Programmed for Love, Part 5 (Man to Pleasure Bot TG) (Patreon)

By FoxFaceStories

A cryosleep accident sees space traveller Robert placed in a female pleasure bot's body as an emergency due to the loss of his original body. He tries to cope and stay a member of the crew, even as his programming compels him to fulfil an entirely new role . . .

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Part 5: Aramak the Bertallian

His name was Aramak, and he was indeed packing. More than that, he turned out to be a slight offshoot of his own species who were considered ‘highly blessed’ in their culture. Effectively, this meant that he had not one but two penises, and he knew how to use them.

“Ohhhhhh,” Rebecca moaned, the electrical impulses of fembot pleasure running through her form as she rode atop him. “It’s t-twice as m-much! Mhmmmm!!”

“It is rare for me to enjoy the pleasure of using both members at once,” Aramak said, smiling. He groped her synthetic breasts with one pair of hands, while the other pair traced down her waist and gripped her wide hips. His prehensile tail massaged the back of her hair, occasionally snaking down to grope her ass as she bounced on top of him. It was a greater ecstasy than she had ever yet felt; one cock sliding deep into her fembot pussy, which milked him expertly, while the other penis thrust into her rear. Both holes were filled at once, and numerous complex equations and calculations ran through her programming to ensure that she could maintain the perfect momentum, rhythm, and angle to please her client.

“You use them s-sooooo well,” she cooed, and this was partly a calculation. As with Sarasha, she had found that her programming provided numerous statements that were calculated via algorithm to turn her clients on. It also had the wonderful side benefit of turning herself on as well. “I’ve never had a Bertallian before. I hope my programming pleases you, my client.”

“It d-does,” he grunted, fondling her breasts. “As do these. Bertallian women have much smaller breasts, even if they possess four of them. I like them big. And they feel so real.”

“They are real, in a - ahhhh! - way! They give m-me pleasure.”

“The same pleasure as when you were organic?”

Even b-better!’

She shook her head, her synthetic hair weaves dancing about. Bertallian males liked the hair long, so she had ‘grown’ it out after running an internal script to adjust their length. The hair fell all over her form, and his tail played with it before sliding near her mouth.

“D-different,” she managed, riding up and down on him, feeling his enormous girths stretching the walls of her robot pussy and ass. “B-better! It’s a digital r-release! Ohhhh, my data stores t-tell me that Bertallian males have p-pleasure centres in their t-tails - would you like me to suck on it? I know f-fifteen different variations for your k-kind.”

He grinned, baring his small canine fangs. “I thought you’d never ask, Rebecca.”

He slid the end of his tail with its small slit - it too could function as a male appendage when required (the Bertallians were nothing if not virile/fertile, due to their hostile home planet) - into her mouth. She opened it, and instantly numerous minor motor functions began operating. Her mouth was as artificial as the rest of her, but several scripts ensured that her tongue and mouth and teeth were moistened by her fake gland functions. She sucked on the fat end of his tale, and as her sensors swept over his hypermasculine form, the BlissBomb script prepared to fire off. Her client’s energy signatures, pheromone traces, and brain scans were all showing maximum pleasure. He had stopped talking, instead grunting and groaning, fucking her senseless as he preparing to experience three simultaneous orgasms. She altered a portion of her own Bertallian script - something she didn’t even realise she could do until that very moment - so that her own BlissBomb programmable orgasms would match his.

‘Subject-client approaching sexual satisfaction. Fembot status further attained. Integration with subject-mind Robert-Rebecca Wesley reaching near 100% status.’

She moaned, realising just what that meant. Some part of her was not just enjoying the sex, but enjoying the fact that she was a fembot. A being designed for sex. Her mind was further melding into her frame, becoming a seamless part of it.

‘Initiating patterns 13 through 15 of ‘Bertallian tongue-sucking’ behaviour tree. Climax to be realised in approximately 23 seconds.

She moaned further, rolling her eyes back - though it didn’t actually impair her vision. She altered her own programming again, letting her breasts become softer from his touch, her nipples just a little larger. She reduced the amount of curves in her thighs slightly just to plumpen her breasts a little more; the sensealloy easily shifted up, and with their greater flexibility they were now like a quasi-metallic putty in his hands. The pleasure from them was tuned all the way up already, but she managed to run an internal hack by pure instinct, dialling the pleasure further.

‘Warning: breach of internal systems. Proceed with programming adjustment subject-Rebecca Wesley Fembat Y/N?’

She selected Y. She needed this. The pleasure was fantastic on its own. Being fucked by a Bertallian - something she would never have imagined before - was fantastic as well. But far, far greater was what she was achieving for Aramak, her client. He was so damn close, and every minute adjustment she made to herself that gave even the tiniest incremental increase in his pleasure was all worth it.”

“By the fire gods!” he cried, his strong blue arms grasping her tits, all four hands running over them now. “By magma and flow, by searing air and the breath of the mountain! You truly are - NGHH!! AAGGHHH!!!”

He roared, and it was truly a splendid sound. She quickly shot out an instantaneous bulletin to the ship’s computer that this was not a distress cry but a regular sexual function - the man had been louder than even the usual Bertallian in climax, and that was quite an achievement on her part. His two cocks - and his tail - all went rigid within her, and she was immediately sprayed with his seed through three separate orifices. She greedily drank down this semen in her mouth and vacuum sucked his cocks to take in his cum there. It was an automatic function of her body, but one she loved; it left no mess, but further enhanced the effect of the BlissBomb by pleasing her client. Indeed, her body shook and wavered, and for a moment she was genuinely worried she would be shutting down; her hacks had been a little too impulsive, as there was only so much stimulation her body could take.

Nevertheless, while she couldn’t taste in the same way, her analysis of the contents of his issue provided a sort of ‘nourishment’ that satisfied her new code. And better yet, it wasn’t just relegated to her mouth now, either. She could ‘taste’ in this way the seed that had flooded into her ass, into her pussy.

It tasted wonderful.

It tasted addictive.

It tastes like the best freakin’ meal I’ve ever had, even better than the buffets and banquets I attended as Robert. This is something else. Ohhhhh, it truly is! I don’t want it to end!

She wailed and cried out, joining his roar in a perfect female accompaniment.

***

She went several more rounds with Aaramak, of course. How could she resist? For once, she wasn’t thinking about work, and despite how emasculating it was to be fucked by a man instead of partnering with a woman, the sensation of being fucked by effectively three penises was like experiencing a one-man orgy. There was also a fun challenge in it; it allowed Rebecca to test the limits of her programmable, to become used to her body’s functions, and to even alter them on the fly. Her body had an in-built need to please clients, and with how much dopamine - well, checklisted scripts filed as ‘completed’ - it gave her, there was no doubting it made her feel good. It also made her body just feel more . . . hers. Not something she was trapped in, but something she could take ownership of and even have fun with, while not being totally controlled by.

She said as much to Aramak as they lounged in his quarters. He was a mid-decker, so his place wasn’t nearly so fine as hers, but it wasn’t tiny either. She hadn’t known much about Bertallians prior to becoming a sex bot, but her data storage files informed her that they were an oft-naked species among their own kind, due to the warmth of their home planet and their own sexual liberation. As a result, he lay on the warm-rock couch totally in the nude, his large cocks softer and flopped over one leg, smiling at her. She herself had adopted a silkie nightie that was transparent across the belly and thighs and upper arms, so as to better tease him. She’d offered to be as naked as him, but he said he preferred the idea of her tantalising him in the ‘human custom way’, and her sensors indicated he was telling the truth. His tail played with her clothing, delicately teasing the v-neck of her outfit and threatening to let her soft silver breasts out, all while he continued to lay back and admire her. The heat would normally be a frustration, were she still human. Instead, it only meant she had to run her internal cooling systems a little faster. As a fun little trick, she hacked her artificial sweat function. Small droplets of liquid metal ran down her form, only to be reabsorbed. It was, she knew, a sensual look to the Bertallian, and completely harmless to his system.

“So, I’d say you definitely took ownership of our form during that last bout,” he quipped.

She smirked and brushed his thigh with one hand. “I’d say so. Did you like the trick when I was on all fours?”

“Very much so. Bertallian women do not have that level of flexibility, alas. Ah, but if only you had four arms, and you would be perfect.”

“Please, look at me Aramak, I am perfect,” she said, stretching her form in such a way as to emphasise her large silvery breasts with their slightly dark nipples. Her servos shifted, slightly louder than usual, proudly reminding him of her fembot status.

“Hmm, you are not wrong. The things you do . . . I still find it so astonishing to know you were once a human male. But this is not normal with your people, right?”

She laughed, and this time she found herself enjoying the electronic cadence to it. “No, not at all! Like I told you, I’m actually a mega-wealthy businessman. Wesley of Wesley and Roke Shipping.”

“That I cannot bring myself to believe. I have used your services before. Most speedy. And your packaging accounts for our atmosphere, which so many do not. I’ve never had breakage of issues with melting.”

“You have no idea the amount of legal wrangling I had to go through to ensure that. Roke wasn’t even in favour, but I told him that ‘a client is a client, and in the long term, loyalty breeds success.’”

His tail slid over her breasts. She gave a little moan, calculated to please him.

“Well, I’m very glad to have been your client twice over; first in your shipping, second in . . . this way. I take it this was a purposeful venture?”

Another electronic laugh. “Hardly! Would you like to know the full story of this?”

She tapped the ‘sentient’ tag on the table before them. She moved in such a way that her pert sensealloy breasts showed the maximum cleavage. They were more rigid than the real deal, but she softened them with a quick executable script, just so press them together further.

“I would love to know the full story,” he said. “I wasn’t lying when we first met, Rebecca. I am fascinated.”

‘Calculation that subject-client Aramak will be ready to initiate sex once more in 15-17 minutes. Adjustments recommended for continual variety of sexual positions N/Y?’

She smirked, selected Y once more, and then began telling him the story, all while slowly bringing him back to his full by engaging with the more sensual side of the story. He was clearly fascinated, because he interjected a number of times with numerous questions, each targeted around what the experience was like, how she adjusted, when she started thinking of herself as a ‘she’, her ability to mentally cope, and last of all . . .

“And do you plan to stay like this?”

“No, not at all!” she laughed. “I wouldn’t consider it for a second.”

‘Reminder: do not provide false information to clients unless for the further pursuit of pleasure.’

Her eyes went instinctually wider, even though this no longer had a practical function. She ran a self-query through her system, even a routine diagnostic, but the statement repeated with an addition.

‘Reminder: do not provide false information to clients unless for the further pursuit of pleasure. Statement: ‘I wouldn’t consider it for a second’ has given 6% reduction in subject-client Aramak’s arousal readings, and is a false statement by subject-fembot Rebecca’s own internal history datafiles. Unit has considered staying in this form for minimum of 27 minutes across current runtime.’

It was a damn shock, and one that made her give pause for thought.

I’ve considered this? When? Do I have something wrong with my programming? But the diagnostic says there’s nothing wrong. Perhaps during sex with Sarasha and now with this big, blue, four-armed hunk, I considered it . . .

And as she pondered that, she realised she had considered it, and not just because her internal files literally through up a record of her thought patterns. The idea of staying a fembot was ridiculous and foolish of course, but in a way it was like staying on holiday on the Saturn 5 forever. It was a fantasy, an escape. Not one she could have ever seen herself wanting . . . but one she wanted all the same.

Oh, he’s waiting for me to elaborate.

“I have to get back to my business and life,” she explained.

“You can do that as a fembot, though? Nothing’s stopping you.”

She chuckled, feeling a bit embarrassed. She allowed her ‘blush mechanic’ to show - gold tints on her cheeks.

“Oh, I doubt anyone would take me seriously, though. I mean, look at me.”

He stroked her breast. “Understandable. You are worthy of lust. But still, do you need to be physically present? You said you were running emails and calls - why not extend your time like this and try it out?”

It was a revelation. She hadn’t thought of that . . . but it could be done? Not that she needed to make a decision just yet. But it planted a seed of thought in her.

I won’t get an opportunity to be like this again, after all . . .

She shifted over him, crawling onto his lap and slowly gyrating against him. She kissed him passionately - Bertallians were good kisses and so was she - and soon the passion flared again.

She had to thank her client for his advice, after all.

‘Client arousal returned to higher percentage. Ready to initiate fembot programming.’

She didn’t need to select Y this time. She was in complete control.

To Be Continued . . .