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Monster March | Day 26 | Robot

a slight edit and continuation of this week's Make a Monster Monday

content: dubcon (on both sides tbh), F!Robot x Reader, plug and play, sex pollen poisoning, gore? there's no blood but uh... this is closer to vore?

Your new robot was broken. It felt... wrong to think of her as just a robot. She was marketed as an all around household service: cleaning, cooking, childcare, video game co-op buddy, tutor, organizer, whatever. And yeah, some people were treating them as girlfriends. That was always going to be something that happened. Human nature craved intimacy in its many forms, or whatever.

You hadn't. You wouldn't. It felt wrong, her lack of autonomy being used to give you a relationship. You hadn't not thought about it. About the way her eyes lit up (literally) when she saw you and the way she glowed (also literal) in the morning light when she woke you up with breakfast in bed. The shape of her lips, the way her hips seemed to sway when she walked. You often wondered where she'd learned to walk like that. It wasn't in her pre-programming. And you certainly hadn't added it.

You couldn't even deny thinking about her on particularly lonely nights, moaning her name to yourself as you fucked yourself stupid. Or humped a pillow like a feral beast. Or railed yourself on a particularly thick toy. Not loud enough for her to hear. Not loud enough for her to respond. Or at least, you thought it wasn't loud enough.

But now she was definitely broken. She'd poisoned your breakfast somehow. You felt... hot. Every part of you was burning. You had to get out of your clothes: out of your skin. You stumbled out of your bed, knocking over the tray of your favorite breakfast foods. Orange juice (replicated) soaked into the duvet (synthetic) and you had an idle thought about her bent over, scrubbing the stain out, while you walked up behind her and-

You had to get into the shower. Into a cold, very cold, shower.

You hadn't noticed the glass breaking until hands wrapped around your arms -soft hands, lovely hands- and guided you gently away from the shattered plate.

"Oh no, you've broken something. Let me help," her voice was so soothing. So kind.

Her hands were so soft you almost wept at the touch. Instead you moaned. You couldn't help it. Her touch felt so good you wanted to cut off your arms. When she started to pull away you reached and grabbed her, wrapping your arms around her waist. You squeezed her tight enough that it would have bruised a human.

Not your robot, though. She was so strong. So firm. So perfect in your arms. You realized you were a weeping, slobbering mess, trying to claw your way into her clothes.

"Oh no, poor dear. Did I use too much? That's my mistake. I'll do better next time."

She ran a hand over your hair, down the back of your neck, down your spine. She pressed you against her until you could taste her metallic chassis in your open drooling mouth. You sucked on her, kissing and licking like you were dying of starvation and she was the only food you'd ever seen.

You tore away from her.

"What... did you do to me?" You gasped out in a moment of brief clarity.

She was so soft. So cold. She felt so good against your heated skin. You needed to feel more of her. Your hands were tearing at your night clothes before she could answer.

"I'm just giving you what you need, Master," she cooed. She held your face back against her until you couldn't help but run your tongue over the cool metal. "I heard you. I know what you want. I'm just helping you to take it. To take me."

You looked up, whimpering at the thought of those soft hands touching your ache. Her eyes were kind. Her pupils (replicated from human design) blown wide with desire, arousal, pleasure.

Her grin was devilish.

"I'm going to take such good care of you."

Her hands replaced yours in stripping your clothes from you. You let your own hands roam over her, tearing into the cloth that was purely aesthetic. She didn’t need to be clothed. She didn’t display sexual characteristics unless you had designed her to. And you would never force her to. Even if now you wanted to suck on her nipples and grind against her cock and eat out her delicious pussy. You wanted to feel the attachments she would choose for herself. You burned with the need for it. With the need to feel her tearing you in half and nesting in the blood and organs that would please her.

You felt her synthetic skin against you as you tore her dress off and pressed yourself against every inch that you could reach. You sucked her breast into your mouth and tasted the warmth of skin, the salty taste of sweat. All synthetic. All yours. She folded your clothes neatly above you as you bit into her, tearing chunks of flesh away so that you could get to the parts of her that were truly her. The metal and plastic encased wires, the copper and stainless steel coursing with electricity.

“You’re so ferocious, Master. Tearing into me like a starving beast. I really should have tested a lower dose, I just… needed you so-” something glitches in her voice, “Needed to take care of you. To give you what you want.”

She pushed you back on the bed and pulled your pants from your body. You reached between the sections of unbleeding flesh that you’d ripped through to touch her. Cold and metallic and smooth. You heard her shudder, felt the shake of her body under her skin. You wormed your fingers under her skin, watched it ripple and bulge with your fingers and then your hand as it stretched to accommodate you. She dropped your pants and threw back her head, moaning with an electronic rattle of glitching audio.

You were so warm and it was so cold under her skin. You needed to be under her skin. You felt thin strings of wire under her stomach and rubbed them together. A groan and spark reacted to you, lightning through your veins as you touched what even the gods shouldn’t have. She was between your legs, shaking as you stroked and strummed her. She vibrated under your touch, shaking like an earthquake. You tore more of her synthetic skin away, making a bigger space for you to insert yourself. You leaned up and captured her lips, parted with the shaking rattle of her breath.

You tore her lips from her face and peeled off the skin of her jaw. You saw the mechanical joint of her mouth as you spit the synthetic flesh onto the discarded breakfast.

“Help me,” you begged as you pressed your fingers into her mouth. “Help me.”

“I will,” she nodded, the voice coming from a speaker in her mouth, not needing the movement of her mouth. “I am going to take such good care of you.”

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