Malfunctioning Perfectly

From FembotWiki
Jump to navigation Jump to search

[Original post]

(This story has malfunctions, programming logic issues, and a pushy fembot babe that acts very robotic. Enjoy!)

Particle Bay sat out on the western shoreline. A bright, shining example of the future, it was a city that sought to have it all. Cool hover cars, gleaming towers of chrome, free internet access and best of all: all the robots you'd expect the future to have. One of those robots, a tall, sexy number by the name of Cynthia, was about to begin her day.

Cynthia stood in the bedroom of her generously-sized five room apartment. Her head, which sported a gorgeously-sculpted blonde bob cut and stared blankly with icy blue eyes, was detached from her body and set neatly on a dresser in her room by her body. Said body was six feet tall and change, taller still when her head was attached. It was clad in a tight black dress. Its straps went around the sides of her shoulders and the pencil skirt hugged her hips very tightly. Where her head connected to her neck was just several metal poles and wires run through them. One of these was a cable that trailed down her back, over her plush ass, and plugged into the wall.

Suddenly, a beep-beep-beep played from inside that hourglass figure. The body shuddered, emanating a faint whirr as it lifted its arms, turned towards the head and picked it up. Cynthia's power cable snapped loose from the wall and retracted rapidly into her neck, and a moment later her body attached her head. It spun around several times to lock in, and the beeping stopped as systems inside of her figure hummed to life. Her eyes glowed, widened, and then relaxed into a sultry stare. “Cynthia-Series five unit is online. Power at 99%. Loading daily tasks.” She set her hands on her hips, and began to load her objectives onto her HUD.

-> Do my morning maintenance and diagnostic - Go to work on time - Impress my boss, Mr. Smith - Convince him to promote me to team leader - Return home for evening maintenance and diagnostic

"Load complete." Her first listed task highlighted on her HUD and the list slid aside. She began to strut perfectly towards her mirror, and once in front of it, she adopted a smirk that blanked out her previously-neutral expression instantly. "Initiating sensor test." Lifting a hand to her right breast, she squeezed slowly and watched various sensor bars on her HUD respond. They began to rise slowly, becoming longer the more she squeezed her breast. The moment she let go, they fell, and then she repeated the same with her other breast, watching herself in the mirror as she subjected her breasts to the test. After that, she slid her hands down her sides, over her body, in between her legs and against her rear, all while she monitored her sensor input levels for anomalies. "Initiating interactive responses to sensor input. Testing responses." She froze for a moment, her body unnaturally still, then- "Mmmm. Your hands feel so good." Again she caressed her breasts, and this time her nipples stiffened against her dress, pushing a pair of hard bumps into the black fabric's surface. "Oooh, I love being touched like that." Though her voice was sensual, it lacked real conviction and sounded fake.

However, before doing a more comprehensive test, she lowered her hands and the stiff bumps under her dress receded. "Test complete. Cynthia unit is flawless." Her knowing smirk returned to her neutral, sultry glare and eyes flickered with light as she updated her objectives again.

- Do my morning maintenance and diagnostic: COMPLETE -> Go to work on time - Impress my boss, Mr. Smith - Convince him to promote me to team leader - Return home for evening maintenance and diagnostic

With that, Cynthia turned at a perfect angle, sauntered right into her waiting high heeled shoes, and strutted right out her front door and into Particle city. As she moved down the futuristic sidewalk occasional faint whirs and buzzes came from her otherwise flawless figure. She moved like walking with sensual confidence was the only way she knew HOW to, because thanks to her programming, it was. Each step was designed to make her ass sway, her breasts bounce, her arms swing gracefully, hands tilted up at the wrists. Of course, it also had this air of fake-ness to it, as her movements had very brief pauses between steps where her programming re-calculated each step to keep her curvy figure upright.

The humans that shared the city with her stared at her as she strutted by. It was impossible to miss that her perfect figure belonged to a robot woman. She didn't acknowledge it, though. It was just a part of being her. The attention faded into the background with all the other unimportant data.

But some people weren't content with staring. Someone went and smacked her ass, and she stumbled forward slightly. Her HUD flickered with balance alerts and her long, sexy legs awkwardly but briefly spread to catch her weight. She was bent forward a little and her arms were held at her side, frozen that position for several moments. A couple of seconds went by and she re-calculated to make sure she was on even ground. After confirming she was with her balance systems, she righted her bent waist with a brief whirrr, and continued to saunter, looking completely unfazed.

Just then, something caught her attention. A food cart vendor selling coffee and donuts, shouting at the busy city sidewalk to hopefully get the attention of buyers on the way to the city center. Cynthia watched as the morning rush crowd dispersed with food, her walk frozen mid-stride. On her HUD, she displayed several screen captures of her boss drinking and eating from containers displaying this vendor's brand.

- Sub Goal Calculated - Purchase Mr. Smith's favorite breakfast items - Concern: limited funds - Chances of improved relations calculated to be high enough to be worth expenditure - INITIATING PLAN

Her waist turned, then her hips, towards the vendor, and she sauntered up to the gruff-looking man and his cart. One hand on her hip, she bent forward just enough that her cleavage was the center of attention, and she smiled at him like she wanted to invite him to bed. "Hey there handsome. Got enough left for me?" One of her stock phrases she was programmed to use when purchasing items.

The vendor watched her as she put herself on display. He quirked an eyebrow but still took in the view of her rack. "You're one of those robot girls, right? Didn't think you ate food."

She responded bluntly. "I do not."

He shrugged and moved behind the cart. "Money is money. What can I get for you?"

She walked up to his register, her robotic glare set right on him. "I would like..." She froze as systems processed a request. "... six chocolate donuts, please. I would also like one large coffee, please. Black." She slipped two fingers into her cleavage and flicked out her credit card to pay for her purchases. The vendor handed over the white box and large coffee cup, the latter of which she took hold of with no heat guards.

"So, uh, you doing anything tonight?" he asked, his eyes once again wandering over her figure. "Got a number I can-" Before he could finish though, she had turned and started walking down the sidewalk once more. "Damn it."

Fifteen minutes later, Cynthia entered the building her offices were in, holding up the box of donuts she carried like a waitress. Someone new might have confused her to be a delivery girl and not one of the sales representatives of the company. Again, she brought up her list of objectives on her HUD.

- Do my morning maintenance and diagnostic: COMPLETE - Go to work on time: COMPLETE -> Impress my boss, Mr. Smith - Convince him to promote me to team leader - Return home for evening maintenance and diagnostic

With her new objective highlighted, she made a beeline for the elevator that led up to Mr. Smith's office. The doors slid open and one of the sales reps she worked with, a young guy with sleek, gel-treated black hair in a suit, greeted her.

"Hey Cynthia unit! What's with the food?"

"Hi. John." She stepped in, turned around and remained motionless during the trip upwards. "I am ready to attempt to convince Mr. Smith to promote me. These are his favorite breakfast items."

John casually reached up to take her chest in his hands. He smoothed his palms over her generous breasts and along her waist. Through the tight silk of her dress, John could feel she was artificial. Warm, soft, responsive, but still, fake."Well. You feel great, you look great, and your sales numbers are excellent. Just remember me when you're my manager, haha."

Cynthia responded to his sensual touch with a confident smile, not acknowledging his wandering hands in the slightest. "I am perfectly designed, and my programming is top-notch. The chances of me failing are mathematically insignificant." As his hands went back up to her chest, she let out a simulated sigh, finally allowing herself a small response. "To celebrate later, I'll let you service me. Updating list of objectives." She leaned into his touch, his palms filled with her breasts. Her eyes flickered rapidly, and she blinked once as her HUD updated.

- Do my morning maintenance and diagnostic: COMPLETE -> Go to work on time - Impress my boss, Mr. Smith - Convince him to promote me to team leader - NEW: Take John somewhere nice and fuck him afterward to celebrate - Return home for evening maintenance and diagnostic

As the elevator reached his floor, John reluctantly pulled his hands from her body. "It's a date." He walked past her and out the open doors, leaving her alone as the elevator resumed going to her floor. Alone in the elevator, she once again became immaculately still. Her stimulated nipples were still poking her dress as the doors opened for her. With that perfect robotic stride she made her way out and down the hall towards her boss' office.

"Come in." Mr. Eugene Smith was a young looking 30 year old man in a grey suit fitted perfectly for him. He looked well-cut, clean and professional, and he watched with curiosity as Cynthia strutted her way into his office and up to his desk.

"Mr. Smith, sir." She had spent several hours last night calculating the most optimal phrases, statements of her perfection and poses to accent to her perfect body. She would convince him to help her move up in the company, without fail. "I got you breakfast." She bent forward rather far, letting him have a clear view right down her top as she slid the treats she got him onto his desk... and then stayed like that so he could keep looking if he liked.

"I ate." He sounded mildly annoyed as he looked up at Cynthia's chest first, then into her eyes. "Can I help you, Series five?"

Internally, Cynthia had a mild programming panic. She had calculated that food was something he'd enjoy. What was wrong? Why did it fail? Externally, she was staring at him, blinking rapidly, not moving. "I..." She responded to try and not seem totally out of it. "I wanted to. To...." Finally, she decided it didn't matter. She was convincing enough without treats. "I wanted to ask you if you could consider promoting me to team leader of sales team seven." She rested her arms on his desk, and settled her breasts on top of them as she smiled seductively.

Her boss seemed unamused by this. "Why, exactly, do you deserve this promotion?"

"Why? Because." She lifted herself up, and her body subtly buzzed from the sudden movement. Then she turned herself so she could slide her sexy backside onto his desk and looked over her shoulder coyly at him while she arched her back. Another pose, programmed to entice and please. "I'm perfect, naturally. My programming is flawless. My body is fully functional. So, clearly-"

"So what about that makes you perfect at management?" Smith responded curtly as he tapped a finger on his desk.

"...I'm. Sorry?" Cynthia's brows furrowed as she tilted her head, but she still wore an alluring grin. It was an odd mix of expressions.

"Why is your programming perfect for the job of being team manager?"

Cynthia opened her mouth to speak, but froze before she responded. Her processor thrummed as she began to calculate what he was asking. She had trouble with the fact that her excellent qualities didn't have anything to actually DO with management. "I'm. Programmed with over fifteen thousand interactive phrases, and-"

"Stop." Mr. Smith lifted a hand, she she froze, mid sentence. "That doesn't have anything to do with management. You might be a perfect ROBOT, but why are you a perfect MANAGER?"

Cynthia narrowed her eyes at him. She slid forward off his desk and stood to face him, her hands set on her hips. "My programming is flawless." She tilts her hips a bit and one hand slides up her body and over her curvy chest to try and draw his eyes. "My programming calculated that I should be manager. Therefore, I must be perfect at management."

Smith wasn't convinced and so needled her with another question. "But WHY did your programming come to that conclusion?"

Cynthia pursed her lips in an expression of frustration. Why didn't this human get it? "My programming is perfect because I am programmed to understand that I am. I am perfect because I am programmed to think I am. I am." Her head twitched slightly and she started to sway from heel to heel. She used her hand to wave air towards her breasts to cool them off. "These are a lot of questions."

"Cynthia. I recognize you are a good asset for this company, but you get a lot of sales because you have a script you can follow, and you do it faster than the human workers." Smith explained as he watched her sway. "My questions are nothing compared to the hundreds of on-the-fly calculations you'll have to make as a team leader."

The robot lowered her hands back down. "I. I can handle questions... ask me anything. I can handle it. Ask me anything." She blinked once.

"Fine. You have two employees. One of them comes in consistently late. One comes in under quota every month. You can only fire one. Which do you fire?" Smith folded his hands as he waited for her response.

"That's easy." Cynthia stiffly lifted a finger to her chin to look thoughtful. "That's easy! I would. Hmm. Consistently late? That results in fewer sales calls. Under quota? Hm. I'm. Not sure? Processing." A dull hum started up inside of her head. Her hips swayed once, then went stock-still. Her finger dropped from her chin as her arm went limp, then whirrrred up back to position.

"Also, you need to make a decision between prioritizing sales of a product to meet a contract OR hiring on a new contract for your team to make more money up-front."

"B-but the last question!" She protested as her head suddenly twitched to the side. Her lips parted with a shocked gasp.

"As a manager of your sales team, you'll have to constantly consider multiple duties and questions at once."

She reached up and laced her fingers through her bob cut blonde hair. She could detect her CPU vibrating as it worked hard inside of her casing. "Understood. I can arbitrarily assign answers. I'm programmed to arbitrarily make decisions when CPU load reaches a certain threshold." She grinned, assured in her response!

"Not even CLOSE to good enough!" Mr. Smith shook his head. "As management you can't just make decisions at random. You need a reason to come to the conclusions you make."

Cynthia's eyes widened once more. The hum in her head picked up in volume. Her smirk became a jaw-dropped 'oh' and her arms fell slack at her sides. "Oh. I see. But. I. Am perfect for the job, I assure. You. I'm intelligent. And.." One of her shoulders twitched up, and the strap hugging it fell loose, which made her top slide down further, exposing more cleavage and making her look disheveled.

"Series Five. You're a total mess. Your lack of computational power is obvious. Your request is denied. You are excused."

Just then, Cynthia's HUD updated.

- Do my morning maintenance and diagnostic: COMPLETE - Go to work on time: COMPLETE -> Impress my boss, Mr. Smith: FAILED - Convince him to promote me to team leader - Return home for evening maintenance and diagnostic

Her head twitched as a brief zap was heard in her head. Another HUD update went through.

- Do my morning maintenance and diagnostic: COMPLETE - Go to work on time: COMPLETE -> Impress my boss, Mr. Smith: FAILED - Convince him to promote me to team leader: FAILED - NEW: Take John somewhere nice and fuck him afterward to celebrate: ERROR, CONFLICT IN OBJECTIVE! - Return home for evening maintenance and diagnostic

"I. Failed? But I never fail!" She turned to walk out, but her movements had lost much of their finesse. Her long, shapely legs stomped forward as she chopped her arms fakely and robotically. "Logic issues detected. Program errors detected. System instability alert." She said in a calm monotone as she walked back to the elevator.

"I can't have programming errors, though!" She protested in her usual sensual tone.

She came to a freeze in front of the elevator. Cynthia extended her finger, paused, then reached forward to hit the call button. As the elevator came to the top, the doors parted and revealed John standing inside, carrying a box of files. "Cynthia?... you look like a mess."

"Negative. I look perfect. I look perfect. I look perfect." Her head twitched with each repetition and she stomped into the elevator, pushing the box out of his hands. "Johhhn~" She moaned out for him as she pressed her round silicone breasts against his chest. Her hands slid hungrily down his body and grabbed his belt to undo it. The poor man just barely managed to hit the emergency stop to freeze them between floors just as his pants fell around his ankles.

"John. I failed. I failed to become manager. I m-must succeed-succeed-succeed at my next objective; fuck you to celebrate becoming manager."

John gasped as Cynthia sunk to her knees. He couldn't help but get hard as she pulled her top down and allowed her synthetic breasts to spill out. "Uhm. Cynthia, not to put a damper on things b-but ooooh!" Her thick, ruby colored lips swallowed his cock as she looked up at him. Her body made labored whines and whirs and she steadily pumped back and forth, his shaft enveloped in her mouth.

"S-shut up, John. You're. M-making my circuits unstable." As a robot she could still 'speak' even when her mouth was busy thanks to her voice speakers. "Programming is unstable. I'm having some serious issues. issues. Error." Internally she understood that she couldn't succeed at this objective. Nothing to celebrate, after all. Perhaps she could FORCE the objective to pass if she did it anyways. She must not fail. Cynthia reached up to stroke her own breasts, kneading them as she pumped her lips.

"Temperature issues detected. Opening panels to compensate." On her back, and above her breasts, rectangular panels opened up. On her back, a stack of systems dedicated to her balance and poise were located. Inside of her breasts was a battery and cooling system with circuitry dedicated to monitoring her functions. "Mmm, John. I love sucking your fat cock." She moaned out, her voice now clearly coming through her opened chest panel.

John had to admit the view, for some reason, was arousing. He felt hot pules of pleasure rushing through his loins with each dive Cynthia took. He rested a hand on her head, guiding her to go faster, even as her servos protested against the quickened movement. "Fuck yes, Cyn! You're such a fucking machine! I'm about to cum!"

"Mmm, yes John, I want to see you cum all over my tits!" Cynthia excitedly popped off of his shaft, then lifted her breasts to help him aim.

"Cynthia, wait! Fffff-" He curled his toes, gripped the wall and tried his best to aim away but she moved so fast! He couldn't help but blow his load just as her lips left his cock. Streaks of messy cum splattered deep into her open panel. Instantly, systems crackled, and smoke began to rise.

"ERROR! ERROR! Critical damage to cooling and battery systems detected! John, look what you did!" She rose to her feet awkwardly. Her feel turned in and her thighs spread wide to try and stay upright. Her hair was a mess and her eyes eyes crossed as smoke rose from her open mouth, ears and chest panel.

John didn't want to be stuck on an elevator with an overloading robot woman, so he quickly hit the next floor button. "What I did? YOU told me to do it! You messed up!"

"Impossible. Impossible. Impossible." Once they reached the next floor, Cynthia pulled her top back up and turned to walk off. each step came with a loud, robotic bzzzzt, sparks now firing from her ears and open chest panel. "I'm perfect. Perfect. I'm. Having issues. John came all over. My circuits. I asked him to? I. Am malfunctioning perfectly."

Her head began to twitch erratically. Black smoke was now rising in thick plumes from her cleavage. "I'm overloading. My tits are overloading. My CPU is busted. Busted. I can not compute." She froze as workers gathered around to watch her melt down. Her arms chopped lazily, head twitching over and over. And then...

POW! The back of her head blew out, making her gasp in shock as a response. Her face was frozen in utter surprise, her fake teeth clenched and eyes wide and crossed. "Oops! I. I. I....." her voice began to drone down, deeper and deeper as she bent forward, arms limp, head dangling, bend over at the waist and her ass stuck out. Her HUD flickered and spazzed out as it displayed one last update.

- Do my morning maintenance and diagnostic: COMPLETE - Go to work on time: COMPLETE -> Impress my boss, Mr. Smith: FAILED - Convince him to promote me to team leader: FAILED - NEW: Take John somewhere nice and fuck him afterward to celebrate: ERROR ERROR ERROR - Return home for evening maintenance and diagnostic: FAILED

"Faaaaillllled...." With that, her blue eyes went dim, her circuits totally overloaded and ruined. The company put in a call to tell her producers the unit had gone defunct and her housing unit was free for a new model... but to please not have her seek employment with this company.

← Story Archive