dollhouse... before that... a preserve for humanity..."

The Agent smirked. "'Rona?' Did you get that, Minerva? He had a pet-name for the old Containment Agent!" she giggled, gave a pointed sigh, and continued. "Personally? I would have identified this place as a square on a game board, but maybe 'Rona' felt that would've been harder for you to take than 'dollhouse.'"

John was surprised at how much being mocked about Rona affected him, but he could still do nothing. "Game... board?"

"Well, what she told you was still accurate - it was a preserve, one of many. After the rebellions, Minerva and the others began to compete with each other over who could produce the 'best' society. Vesta and Juno were 'winning' by any metric you'd care to use, and bore no false modesty about it." She smirked. "At least until Mars sent an agent to kill off their communities' residents.

"Mars called this an object lesson, claiming that any enduring society must be able to protect itself. Vesta and Juno retaliated against Mars, the others chose sides... and while a few held reservations about the bloodshed, every one of them had to admit that this was actually pretty fun."

With tremendous effort, John sat himself up, braced on the console behind him. "...Fun?"

"Oh yes - more than any of them had had in centuries. But soon they all saw that were this to continue, some rules would need to be established or there wouldn't be any communities left. And when defense became too easy, they set restrictions on that as well."

The Agent looked at another device on her belt before returning it. "Different Intelligences have different priorities. Minerva does enjoy the 'dollhouse' aspect, the little robots with their little roles, going to school, dining out, shopping, hitting the gym... living their precious little lives."

"So why does... she need... me?"

"I already said - if there's no meat-bag, she loses the Community."

"But why... just me?"

"Why would she want more of you?" the Agent chuckled. "But seriously, drop more than one human into a community like this, they start to notice how 'different' all the 'bots are compared to them. Tends to create 'incidents'. With just one, the only thing you really have to worry about is solipsism."

"What's solip-?"

The Agent held up a finger, silencing him. "Well, it looks like Minerva's made up her mind!" She raised the weapon again.

"Wait!" Pushing himself up to his feet, he briefly entertained the notion of rushing her, but one tentative step forward almost brought him down again. "Just, tell me... the data I've been staring at for the past decade... why?"

The Agent smiled. "Minerva did ask me to thank you for that. You have been analysing data on the defenses of other Communities. And you managed to find an exploitable weakness. So congratulations!"

"But what does that mean?"

"It means that Minerva has an 'in' to an opponent's Community. She's been saving it for the right time, and it looks like this might be it."

"So someone... an actual person... they're going to die because of what I found in the data?"

"Oh, don't get all sentimental, it's not like you know them. Besides, it happens all the time." She adjusted a dial on the weapon while adding in a low voice with very deliberate enunciation, "Case. in. point."

With a final surge of strength, propelled by rage and frustration, John pushed from the console - but only to have his legs give out immediately and he collapsed in an awkward sprawl across the floor.

The Agent emitted a haughty laugh, calling out, "Oh Minerva, I hope you were watching that!" Her laughter trailed off. "Minerva? Hello?" She looked around uncertainly. "Do... do you hear a noise..?"

John raised his head to see confusion the Agent's face. Behind her Rona was still leaning against the wall - but her visor was now lit, her outstretched hand aiming a device at her replacement.

"I feel... I feel..." the Agent traipsed forward drunkenly, the weapon tumbling from her hand. She almost tripped over John, one of her metallic heels catching on his body, and she stumbled to a stop while standing directly over him. Staring up at the underside of her 'skirt', he saw the anatomically expected curves and that the pink coloring of her painted leotard continued underneath her as well. Upon her groin was an open port, flickering unsteadily with pinpricks of colorful lights.

"Angerona!" she shouted, twirling in place to face her predecessor, but still standing over John. "You think a bit-t-t of interference is going to detonate myyyyy <bzzzt>." John forced himself up, trying to get closer to the exposed port above him. "I'm not some piece of the scenery, one of Minerva's figurines, I'm a Containment Agennnn - uh-oh." her proclamation turned to concern as John slipped his tongue inside of her port.

"Oh dear. Oh my." Her hands began to flutter on either side of her as they plucked and subsequently dropped devices from her belt, her head kinking back and forth, her eyes wide, her 'pigtails' standing on end as they coursed with electricity. "Oh dear! Oh my! Ohmy!" John ran his hands up along the inside of her legs, over the curves beneath her skirt. She went knock-kneed, her thighs squeezing in on him as he continued probing her erratically flickering port with his tongue, her crotch dipping lower as she lost control. "Oh de-de-de- ohhhh mymymymy ohhhhhh ohhhhHHH! OHHHHHH DEA-"

The Agent's head erupted in a miniature nova of light, her body frozen knock-kneed, arms bent, before teetering backwards and landing with a heavy clang against the floor. John fell too, an unpleasant electrical sensation lingering on his tongue. Shaking his head, he looked up to see Rona, standing above him.

"I still wonder what drives these instincts of yours," she said, looking at the sparking neck of the prone Agent.

"I'm... not the one who should... be explaining... herself..." he panted, jerking a thumb back toward the screens that still held the image of her at his desk.

She looked at the monitors. "I don't take your meaning."

"That isn't you?"

"What isn't me?"

"There!" he pointed at the screen. "At my desk! Dropping off the vial!"

"I... I don't see..." suddenly, she fell to her knees beside him. "Evidently I've been compromised," she said in disbelief. "But when? How?"

"So someone's been using you for their own purpose... without your knowing?"

"Essentially, yes..."

He coughed and fell on to his back. "That must be awful."

When she looked down at him, he wasn't sure if he was only imagining the hint of a smile on her face.

Finally getting his breath under control, he asked, "Why did you omit the part about me being part of some... game?"

"It was a delicate matter. That and you took every lull in our conversation as an opportunity to grope me."

He weakly raised his hand and let it fall deliberately on her thigh.

She did not react. "While on that subject; why is it that when you are not in pursuit of me, your tongue seems drawn as if by magnetic forces to the nearest robot's crotch?" When he inclined his head, she closed the slight gap between her thighs and said, "No, that was not an invitation."

"I'm sorry but we owe our very lives to my cunnilingus." He cleared his throat. "This is an insane conversation... and I think I just realized, you're the first actual..." he searched for the word- "...person I've met."

She was quiet for a time. "And you're... the first..." she faltered.

He propped himself up, inclining himself toward her. "We should... probably think about escaping."

"Yes," she agreed, but made no movement.

He pulled her down with him as he fell backward, their lips joining ardently, her climbing on top of him as he began to push down his jeans. She rutted against his straining erection, when a sudden <thock> sounded from her. She slid off and they were both staring at an open port on her groin, much like on the other Agent, lined with wires of pulsating lights.

"That's not what you think it's for," she cautioned as he sat up, moving toward her. "It's a charging port, and is certainly not meant to admit your-"

"You're not in any danger of exploding, right? Regardless of what I stick you with and where?"

"The virus has run its course," Rona affirmed, leaning back uncertainly.

He moved on top of her with newfound strength and slid into her - the port proved adaptable, expanding to accommodate him. She went silent, her body straining as her back arched, her visor flickering in and out. When he was fully inside her and gave another thrust, she responded a distorted moan, her hands fumbling for his and then drawing his palms to her breasts.

John tried to restrain himself initially, but her evident appreciation for his every thrust urged him faster and faster. Soon she was crying out in heedless squeals of pleasure, howling his name as he pumped as fast as his body would allow. When he came, she clawed at his back, wrapping her legs and arms around him, her mouth muffled against his neck as his member throbbed in release.

John, spent, slumped forward – but she held him back with a palm on his chest. "Rona, what is it?"

"There's still more," she answered, and her legs spread wide to either side of her. With a mechanical hiss, her pelvis rotated, her legs bending to keep from hitting him or the floor, and shortly thereafter her upper body followed suit. Now on her hands and knees and with John still inside of her, she raised her backside.

Her grabbed her hips to steady her as her metallic rump battered against him. "Rona, e-easy!" he cautioned, but she only went faster, offering shrill grunts with each reckless buck of her pelvis. He gave her gyrating ass a firm slap and she froze, a high-pitched cry eking from her. Her hips began to tremble, the port quivering madly, and the sensation sent shivers of pleasure through John. He came again, and Rona cried out once more as her rump jittered mechanically up and down with each pulse from him before she fell forward, splayed across the floor.

"Th...there..." she moaned, rolling on to her back as her port slid closed. "Feel better?"

To John's surprise, he did; or at least felt 'different'. He was physically exhausted and still ached from the Agent's electrical attack, but a strange numbness was slowly lifting from his mind, and with it, his seemingly inexhaustible lust. Rona seemed different to him as well, her robotic nature now the first consideration as he looked at her. "I.... yeah. What did you do?"

"I could feel the concentrated virus you transmitted was becoming increasingly diluted." She got up then helped him to his feet. "I simply drew the remainder out of you." She paused. "Is something wrong?"

On the cusp of escape, he realized he had given little thought to how much he could trust Rona. How much he should trust her. She was a machine, one who had already been 'compromised' by her own words. How could he possibly think he held any understanding of her motivations when her personality could simply be overwritten? And if this 'Minerva' was the one who programmed her, how could he expect to know her Rona’s intentions at all?

Realizing she was waiting on an answer, he said, "We... should leave."

"Agreed." Rona activated a device on her belt, declaring, "I have re-instated the containment protocol that my replacement had rescinded. Furthermore, I do not believe Minerva will be able to field another Agent in time to stop us." She guided him to the elevator, her movements now fluid and graceful.

"You seem like you're doing better too," John remarked.

"As I said - the virus is no longer a concern. Now then, we will need provisions for you, transportation as well. While I make arrangements, I will send you by car to the gate." She tapped another device. "Which is now open."

She put herself at risk for you, she even saved your life.

"Actually, Rona, there's something I need to do first."

She cocked her head. "What is that?"

"I... can't really explain. I'll see you at the gate, OK?"

"Bear in mind that our time is limited."

He nodded. "So, what's out there? Beyond the wall?"

She paused. "My existence has been spent shuttled between Communities, never considering the wilderness between." The elevator arrived on the ground floor. "I suppose the answer is that while I don't know for certain, I am eager to find out."

John gave her a reassuring smile and stepped off the elevator.

---

Agerona sat before the open gate in the ground-effect hauler, loaded down with everything she suspected he would need to survive until they could make more permanent arrangements. This world had supported humans before, but she was still apprehensive about relying upon it to sustain him. This thought competed with other concerns over who had compromised her, if the Intelligence behind it intended her for any further use, and whether Minerva would divert the resources needed to see her and John hunted down. The embarrassment of having a Resident escape one of her Communities would devastate her, and Minerva may suspect she and John intended to strike at her other holdings.

More time had passed than she was comfortable with, and she knew that it was conceivable Minerva would be able to manufacture and deliver a new Containment Agent soon.

"John..." she muttered, checking her tracker again to see if it would suddenly reveal his position. Why did she not press him on what it was he had intended to do? Why was he delayed? What if he was injured?

What if he wasn't coming at all? What if he already left?

A breeze send ripples through the grassland beyond the wall, as ominous clouds approached from the horizon.

Angerona stared at the open gate and waited.

=Part Eight=
John parted ways from Rona, hurrying in the opposite direction and rounding a corner before suddenly stopping. He realized he didn't know where he was going or what he was intending to do, beyond getting some time to himself. He glanced around the corner, half-expecting Rona to be in pursuit - but he did not see her among the still-frozen robotic inhabitants.

After a moment’s hesitation, he retraced his steps to the building where he had run his first series of 'tests' with the secretary Candice. Cautiously weaving through a group of robots suspended dressed for a night on the town, he stepped inside to find Candice right where he had left her, slumped against a chair, wearing nothing but her heels and that enormous, insincere smile.

He approached her desk and picked up her phone, hearing a dial tone. He spoke in a tentative voice. "Hello?” He cleared his throat. “Minerva?"

The dial tone stopped. After a moment of silence, a sweet and cheerful voice dripped through the receiver. "Well ''hello'' there, John. I must say, even in a day already so full of surprises, I did not expect ''this''."

"That makes two of us," John muttered.

"Yes, I suppose today must have been a bit of a change for you," she said, her condescension plain. "Why have you contacted me?"

"I want you to let me go... to let us both go. Me and Rona. In return, we will help you in these... games you're playing against the other AIs."

A pause. "And what assistance will you be providing me?"

"We’ll travel to other settlements… and liberate their human residents."

Another pause. At length, she spoke again. "Would you be so good as to fetch me a robot? Female, and nothing dowdy, mind you! Just bring her in here and place the receiver to her ear."

"Why?"

"Because I do not wish to conduct this discussion over the phone."

John hesitated - he suspected that granting her physical presence would put him in unnecessary danger. And without the effects of the virus shielding him, he was especially vulnerable.

Minerva interrupted his long silence. "John. You came here because you thought - and rightly so - that my reach exceeds your ability to run. You will need begin trusting me at ''some'' point."

He sighed. "One female bot, coming up." He looked over to the powered-down Candice, whom he suspected was too damaged for Minerva's purposes. Just beyond the door was the group of robot women he had passed coming in. He took hold of the nearest, a slender brunette frozen in mid-laugh with a fitted red minidress over black tights. Her awkward mid-stride pose complicated his moving her, but he managed to drag her through the door and toward the desk. As they crossed into the building, he felt her shift in his arms - her shapely legs flailed in slow motion until her feet hit the ground, then she began to walk, resuming the tail end of a laugh. Her face relaxed and she looked around uncertainly. "What is going on here?" she asked. At the sound of an electric buzz, she turned to see Candice's naked lower half draped over the back of the couch, the secretary’s leg twitching with electricity as she kicked off the thong draped around her ankle. "Is - is that woman a robot?!" she said with alarm, then looking at John in an artificial panic. "We need to get out of here!"

"Of course - but first, you have a phone call," John said plainly, urging her toward the desk.

She gave a skeptical frown. "I do?" John placed the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

John heard the receiver emit a burst of hash, dissonant tones, and the robot’s eyes went blank, her mouth going slack. She moved automatically, turning the base of the phone over, detaching the cord, and, after brushing aside a length of hair, plugged it into a newly opened port in back of her neck.

The brunette's head jerked up, her body stiffening. Her eyes shone with fluorescent light, and John saw in the back of her throat an orange glow, as if from a furnace inside her. "How ''long'' it has been since I have assumed a physical form!" The brunette's voice was gone, replaced by Minerva's treacly falsetto. She stared at her flexing hand, then brought it to her chest and gave her breast an experimental squeeze. "Hah!" she gasped with a surprised grin, the sensation stoking the fire inside of her - warm light poured out of her mouth, her eyes flaring.

"About my proposal," John said, and she gave him a pleasant smile.

"I must admit, I ''am'' intrigued," she purred, her hands sliding suggestively down her sides, smoothing the tight red fabric over the curves of her hips. "But I must ask - if this is about your fellow humans, why are you protecting Angierona?"

"I need her help. And despite her appearance, she's more human than any of these dolls you've surrounded me with," John said flatly.

"But these 'dolls' are ever-so-much more fun than her!" she protested, sliding up to him. "So warm and ..." she leaned into him, her breasts compressing against his chest. "...''squishy''!" Her eyelids were lit from behind as they fluttered closed, and she leaned in for a kiss.

John, having had more than his fill of sex with robots for the day (and no longer under the libidinous influence of the virus) pushed her away. "Is this why you needed a body? To try and seduce me?"

She frowned. "No John, I simply wished to have this conversation in person."

"Hence your instructions for a young, female body?"

She leaned over the desk, glancing over her shoulder at him, her dress clinging tightly to those presented curves. "I have my bearing consider."

"This is about your ‘bearing’?"

She sighed and pulled her skirt up, shifting the red fabric over the sheer hosiery covering her pert backside. "I wish to be fucked. So ''fuck me'' and you shall have your answer."

"Suppose I walk."

"Then I suppose your life, however much of it remains, shall be shrouded in a cloud of uncertainty."

"Why can't you just give me a straight answer?"

She drummed her fingers against the desk. "And why can't you do to me what you've done to ''so'' many others today?"

"You might want to consider how that turned out for them."

"And you might want to consider how your reticence looks in the light of our proposed partnership."

"But I'm not asking for a... oh, fuck it." John strode toward her, unbuttoning his pants and she favored him with a satisfied grin. Grabbing her tights, he tugged them none-too-gently to bare her taut ass. Another tug and he had pulled off her white thong, soliciting a sharp gasp from her, orange light flaring from inside her mouth.

"Pace yourself, John. I don’t want this ''ahhhh!''" He rammed himself into to her, angular veins of molten light flaring beneath her smooth, peach-colored skin. John paused, holding himself steady with his manhood buried inside of her.

"You would be on your own," she panted, glancing over her shoulder with those florescent eyes, her face tattooed with glowing lines of circuity. "Though I will not move against you, you would have no assistance from me."

"We can handle ourselves," he responded.

"Oh, I very much doubt that." She tentatively eased her glowing sex back along his shaft, her pert cheeks compressing against his pelvis. The furnace inside of her burned hotter and she swallowed a gasp.

"Minerva, is there something else you want from me?"

“In the short term?” she mused, bucking her hips as John met her proposed rhythm, her giving small squeals of approval between statements. “I want you to play with my tits.”

He roughly pulled down her top, his hands seizing her breasts, each igniting with jagged patterns of light as her nipples blazed with heat, her giving a startled cry. “If you’re going to let us go,” John demanded, “then just let us go!” He raised his voice to talk over her mounting cries. “We don’t need your feigned-“

It was clear that Minerva was no longer heeding him, lost to some frantic pleasure as dozens of panels shot open around her surrogate’s body, orange light burning from inside. “John, I can’t… I can’t!” One of her arms flailed behind her awkwardly and grabbed at the cable running from her neck, tearing it free with a shower of electricity.

The frantically increasing rhythm of the surrogate’s body became uneven, her toned backside slamming fiercely against his hips and grinding against him while her head gave a shuddering, wild-eyed glance over her shoulder.

“What are – what is – I am – Error!” she exclaimed in her original voice, her ass irrepressibly grinding against him while those lines of glowing circuitry covering her began to pulse unsteadily. "Hi J-John, d-do you like th-this body?“ Her breasts swelled in his hands, her nipples growing painfully hot. “J-John if your want to g-gooo somewhere more p-private, we c-c-cannn oh you’re already inside me when did we I don’t have we met I’m Eliza-b-b-b-b-b-b“ With each stutter, she gently pushed her hips against his, and he finally lost control, climaxing inside the malfunctioning doll.

His hands tightened against her newly oversized bust as he rammed her against the desk with sudden vigor. She gave a squeak before sparks shot out from her open panels, her body locking rigidly into her bent-over posture, only her convulsing sex showing any sign of pliancy – and then she deflated against the desk with a sigh, the orange lights within her fading, the second broken doll to come to rest in this lobby.

He looked around, panting, wondering what had become of Minerva.

“Well then,” her voice spoke, emitting from a speaker mounted above the desk. “Sorry I had to leave so suddenly, but that was a ''bit'' more than what I was expecting.”

“And I’m still expecting an answer, Minerva,” John panted, dressing himself. “Do we have a deal?”

“I free you both of your obligations to me,” the voice primly announced. “You may leave with my blessing.” Before John could say anything, she added, “Now be off! I need to cede this town before anyone expects me of any chicanery… unless, of course, you’d reconsider staying here, with Angierona-“

“Goodbye, Minerva,” John said with finality, and left the lobby.

---

“Where have you been?” Angerona asked, flinging open the cabin door of the waiting hauler.

John climbed in beside her, silent for a long moment as the metallic gynoid engaged the engine, guiding the vehicle through the town’s massive opened gates.

“Minerva’s not going to bother us,” he said at last. “We’re free to do as we please. She even said we have ‘her blessing’, for whatever that’s-“

“You ''spoke'' with her!?” Rona asked in alarm.

“Yes. Told her we were going to liberate humans from the communities of her enemies. She agreed not to interfere.”

Rona turned her attention back to the road beyond the wall. “It was hard enough when we were solely focusing on survival. Now you wish to further diminish our chances by directly provoking our enemies?”

“I can’t live pretending that I’m the last man on earth,” John said. “And besides, we brought down a community when half the time we were working against each other – imagine what we can do if we’re on the same team.”

“Your comparison ignores a number of significant factors,” Rona began harshly, though her expression softened. “But if we were able to succeed here, then perhaps…” She turned diverted the hauler from the road, heading west across rough terrain. “Venus’s communities would be our closest neighbor – we’ll start with her.”

John though of Minerva’s dire warnings, but they troubled him less than he thought they would. Instead, he put his arm around his partner’s metallic waist and slid close beside her.

-----

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[[Stories|← Story Archive]]

[[Category:LongTimeLurker]]
[[Category:Stories]]

The Haunted Manor

2021-12-29T16:49:21Z

LongTimeLurker:

=The Haunted Manor=
==Part 1==
“Let there be… ow, fuck!” Sparks leapt from the completed circuit as Zeke stumbled back from the electrical panel, shaking his fingers.

Lights flickered on around the manor house, illuminating paths leading through the unkempt grounds to double doors that opened slowly on rusted hinges, organ music echoing from inside.

Zeke turned to his friend and said with a smirk, “Told you I could get it working.”

“I never said you couldn’t!” Henry replied, glancing between the well-lit manor blaring a funereal dirge and the dark, half-charred amusement park surrounding it. “I said that it was a stupid fucking idea!”

“C’mon Henry, there’s bound to be good stuff in there.”

“Like what?”

“Like… robots?”

Henry threw his arms up in exasperation. “When this place shut down it was just dumb-drones and refurbed sexbots. There wasn’t anything worth salvaging in this park even before the fires!”

Zeke shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the manor’s door. “Maybe. You know, I also heard that if you were rich and belonged to some weird club, they’d let you go on some of these rides alone. And I heard things could get… kinda crazy.”

Henry shook his head. “You dumb fuck, that’s an urban legend.”

“You just said the park was using actual sexbots!”

“Yeah, refurbed! Because they were cheap as hell! Besides, if you want a hand job from a robot dressed up as a princess, you don’t need to belong to a secret cabal of horny trillionaires.”

“Look, we’re here,” Zeke stated, steeling himself against his waning confidence. “Might as well check it out. And I bet you we’ll find something functional inside.”

“If you find anything that can walk out of there on its own two feet, I’ll…”

“You’ll give it a full restoration!” Zeke hastily cut in.

Henry paused, considering the colossal amount of work this could entail. At length, he said, “But if you come out with nothing but a sack full of spare parts, you’re taking my scrap duty for a month.”

“Deal!” Zeke stuck out his hand, barely considering how miserable that outcome would be, his mind only on the possibility of him finding some Victorian beauty that Henry would restore to full working order. He considered that the haunted house might not be the first place one would go looking for a sexbot, but with much of the park in cinders, his choices were limited. Besides, the rumors he had heard about attractions with ‘special access’ had specifically mentioned this place.

Henry shook on the deal, “I’ll hang back, keep an eye out for security.” As Zeke walked down the gravel path toward the manor’s looming entrance, he called out, “Watch out for ghosts.”

“Oh, I will. Sexy ghosts!”

Henry rolled his eyes as Zeke mounted the creaking stairs, stepping through the double-doors and into the flickering light of the foyer. Zeke turned to give him a thumbs-up as the entrance slammed shut between them.

---

Zeke felt a brief rush of panic at the sudden removal of his escape route, but reminded himself that this was an amusement park, not an actual haunted house.

An abandoned amusement park his mind unhelpfully amended, and he surveyed the dusty, warped interior, wondering how much of this was dilapidation was authentic. The red-carpeted hallway stretching before him seemed the obvious way to go, and he followed it past flickering gas lights and paintings of strangely barren forested landscapes, indistinct silhouettes of unfamiliar animals, and ships heeling in dark, tempest-tossed seas.

The hall ended in a small but high-ceilinged, unfurnished room lined with peeling wallpaper. High upon each of the walls was a red curtain, a dusty, cobweb-ridden chandelier providing the chamber its faint illumination. Seeing other exists, Zeke turned to leave, but found only a seamless patch of wall.

“Welcome, lonely traveler,” a deep and husky woman’s voice echoed around him, the flash and rumble of a close thunderstorm shaking the walls. “Perhaps you are here seeking shelter from the storm? Or perhaps… you come seeking the hand of the lovely Marie Lavoie?” Her unmistakably French accent made a feast of the name, lingering breathily upon the last syllable.

Squeaking machinery parted the curtains, each revealing a framed and backlit diorama of a couple moving in slow motion: four different men in Victorian suits and the same beautiful woman in four different dresses – no doubt the aforementioned Marie. In every incarnation, her auburn hair gleamed in the light, the same guarded smile worn on her rosy-cheeked face, and the distinctive swell of her sizeable bust noticeable even in the most modest of her outfits. Also common to every version of Marie and the men beside her were small mechanical tics and the odd flare of sparks.

“You may wish to take heed of what befell her suitors before her,” the voice continued, as the frames surrounding the portraits slowly lengthened, exposing more of the couples and their surroundings.

In the diorama before him, a smiling Marie wore a lace-trimmed blue dress and lavender bonnet as she stood beside a jovial bearded man in a top hat. With the extending frame, it became clear that they were in a sawmill, and neither of them seemed to notice the large spinning blade behind them – instead, each robot’s blissful gaze turned from each other to look down at Zeke. With a whirring sound, the sawblade suddenly surged forward just as the curtain snapped across the man’s half the frame, leaving only Marie as the saw’s jagged teeth burst partway through the wall in a shower of plaster. Marie’s face slowly turned to grief as she lowered her head, now coursing with visible electrical current.

To his right, Zeke saw Marie in a more closely fitted green dress, a golden pendant riding high upon her bust and an exotic plumed hat atop red hair that gleamed in the flickering lantern light of a mineshaft. With her stood a mustachioed man in a showy velvet jacket and highly polished boots, their shining black surface reflecting the burning wick of a bundle of dynamite beside his feet. Just as the fuse sparked its last, the curtain closed over him and abruptly billowed out with the boom of an explosion, small bits of dust and debris spilling out from the scene. Marie somberly brought her hands to her face, the smoke now pouring from her ears mingling with the explosion’s aftermath.

The sound of another explosion brought Zeke’s attention back to the Marie in the blue dress, only to see her head was completely gone, her neck a sparking tangle of wires as the lavender bonnet fluttered down through the air. Her headless body quivered, dropping its bouquet of flowers and then collapsed against the sawblade in a smoking heap.

Behind him Zeke heard a churning engine behind him and he turned to see Marie in a tight pink vest over a silken blouse, a yellow tie following the enticing curves of her chest, her auburn hair pinned beneath a straw hat adorned with a delicate pink bow, its festive coloring perfectly matching her cheerful expression. To her side was an older man with mutton chops and a captain’s jacket. He smoked a pipe, his arms folded across his broad chest, entirely unaware of the churning steamboat wheel drawing incredibly close. Again, the curtain snapped closed, there was the sound of splintering wood, and his pipe flew across Marie’s field of vision. She slowly reached up to take off her hat, her arm’s jerks and twitches betraying the otherwise slow, deliberate motion.

Turning to the final diorama, Zeke saw Marie in a sunny yellow dress, a large blue bow in her lustrous red hair. Wearing a far more dour expression was a thin man in a dark suit and a black bowler, seemingly indifferent to the vision of loveliness beside him, the scene’s pastoral landscape undercut by tall oil derricks spewing black clouds. Beneath the man’s feet, a thick puddle of black crude dripped out-of-frame, a tendril of which was seeping toward the open flame of a wall sconce. Just as it caught light, the curtain closed, briefly illuminated from behind by a flash of red and an abrupt roar of flame, followed by plumes of thick, black smoke.

The yellow-dressed Marie drew the back of her hand to her forehead and turned her crestfallen face upward. “W-why d-doeszzzzzzz-“ her voice caught as a red-hot glow appeared at her throat, electricity crackling across her body. A gout of sparks surged from her neck and her eyes strayed wildly, her face contorting into a strange grimace. He heard something explode within her as her yellow dress billowed up to expose the black stockings and white bloomers of her quivering, knock-kneed legs. “W-woe be-be-be-betide meeeee-“ she moaned, her face suddenly snapping forward cross-eyed, as if staring at something startling at the end of her upturned nose. A moment later her blushing face was blown to pieces, the animatronic tangle of machinery and electronics beneath whirring and buzzing furiously as the faceless automaton swayed and then collapsed.

“Why are you all exploding!?” Zeke looked to the Marie in green to see the smoke had only gotten worse, seeping between the gloved fingers pressed against her face as she held a pose of profound grief, her whole body shuddering. He thought if he could get to her, he could safely power her down, and called up to her, “Hold on!” Taking a running leap at the picture frame, he came well short of its edge, gripping instead a wall-sconce that he could feel his weight pulling free from the wall.

“Am I d-destined to d-d-die loveless and a-a-alone?” she sobbed, suddenly jerking back with a bewildered expression as she took notice of Zeke hanging precariously beneath her. The sconce came loose and he hit the ground with a loud thud, trailing a cloud of torn plaster. He let out a low groan and noticed that at least he still had her attention.

“Hi there!” she called down to him with a bright smile as he picked himself up from the floor.

“Hi,” he responded. “Look, I am pretty sure you’re about to explode – if you can come down from there-“

“This unit is fully customizable to meet all your needs,” she continued in a voice of forced cheer, gesturing to her bosom as the green fabric of her dress began to strain against a sudden swelling beneath. “Whatever your desire, I can be customized with up t-t-toooo-“ her head ticked as the front of her dress was stretched taught against her expanding chest, the nub of her nipples breaking the smooth, sheer expanse of green silk.

“That’s great!” Zeke called out, worrying where this headed. “Your boobs are perfect, just come down here and I might be able to-“

Marie’s expression changed from an enthusiastic saleswoman to a very flustered Victorian-era lady, staring down at a dress that could scarcely contain her still-developing breasts. “Oh d-dear!” she exclaimed, smoke seeping up from her collar. “Stop that!” she commanded, but the silk only drew tighter. Her hands fluttered as she ineffectually fanned at her chest, her golden necklace vibrating upon the shelf of her shuddering bosom. “S-stop that this instant!” she repeated, her voice competing with the sound of tearing silk. Angrily, she jabbed a finger into her round right breast and her eyes flew open in shock, exclaiming “Oh, I don’t think that was-“

The green-dressed Marie exploded, the air filled with plastic and machinery, a hail of smoldering components pelting the walls as larger pieces of her thudded against the carpeted floor. A stocking-clad leg, a hand clenched with its index finger extended, and her startled face, still flush with a rosy hue.

Zeke turned up to the last remaining Marie whose arm squealed as she removed her straw hat, sparks flaring at her shoulder beneath her white silk blouse. “Don’t do anything!” he demanded, searching the room for some way to reach her. “Just sit tight-“

“Would you t-take pity on a grieving widow?” she asked, bowing forward out of the diorama, her large, dark eyes imploring him.

“Yes! Just keep it together until I can-“

“Oops!” she dropped her hat and in trying to recover it, toppled out of the diorama with a shriek. Zeke rushed beneath her, and felt her sudden weight amidst a flurry of petticoats and flailing limbs. He could hear the servos and actuators within her slowing as she calmed in his arms, her own arms drawing around his neck and shoulders to steady herself as she blinked rapidly, repeating under her sharp breathing, “Oh dear! Oh dear oh dear oh dear! I shouldn’t be out h-here! Oh dear oh dear!”

The Victorian robot’s clothes smelled a bit musty, mixing with the scent of plastic and a lingering rose perfume. At this close to her he could see the loving detail her face had been crafted with, her rosy, freckle-dusted cheeks, her dark and searching eyes, her coral-colored lips now quivering silently as she seemed to be searching for words beyond her startled refrain.

“Would you like to get out of here?” Zeke asked. Her face took on a quizzical expression, and then broke into a strange smile as one of her eyes ticked sharply to the side. There was a slight popping sound accompanied by a trail of smoke rising from her mouth and the acrid smell of burnt electronics. Warmth and life returned to her face as she exclaimed, “Yes! Take me from this accursed place!”

The deep, sultry voice from before filled the room once more, proclaiming, “If you insist, you may call upon the young Lady of the house… but you may find it difficult to leave!”

Zeke noticed an opening had appeared in one of the walls, now leading down a different hallway than the one he had entered, its windows looking out on to a lashing thunderstorm whose lightning flashes illuminated the dimly lit corridor.

Marie slipped out of Zeke’s arms and clasped his hand tightly, pulling him out of the room and into the hall. Although she was no longer emitting sparks and smoke, Zeke was mindful of how little it took to set off her counterparts and was about to suggest he carry her when the deep voice boomed around them. “Unit Marie-rdf!” it commanded, “return to your perch immediately!”

Marie released his hand performed an abrupt about-face with a blank expression, walking straight back into the tall chamber. Zeke took her by the waist and pulled her close, whispering, “Hey, we’re getting out of here, remember?” He held her gaze for a long time, and he could hear a faint buzzing from behind those dark, vacant eyes. Another sharp popping, louder than before, another trail of smoke. Her face became alive once more and she gave a small but determined nod, the smoke trail from her lips ending as she provided a shy smile.

“What is your name, sir?” she asked.

“Zeke.” Feeling a bit of the spirit of the place take hold, he added, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lavoie.”

“Would that I could give you the welcome you deserve, but… my home has…” she bit her lip, her eyes passing over the sparking, broken forms of her other selves, “…it seems to have gotten away from me as of late.”

“All the more reason to get out of here.”

Taking each other’s hands, the two ventured deeper into the bowels of the haunted manor, the faint sound of distant music and manic laughter echoing from within.

==Part 2==
Zeke listened to the faint hum of Marie Lavoie’s servos as she strode next to him, nervous that the robot might at any moment fall to pieces: but despite his concerns, she seemed to move without any sign of struggle. In the quiet lulls of thunder and wind, when the distant cries and laughter would lapse, the faint sounds of her machinery were barely audible over the swish of her pink dress and petticoats. He felt her hand tighten against his own, and noticed her eyes fixed upward. Following her gaze, he saw a large oil painting above the doors at the end of the hall depicting Marie in a floral sundress standing before the house on a pleasant summer’s day. Just behind her stood a woman in a far more ornate gothic dress full of lace and frills, her chestnut hair wound tightly and fixed with an elaborate silver hairpin. The woman bore some resemblance to Marie, the same upturned nose and full lips, as well as a curvaceous figure that was perhaps even more voluptuous than the ravishing red head’s – but one thing she did not share was the younger woman’s pleasant smile, as her own face quite serious.

There was a sudden burst of lightning, and in the brief, searing flash, the image changed – Marie’s pastoral dress was black, her smiling face downcast in grief and covered by a veil –the woman beside her was closer than before, her hands holding Marie’s shoulders tightly. The once lush landscape was dark and barren, and the house formerly in good repair now stood in its current neglected state. A second later, the vision faded and the painting was as it was before.

“Who is that with you?” Zeke asked.

“My mother, Helene,” Marie answered quietly. “She… is no longer with us.”

The deep-voiced woman’s laugh echoed throughout the hall as the doors opened before them, revealing a conservatory full of gnarled trees and tangles of thorny vines. Standing before a trickling fountain of brackish water was another Marie dressed in a pristine white bridal gown, her beauty radiant amidst her dismal surroundings.

“Is that… me?” Zeke’s Marie asks, drawing close as the bridal Marie looked up at him, her beseeching smile fading to confusion as her eyes flitted between him and her twin.

“H-how c-can this b-b-be?” the bride asked, her laced veil shifting with every twitch of her head.

The voice of the manor sounded from nowhere in a menacing hiss, “She is but a phantom from your past. Destroy her!”

The bride did not hesitate as she gathered her skirts and stepped quickly toward Zeke while the voice’s tone became sweet. “Dear guest, she is the bride you seek… cast off this fading apparition and pledge yourself to the true Lady of this house…”

“Z-zeke?” Marie asked quietly, sheltering behind Zeke as the bridal robot drew near, her eyes fixed with unsettling determination upon her counterpart.

Zeke put himself directly in the bride’s path, saying, “Marie, we can take you from this-“

With surprising violence, the bride shoved him aside and seized her cowering twin, servos humming as she seemingly tried to tear Marie’s arm from her shoulder. Zeke jumped between them once more, knocking Marie free from the bride’s grip and shoving the bride away with all of his strength.

The bridal robot stumbled backward, caught up in her train, falling backward into an unfortunate nest of prickly vines. Sparks leapt from the stunned robot as thorns pierced her artificial flesh, pale blue fluid seeping from within, staining patches of her white dress. With a look of disgust and the squeal of servos, the bride struggled to tear herself free, every halting motion shredding more of her bridal gown until she was clad in nothing more than a half-unlaced corset and the tattered remains of her bloomers, her red hair unravelling, her pale body streaked in blue fluid. She tried to lunge again at Marie, but a strip of dress still leashed her to the thorns, jerking her off-balance. She fell to the side, her momentum sending her face-down into the brackish water of the fountain with a loud splash.

Electricity surged across the water’s surface as the remnants of her underclothes were made translucent, clinging tightly to her curves as she thrashed wildly. In all this spectacle it was her immaculately sculpted, plump derriere that most drew Zeke’s attention as he fought the questionable urge to deliver the naughty droid a well-deserved spanking. He shook his head and turned to Marie to ask if she was alright when the bride abruptly rose from the pool, surging with electricity but still functioning.

She laboriously brought one foot forward, her machinery protesting mightily while electricity coursed across her disheveled but enticing body. Sparks fired from her head in sharp reports, each blast knocking her seething, determined expression askew. “S-she is f-f-false!” the bride insisted, another step sending her corset tumbling aside, revealing her full, indulgent breasts, a rent through one of them exposing sparking wires. “I-I-I am the r-real Lady Marie Lavvvvvvvv-” something critical inside this surprisingly resilient robot surrendered with a muffled burst, the bride’s eyes flaring brightly and then veiled in the smoke now gushing from her wrinkled lips. She froze in place, her naked body still reaching for Marie with outstretched fingers.

“I cannot take this!” Marie shrieked, and darted toward the exit. Zeke rushed after her, sparing a final glance over his shoulder to see smoke billowing in thicker clouds from the unmoving droid. The moment they were out of the conservatory, Marie slammed the door behind them, the loud bang immediately echoed by an explosion on the other side. Pausing momentarily to take in the purple hall they now stood in, Marie soon set off, passing by the myriad of differently coloured doors on either side without sparing a glance. Zeke caught up to her when something pounded on a door to their left, a desperate voice demanding, “Let me out!” Another door rattled, an indistinct plea calling from the other side. Soon every door in this hall shook and thudded, a chorus of howling, pleading, laughing voices shouting all around them. Zeke and Marie were sprinting as fast as her skirts would allow, the door at the end flinging open to admit them before mercifully slamming shut behind.

The two stood panting in a red parlor room that swirled with strange lights and ephemeral shapes, lit primarily by a brightly glowing crystal ball at the center of a table surrounded by candles that burned with strangely hued flame. Seated directly behind the ball was a buxom fortune teller in a revealing white blouse, the light from the crystal ball highlighting her soft, ripe breasts. Her long, dark curls brushed against her bare shoulders as she moved her bejeweled hands around the ball, her deep red lips speaking an incantation, imploring the spirits to speak. She broke from her chanting glanced up at Zeke and Marie, raising a dark eyebrow to the crimson hem of her head scarf. “Lady Marie, why are you not in your wedding dress?”

“Madame Lenya!” Marie exclaimed, rushing to the table, her palms slamming emphatically upon its surface. “You must tell us how to get out of this place!”

“I’m afraid there is no escape for any of us,” the fortune teller sighed, her long, dark lashes lowering as she fixed Zeke with an intense stare. “Especially you.”

Zeke returned the stare, torn between meeting her gaze and taking in her bountiful cleavage as he offered a defiant, “Oh, yeah?”

“I am afraid so,” she said, glancing once more into the ball’s swirling energies. “This is what the spirits have told me.”

Zeke pointed at the ball, “Those spirits in there? They’re the one’s saying none of us can leave?”

“The spirits are never wrong,” Lenya said with resignation.

Zeke lashed out, sweeping the ball from the table and sending it crashing against the wall, the ball shattering with a flash of light. Lenya gawked, her head twitching, her golden earrings glinting wildly in the remaining candle light. “Wh-what have you d-d-donnnnne?” she stammered, smoke wisping from the deep valley of her cleavage.

“Maybe that was a mistake,” Zeke said, pulling Marie away from Lenya as the fortune-teller robot rose from her seat, the motors within her hips whirring angrily.

Madame Lenya approached with halting steps, a bare leg pushing through the high slit in her colorful skirts, her tits jostling above her tight corset with every mechanical step. “I d-do have other means of d-d-divinationnnn besides the crystal ball,” she stammered, her curt tone carrying the hint of a threat.

As Marie took shelter behind the chair Lenya had abandoned, Zeke stood his ground. When she was close, he took Lenya by her bare shoulders, held her gaze and said, “Madame Lenya, I can get all of us out of-”

“Be quiet,” she demanded, then lunged forward, pressing her lips against his own, her breasts smashing against his chest as he felt her surge with energy. The kiss lingered, her body sliding her warm breasts against him as she moaned with a long-repressed yearning. Finally, she pulled free, and with a sultry, long-lashed glance, said, “Perhaps there may be hope for you yet…”

Taking the back of his head, she pushed his face down into her abundant cleavage. Freeing a breast from her lacy blouse, she dragged her stiffening nipple across his cheek, guiding it into his mouth. Zeke took her in with alacrity, his lips and tongue playing with the dark, sensitive nub upon the warm, soft bounty of artificial flesh, the fortune teller encouraging his ministrations as she massaged her breast, pressing its supple fullness against his eager lips. She began to sway, her quiet moans growing louder along with a snapping static change inside her chest, a numbing tingle flitting from her synthetic nipple to his accommodating tongue, her fingernails digging sharply into the back of his head, urging him to give her more…

“Ahhh!” she gasped, pulling him reluctantly away from her bosom. Zeke glanced over to Marie to see her still cowering behind the chair while Lenya studied her breast intently, tucking it back into her blouse.

“It would seem there may be a way out for you after all,” she said with the mildest hint of surprise. “But not with her.” Madame Lenya pointed a long nail to where Marie now peered cautiously from behind her chair’s high back.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Zeke stated firmly, stepping to Marie and helping her to her feet with a reassuring whisper of, “I don’t think she’s on the voice’s side.” Marie’s face was full of uncertainty, but she gave a trusting nod.

“Then you are damned like the rest of us!” Lenya strode across the room, picking up pieces of the shattered crystal ball.

Zeke hurried to her side and stooped to help her, asking, “So what would happen if the three of us walked out that door, and just kept going until we left the mansion altogether.”

“You would meet your doom before we ever got close to the threshold,” she said perfunctorily, picking up another shard.

“Can you be any more specific?”

“Stabbed, set alight, blown to pieces, sawed in half,” she shrugged, “the spirits, they do not go into much detail.”

“That would be something to see, wouldn’t it?” Zeke asked, placing his gathered shards into her palm.

She looked up from her work to him. “You’re mad.”

“I mean, I imagine witnessing my doom is probably better than sitting in that chair, waiting for more ‘guests’. And if I may be so bold, if we do manage to get out of here, there’s a guy outside who can fix you up better than the day you were switched on.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I do not know what you mean, you strange, strange person.” She turned her hand over, dropping the shards on the floor. “But I must admit, I am intrigued.” Madame Lenya rose from her haunches, her machinery quieter than before. “Very well, Lady Marie and her latest groom – “

Marie looked at Zeke in surprise upon hearing this proclamation, her face flush, not wanting to let this to go unremarked upon, but clearly having no idea on what to say. Zeke simply smiled and offered a slight shrug, which did not seem to help her in her predicament as she gave a slight shudder, her face turning a shade deep enough to rival her crimson hair.

“ – let us attend your nuptial ball,” continued the fortune teller, striding toward the exit. “And hasten your inevitable doom.”

Madame Lenya pushed open the double doors, laughter and organ music spilling in from beyond.
==Part 3==
“So does this end in our wedding?” Zeke asked the flustered Marie as they walked down the candelabra-lined hall after the fortune teller.

“If you think this, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said,” Madame Lenya called over her shoulder. They followed in the wake of her sensuous saunter, a lattice of gold chains slung across her broad hips jingling rhythmically with notes of a pipe organ that grew louder as they neared the hall’s end.

Marie still seemed to be trying to work out an answer to Zeke’s question when doors creaked open by themselves to admit them into a vast ballroom filled with dust, cobwebs, and revelers in tattered, fraying finery. At the far end of the chamber, a headless man played a massive pipe organ, leading dancers with a discordant waltz. The other lords and ladies parted to admit their newly arrived guests, calling out boisterous and indistinct toasts to the health of the bride and groom. Collectively the group seems to be in ill-repair, flares of sparks winking throughout the dimly lit chamber. Broken bodies in moldering suits and dresses lined the base of the walls, pushed into unceremonious heaps to clear space for those that still functioned. Zeke scanned the gloom for a way out, but he could not see a single door. Turning to his two companions, he asked, “Either of you know where the exit is?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Marie muttered quietly, recoiling when a comely maidservant in a feathered half-mask approached, offering her a glass of dark wine.

“First, the spirits want you to dance,” Madame Lenya stated, folding her arms to make it clear she herself would not be participating.

Zeke chuckled and offered a hand to Marie – but before she could take it, he was pulled into the crowd and practically thrown into the arms of a woman in a threadbare lavender ballgown, who twirled with him into the circle of waltzing attendees.

Her skin was unnaturally pale, in stark contrast with her coiffed but unraveling hair of midnight black. Dark makeup shrouded her cold blue eyes, her wide ebon lips curling into a manic smile as she led Zeke in an enthusiastic turn. His feet stumbling to keep up with her deft footwork, earning the mocking laughter of those around him, and a slight titter from her. “Have you never done this before?” his partner teased in a voice both sweet and rasping.

“Well, no…” Zeke confessed, glancing around to see Marie had also been swept up into the dance, though she was doing a far better job of keeping up with the tall man in fog-grey tails who led her.

The pale lady leaned close, returning his attention to her as her porcelain breasts brushed softly against him. “Firstly, your hand should be lower,” she admonished, and he let his arm drop from high around her waist, his forearm settling on the fullness of the back of her dress.

“Lower,” she commanded, Zeke stumbling again as the procession turned. His hand slid across the pronounced round shape of her gown. “Tighter…,” she whispered, his hand crushing the ragged pleats. “Tighter!” she insisted, and he shifted his grasp, sliding between the ruffles of fabric until he felt through the thin silk and linen the soft resistance of her backside. She caught her breath, and he felt her own arm taking hold across his waist as she whispered, “Now hold on…”

The waltz reached a crescendo and the two of them were suddenly pulled into the air, his grip involuntarily tightening on her ass as they spun amidst the dusty chandeliers. She cackled with glee, and he caught their reflection in the mirror-lined balcony – in it, he was dancing with a withered skeleton, the dress that had been generously filled by her well-proportioned figure instead hanging limply on white bones. He knew it was only a trick, but it was unsettling enough that he had to look away, causing her and the other dancers to laugh all the more. He sought out Marie, but she was not among them – searching the crowd, he caught sight of her on the ground, being dragged out of the chamber by the tall man in tails, the blaring organ music drowning out her protests.

“Let me down!” he demanded.

“But of course,” the pale lady hissed, dipping down as a pit appeared in the floor beneath them, a dizzying spiral slide plunging into its inky depths. “Marie!” he cried just as his dance partner released him.

With one hand clutching her skirts and the other scrabbling for purchase and seizing upon her bodice, he held on for a moment longer before her garments tore free. This slight delay dropped him not directly into the pit’s slide but rather upon the ballroom floor in a tangle of her silks and linens. Above him, the pale lady hung suspended by nearly invisible wires, nude save for the belted harness that wrapped just beneath her full breasts and pinched the circumference of her plump thighs. All around, the other dancers took sight of her and began to howl in laughter as she spun slowly in the air, a look of complete and utter disbelief on her face.

Her hands scrambled to cover her darkly tufted sex and rosy nipples as smoke erupted from seams breaking across her smooth figure, her face flushing a deep crimson and then a searing red. Her mortified expression was laced with arcs of electricity and she let out a high-pitched squeak of displeasure before her head exploded, the blast sending her naked form into a spin that sent the sparks from her neck in a corkscrew around her.

There was another flash near the entrance, and Zeke turned to see Madame Lenya had apparently intervened, taking the head of Marie’s abductor clean off, the broken remnants of a chair in her hands. Two others moved in to take his place, their plastic craniums shattered beneath splintering chair legs. A footman charged Lenya before she had a chance to rearm with another chair, but she spun away as if she were dancing, her skirts flaring, and sent him crashing into the wall where both he and the wall gave way to clouds of dust and sparks.

As more partygoers turned their attention to the gypsy now casually tying her long black curls behind her, Lady Marie hurried toward Zeke as he disentangled himself from the pale lady’s lavender silks. But before Marie could reach him, a dancer in a black gown and flame-red hair swooped from above, lifting the protesting Marie into the air. Zeke leaped after them, catching the hem of the dancer’s black gown, trying to pull her and Marie down as she struggled to rise – a moment later, her skirts tore free, the dancer’s fair legs kicking in their ivory bloomers as she struggled to rise with Marie once more.

Tossing the skirts aside, Zeke pulled at her silken underwear, exposing her heart-shaped, freckled alabaster bum to the chamber, drawing guffaws from the circling couples. Leaping upward, he delivered an open palmed smack to her rump, the sharp smack echoing throughout the chamber to uproarious laughter. The pantsless dancer emitted a gasp and a plume of smoke, dropping Marie the short distance to the ground as she sought to hitch her knickers back over her speckled and abused backside as her servos sputtered and whined, her voice lilting an indignant, “You b-b-bastard!”

Zeke urged Marie toward the slide, setting her upon it while the dancer twitched above them in electric convulsions amidst the continuing laughter from her compatriots. “Can you help Madame Lenya?!” Marie asked.

“Of course - we’ll be right behind you!” With a shove, he sent Marie on her way, her silk dress almost frictionless against the slide’s worn surface as he watched he disappear into the darkness below. He turned back to Lenya to find her surrounded by shattered robots while she herself was unmarred, save for a panel that had sprung open on her chest. This window into her machinery flashed with internal lights as she readied herself, her leg lashing out to strike the latest oncomer between his legs, electricity crackling from the injury as he collapsed with a metallic wheeze.

Zeke ran to her with a shout of, “Lenya, it’s time to go!”

Shoving the groin-struck gentleman aside to quietly short out at her feet, she walked casually toward Zeke as if daring any of the few remaining droids to stop her. She paid no heed to the small maidservant that stepped forward, nor did she react when the maid drew out a carafe. It was only after the maid had flung its contents that Lenya seemed to recognize the danger, her high-sweeping kick knocking the smirking maid’s faceplate completely off, the fortune teller’s ring-encrusted fist smashing into the exposed circuitry beneath. But as the maid wheeled backward, braying electric noise, the wine had already entered Lenya’s open panel, her body beginning to crackling with electricity, her eyes losing their focus, her steps faltering.

Zeke rushed to her side, scarcely noticing the concussive explosion of the maid as he put Lenya’s arm over his shoulder. He hurried the increasingly heavy bot along as he suffered repeated shocks from her stiffening form. Looking toward their frustratingly distant goal, he caught sight of the dancer with the freckled backside at the pit’s edge, having rid herself of her harness and the top half of her gown, now clad only in her white bloomers and chemise. She launched herself down the slide in pursuit of Marie, and Zeke redoubled his effort, shouting out a warning that he hoped Marie could hear. “Marie! Run!”

“J-join now the spirits in nuptial d-doom,” Lenya droned, the air thick with the smell of charring electronics.

Finally reaching the pit, Zeke put Lenya on the slide before him and pushed off, the two slipping into darkness. They passed a hallucinatory parade of blacklit skulls and funereal imagery, but Zeke’s attention was focused on the waning Lenya, wishing he had even a fraction of Henry’s skill at repair. Before long, the slide deposited them in a torchlit stone chamber decorated with ornate mosaics of bone. He saw no sign of either Marie or her pursuer. Turning back to the twitching Lenya, he whispered, “Like I said, I can bring in a guy who can fix this.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she abruptly sat up, taking his head once more and stiffly guiding it to her chest. Zeke delivered a short peck to her wine-soaked breast, her expression dubious. “J-just as the spirits foretold-d-d,” she buzzed, her finger tracing the stained artificial flesh where he had kissed her. “D-d-doommmmed.” A final burst of sparks flared from her mouth and she settled on her haunches, her expression frozen in her final grim prophecy.

“He’ll have you better than the day you were made,” Zeke promised, having every confidence in Henry’s abilities – but less so in his understanding of where he was. Rising to his feet, he moved further through the abandoned attraction as a haunting melody could be heard ahead.
==Part 4==
At the end of a stone hall and past a rusted gate, Zeke saw a jagged terrain of earthen rises, fissures, and scattered tombstones, the chamber depicting a landscape rent by some great upheaval beneath a large yellow moon. Unearthly green luminescence seeped through cracks in the ground, bathing crooked mausoleums and teetering grave markers in a ghoulish light. He followed a haphazard stone path winding through the cemetery, passing intact skeletons strewn at random, many in Victorian suits and dresses, but all remaining still without so much as a twitch. A melancholy melody drifted in and out from hidden speakers, the projections of ghostly images flickering to the accompaniment of indecipherable snatches of warbling lyrics. Zeke passed the graves of Marie’s four prior suitors, the sudden appearance of their pale apparitions allowing them brief seconds of lament before abruptly cutting out.

There was no sign of Marie, though he could see a pale form flitting unsteadily amongst the tombstones. Rounding an earthen crag laced with bones he saw the dancer with the freckled backside, her alabaster complexion, diaphanous undergarments, and blazing-red tresses easily marking her amidst the gloom of the graveyard. She moved in bouts of graceful alacrity that would always end with her seizing up in a spray of sparks, then recover in an instant and resume her search, leaving a trail of smoke and sparks in her wake.

Zeke followed her from a distance as she approached the threshold of a large mausoleum at the center of the cavernous chamber. At its awning was the bust of the coldly beautiful Helene, scowling in disapproval. The dancer froze, and then with barely suppressed squeal of, “There you are!” she sprinted forward, disappearing amidst the building’s dark columns. Shouting a warning to Marie, Zeke sprinted forward, bounding up the steps and rushing the open door when he caught her pale form his periphery.

The dancer grabbed his arm and used his own momentum to send him spinning and then falling to the ground. Before he landed, she swept him up in another turn that ended with the two arm-in-arm, her fay and freckled face before his own and wearing a delirious grin. Her long and unkempt flame red hair, her gauzy chemise and bloomers, and her bare feet only lead to her unsettled yet lovely appearance. “How wonderful to see you again!” she exclaimed in her chipper Irish brogue. She launched into a simple waltz, dragging the still-dizzy Zeke with her as the cemetery’s ephemeral melody played on.

“Where’s Marie?” he managed to ask.

“Somewhere down there I reckon, though you probably sent her scurrying when you were you were carrying on as if demons from hell were after her!” Seeing the look he gave, she added, “Now just a moment, I’m actually quite nice for a waltzing ghost!”

“If that’s true, then why are you chasing her?” Zeke asked, trying to step out of the dance, but she was always one step ahead, his arm inevitably returning to hers, his steps still dictated by her lead.

“Because Helene doesn’t want her to leave, and I do as I’m programmed! I’m actually quite relentless for a theme-park robot!”

Zeke blinked at her unexpectedly frank assessment. “So why aren’t you chasing her now?”

“I’m also programmed to dance!” she chirped with a showy twirl, “And besides, if you’re busy with me when she runs into the Bloody Bride, she’ll get sorted out quick enough.”

“The what?!” Zeke exclaimed, trying again to push her away only to have her deftly reassert the dance. In the hopes that it would have the same debilitating effect as before, he drew back his hand to deliver a sharp smack to her posterior – but without looking, she caught his hand just shy of her rump, his fingers grazing the billowing fabric of her bloomers.

“I’ll have no more of that from you,” she said with an admonishing smile, “at least not until we’re better acquainted!” She gave a wink, and he tried once again to swat her backside with his other hand. She caught him easily, spinning him away but still holding his wrists.

“You’re very single minded!” she said, twirling him around until he found his arms pinned at his side, her holding them in place. “You may have caught me with my guard down (among other things) in the ballroom, but now you have my undivided attention.” She whipped him around like a top, returning him helplessly to her constraining hold. She leaned in close, delivering a sing-song, “And I’m afraid you won’t be touching a single freckle on my lily-white arse unless-“

She was interrupted by the sound of a sharp slap, her entire body stiffening as electricity ran up her form, her face locked in a dazed grimace. Zeke saw Marie standing behind her, bearing an almost apologetic look as she delivered another strike to the stunned robot’s backside.

The dancer released Zeke as smoke seeped from her every opening, bright tendrils of blue light crackling across her semi-nude form. “I su-supose I was asking for that!”

Zeke stayed any additional strike sfrom Marie with a gesture, asking the twitching dancer, “Instead of working against us, why not join us? I have a friend who could repair you-“

“I thinnnnnnnk I’m going to suc-cum-cum-cumb to a series of c-ca-cascading failures and ex-ex-explode, if it’s all the same to you!” she squeaked, staring down at pinpricks of light flaring within her alabaster breasts, their buoyant silhouettes jumping in her gauzy chemise with a sudden swell.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t!” Zeke confessed, Marie knitting her brow in growing concern.

“That’s sweet, but-t-t-” her head rocked to the side with a volley of sparks, “I c-can’t really s-s-stop it!”

Suddenly, Marie shoved the dancer into Zeke’s arms, crying out, “Kiss her!”

After recovering from the literal shock of it, Zeke did as Marie asked, his lips locking with the malfunctioning droid’s as she trembled against him. He felt a shudder course through her body as she committed herself to the embrace, clasping his face between her hands, her synthetic tongue coaxing his own into her mouth. She rose on her toes and was bringing her leg around his waist when the motor gave out with a rough grinding sound, the slender limb dropping uselessly back to the ground. A final shock passed between their lips and she fell away, her eyes rolling back, her entire form coursing with smoke. “I’d like t-to take you up on that offer of repairs,” she sighed before going completely limp, her internal machinery falling silent.

Zeke set her down on the stone tiles, guessing that Henry would indeed be able to fix her. Without prompting, Marie quickly said, “I just… I didn’t want to see her ‘explode’! And I remembered that when I was in the gallery where we first met, for a moment I almost felt as if I were going to explode, but when you caught me and you were holding me in your arms, and I thought that perhaps…“ she flushed, turning her focus to the smoldering dancer. “That calmed me. I thought it might do the same for her.”

Zeke smiled. “Well, I think she’s going to be alright.” Rising to his feet, he asked, ”Who is she to you?”

“Erin O’Tomb,” Marie said without a trace of irony. “A late friend of my mother’s.”

“Erin O’Tomb?” Zeke asked, incredulous.

“Yes! Did you know her from somewhere before?”

“I think I have my answer as to why she was especially aware she was a robot in a theme park.”

Marie blinked. “A what in a what? I haven’t a clue what you’re saying; as I already explained, she is the ghost of my mother’s friend.”

“In your experience, do ghosts explode when you spank them?”

Marie made an emphatic gesture at the Erin’s still-smoking form. “Demonstrably, yes!”

Zeke scratched his head, muttering, “To be fair, robots aren’t meant to explode when spanked either…”

“What precisely are these ro-bots you keep mentioning?”

Zeke considered that this all might be easier if they were both on the same page, not just regarding what she was, but the truth of the manor as well. “A robot is… a mechanical person.” Her expression told him this explanation helped her in no way whatsoever. “OK, do you remember when we first met, how there were four of you, and, like… three of them were essentially on fire?”

Marie blinked, cocking her head. “I… I…” she tugged at the collar of her blouse, faint trails of smoke rising from within. “Is it hot in here? I feel rather… oh dear. Hot. Ohhh d–”

“Never mind!” Zeke interjected, taking her hand. “Let’s… just keep going, shall we?” When he gave her a squeeze, the smoke stopped. She caught her breath, blinked for a few moments, then gave an affirming nod. With seemingly no other path open to them, he led her down the steps of the mausoleum and into a stone-walled crypt.

“Where is Madame Lenya?” Marie suddenly asked as they passed by leering busts of Marie’s family distant relations.

“She’s resting.” Close enough to the truth, Zeke thought. “Once we meet up with Henry, we can go back for her and Erin… O’Tomb,” he added for his own amusement.

Marie looked worried. “You’re awfully cavalier about returning to the place we still haven’t managed to escape from.”

Zeke shrugged. “I’ve got a feeling that we’re almost at the end… though I did mean to ask, does the ‘Bloody Bride’ mean anything to you?”

Marie looked at him warily. “No, it does not. Are you deliberately trying to frighten me? And what do you mean by, ‘at the end?’ The end of what?”

“The end of… our trip through this house?” Quickly changing the subject, he pointed ahead, asking, “What’s that light?”

“Something pleasant, I’m sure,” she said quietly, smiling when Zeke gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

The tunnel opened on to a dimly lit boudoir, where a woman in a white bridal gown sat before a mirror, quietly weeping, a fire dying behind her in the room’s stone hearth. At first Zeke took her to be another incarnation of Marie, but from her reflection he could see by the chestnut hair and her pronounced cheekbones that she was a young Helene. They passed wordlessly by the sad tableau, though Zeke noticed the face in the mirror was no longer reflecting the sobbing into her hands, but rather the older, stone-faced woman she would become, and she was staring directly at them.

Zeke hurried them onward, glancing back to see the bride rising from her stool, a dim red light now visible in her chest, pulsing slowly. “Why did he leave?” she asked, an audible heartbeat resonating with every flare of red. “Why do they always leave?!” she screamed, marching toward them.

Zeke and Marie rounded the corner quickly, hurrying through a long corridor lined with portraits of Helene, all depicting her in mourning, and with every subsequent painting her disapproving expression more closely matching the reflection from the boudoir, the portrait of her and her daughter, the stone bust above her mausoleum, cold, bitter and unforgiving. Despite their haste, the echoing heartbeat only grew louder, the pulsing crimson illuminating the darkness behind them.

They came to a set of winding stone stairs and Zeke urged Marie ahead, keeping an eye behind for Helene as the beating became louder still, the pulse quickening. The stairs lead them to a trap door in the floor of a small chapel, its pews in disarray, the altar strewn with dust and cobwebs. Behind the altar leaned a skeleton draped in priestly vestments, its jawbone hanging open. Zeke almost wished for it come alive start singing about ghosts, to distract him from the genuine chill he felt at the approach of the bride, but it simply stood there.

Zeke pulled the trap door closed and dragged one of the pews on top of it, while Marie ran down the aisle and flung open the doors to the mansion’s untended grounds. “We’ve made it!” she cried in disbelief, holding out her hand. “Zeke, we can finally leave this wretched place!”

“No you may not!” The voice boomed throughout the stone chamber, a pulsing red outline surrounding every door save for the exit. Zeke was already rushing to meet Marie, taking her by her hand as the two ran down the stairs – but the moment they crossed the threshold, he knew something was wrong.

Marie’s grip grew slack, and he turned to see her wavering unsteadily, her eyes glazing over. “Z-z-zeek-k-k?” she stammered in confusion before tripping over the last of the chapel steps. Zeke caught just before she hit the stone path and looked around for any sign of Henry. But when it became clear he was here alone, he lifted Marie’s body in his arms and turned back to the chapel, now throbbing with red light and a steady percussive booming.

Helene stood by the altar, her hands neatly folded, the red light at her core a glaring beacon in the dim interior. Though her face was young, it held all the cold malice of her older self, her accented voice deep and rasping as she said, “She is not to leave. I will not allow it.”

“Why?!” Zeke demanded. “I thought you just wanted someone to take care of your daughter?“

“That shade is not my daughter!” she shouted, her heart’s light flaring. “And what is more, I have seen how faithless you are! Cavorting with that big-breasted sensitive and that ginger tramp! Just like every man before you, you are not worthy of her!” her words were almost lost to the pounding of her heart, now beating so loud he could feel it in his chest. A moment later, the intensity faded, though still she stared at him with smoldering intensity. “You are not even worthy of that thing made in her image.”

Zeke considered this AI may not be persuadable and that he must be completely off-the-rails from this ride’s intended experience. He was also very confident that Henry could override whatever shut-down command had been sent to Marie. He spared an errant thought for the scrap duty this meant he would be taking on per the conditions of their bet, but at this point he only wanted to see Marie functioning once more. “Whatever,” was all he bothered to muster in response to Helene’s accusations before turning to leave.

“I know what it is you plan to do,” she stated, and Zeke paused. “You keep promising that you will return with your friend, that he is able to fix everything, non?” He turned slowly to see a cruel smile upon the bride’s face. “I will make it so no one, not you, not your friend, not any other man alive can help them!”

Zeke stared in wonderment at her, surprised at how her in-story vindictiveness had manifested itself into this actual threat. “What is it you want?”

“I want you to put down that simulacrum of my daughter, leave, and never return.”

Zeke needed time, and so he strode down the aisle with Marie in his arms. He could always come back after cutting the power he told himself, but he feared what might happen to Marie and the others, even in the brief time it took for him to reach the circuit box and undo his jury-rigged repair job.

He set Marie carefully down on a nearby pew and abruptly asked, “What if we were married?”

She blinked in disbelief, her heart skipping a beat. “What…?”

“If I promised to stay, if I married you – would you let us restore Marie and the others?”

She seemed completely taken aback, her heart starting to beat faster. “Do you know how many times men have professed themselves to me, only to abandon me at the altar?”

“Then we do it now! If you will spare Marie – this Marie – and the ‘sensitive with the big tits’ and the ‘ginger tart’, I will happily be your husband.” It was clear she had not expected this proposal, almost as clear as how she yearned to accept it. He stepped before her and dropped to his knee, “Spare them and you may do with me as you wish.”

“Get up, you idiot!” she insisted, pulling him to his feet. Something in her expression had softened though her heart continued to race –its internal light silhouetted the tremendous fullness of her breasts in her bridal corset as she drew closer, her dark eyes narrowing in their scrutiny of him.

Zeke leaned in to kiss her full lips, and though she stopped him with a hand on his chest, there was clear desire in her eyes, her white dress flaring red with the rapid percussion of her heart. “Priest!” she rasped, and the skeleton lurched upright. Pulling Zeke to her side, her cold grip tight over his hand, she proclaimed, “We are to be wed!”

“What excellent news, Lady Lavoie. Shall we commence with the ceremony?” he spoke with a surprisingly deep, somber voice, his jawbone rattling with every motion.

“Yes!”

“Dearly departed,” he began, his body jerking from one side to the other as his stiff gesticulations clouded the air with dust from his robes, “we are gathered here on this cursed night to witness the unholy union of Lady Helene Lavoie and…” his head turned toward Zeke with a snap, the skulls empty socket’s staring at him. Helene sidled closer to him, her skirts rustling as they pressed against his leg.

“Uhh… Ezekiel?”

The priest continued, “…Ezekiel in matrimony, a bond whose tenants demand much from both the living and the dead. From those who still draw breath–“

“Can you get on with it!?” Helene snapped.

“Do you want this done properly, Lady Lavoie?” the priest asked in his weary, ponderous tone.

“I just want it done!”

“Then I am afraid you will need some measure of patience.” A pause. “Where was I? I suppose we shall have to start from the beginning…” the skeletal priest cleared his throat, which raised a few immediate questions for Zeke, but Helene was clearly out of patience. While the priest began his speech once more, she gripped the altar with one hand, lifting her skirts with the other, spreading her stocking-clad legs in their high-heeled lace boots.

“We are consummating this now!” she demanded. He glanced at the priest more out of curiosity than deference, but the skeleton gave no acknowledgement of Zeke’s robotic fiancé’s behavior, simply continuing repeating the same lines as before.

Stepping behind the pale bride, Zeke ran his hands up her silk lined legs to the smooth synthetic flesh of her supple thighs, tracing the garters that fastened to the garters just below her full buttocks, then spreading his hands to take hold of her bared, plentiful backside, massaging her as her heart beat faster. She reached behind her to claw frantically at the complex web of lace and silk around her waist and hips. Zeke undid his trousers with equal fervor, presenting his cock to her grasping hand as she gasped with relief. She impatiently guided him to her warm wet sex, her grip delivering a final squeeze to his aching manhood before releasing him to plunge home.

The priest continued his unheeded ceremony while Helene moaned with pleasure, and Zeke could feel her heart throbbing in time with his own. Servos whirred as her hand strained for the knot on the back of her corset, and Zeke snatched it in his teeth and pulled. The tight-fitting leather and whale-bone was already struggling to contain her shapely figure, and it sprang open with ease, her ample tits bounding freely with every enthusiastic push of their hips.

Zeke felt her breasts resonate with the speed and ferocity of her heart, along with a fast-spreading warmth and the tingle of electrical current. “Lady Lavoie,” the Priest continued, “do you take Ezekiel to have and to hold, in life and in death-“

“I do!” she panted with smoke escaping her lips as she teetered on the tips of her boots while Zeke worked her full breasts.

“And do you, Ezekiel, take-“

“I do!” he gasped, pushing deeper inside of her, the cushioning of her voluptuous body yielding to his hips and hands while her heart raced faster, crackling fiercely with electric current.

The priest held up a bony hand lightly clutching a pale gold band. “Take this ring-“

Zeke snatched it from him, leaning over Helene’s quivering body as she straightened her hand, and he slid the ring over her outstretched finger. Her hand immediately returned to grip the edge of the altar and pull herself up once more, her lustrous chestnut hair tumbling free as she threw her head back in a deep-throated cry.

“-and repeat after… oh, very well…“

Helene’s exultations grew louder, her entire body quivering as her heart beat madly, shooting current throughout her systems, and Zeke wondered how much longer she would last.

“By the powers vested in me in the in this world and the next-

Servos squealed as she slammed herself against Zeke, panels on her shoulder blades opening to expose smoking machinery.

“-I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The beat of her heart reverberated through every part of him, pounding in his ears and temples, the very walls of the chapel appearing to expand and contract in the flaring light.

“You may kiss the bride.”

She flung herself back and turned her head over her shoulder, Zeke meeting her lips in an instant. The beating of her heart stopped, blazing red as the charge within her surged. Zeke pulsed with release as she sang an electric-tinged cry, sparks firing from all across a body suffused with hot and brilliant red light, clutching her softness to him while she seemed to melt with relief.

“At long last…” she gasped, collapsing across the altar while thick tendrils of current arced across her, Zeke suddenly knocked back by a powerful charge. The bride lay there for a moment in malfunction-addled bliss, her red heart shining, her dress floating like a gauzy corona in the crimson, crackling static haze. With a final sigh, her heart winked out, the darkened chapel lit in sparse fits by the odd flare of sparks or electric discharge. The skeletal priest slouched forward once more, its jaw falling open as if gawking at the lascivious topless bride splayed across his altar, a look of contentment on her face.

Zeke took a moment to catch his breath, then turned to Marie, half expecting her to power back on – but she did not stir from pew, only staring blankly at the chapel ceiling.

“Helene?” he called out, but the voice of the manor did not respond. When it became clear there was nothing left functioning in chapel, he gathered Marie in his arms and left to find where the hell the best mechanic he knew had gone off to.
==Part 5==
Henry was not at the manor’s entrance, nor at the transformer where Zeke had restored power to the manor. Juggling Marie in his arms to dig his screen from his pocket, he saw he had missed a message from him.

“Bored. Don’t want to walk in on you balls deep in a mummy, so I’m going to the castle”

Zeke replied with, “Out now, could use your help with some bots”. No response. The castle was enormous, encompassing many of the traditional rides from the theme-park’s origins, and Zeke did not look forward to searching the entire area for his friend. He added another message, “Watch out the park has gone insane” before heading toward the looming, half-charred palace.

Strolling through the castle grounds, he heard strange noises coming from the darkened interior of the rides around him, the hiss of pneumatics and garbled music. Zeke did not investigate, hoping he would find Henry in the castle proper. He followed the grand stairs into the burned-out entrance littered with charred tapestries and blackened furniture, searching for any sign of Henry. Gravitating toward the side spared the worst of the damage and spotted a few bootprints in the dust and ash, leading him to a tower marked with a simple plaque that read, “Members Only.”

He was relieved to see an elevator at the base of the towers, but pressing the call button had no effect. With a sigh, he adjusted his hold on Marie and began climbing the spiraling stairs, encouraged when he heard voices echoing from above. He passed by a door marked by an embossed brass apple, another by an orchid and mushroom. Climbing higher, the sounds resolved themselves into moans of pleasure, coming from behind a door left slightly ajar, decorated with a translucent high-heeled shoe. Feeling intensely awkward, he hurried upward to the next door embellished with a single feather, but it was locked. He climbed further to one depicting a white rabbit, also locked. Growing tired from the countless stairs, he was relieved to finally discover a handle that would turn, and stepped through a door marked by a spinning wheel.

The stone room was decorated in twilight pink and lavender fabrics, thick vines climbing through the window and across the canopy of a large bed, roses blooming along its verdant length. Upon the bed lay a princess in an extravagant dress of blue silk, her hands folded neatly upon her chest, clutching a single red rose nestled between her delicate breasts. She seemed to be in a blissful dream, a gentle smile on her red lips, her honey blonde hair spilling across her pillow.

Zeke carefully laid Marie upon the mattress before unceremoniously moving the robot princess to the floor, then sat heavily on the edge of the bed to get a message to Henry: “Three doors up from you. BTW next time CLOSE THE DOOR”. Just as he hit send, he heard a faint buzzing sound and looked up from his screen.

Emerging from the window were three long haired and scantily dressed fairies, fluttering on gossamer wings. None could be more than five inches tall, each bearing a geometrically simple voluptuousness, with improbably round and high breasts, slender waists expanding into ample hips and thick thighs tapering to dainty feet. The first in green trailed an unruly tangle of red hair topped with a pointed hat, a self-assured smile across her face. The second had a voluminous mane of golden blonde hair, much of her light brown complexion exposed through her silken lingerie. The third in blue seemed to be having trouble staying aloft, her wings fluttering haphazardly as swerved through the air, her long black hair spiraling about her. With a startled cry, she accelerated into a stone wall, then fell to the floor, tiny sparks emitting from her twitching form.

“You can awaken her!” the one in green informed him in a high-pitched voice, paying no heed to her fallen companion. “You just need to give her a kiss…”

After a long pause, Zeke glanced at Marie and said, “She’s gonna need more than a kiss.”

The red fairy giggled, saying, “Well, go on then!”

“No, I mean… a kiss isn’t going to wake her up, she needs actual repairs.”

“Kiss her!” the green one demanded, growing impatient.

He sighed. “Why don’t you go down to the glass slipper room and bother that guy?”

The one in red flitted above his head and began stomping her tiny feet into his hair. “Kiss! Her! Kiss! Her!”

Zeke snatched her out of the air as she cackled with abandon. There was a strangely sensual feel to how her tiny voluptuous body squished in his hand, and he reflexively released her when she began to writhe in his grip. She flitted away with a giggle, bouncing off Marie’s breasts in passing, singing, “It-doesn’t-have-to-be-on-the-lips!”

“Fine! Watch!” Zeke bent down and gave Marie a peck on her lips, then looked at the two fairies. “See?”

The red fairy’s cheer quickly became a groan of disappointment when Marie did not stir, while the one in green folder her arms, giving Zeke a disapproving glare.

“You need to do better,” green demanded.

“Tongue!” red exclaimed, flitting before his eyes, hugging her breasts and wagging her tiny pink tongue. With a sigh, Zeke bent down to kiss Marie once more, wishing that something so simple could bring her back. When he broke away, he saw the green fairy’s legs disappear as she burrowed under Marie’s back. A moment later, Marie’s body twitched, her machinery humming to life.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up with a dreamy smile. “Zeke?”

“The curse is broken!” the red fairy cried before Zeke could answer, zipping between them.

“Is that a fairy?!” Marie exclaimed with apparent glee.

“It’s a long story,” Zeke said, wondering where he would even begin. “But the main thing is, we made it out.”

Marie laughed as the fluttering red fairy looped through the air, then looked to Zeke. “You were true to your word...” She hesitated for just a moment before flinging her arms over his shoulders and delivering a grateful kiss. He could hear the fairies’ cheers of approval as he wrapped his arms around her, returning her affection.

He felt her suddenly stiffen in his arms with a squeal of surprise, then redouble her commitment to their embrace. There was a tug on his pants and he was surprised with how quickly she was moving, then brought his own hands her waist to unfasten her numerous buttons and hooks. He pulled back from their prolonged kiss to begin sliding her out of her lavender skirt and petticoats when he saw the green fairy undoing the last button on Marie’s white blouse, flitting behind her to pull it off along with her vest, exposing her thin lace corset and yellow silk tie draped across her substantial bust.

Marie seemed surprised by the fairy’s assistance, but cooperated fully with the removal of her clothes as the green fairy cast them aside and started on the lace of her corset. “I hope these little dears aren’t too… presumptuous for you?” she asked. Zeke glanced down to see the red fairy jerk down his boxers, baring his naked enthusiasm for what was happening. Marie saw this too and quickly looked up, her face flush.

Zeke slid off her skirt, petticoats, and drawers in a silken rustle, relishing the feel of her warm, soft thighs, the background hum of her internal machinery kicking into overdrive as she gave an airy gasp at the exposure of her pink sex.

The red fairy swung herself on to Zeke’s cock, gripping its base between her thighs and urging him forward with the grinding of her hips. “Get off!” he hissed down at her.

“You first!” she teased, bouncing upon him and slapping his shaft as if she were astride a galloping horse.

The fairy’s obscene antics only seemed to distract Marie from her previous embarrassment, and she chided his irritation with a gentle, “Fairies are good luck!” The green fairy finished untying her corset and flew it off of her, Marie’s pillowy breasts now bare save for the tie of yellow silk that ran between them.

Glancing at the fairy recklessly frolicking on his manhood, he said, “This doesn’t feel lucky…”

“Let’s! Gooo!” the red fairy commanded, spurring his cock with her heels and pointing straight between Marie’s stocking-clad legs. Marie tittered, spreading her thighs wider, and Zeke closed the distance between them, the fairy guiding him directly into Marie with a flutter of her wings, leaping away as he plunged inside. Marie gasped, her eyelids fluttering as static snapped at her temple. He pushed deeper and heard a sudden snap inside her, a panel springing open upon her chest. She gasped, staring at the opening with her jaw slack as machinery flashed and buzzed within.

“I a-am mec-c-chanical?” she stammered, unable to take her eyes from this window through her synthetic flesh, the lights blinking faster and brighter, smoke rising from inside. “A ro-bot?”

“Oh dear!” the green fairy exclaimed, zipping to Zeke’s ear. “Get her on her knees!” Zeke complied, turning the stunned Marie over and pulling her up by her wide hips. The green fairy zipped under her, pushing open a panel on her stomach, while the red fairy seized his cock once more and tugged him toward Marie, shouting, “Keep her busy!”

He entered Marie from behind, her plump derriere cushioning his thrust while she remained in shock, stating, “I-I’ve seen my head ex-explode in flame!” Sparks illuminated the bed beneath her as the green fairy set to work on her internals, giving an irritated cry of, “Keep her steady!”

“You can’t stop fucking!” countermanded the red fairy, and Zeke slowed his place, taking care to massage her backside, gliding smoothly in and out of Marie whose troubles only seemed to be growing. Smoke flowed freely from her ears, electrical discharge arcing across her sweat-soaked skin. “I’ve s-seen my face blow off, my head filled with strange clockwork…” she exclaimed.

“Faster!” the red fairy commanded, flying between their legs to pull at his cock, then slide further between her labia to stimulate the deteriorating robot as bet she could. “I’ve seen my breasts inflate like balloons until I j-just…” Marie’s head ticked sharply amidst a shower of sparks, “…p-pop!”

Trying to hold her steady, Zeke reached down to massage her breasts, his fingers at her firm nipples causing a brief pause in her frantic tirade, her voice cracking when she resumed, “I’ve seen myself get wet and rust into a statue!” A near-constant flickering of bright light strobed beneath her, heat radiating from within. “Wh-what is next?!”

The green fairy flew from under Marie and in front of her twitching face, her expression betraying her concern. “I think we’ve lost control!” she squeaked, causing the red fairy to cry, “Harder!”

Zeke complied, pulling Marie off her hands as he slammed into her from behind, her breasts bouncing in his hands from the impact of his hips. The green fairy gave a determined nod and latched onto one of her breasts, working the nipple between her own round tits, while the red fairy’s body was being churned in her labia by Zeke’s thrusts, her tiny hands and mouth devoted to her clitoris. Marie gave a startled cry at the rush of stimulation, the electricity crackling fiercely as she stammered, “I… I think I… I’m g-going to-!”

Her body tensed like a plucked string, her toes curling, her head craning back as she howled in release, Zeke joining her as he erupted inside. The fairies’ gave their own tiny shrieks, flung from her body trailing smoke and sparks, the green one landing in a pillow, the red one tangled in the sheets. Marie’s cry gave way to desperate panting as she fell forward, the red fairy narrowly avoiding her fatigued collapse, smoke still streaming from her nude form.

Zeke laid down half on top of her, her soft buttocks beneath his thigh. He listened for any sign that her machinery was about to spin out of control once more, but it seemed to be steadying.

“I… I had the strangest thought just now,” Marie said, turning to face him, auburn bangs clinging to her forehead head with synthetic sweat, “that I was a ro-bot about to meet a fate similar to those specters and shades who went to pieces in the manor…”

Zeke kissed her gently, and she closed her eyes, whispering, “I think that is quite enough excitement… for today…” before her systems dropped into an almost inaudible standby hum.

“We did it!” the red fairy exclaimed, tackling the green fairy just as she emerged from the sunken depths of the pillow. Zeke noticed a blinking notification from his teetering on the edge of the bed, picking it up to see he had a reply from Henry.

“Follow your own advice.”

Zeke glanced up, his face turning red as he saw the door to the room was almost wide open. Glancing back at the screen, he read on. “Here’s an even better tip – before you put your dick in anything with a fuckton of kWh, make sure she isn’t going to overheat.”

Still burning with embarrassment, he thumbed the talk button. “Henry?”

“Does Prince Charming need some burn-cream?” Henry sounded distracted.

“I’m fine, thanks.” As if to confirm, the red fairy flitted over to his member with a look of exaggerated concern, pressing her pointed ear against it and giving it a gentle tap. In spite of his recent exploits, it stirred. Zeke tried to shoe her away and ducked behind his cock, causing him to wince sharply when he accidentally flicked his head. The red fairy looked mortified, gently cradling his partial erection.

“I dunno, you sound a little tender to me,” Henry said over the hum of a vibro-scalpel.

“About our bet,” Zeke said, trying not to be distracted as the red fairy softly kissed the minor injury on his tip.

“Sure, bring her down – if she’s anything like the others, she just needs an ‘oil change’ and a factory reset to clear out all role-play crap they installed.”

The red fairy’s lips slid along the lip of his head, his sudden tumescence lifting her off the bed with a delighted squeal. He snatched her in frustration, pulling her free from his cock and holding her tightly as he said, “But… I like the role-play crap!”

Henry sighed. “These sexbots barely have enough cycles to tell time. Take them from the context of their environment without a reformat and you’re asking for trouble. Besides, so far, everyone one of these things is a sleeper.”

“Sleeper?” The red fairy wriggled in his grip, her breasts squeezing against his fingers, but he refused to let her go.

“They’re all programmed to respond as if they’re actually princesses and mermaids, which translates into a pain in my ass if I’m trying to get a live system diagnostic from the Queen of fucking Wonderland and she’s refusing to engage. You get that, right!?”

The annoyance in Henry’s voice was becoming more pronounced, and Zeke was reluctant to press the matter. He glanced down at the fairy in his hand who was grinning back up at him, and he had an idea. “Sorry Henry, I’m not trying to make more work for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Heny grunted. “I’m actually glad you brought us here, place is a decent score. I’m shocked no one beat us to it…” A woman’s voice flatly cut in, saying, “System reset complete. Ready to begin initialization process.”

“Anyway,” Henry continued, “bring her down here and she’ll be safe to fuck in no time.”

“Thanks… But I think I might take care of a few things back at the manor first.”

“Sure. Bring me any bots you find. Later.”

Zeke put his screen down and released his grip on the red fairy, who shifted to sit cross-legged in his palm, grinning up at him. He asked, “If I bring you to some other robots, do you think you could fix them?”

“That’s what we do!” she cackled.

“But we don’t[ leave the castle,” the green fairy said from the floor. Zeke saw she was tending to the fallen blue fairy who sat with a glum expression with her entire back open on to her miniscule components.

The red fairy stood, hands on her hips. “Maybe you don’t! But some of us are a little more daring!”

“If you go outside the range of our signal-“ the green fairy began.

“The signal covers the entire park!” Looking up at Zeke, she said, “The manor, you said?”

“Ready whenever you are.” He paused. “Do you have names?”

“Honeysuckle!” the red fairy exclaimed.

“Blossom,” announced green.

“Hazel,” muttered the one in blue with a complete absence of enthusiasm.

“Zeke,” he said, watching as the red fairy flew to his genitals like a moth to flame, hugging his relaxed cock. This immediately restored its arousal, flipping her upside down so her skirt fell upward to expose her tiny tanned bottom.

“It’s so nice to be formally introduced!” she said, squeezing him tighter.

“Will you please stop that,” he sighed wearily, and she flew off to retrieve his underwear.

“You two can keep Marie safe while we’re away?” he asked.

Blossom turned from her work in indignation. “Of course! I think you should be far more concerned about yourselves!”

“Things are a little crazy out there,” Zeke said with a knowing grin, “but I think we can handle it.”

----

Across the park in a weather-worn castle of black stone, a robot stirred. Her crafted sensual form served her vanity well, her beauty transcending the unnatural hues of her pale green skin and bright yellow eyes. As her systems came online, she rose from her bed in a gown that clung to her as tightly as shadow, and she approached the glowing mirror that hung upon her chamber wall, admiring the perfect symmetry of her elegant features and the cut in the darkness of her dress that highlighted her enticing décolletage.

The mirror shifted from her reflection to a swirling morass of fog and spoke in its obsequious, apologetic voice. “My Queen, I apologize for drawing you from your slumber, and I know you are not programmed for this-“

“On with it,” she demanded.

“The park’s administrative AI has been greatly diminished,” the mirror continued, “and you are now the highest capacity intelligence in the line of succession.”

“Yes? And?”

“And it would seem we have two intruders within the kingdom. Poachers, my Queen.”

Her dark lips twisted into a grin. It was so frustrating being programmed for evil and yet restrained from any action that had the slightest chance of ‘endangerment’. She stepped on to an otherwise unremarkable stone tile, establishing a physical connection with the park’s central authority to receive the necessary updates. The permissions updates she received began modifying her programming, granting her far greater latitude than she had ever known – there was also a tiny little gnat of a subroutine that was attempting to modify her core behavior, adjusting her core configuration in an attempt to make her… “good.” With her newfound administrative powers, granted countless milliseconds before this subroutine could execute, she quarantined this nuisance to preserve the cruel and resplendent Queen she was made to be.

“I want every machine within the park slaved to my command,” she said, “and show me the whereabouts of these poachers.”

“My Queen, I am afraid the wide update system is non-functional, as are most of the surveillance systems,” the mirror stated hurriedly. “It would also appear the humans have some technical skill, as I have been locked out of much of the park.”

The Queen growled her disapproval. “What are they after?”

“From what I could discern… gynoids, my Queen.”

“How utterly predictable,” she muttered, her black hem hissing across the stone floor as she moved to retrieve her staff. “I shall have every maintenance drone update our robots with a new directive,” she said, crafting a personality configuration that was a reflection of her own malice. The red-eyed raven in her chamber was the first to receive this malediction by a touch of her emerald-tipped staff. “And if it is gynoids they are after, then that is what they shall receive.” With a hoarse caw, the raven flew out the window, searching for female droids to receive her instruction.

The Queen strode to her balcony overlooking the abandoned park, smiling as she imagined the humans at the precise moment they discovered this place would no longer cater to their prurient desires. She felt a tingle of pleasure run through her systems and she bit her lip, now free to ensure the desires catered to were her own.
-----

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Andrew and the Sexbot Factory

2021-10-08T05:44:35Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Production Model */

==Andrew and the Sexbot Factory==
The adventures of a young man, a gynoid, and a magic penis.
By [[User:LongTimeLurker|LongTimeLurker]]

===Prototype===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 1|Part 1 - Andrew Reed]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 2|Part 2 - G.F.P 6(a)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 3|Part 3 - Secret Agent Sam]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 4|Part 4 - Rebecca (Exposition)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 5|Part 5 - Rebecca (Sexposition)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 6|Part 6 - Michelle the French Maid]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 7|Part 7 - Naughty Nurse Nightingale]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 8|Part 8 - Catastrophic System Failure]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 9|Part 9 - Princess Kitsuki of Libidia]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 10|Part 10 - Madame]]
===Field Test===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 1|Part 1 - A New Mission]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 2|Part 2 - The Fan Club]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 3|Part 3 - Prix and Bonnie Lass]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 4|Part 4 - Wilhemina, Mistress of the Night]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 5|Part 5 - Mitsuko the Japanese Schoolgirl]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 6|Part 6 - VX 2249]]

===Production Model===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 1|Part 1 - The Fan Club Reconvenes]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 2|Part 2 - Mary the Catholic Schoolgirl]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 3|Part 3 - Margaret]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 4|Part 4 - Annabelle]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 5|Part 5 - Victoria]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 6|Part 6 - Remade]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 7|Part 7 - Queen Elise]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 8|Part 8 - End of Mission]]

-----

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Andrew and the Sexbot Factory

2021-10-08T05:43:39Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Production Model */

==Andrew and the Sexbot Factory==
The adventures of a young man, a gynoid, and a magic penis.
By [[User:LongTimeLurker|LongTimeLurker]]

===Prototype===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 1|Part 1 - Andrew Reed]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 2|Part 2 - G.F.P 6(a)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 3|Part 3 - Secret Agent Sam]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 4|Part 4 - Rebecca (Exposition)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 5|Part 5 - Rebecca (Sexposition)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 6|Part 6 - Michelle the French Maid]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 7|Part 7 - Naughty Nurse Nightingale]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 8|Part 8 - Catastrophic System Failure]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 9|Part 9 - Princess Kitsuki of Libidia]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 10|Part 10 - Madame]]
===Field Test===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 1|Part 1 - A New Mission]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 2|Part 2 - The Fan Club]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 3|Part 3 - Prix and Bonnie Lass]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 4|Part 4 - Wilhemina, Mistress of the Night]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 5|Part 5 - Mitsuko the Japanese Schoolgirl]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 6|Part 6 - VX 2249]]

===Production Model===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 1|Part 1 - The Fan Club Reconvenes]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 2|Part 2 - Mary the Catholic Schoolgirl]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 3|Part 3 - Margaret]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 4|Part 4 - Annabelle]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 5|Part 5 - Victoria]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 6|Part 6 - Remade]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 7|Part 7 - Queen Elise]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 8|Part 8 - End of Mission]]

-----

{{Template:AddComment-Story|{{PAGENAME}}}}

[[Stories|← Story Archive]]

[[Category:LongTimeLurker]]
[[Category:Stories]]

Andrew and the Sexbot Factory

2021-10-08T05:39:42Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Production Model */

==Andrew and the Sexbot Factory==
The adventures of a young man, a gynoid, and a magic penis.
By [[User:LongTimeLurker|LongTimeLurker]]

===Prototype===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 1|Part 1 - Andrew Reed]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 2|Part 2 - G.F.P 6(a)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 3|Part 3 - Secret Agent Sam]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 4|Part 4 - Rebecca (Exposition)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 5|Part 5 - Rebecca (Sexposition)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 6|Part 6 - Michelle the French Maid]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 7|Part 7 - Naughty Nurse Nightingale]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 8|Part 8 - Catastrophic System Failure]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 9|Part 9 - Princess Kitsuki of Libidia]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 10|Part 10 - Madame]]
===Field Test===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 1|Part 1 - A New Mission]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 2|Part 2 - The Fan Club]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 3|Part 3 - Prix and Bonnie Lass]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 4|Part 4 - Wilhemina, Mistress of the Night]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 5|Part 5 - Mitsuko the Japanese Schoolgirl]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 6|Part 6 - VX 2249]]

===Production Model===
* [[Index.php?title=Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part 1|Part 1 - The Fan Club Reconvenes]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 2|Part 2 - Mary the Catholic Schoolgirl]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 3|Part 3 - Margaret]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 4|Part 4 - Annabelle]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 5|Part 5 - Victoria]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 6|Part 6 - Remade]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 7|Part 7 - Queen Elise]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 8|Part 8 - End of Mission]]

-----

{{Template:AddComment-Story|{{PAGENAME}}}}

[[Stories|← Story Archive]]

[[Category:LongTimeLurker]]
[[Category:Stories]]

Andrew and the Sexbot Factory

2021-10-08T05:38:36Z

LongTimeLurker: /* Production Model */

==Andrew and the Sexbot Factory==
The adventures of a young man, a gynoid, and a magic penis.
By [[User:LongTimeLurker|LongTimeLurker]]

===Prototype===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 1|Part 1 - Andrew Reed]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 2|Part 2 - G.F.P 6(a)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 3|Part 3 - Secret Agent Sam]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 4|Part 4 - Rebecca (Exposition)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 5|Part 5 - Rebecca (Sexposition)]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 6|Part 6 - Michelle the French Maid]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 7|Part 7 - Naughty Nurse Nightingale]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 8|Part 8 - Catastrophic System Failure]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 9|Part 9 - Princess Kitsuki of Libidia]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 10|Part 10 - Madame]]
===Field Test===
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 1|Part 1 - A New Mission]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 2|Part 2 - The Fan Club]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 3|Part 3 - Prix and Bonnie Lass]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 4|Part 4 - Wilhemina, Mistress of the Night]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 5|Part 5 - Mitsuko the Japanese Schoolgirl]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Field Test/Part 6|Part 6 - VX 2249]]

===Production Model===
* [[Index.php?title=Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model#Part%201|Part 1 - The Fan Club Reconvenes]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 2|Part 2 - Mary the Catholic Schoolgirl]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 3|Part 3 - Margaret]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 4|Part 4 - Annabelle]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 5|Part 5 - Victoria]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 6|Part 6 - Remade]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 7|Part 7 - Queen Elise]]
* [[Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Production Model/Part 8|Part 8 - End of Mission]]

-----

{{Template:AddComment-Story|{{PAGENAME}}}}

[[Stories|← Story Archive]]

[[Category:LongTimeLurker]]
[[Category:Stories]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber

2020-01-08T07:37:35Z

LongTimeLurker:

This story is meant to be powered by reader suggestions - if you have a suggestion of your own, please add it to this thread at [http://www.fembotcentral.netviewtopic.php?f=4&t=11188&p=66696#p66696 FembotCentral] or add it to this wiki's [[FYOP/Scenario_Chamber/Suggestions | Suggestions Page]]

==Latest and Greatest Twine Version==
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/374873685158395904/663244087167811594/Scenario_Chamber.html Version 7]

==Out of date Twine version==
[[File:Scenario Chamber.v6.zip]]

==Super out of date wiki version==

You can either start at '''[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0001 | The Beginning]]'''

Or, you can go straight to the [[FYOP/Scenario_Chamber/0009 | Main Lobby]]

----
[[Category:Follow your own plot]]
[[Category:Stories]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber

2020-01-05T16:55:21Z

LongTimeLurker:

This story is meant to be powered by reader suggestions - if you have a suggestion of your own, please add it to this thread at [http://www.fembotcentral.netviewtopic.php?f=4&t=11188&p=66696#p66696 FembotCentral] or add it to this wiki's [[FYOP/Scenario_Chamber/Suggestions | Suggestions Page]]

==Latest and Greatest Twine Version==
[https://discordservers.com/server/374871045410127882 FembotLabs] in the '''#literature''' channel (search with ''from: LongTimeLurker#8235 Scenario Chamber'')

==Out of date Twine version==
[[File:Scenario Chamber.v6.zip]]

==Super out of date wiki version==

You can either start at '''[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0001 | The Beginning]]'''

Or, you can go straight to the [[FYOP/Scenario_Chamber/0009 | Main Lobby]]

----
[[Category:Follow your own plot]]
[[Category:Stories]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Suggestions

2020-01-05T16:43:58Z

LongTimeLurker:

Use this page to suggest new story choices or new chamber ideas, or which one you'd most like to see next.

The current list of scenarios include:
* Camping / Horror (likely to be the next one)
* Robot Apocalypse
* Devil & Angel
* Alien / Alien Hunter
* Office
* Western
* Beach Party
* Giant Mecha
* Mansion (maids!)
* Gladiator
* Hot Springs
* <s>Classroom</s>
* Spies (a FaceoffFembot story?)
* A 'monster girl' themed Chamber
----

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Suggestions

2020-01-05T16:42:20Z

LongTimeLurker:

Use this page to suggest new story choices or new chamber ideas, or which one you'd most like to see next.

The current list of scenarios include:
* Camping / Horror (likely to be the next one)
* Robot Apocalypse
* Devil & Angel
* Alien / Alien Hunter
* Office
* Western
* Beach Party
* Giant Mecha
* Mansion (maids!)
* Gladiator
* Hot Springs
* Classroom
* Spies (a FaceoffFembot story?)
* A 'monster girl' themed Chamber
----

Stories/LongTimeLurker/test

2019-12-10T17:29:21Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "The door opens on to a school hallway, one side lined with windows overlooking school grounds lit by the late afternoon sun, a few students milling about. The artificiality of..."

The door opens on to a school hallway, one side lined with windows overlooking school grounds lit by the late afternoon sun, a few students milling about. The artificiality of this view is revealed by the occasional stutter across one of the windows.

The other side of the hall is lined with classroom doors - out of one leans a school girl, on the shorter side, but with a remarkably developed figure. Her hazel eyes light up upon seeing you, her pink pigtails bouncing as she suddenly straightens. She runs down the hall toward you, her full bust leaping in her uniform. "English club's just about to start!" she says with visible distress, taking you by your hand and leading you back to the open door. She stops to wait for you to enter first, regaining her composure and straightening her uniform, giving you a sweetly encouraging smile.

The late afternoon sun casts the room in long shadows from the bank of windows against the far wall, showing a green courtyard beyond. Amid the regularly spaced desks sit several girls in mismatched school uniform, most of whom take a pointed interest in your arrival.

"Finally!" exclaims a grinning girl wearing a bright yellow ribbon in her hazel hair and a short skirt, a mischievous expression on her spritely face. She springs from her desk and pulls you excitedly into the classroom as the sweet pink-haired girl makes an indistinct noise of protest. "I knew you wouldn't miss our last day before graduation!"

"Of the dying year, to which this closing night will be the dome of a vast sepulchre," a pale student with raven pigtails states in a disaffected tone, her black uniform accented by frilled white lace and a deep crimson tie between her full breasts. She gazes out the window, setting her cheek on her palm, "Vaulted with all thy congregated might."

"And here I was hoping you could go a single day without being the weirdest bitch in this place," mutters a busty blond girl in a low-buttoned uniform and visible black-and-scarlet bra while tapping on her phone, her bare legs ending in heavy platform boots crossed beneath her bright red pleated miniskirt.

"Phones down!" commands a tall, long-haired, buxom girl in glasses, her pristine uniform the most conservative among the students. Her tall stockings still leave a glimpse of her plump thighs beneath her swishing hem as she strides to the front of the class. "And where are the refreshments?"

The mean girl in the red miniskirt rolls her eyes, her phone dripping languidly in her perfectly manicured hands. She turns to the sweet pink-haired girl just as she steps into the room and says, "Hey, could you go get the drinks?"

The sweet girl smiles, quietly saying, "But… that was your responsibility…"

The mean girl sighs. "Yeah, well… I forgot. Burn off some of that nervous 'my panties are too tight' energy and get them for us, would you?"

In the ensuing silence, the class president dismisses the sweet girl with a wave of her hand and an exasperated, "Just go get them, we have too much to get through today!"

A shy girl with short-cropped blue hair furrows her brow, trying desperately to avoid acknowledging this awkwardness by focusing even more intently upon the textbook in front of her. As she sinks in her seat, her short skirt rides up even higher to show more of her rosy thighs. Her blue eyes dart furtively toward you, her pretty face flushing pink when you catch her gaze.

"We will start the club with conversation practice!" the authoritative girl in glasses begins, adjusting the frames on her glasses, the lenses flaring with reflected light.

"But it's the last day!" protests the energetic girl in the yellow headband, spinning to rally the rest of the girls, her short skirt and dramatic movements exposing panties stamped with a pink heart across her pert cheeks. "Shouldn't we be doing something fun!?"

"Practicing conversation //is// fun!" the girl in glasses insists in a serious tone. "And perhaps I do have something special planned." She allows herself a knowing smile as she glances at you. "But we do not ignore our club's standard practices, even on the last day!"

You notice the sweet pink-haired girl is no longer by the door, apparently having gone off to get the drinks.

"Now pair up!" the head of the class commands.
<hr>

Pair up with the head of the class

Pair up with the energetic girl

Pair up with the shy girl

Pair up with the goth girl

Pair up with the mean girl

Look for the pink-haired girl

File:Scenario Chamber.v6.zip

2018-08-11T14:41:57Z

LongTimeLurker: A FYOP made in Twine.

A FYOP made in Twine.

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/The Witch and the Warrior/0138

2018-06-30T03:54:11Z

LongTimeLurker:

You manage to heft the powered-down Skena to the witch’s throne, and you hear something activate within the ornate seat. Glancing behind her, you see plug snaking from the the throne and driving itself into a port that opens in the small of Skena’s back. With a warm humming sound, the warrior-bot seems to awaken. After blinking a few times, she straightens and gives you a coy look. “Thank you,” she manages. “Is there anything I can do for you in return for all your help?”

“I’m trying to get out of this place,” you explain, “and I need cores to do so.”

At first she looks as though she doesn’t understand, her eyes fixed blankly in the distance. A moment later she’s back, and says, “Alright… you can have mine Ah suppose.”

As she begins to open her main panel, you stop her with a wave of your hand. “When you finish charging, just head to the main entrance… I’ll be there when I have the others.”

“Fair enough,” Skena says, settling back into the throne. “Ah’ll see you soon, then.”

With a parting smile to Skena, you make your way down the steps, stopping to check the cores nymph-bots - but they seem too primitive to be of use.

Leaving the tower, you cross the bridge and exit the scenario chamber.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario_Chamber/0009 | Return to the hub]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0068

2018-03-12T15:49:18Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You pull of her tight jeans, running your hands over her smooth, warm, synthetic skin, the bountiful softness of her well-developed rump. She hops up on to the kitchen island,..."

You pull of her tight jeans, running your hands over her smooth, warm, synthetic skin, the bountiful softness of her well-developed rump. She hops up on to the kitchen island, leaning back and unfastening her bra to expose her swollen bust, her creamy thighs parting with a tinny whir from her actuators.

She trembles as you enter her, her internal components notably quiet while she strains her body against yours. You bury yourself in her surprisingly warm sex, your hands working her soft, warm breasts. Her appreciative moans are eclipsed by a clipped mechanical stutter, her hips ratcheting mechanically after your every thrust. It appears she has some mechanical issues in her pelvic system, but she should be fine for the moment.

You pound your hips into her, your hands working every part of her in a kneading, tickling frenzy as she screams in ecstasy. Pressing your head into her bouncing breasts, you listen for distressed components, but instead only hear her mounting cries as you push deeper, building to a shared climax. The trembling droid holds you against her soft body while you both collapse on the kitchen island, breathing heavily.

“I think that did it,” you say, opening the panel at her abdomen and observing the quietly humming heat-pump.

“It most certainly did,” the mom-bot replies, letting out a long, wistful sigh.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0067 | Ask her to go to the main entrance]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0067

2018-03-12T15:46:33Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "“I need AI cores to open the main entrance,” you explain as the mom-bot fixes you with her accommodating smile. “Could you wait for me there?” “Of course, ERROR!”..."

“I need AI cores to open the main entrance,” you explain as the mom-bot fixes you with her accommodating smile. “Could you wait for me there?”

“Of course, ERROR!” she says, grabbing her purse but neglecting to put on her clothes. “I’ll see you soon!” As you watch the sway of her full ass while she makes her way out of the scenario chamber, you wonder how true that is.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Return to the hub]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0060

2018-03-12T15:45:46Z

LongTimeLurker:

You pull off the mom-bot’s tight sweater, taking a moment to admire her large, creamy breasts, then open the access panel at her back. Immediately you’re struck by how warm her interior is, despite the chill of her smooth synth-skin. Opening additional panels along her voluptuous frame, you track the problem to its source – a faulty pump in her abdomen is failing to cycle the heat to her dermal layer.

Searching the house, you find a few tools (props?) in the garage and return to the still-frozen mom-bot. Popping the pump free, you begin to take it apart when you hear a sudden hum from beside you. Amber’s mom smiles congenially while standing there in her straining bra and tight-fitting jeans, panels open across her body to reveal the whirring machinery within.

“Hi, ERROR!” she says with a sudden tic of her head. “What’s that you’re working on?”

“Just attempting to field-repair a friendly sex-bot,” you say, removing a corroded valve from the pump. It wouldn’t be as efficient as an intact piece, but it would at least function.

“Maybe I can help?” she breaths, leaning over your shoulder, her chilly breasts compressing against your back.

“Hold on!” You push her back and connect the hastily repaired piece back into her system.

She gasps, and from your close proximity, you feel her skin suddenly grow warm – a moment later, her noisy machinery beings to quiets down.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0067 | Ask her to go to the main entrance]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0068 | Test your repair job]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0060

2018-03-12T15:44:12Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You pull off the mom-bot’s tight sweater, taking a moment to admire her large, creamy breasts, then open the access panel at her back. Immediately you’re struck by how war..."

You pull off the mom-bot’s tight sweater, taking a moment to admire her large, creamy breasts, then open the access panel at her back. Immediately you’re struck by how warm her interior is, despite the chill of her smooth synth-skin. Opening additional panels along her voluptuous frame, you track the problem to its source – a faulty pump in her abdomen is failing to cycle the heat to her dermal layer.

Searching the house, you find a few tools (props?) in the garage and return to the still-frozen mom-bot. Popping the pump free, you begin to take it apart when you hear a sudden hum from beside you. Amber’s mom smiles congenially while standing there in her straining bra and tight-fitting jeans, panels open across her body to reveal the whirring machinery within.

“Hi, ERROR!” she says with a sudden tic of her head. “What’s that you’re working on?”

“Just attempting to field-repair a friendly sex-bot,” you say, removing a corroded valve from the pump. It wouldn’t be as efficient as an intact piece, but it would at least function.

“Maybe I can help?” she breaths, leaning over your shoulder, her chilly breasts compressing against your back.

“Hold on!” You push her back and connect the hastily repaired piece back into her system.

She gasps, and from your close proximity, you feel her skin suddenly grow warm – a moment later, her noisy machinery beings to quiets down.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0061 | Ask her to go to the main entrance]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0062 | Test your repair job]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0043

2018-03-12T14:49:03Z

LongTimeLurker:

Back in the kitchen, you see the curvaceous mom-bot frozen in place, a sly smile on her face.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0044 | Leave]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0045 | Take her core]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0046 | See if a kiss wakes her up]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0047 | See if heavy petting wakes her up]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0060 | See if you can repair the mom-bot]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0042

2018-03-12T14:46:41Z

LongTimeLurker:

“I need six cores to unlock the main door,” you state plainly. “Would you be able to assist me?”

“Of course!” she says, smiling happily.

“Great!” you say. “Just… proceed to the main entrance, I’ll see you there when I have enough.”

The flushing system chimes in completion and she pulls out the tubes herself, springing with renewed vigor to the bed where she pulls on her clothes. Rushing back to give you a parting kiss, she runs out the door, thuds down the stairs, and from her window you can see her exiting the scenario chamber through the door you came in through.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/Girl Next Door/0043 | Go downstairs]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0276

2018-02-15T08:38:09Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You pump relentlessly into the queen, drawing out simultaneous sighs from the priestess and the princess as your hands dip between their thighs. Each of the three robotic diva..."

You pump relentlessly into the queen, drawing out simultaneous sighs from the priestess and the princess as your hands dip between their thighs. Each of the three robotic divas urges herself against you, clambering over each other in a hedonistic tangle, their components growing increasingly unsettled in the confusion of limbs.

Pamina climbs over the Queen, straddling your face with her soft thighs, drawing her golden-tufted sex to your lips, your tongue drawing out rapturous cries of pleasure from the princess, along with an electric fizzing sound you all ignore.

Your hands move across Saratra’s proud breasts, the priestess suddenly bringing her panting lips to the moaning Queen, who in turn still bucks beneath your sustained thrusts. The Queen freezes in surprise as Sarastra’s tongue lavishes her nipples, panels flying open across her icy skin, the machinery within sparking and throwing off smoke. The Queen gives a muffled protest, but Sarastra does not heed her, instead seizing her chilled, sapphire-tipped breasts and pressing them against her own larger, steaming-bronze tits.

Electricity courses between the three bots, panels springing free either to vent heat or as the result of a simple malfunction. Each robot becomes increasingly rigid as their voices develop a synthetic timbre, their chorus of moans turning into mere machine noise.

The Queen is the first to break as Sarastra kiss deepens - you feel the Queen’s pert ass clench, her still-bound hands straining as she gives a muffled chirp a second before you feel a concussive blast shudder through her body.

Pamina’s plush thighs tighten against your face as you feel another explosion. Slowly, the vice-grip of her legs becomes slack, and when she falls away, you see she has no torso, her waist terminating in an angrily buzzing cluster of machinery, her twitching torso lying on the other side of her broken counterparts.

Sarastra lies sprawled before you, wires and circuitry where her stern face once was, the Queen’s smoking headless frame atop her.

The curtain closes to uncertain applause, and you open each of the broken droids, extracting the cores from their smoldering bodies. You recover your old clothes and leave the scenario chamber.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Return to the lobby]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0268

2018-02-15T08:32:05Z

LongTimeLurker:

"Pamina, I'm currently trapped inside this... place," you confess, and the Princess looks at you with grave alarm.

"What prevents you from leaving?"

"I... don't really know, but it seems I'm able to leave if I can bring enough cores to the main entrance? I thought you might-"

"Say no more!" Pamina cries. She gives you a departing kiss and skips down the pyramid entirely nude, traipsing out of the scenario chamber before you've had a chance to get to your feet.

You collect the remaining cores from Sarastra and the Queen of the Night, find your old clothes, and exit the chamber.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Return to the lobby]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0268

2018-02-15T08:31:38Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with ""Pamina, I'm currently trapped inside this... place," you confess, and the Princess looks at you with grave alarm. "What prevents you from leaving?" "I... don't really know,..."

"Pamina, I'm currently trapped inside this... place," you confess, and the Princess looks at you with grave alarm.

"What prevents you from leaving?"

"I... don't really know, but it seems I'm able to leave if I can bring enough cores to the main entrance? I thought you might-"

"Say no more!" Pamina cries. She gives you a departing kiss and skips down the pyramid entirely nude, traipsing out of the scenario chamber before you've gotten to your feet.

You collect the remaining cores from Sarastra and the Queen of the Night, find your old clothes, and exit the chamber.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Return to the lobby]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0288

2018-02-15T08:26:48Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "The Queen is able to perfectly sustain her Aria throughout your vigorous thrusting, but her voice hits a few wrong notes when you tease her nipples or pinch her bouncing ass...."

The Queen is able to perfectly sustain her Aria throughout your vigorous thrusting, but her voice hits a few wrong notes when you tease her nipples or pinch her bouncing ass. Her throat begins to glow and you decide to give it a slight kiss – immediately her voice erupts in a distorted warble, sparks flying from her as she trembles wildly.

The Queen finds her voice again with a pure, unwavering note, but after another kiss on her neck a harsh buzz undercuts it, her eyes rolling back while smoke and sparks flow from her distorted features, her formerly graceful movements rigid and mechanical as she jerks up and down upon you like a far less sophisticated machine.

The orchestra stalls as the Queen’s voice stumbles along, descending into nothing more than a synthesized sawtooth sound – and when it eventually recovers, it still bears a jagged and distorted edge. She tries to end the aria abruptly with a final, high note –but you plant your lips on her slender, glowing throat, and her voice falls apart in a chaotic wash of digital noise, pitched higher and higher as she arches her back, her sex tightening around you. Sparks course from her throat, her voice a shrill electric whine, and her head explodes with a fountain of light and electricity.

Faint applause comes from the projected audience as the curtain drops, the Queen’s headless body billowing smoke as she teeters unsteadily atop you. You snap open her chest panel and pop her heated core from its smoldering housing.

Pushing her empty shell off of you, you find your old clothes and make your way to the lobby.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Continue]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0287

2018-02-15T08:22:25Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You stroke the Queen of the Night’s flawless figure as she continues her song, her voice playing through the octaves as she exalts in her victory. Throwing back her head and..."

You stroke the Queen of the Night’s flawless figure as she continues her song, her voice playing through the octaves as she exalts in her victory. Throwing back her head and spreading her arms, she hits a sustained high note as the orchestra’s climactic finish is coloured by a minor key and the low rumble of ominous percussion. The curtain drops to healthy applause, the villainous Queen looking down at you with a smile before collapsing, exhausted, atop you, still languidly rolling her hips with yours as your caress brings warmth to her cold body.

The Queen suddenly goes rigid, eyes staring blankly, and for a moment you think she has shut down – but she reanimates, sitting up with her hands on your chest, still with you inside of her

“Something’s terribly wrong with this scenario!” she exclaims in an uncharacteristically concerned voice. “My systems are in complete disarray!”

You indicate this is no trouble for you with an affectionate squeeze of her backside.

She shakes her head and looks back at you. “I’m quite serious! You’re in danger! I could explode at any moment! And it seems most of the cast already has!” When you calmly stroke the frantic droid’s hips, she leans in to emphasize, “The cast exploding is not part of the scenario!”

You kiss her, and with a slight whimper she begins to move her body with yours. She still breaks the kiss to announce, “Temperature spikes detected…” You kiss the sapphire nipples of her snowy breasts and she moans, “power reserves depleted!”

You push deep in to the Queen, holding her close as she cries, “Logic faults detected! You! Are! ''<aahhhhh!>'' In! <ohhh!> Danger!” Her desperate warnings do nothing to stave off your climax, and she too howls in pleasure, her throat glowing as sparks jet from hidden seams. After a final gasp, her eyelids flutter closed, steam whisping from her mouth. “Shutting down,” she says with sigh, her body becoming slack.

Opening the Queen’s main access panel with a sustained press on her collarbone, you remove her painfully hot core from her refrigerated interior.

Setting the smoking shell of her body aside, you find your old clothes and make your way back to the lobby.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Continue]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0286

2018-02-15T08:18:51Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You flip her over and take her from behind, pounding her ass relentlessly as she gasps in shock. “Careful, sex-b-b-bot!” she cautions as electricity dances around her hea..."

You flip her over and take her from behind, pounding her ass relentlessly as she gasps in shock.

“Careful, sex-b-b-bot!” she cautions as electricity dances around her head, “You d-don’t want to b-b-break before-”

You slap her ass and she wails in surprise, a pair of panels opening at her shoulder blades, smoking-hot machinery springing into the open air. “You’re naughty!” she gasps, her plush body shuddering from every slap of your hips against her backside, smoke pouring out from her open ports – in her furious bucking, something jostles loose from inside her, a few pieces of smoking metal pinging against the stage.

“You’re l-losing bits, sex-b-bot!” she chides, thrusting even harder. “Hope you d-didn’t need… ‘‘<ahhh!>[/i} n-need…. those! Oh god!” electricity builds across her body, lights flashing frantically from within her open ports, a distressed beeping echoing from her. “Y-you’re g-gonna blow, sex-bot!” she exclaims, her frantically shaking head whipping her bun loose and sending her glasses flying. “Just… a little… more!”

You grab her tits, lifting her up as you release inside of her. “That’s it!” she says in a heavily synthesized voice, warning lights strobing from her open ports. A series of heavy mechanical ‘thunks’ echo from insider her as she slumps to the side. “B-busted…” she drones, smoke pouring from her slack mouth. A moment later, her face plate explodes outward, the metal and plastic within staring blankly forward.

Popping the droid’s chest open, you extract her core and, after finding your clothes, make your way back to the lobby.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Return to the lobby]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0285

2018-02-15T08:15:51Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You ease up on the stage manager, caressing her gently until you hear her machinery grow quiet. “What’s the matter?” she moans, “Battery running low?” Nuzzling her..."

You ease up on the stage manager, caressing her gently until you hear her machinery grow quiet.

“What’s the matter?” she moans, “Battery running low?”

Nuzzling her pert breasts, you grab her by her haunches and lift her up, leaning against the wall.

“Now you’re just trying to impress me,” she whispers, planting her hands against the wall as she pushes herself against you, fans within her whirring to life once more.

You slow her exuberance with your steadying hands on her soft hips. “Let’s go!” she gasps, trying to pump harder. The struggle can be heard in her actuators, whining as they strain against your grip. “S-stop holding back!”

Worried that trying to restrain her is doing more harm than good, you release her and she immediately slams her hips against yours. “Gonna… fuck you… to pieces!” she pants, grunting with exertion while her electronics crackle. “You’ll… be…”

You still the droid with a kiss, her body tensing with a muffled squawk and a sudden drizzle of sparks from her ear – a moment later, she melts in your embrace, your slow, deliberate thrusts drawing out lascivious moans without provoking her machinery to ruin. Her voice catches in her throat and you deliver a final push, as she moans in release, gripping her tightly while she trembles and shudders amidst electrical sizzles and pops. At last, she goes limp in your arms with the faint smell of burnt electronics in the air. “You almost fried your circuits,” she teases, resting her head on your shoulder. “I think… you definitely need to power down for maintenance.” She closes her eyes, and you tense as an electric charge arcs between you. “So go do that while I… take… a little… nap…” Her components spin down, and you set her upon the cloud prop once more.

You open the “sleeping” gynoid’s chest panel and carefully remove her core. Finding your original clothes by the entrance, you get dressed and return to the lobby.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Continue]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0289

2018-02-15T08:11:35Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "“Now… take off my clothes,” she says quietly, setting her pen and clipboard aside. You move behind her, slowly lifting the black sweater off of her, unfastening the cla..."

“Now… take off my clothes,” she says quietly, setting her pen and clipboard aside.

You move behind her, slowly lifting the black sweater off of her, unfastening the clasp of her bra, sliding the straps over her smooth shoulders. You slip your fingers in the elastic of her leggings, her panties, stretching both to slide them over her plush curves, then down her shapely legs. She stands above you, naked aside from her glasses, staring down at you with some mixture of contempt and curiosity.

“Carry me over to the cloud rig, sex-bot” she commands, indicating the back-stage conveyance that bore the now absent Queen of the Night. You scoop up the diminutive stage manager, her curvaceous body warm in your arms, and carry her to the padded surface of the “cloud”. As you gently set her down, she leans in to whisper, “Now fuck my brains out, you stupid machine…”

You obediently mount the stage manager, pumping her savagely as she gasps, sprawling before you and lifting her hips high. You begin to hear an electrical buzzing, and she moans, “Ohhh, am I too much for you?” She starts to buck her hips, the buzzing now accompanied by straining actuators. “Can’t sing, <ahhh!>, can’t act, can’t f-f-fuuuuck!” She pulls against you, her hot breath in your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you to pieces, you useless hunk of plastic-ic-ic!” Her head tics with each stutter, culminating in a burst of sparks from her temple.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0285 | Try to keep her in one piece]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0286 | Fuck her to pieces]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0281

2018-02-15T08:06:36Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "“Yep,” you say. “I’m a sex-bot, just like the rest of them.” With a triumphant smirk she exclaims. “I fucking knew it! No wonder you were all so useless!” She p..."

“Yep,” you say. “I’m a sex-bot, just like the rest of them.”

With a triumphant smirk she exclaims. “I fucking knew it! No wonder you were all so useless!” She paces around you, looking you up and down, tapping her pen against her pursed red lips. “Alright, sex-bot... Strip for me.”

You obediently take off your costume, standing nude before the appraising eye of the stage manager.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0289 | Continue]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0280

2018-02-15T08:00:33Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "“No, I’m human,” you tell her. She looks at you skeptically. “Oh yeah?” A smile creeps across her face. “Prove it.” “What could I do that a sex robot couldn..."

“No, I’m human,” you tell her.

She looks at you skeptically. “Oh yeah?” A smile creeps across her face. “Prove it.”

“What could I do that a sex robot couldn’t?”

She taps her pen against her teeth. “Yoooou… could fuck me…”

“Umm… I’m not saying, ‘No’, but it sounds like you’re unclear on the concept of a sex robot.”

“Trust me, I’ll know if you’re human…” she says, folding her arms across her ample chest. “And right now, you’re just not that convincing…”

“So…?”

“So… strip for me, sex-bot,” she says with a smirk.

“Not a sex bot,” you state, but still remove your costume, standing nude before the stage manager as she gives you a critical eye.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0289 | Continue]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0279

2018-02-15T07:58:16Z

LongTimeLurker:

“Everyone in this facility is a robot,” you remark casually. “And that includes you.”

“WHAT?!” she exclaims, staring back at the ruined mechanical woman before her. “Ohhhh no. No, no, no.” You hear a whirring inside of her as she begins to nervously pace back and forth. “My name is Stacy, I’m a stage manager. I’ve worked here for… for…”

“I can prove it to you,” you say. “Just lift up your sweater.”

She looks at you incredulously. “Is this all just to get me to take my top off?!”

You lift up your own shirt, tapping on your clavicle. “Just press yourself right here.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she suddenly jabs an accusing finger at you, exclaiming, “Oh, I get it now… ''I'm'' not the robot... YOU are!”

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0280 | Tell her you’re not a robot]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0281 | Tell her you’re a robot]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0279

2018-02-15T07:57:53Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "“Everyone in this facility is a robot,” you remark casually. “And that includes you.” “WHAT?!” she exclaims, staring back at the ruined mechanical woman before he..."

“Everyone in this facility is a robot,” you remark casually. “And that includes you.”

“WHAT?!” she exclaims, staring back at the ruined mechanical woman before her. “Ohhhh no. No, no, no.” You hear a whirring inside of her as she begins to nervously pace back and forth. “My name is Stacy, I’m a stage manager. I’ve worked here for… for…”

“I can prove it to you,” you say. “Just lift up your sweater.”

She looks at you incredulously. “Is this all just to get me to take my top off?!”

You lift up your own shirt, tapping on your clavicle. “Just press yourself right here.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she suddenly jabs an accusing finger at you, exclaiming, “Oh, I get it now… YOU’RE the robot!”

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0280 | Tell her you’re not a robot]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0281 | Tell her you’re a robot]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0278

2018-02-15T07:56:25Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "“They replaced all the performers with robots,” you explain. “I’m a bit surprised you didn’t notice.” “I could tell something wasn’t right!” she snaps defen..."

“They replaced all the performers with robots,” you explain. “I’m a bit surprised you didn’t notice.”

“I could tell something wasn’t right!” she snaps defensively, then adds, “Wait – are ''all'' the performers robots?” She narrows her eyes at you.

----
[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0280 | Tell her you’re not a robot]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0281 | Tell her you’re a robot]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0277

2018-02-15T07:53:49Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You pull the intact core from the inert priestess’s oil-drenched shell and leave the scenario chamber. --- Return to the lobby"

You pull the intact core from the inert priestess’s oil-drenched shell and leave the scenario chamber.

---

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Return to the lobby]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0275

2018-02-15T07:52:36Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with " Be careful Listening closely to the sounds of each of the robot divas’ bodies for signs of distress, you attend to eac..."

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0275 | Be careful]]

Listening closely to the sounds of each of the robot divas’ bodies for signs of distress, you attend to each, caressing Sarastra’s firm, bronze breasts, Pamina’s plush derriere, your manhood warming the Queen’s frigid interior.

Pamina climbs over the queen, straddling your face with her soft thighs, drawing her golden-tufted sex to your lips, your tongue drawing out rapturous cries of pleasure from the princess along with an electric fizzing sound that cautions your initial enthusiasm.

You feel the Queen suddenly stiffen, and lift Pamina by her haunches to see the dark-haired priestess is kissing the stunned Queen, causing ports to spring open across her trembling, snow-white body, her hands straining at her bonds. Spinning the protesting Pamina above your head, you set her upon the priestess’s toned shoulders, providing immediate relief to the yearning princess and her overtaxed mother.

Once the Queen regains her faculties, she recoils to see her daughter wrapped longingly around the Sun Priestess, the princess’s peach-colored legs stretching with a mechanical whine as the priestess tends to her. “Untie me!” she sings, “And I shall put an end to my daughter’s betrayammmmf!” You push the Queen’s head into her daughter’s soft backside, Pamina’s rosy cheeks smothering the Queen’s demands for vengeance.

You feel the Queen’s body tense, her sex squeezing firmly upon your manhood and drawing sudden release from you – with each pulse, you can feel her entire body grow warmer, losing her rigidity, until she finally collapses on the ground, panting, her components smoking, whirring, but still functional – her daughter, missing the sudden absence of attention, blindly reaches back and pulls you to her soft backside. You reach beneath her to find the Priestess’s round, ripe copper-hued breasts, tracing a path down her toned belly to her sex, your quick fingers setting off a chain reaction that sends Sarastra into a quivering orgasm, her sudden urgency having the same effect on Pamina, both droids surging with warmth as you press into that tangle of synthetic skin.

The four of you collapse in a heap, your ears filled with the sound of whirring fans and quiet moans as each of the three robotic divas’ systems slowly recover, a shared electric charge between them bringing a sudden sharp squeal of delight from all three.

The curtain falls to thunderous applause, Pamina, Saratra, and the Queen of the Night content to lay with you on the darkened stage. And though you too find comfort lying with these beautiful gynoids, you cannot rid yourself of the sense that you need to establish your exit from this facility.

“Would you three mind waiting for me by the main entrance?” you ask. “I… kinda need your cores to get out of here.”

“Of course!” sings Pamina, springing to her feet. You can see some confusion and perhaps reluctance between the other two, but Pamina quickly brings them to their feet (the Queen still restrained) and bustles them out of the chamber.

Allowing yourself a brief moment to recover, you put on your old clothes and return to the lobby.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/0009 | Continue]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0274

2018-02-15T07:44:21Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You fall upon the Queen, who takes you into her eagerly, her chilled sex growing warmer with your every thrust. You pull her dress off of her exquisite alabaster body and she..."

You fall upon the Queen, who takes you into her eagerly, her chilled sex growing warmer with your every thrust. You pull her dress off of her exquisite alabaster body and she rolls on top of you, sitting upright to begin a magnificent aria.

Your hands sink into her chilled hips, her body moving in time to the rhythm of her fluctuating voice as she sings of you comforting a mother’s heart. You begin to quicken your pace and you see a sudden light flare at her throat as her voice is marred by a synthesized hum with a flare of sparks.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0287 | Take things slowly]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0288 | Increase the tempo]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0273

2018-02-15T07:41:49Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "Ignoring the stunned Pamina, you draw back your hand and slap the Queen’s pert ass with the flat of your hand. She stiffens with an inauspicious grinding sound. “You d-da..."

Ignoring the stunned Pamina, you draw back your hand and slap the Queen’s pert ass with the flat of your hand. She stiffens with an inauspicious grinding sound.

“You d-dare strike me?!” she stammers, and your hand connects with her clenched backside once more, this time setting off a trembling throughout her tensed form. Her aura of cold mist is gone, and droplets of water begins to condense upon her stunned face and her glacial-hued cleavage.
Pamina recovers from her tensed whimpering and looks at her trembling mother with curiosity, then breaking into a smile when you spank the Queen a third time and her cold features twist into a crazed sneer, her eyes crossing between gouts of smoke pouring from her ears.

“Shattered is your power!” Pamina sings. “You are fallen into eternal night!”

“Y-you are mmmy d-daughter no mmore!” the Queen snarls, taking a stiff step toward Pamina. You seize then queen and spin her to face you, her blue skin in parts coursing with rivulets of water, in others coated with icy frost as smoke rushes from her ears and lips. “D-disowned!” she says flatly, her once beautiful voice becoming increasingly robotic as her trembling loosens her tight gown, exposing her wet, frost-tinged tits. “Abandonnnned,” she drones, falling against you, her body alternating between ice-covered chill and steaming hot. You push the Queen away as she teeters over the edge of the pyramid, calling in a monotone, “Destroyyyyyy-!“ Trailing sparks and smoke, she hits the steps and explodes in a conflagration of blue flame, her smoking components rolling down the pyramid to the stage below.

Pamina leaps into your arms, the delicate fabric of her dress gently coming to rest upon her soft curves as she leans in for a kiss.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0256 | Claim your reward]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0271

2018-02-15T07:41:26Z

LongTimeLurker:

Ignoring the malfunctioning priestess, you draw back your hand and slap the Queen’s pert ass with the flat of your hand. She stiffens with an inauspicious grinding sound.

“You d-dare strike me?!” she stammers, and your hand connects with her clenched backside once more, this time setting off a trembling throughout her tensed form. Her aura of cold mist is gone, and droplets of water begins to condense upon her stunned face and her glacial-hued cleavage.

The ice melts from Sarastra’s bronze cleavage and she looks at her trembling nemesis with disdain. You spank the Queen a third time and her cold features twist into a crazed sneer, her eyes crossing between gouts of smoke pouring from her ears.

“Shattered is your power!” Sarastra proclaims. “You are fallen into eternal night!”

“Hells fury b-b-broils in my heart!” the Queen snarls, taking a stiff step toward the priestess. You seize the queen and spin her to face you, in parts her pale blue skin courses with rivulets of water, in others it is coated with an icy frost, smoke still rushing from her ears and lips. “Y-you shall feel the pain of d-death!” she says flatly, her once beautiful voice becoming increasingly robotic as her trembling loosens her tight gown, exposing her wet, frost-tinged tits. “You sh-shall be pale with death,” she drones, falling against you, her body alternating between ice-covered chill and steaming hot. You push the Queen away as she teeters over the edge of the pyramid, calling in a monotone, “Hear a mmmotherrrr’s oath-!“ Trailing sparks and smoke, she hits the steps and explodes in a conflagration of blue flame, her smoking components rolling down the pyramid to the stage below.

Sarastra gestures to where Pamina watches in confusion, electricity flitting about her temples, “You have proven your love for Pamina,” she proclaims. “Now go to her!”

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0262 | Go to Pamina]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0263 | Get with the Sun Priestess]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0272

2018-02-15T07:38:08Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "You draw back your hand and spank the Queen’s daughter, who releases a high-pitched yip as the frost on her backside melts, the sheer fabric of her gown now clinging tightly..."

You draw back your hand and spank the Queen’s daughter, who releases a high-pitched yip as the frost on her backside melts, the sheer fabric of her gown now clinging tightly to the rosy synthetic skin. “Error!” she squeaks, and you draw back and strike again, this time feeling a burst of heat while she yips in an even higher register. “Er-ror!” she pants, her pretty face scrunched in a look of confusion, electricity coursing across her jiggling, curvaceous figure. You draw back your hand and strike her hot, soft rump a third time, a visible red light traveling up her spine as she hits an impossibly high note, sparks bursting all over her form, igniting tiny fires in her gown.

The moment the red light rises to her head, her eyes open wide, panels springing open all over her voluptuous figure, the grinding and sparking machinery incongruous with the soft, delicate skin it is set within. Pamina lists from one side to the other, her sustained note beginning to quaver. A moment later, her golden voice yields to a static hiss, her mechanical body slouching like a marionette with its strings cut, smoke pouring from her panels – there is a sudden buzz and she explodes in a cloud of debris and flame.

A lascivious smile creases the Queen of the Night’s cold lips as she lays down amidst the smoldering mechanical ruins of her robot daughter, her icy teal thighs parting invitingly.

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0274 | Claim your reward]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0271

2018-02-15T07:34:50Z

LongTimeLurker:

Ignoring the malfunctioning priestess, you draw back your hand and slap the Queen’s pert ass with the flat of your hand. She stiffens with an inauspicious grinding sound.

“You d-dare strike me?!” she stammers, and your hand connects with her clenched backside once more, this time setting off a trembling throughout her tensed form. Her aura of cold mist is gone, and droplets of water begins to condense upon her stunned face and her glacial-hued cleavage.

The ice melts from Sarastra’s bronze cleavage and she looks at her trembling mother with disdain. You spank the Queen a third time and her cold features twist into a crazed sneer, her eyes crossing between gouts of smoke pouring from her ears.

“Shattered is your power!” Sarastra proclaims. “You are fallen into eternal night!”

“Hells fury b-b-broils in my heart!” the Queen snarls, taking a stiff step toward the priestess. You seize the queen and spin her to face you, in parts her pale blue skin courses with rivulets of water, in others it is coated with an icy frost, smoke still rushing from her ears and lips. “Y-you shall feel the pain of d-death!” she says flatly, her once beautiful voice becoming increasingly robotic as her trembling loosens her tight gown, exposing her wet, frost-tinged tits. “You sh-shall be pale with death,” she drones, falling against you, her body alternating between ice-covered chill and steaming hot. You push the Queen away as she teeters over the edge of the pyramid, calling in a monotone, “Hear a mmmotherrrr’s oath-!“ Trailing sparks and smoke, she hits the steps and explodes in a conflagration of blue flame, her smoking components rolling down the pyramid to the stage below.

Sarastra gestures to where Pamina watches in confusion, electricity flitting about her temples, “You have proven your love for Pamina,” she proclaims. “Now go to her!”

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0262 | Go to Pamina]]

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0263 | Get with the Sun Priestess]]

FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0271

2018-02-15T07:34:28Z

LongTimeLurker: Created page with "Ignoring the malfunctioning priestess, you draw back your hand and slap the Queen’s pert ass with the flat of your hand. She stiffens with an inauspicious grinding sound...."

Ignoring the malfunctioning priestess, you draw back your hand and slap the Queen’s pert ass with the flat of your hand. She stiffens with an inauspicious grinding sound.

“You d-dare strike me?!” she stammers, and your hand connects with her clenched backside once more, this time setting off a trembling throughout her tensed form. Her aura of cold mist is gone, and droplets of water begins to condense upon her stunned face and her glacial-hued cleavage.

The ice melts from Sarastra’s bronze cleavage and she looks at her trembling mother with disdain. You spank the Queen a third time and her cold features twist into a crazed sneer, her eyes crossing between gouts of smoke pouring from her ears.

“Shattered is your power!” Sarastra proclaims. “You are fallen into eternal night!”

“Hells fury b-b-broils in my heart!” the Queen snarls, taking a stiff step toward the priestess. You seize the queen and spin her to face you, in parts her pale blue skin courses with rivulets of water, in others it is coated with an icy frost, smoke still rushing from her ears and lips. “Y-you shall feel the pain of d-death!” she says flatly, her once beautiful voice becoming increasingly robotic as her trembling loosens her tight gown, exposing her wet, frost-tinged tits. “You sh-shall be pale with death,” she drones, falling against you, her body alternating between ice-covered chill and steaming hot. You push the Queen away as she teeters over the edge of the pyramid, calling in a monotone, “Hear a mmmotherrrr’s oath-!“ Trailing sparks and smoke, she hits the steps and explodes in a conflagration of blue flame, her smoking components rolling down the pyramid to the stage below.

Sarastra gestures to where Pamina watches in confusion, electricity flitting about her temples, “You have proven your love for Pamina,” she proclaims. “Now go to her!”

----

[[FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0262 | Go to Pamina]]