CYOA: Fuck Yeah Space #12

Author's Notes: C wins with another sensuality vote! Time to shake things up and fuck the wrong target... but what kind of encounter are you really getting into, here?

[light smexiness]

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“Pray that’s all I am?” you say softly, smiling just a little. You’re not sure if your attempts to be coy are playing off all that well or not, but... it’s worth a shot. “Why’s that? Is that something you’d be... interested in?” You pull a little closer, arching one brow a little, biting your full, soft violet lower lip and letting it slowly drag away. Your eyes gaze down into the android’s, and her eyes meet yours with a blend of artificial ferocity and sudden curiosity.

“I do not have sufficient time or attention for dalliances,” the machine responds after a temptingly long pause, though her eyes don’t leave yours -- the intricate neon cerulean patterns within her irises rotate, interlock, and then expand, processing something major inside of her brain. “I am above simple urges of the flesh.”

She’s lying, you can tell. It’s interesting to see a robot lie, something you never thought you’d see, or was even possible, but it’s happening before you. You decide your best option is to press the issue. Moving a little closer to her, you press your stomach against the android’s, your breasts gently squishing into hers -- hers are certainly firmer than yours, though not hard, as you’d expected. Simply... foreign. “What are you doing,” she half-asks, half-states, visibly flustered now. It’s hard to tell if she has a real mind, real feelings, or if you’re somehow overloading her circuits. Nonetheless, her reaction certainly resembles someone getting sexually frustrated beyond their immediate control, like a virgin being taken advantage of for the first time.

“Lips that beautiful shouldn’t tell lies,” you whisper, quietly congratulating yourself for something that actually sounds like a real sentence instead of stumbling over yourself. For once. You hook one thumb behind the android’s ear, attempting to brush away the fine, scarlet “hair” that hangs nearly to her shoulders -- but find that it doesn’t move, can’t be manipulated. It shifts and coalesces like fire that doesn’t burn, it’s... it’s holographic, as far as you can tell. Interesting. “What’s your name?”

She remains silent for a moment, her eyes rotating again before she finally answers. “Proxy,” she finally replies. It’s hard to tell exactly how her body is reacting to our closeness -- she’s so strange, her synthetic body not really responding in any way I’d expect a normal organic’s too. Of course, she isn’t organic, so of course her breath wouldn’t pick up, heart wouldn’t pound, cheeks wouldn’t flush. But she’s so close, her pleasantly curvy form cool yet soft against me.

“Are you really sure you want to pass up on a good thing, Proxy?” I whisper, still doing my best to be sultry. None of this is the plan, but sometimes the plan has to change. And, I mean... I have to admit that Proxy is beautiful, in a cold way, and a bigger and bigger part of me wants this as much as I want her to want it. Err, no wait, was... no, yeah, that’s right. “Really sure you don’t have the time or attention for little me?” You press forward a little more, this time letting her feel something a bit more pressing as your girlcock starts stiffening, making a clear outline on your outfit and rubbing, warm and stiff, against the android’s lower stomach.

This, finally, spurs a reaction from her. The mechanical woman hesitantly reaches her hands around me, ignoring the idina laborers moving back and forth around the two of you, and clasps them gently to your backside, giving it a firm squeeze. Her eyes stay locked on yours, and you swear you can hear a whirring from inside of her head as she tries to reconcile her desires with her primary objective. Eventually, however, the former wins. “I... shouldn’t....”

“What do you have to lose?” You trail your fingers down from her neck to her sides, and you can feel something, a physical reaction, unusual but clear -- a sort of hum against Proxy’s synthetic skin. A soft  buzz. “How long has it been since someone made you feel like a woman? Take me to your quarters, and I’m all yours.” You lean in close to her ear, whispering one last addition. “My name’s Una.”

You feel her hands move from your backside to your hands, squeezing one gently as she drags you away from the deck of the slaveship, leading you towards a small descending elevator. She’s silent, seems nervous. Is it possible for a robot to be nervous? Especially a bloodthirsty robotic mercenary working for the evil side? It’s almost surreal to imagine, but there may be a lot left to Proxy that you don’t understand. Hell -- until now, you didn’t even know sentient artificials were legal under galactic law. For better or worse, though, you have some things ahead of you to learn.

The elevator takes you down and into a well-lit, carpeted area, more closely resembling a lavish interior of an expensive hotel than the hull of a spacefaring ship. Quietly wishing that the junker ship you’d traveled to Au Prime on had been this accomodating, you try to get Proxy talking again as she almost drags you down a hallway towards her quarters. “So, you’re...” shit, how do you phrase this without killing the mood? “How does a girl like you like to have fun?”

Proxy pauses only briefly, turning to look at you, before stopping in front of an oblong door similar to the ones in Siara’s home. It hisses open with a swipe from the android’s palm, and she slithers inside, her hips swaying as she turns to face you again. “That... I suppose will be up to your preference,” she says, trying to keep her cool, though it comes off as almost a whimper. There’s a very primal need within her, something you’ve awoken, something she’d been surpressing. The number of pennies you’d give for her thoughts right now.

She pauses again, posing in front of you as you enter the room and the door snaps back shut. Not breathing, not trembling, but starting to produce that barely-audible hum once more, Proxy starts to peel off her clothes, or... exoskeleton, or whatever exactly it is. What’s underneath is unusual, like flesh but not altogether connected to itself. Lines marking the points of her assembly dot her pale, silvery skin, waves of code and data mark her like tattoos, and in certain areas -- such as her underarms, outer thighs, and part of her stomach --that mimicry of skin becomes translucent altogether, exposing the complex, inter-species electronics encased within her. She’s beautiful, clearly designed to be feminine, but she is also very obviously not a living creature.

The outfit is peeled down a little farther, exposing her firm breasts, a little bigger than yours. As it moves down even more, however, your mind starts to race -- what kind of genitals would a machine have, if she had any at all?

A) Proxy has no external genitals or anus. You will need to be very creative and have to learn more about her artificial physiology if you want to pleasure her.

B) Proxy appears to have no external genitals, but does have an anus... or “exhaust port.”

C) Proxy has, sheathed in her body, a synthetic, phallic appliance of impressive size, that she releases upon baring herself.