Cumraku (Commission)

Wowzers, going all in on these sexy AI stories aren't I? I hope y'all like stories about a guy getting put into a sexbot body and then reprogrammed into being a cum-loving sextoy! Basically my origin story, if I had a sexbot body. Iffy consent and mind play from here on forward, so fair warning! But I don't think it's too mean, just lewd. Plus hey, who doesn't love mad scientists getting their kermuffins? I sure do.

Please, enjoy! And I apologise for the name. No I don't.

****************

“Uhh, sir?” Monica said, peeking out from behind the camera, “You’re monologuing again.”

Doctor Jericho’s face scrunched. “I was? I didn’t...I couldn’t tell. Where were we before I went off track?” He straightened out his meticulously pressed lab coat, its left breast embroidered with a monogram in gold thread. The scientist was pushing 40 and had the male pattern baldness to match. He remained a tightly wound ball of grievance and nerves that would suit any petulant teenager.

Monica rewound back to when his eyes sparkled and looked off into the distance. “You were talking about when your funding was cut.”

“Ah yes! Okay okay, record again...The Academy of Ethically Ambiguous Scientists were FOOLS to cut off my grant money right when I was on the cusp of the greatest discovery of the 22nd century. Behold!” 

He tugged the sheet off the lumpy chair in front of him to reveal his masterpiece. He’d used an off-the-shelf VR chair as the foundation, but it contained thousands of times more sensors to record neural activity in absolute minutiae. One cable from the back of the neural plug lead into the control suite off to the side of the room, whereas the other hung limp.

“I call it my Neural Uplink Device, or NUD. What was once considered the sole reign of science fiction is now possible: the complete and total upload of a human consciousness to a mechanical body!” 

“Uhh, Doc?”

Jericho scoffed. “What now?”

“There’s no body,” Monica said, pointing to the opposite side of the NUD, where the receiver end dangled in the air.

The gesticulating scientist did a double-take. When he confirmed that, yes, he had just made an ass out of himself, he made a slashing gesture across his throat to his assistant. “Delete that take, goddamnit. Where did the OctoBot go?”

His assistant looked beyond tired. Dark circles under her brown eyes gave her a distinctly mousy appearance, and although she was slightly taller than Jericho, you wouldn’t have known it by the way she slouched her shoulders. Chestnut hair pulled back into a hasty ponytail and a frumpy, stained labcoat and days old jeans completed the look: Postgrad Chique.

“You said that its hardware was too simplistic to handle your magnificence. You wanted to find another test machine, but you didn’t let me help. So you gave up and started refilming your taunt film,” Monica recited.

He nodded hesitantly, as if the events of the last few hours were half-remembered fables. “Yes...yes well, we might as well shelve the video for now. Maybe we can film the results instead. What options for a body do we have?”

Monica, who had three Ph.Ds herself, went over to the designated robot scrap closet to crawl through its assembled junk and find a machine with enough computing capacity to be worthy of holding Doctor Jericho’s colossal mind. In her opinion, there wasn’t anything the bloviating tyrant had that couldn’t fit onto a digital watch, let alone a q-brane. But if she was going to get anywhere with her own plans, she’d have to continue to be a gofer...for a little while yet, at least. Without funding from the Academy, this gig would dry up faster than Lake Superior. 

She dug around the closet, gloved hands diving into old circuit boards and memory chips. At some point, these had been the contents of a robot repair business. They’d liquidated their assets after going out of business, and Jericho was a bit of a hoarder with old robotic tech. Hell, Monica didn’t think he’d even seen half this stuff.

Her suspicions were confirmed, or her personal evaluations proven drastically mistaken, when her hands happened upon a human leg. At first, she thought it might be the stroke of luck she needed. But the more she cleared the robotic detritus from the body, the more her heart sank. It was, of all things, a dusty old LoveBot. Nowadays, sex robots were almost indistinguishable from humans save for some government-mandated identifying features. This one was a much cruder model, likely discarded by a fickle lover for a newer toy. She was mostly human, save for the silvery skin of course, with matted golden hair all tangled up with old charging cords and an arm bent all kinds of wrong ways. The machines had an extensive personality simulation capability, from what Monica remembered, but there was no way Jericho would consent to have his first personality transference into a Brenda Bends model from before neoskin was perfected.

She returned from the junk closet, dragging the dog-sized OctoBot along the ground. It had to weigh over a hundred pounds, despite its small size. The scraping noise of metal on metal made her wince, and she had to rock it back and forth to find a place where the cacophony wasn’t ear-splitting. Six extendable legs trailed behind it, while two opposable grasping claws in the front occasionally caught on her shoe. Doctor Jericho, of course, didn’t help one iota. 

“Wait, is that the OctoBot again?” he asked, only when the grinding noise grew too loud to ignore.

“There’s nothing else acceptable,” she replied. With a huff, she manhandled the chunky bot into position on the other side of the NUD.

The Doctor raised a bushy eyebrow. “Where’d we put the Killbot?”

“You sent it to the Virology Conference, remember?” 

Blank stare.

Monica huffed, pulled out her smartphone, and loaded the front page of a Moldovan news site: glitchy video of a bipedal killing machine smashing through a lobby, blaring one of Jericho’s trademarked rants in haphazardly translated Romanian over the sound of handgun fire. Why it came out in a stereotypical vampire accent was anyone’s guess.

“Oh, right. I guess the OctoBot will have to do. I’ll have to get used to talking with mandibles but that’s fine.”

He hopped up into the NUD’s transference chair and began strapping the electrodes to his forehead himself. With a strangled gasp, he inserted the end of the neural plug, the main connection between his mind and the machine, into the back of his neck. He’d already had the port installed years ago to mentally control a swarm of drone hornets, and the conversion of inputs was easy enough. 

Monica knew better than to try to help the oaf, so she took her position at the console. One screen displayed the incoming neural data, another the flatline of data from the OctoBot.

“Is the child’s interface really necessary?” she asked. The buttons had all been blown up and colour coded, with big blocky text telling her the order in which they should be pressed.

“I prepared a soothing audio tutorial to accompany it, if you find it’s too confusing.”

She stared daggers at him. Jericho, for his part, looked like he was being serious. She shook her head, mumbling under her breath: “I should have taken the internship with Doctor Malpractice.”

The moment of truth had arrived. She double checked the connections, taking a careful glance at her boss’ electrode job to make sure he wouldn’t fry his temporal lobe because he was fussy about putting tape near his thinning hairline. With everything that could possibly be her fault accounted for (she didn’t want to kill her boss, no matter how much he tempted her) she keyed up the starting sequence. 

“Commencing personality transference.” 

“Hmm,” Jericho put his hand to his chin, “I don’t know if I like that. Could you try it again? But this time say ‘Beginning Personality Upload and Ushering In A New Stage In Human-’” His brain snapped into transference mode and disabled his motor function, making him sag into the chair. His hand slapped the side of the apparatus on its way down. Served him right for speechifying during brain experimentation, she thought to herself. 

The procedure began without a hitch. The two screens on either side of the console that displayed neural activity lit up, with a steady stream of brainwave patterns appearing in the OctoBot on the right screen while his human brain lost them on the left. Phase variance was in normal tolerances, neuron polarity within expected bounds. Everything was going according to the simulations.

And then the robot exploded.

Sparks erupted from its interior and the maintenance panel at the back belched blue flames. Smoke and the smell of ozone filled the lab. Panic set into Monica. She lifted the glass protective case around the HALT button and slapped the mechanical failsafe. 

“WARNING. SEGFAULT DETECTED,” announced the console, in Doctor Jericho’s own voice of course. “EMERGENCY STASIS INCOMPLETE. RESUMING UPLOAD PROCESS IN FIVE MINUTES.”

Monica’s eyes bugged out of her head. In five minutes, the emergency buffer would collapse and the console would start dumping Jericho’s brain again. The OctoBot was on fire. Where the fuck was she going to find a suitable replacement receptacle in the next five minutes?

“Oh,” she said. 

***

Blackness.

How long it lasted was impossible to tell. Oblivion has no rules. It could have been ten seconds. It could have been ten thousand years.

But all things must end. A pointpoint of light. It expanded into a full picture, though nothing like the entity’s conception of how vision was supposed to work. Numbers spilled down the sides of its vision, while the objects in immediate sight were blurry, indistinct. 

“Can you hear me, Doctor?” a voice asked it. The entity blinked.

“I hear...things. Doctor?” it asked the voice.

“Fuck. I was sure most of your memories and higher brain function would be recovered. Hang on, trying something.”

A sharp pain split open the entity’s skull-equivalent, and it remembered again. It was...he, he thought. Jericho. Gabriel Jericho. Memories blazed by in impossible clarity, like they’d just occurred moments before. It was an unsettling experience, but at least he had them again. Being no one was not a positive experience. 

“What happened?” he asked in a voice that was not quite his own. It was higher, it cracked, and it had a distinctive tinny sound that you’d hear from a cheap voice synthesizer. Jericho remembered the events that led to his stint in limbo. “The test...what happened?”

Monica stepped into view. She parsed her words carefully, visibly forming several false starts with her lips before settling on one. “There was a problem with the OctoBot. It could not handle the bandwidth that the experiment was set up to provide. It overheated its battery and destroyed itself during transference.”

“But if that’s true...where am I?” He tried to raise his hands, and a pair of slender grey ones appeared. His nails were painted red, and when he flipped them over, he saw not a single callus on their entire surface.

Rather than answer directly, Monica turned off her phone and held out the black screen to him. 

Plump lips. Golden, glowing eyes. Adorable nose. Rosy cheeks.

“Monica,” he said, rage boiling beneath a flimsy pretense of calm curiosity, “Why am I a sexbot?” 

“It was the only other alternative! Thankfully, her personality matrix was fairly complex, I was able to complete the transference with minimal loss! Your experiment worked, Doctor! You just...ended up in a different body.”

He tried to sit up. Whatever servos controlled the sexbot’s spine had become stiff and refused to respond right away, causing audible squealing. “This is unacceptable, Monica!”

Her relief turned to annoyance. “Well I’m sorry. It was either the sexbot or I let your brain fry in your deathtrap. We can transfer your mind back again, don’t worry.”

He examined the body he’d been stuck in. Or at least, he tried to. A pair of too-perky breasts blocked a part of his vision, topped by nipples that glowed an iridescent pink. The sexbot was ‘thicc’, as his grandparents used to say. Large thighs and ample curves provided much to grab onto. The only clothes he wore were some sunbleached rags that had probably once been a uniform of some kind. Shuttle attendant, schoolgirl, saucy nun, something like that. They were revealing in the best of times, but their wear and tear exposed the glowing pink of the sexbot’s pussy. 

“I see no reason to stay in this ridiculous form for one minute longer than necessary. Can you see what’s keeping my joints locked up? Perhaps I can help.”

Monica’s console displayed an emulation of the sexbot’s maintenance program. The original was Russian, but a translator program cleaned most of it up. “It says here...looks like it’s in something called...Oh, danger mode okay. In cases of medical emergency, this model is trained to freeze up all motor functions to avoid exacerbating a heart attack or whatever. Just have to convince it that nobody’s dying...and...viola!”

“It’s voil- Ah!” the golden light in his eyes flickered, then faded. Monica was about to panic when the sexbot’s eyes lit up again. This time in an aggressive fuchsia: the same colour as her genitals.

“Hiya cutie!” she said, biting her lip as she languidly stretched on the chair. “My name is Brenda. What should I call you?” 

Monica looked from left to right, only to realize that the machine that housed her boss’ brain was in fact talking to her. “Umm...Monica?”

Brenda slid her long legs to the floor. “Well then, Ummonica, how would you like to play? I have so many fun...fun…” The lights in her eyes flicked back to amber. 

“Fermi’s Ghost, what the fuck was that?!” It was Jericho again. He clutched his head like he was searching for some physical source of the takeover. 

Monica scanned the data coming in from the neural link. “It’s not coming from me...it looks like my resetting the system turned on the original personality program too. There’s two minds in there, though one is admittedly more shallow than the other.” She left unsaid which mind she thought was the most shallow.

“Well, shut it down!”

“I can’t! Not without turning your brain off.”

“Alright, I’m calling it. Experiment over. Put me back in my body.”

Monica nodded. She couldn’t imagine how disorientating, not to mention humiliating, the experience of sharing a brain with a poorly written sexpet would be. She keyed up the reversal program, only for the screen to flash twelve different shades of red.

“Uh oh.”

Jericho turned. “I don’t like the sound of ‘uh oh’s from my personality transference assistant.”

She turned her monitor around on its swivel stand, showing off the readings for him to interpret himself. “During the upload process, your brain got mingled in with the sexbot’s personality matrix. The data’s almost indistinguishable. I...I don’t know if I can pull you out. Not without more equipment.”

“But…” Jericho pressed his new face to the screen, looking for faults in her analysis. The numbers no longer made sense! He squinted, trying to invoke his years of experience in the mad sciences, but they lay scattered in among his memories. He knew the events that happened, but he could not put the skills he’d learned into use. “My brain...I can’t make heads or tails of this data!”

Monica tapped her chin. “Another possible symptom. Skill use requires memory recall. With your brain fragmented, you might have difficulties doing things that the bot itself could not do.”

A look of defeat dawned on the bot’s face. “So you’re saying...that my fate is entirely reliant on you? You, who were responsible for my safety in the first place and landed me in this situation, are my saviour. And to top it off, our funding’s been cut off! How are we going to gather the kinds of resources necessary to make advances in cybernetics?”

At that moment, Monica felt for the first time in her life a sensation that people like Jericho had been lording over the rest of the human race for years. His existence, his very life, was in her hands.

She understood why it was so alluring; playing god felt good.

“First, I think you’ll find that it is you who needs the money, not me. Honestly, I have enough data here to write my dissertation. I could claim your research as my own, not like you have friends at the Academy who would fight me on that, and leave you stuck in that body forever.”

“You...you wouldn’t!” he said, wavering tone betraying his actual uncertainty. Such subtle detail. Whoever had designed the bot’s vocal processors really did a bang-up job. 

“The hell I won’t. You’ve been a complete dickhead to me since Day One. I don’t really see why I should go out of my way to help you.”

“Please!” Jericho said, falling to his knees. “Science is all I am. I can’t be stuck in this body forever...please help me Monica. I’ll do anything!” However hot the robot was, she did have the power to look pathetic.

Monica let out a breath. “Ugh. Alright. I’d rather not have seven months of work go down the pipe. Data is one thing, proof of completion is another.”

Jericho hobbled over on the bot’s surprisingly sturdy knees and kissed her hand like a peasant paying fealty. “Thank you, thank you! I...unf~” 

“Did you just...moan?” Monica asked. Looking down at the penitent bot, she watched the eyes rapidly flick between the amber and the pink settings. 

When Jericho spoke, it was with Brenda’s lifting happy bimbo voice. “Something’s wrong with me. I can feel all these urges. Like...I want to do so many things…” The robot reached for the fly of Monica’s jeans. She stepped back and nearly tripped over the NUD’s thick power cable.

“What are you doing?!”

Jericho/Brenda crawled forward. “I’m trying to stop myself...I think about gratitude and it makes me want to please you. Please, help me stop. Figure out what’s going on before I…” 

Monica didn’t retreat from the approaching sexbot. Instead, she thought of all those months of bullying. Endless days and nights of condescension and every mistake blown out of proportion. She pushed the monitor of the sexbot’s input around to face her, then scrolled through the info til she found what she wanted: personality programs currently in operation.

“Oh dear. Obedience, genital worship, shamelessness. It looks like Brenda’s slutty persona is bleeding into yours. She’s programmed to obey and please, so when you are in submissive situations, she must be taking control. This must be the first time in years that you’ve been placed in a disadvantageous position.”

Brenda/Jericho shook. The fight in it was clear, but one side was definitely winning. “I...want to please…but you’re just...my assistant,” it said. 

Monica scowled, pulled up one of the programs running in the bot’s head, and cranked it up to 200%. It only got a brief second to see the name of the program before it kicked in.

CUM_ADDICT

The flickering in its eyes stopped. The colour was a pastel pink, halfway between the gold and fuchsia of either identity. The moment it happened, its hands flung to Monica’s pants. She didn’t fight it this time, and soon her hardening cock was exposed to the air.

“What do I call you?” Monica asked, “Are you Jericho or Brenda?” 

It shook its head. “I’m both for now. Call me Jeri, and please, let me suck you off~”

Monica was already stiff, but seeing her domineering boss at her knees poked at a dominant button in her brain she’d never really explored on her own. She ran her fingers through Jeri’s synthetic hair while the android licked its lips in anticipation.

“You look so yummy~” 

“Which part of you is saying that?” Monica asked. Jeri just smiled in response and laid a long, languid lick up the underside of her cock. Monica lost her train of thought. She gripped its head and held on for dear life. 

The bot’s mouth was so warm and inviting that when it finally sucked in Monica’s cock, she felt like she was entering a hot bath. Water-based lubricant easily simulated saliva while allowing a frictionless glide inside. There were all kinds of novel surprises inside. Because Jeri’s mouth had nothing to do with breathing or eating or even speaking, it was designed just like a sextoy might. Ridges and bumps dragged along Monica’s flesh every insertion. Her knees felt weak when her whole length made it inside for the first time, with those large lips locking around the base.

“Oh fuck.”

Jeri looked up at her. “You like this, Monica?” it asked, its words clear despite the obstruction in its mouth.

Her head jerked up and down. “Fuck yes...you’re incredible…”

“Does that means I’ll get your cum? I want your cum so bad, Monica. I want you to fill my mouth with spunk.”

Monica wasn’t in a place to deny it what it wanted. She already felt the slight pressure of precum bead, then disappear into the swirl of clear lube. There was no stopping herself from rocking her hips back and forth to fuck the bot’s mouth. It responded accordingly, meeting its own motions to make her cock’s journey deep into Jeri’s face a team effort. 

“Imagine what the others would say if they knew Gabriel Jericho was...ung...sucking off his assistant. Fuck, you’re a much better cocksucker than a scientist, you know that?”

It giggled, continuing to please its new master and obey its confused array of instructions. The old Jericho would have never displayed a desire to suck dick. But those predilections and reluctances were mashed head on into simple slut behaviour engrained deep in the host body. If he really, really didn’t want to do this, the part that was him could have resisted. But he needed Monica’s help. And, perhaps, some part deep inside him was enjoying this.

Just a little bit.

Monica felt the looming threat of an orgasm ending her fun. As her climax approached, she slowed down to savour the experience for a little while longer. This was not to Jeri’s liking. Monica’s cock, after all, was the source of a necessity it needed to function. Simulated cravings only intensified when its internal sensors detected fluid leaking from the cock’s tip. Whatever resistance she might put up to hold back, Jeri’s programming was stronger.

“Please, cum. You know you want to,” it taunted, all while corkscrewing its head back and forth. Jeri’s tongue wrapped and lapped around her cock with inhuman dexterity, weakening her remaining resolve and sending jolts of pleasure when it dragged along her sensitive head.

“Fuck...oh god I’m nearly there...I, fuck!” Monica seized up, her whole body clenching in waves. Hot spunk sprayed into Jeri’s eager mouth. The synthetic detection of semen in its mouth fulfilled those preprogrammed desires and sent computerized pleasure-responses into Jeri’s mind. The bot didn’t stop, however. It polished her dick and extracted as much jizz as it could. Each shot was lapped up, swallowed, and disappeared into her inner workings. 

With a sucking pop, Monica pulled back from the sexbot’s pillowy lips. Her organ was dripping with a mixture of fluids. She rubbed her softening cock along Jeri’s face, using its feminine features to clean off her dick before putting it back in her jeans. 

“Ah...I think you’ll do, Jeri.”

***

Monica kept up her side of the bargain. Selling some of the less dangerous devices lying around Jericho’s lab, she managed to not only buy a cryobed to keep his biological body safe, but also a detailed negatronic brain scanning apparatus, diagnostic software for the Brenda model of sexbot, and enough ICEpicks to make headway bypassing the corporate DRM on its mind. Enough to tackle the Herculean task in front of her…or so she thought.

Days passed, then turned into weeks. The Jericho and Brenda sides of Jeri switched liberally, with neither not quite taking precedence over the other. When Monica worked on a solution to the identity problem, the submissive side of the intelligent sexbot took hold and pleased the scientist in every way it could. It cooked, it cleaned, and it rewarded Monica’s diligence with sexual favours. Sucking her off underneath her desk, riding her while she read papers, no pleasure she craved was denied.

Jericho only came out when progress slowed. The bright pink eyes faded out, her guileless grin replaced by frowns and derisive glares. His frustrations at not being able to contribute to his own rescue ate at him and built up into angry outbursts. Sometimes it took tampering with the sexbot priorities to shut him up, and Monica had to admit that turning a monologuing tyrant into a babbling cockslut had its appeal. 

Despite her efforts and her considerable skill, the lack of funding became an insurmountable obstacle to progress. Scrounging spare parts from the scrap closet could only go so far. What they needed was a bleeding edge intermediary brain. If she could set up a filter to sift through the brain patterns and remove the biological from the artificial, she could have a 100% complete copy of Jericho’s brain free from all, or most, of the Brenda Bends program. But there was no more liquid assets, and no one out there responded to her ad selling a giant squid-shaped helicopter.

She had an idea. A way to get some quick cash. And she thought there’d be a way for Jeri to help...

***

The Bucky Ball was not an event advertised to the general public. There was no official guest list, but you didn’t get in without knowing the right people. In the same way that Hollywood, the Television Industry, and the Stellarium had their gala night to celebrate excellence in their respective fields, the Bucky Ball was that for the field of Mad Science. Of course, due to the sensitivity and moral ambiguity of many of the attendants, this annual bacchanal of equal parts gladhanding and backstabbing was held in a secluded location far away from prying eyes. 

Monica and Jeri stood side by side on the large cargo elevator as it ascended up the thirty stories to the main dome of the Boseman Arcology. Out the fogged mirrors on the side, they could see the rest of the decaying complex. Mid-century utopian dreaming by a bunch of billionaire recluses, the Arcs were the last stand of an oligarchic attempt to hide from the social implications of the changing climate.

It didn’t work.

The decades old electromagnetic lift system whined under the minor strain of a dozen guests, all wearing the finest styles you could see in countries without extradition treaties. Monica herself wore a sharp navy blue suit with a charming bowtie. Jeri, by contrast, was resplendent in a scarlet ballroom gown. Her eyes glint soft pink, as they had for weeks. The personality module that was Brenda Bends had merged itself into Jericho so completely that Monica worried she won’t be able to separate them even with the best equipment. 

All of this was a moot point without funds, however. And Monica had a plan for that.

The synthwood door lifted onto a ballroom done in a retrofuturist fever dream of neon glitz, evoking the charming simplicity of what people in the 2050s thought the future would look like. Appropriate, given the location. Small clusters of people clustered in and around tables, engaging in vigorous conversations/debates/shouting matches about the soulless minions of orthodoxy. 

A flickering anime girl with green hair and a winning smile greeted them with a flashed peace sign. “Welcome to the Boseman Arcology! Please enjoy the 33rd Annual Bucky Ball! And remember: no weapons outside of designated areas! Let’s keep disintegrations to a zero this year!”

Monica pulled Jeri through the hologirl and across the room. The arcology’s signage had been reprogrammed to direct guests around, and they followed a set of red arrows to a set of luxury apartments that were designated as Demonstration Rooms. 

“So we’re going to be meeting a bunch of investors?” Jeri asked.

“Essentially. Many people with great gobs of illicit cash frequent this event. I’ll be asking for some...contributions.” 

They reached a door labelled ‘Demonstration of Simulated Artificial Companionship by Doctor Monica Power’. Monica entered while Jeri hung around the door to examine the interior. It was a small conference hall, maybe thirty seats in total, with a large computer interface at the front next to a chair. Side screens displayed a slideshow of diagrams Jeri recognised as scans of its brain.

“What will we be showing them?” the bot asked, touching one of the screens. 

Monica went to work setting up with the interface. “The personality transference tech isn’t something we can demonstrate safely at the moment. There is a call, however, for companionship programs. I’m hoping we can present you as if you’re a perfect simulation of a partner. If there’s one place that that idea will have appeal, it’s a building full of asocial weirdos. So, for now, just act like your normal self but remember: everyone here sees you as just an advanced sexbot, and will treat you as such.”

Jeri gulped, not knowing how to take that. Before she could ask more questions, people began filing into the small conference room. Monica motioned for Jeri to sit and connect herself to the interface, which she did with a touch of hesitation.

“What will I need to do to prove my intelligence?”

“You’ll see,” Monica said with a grin, then turned her attention to the guests filing in through the door. “Welcome! Please, take seats anywhere. We should begin in only a few moments.”

They waited for the room to fill more before beginning. A crowd of the world’s brightest, if not necessarily its best. The info she’d posted for her demonstration had specified that it was strictly 18+, and that view discretion was advised. Given that the item on display was a common model of sexbot, most got the message. The seating reached 3/4th’s capacity before they got started.

“Thank you for attending my presentation on Companion AI. I know there are many other symposiums occuring here, so I’m grateful that you’re giving me your attention. My breakthrough involves the development of a brand new artificial simulation to do with artificial companionship bots. As you can see, I have with me a standard, outmoded Brenda Bends model LoveBot. In the physical aspects, it is strictly off the shelf. Its personality matrix, however, has been completely replaced with an emulation of a mind so perfect you’ll believe there actually IS a person in here!” She tapped Jeri on the head, who looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“And how are you going to demonstrate this?” asked a voice from the back.

“Good question. I believe the best way would to be to show just how Jeri here, my name for this intelligence, reacts when confronted by stimuli. Now, Jeri, could you spread your legs for me?”

The bot’s face darkened. “I...but Monica, there are people looking at me…”

The scientist nodded, then turned back to the audience. “As you can see, modesty is just one of the parameters that can be simulated with this program. I can turn it up and down at will and the program will adjust, in real time, to the new rules and restrictions. Or countermanded with an overriding need should one arise. For example, watch what happens when I turn Jeri’s Exhibitionist Desire up.”

Monica slid her finger along the control panel, moving the setting from 0 to 30. Jeri began to simulate sweating, its thighs rubbing up against each other. It whimpered softly.

“At this setting, its modesty and arousal protocols are conflicting with one another. With some coaxing, it can be made to go one way or another. But if you’d much rather an eager companion…” Monica cranked the setting up to 70. Jeri’s eyes widened, its breath caught, and its thighs opened wide. The entire room was able to see Jeri’s gorgeous, glowing pink pussy. Fluid formed and wept onto the chair’s seat, and Monica pet the dripping bot’s head.

“I fail to see how this is any different from the traditional sexbot experience,” one of the mads in the front row said. He had his arms folded and, judging by his attitude, was very familiar with the current state of artificial sexual companions. 

Monica took the question in stride. “Of course, there are many of bots out there who can simulate behaviours and emotions, but they’re often restricted to certain modes. With this new behaviour package, you can enter in different, sometimes conflicting emotions and feelings and see what happens. For instance, I can increase its embarrassment while increasing its libido, like so.”

Jeri whined. Its sexbot brain was a plaything for a vengeful lab assistant, and it was helpless to do anything but comply. Hiding its face, Jeri turned around and presented its ass and pussy to the interested audience. A deep, burning need to be filled was all it could think about. Stuffing its fingers in its drooling pussy, Jeri fingered its needy hole and babbled out anything that came to its simplified mind.

“Please fuck me oh god I’m such a dirty girl fuck my holes made me scream ungh I need cooock~” it moaned. Monica beamed at how shameless she could make it. But she was just getting started.

“Now, who would like to come up and take Jeri for a test drive? I guarantee Jeri will be far more responsive than any synthetic companion you’ve ever experienced.”

Murmurs in the small crowd. Some of them left, not liking where this display was going. Most, however, looked intrigued by the prospect. The unconvinced scientist from before was the first to raise a hand. He stood and joined them at the front of the room, where Jeri was still displaying itself like an animal in heat.

Monica held out her hand. “Please, feel free to touch. I know it wants it.”

The mad stuck a pudgy finger into the bot’s wet slit. It clenched around the intrusion, orgasming from the slightest contact and sucking in his digit like it was a dick all on its own.

“Oh gooood~” Jeri moaned, but there would be no limit to the pleasure it could experience. Mere moments after its mind had been blown, it was already grinding against his questing fingers. He obliged, sticking two more inside it and letting Jeri use them like a dildo, grinding itself pathetically against them. He snorted.

“It’s certainly desperate to get off, though I’ve seen more convincing emulations of whorish behaviour. Suki 2.3 by DereCo already has a Nympho Mode that is functionally similar.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “Of course it can PRETEND to be a slut. Any machine can do that. But with my advanced simulated desire programming, Jeri here IS a slut. Why don’t you try using it yourself. I’m sure the others won’t mind.”

“Yes,” Jeri said with a shake of its hips, “Please fuck me. Fuck me fuck me fuck me!”

The cynical scientist pondered for a moment. Not exactly a dignified position to be placed in. Then, with a shrug, he dropped his pants. “My work speaks for itself. Decorum is for normals.”

Surprising almost everyone in the room, the rotund scientist was packing a warhammer in his pants. Unleashed from his boxers, it hung a good nine inches from his base. Jeri couldn’t have been more excited. 

“Oh god, big cock! Shove it in me!” it squealed. The scientist snorted and, after some stroking, did just that. His head slid into its glowing pussy and forced a drawn out gasp from Jeri’s plump lips.

This had descended into hard fucking a lot faster than she had expected, but Monica was happy to let it continue. She booted up her bank transfer program and held out her hands like a showroom model. “If anyone else would like to test out the responses of my exciting new breakthrough in behavioural modelling, it’ll be only 500 CredCoin per use. 100 less if you’d like to use its hands or rub up on its body. Please, take advantage. Use Jeri as you would like.”

The chubby scientist stuffing his monster cock inside Jeri relieved some of the building pressure that its altered programming had caused, but there was so much lust left to expend. Slowly, members of the audience joined it, causing the bot to shift positions. Jeri soon had a cock in its mouth, one in its pussy, and another ready to slide into its ass. Two more men had their cocks out, stroking and waiting, while a woman was content to suck and squeeze Jeri’s tits to see its reaction. 

Person after person filed up to the front, each transferring the requisite Coin to Monica. Some were quickshots and finished with only a little activity, while others, like the hung scientist, were still going a dozen minutes later. Each made sure to deposit thick loads of cum where they could. The first to take its ass finished and left the hole oozing cum. Another quickly replaced him, using that spilled seed as lube for his own anal expedition.

Who would have guessed a conference for mad scientists would be full of such pent up sexuality? Monica, for one, but the willingness to do these acts in public was surprising even her. And...it was hot. The scientists around her were talking shop even as they pumped thick cum into Jeri’s clenching holes. The sexbot’s mouth was like a vacuum, draining one scientist after another to sate its unquenchable thirst for jizz. The females among the crowd loved Jeri’s mouth the most. Though there was no seed to be had, the obedient toy pleasured more than one pussy that night. The participants even kissed and groped each other, caught in the lusty atmosphere of sweat and hormonal bliss.

The guy pummelling its pussy was reaching his limit. He gripped its hips tight and thrust himself forward. He inseminated its flesh-like fuckhole. Jeri whimpered, legs shaking from the carnival of carnality perpetrated on its artificial nerve endings.

“I must admit,” he said, slapping Jeri’s ass so hard it squirted a mix of cum and lube, “This bot performs well. The shivering, the whimpers, it really feels like a real whore around my dick. If you’d be interested, I’d love to talk about franchising it.”

Monica’s devilish grin widened. “That would certainly be an interesting proposal. A whole line of Jeri models? Please, contact me sometime after tonight. I think we will have plenty to talk about.”

The actual Award Ceremony at the Bucky Ball came and went. Customers filed out after losing their interest (or loads), only to be replaced by other interested parties eager to see what all the commotion was about. Several interested scientists had award statues in their hands which they had to put down to stuff Jeri full of the dick it desperately craved. Sloppy puddles of formed around the gangbanged bot, but nobody seemed to mind. Least of all Jeri.

With every sloppy creampie, with every handjob bringing a cock to completion, Monica was only getting harder and harder. Seeing Jeri’s shuddering body drool spunk and lube down its thighs made it only a matter of time before she took out her own cock and stroked it. Her watch buzzed every thousand Coins she got transferred to her personal bank account, but the funding was far from her mind. All she saw was the debauched robot slut she’d turned Jeri into, and how hot it was to have that kind of power. 

She lightly pushed the guy using Jeri’s mouth to the side, handing him a hand to use instead while mumbling something about an oral diagnostic. He reluctantly complied, though his concerns dissolved the moment Jeri’s skilled hand got to work on his slickened shaft.

“You’re a good little whore, Jeri,” Monica said, petting her mess of a face, “We’ll surely have enough to finish our work.”

Jeri shakily nodded. “I...umm...good...fuck, I...so much cock I can’t stand it...cum and cock...love cum...love cock…”

The poor bot’s brain was fried for now. So much input it couldn’t handle it. Monica stroked herself to the sheer depravity of it all.

“I know you’re in there, Jericho. I want you to remember this. Remember that I, Doctor Monica Power, turned you into this. And I can do it again if you ever get in my way.” She finished stating her absolute power by shooting a trio of thick, creamy ropes into Jeri’s face. It accepted the facial, opening its pouting lips to allow some of that wonderful cum to drool down onto its tongue. 

At some point, this gangbang would end. Monica would take the money, get Jericho’s brain out of Brenda’s body, and put him back in his body. But for now, the line to fuck it was not getting any shorter. A dozen men and two women, all in states of intrigued arousal, ready to use the sexbot for its intended purpose. 

And Jeri was only too eager to please every single one.