wait omg i feel so special thank you so much cher🙏🙏
so we can all agree jeff is has never felt the touch of another person before right? and bro makes sexbots for a living right? what if- now hear me out…
he finally says ‘fuck it’ *builds a bot for himself* and it like gains sentience or he messes up the coding somehow and bot!reader just becomes obsessed with him
im so normal about him 🙃
-🧟♂️anon
Glitch
Jeff Pfister x gn!reader
word count: 1.2k
content: MDNI. a wee bit of dubcon bc reader is a sex bot who's coding went haywire but fuck it. so much recreational coke use.
day what fucking ever of cher's kinktober !!
@sinful-creechur
Jeff Pfister was a genius.
Breaking into the sex bot industry years before any other company had the technology or the thought process to do it was probably one of his best ideas yet. All it took was a little deal with Satan, but honestly? He was filthy rich now and banging Ryan Reynolds weekly, which Jeff wholeheartedly believed made the whole 'eternal damnation' thing worth it.
Besides, he was already working on a way to transfer his consciousness into a bot, so if all went well, he'd likely never have to actually face the consequences of that deal. Score.
But, now that they'd started to plateau with their sales, he found he needed to expand the company's horizons. He'd admit, he wasn't actually thinking too hard on the logistics of what he was doing with you, he was just winging it until some form of idea struck him.
Which led to you. It wasn't too difficult to actually make you- mostly just transferring some coding from the other sex bots over to you, and going from there.
And so mayyyyybe you were a little self indulgent. You were a prototype and as an ethical scientist, who was he supposed to test on but himself? But it wasn't exactly harming anything, you were a bot. All of his ideal characteristics in a sexual partner?
Yeah, you were devastatingly hot. He got it, why the fully custom bots sold so well, and really, he's wondering why he didn't do this sooner.
Which meant now it was time for the more advanced coding- beyond the initial copy-paste bullshit he'd used for your base. He's not actually sure what coding he even did- he'd gone through an entire bucket of coke in the night, but whatever he did? Yeah, he did it right.
He could go back through it later when it came time for the real deals.
It was time now though. Maybe you'd turn on or maybe you wouldn't- which would be a massive bummer, considering you may actually be some of his best work- or at the very least his most attractive. Fuck you looked so good.
There's very few feelings in life that can rival an orgasm, in his opinion. But when the project you'd made in the span of 8 hours while on enough coke to kill multiple elephants actually works? Yeah, that tops everything.
Your eyes 'blink' as the electricity goes through your silicone body. He'd probably need to invest in something a bit more realistic to the touch once he moved you out of the prototypes.
He's done this before- he really isn't new to it. Hell, even his first bot success had been catered specifically to him and Mutt, but it hadn't left him this... breathless.
His eyes lock onto yours. No matter how realistic he can get everything else about you, there's a lack of... well, anything, in your eyes. There's no real intelligence, no recognition, no emotion, just... empty.
And your hands are fishing in his pants for his cock while his eyes are still focused on the lack of anything in yours.
"Woah, woah, woah," The laugh bubbles out of him, effectively snapped out of the moment, "Not so fast, let's turn you off..."
Your silicone form slumps over near immediately.
And Jeff Pfister will admit it, he does more coke. After that, he's a little bit dazed, not exactly sure what he did. All he knows for certain is that he left you alone for maybe a bit too long.
And there is zero universe in which you should've gotten up and walked over to him by yourself. Because he knows for a fact that he shut you down.
But that means jack shit when you're crawling under his desk and leaning your head on his thigh with a drawled out, "Whatcha doin'?"
"Je-sus." He yelps, pushing the wheeled chair back like he's been burned by the fiery pits of hell a few decades too early.
How the everloving hell are you moving right now?
"I was waiting for you to come back, but you took upwards of 97 minutes..." You trail off, crawling back between his legs again, cool lips pressing against his inner thighs, "Whatcha doin'?"
Jeff swears under his breath, tilting his head back as you start to shimmy his pants off. He hates to admit it- no he doesn't actually, he's perfectly fine admitting that he's extremely turned on by this.
And your mouth feels incredible on his cock, the way you mouth and suckle at it.
"O-oh shit, I didn't give you a gag reflex." He realizes while you ease him down your throat.
God, this is great. That's the best part about fucking a bot, he thinks. You don't need to breathe, you don't need to gag, you just let him fuck your throat like a fleshlight until he's spilling a load down the synthetic passage.
Even once he pulls out, the weight of your head is still rested on his inner thigh, a little dribble of his semen leaking from the corner of your lips. Maybe your sensors are off, maybe he really did just fuckup the code, but you don't even seem to notice it.
"You're not gonna shut down, are you?" He muses to himself, running a hand through shaggy bleached hair.
You don't respond, but he knows the signs. You're still up and running.
A long sigh escapes Jeff while he pinches his nose between thumb and forefinger. Well... might as well make use of the extra set of hands.
And you follow his every instruction so wonderfully- really, even though you'd clearly glitched in such an extreme way, you were still fulfilling your purpose.
It's like having a walking fleshlight, who may or may not be aware that it's not actually real. He isn't actually aware of how to broach that subject without risking a potential spiral on your part- and with no way to turn you off? He'll admit, he's just finding ways to run your battery down.
And if that means lots and lots of filthy, nasty sex? All over the lab? Well, that's just science.
But it's been hours now. And he's really feeling it.
"Come on, come on, come on." He mutters, getting jittery now.
You follow him without protest to a lab table- the very table he'd made you on.
"Up, up, up." He continues, laying you out.
You're bare on the table- considering he'd never actually given you clothes to begin with- and if he wasn't aware otherwise, he'd think your battery was finally run down.
It's with practiced ease that he lays several lines of coke on your body. From your chest, to your thighs, and he's heavily considering flipping you over once he's finished with the current ones to do a line off your ass.
And if he times it right...
Your battery gives out right as he gets to your navel.
