FYOP/Scenario Chamber/A Night at the Opera/0289
“Now… take off my clothes,” she says quietly, setting her pen and clipboard aside.
You move behind her, slowly lifting the black sweater off of her, unfastening the clasp of her bra, sliding the straps over her smooth shoulders. You slip your fingers in the elastic of her leggings, her panties, stretching both to slide them over her plush curves, then down her shapely legs. She stands above you, naked aside from her glasses, staring down at you with some mixture of contempt and curiosity.
“Carry me over to the cloud rig, sex-bot” she commands, indicating the back-stage conveyance that bore the now absent Queen of the Night. You scoop up the diminutive stage manager, her curvaceous body warm in your arms, and carry her to the padded surface of the “cloud”. As you gently set her down, she leans in to whisper, “Now fuck my brains out, you stupid machine…”
You obediently mount the stage manager, pumping her savagely as she gasps, sprawling before you and lifting her hips high. You begin to hear an electrical buzzing, and she moans, “Ohhh, am I too much for you?” She starts to buck her hips, the buzzing now accompanied by straining actuators. “Can’t sing, <ahhh!>, can’t act, can’t f-f-fuuuuck!” She pulls against you, her hot breath in your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you to pieces, you useless hunk of plastic-ic-ic!” Her head tics with each stutter, culminating in a burst of sparks from her temple.