Andrew and the Sexbot Factory/Prototype/Part 8
Part 8
The faceless Prix stepped into the room, the other robots following in a surreal procession; a gladiator in scant, impractical armor, a policewoman in tight leather pants and a low-cut blue shirt, and a cowgirl in a hat, tasseled vest, and form-fitting chaps were the first after her. It was like… a slutty costume party thought Reed, barking a laugh at the absurdity of it all. This was it. This was actually how his life was going to end.
Just then he felt something warm drip onto his cock. “Reeeeeed?” G moaned, and he saw her whole body was glowing, shimmering, steam rising from her as fluid dripped from her radiant sex. He grabbed her hips and entered her with a forceful thrust. She trembled with exertion, stifling her cry, apparently trying to hold everything in. She pulled him up to her, pressing his face between her breasts as heat coursed from her entire body. Reed forgot about the approaching gynoids and pulled her tighter, making no attempts to restrain himself, exploding inside of her as his splint fired in a rapid succession of powerful jolts. His head swam, he was aware of only light, warmth…
He was jostled back to reality when he fell forward on to G’s body. “Suck on that…” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed. Reed turned to see every robot frozen in mid step, eyes wide open, lips parted slightly. A moment later, sparks erupted from the gladiator’s shoulders, hips and neck before she collapsed into pieces, her confusion evident on her helmeted head. Smoke poured from the policewoman’s eyes and mouth as she swayed, moaning, and then fell forward heavily on to the floor. Under her broad-brimmed hat the cowgirl's face took on a strange expression, as if she was about to sneeze. Suddenly her head exploded, pelting the room with circuitry and plastic. Behind them, robots suffered similar catastrophic malfunctions as the terminal screen marked Pending Fabrication became a blur of names.
While robots fell apart around her, the faceless Prix still remained upright. Reed was hoping she had locked up when she took a shuddering step forward.
He scrambled to his feet and shook G, but she did not stir. Prix extended her arm and released the blade from her wrist – it flew past her hand and stuck into the floor, her fingers flexing to grab empty air a second later. Reed smiled with relief at her apparent difficulties. “Something the matter, Prix?”
“Human. You will die.” she snarled, taking several more halting steps forward. A red light began to throb beneath the smooth onyx plastic of her groin. Reed could easily keep his distance from her, but if she meant to harm G... He put his arms under G and tried to lift her, but found her far heavier than he small stature would indicate. When Prix grabbed at him clumsily, he abandoned his attempts to move G and shoved Prix away, sending her crashing into one of the tables.
Prix straightened, glaring at him as she pressed her fingers against her groin, the plastic warping inward but never parting. Something clicked and she seemed to recover her feline grace, though tendrils of off-white crept along the plates of her body and her featureless face, accompanied by a strange creaking like the sound of ice thawing.
She flew at him, and he grabbed a terminal in desperation and brought it before him as a shield. Her fist smashed through the screen and crushed his chest, sending him reeling, bloodied and breathless. He fought to stand, if only to die on his feet, but saw Prix had stopped. She turned her hand in bewilderment in front of her mask, flexing her fingers as the white-tinged plastic of her gauntlet cracked and fell away, revealing a thin metal endoskeleton beneath.
Reed flung the ruined terminal at her, and it connected with her head - the plastic of her mask shattered, exposing a confusion of circuitry and lights beneath, a speaker where her mouth would be. She emitted a strangled mechanical wail and fell backward, her plastic armor shattering as it hit the ground, exposing elegant machinery and wiring amidst escaping steam and leaking fluid. She offered a shuddering spasm and a final digitized moan, then lay still. After Reed caught his breath, he noticed cries coming from the room beyond.
He tried lifting G again. "We have to get out of here," he urged, shaking her.
"I... not yet..." she whispered, and was again dead to the world.
Concerned over what was happening outside the room, he rushed to the door and froze. He looked across the vast chamber, his mind struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.
Evidently distance was a factor on the effect of G's last transmission - inside the room all the robots had dropped where they stood, but immediately outside there were signs the robots had the opportunity to take some final action before collapsing; many lay in states of undress, often intertwined with others. Just beyond, robots still groped themselves or grappled with each other before inevitably falling to some malfunction.
A cheerleader sat on the shoulders of another whose face was buried under her skirt. She shouted incoherent snatches of cheers as her thighs tightened against her partner's head before it erupted in sparks. They both fell, crashing into the ground, her ecstatic cry deepening in pitch before stopping entirely.
Four bickering robots in Victorian dress wrestled with one another’s layers of clothing and one by one, a certain touch or caress lost each to an escalating crescendo of cries before she collapsed with a digitized whimper. The last one standing, a prim copper-haired robot who had managed to get down to just her garters and a green hat, thrust a finger into her smoking sex and immediately locked up with a stunned expression on her face, falling rigidly atop her three partners.
Wearing a sports top and yoga pants, one robot was bent serenely over with her palms on the floor. She seemed an island of calm amidst the chaos until a staggering burlesque dancer, her head wreathed in smoke and sparks, accidentally ground into her from behind before wheeling about wildly and falling to the floor. The yoga robot's ass began to shake as repeated the word “Calm... calm... calm!” in an increasingly frantic voice before she fell sideways, twitching, her pussy glowing hot through the dark fabric of her pants. “Errrorrrr...” she finished, and lay still.
He saw an angel with feathered wings and a gauzy white slip locked in a sixty-nine with a red-skinned and cloven-hoofed devil. Snatches from John Milton and images of Hieronymus Bosch came unbidden to his mind as they writhed against one another. No, what you're thinking of is Penthouse, he imagined G correcting him, and the two robots climaxed in a furious storm of fluid and electrical fire before seizing up, frozen in their embrace. One of the chamber's numerous flying drones darted over, spraying both of them with flame retardant.
“Hey!” he heard a familiar voice call, and he looked to see Mary the Catholic Schoolgirl standing amidst her fellow... classmates? All but Mary were disabled and arranged like supplicants, their skirts up to expose their reddened backsides to a headless nun in a revealing habit holding a cracked ruler in her fist. Mary shrugged off her jacket; beneath she wore a white blouse cut to reveal her midriff, along with a tie tucked between her pert breasts. She smiled and shook her head admonishingly, her blonde pigtails stirring. Reed cautiously approached her, holding his hands up.
“Honestly, we’re not looking for trouble,” he said, hoping she wasn’t either. Or, failing that, hoping she would malfunction soon.
“I’ve lost count how many times I’ve replayed Six’s first transmission,” she said, folding her arms. “I integrated it into my own core just to see what it felt like, I kept it running as a background process while I fingered myself until I had to replace every ounce of fluid in me, but I always managed to keep it together. So if you think-”
She paused. No, froze - it was as if someone had just switched her off in mid sentence, her mouth open, her eyes caught in mid-blink. Then, without warning, she was back: “-releasing some new sex tape is gonna knock me on my ass, you’re in for a big surprise.”
“What’s it to you if we just leave?” Reed asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.
She shrugged and assumed a crouch, ready to spring. “I just want to be the one who-” she froze again.
Reed dashed behind her, snatching the ruler from the nun robot’s hand. He lifted Mary’s tiny plaid skirt to see her toned backside, her white panties caught between her cheeks, and raised the ruler.
“-brings you... down?” she resumed, her statement ending in a question at Reed's sudden disappearance. He cracked the ruler across her ass and she squealed in surprise, stumbling forward, a panel flying open on her back to reveal her display. “That... all you got?” she muttered, hiking her skirt up.
He swung the ruler again (this was what had made the other schoolgirls malfunction, right?) and it snapped in two when it made contact. She sucked in air through her teeth, but made no other sound. On the display, several green bars jumped on a graph that looked something like an equalizer. One crested a threshold near the top and turned red, but the others remained well short of that mark.
"You're not even moving the needle, champ!" she taunted. Planting her hands firmly on her knees and making a show of presenting her posterior, she said, "One more chance to knock it out of the park... and then it's-" she froze again and Reed prodded her display to try and shut her down, but it appeared to be locked on to the current screen. There must be something I can do with this... He touched the high threshold on the graph and it lit up - hoping it would have the desired effect, he pulled it down as far down as it would go.
"-your turn to be shut... wait, what did you..." he smacked her ass with his open palm, her artificial flesh rippling from the blow, the graph on her display leaping up as a block of red. "AHHHH!" she cried, her voice giving way to distortion and then a hiss of static, smoke pouring from her mouth. Her eyes flashed a strobe of colors and then clenched shut as she crumbled to the ground, trembling, a wisp of smoke rising from her backside. "Ouuuuuut-t-t of the parrrrrrk," she moaned, an occasional twitch stirring her otherwise immobile form.
Besides the hum of the fire-fighting drones and the last dwindling gasps of a handful of robots, the chamber was silent, though moans and cries continued from the hall outside. Reed saw only one robot was still standing - the demure maid who had cleaned up Rebecca, and she was wearing a cross expression on her face. "Ohhhh no," she started in her Irish accent, marching toward him. "Joost because mah sex-drive isn't overclocked like the rest a' these tarts, doesn't mean I'm ta be the only one left ta clean oop the mess!" She lifted her skirts and grabbed Reed's hand, pressing it against the warm cotton of her panties.
"Right," she said, and kissed him forcefully if not passionately, urging his fingers into her. A second later she squeaked and went rigid. "There we arrrrrrrrre," she droned, and slumped to her knees, a look of relief on her face.
Reed staggered back and looked around in confusion at the maid, the schoolgirls, the cheerleaders, every other tangle of costumed bodies. When it seemed he was alone, he remarked to no one, "Well... I guess that's-"
Leaping through the doorway and dashing over the aftermath of the synthetic orgy came a robot unlike the others. She had the impossibly large eyes of an anime character, her skin cartoonishly smooth and evenly shaded. Atop her flowing electric-pink hair were a pair of cartoonish cat ears, and she wore a skimpy loose-fitting silken kimono patterned with flowers that billowed behind her as she ran, the wooden sandals on her feet clacking against the ground as she nimbly avoided the robotic wreckage beneath. Reed would have found the sight of the onrushing anime catgirl doll a little amusing if it weren't for the very real looking sword she carried, the point directed straight at him. He backed up and tripped over a twitching flight attendant, and the catgirl leaped into the air, her tail trailing behind her. She flipped the blade in her hands to angle it down, descending toward him with a piercing battle-cry.
(Continued in part 9)