Mechanophilia

Part 10 - The Test

Wheatley was enjoying this quite a lot.

She looked somehow quite nice, her brown skin painted baby blue in the light that always fell from his cracked iris. She looked smooth, and curvy, too, and for a human her movements had always been somewhat graceful. That was the thing that made her such a good test subject, he'd always thought—and that very same quirk was evident to him now more than ever as she smoothed herself out over the bed, face-first, and brought her hips up to him.

So compliant. So welcoming. So good.

It was a very obvious invitation. One that made him inch closer with eagerness and curiosity. He stared down, watching as she steadied herself with her right hand and reached down along the underside of her body with her left, toward the bit at the very back where he'd been staring. He tilted his face as she pressed inward a little bit, circling an apparent sort of hole—the one the manual must have referenced, he thought. The entrance. The port.

It wasn't the nicest looking port he'd ever seen, but he could hardly blame her, really. And it appeared—lubricated. Self-lubricating, he knew, from the manual. He'd done that to her. His success glinted and shone blue reflection. A second later, she seemed to have finished what she was doing and had settled back, waiting on her hands and knees, for him to perform. Wheatley simulated a swallowing sound.

"Well," he said anxiously, "Here we go then, luv."

Having no hands, he made to press the tip of the apparatus into that lower hole by moving his body, but he had missed, at first, and felt the length of him slide smoothly along the crease between her buttocks instead. The woman shifted a little, and her spine seemed to stretch out before him, trailing shivers. "Sorry, aha," he said immediately. "Sorry about that. I'll try again. Yes. Probably for the better, anyways. Afraid I was a little cold there, wasn't I? Sorry!"

Satisfied that he'd taken on at least some of her heat now, he moved back into position again, breathing out a half-sigh as his top shutter descended slightly as he relished her warmth as much as he could. It felt nice, just to rest there—and he wasn't even inside yet! And the alloy this part of him was made of moved so nicely against her skin, it was like- like silk, he believed the human saying went. It glided so easily. They'd have no trouble at all.

All right. Round two, he was back in position. "Here I come, luv," he said, optic slid as low down in his casings as it would go as he tried to keep the head of it in view. "Are you ready for me? I hope you're ready. Because that hole looks a little small, if I'm honest… and I am, as I said before, quite massive. Glad to see you're nice and wet for me."

It was true, he thought. And it seemed to grow larger as he waited! He couldn't wait any longer, though. The itch was simply agonizing inside. He could hardly even move the hinge at his middle, he was so tense!

"I'm itching a rather lot," he paused and stared down at her, suddenly stern. "You'd better help with this, as much as you can, okay? I don't want any of that teasing like before, or worse yet, that cheating. You're going to help, this time. By not moving. You just hold still there and let me do this and finish up and then everything will be juuust… fiiiine."

And as he'd said it, he'd guided the tip of the thing to rest against her hole and he'd pushed, slowly. It took a little wiggling and shuddering but it did slide in without too much effort, first the head and then a few inches down his shaft, and before he knew it his eye had shuttered in appreciation of how she felt. She was warm and he seemed to have entered a space that had been made exactly for his design of plug, a comfy port if there ever was one—shaped exactly to his own, big enough to accommodate him but definitely still snug. He guessed she had noticed, too, that he barely fit, because shudders rolled through her body as she stretched and arched. Her legs automatically widened of his own accord and he was able to wiggle a bit further in.

He felt a little pressure along the shaft as her spine stretched out again and she squirmed when he did this. He felt that a reminder was in order. "I said, hold still, remember. I'm going to do this. Let Wheatley do this. I'm the one in charge of this… this was my idea…" He applied a little more pressure, swaying his chassis back and forth an inch or two to produce a little wiggling motion to help him get the full length inside. Only once the smooth skin of the back of her buttocks made contact with the front of his chestplate did he stop, resting there, allowing her to regain her breath with a look of triumph on his face.

He hadn't noticed at first, but she'd begun breathing rather hard. He could feel that, sort of—or well, feel how tense she was, through their connection. He wasn't exactly sure why, but humans could be quite odd, so he didn't bother to ask. This was like a test, after all—and testing usually got her breath and heart rate right up, so it did make sense that this could too, he supposed.

"All right," he said quietly with another little wiggle that made her gasp. "Let's just…" he tapered off. He quite liked it like this, nestled between her buttocks, his plug inserted as far as it would go. It was giving him some sort of low-level pleasure, too, not like the testing had been, but it was still nice, all the same. It made him want to stretch and groan, he was so restless and full of itchiness. Going in had been even better, but sitting there, not moving, just feeling… oh, it was so good to have something, after so long. He let his eye shutters drift slowly closed before he opened them and stared down at her.

"Let's pick this up a little," he murmured, still staring at her back as if it were about to utter instruction at him. It kind of did—as soon as he'd edged back out a little, he saw her tense right up again. Good, good—tense probably was the way to go, he knew, judging by how the testing had made him feel, in the past. It was important to tense up, it made the solution feel even better, somehow… so with this logic, he began to rock himself back and forth, not fully pulling himself out because he didn't want to lose the connection they were having, but just a few inches… just enough to get a little static going between them…

And static, oh, did it did build up…

That was the thing about friction. It was like magic. You just needed a little charge, a little spark, and then it felt so good to rub back and forth. And static was different from all other forms of electricity, some were extremely pleasurable, and some were extremely painful—but static was a different kind of feeling. It had a slow build-up, and a surprising and intense release.

It was the unpredictability of it that made it so good. You'd just be there, rubbing yourself along something, feeling the excitement and—bam. All the build-up would release in an electrifying pulse. Just zap.

He let himself drift into it a little, enjoying the sensation of the lady's body as he thought. It was prickly, almost, the sensation of the receptors on his plug all lighting up from that growing static charge, and transmitting the sensory data back along his nice thick shaft back to the bit that extended inside of his case and arched up into his processing unit. He liked how it did that in little bursts that went along with his movements, which changed very slightly in sensation depending on how he moved. It made little stars wink in his vision.

He wondered, vaguely, what it was like for her. There was no way she could be nearly as responsive as he was. He was the one using her, after all—rubbing himself against her port how he liked best. It did seem that she was liking it too, but he wasn't too concerned about that, just now.

She'd begun to move with him. When he'd lift up at the hinge in his middle she'd push backward and he'd slide in gently but firmly, all the way until the white front of his plate met her butt with a soft sound. Immediately he'd let his hinge relax and his front would fall and she'd pull back and he'd feel the ridge at the top of his head scrape gently at her entire length, like that, and he'd feel cold air on his shaft for a second until they both rose in expectation of another thrust.

He was really, really beginning to like it. He started making noise. He felt so full of pleasurable static it was beginning to fill his brain.

"Ohh, luv," he absolutely sighed, leaning into her a little longer than usual so that she was the one to pull away, this time. "This feels really good."

He'd meant to elaborate, but at the moment, he was too lost in the sensations of it. She, too, was lost, judging by all the wiggling and squirming she was doing—Wheatley guessed it must be hard, having to stay still, like that. He was doing most of the work, not that he minded… he didn't think he'd have been able to keep still even if he'd tried. The itch was urging him on, commanding him to continue the intoxicating motion, but it wasn't ready to burst, yet—but he was almost there, if he had to guess, using testing as a reference.

But the build-up to this, unlike the testing, was so good. It felt good. All of it.

"Auuuughhhhhh," he sighed as her hips drove back rather forcefully onto him and he couldn't stop himself from raising his front. Ohh. God, it felt close. He was absolutely going to lose it. She rose, too, tensing right up, and edged forward to the headboard and he followed immediately, reluctant to slip out of her. He watched in awe as she clung to the headboard and used it as leverage to push herself back onto him, hard, the muscles under the skin of her shoulders and arms flexing. Ohhhh… so she wanted to play hard… he met her challenge passionately. As good as it felt to just let her do it, he was supposed to be using her… regardless, he allowed her a few moments to herself, in which he kept as still as he could with his front raised at the perfect angle for her to bounce on while she panted, pushing and pulling against the headboard.

The static feeling kept mounting, evolving into the complete vibrating hum of feedback. He couldn't think. Everything was the feeling of her riding him, the feeling of the front of his chestplate sticking to her back with each thrust from the moisture seeping between her legs, the tense sensation in his middle growing so intense he hardly thought he could take it. He started moving again, trying to match her rhythm like he did before and it felt so great, he groaned, moaned, so deeply his voice vibrated along his shaft and spread right into her body.

He heard her gasp. He gasped, too, their middles meeting with a frantic, oddly wet sound, but he didn't care. He was almost there, after so long, and oh, it was going to be good… it had been so good when there hadn't been a long, pleasurable build-up, he couldn't even imagine how this one was going to feel… it was strong, oh, filling him up a hard with pressure, oh, he was going to burst…

She must have known what was going to happen a second before it did because she'd pulled back at the last second before sliding him deep and instantly, he broke out in shudders and cried out. Stars started bursting in front of his eye as the static mounted and then seemed to drag along him, hypersensitizing everything, and then the zap came rolling through him in a spider's web of pleasure, reaching out from what felt like the epicenter, his equipment. He could feel himself moving but he had no control over it, his chassis arching up into her on its own accord. He leaned back, staring unseeingly… and that familiar, warm-something came gushing out of his plug again and right into her, filling her up, oozing out the sides. It was more, a lot more than there had been before, he was dimly aware as he'd collapsed, finally finished.

"Oh, bloody…"

He was panting. He slipped out of her, squeezing his eye tightly shut.