(Graphic sex (Explicit); Past rape; Biting/Scratching; Robo-Blood; Psychologically/Emotional/Physical/Mental pain; Marking; Female Rapist/Male Rape Victim)
Hey guys! So some of you want to know what the "No Quotations Challenge" is so I'm going to explain:
I've seen people do the "Quotations Challenge" which involves a bunch of quotes. For me, I don't know quotes very well but know a few inspirational ones. So I decided to do something called the "No Quotations Challenge." The challenge is both simple and easy yet rough on some authors, you have to write a fanfiction that involves no quotes (aka "no talking") but POV's are allowed. Anyone can do it. But you can use the quotes if you want to—how do I say this?—quote-unquote a word.
Anyway, read the warnings above but enjoy this one-shot I cooked up for fun😘
Also, there is medical procedures in this story, but I don't recommend doing them in real life. I don't know much about medical stuff but I talked to a few authors that are in medical jobs as nurses. (Looks out the fourth wall) Isn't that right, narwhalpuppy? Believe me, it isn't gore-y but has way too mentions of robo-blood/oil. Plus, I don't know much about treating rectal tearing and/or prostate bruising, I'll try my best to explain some "mythical" ways of treating stuff.
The Robot Devil was starting to wonder if accepting this tempting offer was a rather bad idea.
He sat in his office that evening, his mind wondering through a thousand little unimportant lines through his mind. He sat in his chair, fingering drumming in a slow rhythm on the metal desk of his office. He'd clean his desk not too long ago—not a single speck of dirt or dust was there on the surface. Though, the only thing that was on his desk was an envelope—black with a red wax stamp. The Robot Devil had opened it this morning, seeing that it was an urgent message from one of his sinners—Don "Smith" Bot, the Robot Mafia's leader.
In clear, perfect cursive of the mafia's leader literature, it had been written out as a serious notice to the Robot Devil. The three-folded letter still smelled fresh of ink being put to paper. There were no misspelling to any words or smudges to the manila paper. So, reading it, the Donbot graphicly wrote a incident that happened to one of his goons during a heist that had gone wrong...for the first time.
The Donbot had wrote in the letter that Joey told him that something had happened to the smaller, aggressive clamping unit when they were trying to rob a museum that was full of value artifacts that would make a rich white man's bank account go bankrupt. Or better yet two white men. One of the artifacts happened to be an sculpture that was solid—made out of gold and jade and the shape of a roaring lion that was handcrafted by an old Chinese man who donated to the museum so he could help one of the villager's daughter who had been recently diagnosed with a rare and fatal bone disease that if left untreated, it would cause severe damage to the girl's limbs. So in order to not have that, she needed a special yet expensive medicine to treat and cure it.
The museum, knowing that it was full of valuable artifacts, paid for high-tech security systems for whenever someone who broke in and wanted to steal some art or anything worth over a million dollars. The Robot Mafia didn't know all of this and lazily pulled it off without second thought. Joey and Clamps made the heist, using a laser to melt off a circle in a museum wall. And in the middle of the room was the gold and jade lion.
Joey had told the clamping unit to go in and hook a bunch of cables and ropes to the lion, not knowing that one part of the high-tech security systems was the lasers. The lasers were in a microscopic size so it couldn't be seen with a naked eye. Even a robot's scanners couldn't detect it. It was rather such a big mistake when Clamps put his foot on the floor, triggering the lasers in an instant with a loud blaring noise—alerting guards that someone was in the room. A pair of feet came running into the room, revealing a female security guard with gun in hand while trying to signal dispatch for more backup. Right then and there did Joey run without looking back to see if his partner made it into the car or not.
The hefty silver manbot parked the leader's hovercar into the parking lot, panting with fright as well as an adrenaline rush coursing through his system. His mind was a million miles from his concern and safety for his colleague. Joey was in his stage of shock for a full two hours, calming himself before his technical eyes widen in fear—remembering that he left behind his friend in mafia business behind. Obliging without second though, he shifted the stick into "Drive" and sped down the road, cursing to himself on why he could've just waited for Clamps to be in the hover car. By the time the front of the car got to the entrance of the building and he dashed inside, it was too late and horrifying for what Joey came across to.
Clamps had tried to fight off the security guard, but she was too powerful to be defeated. As it turns out, she overpowered him, shoving the manbot to the hard, cold, and marbled floor and began to do unspeakable things that a corrupted cop would do. Her sadistic role went too far as Joey saw Clamps' body full of bruises, gashes, and marks that were to her baton and her manicured, sharp nails that were able to scratch metal and skin and wood. There were open wounds that leaked oil, and that one scar on his face and reopened, staining the right side of his face a dark color. His clamps were bound together by a large number of cables that seemed to hurt. The female human (yes, the security guard was a human) used an overuse of gunplay and pointed the barrel of the gun to Clamps' forehead, shouting orders to the manbot to "show her the goods" or else she'll had no choice but to blow off his face. Joey saw that the female must've used the same baton that she beated his partner with to forcing anal sex onto the manbot. Looking for anything else, he saw that his colleague's cock was showing that had been covered in seminal fluids; she had jacked him off while sodomizing him. And here was were work of art—a manbot that had seen the ways of female rape and was left here, broken and bleeding.
Since then, Clamps has suffered a lot. That night, when Joey brought home the beaten and bloodied clamping unit, the Donbot's wife Fanny tried her best to clean him up and put some antibiotics on his wounds so they wouldn't get infected. But due to what that woman did to him made Clamps utterly afraid of her when Fanny reached out with a damp cloth to wipe away any oil, he screamed as if any women—whether robot and alien—raped him whenever they had their hands on him. He almost kicked the entertainer in the stomach which resulted Joey into holding him down, though, it wasn't enough. Luckily, whenever a robot at the Donbot's mansion would get hurt, there was always a supply kit that looked like as if the Donbot himself stole it from a hospital, containing painkillers and surgical instruments. The kits contained little vials of milligrams of morphine. In Clamps' case, Fanny had to use five of them in total for him to calm down enough to clean up and repair any damage.
The letter was rather pretty brutal for the Robot Devil, wondering how much both physical and mental damage the rape and beating had done for the clamping unit. Even though his personality was also bringing pain to sinners, this one had suffered enough that even if he did torture him, he'll break into a million pieces like a vase. It also had said in the letter that the Donbot had persuaded Clamps to go down to Robot Hell in New Jersey so the Robot Devil can "treat" him from the suffering that woman brought upon him.
Swallowing, a timid yet small knock was at his blood-red door. Along with a voice asking if they could come inside, the Robot Devil let them in, revealing the shaken-up rape victim. The clamping unit had to dress himself up so his injuries could be covered for the Robot Devil, wearing a simple black jacket with a nice pastel-pink shirt with pants the same color as the jacket. He looked as if he was going on a date with him, but deep down beneath the nice clothing was the art of a sadist woman. Clamps (the Robot Devil knew that his actual name was "Francis") gripped his arm, looking away from the demon robot as he asked if there was a chair available for him to sit, in which the Robot Devil pointed to a cushioned seat that was near his desk, instructing the other robot to sit down.
Francis took the seat, wincing quietly when his ass came into contact with the seat. His wounds and marks and scratches stung when the fabric rubbed against them. The wounds were a constant reminder of him on how he had been raped. He couldn't be in the same room with either Fanny or any of the Donbot's daughters, fearing that they might pounce on him and torment him with lewd acts and sadism. Every time he took a shower, he always felt dirty and never clean—no matter what temperature, his injuries were like hot needles. When he was finished, soreness would take over which would result into a limp-like walk from his bathroom to his bedroom. His scratches would continue to bleed, refusing to scab over and heal. Francis was afraid that if he ever wore something in a light color, and if his scratches continue to bubble up, they'll left small and visible spot of his oil—staining them.
Due to the unhealing trauma The-Woman-Shall-Not-Be-Mentioned made, Joey knew that Francis needed urgent medical care or else his abrasions would grow at risk for infection. Francis had complained of stomach pain, in fact, the stomach pains had grown so worse that the clamping unit couldn't go to the bathroom without shedding tears, eating or else he'll throw up, and not to mention when he passed out in the middle of the room—streaks of oil would be seen fresh between his skinny legs.
Joey knew too well that when the security woman sodomized him, she must've damaged him from the inside, too. So without seeing his friend wanting to suffer longer, he called up a longtime friend to drive him to urgent care. His name was Tony Vassallo, another mobster that was human and on the side of a powerful Italian mobster, he was well in his healthy thirties along with having slick-back hair and your usual Italian accent. Joey had discussed the situation and in a hurry, a Lamborghini was parked outside.
The drive to the hospital wasn't long—only ten minutes to be exact. Along the way, groans of pain and nausea were sounded out from the backseat. Tony kept his eyes on both the road and the rearview mirror. The pain in Francis' stomach was now like a million knives stabbing him repeatedly with no mercy on him. He felt cold; and it wasn't the air conditioner. large sweat beads began to form on the bronze unit, already wanting to throw up as he felt his lacerations, bruises, gashes and more kept putting his health on the line. Along with a new stream on wetness growing on his legs. The Italian man kept reassuring the damaged manbot that they were growing more and more closer to the hospital—but he knew that he was worried just as his friend.
They got into the parking lot in time, and Tony didn't hesitate to ruin his new windbreaker to wrap it around the bronze robot, already, his jacket was covered in stains of oil the second it came into contact. It wasn't busy in there, only a few people were in the waiting room. And Francis felt like as if many eyes were glued to him—staring at him with disgust while small, vicious voices kept whispering awful things to him, such as on why he didn't do anything to stop the woman who raped him and how it was his fault that the rape had happened. Tony immediately pulled the register nurse aside from her position, explicitly telling her that his friend's buddy needed medical attention ASAP due to a brutal sexual assault and that the doctor had to be a male. The nurse knew what to do, and called up Dr. Jamal.
Dr. Jamal, a gay Jamaican bald man who had been recently married as well as an ex-cop, had been called in a hurry about a robot who had been in a worst state of a brutal attack. Used to being a cop, he knew that both sexes—female and male—should always been checked out no matter what. Dr. Jamal hurried in there, and from his early years as a cop he never saw this state of molestation before. His patient stood there, all sore and bloodied, which made the Jamaican male almost sick to his stomach. He introduced himself quickly before lending both Tony and Francis into his room, closing the door for more privacy.
Francis held the windbreaker closer to him, afraid to show his injuries to the doctor in front of him. Dr. Jamal had a look of both worry and concern, he had already talked to the nurse on how the injuries were from the rape of the female security guard—the origin of the injuries. Dr. Jamal had also saw the bleeding on his patient's legs, sighing through his nose that the bitch must've sodomized him.
The doctor went ahead and instructed his patient to remove the windbreaker in order to see the injuries and treat them, but the manbot was hesitate, too scared to reveal the damage that the guard had done to him. He hunched and groaned in pain, his stomach was acting up. Dr. Jamal insisted, his growing fear of his patient was at a high level of worrisome. He also insured that his nurse was outside the door, so no females were allowed here unless it was necessary. Francis, now almost in tears to the overbearing pain, slowly and carefully slipped off the breaker, wincing when the fabric rubbed his bloody wounds and more. His sense of fear grew when he saw Jamal's face of disappointment, mustering out on why a woman would do something like this.
Dr. Jamal was both a urologist in men's health as well as a orthopedic doctor, he ordered his patient to sit on the examination table, but immediately saw that his patient couldn't, showing signs of internally damage to the anal cavity as well as symptoms of prostate bruising. His major worry was his concern to his patient's health. He sighed and said that standing was acceptable and it would only take a minute.
A fresh pair of gloves were snapped onto the darker man's hands. He was careful to gently put his hands on any parts of Francis' body so the manbot wouldn't flinch in pain. Dr. Jamal—while examining—told both the human and robot of what the damage was: the bruises were slightly fatal, showing signs of internal bleeding that would become at serious risk if not treated; the cuts, gashes, and lacerations were already showing early sign of infection, and due to how deep and untreated they were, Jamal stated that it would take a while for them to heal properly; he had also examined Francis' genitals, seeing that the female's manicured nails had made small cuts and wounds to the shaft, but weren't fatal enough to cut through the urethra.
Dr. Jamal went ahead and began to treat the wounds, but a sudden shock went through the male doctors as he saw his patient flinch in fear, whimpering like a lost animal when the damp cotton ball. Dr. Jamal took notice—seeing the manbot this scared and not letting anyone go near him was a level of concern. The rape must've done some serious torture to his mental state. Jamal went ahead and did the treatment away, the number of cotton balls being thrown away into the waste basket must've been a record. Though, the bleeding still continued, this also concerned the Jamaican man but didn't want to scare his patient any further. He had bandaged up Francis for a good moment, still bleeding through the cotton pads and his lacerations stung like hell when the disinfectant came into contact.
Jamal went ahead and pulled out a set of leg-lifters, since Francis couldn't sit down due to the pain in his ass, Jamal couldn't image what would it been like to hunch over with a hurting stomach. Usually, the leg-lifters were specifically for when gynecologists wanted to check their female patients but want better vision and access. Before Jamal did anything else, he gave Francis a special liquid medicine for his sore stomach since he had been complaining of hurtful pains to his abdomen. It was an amber color that was clear. Without hesitation, Francis downed the medicine in one swallow, refusing to gag at the awful, bitter taste of the medicine, having a consistency of paint. It coated his stomach, but felt a bit queasy, but at least his stomach pains had lowered down.
Dr. Jamal went ahead and used the leg-lifters to spread apart the manbot's legs—exposing what Jamal's nightmares came true. His patient had severe trauma to the rectum as well as tearing of the rectum. There were bruises that were darker color than the rest of the bruises. Tony had also told the nurse that the manbot was a closeted gay robot that never had sex before but masturbated. Jamal knew that whenever anal sex came to homosexuals, they need to make sure that they wore prophylactics as well as a lubrication only designed for penetration of the anal cavity. If none of these were by side, it would result into pain and STDs. This case, no lube there and Francis had suffered through pain and torment. Jamal went ahead and putted on a fresh pair of gloves, along with taking out a small container that was a homemade yet safe sex jelly he designed for when his husband and himself wanted sex. He went ahead and covered a nice coat of the lubricant to his index, what happened next was a never-ending reminder for Jamal when he inserted a finger to feel around the manbot, who screamed bloody murder before nausea overcame him, throwing his head to the side before throwing up both the medicine and stomach acid.
After getting a janitor to clean up the mess, Dr. Jamal went ahead and began to clean up the blood from his patient's legs, his ears ringing from the scream of his patient as he was careful of the bruises. The Jamaican man already knew what sodomization had done to the manbot: tearing of the anal cavity as well as lesions, severe tearing of the rectum and fatal bruising of the prostate. The baton must've went too deep, is what Dr. Jamal thought. He pulled off the gloves, and the smell of both new and old oil overcame his nostrils. Dr. Jamal went ahead filled in a prescription for at least six pain medications and killers. Jamal also shown his patient a baggie of white powder—saying that if added to water, it would turn into a liquid-y paste so he could put it where his wounds were, but he needed help since he had a lack of fingers or hands. Dr. Jamal also prescribed an anal gel medication for his bruised prostate as well—like the other medications, he needed help as well inserting the gel.
His first day on a large number of antibiotics and gels hurted like Hell and back. The paste Francis had to put on smelled like chemical bleach and was a pungent smell so powerful that he could barely breathe. Dr. Jamal had also given him a large glass bottle of the same stomach medicine he'd given to him before, having a spoonful of it every morning when he woke up to nighttime before going to bed. Francis didn't like it, his stomachs pains were getting less and less better, and the liquid tasted awful enough to gag. His complains were to Joey, who reminded him that if he didn't do it then he'll have to be in the hospital much more longer than last time. Speaking of which, Joey had helped out his friend with the medications almost daily, taking Dr. Jamal's instructions to help him with the paste and rectal gel, the pills Francis was cable of. Francis was both ashamed and embarrassed when Joey had to rub the paste on his cock along with probing his cavity with the gel, at the end, he wanted to lie down on the bed with no one to bother him—feeling dirty as he laid on his back on his bed with a semi-hard-on. The pills helped a bit, but not a whole lot.
Francis was a bit glad yet worried that he didn't call up Joey to put on a third application of that wretched-smelling paste on him before coming down to Robot Hell, this was his second day on medicine and he abruptly "forgotten" to get on his coat of the white paste. Even though Jamal told him that he needed to put on the medicine for his wounds, he didn't forget about taking—(even though he was suppose to take one pill from each prescription, he gulped down two from only one medication)—his pills. Each of them he had to take in a daily order: Flagyl for preventing bacterial infection; Penicillin for his open wounds and damaged body; ibuprofen for his bruises; Oxycodone as pain medicine in a pill form; Hidiclens for his sores and open wounds; and small little Tranexamic acid pills to stop the bleeding, but they never stop. Francis had also taken two, unnecessary of the God-awful medicine to calm down his stomach from throwing up due to the nausea-inducing pain; not to mention that he also didn't call Joey for his rectum gel applying (that shit always hurted like a bitch).
Francis was starting regret sitting down on the chair, still wincing as his ass felt like it was being penetrated by a sharp knife while his injuries stung. Oh yeah, Dr. Jamal had also instructed Francis that he must not sit on any chairs but he can still lie down. Now he wanted to get up, but he managed to hunch over a bit, his insides screaming for him to stop so he just flinched heavily in pain. The Robot Devil's look of sorrow and regret made him feel sorry for the poor thing, already wanting to do anything for him to stop of overbearing suffering of pain.
Francis' bronze eyes were about to leak tears—his stomach was hurting due to almost a whole week without eating due to the pain which was causing his to have starvation aches. He hadn't eaten anything since the rape occurred, anything that was put in his mouth nausea couldn't control and throw up. The demon robot's tail kept tapping the floor in a slow movement of five seconds. And that was when Francis immediately broke down in tears, both pain and sadness and complete feelings of utter bullshit poured out of him in warm tears. He couldn't handle the pent-up feeling he had ever since and blurted them out of what the female guard to him was so fucked-up that he had now feared women, being heavily cautious and scared for himself whenever either a single woman or a scattered group of females were in his surrounding, fearing of getting raped again.
He had also described on how the rape went down. The woman had pin him down to the floor after he only turned his back for a second to see his friend drive off without him, only afterwards feeling a sudden sharp yet blunt pain to his chest. The woman held her weight down on him, taking out her baton to beat him up all over his back, begging for her to stop as he cried out in pain. But she never stopped...she forced her hand on the back of his head, his scar reopening and bleeding when the rivets bursted out. But she didn't stop, a sinister smile was on her face when she kept hearing her imposter's cries sounding out. Her fingernails clawed deep into his metal skin, shouting to stop once more as he felt gushes of oil spilling out from the puncture wounds. Not once had she pulled out her radio to signal other cops, or taking out her handcuffs. She pulled him off the floor and flung his body to the sculpture of the lion, getting back on him to retrieve a pair of cables to wrap around his clamps so he wouldn't use them to harm her. Once again, Francis didn't need to fight back, but kept telling her to stop. She snarled at him, her nails (claws) reach up and began to strike his body like a fierce animal killing their prey. The pain was all too much for him, Francis kept begging her, kept saying "Stop," and "No." But they were fallen upon deaf ears, she stood up off of him, gripping her baton once more before...
Francis couldn't say anything after that, knowing too well on what she did was unforgivable and unforgettable. She just—She just shoved it in there without mercy. He could remember that a puddle of his own fluids as well as a severe pain protruding his stomach, his vision blurred with tears as his throat burned with more cries of torment and begging. He begged her to stop, but she just couldn't. That wo—No, that monster took away his chance of having sex...and raped him...
He felt a pair of hands lift up his face, still sniffling and crying as did so. The Robot Devil looked at him, his body not in his seat anymore but was standing in front of him, hunching a bit so he could look at the bronze robot with solemn eyes. He went ahead and circled his thumb on the bronze manbot's cheek, telling him that it wasn't right for him to be sexually assaulted like that. Sure, he was the Robot Devil himself, but knew what was right for a sinner and wrong for a sinner. He scanned the other robot, seeing that the wounds were already leaking—a few spots was showing. Before Francis could say or do anything, out of the ordinary, the demon manbot went ahead and settled himself on the bronze unit's lap, being careful so his lower half was in the air a bit.
The feeling that Francis was having felt...natural. It was all too familiar with him, having small flashbacks of Joey taking him to a strip club with the only gay stripper there giving his lap a grind. He couldn't get a word out of himself as he felt the red robot's hands carefully slid his hands down to his arms, gripping them slightly as he told the clamping unit that he needed to experience sex...real sex.
The clamping unit utterly almost collapsed completely in his own seat, his clamps slightly gripping the arms of the chair, the wounds on his back stinging and reopened slightly. New tears were about to reform in his eyes, but the handling that the Robot Devil did soothed him enough to not cry in front of him. He felt the red machine's hand then go over to the front of his body, pressing a hand slightly to a bruised part of his chest, the feeling of hot coals coming into contact made him choke back a scream. He felt his front being cold, realizing that his vest and shirt had been opened up, and the look of Beelzebot's face himself was heart-crushing.
The male robot had a feeling of a bunch of weights being held on his chest, his lungs refusing to breathe for a moment. The glimpse of what Francis' injuries were in real-life instead of his head picturing it was nothing compared between. The cuts were already oozing fresh oil, and a bruise from where he had his hand landed on looked like it was still fresh. The red male himself wanted to cry, but held but due to his fear of showing weakness of his high and mighty attitude. Breathing deeply, he asked the other manbot if he was sure that he wanted to do this, fearing that it could cause more PTSD memories of his rape, but the bronze robot nodded hesitatingly, feeling his metal skin being wet of his own oil.
With that permission, the red demon flashed his sharp teeth, his face swinging into the bronze male's neck and sunk in teeth. Francis screamed once more, squirming under the taller male in pain like a frighten animal, both is expression terrified, painful, and in a complete use of shock. His teeth were sharp and just jabbed them into his neck like knives to a human's arm. Black robot blood met pastel pink while the rest camouflaged with the black jacket. Francis wailed once more, fearing that the demon above him had hitted an important vessel to kill him. He felt the jagged teeth cleanly come out of his skin, his back trying to be more with the chair itself as his clamps were around his neck, hyperventilating with tears streaming down more fresh than ever. The Robot Devil himself wipe away the oil from his face, his teeth stained a dark color while a few droplets flown down his neck.
Seeing the other male's horrified expression, he went ahead and did a 101 lesson with him about the rituals of mating with another figure, to show that he or she own their partner, they have to mark up that person by either small scratches or bite marks. Biting in marking was very common during relationships of both alpha and omega. It didn't matter if the person who was marked was either the male or female in the relationship. The lesson of sex and mating seem to rather impress the bronze male, still huddling in fear with clamps on his injured neck. The demon robot had also told Francis that there was no need to put pressure on the mark, knowing too well that there were very much important arteries in the neck and avoided them with caution. Francis obliged and slowly moved his clamps away from his neck, still shaken-up about not being warned about the marking.
The other red male went ahead and brought his hands to the buckle of Francis' belt. Though, the image of the female guard's hands reaching to his belt burned his retinas. Francis shot up from his chair, knocking the Robot Devil out of his lap as he did a sharp and loud "No." He then quiet down for a few minutes before seeing the taller male look at him with concern, shakily, he confirmed that he'll do it himself, in which the red male nodded as a answer. Swallowing, he undid his belt and brought down the zipper—showing his erect cock that was covered in small marks.
Aware of the marks, the Robot Devil got up from the floor he was knocked down to, dusting himself off as he sighed quietly. His mind thinking up a thousand vulgar words he wanted to say to Francis' rapist if she ever dared to show her face to the public. He went ahead and seated himself on his own desk, spreading his legs for the far-away bronze manbot, showing off an erection of his own as well as a small entrance that was somewhere below his red penis and his tail. Ushering the smaller bronze male, Francis went ahead and walked to the red male, feeling his fingers run ghostly up to the back of his head. The bronze robot went ahead and slightly leaned in forward, his cock aching in despite. Slowly, he brought the head to the Robot Devil's entrance and went ahead and put the shaft buried deep inside him.
A noise between a strangled cry and a choked-out gasp came out from Francis, feeling his shaft both in pain and pleasure as he felt his first felt of sex for the first time. The Robot Devil's canal felt amazing, as if he had been taking good care of it for a long time. The little scratches on his cock stung a bit, but his shaft felt very moist. The Robot Devil chuckled at the man's first reaction to his sex being inside a man for the first time, wrapping his legs around the bronze manbot's waist to pull him closer, embracing more of the clamping unit burrowing deep inside him. Francis felt Beelzebot's walls tighten around him, not wanting to let the manbot cum yet.
Francis pulled out slowly, then got back inside the demon robot in an instant. The bronze unit almost felt to his knees as he went repeatedly inside the demon robot once more. A fluid came out from the Robot Devil's entrance, looking a bit black as if he was stealing the other manbot's virginity. Looking up at the taller male, the red demon smiled and reassured him that his was just precum leaking out of his own shaft, but to keep up at the great job. Obeying, he whimpered once more and began to plummet deeper to the robot, only to feel something stopping him. The Robot Devil told him that it was just his male version of a cervix, but in over time, it'll let more of his cock inside him.
Francis' mouthplate glowed every time he cursed out explicit words of pleasure from the red manbot demon's inside clamping down on his cock. The little marks on the pacing shaft still continued to burn, the adrenaline he was feeling made a new rush of oil flow freely from his mark. The oil ran like a sweet sap—letting itself down to his body while staining his clothes even though he was balls-deep in a vice-like canal that kept pressuring him to go a little faster. He was on the edge of cumming inside the Robot Devil. He went ahead and got his thrusting a bit harder, penetrating the "cervix" that sent him over the ending and felt himself throb once more, twitching as he came mercilessly inside the demon.
Panting like a thirst-quenched animal, he went ahead and pulled out of the red manbot, his cum just as black as a blanket of darkness along with it being sticky and coating the bronze shaft in a hefty load of him. And so much of it spilled out, dripping from the Robot Devil's insides like honey. Francis sat back down—panting with sweat and oil mixed together along with a musky scent of semen and sex. The Robot Devil got up from his desk, leaving a few puddle of Francis' cum on the top of his desk and planted a soft kiss on the bronze unit's forehead, asking him if he felt any better, to which he replied, tiredly, yes. He chuckled once more, nuzzling the bloody neck of the mobster as he proudly said "good" in a gentle manner. He then got up, his chest having a few splotches of oil on him, thinking that he might as well clean up Francis before sending him home. As he was about to leave his office in order to get a damp cloth and a small towel, he asked Francis if he wanted to know more about the experiences of sexual intercourse, to which the bronze manbot nodded sincerely.
With a smile, the Robot Devil left and left the bronze unit alone in his office, his mind in a daze on how for the first time his sexual journey felt right.
Me before writing this one-shot: (happy, feels right, not crying)
Me after making the one-shot: (crying, feels guilty because I wrote about my favorite Futurama character getting raped for the second time, hiding under the covers with her Angel Dust and Alastor plushies)
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