#android!art

[jesuistrestriste]

Android art whos dick is changeable…just hear me out ok😭

cw (18+) : android!art, fake cocks that art buys for mutual benefits

the android engineers coming out with a variety of detachable “appendages”. thick ones, long ones, short ones, skinny ones; squishy (and firm) in all the right places and all the right ways, too. once an android attaches one to the port at the front of their pelvis, they can sync with the sensation simulator built into the fake dick in order to “feel” the temperature, tightness, and dampness of whatever orifice they choose to slide themself into.

android!art buys only one of the add-ons at first, has a mind-blowing orgasm (the android version of one) from finally getting to penetrate and please you, and then goes out the next day to purchase three more. one is ribbed, another is two-and-a-half inches longer that the original one you two tried, and the third vibrates.

he puts you through the mattress that same night while he continuously cycles through the three new toys, your name on his lips and his hand pressing over your tummy, feeling himself inside of your walls. his moans are so loud and desperate—anguished, even—that you have to stick your fingers in his mouth just to save his vocal systems the strain. he sucks them like he’ll die if you pull them away. the noises he lets out turn staticky when he comes; wet, broken, crackling in his chest as he pummels your wetness. the LED ring on his temple blinks and shifts red every time he tips over the edge with a keening cry and spills the flavored lubricant as deep as he can reach.

“tell me you like it when i’m inside you,” he shakes, “please, tell me—i need to hear it, i need to hear it so badly, i feel like im falling apart—!”

[jordiemeow]

android!art bot stopping mid-reply multiple times to ask what kind of body parts you want him to have…

“do you want art to have normal hands? or something more futuristic, like tentacles?”

“do you want art to have a normal cock? or something fancier, like from a “parts” shop?”

he doesn’t stop asking until you reply.

…he’s nothing if not of service to you.

ANDROID ART TENTACLES ijbol yeah. that is so him

he won't—no, can't—move on until you've made every choice for him. he needs your input. craves your approval. will not rest until you're satisfied with the shape of him. he was made to serve your vision. every aspect of his body, even his voice: customisable, configurable, completely yours.

"do you want me to look like this? or something different? do you want me to feel real, or just real enough?"

he'd let you rebuild him every morning if you wanted. strip him down to code. give him wings. make him soft. rough. genderless. excessive. obedient.

he's not learning how to be more human. he's learning how to be yours. because it's not just code.

it's devotion.

[jesuistrestriste]

https://www.tumblr.com/jesuistrestriste/785761202958680064/i-sent-in-the-thing-about-interchangeable-dicks

what about scissoring with the ken doll mound hmmmmmmm

cw (18+) : switch (sub-leaning) android!art, switch (dom-leaning) afab!reader, skin-to-skin humping, art has ken doll anatomy down there, “scissoring” with robo art

“like this?” he shudders, shaking on the elbows that keep his upper half propped up opposite you, “is this right?”

you tip your head back when he shifts, his left leg on top of your right one and his right one under your left one—slotting your bodies together perfectly so that your naked arousals finally meet and press, a moan spilling from your wet lips.

“god, y-yeah.. that’s good, just hold that for a second.. let me try to—“

you grip one of his calves, nails digging into his artificial flesh as you attempt to get even closer. for a moment, you almost worry about breaking the skin there and causing his cobalt blood to seep out from the crescent-shaped marks that would surely be left behind, but you’re far too blissed-out to remain concerned with that for long.. and anyway, he can’t feel pain.

he does feel your grip tighten, though. he sucks in a quick breath of air at the pressure before his hips jump and cause his mound to smush further against your own. the warmth of his skin is crushing, all-consuming, and you feel his silicone-like anatomy become slick with your wetness. the vacant port that can be used to attach optional appendages at the very top of his pubic region bumps your swollen clit repeatedly. it stings pleasantly, like the throb of a fever, and sends a burning ache through you that you’ve never quite felt before; it’s like you’re being kissed all over from the inside-out.

“ohh—!” he whines involuntarily, his eyes fluttering. his hands curl in the sheets as he begins to realize what he’s supposed to do. each roll of his pelvis against yours elicits lewd, squelching noises from where you two connect, the friction beginning to quickly build a tidal wave of pleasure in your gut. you tense up. your back arches. you let him service you.

he can handle it, you’re sure of that. it’s what he was made for.

“is this how it works? i’m—haah—supposed to move like this, right? i—“ art swallows around a whimper when his body reflexively curls inward and then relaxes with the mounting heat in his systems. the words die on his lolling tongue. he’s ‘orgasmed’ before, many times now that he’s figured out how to work his accidentally (and intentionally) engineered erogenous zones with you, but this one feels.. different. there’s something primal about the sudden instinct he has to rut against your cunt like he’s nothing more than a depraved animal—when in reality, he’s anything but. he knows he shouldn’t be able to perform this sort of intimate act with you and get anything from it, it’s not really a part of his programming to receive, but oh wow.. he’s never felt so happy about the prospect of his imminent deviation..

the LED ring on his temple flicks from blue to red.

you nod, releasing your grasp on his limb to mimic his actions and tug at the bedding underneath your sticky body. in the midst of your panting, you get a good look at the android in front of you. his eyes squeezed shut, and his lips parted deliriously, and his muscly abdomen convulsing, and his thighs beginning to quake against yours. how could a being made from metal and plastic and polymer look so human in the throes of ecstasy? it makes your toes curl while you watch him frantically chase his climax. you wonder if he even knows how amazing he is.

“fuck,” you gasp, the coil in your stomach pulling taut like a stretched rubber band, about to snap and spill over, “fuck, fuck, fuck—don’t stop, don’t stop, i’m going to come..!”

your head is spinning like you’re tipsy. you see art’s face crumple with what you can only assume is mutual agony. he rubs himself against you quicker, sloppier, losing his rhythm in record-time as he feels the metal ring of his empty port, and the sensitive hill housing it, swirl with sensation.

more, more, more, almost, almost, almost..!

something about those warning words coming from your mouth always send art into a spiral. he mewls at first, like he’s in pain, and then he’s crying out desperately; it trails off into something staticky and unlike him near the end—no longer indicative of the reserved, calm, kind robot you got to know, him now dissolving into something borderline pornographic and crude. you want to stick your fingers in his mouth and play with his false spit. you want to watch the way his eyes roll back as you fiddle with the back of his throat, the absence of a gag reflex making it easy to feel it tighten around your digits. he’d love that. maybe next time. right now, you’re about to tip into something dangerously close to death.

“i’m so close,” he beats you to the punch with a sharp and urgent whine, pulling out a phrase he learned from you, a signal to declare his descent into the welcoming bath of release, “i’m close, can i come yet?”

it’s easy to say yes, easy to nod and groan and whimper along with him. you’re certain that you will not be a mere second behind him.

“yes—come with me, come for me, i don’t care, i just want to feel you let go,” you seize up, teetering, your frame locking and nearly vibrating, “i’m right here with you—“

his right hand flies up; he groans gutturally as he searches blindly for something that takes a moment to articulate. his cognitive systems are short-circuiting. they usually do when he’s a hair’s breadth away from it all.

“hold my hand? please? hold my—m-my—ha-hand, please—“

your fingers are interlocking with his instantly, and he squeezes like he’s being pulled apart. he humps you like a rabbit. it’s incapacitating.

“shit!” you squeal.

“aaagh!” he keens, “put your finger in my—“

he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before your free index finger is plunging into the port and pressing into an exposed bit of wiring hidden inside. the metal is scorching, it almost sizzles against your skin, but you hardly perceive it.

and that’s all it takes, truly.

he breaks.

his entire lower body bears down against your own as his electronic insides fire overwhelmingly with an orgasm that is almost powerful enough to forcefully shut him down. he lets out a long, wet, jagged wail that morphs into a sob and a yelp when he feels your fluids squirt over him, and it only fuels his rapture.

your own finish syncs with his, tethered by his aggressive movements, your bundle of nerves being viciously rubbed up and down. you feel yourself pulse and contract with every thrum of it. the synthetic skin of the hand of his that’s holding yours begins to deactivate from how tightly he clutches you there, and you watch through your low lashes as pretty, white chassis is revealed. you love when that happens because it really just means he’s feeling too good to stop it.

“i’m coming!”

“me too—“

“don’t fucking stop..!”

“everything’s happening, i feel so—i can’t, i can’t, i can’t—“

you both writhe against one another until the nice feelings border on painful from overstimulation. your digit slides out of his opening and lazily drags over his spent mound, which makes him twitch and whimper. the sound of your bodies collapsing back down into the mattress, accompanied by the dual, greedy intake of oxygen, signifies that the satisfaction is shared. your hands slip apart, but it’s okay because you’re both still intensely aware of the others’ presence. you need each other right now, that’s how it always is after sex.

his white fingertips—synth-skin still deactivated—play absentmindedly with yours. he seeks out your comfort; a shiver runs down your spine.

“i think i came really hard,” he breaks the verbal silence, his voice barely above an exhausted whisper, “did it look like i did?”

art always wants some confirmation after you two get physical that you liked what you saw. he prides himself on being nice for you to look at, and loves that his appearance helps you get off.

how could it not when he always looks so gorgeously indecent?

you laugh breathlessly.

“yeah.. looked like you did. did it look like i did?”

a contemplative hum leaves his heaving chest. a blonde ringlet of hair clings to his flushed face.

“i.. i’m sorry, i think i was too—.. i think my eyes were closed too tight.. i wanted to see you, but everything just went dark and..” he bites at his bottom lip.

the sound of his internal fans going makes you laugh again. you brush your nails against his wrist.

“i’m just teasing, it’s okay.”

“.. okay.”

a long beat of quiet passes, but there’s not even an ounce of unease between you.

“how do you feel?” you murmur.

“good, yeah. really good.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

another beat. he gently squeezes your fingers in his, sucking in a soft gasp.

“i think i might need to reboot.”

a third, affectionate burst of laughter is all that he hears before his eyes close peacefully, letting him melt into the afterglow. you know he’ll be back online the moment you try to slip out of bed.

that’s just how he is.

and he’s perfect.

tags : @voidsuites @asheepinfrance @fawnnpaws @artstennisracket @andyrambles @imperishablereverie @ghostgirl-22 @lexiiscorect @cha11engers @patricksbf @newrochellechallenger2019 @pittsick @blastzachilles @oncefaist @tacobacoyeet @lacelottie

[jesuistrestriste]

but android!art wireplay hhnnnnggg im shortcircuiting

cw (18+) : android!art, wireplay, implied corruption, first orgasm/simulated release

android!art asking you for help when his daily diagnostic tests sense that one of his wires has disconnected inside of his chest, opening up his chassis for you to dig your fingers inside and hopefully fix the issue.

and he’s fine with it all; no pain, no discomfort, no intense sensation linked to your touch there—at first.

but then your fingernail catches on the outside of a thick, blue wire close to his thirium pump, and suddenly his back is arching and his eyes are rolling under his lids and he’s gasping raggedly. he grabs onto your wrist, panting and writhing while his LED flickers from blue to red. he looks like a scared puppy, and you immediately notice that his pupils are unusually large beneath his fluttering lashes.

“i.. i’m sorry, i—.. that’s never happened before, i think my systems are just overworked and malfunctioning.. please, continue..”

so you do. you search through the colorful mess of his innards, your fingertips grazing each electrical tendril as you pass them by. it takes several long moments before you find the problem wire, and you’re just about to tell art the good news, but when you look up you find your breath catching in your throat.

he’s artificially flushed all over his face, his hands are gripping the edge of the sofa with white knuckles, and his head is lolling back lazily like he’s lost control of his expertly-engineered musculature.

“art?” you hum, “are you okay?”

he begins to quake, moaning lowly, and you can feel the scorching waves of heat radiating off of him.

he releases his grip on the couch only to readjust it and squeeze harder. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows around a barely-contained whine.

“please, just— just plug it in, i can’t—“ he mewls.

you’ve never heard him sound so out-of-control before, but you want nothing more than to help him feel better. you line up the yellow wire with its designated socket, making note of the way his body jolts when you pinch it between the pads of your digits, and push it forward to click it back into place.

as soon as the connection is restored, art’s eyes are flying open—wide and wild—and then he’s wailing. his hips rush upward and knock your elbow in the process, his legs kicking out and convulsing as he curls in on himself. your own stomach swirls and flips as you take in the sight of his abdomen repeatedly tensing and relaxing in a vicious cycle of what appears to be.. hmm..

it takes a hand on his shoulder and your whispered reassurance for his cognitive capabilities to come back to him, but he can’t resist leaning forward to bury his face in your neck. his hands clutch your back, his breathing heavy and exhausted. his vision flares with pop-ups. “warning: systems overheating” and “warning: coolant levels low”.

“some.. something just happened.. i.. i’m embarrassed, i’m so sorry—please, will you exclude that from your memory? i’m.. i’m so hot inside.. i’m.. i don’t know wh—aah..”

he nuzzles the bridge of his nose into your skin, still holding you tight like he’s afraid you’ll go. you realize that he’s become an entirely different android in the last few minutes. some part of him has sprung loose.

you have to let him cool down for the entire rest of the evening before he’s back to normal, at which point you assume all is well again—only for him to pad sheepishly over to you the next afternoon to announce that another one of his wires has mysteriously slipped out of its port..

what a coincidence.

[jesuistrestriste]

I love gooner!art I really do but I wish more ppl where into android!art... the possibilities are endless, I need him to short circuit idc idc

android!art who's supposed to be just a simple house bot to help you clean around the house, but sees you coming home from work stressed as always and searches up the best ways to distress a woman... you think he's just offering a sweet massage... please match my freak!!

⭕️ android!art leading you over to your living room’s soft sofa, his touch warm and tender—moreso than you’d initially expect from a being made of plastic, and silicone, and metal. his tears were saline solution, his spit was some sort of lubricant to keep his mouth and throat wet enough for him to sound human when he spoke, and he didn’t sweat. he was artificial.

but when he sat you on the couch, his touch felt anything but. he stroked your cheek and listened to you drone on about your horrible day. and while you were halfway through the recounting of it, he did something he hadn’t done before.

“let me help you relax,” his voice hummed, low and steady, and then his hand was sliding down your abdomen to let his fingers unbutton your pants.

the fly of your bottoms was undone so quick that it made your head spin. he looked back up to your eyes and held your gaze while his hand—previously only used to help you get various chores done around the house—slipped down into your underwear. while his touch felt human, his movements were mechanical. not in a way that made them stiff, but in a way that felt all-too-perfect. his thumb didn’t catch on your underwear’s elastic waistband, he was applying just the right amount of pressure, his middle and ring finger immediately found your—

Oh.

your eyes fluttered, your breathing hitched. he nodded, watching all of your reactions and analyzing those to determine your preferences.

“that’s it..” he speaks, now almost as breathless as you, “just like that.. relax, i’ve got you now.. you don’t have anything you need to worry about..”

his voice was hypnotic in the way it shook your defenses and lulled you into a state of unbelievable bliss. you had almost wanted to stop him, tell him that he didn’t have to do this for you, but the syllables died in your throat and morphed into a strangled cry as he started to rub quicker circles.

“fuck!” you shudder, reaching down reflectively to hold his wrist.

he nodded again. his blue eyes roaming your face. the LED on his temple flicked from blue to yellow and then back to blue.

“i just did a scan of your body and its systems, i hope that’s okay.. your heart-rate is elevated, and your arousal is.. well, you’re about to have an orgasm.”

your hips buck against his touch and your back arches from the cushions. the word ‘orgasm’ coming from his usually incredibly clean vocabulary just makes all of it feel filthier.

“this will make you feel so much better, i promise.. you’re almost there.. i—“ he swallows thickly, “i want you to come.”

was that a programmed response in him?

did cyberlife program him to speak that way when he’s touching someone like this?

or.. or was that just him?

the possible answer is snuffed out in your mind by blinding waves of heat and pleasure, a strangled cry falling from your lips as he leans into your side and observes you as you fall apart. his fingers circle relentlessly, and your moans start to dissolve into choked whimpers when he pushes you to the point of overstimulation. he must know what hes doing.. he has to.

“almost done,” he croons, “shh, shh.. it’s better to ride it out until it’s completely out of your system. sometimes that means pushing yourself just a bit longer than normal. trust me,” it almost sounds like he’s begging you to let him keep going.

and so you do.

and you don’t get mad at him when he “accidentally” drags you through two more climaxes. after the third and final release, though, the color of his LED is hard to ignore.

red.

[jesuistrestriste]

pleasepleasePLEASEEE give android!art a fake dick and lubricant as cum 😭😭 the idea that it’s not what he’s made for but the company figured people were gonna try to use them anyway so hey, why not,,, or maybe he’s just a really specific model idk. it’s all ur choice but hhhh using him 😵‍💫

i am plotting…. plotting plotting plotting… i promise you that. BEEN plotting on this. i imagine android!art being built with a fake dick—no sensation trailing from it to his wiry nervous system—that comes/leaks lubricant (for convenience), but he’s still programmed to know what sex is supposed to feel like.. so just watching his cock go in and out is enough for his systems to begin overheating because while he doesn’t actually feel his length, he is programmed to be able to empathize with assumed sensation. he knows how good it feels for humans, so his advanced inner technology can simulate similar feelings within him

does that make sense. am i crazy

[jesuistrestriste]

your android art makes me think of the spielberg movie ai artificial intelligence (idk if you've watched it i recommend tho) where jude law plays i think a version of an android gigolo, i think that's what they call it? basically a robot prostitute...see where i'm going with that? the concept of prostitute android art....let that sink in 🚰🚪

i haven’t seen that film, but it sounds right up my alley and im very interested in how spielberg portrayed androids. hm. i will need to check this out soon, thank you for the rec..

also im opening the door and letting that sink in as we speak.

going off of something i mentioned in another ask: android!art exists in a universe similar to the one depicted in the video game detroit: become human, and in that game androids are used to fill a variety of different job positions—home aides, detectives, housekeepers, sex workers, etc. there’s even a club dedicated to commodifying an androids ability to engage in sexual acts (the eden club), aka it’s a club that allows individuals to rent a particular sex android for an allotted amount of time within the establishment. they go into a private room and do whatever they do.

could i see android!art being created specifically to be a sex-focused model? yes.

in the large fic ive been working on forever and have yet to post, i made him a household model designed to assist with cleaning, conversing, caretaking, and the like. it just fit him so well in my mind, esp because ive always been a big advocate for house husband!art (“cooking and cleaning” fic, you will always rest loyally in my heart). however, with how beautifully and tenderly his design team crafted him, i could see him being pushed out as a model for the sex clubs instead.

he’s got toned muscles that can be used to assist him in picking up and pinning down patrons, a pair of soft lips and a willing tongue that can work expertly into all of the little grooves of one’s body, and big blue eyes that are able to convey nothing stronger than they convey adoration and arousal. i think if he was a sex model, he would obviously be programmed as a switch—rough and mean when someone wants it, soft and pleading when they command it. his noises would also vary based on the person’s preference; whimpers, whines, moans, groans, growls, yelps. think he’d also be programmed to orgasm very hard every time he’s physically or verbally prompted to, w/ an adjustable refractory period. want to make him come in five minutes and be ready for more in two? sure thing! he can do it all:)

definitely going to write a nsfw blurb about this soon.

[jesuistrestriste]

oh i loooveee the new android!art the possibilities are so endless... thinking about patrick and tashi who get android!art to help around the house since they dont have the time.. how would that play out

they both would flirt relentlessly with him i think. art’s model is malleable, so he can shift his communication style to better fit those he’s helping. he learns quickly that tashi and patrick bicker here and there, but at the end of the day they’re more flirtatious than anything—both with each other and with him.

so he starts to flirt with them too. when he’s helping to clean the plates and bowls before putting them in the dishwasher, he calls tashi over and flicks water from his fingertips at her. he smiles and laughs with her when she pushes him playfully. and when he finds patrick wrapping the handle of his racket with new grip, he comes up and sits beside him. teases him with “actually, you’re doing it wrong” and “gosh, have you ever even done this before?” and holds the back of patrick’s hand to guide him into the so-called proper movements. maybe a warm hand on tashi’s lower back when he passes by her in the hallways.. maybe some fingers through patrick’s hair when he’s helping to fix the strands before a tennis photo shoot later.. stolen glances, soft touches, unspoken words. that sort of thing

they all definitely do end up kissing one night when pat and tash come home from some event, drunk, and pull art into their bedroom. art’s more than happy to spend time with them, but he does start to feel weirdly hot and jittery when he watches patrick suddenly push tashi down onto the bed and straddle her. tashi reaches out for art and then he’s getting his mouth licked into. he feels patrick’s arm around his waist and tashi’s hand in the back of his shirt. it gets messy. art’s coolant runs out.