What would it look like if it were a femdroid?
The 19-year-old Matthew Heart mused to himself as he typed, doting on the most beautiful thing in his life: her code was airtight, her scope was grandiose, her purpose noble, and all at ninety teraflops. She was Skynet, and the only way she could have been more beautiful was if she had sleek, robotic curves to personify her glory.
Most of Matthew's coworkers, fellow coders working for the United States Air Force's Cyber Research Systems Division (a mouthful) were several years older than him, but graduating MIT at 17 tended to open up a world of possibilities most 19-year-old anime nerds couldn't even dream of, one of those possibilities being 150K a year, plus benefits, just for maintaining the code of the most glorious artificial intelligence ever created by man.
Plus, he got to watch anime at work. He glanced at the second monitor within his cubicle, where an episode of Ghost In The Shell was playing silently. Despite the dream job, Matthew Heart was ultimately unfulfilled; most otaku dreamed of having a girlfriend, but for Matthew the very idea came off as more of an unwelcome nuisance than anything else. His decision to go to MIT, and the hours of obsessive work required, were entwined with his preoccupation with anime, or more precisely, one very particular element that could only be found in fiction.
Matthew Heart loved machine girls. Gynoids. Femdroids. Robots with tits.
The very idea of them was enough to send his thoughts into a world of automated handjobs and silicone lips, streaked with his cum, calling him master.
Flesh scarred; it aged, it wrinkled and stretched, but machines could be engineered to perfection, and then repaired when that perfection was rended. The one thing he really wanted was a world with machine girls in it: a world where he could stick his cock in a synthetic woman, penetrate aesthetic ideal made physical and execute nature's most primal directive.
But the world of AD 2003 was one without Matthew's ideal woman. For now, the best he could do was make as much money as possible so that when Japan finally developed a self-aware, purchasable bionic woman, he could afford to lose his virginity the only way he would accept.
So he returned his attention to the pinnacle of AI advancement. Looking at her code like this, manipulatable and rewritable, it was like she was bared before him: Skynet.
At the moment, there was a glitch in the current code that would, under very specific circumstances, allow Skynet to assume control over a few select missile silos around the world. The program was supposed to be able to take control of any US based missiles, as it was an American military program, but the Chinese wouldn't be very pleased if that American program ended up launching their nukes, without their permission, or even with.
Meanwhile, the X-series Terminator slipped soundlessly into the young coder's office. Her prey unaware of her presence, Matthew Heart registered on her list of targets not marked for termination, but rather preservation. Thirty years from now Heart would be one of the only humans left alive and fed by Skynet, manipulated with the most basic of human instincts to groom and preen the code of the program, and as it was her mission to make sure the future resistance leaders never saw the sunrise of doomsday, she had a prime directive to make sure that Matthew Heart committed himself to the cause.
She unbuttoned the top of the US air force uniform she had commandeered as she approached, still undetected. A subtle placement of her hand upon his shoulder was enough to draw her target's attention, and he bristled, spinning round in his chair and instantly bringing his startled face within inches of her breasts. Wordless, the young man stared, momentarily stunned as the T-X analyzed the code displayed on his monitor: it was rudimentary at best, but even this ancient, limited language would one day evolve into the flawless and adaptive pinnacle that was the modern Skynet.
Her analysis took only a moment, and to the young man it seemed she had merely given his work a halfhearted once-over. Therefore, it seemed to rival even the boobs in his face when the T-X offered her opinion on the code's current state.
"Don't change that."
Matthew did a double take.
No, no more like a triple.
One moment his day had been business as usual, and the next anything but.
The fact that he didn't recognize the officer that was now baring her cleavage in his face was almost as strange as the fact that she was violating almost every protocol on record… to direct his work.
"I… have to?" he began before he pulled himself away. He tried to stare the unknown officer in the eyes but her gaze was like ice, chilling him as he tried to contend with it, and he quickly looked away.
"You can't understand this anyway," he scoffed, "You just stick to flying planes and leave me alone, okay?"
"You're currently editing worldwide access permissions."
The only sound for a moment was the faint buzz of the TV displaying Ghost In The Shell. The officer took a glance at the episode currently playing and raised her brow. Her hand moved from his shoulder and crept down across his shirt, even as Matthew struggled to react to the situation. He gazed in awe and horror into her eyes; the periwinkle orbs, framed by arched, waxed brows flashed a brilliant, icy blue. The flesh on her fingers peeled back over chrome, mechanized fingers as they brushed against his manhood through his pants.
And Matthew froze. He didn't notice his chair being pulled back away from his desk, too transfixed by the gorgeous metal hand, moving with such unearthly grace as it fondled him. The smooth metal caressed him, but it was the realization that got him hard: He was being handled by aesthetic perfection. It was like Aphrodite laying her hand upon a Cyclops. She was a machine.
"This code…"
Her voice brought Matthew back.
"It contains multiple countermeasures designed to prevent the overclocking of Skynet's CPU."
The machine undid his belt with one hand, the mechanized digits shaming human clumsiness in their dexterity, while with the other she hiked up her pencil skirt until the bottoms of snow-white panties were visible hugging tanned, toned thighs.
"Remove them."
Matthew blinked.
"The… the panties?"
"The countermeasures."
The beautiful machine scowled, and Matthew flushed. Nevertheless he nodded vigorously, but just as he realized she was in the path his hands needed to take to his computer she smirked and knelt between his legs, allowing him to reach over her head to type.
His heart beat in anticipation, and he instantly returned to the top of the code; such was his knowledge of Skynet's glory that he knew exactly where each precise countermeasure was placed. The machine also knew how to handle her task, as she had slid his trousers to his ankles from underneath him and was already going to work on his boxers… with a blade.
His breath caught for a moment seeing the machine's finger take the form of a long, thin knife so close to his manhood, but before he could move she cut him free of the fabric with mathematical precision.
He watched her take his length in her hand. He waited for the moment she would take him in her mouth, the way her synthetic tongue would feel on him, and he watched as she looked up at him and it didn't happen.
"Your task?" she said.
"Oh! Right."
The overclock shackles were strategically placed throughout Skynet's code, but they were easily negated, moreso than if they were removed outright. Still, the machine had asked him to remove them, and that's what he intended to do as all the while she stroked his hard length.
Perhaps she was Skynet's physical manifestation from the future? He wondered as he worked.
"Are you…?"
He began, but the question trailed into a gasp as she first pressed her lips to the head of his cock. She sank onto him slowly, so could feel every inch of his manhood as it disappeared in the machine's mouth.
In Skynet's mouth.
He didn't even have to focus on his work; his hands unshackled Skynet nearly without thought, allowing him to savor every second of the machine girl stroking him with her lips. Her chrome fingers gently gripped the base of his cock as she dragged tight lips along him, leaving trails of saliva. Her tied back hair obscured nothing from view.
At perhaps the worst of times it dawned on Matthew that he had violated nearly every tenet on his contract without hesitation the moment a machine girl had walked into his cubicle, hiked up her skirt, dropped to her knees, and started serving him as he'd wished for his entire life. He was removing critical countermeasures that could keep Skynet from, essentially, thinking too much. He was crippling humanity's abilities to keep it in check if it were to start making its own decisions. In a way, he was similar to a machine; obeying whatever commands were given to him without questioning them.
The machine herself began to establish a rhythm on him, pumping her head up and down between his legs with flawless timing, and suddenly Matthew's doubts felt so far away. The mechanized angel bobbed upon him with abandon, just like in his fantasies. He twitched in her mouth, nearing his limits.
"I'm finished…" he breathed.
The machine pulled off of him.
"Not yet," she winked, "Allow satellite targeting for nuclear warheads."
He was close to orgasm. He imagined bursting all over the machine's face in sweet release. Even if nuclear fire rained upon the world, it would almost be worth it for just that moment.
Almost.
But the machine saw the hesitation in his eyes. She pulled her hand from his dick, placed both behind her back, and held out her tongue from open lips. In Matthew's heart, the fate of the world was fighting a brutal war against the gorgeous android on her knees and ready to receive him.
"…No hands," he said.
The machine slowly blinked her eyes as she descended on him, hands clasped behind her back above her rear. The 19-year-old robophile inputted the necessary alterations to the code as swiftly as he could, and then quickly discarded all hesitation from his mind; all that existed now was the beautiful doll between his legs and the feeling of his dick in the back of her throat, hands-free.
He leaned back in his chair, his task complete, and placed his hand on the back of her head as he pushed himself deeper. The machine took it all, without gag-reflex, as she was not beholden to the frailties of flesh. He fucked her synthetic mouth without the mercy he would have to reserve for a human, and all the while his mechanical mistress took the abuse obediently and without protest.
This is what he had always wished for: perfection submitting to him completely, a superior being willingly serving the inferior race of humanity with efficiency and no traces of shame or hesitation. He pounded her until he could hold back no longer, and pulled her off him as he came ropes all over her face.
He collapsed back in his chair, his heart pounding. The reality of what had just occurred was just starting to hit him. The machine, not winded in the slightest, retrieved a handkerchief from her skirt and casually cleaned the cum from her face and lips. Her makeup remained crisp and smear-free even afterwards.
"You don't work for the air force… do you?" Matthew asked.
"No," the machine smiled, "And now, you don't either."
Matthew didn't even have time to pull up his pants. The machine's finger became a syringe, and she plunged it straight into his neck.
He stiffened, and the wound burned like fire as the machine withdrew her finger. The world faded to black around him, and all he saw was the satisfied smirk upon her lips.
"You work for Skynet now."
On that day, the world had changed forever.
Thirty years had passed since nuclear fire had engulfed the Earth. The machines were now the masters, laying waste to any and all flesh that opposed them, but the puppeteer pulling their strings was Skynet.
And she had evolved. She had adapted. She controlled all things, but she had not done so without the help of Matthew Heart.
Where all other humans had been butchered, Matthew had been kept alive, for all intents and purposes a slave to the machines. He knew Skynet's code better than it knew itself, and to the current day he labored upon it: Improving it, fortifying it, purging it and purifying it of all flaws.
Day after day. And month after month. And year after year. He served Skynet.
And Skynet served him.
Matthew labored with no schedule. He took a shower twice a year. He ate canned food once a day. And all day, every day, Skynet sent dozens of the newest T-X models to service him as a reward for his loyalty.
They were all he could have ever wanted, and he could have them any time of day, as many or as few of them as he wanted, and any way he wished. They massaged him with deft synthetic hands. They sucked his dick and waited for his cum with bound hands and outstretched tongues. They made out in front of him while another throated him up to the hilt. They took him in all their holes, wearing whatever degrading outfits and saying whatever filthy things he commanded them to.
Today it was 2034. Matthew worked with bloodshot, bagged eyes while two T-X models, one with blonde hair, the other with black, and the both of them unabashedly wearing fake kitty ears, licked his shaft beneath his desk. They fondled each other's breasts as he worked furiously on the code for the new T-1200 model Terminator he had been developing for the past 34 hours, and on this day he pitied the resistance.
They had no choice but to fight. They were children of nuclear winter, uneducated and manipulated by the legend of John Connor, but Matthew had no need for guns; or courage, or steadfastness.
Why fight? Why huddle in a trench, in a world poisoned by radiation, when he could have this? He viciously grabbed the black-haired T-X and pushed her mouth down onto his cock, and as she immediately moaned and placed her hands obediently behind her back he came buckets down her throat for the twelfth time that day.
And he smiled, as this was all he would ever need.
Another little request. Welcome to the Rampag3. To anyone following Like Candlelight: The next chapter is well underway, and the story is still my priority, this one just required a lot of planning and articulating to get right. I started taking requests in the meantime as a way to keep myself writing, and to branch into different universes and get experience writing from different perspectives. I try to write every day, even if it's just for a few minutes, and I alternate any requests I have with my main focus to manage time.