Drone Pone 11: Escalating Warmth (SFW)

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon in your house on the outskirts of Ponyville. The blazing and humid heat of summer has finally passed, and the temperate transition to fall weather has begun; your windows are propped open to let the gentle, cool breeze flow through and air out the house. The place was beginning to smell a little like a mechanic's shop after the last few weeks of getting a good look at PQ-1's interior and making some “standard maintenance” tweaks to her subsystems.

You sit alone in the living room, browsing through a drone parts magazine that had been left in your mailbox – no addresses had been on the thick packaging paper the magazine had come in, but you assumed it was from one of the pony scientists you'd met in the restaurant some time ago. Perhaps this was their way of saying they're keeping a close eye and ear on you and PQ-1?

Regardless of it's origin, the magazine contains a wealth of knowledge – and advertisements – regarding standard model parts, first step upgrades, and “exotic” parts; many advertise a change in basic performance or function, but a healthy portion are purely cosmetic. The magazine contains information on everything from pony-like wings, horns, and tails, to better sensors, software upgrades, and entire frame rebuilds. The possibilities seem endless, so long as you have the money and know-how.

You're engrossed in the magic-infused technology behind the frames that feature more “realistic skin-like properties” when the front door swings forcefully inward, making you drop your magazine as you fumble about in surprise. But before the door can slam into the wall, a silver, metallic looking hoof grabs the edge of the door and halts its movement. The hoof belongs to  PQ-1, who blushes – great whirring sounds coming from her frame as a multitude of red lights flicker behind her smokey visor – and quickly enters the house before shutting the door gently behind her. Turning about, she bows her head in apology before suddenly snapping to a position of attention – head held high and a hoof against her chest.

“Commander! I-I have returned from the task you assigned me! I am prepared to give a full report, if you-”

“Woah, hey,” you interrupt the stiff drone, “No need to be so formal about telling me how your brunch with Pinkie went. Have a seat; I was just reading up on...uh, possible upgrades? More browsing the magazine and enjoying the weather, but....”

PQ-1 slowly relaxes, though you can't tell if she's looking at you or the magazine that lies half open on the floor at your feet.

“I...would normally insist on a more formal report being given, but, as you wish, Commander.”

PQ-1 calmly walks to your side before hopping up onto the couch and folding her hooves under her as she lies down. Her pony mannerisms have become second-nature to her; at this point she could pass for a standard denizen of Ponyville in every way but appearance. But even so, the ponies of Ponyville have taken a liking to her – for the most part. Heck, even without looking exactly like a standard pony she's plenty cute, and-

“....Commander; do I have something on my visor?”

“A-ah! No! Just, uh, thinking on how much you've changed since....well.”

“Since I was first activated?” She smiles broadly, “Isn't it exciting? I would have never thought I could...feel this way, or act beyond my parameters so easily! The very notion I can feel true excitement is...marvelous, Commander.”

Smiling back at her, you indulge your sudden urge to pet her between her ears. PQ-1 gasps slightly as your hand touches the top of her head, but hums happily as you rub just above her visor; her warmth and softness to the touch still surprising you even after doing this so many times.

“Perhaps one day I will be able to adequately repay you for this gift,” PQ-1 murmurs happily.

“Hey, I just put the chip where a little information booklet told me,” you reply, still smiling, “We'll have to send our thanks to the one who created the chip. Though I doubt I can match your enthusiasm about it. Unless you're talking about the petting, in which case I don't really think that's something worth repaying, exactly.”

PQ-1 giggles, raising her head as you move your hand down the side of her face to her chin and letting you gently rub and scritch her chin and neck.

“You spoil me, Commander,” she says softly, still basking in your attention as some of the red lights behind her visor disappear, “Regulations would have me taken from your command for acts such as this.”

“Good thing there's nopony to report it to,” you retort, before patting PQ-1 on the head and picking up the nearly forgotten magazine.

“Agreed,” PQ-1 says with a happy sigh as she lowers her head onto your thigh, “I feel much better now. Thank you.”

“I was going to ask; what had you so flustered you nearly caved the door in?”
PQ-1 sighs, less happily this time, and a rosy tint colors her cheeks once more.

“Well, you recall you scheduled a meeting and meal with Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Mrs. Cake for me to attend this morning, correct?”

“Yes; I thought you would be out longer as those three together can be quite...talkative,” you reply, opening the magazine to where you'd left off.

“Oh, and they are! It was nice for the most part.”

“For the most part?”

PQ-1 fidgets, her humming tone shifting from a gentle buzz to a higher, somewhat annoying tone.

“Well, you see, we broached a...strange topic, for me.” As her tone shifts further upward, PQ-1 begins to speak faster, words rattling off in an ever faster stream as she hurries to explain, “Rarity asked if I'd developed an interest in any stallions due to the emotional chip that has fundamentally shifted how this unit functions, to which I replied I had a cursory interest in getting to know all ponies a bit better in order to more adequately inform my Commander of any developing situations or necessities in town. Persisting, she asked if I found any “cute”. Mrs. Cake and Pinkie seemed eager to know this as well – though out of curiosity for it being a possibility within the scope of this unit's range of emotions or rather as to have something to talk about I am unable to discern even now – and my response, though honest, did not seem satisfactory and-”

PQ-1 stops, snout scrunching up as you place your hand on her head reassuringly.

“Commander, please, it's very hard to focus on what I'm saying when you do that. Not that I mind but I think it's important for me to broach this subject with you.”

“What subject, PQ?” you ask with a grin, “You're getting more flustered recounting the story. Maybe just, skip to the part that made you leave early?”

“Ah, see, this is why you are the Commander. Also discerning I left early based on time of day; I would expect no less.” PQ-1 clears her throat as you remove your hand from her head, “So..uh...Commander...sir.”

“Yes, PQ?”

“What does 'making love' mean, exactly?”

It takes a moment for her question to sink in, and when it does you gently set the open magazine down on the short table in front of the couch.

“Okay, wait, I think I do need the context on this one,” you reply; a mix of anxious anticipation and overall nervousness gripping you for a reason you can't quite get a hold of. Isn't it natural this question would come up eventually? I mean, she said she loved you once before when you were sick. The question of her understanding what that meant never came up – perhaps that was a mistake in hindsight. Regardless, you brace yourself for PQ-1's explanation.

“Well, as I was saying; Pinkie, Rarity, and Mrs. Cake were asking me if I found any stallions in town cute. I relayed that I am your subordinate, so I should get to know all the ponies of Ponyville to adequately serve whatever missions you give me. 'Subordinate' seemed the wrong thing to say, as Rarity began to ask if you bossed me around, or something of equal offense, and I was required to correct the situation.”

“You didn't say anything rude, did you, PQ?”

“N-no! Of course not! I reminded her that you are a very kind, caring, and overall excellent leader and person. Who I love dearly. When I said that – specifically that I love you – they suddenly became very excited. Especially Pinkie Pie, who began to speak so fast I had a difficult time keeping track of her questions. Eventually I lost track, and was barraged with questions of what love feels like to me, did I mean to say love, and – ultimately – the group asked if I've ever 'made love' with you. I did not understand the question, exactly. How does one 'make' love? Is it not an emotion that you feel, and would be created – if that word can be used adequately here – simply by interactions with someone you cherish? I would have answered 'yes', but something told me they meant something other than what I understand of love. So, I...may have claimed I needed to refuel and departed Sugarcube Corner early, in order to avoid causing confusion and perhaps tarnishing your name.”

PQ-1 raises her head, placing her forehooves on  your thigh, and looks up at you as she swallows nervously – her humming having grown to a fevered pitch that vibrates dully throughout your body as well as hers.

“So, Commander; what is 'love' within this context? And, what do they mean when they say 'making love'?”

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In the end – to avoid being crass, or perhaps spare your pounding heart a potentially awkward explanation – you sent PQ-1 to Miss Cheerilee for that explanation. Not that you couldn't have done it, but, for some reason you still can't quite explain, you felt at the time you would've overlooked something or somehow botched the conversation. So, you arranged for Ponyvilles' premiere teacher to give PQ-1 a crash course on standard pony physical education the following day.

Luckily, PQ-1 understood to wait, and awkward silences were kept to a minimum. She even still slept atop you – warming you through the night in that caring way she always has since the day you fell ill – without being asked and without hesitation.

So, when PQ-1 returned from her impromptu lesson, and sat across the dining room table from you the following evening, you greeted her with a smile and only a half-awkward “So...how did it go? Do you have any more questions that Cheerilee couldn't address, or....?”

“I...now understand what the other ponies meant, yes,” PQ-1 says softly, her tone quiet and...almost sad?

“PQ, what's wrong?”

PQ-1 traces a circle on the table with a hoof, sighing gently.

“I...find myself somewhat...disappointed.”

“Disappointed? How so?”

“Ah; I'm sorry. I don't mean to not sound excited. A physical way to convey the emotion within the hearts of two who love each other is a wonderful, marvelous thing. I am disappointed because...well, to put it bluntly; I am not equipped with standard reproductive organs that would facilitate making love – either with another pony or-”

PQ-1 suddenly stops, a curt grating sound echoing slightly in the room before she returns to tracing circles on the table.

“Regardless; I fear it is an experience I will never know. But,” PQ-1 looks up at you, smiling, “At the very least, I know what it is to feel love – both receiving, and having it originate within me. And I have you to thank for that, Commander. Whether you say it's because of a device or chip or something created by another, you are the one who has treated me with love and kindness and helped me foster that feeling inside as a result. For this, I will forever be grateful.”

“PQ...come here.”

“C-Commander?”

You rise from the table and close the distance between the two of you before PQ-1 can stammer out anything further, and sweep your arms beneath her hooves and pull her to you in a close hug. Lights within her visor flash crazily, and the sounds of her systems spinning up rapidly fills the house with a gentle din. Her warm body feels nice against you, and her surprisingly giving frame squishes gently beneath your arms.

“Commander this is highly inappropriate given our stations-”

“PQ, stop that. You'll ruin the moment.”

PQ-1 scrunches her nose, but remains silent save for her whirring. Slowly, she shifts her hooves to embrace you as well and lays her head against your chest. The two of you stay in a standing embrace despite PQ-1's propeller prodding your shins, until your stomach growls – making the two of you laugh softly.

“We should make dinner, Commander,” PQ-1 suggests with a grin, “Even if I find this more enjoyable.”

“Are you saying my cooking is bad?”

“C-Commander, please! No, not at all, I-”

PQ-1 comes to a complete halt as you kiss the top of her visor – where the forehead of any other pony would be.

“I'm just teasing you,” you reply gently, “I admit; it's fun to do.”

PQ-1's body heats up further as a myriad of different colored lights burst into activity behind her visor, the drone pony stammering softly as you set her down on her hooves. She remains that way for a moment longer as you begin to prepare the cookware required for tonight's meal, before eventually snapping out of it and rushing to your side to assist you.

Though you go to bed with her snugly held atop you that night, in the morning you find yourself the big spoon to a wingless, propeller-less PQ-1; your arms firmly wrapped around her middle and holding her close, as her hooves rest atop your hands.

A pitch perfect hum emanates from the warm drone, encouraging you to stay in bed just a little longer.
And who would you be to argue with your warm, loving, drone.