A very silly story about very horny robots.
guest story by zyzzyva
tags: nsfw, robot
Dr. Carole Korsinsky (PhD biocybernetics, Brown, 2038) was hard at work. A fresh batch of protocomponents had completed their assembly and growth, and it was down to her and her colleagues to ensure that each and every one was ready to serve the Machine.
The component a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce completed her inspection of the new protocomponent 5ba33efe-3e10-47c4-acb4-a8290391607f currently in the lab. Dr. Korsinsky and her other colleague, the component e0dc4d68-72f9-468f-8217-bcbf7782a662, had been carefully monitoring on their terminals at the desk across from the inspection suite. The tests had been positive: 5ba33efe-3e10-47c4-acb4-a8290391607f was ready to become a true component of the Machine. a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce stood up from where she had been straddling him, and he walked stiffly out of the lab towards his glorious new future of service to the Machine.
a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce walked back towards the control desk, the clack of her tall red heels in perfect time with the slap of 5ba33efe-3e10-47c4-acb4-a8290391607f’s bare feet, with the pulse of the Machine. Her lab coat had come loose, revealing the smooth skin of her torso and her hot pink lingerie; her face was flushed from the inspection. It was a clinical process, but also a deeply intimate one. The Machine controlled with lust and rewarded with pleasure, and above all was simply horny, and so all of the Machine’s components were horny too. It made Dr. Korsinsky’s nips hard just thinking about the perfection of the system: a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce’s hot body and deeply bound synthetic mind, controlling and controlled at the same moment. Dr. Korsinsky would have gasped with joy, but she was working; instead she ground up on the desk, in time with e0dc4d68-72f9-468f-8217-bcbf7782a662 doing the same.
a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce returned to her station at the desk. It was Dr. Korsinsky’s turn next—they cycled off inspections in order, and it hadn’t exactly taken a woman with a doctorate long to figure out the pattern—but she didn’t move from behind the desk. It was important to the smooth functioning of the Machine that everything move in time, the Machine’s many components and her alike. After an interval, the next protocomponent 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe entered the lab. She walked calmly towards the inspection suite, her heels clicking across the tile, and reached it just as 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe sat down.
Dr. Korsinsky straddled him, her labcoat spreading with her thighs, revealing a lacy pink g-string of her own, pressed up against his tight white shorts. She could feel his massive bioengineered erection swelling through the fabric, but it wasn’t the part of the inspection where she was required to consider that, so she ignored it except for rhythmically grinding herself against him. Instead, she picked up the sticky electrode pads lying beside them and carefully pressed them one at a time onto his body. Each placed with perfect precision, and then each firmly pressed onto him with a long, firm stroke of her glossy red-nailed fingers, and each motion exactly synchronized with a rhythmic slide of her hips over his.
She sat back up. 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe watched her blankly and apparently emotionlessly, but she could feel his cock throbbing with desire beneath her. “Let’s go,” she said, like she did with every protocomponent, and stood up off of him.
He started to stand to follow. She placed one hand gently on his chest, and then shoved him hard back down into the chair. Behind her, her colleagues typed mechanically away as they examined the data pouring out of the electrodes and the neural filaments that his cultured brain tissue had been grown around. Everything was to specification, so far.
She walked around him, long strides in her tall heels, and dragged his head to watch her ass; her nails dug just a little into the flesh of his face. When she was behind him, she squatted down and draped her arms over his shoulders, fingertips gently stroking his firm abs. His body was too fresh to have ever exercised, but his musculature was pussy-wettingly perfect, as it had been designed to be. She checked it anyways, running her hands over his pecs, his delts, his abs, feeling each perfect inch of his chest. At the end, as she and her colleagues always did, she slipped the fingers of her right hand under his waistband and brushed his thick rod of a cock. His head snapped back and her head snapped back in perfect time to avoid being struck, even as a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce and e0dc4d68-72f9-468f-8217-bcbf7782a662 looked up at the exact right time to watch her fondle him. She ground her wet, increasingly eager crotch against the back of the chair as they did the same to the desk.
She abruptly stood back up, her sharp nails raking four perfectly parallel red lines up 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe’s taut abdomen, a mark of approval of his physique. As the Machine had designed, as the Machine needed. Now the inspection of his psyche. She completed her circuit of the chair, her steps still perfectly even and in time, and stood in front of him, legs wide, hands on hips.
“Who are you,” she asked.
“Ivan Burke,” 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe said, mechanically. Dr. Korsinsky was inwardly smug. The components were mostly human, physiologically, and each had been programmed to think itself human, but only superficially. ‘Ivan Burke’ had no past, and could not be made to care about that. Not like Dr Korsinsky, who remembered clearly every detail of her thirty-five days six hours and eighteen minutes working in the final inspection lab, or the ninety days working with the neurofilament growth process before that, or the ninety days working with the gestation tanks before that, or the ninety days working in the final inspection lab before that, or the ninety days working with the neurofilament growth process before that, or the ninety days working with the gestation tanks before that, or the many and varied human activities she had performed outside the Machine before that.
“What is your purpose,” she asked, not letting her thoughts interrupt the smooth flow of the inspection program.
“To serve the Machine,” said 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe. He, a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce, e0dc4d68-72f9-468f-8217-bcbf7782a662, and Dr Korsinsky all gasped in perfect ecstatic synchronicity at this vocalization of all of their deepest desires. Dr. Korsinsky undid the belt of her labcoat and declared “Yes. We serve the Machine.”
Even as the four of them gasped in unison again, 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe bucked his hips at her in lust. She neatly moved away: protocomponents did not get to have release from her teasing. But it was now time to check out his package properly, for the Machine. Oh yes, swollen and throbbing and huge, pulling the shorts far from his waist, the tip leaking hot salty desperate precum by the second. Just like her pussy was juicing into her own tight pink panties. The inspection suite smelled like sex; smelled like service to the Machine.
But there was more to do first. She had to ensure that all of 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe’s reactions to the Machine’s teasingly sexual control were right. She straddled him again, not sitting on his lap this time but hovering above him. She slowly and sensually rolled her hips; his eyes stayed locked on her crotch. She put her hands on his, slim and soft and lacquered on hard and broad and strong, grabbed them, pulled them to her hips. He squeezed in time with her gyrations, or maybe she moved in time with his grip; it didn’t matter. She knew her colleagues were typing in time behind her, and they were grinding up on the desk with the exact same motions at the exact same time as she was teasing the protocomponent. All were moving with the rhythm of the Machine.
She spun on his crotch, her thigh almost by accident but with smooth deliberation catching his shorts and finally tugging them free of his raging cock entirely. She was facing her two colleagues now, and all three of them licked their lips, sensually, left-to-right, as one
She could see the lust smouldering in their eyes as they watched her continue testing 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe. She grabbed his hands and in one smooth motion put them on her tits. Her nipples were so hard it almost hurt. He groped her breasts, hard, just the way she wanted, as she slid her pantied ass up and down along his rod.
She twisted on his lap again, and as she did so popped the hidden metal snap that held her panties on; by the time she was facing him again, her fingers planted firmly on his chest and her long red thumbnails circling his nipples, her hot needy pussy was finally bare, feeling the heat and the need pouring out of his cock right up against it.
She leaned in, let her tongue slip through her slick red lips, licked around the curve of his ear as his fingers traced identical curves on her ass. (Out of sight behind her, her colleagues were teasing themselves against the desk again, pantied and lab-coated clits dragged against the edge with precisely the same three-quarter circle.) “Do you want to fuck me?” she asked 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe, low and close into his ear.
“Yes,” he agreed, exactly as required.
“Good,” she purred. “I need you to fuck me hard.” It was what she and her colleagues all said to every protocomponent at this stage of the inspection, the next step in the examination. But it was also what she wanted as much as she had ever wanted anything. She needed his cock inside her.
But the requirements of the inspection weren’t quite over yet. She lifted her hips, hovered her dripping wet cunt over his drooling rigid cock, and waited. He grabbed her hips, and after a moment he bucked his hips up; she half-stood at the exact same moment to keep her pussy just tantalizingly out of reach. He bucked again and she evaded again, her nails digging more into his shoulders as she teased. He bucked again and she let her whole weight drop back onto him, impaling herself in a glorious moment of pleasure that sent both their eyes rolling identically white.
She rolled her hips on him, muscles that only carefully bioengineered components and also Dr. Korsinsky would be capable of controlling so precisely squeezing and pleasing his massive cock. His cock, meanwhile, perfectly designed to fill her and pound her in all the right spots, was filling her and pounding her and driving her to inhuman planes of ecstasy.
There was a barrier there, though, between her and the sweet release she needed so desperately. It was the same one that was there every time, and she didn’t even need to think to understand it: she was not yet finished with the inspection. So even as she fucked 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe like he had never been fucked in his brief existence, and her eyes fluttered and subverbal moans welled up in her throat, her hands roamed up and down his body, stroking and clawing and grabbing and groping, in a precise pattern designed to test him to his ecstatic limits.
It took a long time—quick enough when she was behind the desk watching a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce or e0dc4d68-72f9-468f-8217-bcbf7782a662 perform the exact same actions on a protocomponent of their own, but an eternity for her. Still, she worked with unstinting precision. She was close now, in every way, and the desire to complete this was driving her as hard as his cock was.
It was done. She knew it, and all the components in the room knew it at the exact same moment, and he came inside her hot and violent and filling even as her pussy clenched out of control for the first time in the entire session and the entire inside of her skull seemed to short circuit with ecstasy:
I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine I have served the Machine
She stood up abruptly and snapped her g-string back on. 1b732434-d37c-4166-bb2b-87bc6dfe11fe, a component of the Machine like any other, stood as well, pulled his white shorts up, and walked off to his new glorious new future of service to the Machine. Dr. Korsinsky walked back to her station at the desk, following exactly the footsteps of a96bdc2b-7d37-44ef-a052-1b87fe8641ce before her, the clack of her tall red heels in perfect time with the slap of 5ba33efe-3e10-47c4-acb4-a8290391607f’s bare feet, with the pulse of the Machine.
Dr. Korsinsky sometimes though what a lucky coincidence it had been that she had been there, a doctor of bioengineering in exactly the subfield needed to design and construct components, an oversexed pansexual with a taste for dominating and for being dominated by a faceless gestalt, at the exact moment the Machine needed all those things.
But then she always thought how much luckier she was, getting to serve the Machine.
Author’s Note: Like Every Day is a Miracle, this story is based on a music video that has nothing to do with the song and is, in this case, somehow even skeezier than Miracles despite having no actual nudity or sex. But it was fun when I was younger and still hits my buttons now, so what the hell, fanfic.
The key to writing this story, weirdly, was the one thing emphatically not in the original video: Dr. Korsinsky’s absurd self-image. I make no apologies for the oddity of that plot point, but it did make the whole very silly story come together for me.