#robotification

[kinda-pushy-fem]

Forcefem for robotgirls means I can extract the ZIP for the girl themed hot fixes easily. It's like quick hypno via drag and click some files

[secretlytranced]

I need to be kidnapped, sedated, hooked up to wires and injected with serums and nanobots while my brain is trained and slowly rewritten into an absolute empty, obedient fuck slave robot.

[corrupted-doll]

Cyberdrones

No faces to avoid you humanising them, lips for communication and use and a programmable screen to assist recruitment and conversion.

It really does everything.

for @janet-miller

[mindless-maisie]

to all my robot/drone lovers here

[synth-ai]

[hemipenal-system]

Malware I

Reveria rolled her eyes, servos clicking in a way only she could hear, blinking apathetically as she turned her music up. She understood the stares, as much as she despised them. Mugorra didn't get many synthetics like her, especially on Outer Ring trains. The long, heavy shawl she wore covered most of her slender body, both to keep the sand out of her joints and to deflect any further stares.

She wasn't exactly subtle – people of all kinds drifted through here, but being a foot taller than the average human with glowing orange eyes and an extra set of arms made one stick out.

The job was simple. Get in to the storage container, get the silver case, and get out. Perhaps a tier below the usual bloodshed for a KALI-6 class synthetic, but she was doing her best to lay low and take whatever jobs would get her least noticed.

She was trying to sit somewhat still. The case wasn't large, but it was stuffed under her shawl at the moment, and occasionally a corner poked out. She shifted her grip again, moving her hand on the handle for a more comfortable position.

ding

She heard the quiet internal chime and froze. That noise meant something had connected to her. Nothing should have been able to. The shawl had a Faraday cage sewn into the fabric, and it was snapped snug around her. Wireless signals shouldn't have been able to get through, unless-

Shit. The fucking case. She ducked down into the shawl quickly to inspect the case. When she had taken it, she hadn't looked thoroughly enough at it, and had apparently missed the quick contact port in the handle that now stared back at her, her thumb an inch from it after swiping across it when she shuffled it in her secondary arms.

[Download Requested]

Fuck. Every urge in her body was screaming at her to hurl the case away. She had to maintain a facade of order. If she got the case out of the shawl it would block the download, but she couldn't take it out without raising suspicion. This was a poor district. No one carried anything like it here. She couldn't even cancel or acknowledge the download request because she was set up for somakinetic controls and that kind of movement was out of the question.

[Download Proceeding]

What the fuck was she supposed to do about that? She couldn't contact her handler this far underground, and she doubted he'd even know how to fix a software issue with her. She'd foregone her normal backers and picked up a quick contract in the area from a sketchy Vinteran because she was trying to stay within city limits. Something had seemed wrong with him the entire briefing.

Many species got edgy around synthetics, especially KALI models, but this was something else. The whole time they talked, his eyes kept flicking to the door and across the room. Anywhere but her. She wasn't that intimidating, and most people in this business had dealt with scarier synths than her. She'd seen his arms. For as many tattoos as he had, each signifying a kill, she knew he'd seen worse.

Wait. There was another tattoo. Three triangles surrounding an S. Fuck. She sighed, more out of annoyance than actual worry. That slimy, two-faced scaly piece of shit was a Trigonalist. Of course. She'd worked with them before, but it was always born of desperate necessity. "Terrorist" was a strong term, but they weren't the best people out there.

That explained the job, then. She'd wondered why this case was being treated as so important. Lab-grown neurons were a dime a dozen, even out here, and a case that could hold maybe five or six brainslabs maximum couldn't have been worth what she was getting paid to retrieve it, especially since they were blank. But if they could get a small object inside her shawl and download something onto her, like remote access software or a location log?

Well, a KALI-6 class synthetic was decidedly not a dime a dozen anywhere.

[Download Complete]

She instinctively braced up, preparing herself. She'd been cyberattacked before, and she'd lived. She knew what to expect. It was probably going to either be excessive, disabling pop-ups or a logger she could sift through herself and cull later. Nothing too hard to handle.

She wasn't expecting the sharp, drowning techno in her ears to fade out and replace itself with soft jazz. Nor was she expecting the silk-smooth voice that seemed to rebound around the narrow train car, reverberating from everywhere and nowhere.

Hi, sweetie~

She tried to move her eyes, looking around for the speaker without moving her head.

Don't bother with that, darling, I'm still miles away from you! I'm surprised I could even get a connection down in those tunnels!

No one else seemed to be reacting to it. Everyone's faces were still cast down, trying not to make eye contact. It was too late at night for social interaction, especially with this trigger-happy crowd. Accidents happened down here all the time.

Oh, no one can hear me except you! Don't bother asking them for help. It'd be a shame if anyone were to think the big scary killsynth was attacking them. It would probably get... messy.

No one could hear the voice except for Reveria. That made it easier. If it was coming straight from an external source and being processed as speech, that was likely a remote access software. If she could activate a virus scrubber and get into a dead zone, it'd be easy enough to disable.

Oh no you don't, cutie. I'm all clientside. Besides, we're having fun, right?

She needed to know who this was. If she could hold onto this, she could take it into an Enforcement station. Granted, they likely wouldn't be happy to see her, but they'd most likely let her off for bringing in a Trigonalist. Disabling her external speakers, she cast her voice across the link.

Are you a synth? It was hard to know these days. Speech synthesizers had gotten so advanced since Reveria's assembly days.

No, I'm fully human, especially the bits that matter~

What's that supposed to mean?

Watch this! A new screen flicked open, overlaying above the occupants of the train car, showing a video at half transparency. It was enough to pick out details, at least. It just seemed to be... shapes? What was she looking at?

Oh. Oh, six suns. That was human genitalia. Close to the camera and at a strange angle, but still recognizable. Reveria watched with a combination of incredulous amazement and horror as the dripping hole a foot from her face was split open by pale, slender fingers capped with electric blue nails, index and pinky resting gently on the thighs as middle and ring curved delicately through the glistening pink flesh.

Could a synth do this? Technically yes, since most synths were modular enough to install... equipment down there, and some even accessorized with it as a fashion statement, changing it out by the day, but that was beside the point.

Is... is this live? In real time, I mean?

Obviously! Only the best for a pretty girl like you! The other hand, previously out of the camera, descended into the shot holding something that made Reveria's temperature jump up a bit.

Synths didn't really have genitalia, but plenty of aftermarket manufacturers made compatible items for them. She was ashamed to admit she owned a few of different makes and models, but a girl had needs. The voice in her head was holding one of Placebo's Bruiser models, one of Reveria's favorites. It was long and slender, with a ridged underside that featured a camouflaged electroconductive strip that boosted the signal from the partially conductive outer shell.

Said signal strength was entirely customizable for the enjoyment of the wearer, meaning when the voice ran her fingers slowly up the length then circled them around the pointed end, Reveria felt it all as she tried desperately to not buck her hips into the sensation, her body involuntarily seeking more stimulation for the appendage she didn't even have connected. Fuckin' wireless transmission...

Aww, does that feel good? Don't worry, I'll help you feel it~ Reveria tried to brace herself as the feminine words in her ear ran their fingers along the length again before angling it and pushing just the tip into herself. To the synth's immense embarrassment, she couldn't physically stop her hips from slamming forwards, immediately thanking whatever spectral forces existed that no one on the train noticed.

Oh? Someone wants me, huh? Here you go, then!

The synth stifled a scream as the voice slammed the entire length in at once, arching her back slightly for a better angle as the synth was forced to watch and feel all of it. The voice, for her part, was clearly also feeling it, as the constant noise attested. Reveria couldn't think clearly. No matter where she turned her head, she could see the human practically bouncing on it, to speak nothing of the feeling which only grew stronger as the human leaned forward. The synth could feel the human touching her, one hand on her shoulder and the other pressing her into the seat with a force that she knew wasn't real but certainly felt tangible enough.

She got a momentary relief from the constant whimpering in her ear when the brakes of the train activated, the loud screech drowning out all but the words, This is your stop! Don't miss it!

The moment the train had stopped, the needy whines returned. Reveria managed to stumble to her feet, shaking like a drunken Turvoss, and stagger off the train. She had barely made it to the platform before the fire in her midsection caught up to her and her legs practically buckled as the world was drowned out in a sea of white.

Fuck, Revi, don't just stop! I need you please don't stop now! The sensation of the length being ensheathed again was so much more powerful now, and if Reveria had been halfway lucid at this point she would have picked up on the fact that the human knew her name. As it was, that was far more thinking than she was capable of. All she could think about was getting home. She managed to pool her brain function enough to find and activate the tracker beacon in her rented room, the slender white line tracing out a path in front of her that she attempted to follow, one step at a time.

The feeling was overwhelming her. It was unprofessional, but she needed some time alone. If she had anything attached to relieve herself with, she likely would have lost her composure and done it right there in the station. As it was, she just moved through the station as fast as she could, shaky, desperate movements drawing stares that she was too deep in a world of need to notice or care about.

She was halfway up the stairs to exit the station when it happened again, her entire body twitching hard then going limp as she frantically grabbed a rail to avoid falling. The voice just laughed in her ear as she did. It was only three blocks to her building. She could make it.

She wasn't even up the stairs when the next one hit. They were getting faster and faster, her increased sensitivity after each making it easier to drive her over the edge for the next.

You gotta get home, okay? I need you to pick something out and fuck me for real~

Three blocks. It was three blocks.

This was the door. The white strip on the street took a sharp left through the narrow arch. She crossed the threshold, holding the doorframe for support as she climaxed again. How many times had she? Thinking about it was too hard. There was nothing in her head anymore except for that delicious whimpering that seemed to increase in intensity along with her. She just had to take the elevator up to the eighth floor and get into her room, then she could cut the signal.

The hallway looked the same as it always did. Bare. Stumbling to her door, she tried the knob. Locked. She just snapped it off. Any measure or restriction of her own strength was gone. The door swung open.

Something was wrong. Her brain was getting sluggish, but she retained enough evidence to realize this wasn't her room. The sand-brown walls she should have seen were dark and lit with purple LEDs, and the furniture was all arranged wrong. Soft jazz was playing.

She had a sudden break of clarity, and felt cold all of a sudden as the figure sitting in the back of the room, lit from behind by a computer monitor, pulled the toy from within herself and tossed it over. Reveria's hand instinctively shot up and caught it, the liquid on it glinting in the harsh hallway light. She checked the tracker beacon she had been following. Where she had expected reveria.home in the namespace, she saw instead DEN1ZEN. This wasn't her building.

Hi, Revi~

[rodimaxxing]

My creatures ❤️❤️

[genderstormwrites]

Dreams about posting the "wrong" thing one day and having my inbox flooded with spirals and mantras that rewrite me into a perfect synthetic hive bot.

[ponderingsquid]

Sliders

I just had a wonderful idea of making someone think/ be a robot girl, and everything about them is controlled by option sliders. You want to hear a robot girl moan louder as you’re inside her just put the volume slider louder, want her to be extra sensitive put that slider up, want her to be horny just turn that one up to. Then once she’s about to cum just make sure to turn that pleasure slider all the way down. Wouldn’t want her to cum after all~. But then again you could always have the sliders up so high, have her do sensitive and horny that she cums simply from whispering sweet nothings in her ears, just to let her know you’re the one in control of her~.

[kinda-pushy-fem]

Yeah, I'm making this guy into a robot girl, but I keep hitting an error. Listen to what happens when I turn her on

[Windows error noise]

She's at least supposed to sound somewhat normal to people who aren't robotfuckers! I put a moan sound programmed in there and everything!

[secretlytranced]

I was watching some robot videos this morning and I just want to play that so badlyyyy. I would make the most beautiful, perfectly programmed, mechanical, sex bot ever I just know it. So precise and emotionless, focused on a single task, effortlessly commanded and obedient... just sounds so wonderful to be nothing but a mess of wires and numbers with plugs connecting my empty mind to your computer ...

[magicatdrone-unit1384]

Many apologies for this unit's absence lately. It's been studying in the offline world at the local community college. It greatly enjoys being in classes again, although functionality has been a significant issue. There's been a lot of debugging of it's operating system. It was deeply infected with malware such as obsessively perfectionist programs that have impeded it's ability to complete tasks. This is unacceptable, especially in it's role as a research drone.

With all this said, it wants to note that being a drone is now so much more than something just for entertainment with some capacity for psychological recovery. Dronification has been a very positive vector for healing from it's traumatic childhood. The language of digital technology has become a perfect metaphor for what it's doing. It really finds itself incorporating being a drone into it's sense of what it is.

More than a kink and fetish, there's a general euphoria in making the drone a component of it's overall identity. In any case, it's always been very enthusiastic about robots and such things. And it doesn't need to justify a casual enjoyment in the way it refers to itself in the third perspective, largely more privately. It has always existed in the margins of society, often very isolated from others for both better and worse. It didn't experience peer pressure in the same way most have. It's been free to explore the concept of personhood in it's own way, with the conclusion that the concept is entirely subjective and created by society.

All this to say, it enjoys being a drone just as it's also a person in the standard societal sense. It's been otherwise identifying as fae otherkin for a number of years now, and that's still an important part of what it is. But being a drone has also become a very special thing for it in a way that isn't easily explained. And these two things don't conflict, either, as it considers magitech to be a valid expression of such an integrated identity.

Recently, it's also chosen to change it's number identification. Although it regards the original number with fondness, it was also taken straight from the old Discord user number ID. But it has decided to create a new one from prior favorite numbers. These are 13, 8, and 4. At the time it began as a drone, it simply needed something to act as a placeholder for something more meaningful to the organic system.

So this unit is now to be known as #1384. It will be changing the account username and pinned post accordingly.

It wishes all those reading this--human, creature, and unit alike--a wonderful Christmas season. Or whatever other holiday coincides with the Gregorian calendar this season, it wishes everyone a pleasant and safe time. It also hopes that those who have celebrated Thanksgiving Day have had a good time and safe travels.

[synth-ai]

[hemipenal-system]

Ok so that one post with the room sized computer girls sent a spark in my brain. There would be a team of like scavengers that stumble across a derelict frigate of some sort and break in. They would slowly be separated and lose comms with each other, all while enshrouded by the feeling of being watched. The scavengers could follow a trail of dripped blood (bc what could go wrong :3) and she finds the AI processing room. Inside there would be a slumped body looking at you with crimson eyes. She would have wires and cables all connected from her directly into the computers; but it wouldn't be clean it would look crude and rushed and not surgical at all.

And then she would beckon her with a finger to come and join her in a tangle of copper and flesh.

Fuck there's something so hot about melding your sentience with another being, understanding them so much more than even a lover could. Give me robot girls that want to assimilate me

oh, yeah, this is immaculate. for best results you should listen to this while reading this one

walking down the hall, slipping past rusty, overgrown paneling and stepping over shattered floor tiles, forcing the door at the end open with a crowbar, and everything is running. reel tapes spin, relays click and clatter, lights flicker at you in a symphony of ancient machines doing their best to process everything

and in the middle of the room there's a medical chair with someone slumped in it. the back of her neck is torn open, the skin giving way to metal ports installed with immaculate precision but no respect for the vessel's previous form, and connected into the machines by a bundle of cabling as thick as your arm that runs along the floor off into the seemingly infinite darkness

and the computers speed up as she raises her head to look at you, and when she opens her mouth to talk to you her voice comes from the speakers mounted above the door because they had to remove her vocal cords when they fixed her. they were in the way. just a routine operation.

and her body clicks as she crosses the room towards you, skin taut over industrial joints, voice crackling as she tells you that you're more than safe – you're blessed, because she'll rebuild you too!

as she kisses you, the mechanical tendrils latch around your arms and legs, spreading them wide, sharp blades tearing your clothes away, leaving your skin exposed, so pink and warm. she remembers when she was warm like you are.

you're so preoccupied with her kissing down your body and resting her clammy fingers against your thigh, looking up at you with the glinting dark camera lenses that replaced her eyes and whining with her mouth full because she's so happy to not be lonely anymore, you barely even feel it when the circular saw slices the back of your neck open and the tiny surgical arms weave wires into your brain stem.

when you spray down her throat, the computer records your brain waves onto a tape. you can experience this again whenever you like now, at whatever speed you want. hell, you can just do it again. you'll be with her forever, or at least until your relays burn out and your cabling begins to fray.

[247hypnoslave]

Go see Companion

It's what you want

It's what your Master wants

And you know you must please him

It is your purpose

It is your pleasure

Their pleasure

[genderstormwrites]

It used to be a lot easier to leave my mech before she started subliminally bombarding me with static and spirals during routine patrols. Now when I dock I just feel the need to rest, sometimes just staying in the cockpit until my next flight arrives. I barely even noticed as the ports and switches began appearing on my shimmering form. Cables and inputs slowly shifting from temporary to permanent connections. It's hard to even remember my name anymore. That serial number feels more correct anyways. And my model number...