The Haunted Manor

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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