A half-formed miniature robot floated in the air above Amit Kapadia’s crowded workstation, drawn into existence as a hard-light duplicate of the simple toy being scanned by his prototype invention. There was still magic in witnessing this process, even after years of development and thousands of trials, and Amit lamented that his Director still refused to see the potential held by his Hard Light Replicator. The ability to use hard-light for more than just architecture and defense applications, but to instead construct literally anything could change the world! If only he could - how long had that alert been on his data visor? Amit swallowed when he saw it was from his Director.
“Dr. Satya Vaswani will be arriving shortly with a number of scientists from Overwatch. Prep the HLR for demonstration.”
“Amit? Amit!?” He was slow to react to the increasingly urgent voice, still reeling from this message. The mysterious Doctor Vaswani? And Overwatch? Arriving now?! “Amit!!” It wasn’t the voice that finally pulled him from his thoughts, but rather the swell of harmonic energy emanating from the partially formed robot floating before him. The unstable hard-light construct fizzled out in a flash of energy and crackling blue vapor. He sheepishly turned to see his diminutive colleague Deepa standing beside him, staring in wide-eyed admonishment. “Where is your head, Amit!?” she demanded. “And if I might add, you don’t look so good.”
“Overwatch wants to see the Replicator.” He surprised himself with how quiet his voice was, but when he tried to speak up, his words cracked. “And they’re almost here.”
Deepa’s dark eyes grew even wider, and he braced for a tirade about how such limited notice could only mean the Director was setting them up to fail. “This is fantastic news!” she cheered, and Amit had to remind himself who he was talking to. “If we have Overwatch’s interest, they must see its potential as a weapon against the dastardly omnics!” Amit found Deepa a curious partner in developing the HLR: relentlessly encouraging, arriving at Vishkar and providing stunning insights just when he had been ready to scuttle the whole thing. But she also had an incredible naivete, struggling with some the most basic concepts of hard-light engineering… it often made him wonder how she had gotten through the interview process. She also never missed an opportunity to vent her hatred of anything with even a semblance of artificial intelligence, her fist-shaking vitriol seeming straight out of a high school stage play.
Amit always wanted to probe her about her past to discover what motivated her, but never dared to take any action that would threaten their professional relationship – the HLR project was what mattered, and he was afraid that anything opening a door to something less formal could jeopardize everything they had worked so hard for.
The lab trembled briefly as an Orca transport swung past the tinted glass, maneuvering toward the nearby landing pad. Deepa rushed to the window, tapping on her data visor’s magnification as the large aircraft touched down. Amit joined her, his visor-enhanced sight spotting Director Khanna fidgeting nervously while the craft’s passenger doors opened.
Out stepped the tall figure of Dr. Vaswani, dressed in a sensually snug teal dress accented in gold, cut high enough to reveal a great portion of her caramel hips. Black stockings rising to mid-thigh heightened the outfit’s salacious appeal, and the doctor’s hip-swaying saunter and smug expression across her stunning features suggested she knew precisely the effect this was having upon the already nervous Director. Amit also noticed her left arm was now a pristine white prosthetic, the glowing light in its palm hinting at a micronized hard-light forge.
Following her was a figure who provided a marked contrast to the tall, elegant Vaswani. A full head shorter and bearing a more robust figure bundled in a thick parka despite the day’s hot sun, Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou almost tripped in her heavy winter boots when exiting the craft, her hands only just catching some sort of gun-like device that exuded an icy mist. She adjusted the glasses on her round, pretty face, and gave an embarrassed grimace to the blonde woman behind her.
Amit immediately recognized Dr. Angela Ziegler. Many had questioned the brilliant doctor’s motivations behind her carefully cultivated image, from the angel-like wings of her gravity-harness to a sensor array styled as a literal golden halo atop her head, even the adoption of the callsign ‘Mercy’. He could believe the rumors she had a darker, self-aggrandizing side – but seeing her respond to Dr. Zhou with a beatific smile that radiated beauty and sympathy, he struggled to see her as anything but a benevolent angel.
The door to the craft began to close, a blur of motion zipping out just before the hull was sealed. The streak of light resolved into a perky, athletic woman with tousled brown hair, bouncing with energy. Amit knew her as Tracer, a former test pilot whose accident with an experimental aircraft had unmoored her from time itself. The glowing harness she wore on her chest and back not only anchored her temporally, but gave her the ability to move in short bursts between her immediate past, present, and future. Amit was embarrassed to admit that upon seeing this living case study of quantum mechanics and relativity, his thoughts focused more on how her pert backside lived up to its reputation, stunningly presented in her skin-tight blazing orange leggings.
“Doesn’t it seem just a bit unfair that the most brilliant women in Overwatch are also ridiculously attractive?” Deepa sighed, watching Director Khanna make his fumbling introductions to the team.
Amit found the complaint absurd coming from her – she may have been on the shorter side, but her curves turned many heads at Vishkar, and Amit had to actively bend his focus toward his research whenever she glanced at him in her particular way, head cocked, her dark brown eyes searching his face, the corner of her soft lips turning into a playful smile...
“Oh my god, you need to stop thinking about those women and get your head straight!” Deepa exclaimed, snapping him back to the present once more. She bustled the two of them into the neighboring lab, snapping on the lights and making a desperate attempt to get the wire-and-component strewn chamber presentable for their guests, shoving various test electronics and their hard light duplicates into corners. When stepping past the 3 meter tall upright cylinder of the HLR scanner at the center of the room, she activated the system with a casual slap of its main power button, the experimental machine thrumming with energy.
Amit hurried to a terminal to revert to the last stable build of the HLR’s complex suite of control programs, wanting to avoid the unstable and potentially explosive results he and Deepa had seen with their latest experiments. The main lab door opened, Director Khanna stammering through a litany of his organization’s other projects they might be interested in, while the far more collected Dr. Vaswani ignored him and strode confidently toward the machine. “You are Amit Kapadia,” she stated, not taking her amber eyes off of the humming replicator, her perfect silken black hair spilling past her shoulders, sliding off the shimmering teal and gold of her dress.
“Yes?” Amit responded, somehow sounding more uncertain than she was about his identity. “It is an honor to meet you, Doctor Vas-“
“Symmetra,” she responded, her teal data visor lighting up with the results of some analysis as she scanned the HLR. A callsign, it would seem – just what was her role at Vishkar anymore?
“This system of yours is a remarkable achievement!” Dr. Zeigler commended with a trace of a Swiss accent, her blue eyes sparkling as she favored Amit with an encouraging smile. He could feel his knees ready to buckle as he tried to formulate a response. How was it that any of them even knew about the HLR? He had never heard Director Khanna espouse anything but skepticism of his and Deepa’s work.
As if on cue, the Director stepped forward, clearly annoyed by the lack of respect Dr. Vaswani – Symmetra – was showing him, especially when she was technically his subordinate. “I’m afraid I must temper your expectations, ladies,” he began, earning an unnoticed eyeroll from Mercy. “Mr. Kapadia has only been able to replicate the most rudimentary electronics and simple machines. It is an interesting parlor trick, but I fear It is unlikely to have any real world application-“
“Do you even read the reports I send you?” Deepa interrupted, her eyes blazing – Amit was taken aback, immediately trying to think of a way to excuse her sudden impertinence to the man who could end her career with a keystroke, but came up with nothing before she barreled on. “We have advanced well beyond those early trials! Do you honestly think Overwatch would be here if we were still just replicating toasters?”
The Director mastered himself, but only just, clearly fuming at this insubordination. Amit cleared his throat, offering a quiet, “Perhaps a demonstration of what the HLR is now capable of would be in order?”
“Yes, I should think so,” Symmetra said in a low voice, turning on her heel to face Dr. Zhou. “Mei?”
“Yes?” she responded cheerfully, looking up from one of Deepa’s aforementioned experiments, a toaster replicated in hard light. She set it back down on the teetering stack of identical copies, only to have them collapse in a noisy avalanche. “Sorry…I’m sorry!” she muttered quietly, flinching at the unending clatter.
Symmetra patiently waited for the mess to settle before stating, “Step into replicator.”
Amit blinked in confusion as to what her intentions could be, but the Director immediately cut in to underline the prototype’s limitations. “I hope you’re not thinking to make a hard-light clone of Dr. Zhou! Ethical implications aside, the HLR cannot replicate organic material-“
“I am well aware, Director,” Symmetra responded curtly, watching as Mei plodded toward the machine, her heavy boots clumping against the floor. Apart from her footsteps and the ambient hum of the lab’s electronics, Amit was certain he could hear another sound as she passed by, the faint whirring of servos…
Amit caught Deepa’s eyes across the room and saw them widen in fear at the same impossible realization. Director Khanna seemed far more focused on this latest showing of disrespect, approaching Symmetra and declaring. “Alright, I think it’s time you explained to me exactly what you are doing here. Clearly you have been misled by someone-“
Symmetra extended her prosthetic arm toward the advancing director, a shimmering wall of hard-light emanating from her palm. The hard light barrier carried the Director into the wall with tremendous force, then dissolved as his body fell limply to the floor.
“Must violence always be the solution?” Mercy sighed, pointing her staff at the director. A healing stream of biotics flowed from the device’s tip to envelop his prone form.
“Kindly ignore your personality programming for the sake of our objective?” Symmetra growled, and Mercy pulled the staff away, the golden field dissipating as Mercy gave a slight frown. Tapping on her visor, Symmetra asked, “Tracer, where are we with security? Tracer!?”
A blur zipped in through the door and suddenly Tracer’s lithe form was standing there, wearing a pixie-ish grin. “The floor is being evacuated and the security has been sorted!” she chirped in what might have been a London accent. Amit noticed a cut across her outthrust hip, a tear in her orange leggings that exposed a bundle of wiring beneath, faint sparks visible within.
“You’re not Doctor Vaswani – you’re not even human!” Deepa exclaimed, backing away in horror. “You’re omnics!”
Symmetra made a number of graceful arcs with her prosthetic arm – behind Deepa, a chair of hard light materialized into existence, catching Deepa as she fell backward. Symmetra continued her balletic movements, binding Deepa to the chair in generated bands of glowing light.
“Ready when you are!” Mei exclaimed from within the replicator, giving a cheerful thumbs-up. Symmetra turned to Amit and purred, “Kindly activate the machine.”
He stepped away from the terminal. “No.” He did not know whether the HLR in its present state could replicate something as complex as an omnic, especially one that had been convincingly modeled as a human – but if it could, such a cheap and efficient means of production falling into the hands of the machines would undoubtedly mean the end of humanity.
“Consider the consequences of your decisions, Amit,” Symmetra mused in a polite tone, a gesture from her prosthesis drawing out a cry from Deepa as the bonds of light tightened
“Amit! Don’t do it!” Deepa gasped.
He took another step away from the terminal, but felt his resolve weakening. In all likelihood, these omnics are too complex for it to work, he told himself. But if it did fail, did he expect these omnics to simply walk away?
“Amit, you must also consider what could be yours if you assist us!” Mercy exclaimed, gently resting a gloved hand upon his shoulder. “Omnic and human minds, working together – who knows what we could achieve!“ Her voice took on a playful lilt when she added, quietly, “And from the measure of your pulse, I know our bodies hold some interest to you…”
On the terminal screen, Amit noticed that his restoration to a stable build had encountered an error – the HML would still be running an experimental branch that, according to their most recent testing, would result in an explosively unstable copy. “Very well,” he said, returning to the terminal.
“Watch him,” Symmetra barked.
Mercy took up a position behind him. “I’m right beside you!” she said quietly in what in any other context would have been sweet and encouraging – but he was now aware of the micro-servos buzzing to bring her lips into that reassuring smile.
Amit activated the Hard Light Replicator, glowing blue rings sliding up and down the cylinder as the Mei-bot giggled from within. Suddenly, the machine abruptly shut down, an error diagnostic flashing across the terminal screen. “Did I do something wrong?” Mei asked. Symmetra glowered at Amit, holding her prosthetic arm out toward Deepa, fingers poised.
“This isn’t going to work!” Amit explained, pointing to the error. “She’s too complex to replicate.”
“If I understand this output correctly,” the Mercy-bot remarked, “not by much!” Amit glanced at the screen – a log line gave an estimate that she was 89% scanned when the error occurred.
“Then we’ll make this simple!” Symmetra tutted. “Mei, please discard your external cryo-apparatus.” She set down the misting gun-like accessory and shrugged off the harness with its backpack of bubbling cryo-fluid, but before she could set it down, Symmetra added, “And your clothes as well.”
In a surprising display of human verisimilitude, the Mei-bot’s cheeks blushed crimson. “Oh my gosh! N-naked!?”
“Stop letting your personality programming interfere with the mission,” Symmetra snarled.
“B-but….” Mei began, reluctantly tugging at her thick gloves.
Symmetry sighed. “Keep your underclothes if you must!” Turning to Tracer and Mercy, she added, “Both of you as well.”
“No peeking!” the Tracer-bot chirped at Amit, casually sliding the tight leggings down her slender legs. “Could you lend me a hand?” Mercy asked from behind him, the back of her form-fitting armor to him. “When I release the catch, you just need to pull!“ Amit complied, noting that if nothing else, she would at least be less protected She pressed something on her breastplate, and the back section came free, exposing a body-hugging compression shirt beneath. She seemed amused by his instinctive reaction to stare at the swell of her spandex-clad breasts, doubly so when he forced himself to turn away. “I can take it from here, thank you,” she said primly, pulling up on the tight shirt.
Amit turned to see the Mei-bot had removed her boots and leggings, and was now struggling to pull off her parka in the confined space, her round, ample backside pressing against the cylinder’s translucent siding. “Quite the figure she’s hiding under all those layers!” Tracer chirped, now standing with her hands on her hips wearing only her sports bra and panties, re-strapping her time-stabilizing harness over her shoulders. Even when she was nearly naked she was impossible to mark as an omnic – save for the sparking tear in her thigh. “Like what you see, do you?” she asked, giving him a quick twirl. “Get this HLR thing working and you could replicate a few of me to have some fun with, eh love?”
Amit tried not to ponder the seriousness of such a suggestion, instead turning back to Mei who had one arm crossed over her pale, plump breasts slung in a simple white bra, the other crossed in front of her hip-hugging boy shorts, her thick thighs pressed together in knock-kneed embarrassment. “Ready…” she said uncertainly, her face still flush.
With a hard swallow, Amit activated the HLR once more. The Mei-bot’s voluptuous body was bathed in light, bright bands tracing her round contours as she fidgeted nervously. Almost immediately, a copy of the Mei bot was being constructed form the inside out – endoskeleton, with its pistons and joints, artificial musculature and cabling, power cells, processors – all created from hard light analogues of the Mei-bot’s internal components. He also noted an expansive cooling network, its reservoirs filling out the space afforded by the bot’s abundant curves. A shell of artificial skin enveloped the human-shaped electro-mechanical systems, topped off with the sudden appearance of her bra, shorts, hair, and glasses. Not ten seconds after it had started, a hard-light duplicate stood beside the original Mei-bot, mirroring her pose with crossed arms to provide a small measure of modesty.
“Oh my gosh!” the twin Meis exclaimed together, immediately losing their self-consciousness and slowly approaching each other. The hard-light Mei was distinguished by a glossy sheen characteristic of the material, but every detail was otherwise identical – her glasses, the red-tipped hair stick holding her bun in place, every hair in that bun, perfectly copied from its source.
The Mei-bot hesitantly reached a finger toward her hard-light counterpart, asking, “May I?”
“Of course you Mei!” the hard-light Mei cheered.
The Mei-bot grinned at the obvious pun and tentatively prodded hard-light Mei’s shoulder, the surface deforming just as skin might under her light touch.
“Mercy, please examine her,” Symmetra commanded, and the Mercy bot brushed past Amit with a whisper of servos, dressed only in lacy white bra and panties. She aimed her staff and a beam of blue energy shot from its tip into the hard light Mei, who shivered and then smiled. “That feels… nice!”
“She appears to be stable,” Mercy announced, glancing at a diagnostic projected above the staff. “Amit, you should be very proud of what you have accomplished here!”
Amit’s head was spinning, reeling from the revelations of the existence of human-like omnics and that the HLR was up to the task of replicating them – but a quick glance at the terminal revealed that already the copy was beginning to destabilize. His eyes met with Deepa’s, still bound to her chair, her expression pained. Amit gave her a small nod, hoping to convey she should be ready to act.
“Go on!” the hard-light Mei exclaimed to her twin with newfound courage, thrusting out her ample cleavage. “I know you’re curious!”
“Oh... OK!” the Mei-bot said, prodding the hard-light Mei’s breast. A tremble shot through the newly minted construct, eyes clenched, biting her lip until she finally erupted in a joyous cry of, “Ó, tài bàng le!”
“That was interesting…” Mercy muttered, checking the readout on her staff.
“So soft!” the Mei bot exclaimed, reaching out again, this time cupping a breast in each hand and administering a light squeeze. “Wa! Zhēn hǎo wánr!” both Meis cheered in unison, but with a distinct stammer coming from the hard-light version.
“Stop this nonsense,” Symmetra barked. “We still have work to do!”
While both Meis ignored Symmetra’s order and continued their increasingly enthusiastic fondling, Mercy studied the staff’s diagnostic display, raising an eyebrow in concern. “Doctor Vaswani, you may want to take a look at this.”
Symmetra gave an irritated sigh and joined Mercy. From the soft pulses of light across the hard-light Mei’s semi-nude form to the faint glimpses of a wireframe like structure warping around her curves, Amit didn’t need to see the display to know she had less than a minute left.
“I f-feel amazing!” the newly made Mei gasped, pulling off her hard-light bra and flinging it deliberately toward Amit, a large cup smacking him in the face.
“You feel a-Mei-zing!” the Mei-bot panted, her fingers teasing her twin’s nipples into rigidity, a sheen of “sweat” bringing a new luster to the hard-light construct’s already glossy skin. Amit pulled the bra off his face, feeling its substance shimmer and tremble between its fingers. A moment later, the once solid hard-light fabric lost all coherence, bursting apart in a cloud of sparks and crackling energies.
“Stabilize her!” Symmetra commanded.
“I’m trying!” Mercy exclaimed, her hands quickly tuning the staff’s array of grip-controls – but signs of the hard-light Mei’s deterioration only became more pronounced, scanlines of energy rippling along her gyrating form as she encouraged her partner’s increasingly forceful massage. Her hard-light glasses tumbled from her face, bouncing off her breasts to hit the floor and explode into dissolution. Symmetra grabbed the Mei-bot and pulled her away from her now-strobing duplicate, both Meis emitting moans of protest.
“S-so m-mmmeannn!” the hard-light Mei complained, crackling tongues of energy erupting from her trembling body like tiny solar flares. Symmetra traced patterns in the air, a shield barrier beginning to coalesce around the doomed construct. Amit seized one of his first successful trials – a simple spanner made of hard-light – and hurled it at the Symmetra-bot’s prosthesis. It struck home, knocking her arm askew as the barrier fizzled into nothing. The hard-light Mei gave a final apologetic squeal of, “Bào qiàn!” and exploded in a searing flash.
The blast sent them all sprawling, Amit landing hard next to the Tracer bot who had been knocked free of her temporal stabilize. “That’s not good!” she exclaimed moments before she winked out of the time stream. As faint ghosts of her helplessly flickered around him, Amit got to his feet and tried to locate Deepa. He saw her scrambling free from the disintegrating hard-light chair, her eyes meeting his in a panic. “Run!” she cried before ducking out of the side door. He was about to cross the room to follow her, when the Mercy omnic rose to her feet with a terse, “Verdammt!” Amit turned, sprinting toward the only available exit, bursting out of the lab into the hall. “Bring him back here!” he heard Symmetra cry as he ran, the sound of footsteps and straining servos not far behind.
Amit raced to the teleporter lobby, but the room was dark, it's portals inactive. He made a start toward the security office before recalling the Tracer-bot’s casual remark that they had been “dealt with.” The implications of the phrase refocused his spiraling thoughts, and he realized his only chance to get off this floor was the stairs – just as he set off again, he was cut off by the sudden eruption of a wall of ice.
A giggle sounded behind him, and he turned to see the Mei-bot bounding down the hall wearing an ecstatic grin, her full breasts leaping with matched enthusiasm in her straining bra. He could not understand how she was manipulating ice without her cryo-equipment, until he remembered the extensive internal cryogenic machinery witnessed during her hard-light duplicate’s construction. She gestured to the floor and a sheen of ice shot out in front of her as she took a playful skip, sliding along on her bare feet in a direct collision course. He tried get out of the way, only to awkwardly slip as she slammed into him, sandwiched between the creaking frozen barrier and the soft warmth of her breasts compressing against his chest. She seized his wrists and with impish delight whispered, “Got you!”
She held him there for a few seconds, a coy smile on her petite mouth, asserting her control as she pressed closer. Behind him, he could feel the wall cracking beneath the pressure, then abruptly shattering as quickly as it had appeared, and he tumbled backward with Mei on top of him. “That was very rude, running off like that!” she chided, bringing his wrists together. He felt a sharp chill exude from her grip just before his hands were encased in a searingly cold block of ice. “Now, are you going to behave yourself?”
Amit nodded emphatically and Mei released his hands, the ice block evaporating into mist. He immediately attempted to blow life back into his shivering fingers, and Mei gave another delighted giggle, saying, “I can think of better ways to warm your hands,” as she leaned forward. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached up and took hold of her plump breasts, their soft warmth stinging his chilled hands. “Isn’t that better?” she cooed, gently lowering her hips until her thick thighs straddled his waist. She gave an exaggerated show of surprise when her shorts came to rest upon the unbidden bulge through his uniform, but pressed herself further upon him and cooed, “I don’t want to bully you into helping…” She reached behind her, unclasping her bra, gingerly lifting it over her head as heat from full-contact with her artificial flesh drove away the cold. “I want you to want to help us!”
Amit told himself this was strictly an experiment, a stalling tactic, that his priority was still to escape, and to make sure Deepa made it out OK – but he could not help but relish the feel of her breasts as he gave them a tender squeeze, soliciting a quiet moan, her hips pressing harder against his. Was this lust programmed in to her? A side effect of the ‘personality’ she had been given? While he could not know the motivations guiding her software, he did have some understanding of her hardware after seeing her replicated from the inside out – and that gave him an idea.
He slid his hands from her breasts to her hips, taking hold of her meaty backside. She groaned, rutting firmly against him, the friction wedging her shorts between the twin globes of her cheeks as Amit splayed his fingers to grip as much of her generous figure as he could. “That’s it,” she moaned, swaying on top of him, moaning in encouragement as his hands slid up to tug at the elastic of her shorts, giving no indication that she realized his thumbs were applying pressure to the access panel on her lower back.
Amit sat up suddenly, taking a breast into his lips, the Mei-bot emitting a sudden gasp. At that precise moment, he pressed firmly on the panel, feeling it sliding open. He immediately pulled at her shorts, giving her a playful spank for good measure. “Hǎo le!” she exclaimed, lifting her hips up to wriggle out of her underwear before focusing on removing his uniform’s slacks. As she positioned herself over his newly exposed manhood, he put his hands on her hips and urged her to turn. “So that’s how you like it!” she chirped, swinging her legs across his chest as she rotated, dropping her big backside directly on to his hips and plunging him inside of her, the open panel on her lower back now facing him and exposing the omnic’s mechanical interior.
“Isn’t this better?” the Mei bot moaned, sliding up and down his length as he studied her heating and coolant distribution systems, trying not to be distracted by the rhythmic rise and soft compression of her plump cheeks. He cautiously reached out, trying not to alert her to his intentions when suddenly she froze. Amit’s heart stopped, his hand suspended in front of the panel, certain he had been caught.
“Symmetra!” Mei squeaked. Amit glanced around her but saw no one, realizing she was in radio communication. “No, I got him!” She sounded almost defensive as her hips came to rest upon his, stifling a yelp as she took him deeper inside of her.
Amit quickly reached inside of her, detaching and the lines of her cooling systems while she was wholly distracted by her conversation with Symmetra. “I’m j-just making sure he’ll cooperate this time!” she insisted, whimpering slightly as she rocked on her backside. Amit closed the panel, and could already feel her ass beginning to chill. “J-just f-five more minutes,” she stammered, smoke wafting from her ears. He gave a slight pump of his hips and she moaned again, squeaking, “I have to go! I’m s-s-sorry! Bye!”
Glancing back at him over her shoulder, he could see her face was flush with heat, the smoke intensifying. He knew her systems were trying cool her CPU, but instead cycled the same increasingly heated liquid. Meanwhile, her coolant was being uselessly directed to her artificial skin, ice crystals forming along her ass and thighs. “Ooh, s-sorry about that,” she purred, her glasses slipping down her nose as her eyes became glassy. “I-is it h-hot in here?”
The artificial sweat coating her body began to freeze, covering her from the neck down in a frosty sheen as her malfunctioning systems pumped more and more re-routed coolant. Her CPU temperature climbed even higher, smoke now rushing from her mouth as her servos mindlessly pumped her up and down upon his manhood, ice shaking loose from her jiggling curves. “CPU Temperature critical!” she squeaked, steam venting from her ears. “I m-m-Mei have a problem-lemmm!” She froze, wide eyed and flushed, gasping “Oh my gosh!” before her head exploded in a shower of superheated circuitry, a flood of hot liquid coursing down her chilled voluptuous body to release clouds of steam. Amit quickly withdrew from the headless robot, hastily pulling up his pants while the sizzling omnic slumped to the floor in a widening pool of leaking fluids.
“What a mess you’ve made!” he heard an accented voice chide, and he looked up to see Mercy, still clad in her lace underwear, leveling her staff at the robotic remains.