Master's Journey: Automonic Protocol #6

Author's Note: We see a little of what's beneath C1-A's uniform, and she explores her newfound sense of individuality and sexuality while servicing her mistress.

With upcoming changes to Patreon this series will be slowing down until the end of this "scene" and then going on hiatus. The master tier is going under construction while I rework the page. There will be a major post coming soon to explain some changes and additions coming in June. If you're a fan of Automonic Protocol, however, don't worry -- this story isn't dying, just changing.

[fu/fu] [robot sex!] [anal] [cheating?]

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‭“Do I have what, mistress?” you ask softly after drawing your synthetic lips up and off of Clarissa’s shaft, licking the end of it delicately. “I have potential model modifications for various types of user satisfaction.”

“I just... it’s been so long since I’ve been... well, you know.” Her meaning might have been unclear to someone not designed to serve -- even if your feelings on your position in life are muddled, you are nonetheless programmed to read your owners, to know what they need even if they won’t tell you. The slight arch of Clarissa’s spine, the parting of her thighs, the way her breath catches in her chest. She wants to be fucked, and you can make that happen.

“Let me help you,” you whisper, pulling up from your position face-down in her lap and undoing the front lapel of your white latex suit, unveiling a bit of pale cleavage and traces of the mod-lines running across segments of your body, barely-visible grooves marking the anchor-points of your original assembly. The way Clarissa watches you as you undress is... exciting, a strange thrill shooting through you, though you find yourself uncertain of its source. You have no heart to race, no hairs on the back of your neck to raise. Your synthetic skin cannot form goosebumps. Yet you feel... enticing. Desired.

With your vest loosened but not yet removed, you lower your fingers to your latex pants and unfasten them, willing the smooth skin-plate between your thighs to adjust and extend an internal appendage. A penis in all senses but reproductive viability, an aesthetic mirror to the “real” thing if not necessarily convincing as organic. Like much of your design choices, elements of your manufacture are readily visible so as to prevent unwanted... integration.

“...You’re beautiful,” Clarissa says softly, her dark, oceanic eyes now taking you in like she’s only now seeing you for the first time. She swallows hard, scooting up against the headboard of the bed and spreading her legs a little more, showing off the delicate entrance of her backside an inch or so below her smooth, snug balls. “I... I want you to....”

“I understand,” you whisper back, climbing up onto the bed and crawling closer to her, planting your lips softly against hers as you guide your thick, mechanical shaft towards her sensitive cave, your tip excreting a trickle of high-quality lubricant that you spread along your length by gently, yet insistently grinding against her back entrance. “You don’t have to say anything.” The clear, slick gel spreads across her taint and backside, even smearing a bit along her sack before your cock is glistening enough to enter her.

“Aa-oooh... aaaAaahh...!” Clarissa gasps, her back arching sharply as she bucks up into you, pressing her soft breasts into your chest as she relishes every instant of your rod easing inside of her ass. She trembles and winces, then relaxes, and you can feel her hard cock throbbing against your belly as you enter her, spreading the woman’s own organic precum along the underside of your uniform jacket. “Ohfuckyes... i-it’s going so deep... oh fuck I can’t believe I’m...” she trails off, biting her lower lip hard and letting out another desperate whimper as you push deeper, then gradually ease back, taking in every small sensation of her slick insides clenching, rippling, and relaxing around you.

You tilt your head to the side, kissing her throat, one hand expertly trailing along her bare side to cup her breast, twiddling one stiff nipple between your first and middle finger to make the redhead squirm even more. You ease back, then in again, then back, your motions torturously, mathematically consistent. You don’t just find a rhythm, you enforce one, and find those sparks of excitement and pleasure that you felt before growing stronger. It isn’t just her enjoyment that you appreciate, but your own -- your subdermal sensory array is absorbing information in an all new way, not processing it but relishing it, like your programs have been hijacked by another consciousness entirely. The question is, if not your own systems, what are you using to feel her? What’s wrong with you... and why does it feel so good?

You hold carefully to her, close enough that she can cling to your room-temperature form, which she eagerly does. Continuing to dot kisses along her soft skin, you smother her cheek, throat, shoulder, and collarbone with brushes of your smooth lips while you thrust into her, angling your hips upward so that each forward pump squeezes the tip of your robotic dick against her prostate, being certain to slide almost entirely free of her before each new thrust so that you can properly stimulate her pleasure-torus. Each cry of ecstasy you seize as an opportunity to push a little deeper, truly filling her tight, spasming asshole with your synthetic cock.

“So good... so good... ohfuckohfuck it’s going so deep... hahhhhhhshiiit...!!” Clarissa wails out, clenching her teeth in an attempt to muffle her intensifying yelps of delight. Her eyes flicker to the bedroom door, likely anticipating that the twins will hear, but you lunge into her and silence her with another kiss, seizing both her voice and her attention. The room now fills only with the sound of muffled gasps and whimpers, of the squelching of your thick girlcock up her tight backdoor, and of your hips pummeling the supple flesh of her butt.

You feel her tremble, and know what comes next -- her cock surges between the two of you, blasting out a creamy load of seed that fans out across her own stomach and between her breasts, also leaving a sticky coating along your uniform as she spasms again and again, fully screaming out her anal climax against your comforting lips and probing tongue. Jolts of bliss shake her to her core before finally, after what feels like about a full forty-five seconds of climaxing, she relaxes... arms wound around you, trembling.

1) Strip out of your soiled uniform and cuddle with her, teasing your cock gently back and forth against hers.

2) Strip out of your soiled uniform and insist that ‘playtime’ continue -- you need more of this sensation.

3) Apologize and offer to clean up the bed so that nothing’s discovered, then leave.

4) Other (comment)