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Snow gently fell past the row of tall windows as I strode past them, my total focus on the mission rendering me oblivious to the spectacle except to note the likely effect on road conditions. At the end of the unadorned hallway, I keyed the code I'd been given into a pad beside the incongruously heavy steel door. A small green light blinked on and the door obediently opened to reveal a set of steel-treaded concrete stairs leading downwards.

Mmm, I thought to myself, obedience: the pressure of the rubber ball gag in my mouth, Adrian's hard cock sliding in and out of my tight ass while the nipple clamps turned every movement of my perfect breasts into ecstasy. He had called me a disobedient bitch when he came home early to find me splayed out on our bed, masturbating to the very thought of him. I didn't argue. I had absolutely broken the rules by pleasuring myself without him present, and my shame was more punishment than even he could devise. Besides, I loved it when he called me names.

I blinked the memory aside and began my descent into the dimly lit access way. My boots thudded on each step as I quickly continued down past 2, 3, 4 landings. Finally I reached the bottom and keyed the code again. The door swung open to reveal another long passageway, this one of dull gray metal and lined with electrical conduits. I wound my way carefully through the maze of corridors until I reached a heavy blast-door.

No stolen code would get me past this one; instead I took a cracking module from my belt and attached it to the diagnostic jacks next to the door. Pressing a small button on the back, I perceived high-pitched whine that grew steadily louder until, with a low “pop” from somewhere inside the wall, the door ponderously slid up into the wall. Within was a small, hexagonal room lit only by the light of several displays set around its circumference. I smiled and, taking the specialized storage unit I had been provided with, arranged a targeted dump of the last 6 months worth of data. It only took a few minutes to download into the device, after which I worked my way back to where I had entered.

Turning the corner into the apartment building lobby, I noted that I was no longer alone. A tall brunette stood between me and the exit.

“Hello! I don't think I've seen you around here before,” she greeted me. Reaching up to brush aside a long strand of dark brown hair that had fallen across her face, she continued, “Let me introduce myself, I'm Nella,” she smiled sincerely and put out her hand. I looked the interloper up and down. She was wearing a black mini-dress with a plunging neckline that exhibited her generous cleavage, a pair of long satin gloves that came up past her elbows, and stiletto heels with black stockings.

“My name's Leona,” I introduced myself, “I live downtown; between Bernal and O’Neill.”

“Oh, by Stanford Bridge, right?” Nella said, looking thoughtful.

“That's right; above the café.” I smiled back at her.

“Tsio’s? I went there once with my boyfriend. He really liked the Beef Stroganoff. By the way, you look fabulous! I love those boots,” she said, pointing to my knee-highs, “The straps look really cool. And where can I get a catsuit like that?”

“Oh, you just have to know where to ask,” I small-talked. “By the way, where's your boyfriend?”

She laughed, “I strangled him to death with his tie. You should have seen the funny face he made!”

“That's nice,” I said, pulling the inconspicuous looking shock-gun from my belt. Nella’s smile didn't falter as she lunged towards me, wrapping her hands around my slender throat. I felt the front of the boxy weapon in my hand come up against her belly and decided to take the small risk that the charge might jump to my body through her hands. I thumbed the stud. There was a loud “crack!” sound and Nella’s hands went slack just enough for me to push her back against the wall.

The front of her dress had been charred through in a small area, beneath which a similarly sized hole in the abdomen was apparent. A few sparks burst from the injury, and a low, intermittent buzzing sound was audible. The artificial woman's body was jerking and twitching uncontrollably as actuators responded to the chaotic signals coming from her overloaded electronics. She slid down the wall, her dress hiking up to reveal a smooth, pink pussy as she slumped to a spread-eagle position on the floor.

“You will not esca-sca-sca-a-a-a-a-pe,” she threatened in a digitally distorted voice. “I-I-I-I-I have alerted the others.” Something crackled angrily inside her and synthetic lubricant began to steadily squirt from her vagina, forming a little puddle between her twitching legs.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, “How many are you in contact with?” She wasn't likely to answer me, but it was worth a try.

Nella's artificial pussy ran out of lubricant, the pump sputtering on vacuum. She looked up at me, a smile apparent on her lips through the spasms wracking her face. “All of us,” she said triumphantly.

I shut her up with a pair of blasts to the chest that left a smoking hole burnt into her pale synth-skin. Exiting the building I straddled the Ducati I’d commandeered and started the ignition. It purred to life and I guided it out of the parking lot. There didn't seem to be anyone about, thankfully, so I turned onto the street and accelerated up to a little over forty; the fastest I could go while retaining control on the wet surface. The snow had stopped, leaving only a light dusting over the cityscape.

Cold wind whipped my platinum-blond bob, and I relished the engine’s sharp vibrations through the thin latex layer that separated my clit from the seat. I gasped in pleasure when, cornering to a larger roadway, my crotch slid a few inches over the textured leather. I bit my lip, forcing myself to concentrate on the road with all my faculties and was glad I had done so when I barely managed to avoid a sedan that careened towards me from one of the side streets. It slid in behind me and the driver, a fantastically beautiful redhead I saw in my mirror, gunned the engine to catch up.

The heretofore deserted roads suddenly became rather busy as a variety of vehicles converged on my position with homicidal intent. I began weaving through the side streets to avoid pursuit and prevent my enemies from roadblocking me. As I roared through an intersection, a convertible missed my rear wheel by only a few inches. The redhead was less lucky, as she plowed into the sports-car at full speed. She was ejected through the windshield and landed in a crumpled, sparking heap at the base of a light-pole.

“Should have worn your seatbelt,” I chided through my grin while swerving to avoid an oncoming delivery van driven by a petite Asian woman in a floral-pattern Qi-Pao. She hauled it around behind me, but there was no way for her to catch up as I accelerated up an on-ramp. Once on the highway I pushed past 90 for a while, needing to get to my exit before they blocked the road.

I managed to reach it unmolested and dropped back into the maze of city streets. I was nearing my destination, giddy with victory and the thought of how Adrian was likely to reward me, when a blue hatchback dashed in front of me. I hit the brakes and swung around to dive down a side-street, flipping the driver off with one gloved hand as I flew past her. Turning left, I sped down a straightaway.

I noted a statuesque, raven-haired woman standing on the overpass, and smiled at her as I neared it. There wasn't anything she could do to stop me now. I barely had time to look surprised as she swan dived into my path. I braked, skidding to one side in a hopeless attempt to avoid her as she smacked into the pavement in front of me. There was a jarring impact as the front wheel struck her legs and I was launched headfirst at least a dozen meters.

I threw my arms out in front of me and watched one buckle completely as it contacted the asphalt. My side hit and I bounced, rolling uncontrollably, down the street until I finally skidded to a stop on the sidewalk in front of a service station. My vision filled with digital distortion, blacking out completely every few seconds, and pretty much every component in my body was reporting error messages. Somehow my CPU managed to survive relatively undamaged, and once I had cleared out all the priority alerts that were clogging up my memory I began to take stock of my condition.

The first thing I noticed was the low crackling and buzzing noises emitting from the great wealth of damaged electronics I had just been gifted with. I sat up, hearing the tortured whine of various bent and otherwise malfunctioning servomechanisms in my abdomen. Unexpectedly, my vision cleared somewhat but the image proved disorienting until I realized that one of my eyes was dangling by its wiring several inches below the socket. I tried to reach up and put it back in with one hand, but realized that the forearm the hand was attached to hung loosely from the elbow from some frayed wires. The other gave better results, and I managed to clumsily pop my ocular unit back into its socket.

My head was cocked away from the side with the damaged eye, but trying to right it only produced a few nasty electrical pops and some additional error messages. I looked down, my head jimmying as the few functional actuators fought the dead ones. The synth-skin over my right knee had been torn away, and the knee-cap had been ground to a shiny, striated finish. I tried moving the leg, and was answered only by a crackle and some white smoke leaking out from under the abraded metal. The hip-joint was functional but sloppy; like most of the others in my body it had been torque out of shape by repeated impacts with the road. I checked the other leg and was happy to find it more or less intact.

I began the arduous process of getting to my feet. Rolling left, I got my knees under me and, supporting myself with the one good arm, got my left foot planted. My right followed, though less easily due to the nonfunctional knee. With servos loudly protesting, I stood up unsteadily. Inside of me, I heard some clattering noises as various loose parts shifted and was staggered for a moment when one of them caused a short. I began limping towards the garage; the only available shelter, and heard engines in the distance.

“Shit,” I said, or meant to say, at any rate. Somewhere between my CPU and voice synthesizer it got turned into a garbled digital squeal. I checked my belt to find that both the storage device and my shock-gun were thankfully still intact. I could still do this. Assuming a city full of insane sex-robots didn't manage to take me out first.

Reaching the gas station door, I noticed my reflection in the plate glass and marveled that I was still functional. The whole right side of my face had been stripped down to bare metal. The small actuators that gave me the ability to mimic human facial expressions weren't damaged, they were completely gone; probably scattered all over the road behind me. Pearly white teeth shone where my cheek had been and the eye I had tucked back into place was slightly lopsided.

Looking down, my gorgeous latex catsuit hung in tatters on my right side as did the synth-skin under it. Figures, I thought to myself, that this would happen during the only mission where I was allowed to dress how I liked. My right arm was a total mess, its smashed mechanisms completely visible. A rectangular panel on that side of my torso had been torn away, revealing a recess from which projected the edges of several circuit boards. The area around them was blackened with soot and there were charred –looking components on the visible slivers of their surfaces.

The door was, of course, locked. I punched through the glass and disengaged the mechanism before dragging my sorry, short-circuited ass inside. The place couldn't have been deserted for long; the shelves were stocked with energy drinks and road-snacks, and the refrigerators were still on. What I needed, I decided, was a vehicle that could get me the hell out of here, and I was most likely to find one in the garage.

I flipped on the lights in the cluttered shop, and was relieved to find a chunky-looking pickup truck that seemed intact and had the keys in the ignition. Now I just needed to hope that there was gas in the damned thing. Tires screeched out front just as I turned the key and saw that I had a little over a quarter of a tank. It'd do. I wasn't use to driving with only my left foot, but that's why I'm programmed with the capacity to learn, after all. Pausing to think for a moment, I snapped on my seatbelt.

I backed up to the rear of the shop, knocking over a few tool-carts and thudding into the work-bench. Outside the smoky garage-door windows I saw several shadows moving about. I slammed the gas pedal down as far as it would go and heard the rear tires squeal as they fought for grip on the smooth concrete. The truck lurched forwards, slamming through the aluminum door with a terrifically loud crash. I felt something go under the tires, but didn't realize until I looked back that I'd run over the two gynoids who'd been standing out front. I'd have said something pithy if I'd had the spare system resources. Or the ability to speak, for that matter.

I swerved drunkenly onto the street and weaved towards my destination pursued by half a dozen vehicles of every make and model. There was no use trying to avoid them, they certainly knew where I was going now. I didn't have any plan for how to deal with my pursuers once I got there, but I was sure something would come to me. Probably

Finally, I noted the telltale flicker in the air ahead and saw the marble façade of city hall. Taking my inability to rapidly climb stairs into account, I put the pedal to the metal and jounced up the shallow steps until I had reached the wide bronze-frieze doors. The coupe on my tail attempted to repeat the performance and ended up tearing the bottom half of its nose off on the stairs. As other vehicles converged from every direction, disgorging every possible variety of beautiful woman, I pushed through the heavy metal doors and doggedly continued on to the main hall.

Behind me, the doors swung open and I heard rapid footsteps on stone. It was still over 25 m to the hole I had melted through the metal security gate, and there was no way for me to outrun them. I turned and unsteadily aimed the shock-gun at the statuesque, freckled gynoid approaching me. If I hadn't been as preoccupied I might have wondered what kind of human behavioral simulation would have you wearing a sun-dress and sandals in the middle of winter.

“I'm sorry, but we can't let you escape. Maybe you can join use once we reproglaznigr-r-r-r-ribzzzzzzzzt” she said as the pulse entered her open mouth and fried her speech-synthesizer. Smoke wafted from the pleasure-droid's mouth, nose, and ears as overloaded components failed, and she began walking faster and faster in an increasingly tight circle until clattering to the ground. The gynoid’s legs continued to speed up until something inside of her let go with a bang, after which she ground to a halt.

I had nearly reached the security gate by this time but a tide of gynoids, some with improvised weapons, were surging through the main entrance and rapidly gaining on me. I ducked through and turned, frying the first feminine form that bent to pass through the hole in the gate. She fell across it as I intended, and I repeated the process until the shock-gun had run out of charge. By that point a dozen or so of my pursuers were piled, sputtering and sparking, in the opening. Others had come up behind and were rapidly clearing the block, though, so I could hardly afford to tarry.

The marble neo-classical of the city hall now gave way to painted metal, and I made a turn onto a long gallery with heavy, numbered metal exits set at regular intervals. I keyed a code into the pad by door 14 and waited as it opened with agonizing slowness. There was no mistaking the sound of activity approaching my position.

I was strapping into the elevator when they charged into the gallery. A slim, perky-looking unit lunged just as the doors closed, her head and arms being locked into place as I keyed the emergency override. The elevator accelerated upwards, shearing off her appendages in s shower of sparks even as she monomaniacally tried to push her way further in. The head stared at me with empty eyes as I rode the rest of the way up.

At the top I unstrapped myself and pushed free of the seat, thrusting off with my good leg to float to the handhold by the door. It opened into the unmarked, cylindrical transfer tube, down which I propelled myself as quickly as possible. I thudded into the airlock at the end somewhat less than gracefully and passed through it into the dim crew-compartment of the cutter. Awkwardly bouncing off the inside of the cockpit as I maneuvered into position, I snapped the harness closed around me and flew through the preflight checklist as quickly as I could with only one arm.

I reached behind my neck and peeled the synth-skin covering away from my interface ports before plugging in the sensor-interface line. Nothing happened. I pulled it out and plugged it in again, but still wasn't receiving any signal. The port was dead. Well, I'd just have to do it the old fashioned way. I plugged the line into a helmet and pulled it on. My vision was filled with the perfect illusion of the cutter's surroundings overlaid with systems data and virtual representations of both my hands and the ship's controls.

Beyond the semicircle of displays, the cavernous docking bay stretched in every direction. Huge structural members suspended the docking gantries and transfer tubes that extended in from the cylindrical exterior surface. The place was well occupied with every type of small craft, from repair-drone motherships to passenger liners and everything between. It was also completely dead, the enormous floodlights that provided illumination showed no movement of any kind.

That suited me just fine. There was a clanking noise as the transfer tube separated and docking clamps disengaged from the faceted shape of the cutter. I guided its 30 meter length away on maneuvering thrusters, and flipped her end-over-end to point towards the hole I had sliced into the docking bay doors to get in.

An alert appeared, with red arrow pointing down and behind me. I twisted in the harness to see a 100 m passenger ship thrusting hard away from dock. As I drifted at 5 m/s towards the opening, my eyes widened in surprise. The liner shot towards me, the flare of her main engine heating the gantry behind her to a cherry-red glow. The lightly built transfer tube disintegrated in the radioactive plasma spray as I lit off my own main engine in an attempt to avoid the suicidal ramming attempt.

Her curving trajectory passed astern of the cutter by less than 30 m before caroming into the side of the bay. Her flank had been melted and peeled away by my exhaust and several twitching feminine forms spilled out as the bow crumpled. The ship swung wildly under the thrust of her drive until it suddenly shut down; the safety systems finally kicking in.

I killed the cutter’s axial rotation, watching the spinning starscape outside the bay doors slowly come to a halt just as I slipped into open space. I burned a few hundred mps of delta-vee to put me on an intercept trajectory with my pickup then flipped 180 degrees to face back whence I had come. Partly it was to keep an eye out for any aggressive behavior and partly I was just setting up for the deceleration burn when I reached my destination, but the view certainly didn't hurt.

End-on, the colony cylinder was a slowly spinning 2 km circle of dull lunar regolith radiation shielding interrupted here and there by various structures poking through. The spinal docking bay that had seemed enormous from the inside was visible only as a small, off-color patch with a tiny black hole in it – the one I'd come through. Vast solar arrays, like gleaming gossamer wings held together by spiderweb-thin girders, floated in the space around it. Squat automated manufacturing and food production facilities crouched among the arrays, producing the food and material goods the colony required. Had required, I reminded myself, for there was every indication that none of the 22,378 humans living there had survived the inexplicable revolt of the more than 100,000 pleasure-droids which had formed the place's raison d'etre.

The colony steadily shrank in my field of view until it was little more than a particularly bright constellation of stars. The timer in my lower left field of vision reached zero and I was gently pressed into my seat for a few seconds as I matched orbits with the dagger-like shape of Concordiat Space Navy frigate Chelyabinsk.

I noticed one of her 2-meter point defense turrets tracking my movement as I transmitted the appropriate response to their IFF query. Way to have faith, people, I thought. A visual comms window flicked open in front of me to reveal a rather concerned-looking captain Beauchene. When he saw me his face went white for a few seconds and I heard him swallow over the link. I suppose my visage might have been a tad unsettling, half female perfection and half gleaming death's-head as it was at the moment.

Beauchene cursed under his breath. “I see it did not go as easily as we might have hoped.”

I haltingly shook my head.

“You cannot speak?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Ah, I see. Come aboard, agent, and I promise we shall see what our on-board fabrication facilities can do for you.” The comms-link closed.

A rectangular portion of the frigate's brilliant white skin slid up into the hull, revealing the cutter's launch cradle, and I allowed the autopilot to guide her in to a perfect landing. I heard the familiar clunking of a docking collar as I pulled off the helmet and unstrapped myself. Powering down the cutter, I floated back and exited through the lock.

It was with a great deal of surprise that I found myself being piped aboard by a boatswain's mate, something typically reserved for visiting flag officers or other honored guests. Unfortunately, I ruined the dignity of the moment by pushing off into the compartment with slightly more force than I had intended. Experienced voidman that he was, Beauchene had braced himself against the bulkhead when he saw my error and thankfully managed to keep me from careening into it.

I tried to thank him, but it came out as “Tharzzzzk Do-do-dododod” followed by a crackle as my voice synthesizer finally gave up completely. Ah well, he understood.

The captain sent me to the machine shop for whatever repairs they could put together in the field, and I got some rather fantastic looks on the way there. The cute navy tech that looked me over meant well, but my hardware is rather… specialized. Not the sort of things you can get the fab-pattern for off a colony net. I tried to tell him to be careful, but the kid ended up accidentally shorting my power supply while he was wrist-deep in my rear access panel and that's the last thing I remember. Apparently I caught fire. Afterwards, I heard that Beauchene sounded about ready to airlock the poor guy on my behalf, but settled for a demotion and lots of time outside polishing the laser mirrors.

I was next activated in what I immediately recognized as Adrian's lab. My head was lying on its side on the bench, connected to my body only by a thick bundle of wiring. Much of my body was in various states of disassembly, and my lover stood over me humming quietly to himself as he worked on my internal mechanisms.

“Welcome back, Leona. You've had quite the adventure,” he said softly.

“Oh, master, I've missed you so!” I exclaimed, “I wasn't sure I'd make it back. There were so many of them and I was badly damaged!”

“I've reviewed your system files, and you did magnificently, Leona. There's no one in the entire Concordiat who could have done it better.” His voice was filled with pride, and he gently stroked my newly repaired face. I thrilled at his touch, cherishing every bit of pressure and temperature data from where his fingers met my synth-skin.

“I have to shut you off again, but when I reactivate you you'll be back in one piece, I think.” With that, he pressed something on the diagnostic pad connected to my neck-ports and the room faded out.

My internal chronometer indicated 7 hours, 23 minutes, and 51 seconds had passed when I was next booted up. I was relieved to discover that my systems were intact and fully functional again. Sitting up on the bench, I saw Adrian smiling, arms folded across his deep chest.

“I think you get more beautiful every time I see you,” he said.

“That is not possible. As you have stated many times, my body was perfect when you constructed it.” I slid off the table and onto my feet, noting the approval in Adrian's eyes at how my firm, round breasts bounced with the impact.

“You're right, of course,” he admitted.

My creator stepped forwards and our bodies met, my lips pressing against his as I felt the warm palms of his hands on my back. I felt the firmness of his growing erection against the inside of my thigh, and ground my hips against it. Adrian gasped, his lips leaving mine as he moved his hands down to grasp the roundness of my ass. I nestled my head into the hollow of his neck, teasing him with love bites while I slipped a hand between his legs to playfully squeeze his balls.

While he shrugged out of the shirt he'd been wearing, I undid the clasp of his pants and let them slide down around his knees. “I want your cock so badly, master,” I told him as I began to stroke it, “it's been so long since I've come with you.”

Suddenly, he grasped my hair and forcibly bent me over. “I noticed that you were very naughty while you were away. You initialized your sex systems without my permission,” he accused sharply.

“Master, I didn't mean to!” I explained, “The seat just felt so good on my pussy! I couldn't help my-” I was cut off by the loud crack of his palm striking my ass.

“I'm not interested in excuses, insolent slut; just make sure it doesn't happen again.” He brought his hand down on my rear once again, the delicious spike in sensory data flooding my secondary processors.

“Oh yes, I’m such a naughty whore, master! I deserve to be punished!” I felt a trickle of lubricant slide down the inside of my thigh.

“You're very wet for me, aren't you?” he asked, gathering up the fluid with one finger, his touch stopping just tantalizingly short of my smooth, tight pussy.

“Oh, yes! I want to feel you cumming inside me,” I said, my voice filled with desire.

“Well you'll just have to beg for it then. Maybe, if I think you're sorry enough about getting off on a motorcycle of all things, I'll give you nice hard fucking.”

Adrian let go of my hair and I dropped to my knees before him, hands clasped in synthetic contrition. “Please,” I begged, “I'm sorry for being so disobedient. I promise it will never happen again! You can even disconnect my pussy if you want,” I meekly offered. He seemed unmoved, sighing gently as his head throbbed mere inches from my face. “Please don't hate me for being such a filthy, insolent, bitch, master!” I looked up at him with loving eyes, my full lips parted.

His stony expression softened. “I could never hate you, Leona, you're my greatest creation. And you've done such an amazing job on this mission. I was worried sick when I heard the condition you were in when the frigate picked you up.”

“Well, what your greatest creation wants most in the whole universe right now is to suck your cock and have you fuck her until her servos give out.” I smiled evilly.

Adrian laughed, “I suppose that's not a bad reward, if it's what you'd li-” he drew in his breath as I sucked firmly on his head. My lips wrapped around his shaft, I began sliding back and forth along it.

“Ah… Leona, careful! I – ah, you're so good at that, I'm getting close!” I ended my little bit of foreplay with a gentle kiss on the tip of his manhood and stood up. He was breathing hard, but smiling as I hopped up onto the workbench and spread my legs.

“I think I need a little diameter adjustment. My poor plastic pussy shrank a little bit while I was away and now it needs something big and hard to stretch it out again.” I accentuated my point with by slipping a finger inside the moist warmth and brought it back out again, “I can barely fit my finger in,” I noted disapprovingly, and sucked the lubricant off it.

Adrian put his arms around my waist and eagerly plunged himself into me. I moaned, pinching my nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand as his cock activated the dense sensory nets embedded in the walls of my synthetic vagina. Data flooded my processors and my eyes rolled back in artificial bliss.

“Oh yes, fuck me in my tight little cunt!” I enthused as he reamed me. He grunted as my fingernails sank into his ass-cheeks, and stepped up the pace. I moved my body with the rhythm, savoring the way his sack slapped against me with each thrust. At last he came, warm cum flooding into my pussy. My own orgasm subroutine triggered, and I moaned into his mouth as he hungrily kissed me.

I lay back on the cool steel of the table, idly fondling my breasts. Adrian pulled out and I felt some of his load follow, dripping down onto the table.

“Oh dear, you've made quite a mess, master,” I lazily mentioned. He laughed, pulling his shirt back on.

“I suppose I did." Sighing, he continued, "not nearly so big a mess as this colony situation, though.” He looked suddenly serious, “you should get dressed, Leona. We have a briefing on the subject in a few hours and Admiral Oshiro will likely want to talk to you about it. I should review my notes on the data you retrieved, too. Not all of us have digitally perfect memories.”

“What should I wear?” I asked.

“Whatever you like,” he said. Then, thinking better of it, “nothing too flashy or revealing, okay?”

“You ruin all of my fun,” I pouted, thinking of the faces Intelligence Director Kay would make if I showed up to an important briefing in heels and a mesh dress…

“Leona,” he glared.

“You know I would never willingly disobey you, master. I just hope no mountebank will show up and force me at gunpoint into a pair of assless chaps.” He almost collapsed laughing.

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