Chapter Nineteen: OctoPussy
Dr. Otto Octavius, once a renowned nuclear scientist, now found himself in an unexpected place—working as a bartender at Pole Position, a lively gentlemen's club. The irony wasn't lost on him. His groundbreaking mechanical arms, designed to revolutionize science, were now serving drinks to impatient patrons demanding shots and cocktails.
The club's owner, a shrewd businessman named Rick "Slick" Hanson, saw Otto as a golden ticket. With his four mechanical arms, Otto could serve twice as many customers as any other bartender. On his first night, Otto's efficiency quickly made him a favorite among the regulars. They nicknamed him "Doc on the Rocks" for his flawless ability to juggle glasses and mix complex drinks with a robotic precision that bordered on theatrical.
Still, every drink he poured and every glass he polished was a bitter reminder of his downfall. Oscorp had robbed him of his purpose. His Fusion Power Reactor, a project that could have redefined renewable energy, had been shelved. The explosion at Oscorp hadn't been his fault, but budget cuts and bad press made him an easy scapegoat. They'd tossed him aside like trash.
Late at night, after the last patron had staggered out and the neon lights dimmed, Otto would sit in the empty club, nursing a glass of scotch and staring at his reflection in the mirrored wall. He couldn't help but seethe with resentment. Every clink of a glass reminded him of the work he should be doing, the breakthroughs he should be making.
"This is beneath me," he muttered under his breath one evening. His mechanical arms, as if sharing his frustration, clanked on the bar's edge, their pincers tightening involuntarily.
Rick, the owner, noticed Otto's brooding demeanor and patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, Doc, you're making a killing here. Cheer up. Not many guys get a second shot like this."
Otto forced a smile, but inside, the storm was brewing. He knew this wasn't his second shot—this was a dead end. He wasn't meant to be mixing drinks for drunk strangers; he was meant to change the world.
As the weeks went on, Otto began to see Pole Position not just as a job but as a resource. The club's chaotic energy, the never-ending demand, and even the dimly lit back rooms held a strange allure. It was there, amidst the cacophony of pounding bass and drunken laughter, that Otto began hatching a plan.
The Fusion Power Reactor wasn't dead. Oscorp's rejection wasn't the end of his dream—it was the beginning of his revenge.
"Let them drink their whiskey," he thought. "I'll give them something far more powerful to fear."
Pole Position, once a symbol of his humiliation, would soon become the birthplace of something extraordinary. And this time, there'd be no budget cuts, no board meetings, and no one to stop him.
As Otto stood behind the bar, watching the chaotic scene of Pole Position, his brilliant yet morally questionable mind began to churn. The club was rowdy, almost uncontrollable at times, and the dancers were forced to perform behind glass walls to keep the more... enthusiastic patrons at bay. Even the private rooms were designed with barriers to prevent physical contact.
Otto's mechanical arms moved effortlessly, pouring drinks and collecting tips as his thoughts drifted. The mechanical genius in him couldn't help but think there was a better way to balance the demands of the club's patrons with the safety of its performers. Looking down at the powerful, articulated limbs extending from his back, an idea began to form—an idea that could revolutionize the gentleman's club industry.
"What if," he thought, "I designed a machine that could satisfy the patrons without the need for human contact? A fully automated experience tailored to their every desire."
Otto imagined a specialized table with eight mechanical arms, each capable of performing different functions. The arms would be outfitted with modular attachments, allowing patrons to customize their experience.
Hand Attachment: Simulating a gentle or firm touch.
Mouth Attachment: Designed with advanced technology for realistic sensations.
Vagina Attachment: Engineered for lifelike interaction, complete with adjustable settings.
Butt Attachment: Crafted with precision for unparalleled satisfaction.
Each arm would be able to rotate between the four options seamlessly, ensuring that every patron's unique preferences were met. The table could be positioned in private rooms, synchronized with the dancer's performance on the other side of the glass wall. Patrons would never have to touch the dancers, but they would leave fully satisfied.
"This could revolutionize the industry," Otto muttered to himself, his mechanical arms twitching with excitement. "A perfect blend of engineering and entertainment. No one gets hurt, no one crosses boundaries, and the profits would be astronomical."
He envisioned marketing the invention to other clubs, perhaps even starting his own chain of high-tech establishments. His invention wouldn't just make him money; it would make him indispensable.
Otto quickly began sketching out designs on a napkin, his mechanical arms holding multiple pens as they drew intricate blueprints simultaneously. The machine would require advanced robotics, AI integration, and materials that were both durable and hygienic. Luckily, his expertise in engineering and fusion technology made the challenge almost trivial.
But as he worked, a darker thought crept into his mind. This wasn't just about making money or innovating the nightlife industry. This was about showing Oscorp—and the world—that his genius couldn't be suppressed.
"This isn't just a table," Otto murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "This is my statement. My legacy."
The machine, he decided, would be his first step in reclaiming the respect and recognition he deserved. And once the world saw what he was capable of, nothing would stop him from completing his true masterpiece: the Fusion Power Reactor.
Little did Otto realize, his invention would spark more than just controversy—it would set into motion a chain of events that would forever alter his life and the lives of everyone around him.
Later that night, Otto sat at his computer station. He typed in Sex with Lucy Liu. The reason he chose Lucy was because there was a female scientist who worked at Oscorp who looked like Lucy, and he had a major crush on her. He then programmed his invention to mimic everything the woman was doing from the porn video.
As the Lucy Liu look-alike gave the man a hand job, the mechanical hand did the same thing. It copied the motions, stroking his manhood up and down at a perfect pace. Plus, it felt just like a hand—soft and firm. Then Lucy Liu began sucking her partner in the video, the machine switching from a hand to a mouthpiece. The tongue and saliva felt real, and the sucking sensation worked perfectly. The screen showed Lucy going from sucking to fucking. The machine did the same thing, offering a tight, wet pussy feeling.
Otto didn't know how much longer he was going to last, but he knew he still had one more option to test out. However, he exploded with a massive orgasm before the butt stuff could happen. He figured, since everything else worked so well, he wouldn't need to test that out.
The next evening, Otto was ready to introduce it to Slick, who was in the backroom having sex with one of the new dancers. Sleeping with Slick first was usually the only way a stripper could work there. Most dancers didn't say no because they knew the club made lots of money, and New York was an expensive place to live.
Otto stood there in the dimly lit backroom, his mechanical arms twitching slightly, a mix of disbelief and indignation washing over him. He secretly watched for a moment as the stripper rode Slick's penis in a circular motion, her tits swaying to the rhythm of the music in the background. Her long blonde hair flowed perfectly over her arched back as she tried showing Slick the time of his life.
"Ahem," Otto interrupted, startling the two of them. "I have something urgent I must speak with you about."
"What the FUCK, Otto?" Slick bellowed. "Can't you see I'm doing something here? Get your ass back behind the bar… NOW!"
"It is rather urgent," Otto responded, his posture not changing. "I've invented something that will make you… us… lots of money."
"Money?" Slick retorted, pushing the stripper off of him. "I'm always willing to hear about money." Slick, the club's gruff and money-obsessed owner, adjusted his shirt and glared at Otto with irritation, hoping Otto wasn't just pulling his leg. The dancer he'd been with stomped off in frustration, muttering curses under her breath, slamming the door behind her. "Tell me what you've come up with," Slick piped up.
Otto stood there, giving Slick all the details of his invention. "I call it… The OctoPussy," Otto declared, hoping to see a delighted business owner.
However, Slick's reaction was quite the opposite. "You're telling me, you interrupted my fun time with one of the hottest new girls in this joint just to have me listen to a cockamamy story like that? Are you fucking nuts? Didn't you see the tits on that chick? I'm not trying to have robots fucking my customers. I need them to be buying drinks."
"Slick, you're not thinking big enough," Otto said, his voice tinged with frustration but still controlled. "This isn't just some novelty. This is a game-changer. The OctoPussy will revolutionize this business. Imagine the crowds, the money, the headlines!"
Slick crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, sneering. "I don't need headlines, Otto. I need drinks poured and asses in seats. You're here to sling booze, not play mad scientist."
Otto's jaw tightened. His mechanical arms flexed slightly, almost instinctively, their presence filling the room with an imposing hum. "You don't see the potential," he insisted. "Right now, this club is limited. You're losing money every time a patron gets too rowdy, or a dancer feels unsafe. This invention eliminates all that risk. It keeps the dancers protected, and the patrons satisfied. The OctoPussy could make Pole Position the most profitable club in the city—hell, the country!"
Slick let out a derisive laugh and shook his head. "You really think a table with mechanical arms is gonna replace the real thing? People come here for the girls, Otto. Not some overpriced robot freak show."
Otto took a step closer, his human hand slamming down on the desk while one of his mechanical arms gently hovered above Slick's shoulder, a silent but unnerving reminder of Otto's genius and power. "This isn't about replacing anything. It's about enhancing the experience. You can charge premium prices for private rooms outfitted with The OctoPussy. Your profits will skyrocket, and your reputation will be untouchable."
Slick stared at the mechanical arm near his shoulder, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "And what if it doesn't work? What if it scares off the customers? What if—"
"It will work," Otto interrupted, his voice firm. "Because I made it. And I don't make mistakes."
For a moment, the room was silent, the tension palpable. Slick looked at Otto, then at the mechanical arms, and finally let out a resigned sigh. "Fine," he said, rubbing his temples. "You get one shot. ONE. Bring it to me tomorrow night, fully set up. If it works, maybe I'll think about it. If it doesn't, you're back to pouring drinks and keeping your crazy ideas to yourself. Got it?"
Otto smirked, the hint of a victorious gleam in his eye. "You won't regret this, Slick. I promise."
As Otto turned to leave, his mind was already racing with plans to perfect The OctoPussy's debut. This was it—the first step toward reclaiming his legacy and proving to the world that his genius was unstoppable.
Slick, meanwhile, sat back in his chair, shaking his head. "That guy's nuts," he muttered to himself. "But if he's right... I might just make a killing."
The private dance area buzzed with dim neon lights and soft music as Otto watched nervously from the bar. He poured drinks mechanically, his mind completely consumed by the fate of his invention. Slick, pacing near the edge of the bar, shot Otto a glare every few minutes, his patience wearing thin.
"I told you this was a waste of time," Slick growled under his breath. "Nobody wants your creepy robot table. You better hope we sell enough booze tonight to make up for it."
Otto bit his tongue, focusing on the task at hand as he served another round of shots to a group of rowdy patrons. But then, just as the clock neared midnight, the inevitable happened.
A burly man, his shirt half unbuttoned and his tie askew, staggered toward the private dance area. He squinted at The OctoPussy, curiosity overriding his drunken haze. "What the hell is this thing?" he slurred, leaning closer.
A dancer nearby, sensing an opportunity for a big tip, sidled up to him and purred, "It's the latest and greatest, sugar. A VIP experience like nothing you've ever felt before."
The man scratched his chin, swaying slightly, then threw down a wad of cash. "Alright, let's give it a go. Show me what this thing can do!"
The dancer led him into the room, where Otto's invention stood like a mechanical spider, its sleek, polished arms gleaming under the low lights. As the man sank into the cushioned chair, Otto's carefully designed sensors activated, adjusting the arms to his position.
The machine whirred softly to life, each arm moving with precision. One offered him a glass of champagne, another gently massaged his shoulders, while a third provided an immersive sensory experience Otto had meticulously programmed. The man's eyes widened in shock, then delight.
"Holy... This thing's incredible!" he bellowed, his laughter echoing through the private area.
Word spread quickly. Soon, more patrons were clamoring for a turn with The OctoPussy, tossing down cash like it was nothing. The line grew, and the private dance area turned into the hottest spot in the club.
Back at the bar, Slick's earlier scowl was replaced by a wide grin. He slapped Otto on the back, nearly knocking the glasses from his face. "You crazy bastard! It's working! They love it!"
Otto straightened his lab coat and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "I told you, Slick. This is just the beginning."
As the night wore on and the cash poured in, Otto watched The OctoPussy in action, a mix of pride and vindication swelling in his chest. For the first time in months, he felt like his brilliance was being recognized.
But deep down, Otto knew this was only a stepping stone. If he could revolutionize one nightclub, who's to say he couldn't take his inventions further? He had bigger plans—plans that went beyond bartending and pole dancing.
However, his plans were halted when one of the drunkards went into the private room area to try out the machine. He was carrying a glass of scotch in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. "I want two women dancers to perform for me. I'll pay double."
Hearing him say that, Slick was happy to oblige, sending two of his prettiest dancers to get behind the glass and entertain the slurring man.
The two dancers began performing, pressing their buttcheeks against the glass. Then they turned around and did the same thing with their perfect titties, acting as if they were titty-fucking him. Otto hadn't quite programmed the mechanical hands to mimic that motion, though they still did their best to comply, having two arms simultaneously rubbing the sides of his penis.
Soon, the women began acting as if they were giving him a hand job, the mechanical device putting two hands on his penis, stroking in magnificent fashion.
The drunk man then noticed the option for butt sex. Nobody had tried that option the entire night until now. Both women did as he asked, squatting down near the glass, moving their asses up and down. The man was in awe as the machine copied their motions. Their perfect apple-bottoms were such a sight to see. However, he was so excited, he accidentally spilled his scotch all over The OctoPussy, causing it to malfunction while its arms were still in mid-stroke.
Just then, the man felt the machine grip his penis, squeezing it harder than he wanted it to. "Oh, shit! Oh, shit!" he bellowed.
Slick thought the drunk man must really be having the time of his life, listening to him scream the way he did… but he couldn't have been more wrong.
Suddenly, the man came running from the back room, blood spurting from his midsection. "That motherfucker just ripped my dick off!" he bellowed in pain, holding what was left of his junk in his hand.
Slick spit out his drink when he saw what had happened. "Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed.
Otto offered no help to the bleeding man, instead running to the back room to get the machine under control.
As he tried reprogramming it, the arms of the machine were out of control, flailing about madly.
Suddenly, the machine took him by surprise, lifting him up off the ground. It then trapped his body in the middle of the device and squeezed him tightly. Otto thought he was going to die, his body feeling like it was being squashed like a grape.
Just then, he felt prongs entering his midsection, stabbing him all around. It was forming itself to him.
Just when Otto didn't think he could take anymore, the machine turned off. Slick had unplugged it just in time.
Otto slumped over, the machine still holding him in place. Slick thought the nightmare was over. However, when he tried to get Otto out of the machine, The OctoPussy suddenly powered back up because Otto had put in a backup power supply for just in case the electricity was to ever go out.
The machine rose up with its powerful mechanical arms, swiping Slick out of its way. And with Otto unconscious, still completely attached to the frame, The OctoPussy marched out of the building.
It was now in control, and the world was its oyster.