Automata Smut

Another day, another skirmish. It’s beginning to feel almost mundane, the slow lumbering robots not even coming close to landing a blow on me. A quick sidestep and a crushing overhead blow while the robot is out of position are all it takes; rinse and repeat. 9S shuts down the only one that might be a threat, or a challenge. He always smiles when he does it too. I’d have welcomed a real fight to make sure my skills don’t dull, but I suppose I can’t fault him. He is just looking out for me, after all. I wipe the sweat from my brow before surveying the area, it looks clear for now. We’ve earned a rest.
“Wow 2B, you were amazing!”
He’s so easily impressed; it’s kind of…cute.
“I followed standard combat procedure, 9S; prioritize self-preservation and minimal energy expenditure.”
“Well, normally there are a lot more robots, so I don’t get a good chance to watch you fight, but watching you tumble around like that made you look like a dancer!”
He’s grinning ear to ear. Of course he is. He can’t help but gush about me at every opportunity, even though I’m only performing within standard battle unit parameters.
“You should be focused on the fight, not on me, 9S.”
I hate to have to scold him, but he’s just too excitable; loses focus too easily. I’d hate for him to get hurt, and even more so if I was the reason why. I know he could easily be replaced, but it just wouldn’t be the same fighting alongside another scanner unit.
“Right, sorry 2B.”
He nods quickly before his gaze drops to the floor. From anyone else that’d be the end of it, but I know him well enough to see when his feelings are hurt. Why does a scanner unit even need feelings anyway? I can’t help but sigh as I lift his gaze back up to meet mine.
“Hey, you’re not normally like this. Did you catch a virus or something?”
He can’t even look me in the eye to answer a question, and his face is going through an overheat protocol. Something’s definitely gotten to him.
“W-well, my programming was made to be a little more…authentic to what a human would be like, and when you’re out there fighting it just makes me feel all weird!”
The glare creeping across my face isn’t even intentional, and it seems to be making him even more of a mess. Let him go, turn around, reset face to default, direct questioning: just follow standard procedure and get to the bottom of this.
“Weird how? Does it affect your programming, impair your hacking skill? Vague answers like that aren’t helping, 9S. I need you at your best. Tell me exactly what’s wrong.”
His face was showing more signs of panicked submission. Mine’s back to a scowl. Damn it, we don’t have time for this.
“My hacking protocols engaged like normal when the fighting started, but then when I saw you out of the corner of my eye, my pleasure protocols started booting up, and I was trying to run both at the same time, a-and-!”
I cover his hand with my mouth, partly since he’s getting loud enough to draw more robots, and partly because I can’t stand to hear another word about pleasure protocols. At least that narrows down the problem, but I still hate it.
“I’ll help you run your pleasure protocol, but only if you keep quiet, got it?”
His nod is enough of a signal. He takes a gasp for breath as I move my hand from his mouth to his shoulder, pushing him up against the nearest surface to keep him steady. My other hand, however loathe I am to do it, finds its way to his shorts, groping them to assess how much of his processing power had already been taken up by that stupid piece of old code.
“Fully engorged without direct stimulation? Your pleasure protocols are running way too fast, no wonder you had trouble focusing on the fight.”
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for 9S as I pulled his shorts down to his knees. The gasp he gives while his cock springs up tells me all I need to know about how hard a time he must have had focusing on the fight. Even with this, he still managed to hack that elite. Is he just that good, or does he care that much…?
“I know your processor must be swimming with unbefitting thoughts right now, but don’t get too ahead of yourself 9S. Just a quick handjob to satisfy the bare minimum and get you back in fighting shape, got it?”
“Yes ma’am!~”
His voice is dripping with lust, and he even called me ma’am despite how much he knows I hate it. Range modulation is out of whack too. I need to work fast. Hand around the shaft, pump back and forth, read moans for direction.
 “Try to keep quiet, alright? We’re completely defenseless right now.”
I know it’s useless to tell him to stay quiet on his own with how deep he is in lust. I wish we could be doing this somewhere more appropriate too. His fingers look like they’re about ready to snap with how hard they’re digging into the metal wall, and his breathing modulation’s gone completely offline. Shudders, moans, sharp gasps; he’s a wreck. More importantly, he’s a loud wreck.
“You really can’t help yourself, huh? Looks like I’ll need to take desperate action.”
I pull back the opening of my dress, unceremoniously shoving my breast into his mouth to muffle him. Maybe if we’re lucky it’ll provide him some anchor to regain focus.
“Try to suck on it, rhythmically. It should help you regain control.”
He tries to give a muffled response, what I can only imagine being a “Yes ma’am’ or ‘Thank you 2B” at this point. I supress a chuckle, if only to keep him from feeling any more embarrassed by all this. If I have to do this for anyone, I suppose 9S is the best one it could be for.
This is taking too long. I’d figured with how little stimulus it had taken him to become fully aroused, it would take a similarly low amount to finish up the subroutine, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. The balls are a stimulus zone of nearly as much importance as the cock, and I don’t think he needs to be steadied now that he’s focused on my breast, so I can release his shoulder and cup them. Feeling them roil and churn is almost…flattering, given that it was all because of me. It seems to be improving the process, as his cock is now starting to leak precum.
Now that I’ve gotten his noises under control, mostly being brought down to a quiet suckling punctuated by the occasional soft moan, this isn’t as bad as I was expecting. Not something I’d prefer to do, but the resentment is blunted significantly. At least I know 9S will appreciate it.
“I’m sorry about the sweat, 9S. This is taking more vigour and time than I expected, but I can’t have you moaning like you were before, so I need to keep your mouth full until this is over, ok?”
I didn’t detect any changes in his behaviour when I started to sweat, so he doesn’t seem to notice it. In fact, analyzing behavioural changes, his pleasure response seems to have increased since then. Does he like it? Surely not. I’m not even sure why I brought it up. The prolonged silence was just getting to me, I suppose.
Five minutes. According to my internal clock, this process has only been going on for five minutes, but it’s somehow felt longer than even the most drawn out skirmishes we’ve ever had. It must be the lack of danger making my sensors hunt for things to pick up. His hips starting to buck against my hand as his pleasure rises, his breaths getting deeper and slower, his lips widening to accommodate more of me within his mouth, the wet warmth of his tongue swirling around my nipple; these are the things my scanners had to focus on.
Maybe the pleasure protocol has some good bits of code in it after all. It certainly seemed to increase his daring, since he’s gained the confidence to take my ass in his hands. I can’t blame him for it, really. He’s constantly behind me in battle, and now that I know he’s fighting this subroutine while I’m fighting robots, I think any other model would have been unable to help themselves to it long ago. I wonder, is it restraint, respect, or meek subservience that’s brought him to keep this from me for so long? A combination of the three, perhaps? He’ll likely try to fight it back even after this, just since he knows how much I hate the pleasure protocols. Given the nature of our combat partnership, I suppose it would be easiest to frame it as a command. Commanding 9S to cum for me; it sounds so odd and wrong, yet it’s the most optimal strategy I can think of. I’m sure I’ll adjust my programming to it, just as he will.
He’s finally cumming. I’m conflicted: I’m glad we can get back to work, but I was actually kind of enjoying it. It’s quite an impressive load for his size. He must really have been pent up. Poor thing.
“That’s it 9S. I’ll get every last drop out of you. Just relax and let me make you cum, ok?”
I can feel his whole body quivering; he even wrapped his legs around mine. The bucking of his hips has gone erratic, the last vestiges of his lust working desperately to be sated while I milk him. I was worried at first by the firmness I was squeezing his balls with, but feeling them clench and tighten was too intriguing to pass up. My pleasure protocols have mercifully been disabled, and yet I can’t help but notice I’ve come to enjoy this interaction. I’ll have to compute just what part of it appeals to me later. The sense of control as he submits himself to me? I feel plenty of control when I fight, but this is different. I have to wrest it from the machines I destroy, but seeing 9S give it to me with the most gentle of coaxing made me feel a different sort of pride. Maybe it’s the level of trust he’s displaying to let me do this for him. We’ve certainly developed a lot of trust, but it’s a trust of warriors, forged in combat. He trusts me to keep him safe from harm, and I trust him to handle circumstances past my foresight. This is different; he’s only ever seen me exerting strength to kill. I could destroy him right here and now, easily. But he trusts me to treat him with the tenderness of a lover, and I was more than happy to oblige. It couldn’t simply be that I wanted to do this to 9S myself, could it? No, that’s absurd; I’m a battle model, not a pleasure model. I’ll compute this later, he’s finished. Time to move on.