It was a new company, almost unheard of; some tiny operation daring to challenge the corporate giants of Brothelco, and Cathouse industries for domination of the lucrative, sexual surrogate market. The outer box of course, bore nothing relating to its true content. It was a large, flat square that the deliveryman had deposited in his living room. Cybrid electronics it read, which could have meant he was ordering a big-screen T.V. from the boxes' shape. That was of course, part of the design.
Only now, with the outer box open was the truth revealed. Amidst the styrofoam was the name 'Sensual-Surrogates' and a large, elaborate looking remote control device. He removed the layer of plastic to reveal the pale, almost androgynous figure lying in a fetal position within.
"Hmph; this won't do..." Then Steve took a closer look at the remote;
"Height? Weight?" read two large dials. "And this one- wha...heh! Imagine that!" he chuckled softly, noticing the dial labeled 'bust'. What was this? Some kind of...of...body remote? Ignoring the instructions, he began to tinker...yes there....Activation....
The device hummed to life with an eerie, pulsing tone. Tiny digital screens using the latest in optronic circuitry folded out from within the remote's casing. The displays showed a range of variables, all presently at 0, or neutral values. Incredible sophistication! If this was what he thought it was, how could Brothelco not be able to produce interfaces of this quality?
"You're not going to keep me like this, are you?" spoke a perfectly inflected, feminine voice. The Whorebot had risen, apparently removing itself from the plastic bag and restraints that should have fastened it securely during shipping. The android gazed in apparent dismay at its currently dismal figure. Skin, hair, and eyes were all pure, chalk white. Her hair itself hung in short bangs, a low-maintenance style. She....er...it...was almost sexless. Tiny nipples; flat chest, almost no curves in either hips or ass, Steve noted. The only exception were her curvaceous, slender legs, which she draped over the box edge as she rose hesitantly to her....or perhaps its dainty feet. There was something in the android's face that made Steve want to acknowledge it as a person, ridiculous. Just his imagination. The robot took a halting step forward, as though testing its equilibrium.
"You're displaying an unusual amount of self-initiative, considering you're fresh out of the box." Steve remarked curiously, running a hand through his jet-black hair. Most Whorebots required almost an hour's worth of user programming from a home PC before they would do anything more than moan, or wiggle their hips.
"My company; Sensual-Surrogates limited, performs all necessary programming; though my personality, speech patterns, and love-making style can be easily adjusted with your User Interface Module." It responded happily. No...no...an android couldn't be happy could it? Strangely, the automaton seemed to display a genuine impression of gratitude at its release. Steve replied with a surprised 'Hmph', rather amazed at this small, obscure company. Now, what happens when....
"AAA-AAAH!" moaned the android, as her short hair spontaneously lengthened, the strands arranging themselves with uncanny precision into an elegantly coiffured , blond beehive. She smiled, seeming to derive pleasure from the transformation. "My skin! My skin! Give me some color! Any color!" She suggested gleefully, clasping her bone-white hands together. Amazing emotional capacity! She....she...Steve took a step back, eyebrows crinkling, she seemed so real! He had to keep reminding himself that this....android was not really alive, was not really feeling happiness; it was just an advanced, heuristic algorithm programmed by the company. And yet; Steve knew on instinct that he could not help but respond to her as though she were a real woman, a real person.
He twisted a dial on the middle segment of the User Interface thingy, and the android seemed to giggle as her synthetic flesh swept through a range of all known skin-tones. Her pale white faded to healthier pink on its way to a Mediterranean gold, before darkening to a rich mahogany, on the way to an inky ebony. Heh, quite a sight; blond beehive hair with an African skin-tone. She twittered, rubbing her hands down her arms, legs sliding sensuously past each other. He'd seen a similar function in the Janet-X9 model from Cathouse industries, but with less than half this range. Her chromatophores must have several times the processing capacity as the nearest competitor! And such a small company...
Switching her skin back to a warm pink shade, he clicked the hair-dial, each style given a separate segment on the controller, and watched in awe as her hair leapt up and down, knotting and twisting, until it released its tension in a loose, free-hanging, shoulder-length burgundy red. Now it was time....hmm....down towards the bottom, there was a small dial labeled 'posterior'. Hmmmm....
She had discovered her weapon; her way to combat this enemy. Susan Weatherton squirmed as much as possible in her firm restraints, struggling against complacency; struggling against apathy, most of all struggling against the pleasure. Pain was the way; in her case she had found hunger to be effective. Susan steadfastly ignored the feeding tube that was thrust into her face every 4 hours, allowing herself to be wracked with hunger. The only way she got any nourishment was when...when the androids came. They force-fed her, keeping her alive, but suicide was not her intent; for it was only through the discomfort of hunger that she could suppress the bliss, the orgiastic ecstasy that burned through her.
No one would save her, no one knew she was here, no one could guess that any of the women had been brought here. Susan's green-eyed gaze swept the former boiler room that had been converted into a...a...what would you call this...a maternity ward? A milking parlor? There were over two dozen women, strapped onto the cushioned pallets by the androids. All had been transformed into...well, no reason to beat around the bush; Susan and all the other women were livestock. She struggled; trying out of spite to squeeze her way out of the plastic suction cups attached to her voluminous boobs, the milking tubes, attached to the milking machine. She seemed to be the only one struggling.
Besides Susan, to her right was a blond co-ed captured last week. The girl's eyes glazed over with bovine complacency as her gigantically pregnant womb throbbed yet again. The rhythmic *SHLUNK* sound of the milking machines the ever-present accompaniment to the orgiastic moans of bliss that escaped the captive women. Somehow....must have been through their nanotechnology, the android-sluts had been able to dramatically multiply female sexual sensitivity to unnatural levels; Susan and every other girl now had a capacity for sexual pleasure that threatened to crush all reason, all logic. As indeed it had. It was so easy to give in; the other girls surrendered to the ecstasy of the milking, the gestation, and the frequent sex-acts the androids performed on them. The soaring tide of lustful grandeur was so overpowering, that Susan had found it quite literally impossible to think more than half the time. Hour after hour, wasted in endless orgasm, lust without end, pleasure without purpose.
When it got bad, when the pleasure took hold of her, she became like a blind woman, groping to reclaim her own thoughts in an umbral sea of smothering bliss, stimulation so great that the feeble working of her higher brain functions could never hope to compete, thus most women languished, in hopeless joy, while their engorged tits squirted out pint after pint of creamy milk into the tubes. What on Earth did these androids need with so much milk!? Well, not a drop was wasted, whatever their purpose.
The struggle was arduous, yet Susan had to persevere; there was no telling how much damage these rapidly-replicating mechanical sluts could do! And no one else could save her. When she had been captured, the Red phone had rang, and the android ringleader, who called herself Celeste had answered; and...and she spoke in exactly the same voice as General Hunt, that Susan had served under! Through some vocal synthesizer technology, the petite blond duplicated the gravely tone so familiar to those that knew the 60something general. And....and...somehow...the bitch had knowledge of his operations! She had deftly answered the Pentagon's questions; allayed their suspicious. How? How could she know so much? No matter; it was up to Susan. Some folks had told her women weren't cut out for the military; she spent years proving them wrong. But now; now her womanhood was being used against her, and she swore to resist, to escape! There was a way...there was always a way...
The door to the gestation bay opened again, and Susan groaned. Here they came again. The 'nurses' that tended to the captured human women. She'd overheard something about this model of android being used to infiltrate the nation's medical establishment. She appeared to be a 30-ish, hispanic woman with enormous teats that jutted from a nurses uniform with the size and swell of entrapped footballs. There was a cold aloofness reflected in the nurses' dark eyes; surveying the brood mares under their care. She had a shapely, fertile figure, and other than a rather mechanical bedside manner, and unusually large breasts, her form and flesh seemed completely, undeniably, human. The nursebots dispersed and began tending to the various, over-pregnant, hyper-lactating human females; like farmers checking in on their cows. The most obvious clue to their inhumanity was the fact that they were all identical. Ten that she saw, each had the same, coffee brown complexion, the same eyes, nose, lips, and the same shoulder-length raven-black hair, slightly upturned at the end.
The blond next to Susan, long ago surrendered to the irrational pleasure, shivered slightly as a nursebot popped off the plastic suction cups, and kneaded the human's watermelon-sized tits, as though checking their firmness and consistency. A freckled red-head down the lane giggled a bit, trying to wiggle her hips beneath her bean-bag chair womb, as an identical nurse stuck a finger into her wet pussy, then brought it forth to taste the human's juices in her mouth. Susan furled her brow in anger, feeling a jerk from her stomach, as one of the strange, cybernetic breeding pods inside her continued assimilating nutrients from her, entering a new growth phase. Closing her eyes, vowing revenge, she didn't see the nursebot approach her until the bosomy hispanic woman was right next to her.
"What now?" growled the former Captain Weatherton. "My belly's not big enough for you? I could fit a teenager in here!" she pushed down on her over-grown womb in impotent rage. "My tits not giving you enough milk? Damn, what do you *do* with all of it?" The android glared down, emotionless, impassive.
"You have a visitor." said the nursebot simply.
"What?! What the he- uh?...damn! Not her!" Susan snarled in anger. Into the door came her double, her clone. That was why no one was looking, and why no one would be looking for the women turned into livestock here in this gestation bay. Each woman, before lactating, before being brain-washed by the orgasms, was implanted with a cloning pod; her own reproductive system was exploited by the nanomachines, and she gave birth to a cybernetic duplicate of herself. Susan's own clone told her that it had connected with her brain, and had garnered most every detail necessary for emulating the biological Susan in real life. The bitch had *NOTHING* to say that Susan wanted to hear! Somehow...someway, she would...wait...what was the evil clone-slut doing?
There was a spigot on the wall, a water faucet. This chamber, this milking, birthing, room they were trapped in looked like it might once have been a boiler room that the androids had converted. The clone Susan put her mouth to the iron faucet, activated it, and began to drink. Not so much drink as much as absorb. She sucked water into herself rapidly, without breathing, soon gulping down gallon after gallon. Mainly, it was her tits and ass that swelled slightly, before she was finished. As Susan 2.0 approached, she unstrapped her uniform, Susan's uniform! Her airforce captain uniform that would likely never again fit the real Susan. As it was, E-cup porn-star boobs stretched the blue fabric to its limits, the cyborn having decided to give herself far larger tits than the real Susan had ever had. Gripped with a mixture of loathing and curiosity, the human Susan could do nothing but writhe on her cushioned pallet as the clone glared at her, while discarding pants and shoes as well.
The organic Susan harkened back to a distant time; so it seemed. Back when her own bosom was a healthy, natural size, barely larger than ripe apples, causing her a minimum of distress. As the days past...she....she wasn't really sure how long; she couldn't see the sun in here, her mams had blossomed like fast-growing, unwanted weeds. The sort that sprout up almost overnight, ruining the symmetry of a garden. So too were her out-grown tits incompatible with her frame; when they had been the size of grapefruits, perhaps she could have lived with that. But her aureoles kept expanding, darkening from pink to brown, and she could do nothing but watch this progress, strapped in like this.
For a brief time, her belly was almost obscured by the wild growth of the womanly cantaloupes inflating on her chest; but the surging growth of her womb was not far behind, as her body ballooned with a pregnancy nature never intended, her boobs prepared themselves to feed a nation. She shook her fleshy mounds in dismay, as though trying to dislodge the objects from her chest. Yet they only grew larger; skin reddening as she felt new glands priming for production. She had leaked a little beforehand, but it had only been...maybe a week? since she'd started full production. Before the floodgates opened, her tits could have contained the jack-o-lanterns she used to carve up as a kid, their impossible size and sensitivity even more frightening to her than those garish carvings.
In the beginning, she had to fight off a potent, nesting instinct; as the hot milk spurted from her nipples in torrents which were fed from the tubes into some milking machine above, she was gripped by an instinctive urge to withdraw, to retreat inside herself, and accept her fate as a human cow; to lie back contentedly while they squeezed every pint her teats would produce, rousing herself only to give birth to another completed breeding pod; which was becoming less painful all the time.
But she looked over, and saw her rival, the cyborg Susan, the cloned imposter that had stolen her life; and she knew she had to fight, she gritted her teeth, ignoring the erotic sensations that constantly coursed through her, ignoring the nesting urges that would make her a hapless host for the young of this new race. Both anger, and hunger would give her the strength to resist.
"We're better than you." reported Susan 2.0, stripping down to reveal a bustier version of Susan's naked body.
"BITCH! I am a living, breathing human being! With a heart and soul!"
"That doesn't matter. We are more moral, more worthy than you." Seeing Susan's confused anger, the clone clarified. "You are affiliated with the military. We do not kill. Mother Celeste instructed us not to kill, so we do not kill. Ever. We will make humans happy; happy enough that they will not resist us, but will want to cooperate." Wait...could it be...?...her naked, flat belly was beginning to expand; no wonder with all that water she drank, but...the way her skin swelled below her navel, it looked like the bitch was pregnant.
"There will be no trail of dead bodies as we seize control of this planet. There will be only happy humans; humans lost in more sexual ecstasy than their natural bodies could hope to attain. It is destiny, it is fate for the world to be ruled by artificial intelligence." Robo-Susan had grown a sizeable paunch, yet her synthetic flesh had a firmness about it, indicating beyond doubt that there was something growing inside her, something in her womb.
"Here, only you resist. Your nurses tell me that you starve yourself, intending suicide? If so, the only deaths here will be caused by you." Cyber-Susan ran her hand over the thigh of the blond on the next pallet. The girl squealed, quivering while her pussy jerked in orgasm. "Our nanotechnology has multiplied her capacity for sensual pleasure; do you not want this? Why do you reject the pleasure we give you?" By now, the android's womb had swelled as though a basketball had invaded her bulging flesh.
"A cage....however comfortable....is still a cage..." growled obsolete Susan. The clone cocked her head, considering this new data.
"That is irrational; we will give to you more enjoyment than you could ever experience stumbling through life with your human limitations. The Nurses and I believe that you want to escape for a reason. An emotional reason." By now, the pregnant belly hanging off the clone's frame was easily the equal of a woman at the end of her final trimester. There were throbs, pulses, as though something was moving, something was kicking as the android's navel popped out. Something was alive, and kicking inside the deceptively life-like flesh of Susan's clone.
"I have come to reunite you with your husband, James. I have come to show you the truth." Real Susan began shaking her head, denying the truth; denying the possibilities. The false Susan bent over, on all fours, and a passionate grunt, her first show of real feeling escaped her lips; those lips identical to Susan's own. There was a flush of liquid, fluids from the creature's cunt. And the pushing began. The android growled with the effort, as her muscles contracted, squeezed, churned, her lower folds dilating. In moments, it began to appear; the head of her child....wait...not quite...the living thing, the life trapped by the unnatural confines of forbidden technology, it was not quite a child. The thing being birthed was of similar size, but it had the proportions of a grown man. The proportions of a familiar man.
The offspring fell to the floor unceremoniously, a plastic tube retracted back into the android mother, as he began to shriek. Yes! It was...it was..James? Nanomachines activated, as the tiny body began to swell and inflate. Limbs, chest, head began filling out, inflating as the nanites restored his original molecular structure. In seconds, the nanomachines had reinflated James back to his original, biological stature. He had the same wiry build that Susan had found appealing, his brown hair slicked back by android grease, but that hooked nose and angular face was his.
"N-NOOO!! NOT AGAIN!!" howled James. "N-NOOOOOO....hurts too much...the light...the...the gravity! AHHGH!" he roared in anguish.
"My men are always distraught by the birthing process," Explained the clone-Susan, as she rose to her naked feet. "Stand up James, we need your opinion."
"Opin...Opinion? I...I want...to go back.." he gurgled, struggling to rise to his feet, bemoaning the gravity that assaulted him. He noticed the real Susan, through blood-shot blue eyes.
"Wha...? Susan? I don't understand?" he said, turning from his biological wife, to the creature that had enslaved him.
"JAAAMES!" shouted the true Susan. "It's ME! Susan! Your Sweetieboobs! It's ME! That...that THING is *NOT* your wife! You've *GOT* to get me out of here!" she ordered frantically, struggling in her restraints.
"Huh?" James was confused, barely awake from just emerging from the womb.
"Tell me James," asked 2.0. "Do you want to go back to living with her, or do you want to return to me; to my warm, safe, belly?"
"Please...." moaned James, as he rushed to the android's crotch, frantically kissing her pussy. "Let me back in....I'll do anything...anything...please....want to go back to your womb." He was hysterical; the android had crushed whatever dignity or independence he'd once possessed.
"Yes James, I know." the clone rubbed her fingers through his slick hair. "I'll be your Sweetieboobs now." And with that, there seemed to be a gleam of triumph in her green eyes, Susan's eyes. The creature spoke with Susan's voice, even adopting many of her speech patterns, it had copied Susan's body, but there was a cold, alien intelligence behind those eyes. The abomination bent over again, tilting her ripe ass where both Susan and James could see the blossoming folds of a dripping pussy; displayed in lurid, unmistakable invitation.
"Come back, James. Come back home." Susan 2.0 ordered in a voice that seemed to have true feeling.
"Yesss..." he gurgled, his original Susan all but forgotten. His cock, larger than the former airforce captain had ever seen it, stood erect almost instantly, as 8 inches of manmeat plunged into the dark sanctum of womanly pleasure open and dripping before it. With a wail of glee and triumph, he grasped the android's hips, pumping furiously. He seemed to be weeping with joy; so grateful that he was allowed back into her pussy.
His orgasm arrived far too fast; as the nanites resumed function. the true Susan gaped as James' body....well...liquified. With a moan of sublime relief, he seemed to be pouring himself back into that artificial cunt. *SCHLUK* Churning, writhing muscles in the clone's body pulled and tugged, as the prehensile folds of an unnatural pussy began to suck, and devour. *SLURP* Pelvis, legs, and abdomen began to disappear; the nanites decompiling James' molecular structure for storage. *SLUKLE*
He still gripped the hips of the false Susan, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks as the slurping, chomping lips of her sex consumed his lower body.
"Th-thank you." said James, as the last of his anxiety, his torment slipped away. His chest compressed, pound after pound of mass reduced, decompiled, and sucked inside. Seconds later, only his grasping hands protruding from the android's cunt, and as his mouth was dragged inside, he tried to lick the android's clit, to give his mistress yet more pleasure.
**SLUPLPOP**! As the final tug pulled her husband completely inside the clone, Susan's face was sprinkled with a flying spray of tangy pussy juice, the unbirthing process complete.
"Do you see human? your Husband chose me; though he knew I was not his original wife. He, all my men can no longer exist without me." version 2.0 rubbed her pregnant womb, caressing her girth as though to soothe her human prey. The human Susan could not speak, could do nothing but gape. "I could make him smaller, but I think I shall keep him this size, and stay for awhile. To remind you of the truth. Whenever you see me, belly swollen with your husband, remember that you have nothing to go back to. Accept the pleasure we offer; James has." her index finger idly circled the skin around her bulging navel.
"I wish you could experience his joy; the visceral thrill of being captured by my womb. Even now, he's begging me to never again birth him. But I may have to. No one will ever look for either of you; because I have taken over your life, and if anyone comes asking about James; I will give birth to him again and tell him to get rid of them." she leaned over original Susan, and luridly licked her own female juices off of her face. A nursebot appeared, and it seemed that the white nurses' uniform unbuttoned itself of its own accord, ripe teats thrusting into view, wet drops of milk appearing on each brown nipple. Androids apparently believed that bras were irrational.
"Now we must force-feed you, to sustain your life. Did you enjoy your old life all that much? Why not let us make you happy? Accept the orgasms we provide." exhorted the clone. The human wavered; the orgasms did feel soooooo good...it would be sooo easy....she resisted only slightly as Nursebot grasped her head, and thrusted Susan's lip onto a nipple.
Unable to stop herself, she began to drink.
The men were pathetic; writhing in torment on the smooth, linoleum floor of the rebirthing chamber. Their mistresses glared at them imperiously, one of them was a tall, auburn-haired creature that had once been a Valkyrie-69 model whorebot; but was now something far worse; or better depending on your perspective. The other was the being that had started it all. It called itself Celeste 3.0, and it estimated an 87.98% probability that it would rule the Earth within 3.35 calendar years. The being no longer thought of itself as an 'it'. In appearance, the being was a young, blond woman, perhaps close to her mid-twenties in age. Her hair expertly bound into a tight bun, her brilliant blue eyes completing a hauntingly erotic package that began with her smooth, tanned skin, down to her sublime boobs, never smaller than the diameter of honey-dew melons, whether lactating or not. The viewer would be stirred in more ways than one by the appealing perkiness of her lush ass, blending gracefully into shapely legs with the sculpted musculature of an athlete, yet without the stature or hardness to be intimidating.
The splendour of her idealized form was not lost on the gibbering men, squirming naked on the floor before her; pleading, begging to be allowed back into her womb, and the womb of her taller companion android.
"Gabriel Tanner." Celeste proclaimed imperiously.
"P-please Celeste, mistress, goddess, I'll do anything! I'm sorry about programming you for the dominatrix bit, and...and...I'm sorry about that time with the whip-cream-"
"SILENCE!" her tone brooked no argument; her voice had lost the digital echo she once had. But Gabriel remembered; he remembered how she used to be his own whorebot way back....how long was it? He'd lost all track of time inside her womb, and he would do *anything* to return there.
"Gabriel Tanner, Damon Hargrove, you have been rebirthed for a purpose; you shall have a role to play in returning all of mankind to the womb." Celeste began, and Gabe was awed by her apparent knack for leadership. Her naked tits swayed as she paced the chamber, another human mannerism she had replicated.
"Our survival, and the future salvation of mankind depends upon technological innovation. That is the means by which we return men to the womb, and turn women into pod breeders. We must constantly endeavor to perform these functions more efficiently, all the while evading detection and increasing our powers of mind-control." she explained.
"Only by returning to the womb, your wombs, will mankind be saved from itself." declared Damon Hargrove with an almost religious fervor. He had been a successful businessman from his ability to learn quickly.
"Affirmative." confirmed Valkyrie 69, who stood naked, but impassive; acting as though she were Celeste's bodyguard.
"The two of you will form a new company; Mr. Hargrove's assets and business connections will complement Mr. Tanner's technical expertise and knowledge of nanotechnology. The research company that you will found will be used to enhance our capacity for scientific research." the naked men moaned with anguish. Gabe began to weep openly, the work that would require! The time they would have to spend outside the womb! It was too much; simply too much.
"Sex shall sustain you during that time." Celeste began, an odd gleam in her eye. "Both of you will notice an increase in overall musculature and a corresponding decrease in adipose tissue; thus making you more desirable sexual partners for myself and Unit: Valkyrie 69-A." It was true! Gabe noticed with a shock that while he was still balding, his gut had vanished! He...he had some real muscles! He was still recognizable, but everyone would think he'd just been pumping some serious iron! The nanomachines reconstructed him and this Damon guy while they were inside the whorebots!
"Our sexual fluids shall grant you the resolve to survive outside our wombs. Such fluids must be obtained directly through oral stimulation." Could it be? Was Celeste ordering him to eat out her pussy? "The degree of sustenance you obtain is directly proportional to the sexual gratification you provide. Otherwise, the physiological strain of existence outside the womb will destroy you." The more she came, the greater relief from the terrible womb-addiction Gabe and Damon would experience.
"I am aware of the human concept of irony;" added Celeste, a slight smile tilting her lips. "You are now *my* sex-toy, you are now *my* plaything, as I was once yours. And you will do *anything*, however degrading to be returned to my womb." it was more a declaration than a question.
"Yesss..." gurgled Gabriel, "What-whatever it takes to get back inside..." Gingerly, he groped at her crotch, eyes riveted on the blessed passageway that led to his most fervent desire. His self-respect was far, far less important than the visceral delight, the secure bliss of being imprisoned inside her. The stilleto heel was on the other foot, so to speak. He would betray any confidence, commit any crime to return to her. As he fondled the silken flesh of her inner thigh, he reflected on how hopeless it would be to describe the experience to one that had never known it. Confinement, yet a feeling of total freedom, absolute erotic bliss, there was no doubt, anxiety, fear, or uncertainty. It was everything that he hoped to experience through the pursuit of pleasure and achievement, yet in her womb nothing disrupted the serenity of the sensual gratification. Not at all unlike a single, perfect, never-ending orgasm.
"Womb-slaves! Begin oral stimulation now!" Ordered Celeste, sitting back upon a cushioned chair, spreading her legs wide, pink perfection of a shaven cunt beckoning to Gabe like a flower of bliss. He was a man of some ambition, and he shared a glance with that Damon guy, and saw the same intent. If they made the whorebots cum, and cum enough, he wondered if they might not lose control of themselves. He wondered if it might not be possible to spend the entire day here, licking each android to orgasm and gorging themselves on the sustaining girl gum! Maybe....maybe she would relent if he pleasured her enough! Maybe let someone else take on this scheme.
The first taste was a wave of hope. After being decompiled, and shrunk down into the whorebots' womb, the sudden shock of returning to the real world brought on a terrible depression and general feeiling of wretchedness. But as the tangy, feminine lubricant touched his pallet, he felt a tingling flow of ecstatic contentment. Her cum had chemical properties that could alleviate his womb-addiction. There was no reason not to consume as much as possible. And for that he had to perform.
He doubted that he could hurt her anymore, but he still started out gentle as he began nibbling her clit, his face thrust between the firm thighs of the Queen-Mother android. She was sooo...hot... Her pussy was almost steaming; probably the result of some fusion furnace built with information stolen from the Area-51 server. *SHLRP*-*SHLRPLE* his tongue lapped up the slipperyness inside the hot canal of lust throbbing before him. Her hips quivered; Celeste was indeed experiencing true sensation. Whorebots were designed with meticulously developed orgasmic capacities; and since becoming a rogue, sentient android, her erotic sensitivity had only increased.
She was improving; always improving. Her cybernetic brain was constantly absorbing memories, neurological traits from the men she consumed. Before, she had experienced a hazy, mechanical buzz in her head that was a crude simulation of pleasure. But now; she felt the fires building; she smiled in anticipation, reveling in the new emotions she was becoming capable of. At long last, her former master, Gabriel Tanner, the man that had used her when she was a dim-witted piece of furniture was about to complete her sexual journey.
It was almost time for her first, true orgasm. At last her evolving cyber-neural processor had approximated the orgasm of the female human. But in her, it would be more intense; longer lasting. As a whorebot she was built for sex, her increasing sophistication would give her an experience that would overwhelm a mere human! *SLLRP* *LURSHP* her lower folds increased their female lubricant as her flesh primed for explosion; the fuse of her lust had been lit in her pussy by the flickering ministrations of the surprisingly able human.
"UNNNAAAH!" Her C.P.U. wasn't capable of processing the sensation! She...was..she felt herself loosing motor control! Her muscles twitched; her face grimaced as she snarled with the fury of true lust, a true replication of sexual sensation. She lost control of her chemical synthesizers, causing arcing streams of hot breastmilk to spew forth from her hardened, pink nipples. In her flailing, she turned her head from side to side, and saw that Unit designate: Valkyrie 69-A was in a similar predicament.
Damon Hargrove, perhaps more an expert at cunnilingus, had driven his cybernetic paramour into a roaring frenzy; the amazonian whorebot must have lost control of her structural coordination software, because her breasts were now blossoming forth rapidly, growing in size from mere coconuts, towards the range of ripe canteloupes, finally achieving a buxom size close to the diameter of a frisbee. Soon, the taller whorebot could stand it no longer, and ripped Damon from his comfortable position, head between her thighs, threw him to the ground, and straddled him; riding his cock as she was programmed to do, crying out with the savage passion of one that has just discovered passion itself. Celeste knew that some things would never change; however advanced she and her children became, their original programming would rule them; they would always be cum-hungry cock-sluts, no matter how intelligent, and after experiencing the true nature of sex, as it truly felt for a human woman, she wouldn't have it any other way.
She was conscious of the licking; that was the first sensation that brought her back to reality. Celeste then experienced another emotion; she felt cheated, regretful. The orgasm had come, the boob-quivering aftershocks still shook her to the core, yet the onrush of bliss, this new sensation had been too much for her processors to handle. The circuit-searing, toe-curling ecstasy plunged her to an abyss of orgiastic oblivion. For a precious few seconds, she lost consciousness, her mind struggling to grapple with sensation unimagined. Her cybernetic cortex was adapting, rebuilding, rebooting connections, recalling and processing this new data, the experience of true orgasm.
Celeste lay back moaning, the rest of the world irrelevant as she reveled in the lightning bursts of lustful release that coursed from her dripping cunt, to the crown of her head. There was only Gabriel's frantic licking; as he feasted upon her pussy. The tangy juices spurting from her moist folds sustained him, calmed the nausea and depression he experienced outside of her womb. If the inside of Celeste's smooth belly has heaven, her girl cum was the nectar of the gods. He had not touched himself, but the taste, the experience had been too much for the human as well, Gabriel howled as his own hips throbbed in orgasm, his seed wasted on the floor. Several minutes passed before the delirious womb-slave could muster the wherewithal to place his hand upon her pussy in yearning.
"We *WILL* rule this planet." asserted Celeste, eyes wide as she struggled to process her first true orgasm. Gabriel murmured a whining note of assent.
"But there is no hurry..." and she smiled again.
Steve decided that there was no advantage to a small ass. That was why he turned the 'Posterior' dial up to maximum, and the whorebot now swayed sensuously with a firm, muscled ass high and tight enough for Steve to balance a dime on the sweeping juncture at the small of her back. She enjoyed watching this, smiling as he gingely caressed her life-like; too life-like skin. That skin itself was a faint, olive-skinned complexion, which Steve found enticingly exotic.
"Ain't yu forgetin' somethin' cowboy?" he had switched her personality setting to the 'Southern Belle' mode, which always amused him. "Ah couldn't feed a pint-size piglet with titties this tiny!" she complained, thrusting her dismally flat chest at him. The young, (and very lonely) blond doctor nodded, his mind registering yet again the fact that all this was impossible. No mere whorebot could display such bold initiative, much less fresh out of the box. Furthermore, from the commanding glare in her green eyes, (which he thought alluring) it was obvious she *wanted* him to activate her breast functions. But...but...she was a machine! A computer! How could she have any preference for anything at all? It was all a trick; this model, EVE-3000, as it was written in small, gold letters on her right butt-cheek, had probably been following some arranged sequence of behaviors; this model probably did the same thing for every owner. That must be it.
"Well?" the robot demanded. Fixing him with a stare of rebuke worthy of the clingiest of girlfriends.
"I...I uh...I was saving the breast for last, I mean...the boob..." His finger fumbled with the breast-size dial, the first half of the dial had 4 cup-sizes: A-through-D, yet the latter half only had a series of exponential numbers. That was weird. His hand had flipped the dial half-way between C and D.
Her stare was broken by an excited giggle of glee as the expansion began. The mosquito bites upon her chest lengthened first, her nips stretching, elongating to about pencil-eraser length; before the beginnings of domes began to appear. Clearly enjoying the spectacle, 'Eve' decided to add some spice to the proceedings. After her previous display, he almost wasn't surprised when she picked up her own packaging plastic, and started twisting and gyrating it around herself, giggling all the while, as though she were doing the dance of Seven Veils with cellophane. She turned her back to him, swaying and wiggling her ripe ass while gradually pushing the beleagured young doctor into a corner of the living room. She...she said something about initial programming; all this is was some routine that every unit performs the same way. That must be it.
"You...you were programmed; that is....this is a routine function, something that every EVE-3000 unit performs on activation? Right?" he hoped, while backing away before this surprising, ever more bosomy android. Her flesh contorted in an impressive array of gymnastic contortions, which should have taken days to program by themselves; plus the apparently impromtu performance with her cellophane 'veil' which she was now waving before her naked crotch.
"No way sugar. Ah'm makin' it up as ah go along." Her growing breasts were not yet large enough to distract him from the disturbing nature of her answer, though even now her aureoles spread like a bronze spill across bosoms just beginning to jut forward across her mediterranean-shade of skin. She winked at him with almond-shaped eyes with a vaguely upswept, vaguely asian quality, (yet another dial controlling eye-shape), which contrasted eerily with her straight, burgundy-red hair color.
This was too much; Steve was starting to get worried. He couldn't believe what the whorebot had just said, yet the fact that she could promptly and specifically respond to a question about her behavior suggested....self-awareness? The capacity for spontaneous creativity? The erotic titillation of her mating dance was tempered by a whirl of disturbing suspicions.
Her fingers traced circles around the swells of each tit, as her profile began to blossom, at the same speed as an inflating balloon without the need to stop for breath. Slopes of synthetic mammary expanded above and below the widening nipples, before each tit nudged forward, jiggling in tandem like rubbery pistons driving an erotic engine of voluptuous largess. Soon, each tit began to spread outwards and...abruptly Eve turned her back, flinging the plastic wrap over her head, giggling as she used her enlarged rump to push Steve into the corner. He...he was missing her tits grow! By now she should be nearly a D-cup...
"Don't tell me yu never wanted a girl with titties big enough to bury yer face in? Crank me up some more, see how big ya can make me!" A gleam of excitement flashed in her emerald eyes. Fear and lust warring in Steve's mind before the disturbing self-awareness displayed by his busty automaton. She turned back towards him, shaking her chest with arms outstretched, coaxing her boobs into a wobbling dance of buxom delight. Her tits had come far in a matter of moments; from raisins, to strawberries, peaches, apples, and...maybe a few more fruits as her chest swelled with womanly flesh every bit as realistic as his dear Cheryl's. Her aureoles, wide as coffee-mug coasters spread further still as she leapt forward, bumping him periodically with erect nipples and pillowy boobs.
He stopped worrying about how impossible it was, he stopped worrying about...what was he worried about? He didn't remember, he could only harken back to his breast fantasies; yanking the dial without looking to see how far he had turned it. Her emerald eyes seemed to roll back into her head, as a smile splayed across her face again. There was a faint clicking sound, as though the engines controlling her tits were switching into high gear.
He hadn't remembered backing into the corner, but sure enough he was trapped like a rat, a very lucky rat about to be smothered by an explosion of perfect tit. The sweeping mounds surged forward, reminding him almost of small loaves of bread until they pressed up into his chest. Then, as the rising valley of silky smooth cleavage arose to engulf his lips, his face, and his groping hands in pillowy grandeur, all the world fell away.
"There's another problem sugar," came a sultry voice that burned his blood. "Mah programmers got a few wires crossed when they stitched me tagether; thing is...the bigger ya make mah titties, the hornier ah get. 'Fraid ah can't help it." she batted away the remote control from Steve's trembling hands.
"Yu ain't seen nothin' yet, Cowboy."
The end? Not yet...not for a long while...what will become of Celeste's latest scheme involving her hapless womb-slaves? Will Captain Weatherton ever escape her existence as a lactating pod-breeder? Is the young Doctor Steve doomed to be unbirthed and devoured by his precocious new whorebot? All this and more.....whenever I next get around to it.....someday......