Fumbling Towards Ecstacy
Day 26: Masturbation
It's not often they get the whole lab to themselves.
Strange how silent the night can become when deprived of the endless hum of overheating servers and the clatter of metal. The dim halls are absent of workaholic engineers, sleep-deprived programmers, and pushy executives. Everyone had returned home relatively on time this particular evening, leaving V1 to their own devices.
Well, V2 is still up and about, probably still engrossed with that Old World TV show. Sure, their successor was decent enough company (when he wasn't bragging about themselves). But they enjoy their rare, lonely nightwalks around the lab, when everything unimportant is left unlocked, and they won't be gently urged away from the things they really want to see.
V1 counts the offices as they pass them, reading each name plate upon the doors. Adam, Miranda, Joey, Eli; faces that connect to the hands that had built them. Faces that don't have cold, gray eyes.
Finally, they spot the one labeled 'Summer'. They wonder if their earlier distraction worked; if the slightly scatter-brained technician had forgotten to finish powering down her work station. They hold their metaphorical breath, and nudge open the doors.
The cramped room is awash with tiny, flashing squares of light, coming from the monster of a processor shoved against the back wall. V1 picks up the distinct tune of whirring cooling fans. Robotic parts lay scattered on a nearby desk, and just beneath, the little monitor projector identical to every other found throughout these offices. Instead of being completely dark, a single yellow light blinks on and off rhythmically.
Their wings flare with delight and nearly knock over the nearby maintenance hangar. The warmachine swiftly tucks them back in, and eagerly helps themselves to the slightly-beaten chair. They use the resulting momentum to slide forward, twisting the seat around until they're flush with the edge of the desk.
With a deft press of the only button upon it, light bursts forth from the opening, fanning out into a browser window. They're immediately bombarded with text; a news article concerning the New Peace and its upcoming third anniversary. Nothing that particularly interests them.
They skip to the next: another article. The picture of the park in the headline is nice, so V1 snapshots the digital photo with their auxiliary lens, and clicks the next one down.
The robotic parts for sale are interesting, and they'll definitely be bothering Summer about it in the morning. Her email inbox shows up next. One from Joey, four from Eliza, and a whopping seventeen from Dr. Hollis herself. They're almost tempted to delete those.
But they like Summer, and getting her in trouble would be counterproductive to her ability to perform much needed maintenance on them. So they leave those alone. They get enough of Hollis's icy words during mission simulations as it is. V1 clicks the last one, eager to open a new tab and browse the internet unsupervised, when they register the picture in the video player.
A naked human woman, lying upon a massive bed, utterly entwined with a machine. Her expression is twisted with delight, hands clutching at smooth plating and legs thrown around its hips.
V1's optic roves over the static image, at the stretch of bare flesh and metal. The longer they stare, the more they feel their processors begin to grow warm. To the point where their internal fans kick on automatically in an effort to keep them from overheating.
Could this be... ?
They rewind the video to the start and hurriedly hit play.
Black fades into white, and shows the pair at the start of the video, on their knees upon the mattress and their hands all over one another already. Music, laden with electronic tunes and instrumental samples, begins to pour from the speakers hooked up to the projector.
V1 watches, utterly enraptured, as the woman in the video brings her hand down its smooth metal plating, trailing carefully until her fingers reach the machine's crotch panel. They trace the faint outline there with slow, gentle movements. Her lips press to their face-plate, breath fogging upon the black glass with a bright pink, flashing heart symbol shining through, bathing her dark skin in brilliant magenta.
What is this feeling?
It flows throughout their wires like a physical thing, hot and heady like the taste of bloodfuel on their plating after a long day of simulations. But this is different. It doesn't satisfy them, no, it leaves something like hunger in its wake; a heady, newfound craving for--for--
In the video, its panel slides away. V1 jolts with realization as the machine's silicone dick presses eagerly into her hand. Her hand wraps around the girth, and slowly begins to stroke it. A low, metallic whine leaves the robot, and the sound sends a spark arcing through their system, burrowing into their pleasure centers.
They know what sex is, how it works. It was just one piece of information among countless others, provided to them about the various features of their body when they were first activated. But they'd never thought it would feel like... this.
A quick command releases their own cock, lubricant beading at the tip. They wrap their palm around it curiously.
And they nearly jump from the chair when the contact sends lightning from their dick to their central processor with an electrifying surge. They're so sensitive, fans audibly whining with this newfound source of reward signals that light up every sensory receptive they have.
They begin mimicking the woman's motions; up, then down, a twist of the wrist that nearly makes their optic short out. V1 chases the feeling it brings with fervor, attention turning back to the video.
The slick sounds of lubricant being spread across previously untouched silicone join the obscene, metallic moans beginning to unfold throughout the clip. They watch her stroke its cock until the brilliantly violet organ pressurizes completely. She then pushes it into the mattress, straddling its hips. The camera changes angle into full view of her folds spreading as she sinks down on its dick. A shudder wracks them, chassis groaning for a moment.
They tug at themselves harder, visuals fixed on the video, but suddenly lost in their own head. V1 imagines Summer's hands instead of their own (why was she watching this here at the lab?); Miranda atop them, her breasts bouncing as they push up into her; Eli, touching himself like they do now as he rides them? The constructed scenarios flash through their mind, cycling randomly. It's not enough. They want to know more, more, more--
With a high-pitched whine, errors surge across their visuals, blinding them as fire pulses through their wires. Their back arches off the chair as the reward feedback loops over and over again.
And then V1 crashes without warning. It leaves them slumped back in their seat with countless warning messages blocking their view. The video's still going over, somewhere over the distant sound of their fans winding back down.
As soon as they regain control of their limbs, they reach over and tap the pause button before reclining back in the seat. They ride their afterglow in silence as their systems at last start to restabilize, draining just a few extra units of blood.
Their focus comes back to the holos, projecting the frozen image of a change in position. The machine looms over her, cock buried in her pussy, and the human is crouched on all fours, her face locked in a rapturous expression.
V1 moves to touch the translucent screen again, when they catch sight of milky white lubricant splattered upon their fingers. A glance down reveals much of the same, streaked across their chassis. It's on the chair, too; that's likely going to be a pain to clean up.
...they'll worry about it later. There's more videos advertised all about the webpage. So much more to see and learn.
