Nihilistic

Part One

Surrounded by an abrupt silence, Max looked about him in disbelief, then back to the device in his hands, a rough amalgam of wires, radio parts, and a component of unknown origin. After fruitless experimentation with the device in what little personal time he had, checking and re-checking that he had followed those mysterious instructions to the letter, an idle press of its solitary button during class had finally revealed its function — it could stop time.

With a faint ‘click’, everything in the classroom, his fellow students, their history teacher, Miss Belle, all of them froze, motionless, not so much as a breath stirring them. Nervously, he pressed the button again; to his great relief, time was immediately restored. Miss Belle continuing to scratch upon the chalkboard the various names and dates that chronicled the collapse of nations that had once been The Empire’s feckless enemies, the harsh sound underscored by the faint rasp of two-dozen pencils as her students dutifully copied everything down.

Miss Belle seemed to sense his distraction and turned her imperious gaze upon him. “Max, do you have something more important to do than — what is that?”

He quickly brought the device beneath his desk, but Miss Belle was already advancing quickly, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her tone becoming increasingly stern, she repeated, “I asked you, what is-“ he thumbed the button, halting her progress mid-stride - but he noted that instead of immediately freezing, she finished her step, both feet firmly on the ground before she stopped completely.

He looked around the room again and realized the clock still ticked away seconds — outside the window, a breeze stirred through the trees hedging the Academy’s sprawling manicured grounds, grey clouds moving in the distance. It wasn’t freezing time, he realized, just the people around him. He carefully put the device on the floor, took up a pencil and a sharpener, and triggered the button with the toe of his shoe.

“-that thing you’re holding?” Miss Belle resumed, striding up to his desk. He presented his hands, and she seemed deeply troubled what she saw, her dark lashes fluttering in confusion. “I… pencil…?”

Max said nothing, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from seeing his beautiful yet unfailingly harsh instructor so bewildered. “Yes, well — this time is for taking notes, not sharpening pencils.” She pivoted and strode back to the board. “You will remain after class and prepare a stock of pencils for yourself and your classmates by sharpening my entire supply-“

He clicked the button with his toe, then leisurely stood up and walked past his frozen fellow students, humming the chorus of the Empire’s bombastic anthem to himself. Rummaging through her impeccably organized cabinet, he found her ridiculously vast stockpile of pencils and pulled every box. Thinking that he should do more than simply throw them in the class’s bin, he returned to his desk to claim the device and stepped into the hall.

You’ve got a bloody [b]time machine[/b] — or something of the sort — and you’re wasting it on pencils? He was, after all, an adult now, along with every other student at this school, all on the cusp of “graduation” — and this current use of his newfound powers seemed incredibly puerile.

“Why not the girl’s locker room?” he said with a start, and began heading toward the gym, tossing the pencils at his earliest convenience.

Moving through the dimly lit dark wood halls of the Academy, Max could not help but feel on-edge. Its many rules were strictly enforced, every student’s time tightly controlled, going back as far as his earliest memories of childhood here — if he were caught out of class, unable to explain himself, he would lose what precious free time he had, possibly meals as well.

But how would he be caught? He had stopped time, hadn’t he? As he passed by a classroom door, he cautiously glanced through the window to see students intently taking notes, untouched by the device’s effects. What sort of range did it have? Would the stoppage ‘wear off’ in Miss Belle’s classroom? As other questions about its use and limitations came to mind, he had to face the most obvious ones — what was it for? And who had wanted him to have it?

Two nights ago, Max found a folded sheet of paper and a wafer-thin component tucked into an engineering textbook. The paper was covered in impeccably written directions on how to construct some sort of transmitter, how to attach the component to the finished product. There was no hint as to what it might do or who had created the schematics or the tiny component itself, but these were not great concerns to Max. Obviously they had intended for him to have it… and in the absence of instruction, they presumably were leaving its use to his own judgment.

Arriving at the girl’s locker room, he considered that this might be a test from one of his instructors, and that ogling his female co-eds in the shower was not likely to earn him passing marks. But this was not how tests at the Academy were conducted; there was never any room for creativity, only the rote memorization and regurgitation of whatever subject they were studying. Looking at the clock, he believed that class C would be getting ready for P.E. Before he could give any real thought to the moral implications of his actions, Max hit the button on the device and stepped through the door.

The scene was less engaging that he would have thought, the tableau of students frozen in their underwear far more clinical than titillating. Girls he had known throughout his years at the Academy were in various stages of undress — but they all seemed so… inert. All of them staring blankly forward, methodically getting out of their uniforms and into their gym clothes. He supposed it was silly to think he would find a private show full of girls in pin-up poses, but this…

Following the sound of running water, he rounded a corner and immediately forgot to breathe. There stood the surpassingly lovely Megan, frozen in the steaming shower. Shining rivulets ran over her statue-still body, tributaries collecting in streams that flowed over her pert curves — she would not have looked out of place as the marble centerpiece in a fountain of frolicking naiads. She held her golden hair back with both hands, facing the stream, her lips slightly parted, water overflowing from her mouth…

Upon registering that last detail, Max rushed to her in a panic — were her lungs flooded with water!? When he unfroze her, would she drown? Was she drowning already? He grabbed her beneath her raised arms and pulled her free of the shower, finding her heavier than anticipated — his foot slipped on the wet tile, and he dropped her before falling himself on to the hard floor.

There was a sharp pain in his tailbone, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Megan had fallen on her side, still locked in that nymphean pose — she seemed unharmed, except her face was… askew. As if it were a mask on crooked, only partially concealing something beneath, something silver and glinting. Max leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in this ‘gap’ between her face and her head. Was that… machinery?

A sudden bright burst of electricity flared from her temple as her blue eyes snapped open, staring directly at him — Max gave a startled cry, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the locker room, halfway back to his classroom before he managed to stop himself. He realized his device was not stopping time it all — it was an on / off switch for robots. Oh, and by the way, just one more tidbit — everyone he had known his entire life was apparently a machine.

He wondered if he ought to be outraged or upset or if he was simply going insane — for in truth, he felt none of these things at all, but rather, a powerful curiosity. In a lot of ways, the Academy made more sense to him now that before he knew he was surrounded by robots. Of course his classmates could effortlessly breeze through subjects that seemed designed specifically for his torment: they were just following programming, he actually had to learn this stuff. But why? For whose benefit? Why go through all this trouble?

Max tried to think if there was anyone he might suspect was human. There was the nebulous headmaster, the authority he had never actually seen, who seemed to exist more as a vengeful deity than an actual person. Perhaps the transfer student, Maya Green, his former girlfriend and partner in crime, right up until her expulsion.

He had found her so unlike everyone else in this place, spontaneous, willing to take risks… affectionate! But he had to consider that she had been a robot too, one programmed to serve as a cautionary tale instead of another perfect student to emulate. If so, it had worked, hadn’t it? When they were both caught committing the grave offense of trying to escape the school grounds, Maya had pleaded desperately to the Disciplinarian on his behalf, tears streaming down her pretty, freckled face from those dark, almond-shaped eyes. She claimed it had all been her idea, that she had pressured Max into it, refuting Max’s insistence that he was the one behind it all. In the end, she was expelled while he was allowed to remain — and before she left, never to be seen again, Maya drew from him a promise her that he would not squander her sacrifice, that he would stay out of trouble, if only for her sake. A promise he had kept, to this day.

To hell with it, he decided. Now it’s time to play.

Max returned to the frozen diorama of his classroom, carefully scrutinizing Miss Belle and his fellow classmates. Even knowing they were all machines, he just couldn’t see it. He went in for a closer look at Miss Belle, her soft brown eyes staring straight ahead, her red lips parted mid-syllable, her mahogany hair in a bun wound almost as tightly as she was — but no matter how closely he looked or where he touched her cold, satin skin, he could not discern where her face might ‘detach’ in the way Megan’s had.

He idly undid the buttons on her blouse and parted the white fabric — beneath he saw the creamy hemispheres of her bountiful chest, cupped in a floral print bra, frilled in lace — but all of it unmistakably human. A thought struck Max, and he pulled off her blouse completely, then returned to his desk and activated the transmitter. Miss Belle continued right where she had left off, discussing his punishment, “-so that no one else will need to spend time fiddling at their desk instead of taking notes. Now then…” Miss Belle picked up the chalk and resumed her lecture, apparently oblivious of her missing apparel. He glanced at his fellow classmates, noticing brief flashes of confusion on their faces of each as they looked up to see far more of their teacher than they were accustomed — and just as quickly, every one of them seemed to accept the situation and resume their note-taking.

Max froze the room again and approached Miss Belle, unfastening the grey tweed pencil skirt that hugged her hips and offered tantalizing glimpses to the exquisite form of her round backside. Sliding the skirt down, he carefully took her ankle and lifted — she cooperated, balancing on one foot, then the other as he stepped her out of the grey fabric. Her matching floral panties were a snug fit against her pale, perfect rump, and he gave her cheek an appraising squeeze — her soft skin was initially cold to the touch, but warmed under his caress, pink blossoming beneath the smooth, fair surface. Not wanting to get carried away, he hastily disposed of the skirt and returned to his desk, activating the device once more.

Just as before, she continued her lecture in her underwear, her forceful gestures at the chalkboard sending delightful tremors through her voluptuous form. His classmates had additional difficulty when they noticed their instructor’s new state of undress, and not all of them recovered. To his immediate right, Grace (programmed, as near as he could tell, to be a condescending know-all) seemed to be having particular trouble. Her cute head wobbled strangely upon her neck, her typically-smug expression now screwed-up in confusion.

Max leaned close to her and whispered, “Where did her skirt go?”

Her hazel eyes darted between him and their teacher, her head-tremors worsening. “M-M-Miss Belle,” Grace stammered, ineffectually brushing aside the auburn bangs that kept falling across her eyes as her head shook. “I-I-IIIIIII fffffeeeelllll… funnyyyyy…” She took on a digitized tremulo whenever her voice caught on a vowel, her pink her lips not quite synchronized with her words.

The teacher turned and looked at her favorite pupil with distaste. “Well, go to the nurse!” Surveying the rest of the class and evidently seeing something she did not like in her students, she asked, “What is going on with all of you?”

“We’re all just wondering why you’re in your underwear,” Max said calmly. A few barks of artificial laughter sounded from the class, but were sharply cut off by Miss Belle’s glower. He noticed ticks spreading across the room while Grice rose, moving stiffly yet quickly toward the door.

Miss Belle glanced down at herself and gasped in surprise, backing against the wall while doing her best to cover her immodesty with her hands. “I d-d-do not understannnnnd-“ she groaned, looking about helplessly. A moment later her head snapped sharply forward and she straightened, relaxing her arms at her sides, crisply announcing, “Class dismissed.”

The students rose, some with great difficulty, colliding with one another in their awkward shuffle out the door. A few annoyed remarks of, “Watch where you’re going,” or “Excuse you,” could be heard, but they were all delivered in flat, impersonal tones. With the last of them gone, Miss Belle sat at her desk, staring blankly ahead.

In the ludicrously prolonged silence that followed, Max couldn’t help but crack a smile. Finally, he prompted her with, “Miss Belle, am I dismissed?” he said.

“You have quite a bit of sharpening to do,” she proclaimed, suddenly animate as she strode to the supply cabinet, opening the drawer that had held the pencils — she stared blankly at the empty space for several moments, before wordlessly pushing it shut.

“Trouble, Miss Belle?” Max asked, casually approaching her.

“That is not your concern,” she said flatly. “And you are still to be reprimanded for your disruptive behavior. You… you will… you…”

“I have an idea or two,” he said with a smirk.

“And I’ll have no more of this cheek from you!” she insisted her elegant features narrowing in suspicion.

Max hit the button and once more she froze, her cross expression preserved. ”Miss Belle, you’re so tense!” he exclaimed. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Sliding his hand into the cup of her bra, he fondled the softness beneath, feeling a spreading warmth, her nipple hardening visibly even through the padded cup. “Better already!” he remarked, then slipped his hand down the front of her panties, gliding through the tuft of hair, fingers caressing and then moving within her chilled labia — in an instant, he could feel heat coming from her, her face suddenly flush with a rosy glow. He withdrew his hand and unfroze her.

“<Hahhhhh!>” she gasped, chest heaving, one of her hands taking hold of the breast he had just released, the other cupping lightly over her groin. She held it there, trembling, before a finger shyly pressed in against the fabric of her panties, soliciting another gasp. Max approached put his arms around her, taking hold of her rump, reacquainting himself with her familiar softness with a tender squeeze.

She stared at him in stunned surprise, her red lips gaping as she struggled to find her voice. Suddenly, her head snapped rigidly into place, her expression resetting to its customary haughtiness as she said, “Come with me.”

She broke from him and walked stiffly to her desk, then turned to face him, stating, “Take off your uniform.”

“If you insist,” Max said with an exaggerated sigh, and was soon naked before her.

“Now, remove my undergarments.”

He slid her panties down her shapely legs, taking the opportunity to retrace those elegant lines with his fingertips as he stood. She ignored this bit of foreplay, spun on her heel, and bent over her desk, brazenly presenting her porcelain white derriere and still-flushed sex. “Make love to me,” she demanded airily. “If you are able to perform to even the most modest of standards, we shall consider your punishment served.”

With another forced sigh, Max entered her slowly, her body tensing at the introduction. He took hold of her cool, white hips, rapidly bringing her to warmth and color as her cushioned backside compressed against him.

“I… would have… expected more from you,” she announced between quiet grunts, casually undoing her bun and shaking her lustrous mahogany hair loose over her pale shoulders, then resting once more on her forearms. “You do realize… you’re attempting to… pleasure me, correct?”

Noting her physical response was far more reserved now than when she was frozen, Max leaned over and hit the device, her body abruptly stiffening. He gave her a few quick thrusts, her body reacting vigorously to every push with a rush of warmth and fluid, her smooth skin soon coated in a sheen of sweat. When he unfroze her, her legs buckled as she wailed in ecstasy, trying to stifle her cries with the back of her hand. Her body succumbed to a series of convulsions, and for the first time since he discovered what she truly was, she betrayed something of her mechanical nature beyond freezing — a high-pitched mechanical squeal from inside her chest.

“Well…” she panted, pausing as another shiver passed through her, the squeal quieting. “I suppose that will have to do. If you’re done, that will be all.”

“I’d rather not leave you wanting, Miss Belle,” Max said, casually massaging her sweat-soaked posterior.

“And as per usual,” she said, her voice with its trademark condescension, “your abilities fall well short of your ambitions.”

With a chuckle, Max said, “I’m going to enjoy this,” and tapped the device, freezing her mid-sigh.

After a series of thrusts brought her back up to a feverish temperature, he withdrew and rolled her on to her back, manually coaxing her legs down from her ‘standing’ position amidst the protest of whining servos. He pulled off her bra, her impressive breasts jostling lose, his hands massaging them as he entered her once more. Her face remained frozen mid eye-roll, but as he glided in and out of her, his hands fondling her chest, he saw tremors beneath the surface of her wet skin, her lips quavering, her eyelashes developing minute ticks. He leaned in to kiss her red lips, feeling them quiver in response as the mechanical squeal from her first orgasm returned, now accompanied by a strange buzzing. Despite her immobility, her face was slowly shifting from indifference to rapt ecstasy, her sex radiating heat, her body glistening.

He pulled out of her and re-oriented himself, sliding a cock awash in her fluids into her mouth, bringing his lips to her simmering sex. He devoured her pussy, his hands gripped tight against her pillowy thighs as her mouth slowly trembled to a close around his manhood. He began feel a faint electrical flicker across his tongue as he serviced her, and the mechanical sounds of her internal machinery went from a mere curiosity to a distressing series of pops and bangs. When he dismounted her, Max saw areas of her shapely body glowing incandescent, a burning smell filling the air as dozens of tiny tremors ran through her form.

“Satisfied, Miss Belle?” Max asked, hitting the device.

Her response was closer to a siren than any human voice, an ear-splitting wail as her back arched, her arms flailing uselessly, the mechanical cacophony inside of her reaching a shrieking crescendo. There was some internal detonation and Miss Belle tumbled from her desk, her smoldering body landing at Max’s feet, charred machinery visible through her damaged frame.

“C-c-class disssmisssszzzzzz<bzzzzt>” she moaned, twitching with the odd electrical burst.

“Hello, Max,” he heard a cheery voice call from the doorway. Glancing up from his damaged teacher, he saw Megan in disarray — her shirt buttons misaligned, her tie simply hanging in a loop over her shoulders, her skirt pulled indecently high, and without one of her socks — at least her face was no longer crooked.

“Hello there, Megan,” Max said, pulling on his trousers. “What brings you around?”

“I think we should see headmast-t-ter,” she said with a coy smile, a finger tangling in her damp golden hair.

“The headmaster?” He only knew him by title and reputation, but presumably the head of the Academy would have answers as to why someone saw fit to throw him in a school full of robots. “Well, why not?” Looking down, he asked, “Miss Belle, are we finished?” She buzzed before emitting an electrical pop. “Very well, Megan,” he remarked, adjusting his tie, “to the headmaster.”

Part Two

Max made a sweeping gesture with his arm and bid Megan a polite, “After you.” The haphazardly dressed schoolgirl smiled and set off to the Headmaster’s office unsteadily, the smooth motion of her tawny legs interrupted by a twitch or stutter that would lead her to stumble, pause for a few seconds in recovery, and then resume walking as if nothing had happened, only to repeat the process. While he was in no great hurry, Max found the uneven progress frustrating, and at the next one of her pauses, he slid his arm around her. When she hesitated, Max, encouraged her forward with a swat on the back of her skirt.

The unconscionably fresh gesture from a classmate who barely knew her only solicited a confused, “I… oh. I… ah,” from the robotic schoolgirl before she was walking again, stiffly leaning on Max whenever her legs suffered their occasional glitch.

“What can you tell me about the headmaster?” Max asked.

“I’ve neeevvvvver met him,” she answered blithely, her voice developing a metallic echo for a moment.

“Well…. what made you think we needed to see him?”

“Ummmmm…” she seemed as though she were on the cusp of answering, but as they walked she kept silent, wearing a pleasant but vapid expression, eyes blinking at too-regular intervals.

“Calling Megan? Hello?” He slid his hand under her skirt, not entirely surprised she had neglected to put on panties. “Anyone in there?” He gave her a firm squeeze, but she only blinked once more.

“I do not believe this!” the sudden shriek pulled Max’s attention from Megan’s blank staring, and he looked up to see the willowy form of his Literature teacher, Miss Wright, fast approaching. She was tall but petite, with onyx hair hanging in a perfect vertical line to her narrow shoulders, brought to a minute but precise swaying by her small, scissoring steps. The offense she took was plain across her pretty, angular features, her green eyes flashing behind her sleight, rimless frames. “Disentangle yourselves from each-“ she froze when Max thumbed the button, but he was surprised to see Megan did not.

“I… dunno?” Megan offered, unprompted.

“That’s something new,” he observed, then asked, “Want to have some fun with Miss Wright?”

“I would p-prefer we find the headmaster…” she mewled weakly, giving his arm a tug.

“Soon enough!” He spun her into Ms. Wright’s frozen body — as the two reeled slightly from the impact, Max took hold of Miss Wright’s hand and pressed it against Megan’s bare bottom.

Megan’s face took on a quizzical look as Max hopped away, thumbing the device.

“-other this instant!” Wright barked, then stared in silence at where her hand disappeared under her student’s skirt. “What?!” she gasped, recoiling as if from a hot stove.

Max froze her again, positioning the Miss Wright’s other hand on Megan’s pert rump while Megan still looked confused.

“Just bear with me, Megan,” Max stated, hitting the button again.

“What is… what am… what-” Wright’s jerked her hand free once more, her breathing labored and heavy, and Max repeated the process.

“Miss Wright is acting peculiar,” Megan said as her cheek was gripped once more by Wright’s delicate fingers under Max’s guidance. “S-she should see Nurse Green!”

The mention of the Academy’s voluptuous, raven-haired health administrator stirred several thoughts in Max, and he proclaimed, “I think we ourselves might pay her a visit — Miss Wright, however, will be better served by our custodian.” He activated the device and Miss Wright haltingly withdrew her hand, jittering, eyes blinking unevenly.

Max began unbuttoning Miss Wright’s vest as she watched in open-mouthed disbelief, but despite being animate, did nothing to stop him.

“There once was a teacher named Wright” he slowly began.

“W-w-what iis thiissss?” she demanded.

“Whose only real motive was spite,” he continued, opening the vest, taking less care with her blouse to keep up the rhythm of his improvised poem.

“M-m-max, do you w-wish t-to b-b-be expelllllled?” she gasped, but was drawing in deep breaths, her lithe body swaying wantonly back and forth, her tense fingers shredding the last few buttonholes of her blouse before shedding it completely.

“Max tickled her tits…”

“Yes?” she gasped, clawing off her modest silk bra, her delicate pink-tipped bosom exposed. Max hit the button and did as promised in verse, his tongue and hands quickening her nipples as heat spread through her, his fondling without pause until she was glowing with a liquid sheen, a sound coming from her like a bandsaw going through sheet metal. He cleared his throat, took Megan’s hand, and stepped back before pressing the button.

“And she flew into bits…”

“TH-THIS UUUUUNIT IIIISSSSS-!” she cried before her abdomen detonated in a flash, nothing more than wires and charred, twisting metal holding the upper and lower halves of her slender form together as she toppled to the ground in a cloud of white smoke.

“And it wasn’t a pretty sight.” Max paused, wrinkling his nose at his failed metric - Miss Wright would never have approved.

“The Headmaster, yes?” Megan insisted, unfazed by the spectacle. “H-he can make sense out of all of th-thisss!”

“It should be fun to watch him try,” Max said with grin, and together they resumed their trip.

One of the classroom doors behind him flung open, and he heard the rumbling voice of their chemistry teacher shout, “What the devil is going-“ Without looking back, Max hit the button, growing ever-fonder of his device in the ensuing silence.

---

There was queue leading out of the nurse’s office comprised entirely of the students from Miss Belle’s history lesson. A few idly conversed about things not in any way related to any odd developments in Miss Belle’s room, but many sat at queer angles or just stood facing in a random direction, staring blankly. Man and Megan bypassed the line and opened the door to find Nurse Green already tending to a very flustered Grace.

The nurse’s unmistakable silhouette was framed against the shuttered window, those oft-thought-of curves unsuppressed in her austere yet fitted slate dress and white apron tied in a neat bow about her slender waist. She hastily cast a sheet over the body of her yammering student, who was saying something about “missing time”.

“Max, I think you ought to see the Headmaster at once,” Nurse Green politely insisted, her soft red lips forming each syllable neatly. Her pale blue eyes watched him closely, framed by an alluring wave of dark hair.

“Megan and I were just on our way,” he replied, “but I thought you might take a look at her — she had a bit of an accident in the shower and her faceplate popped off.”

Grace sat up, mouth gaping the sheet falling from her. Her shirt was held up above her midriff by a protruding cable that disappeared behind the table. Nurse Green, however, only continued to watch him coolly.

“Obviously she was able to reattach it,” Max continued, “but she’s been acting strange ever since. I thought you might take a look, see if you can-“

“He knows?” Grace exclaimed, head shaking. “Will there even be a graduation?!”

“Quiet, Grace,” Nurse Green stated calmly, her eyes never leaving Max.

“What is this going to do to the map? How did this even happen? Isn’t the maintenance of the student body your responsibility, Nurse Green? These malfunctions-“

For a brief moment, the nurse diverted her attention to a cart where she withdrew a syringe of dark liquid that twinkled with sharp points of light. Roughly pulling up Grace’s skirt, Nurse Green injected the contents into the student’s pale, bared hip and disposed of the empty syringe with a light toss before turning back to Max, the incident over in seconds.

“Quiet, Grace”, Nurse Green repeated, and this time her patient complied with a mute nod, sinking back to the table.

“And… I’ve got a few questions of my own,” Max added, unnerved by her scrutiny and that sudden display of speed, trying to casually slip his hand into his pocket where the device rested.

“The Headmast-t-errr,” Megan weakly interjected, ignored by them both.

“I imagine you must,” she said, her eyes plainly following Max’s movements. He stopped.

“Alright… am I the only human here?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Alright… fair enough… I was expecting a bit more evasion from you… OK. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why am I a human in a boarding school full of robots?”

“Max, trust my experience on the matter when I tell you that you are better off not knowing.”

“Now there’s the evasion I was expecting!”

“This must have been very hard on you,” she said, her face in a sympathetic pout.

Max shrugged, “Actually… no.”

“What if I told you I could make this just a bad dream,” she promised, leaning toward him, her left arm in her lap as her bicep displaced the soft silhouette of her chest. He almost didn’t notice that her right hand strayed by the cart to collect a syringe of clear liquid. “Or perhaps a very good one… but you can wake from it tomorrow and find everything back to how it was-”

He jabbed the button with an exultant, “Fuck th-“ his words cut off when at the same instant the Nurse lunged. He flinched, eyes clenching shut — but despite the seemingly inevitable sting of the needle, it never came. He opened his eyes and saw her frozen, the syringe millimeters from his neck. He looked at Megan, who only inclined her heard toward the door with a plaintive expression.

“We’ll have no more of that,” Max declared, pulling the syringe from Nurse Green’s fingers. He went to her cart and found another syringe of the dark, glittering liquid. He hiked her dress up over her magnificently presented posterior, cradled lovingly in red panties whose seams pinched invitingly into that plush expanse. “This should settle you down,” he said, driving the needle into her artificial ass and pumping her full of… whatever this stuff was.

“Now then,” he said, putting the table on which Grace lay frozen between them before hitting the button, “Would you describe your current mood as ‘stabby’, Nurse Green?”

She slowly rose from her half-lunge, pivoting to face Max with a blank expression on her face. “I would describe myself as compliant.”

“Wonderful! OK, let’s try again — why am I here?”

Nurse Green simply stared at him blankly.

“Nurse Green? Hello?”

“Hello.” She responded without emotion.

“Nurse Green, tell me why I am here.”

But she only stared.

Max tensely ran his hands through his hair and gnashed his teeth, growling, “Why do you have to be so difficult?!”

The three fembots all stared at him, though Megan brightly offered, “If you have questions, the Headmassszzzter is the one most equipped to answerrrrr them!”

“Fine, you know what? Perhaps Nurse Green was right. Perhaps I don’t need to know why I’m here.” He started removing his uniform. “Besides, who needs answers when you can just have a robot orgy, eh?”

Noting a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he added, “Could you all maybe liven up a bit?” Megan smiled absently, the others remained unchanged.

“Megan, would you like to start things off by going down on Grace?”

“Max, we really ought to-“

“Grace, would you start things off by going down on Megan?”

“Of course.” The mousy student slid from the table, trailing her cord while Megan shifted in a fitful dance. Their diminutive classmate dropped to her stockinged knees and reached up under Megan’s skirt, pulling the uncertain fembot’s hips to meet her upturned face.

“We… we could always come ba-<hahhhh>!” Megan cried, her body slumping against Grace in a peal of pleasure. He noted Grace was also affected, her knees starting to sway from their rigid right angles, her parallel feet with the tips of her black shoes evenly on the floor now trembling, splaying apart as muffled moans could be heard from beneath Megan’s rustling skirt.

“Lovely! And Nurse Green, if you be so kind as to favor me with a good fucking?”

After a few seconds, the nurse moved into action, efficiently removing her apron with one hand while the other methodically ran through the buttons of her dress, discarding both articles on either side of her when she arrived before him, her red undergarments cinching around her luscious curves.

He laid himself on the examination table and exclaimed, “Nurse, I’ve been having this rather painful problem that won’t seem to go away on its own!”

She stopped, asking, “Are you looking for a diagnosis or sex?”

“Apparently I need to jumpstart the foreplay,” he mumbled, reaching from the table to slap the device’s button.

“Oh… why did you stop?!” Megan protested, shaking the suddenly inert Grace in frustration.

“It’s only for a moment, Meg,” he offered, briefly but vigorously working Nurse Green’s breasts with both hands, doing the same to her backside, noting the expected increase in temperature and perspiration. “Right — another go!” he slapped the button.

Nurse Green’s body shook with desperate, panting breaths as she hugged herself, breasts heaving — but it was Grace’s sudden shrill squeal that demanded his attention, and he saw that Megan had managed to slip under her partner and was now in process of repaying her for her services. She caught Max looking at her, sweat dripping from her upturned nose, and she gasped, “Mind your own work!”

Encouraged by this display of personality, he turned to Nurse Green, who was still breathing deeply, and said, “Nurse Green, I’ve been having this-”

“Let’s take a look at you,” she said with a smile, a soft hand sliding up his thigh to seize upon his rigid cock. “Tell me, does this feel any better?” She worked him with slow, deliberate motions as Grace and Megan continued their boisterous activity unabated.

“Better…”

She slid off her panties, calmly explaining, “I’d like to check your vitals.”

“By all means,” Max grinned, putting his hands behind his head.

She straddled Max with those creamy thighs, guiding him into her velvet interior with a soft sigh. She glided up and down his length in gentle motions, breathily delivering his diagnosis. “Your temperature is thirty-seven, blood pressure one-sixty over eighty — elevated, but expected under the circumstances.”

“Go on,” Max encouraged, his fingers sinking into her haunches as he kneaded her tender, unrelenting hips.

“Your cholesterol is well within the range of-“

“And you were doing so well!” Max sighed. “Meg, we’re taking another time out!”

“OK!”

Grace’s protests were cut off by whatever signal the device was transmitting. Max ran his hands across Nurse Green’s lavish body, hips pumping her until she dripped with sweat and heat, her machinery chittering unevenly. He thumbed the button and she reanimated with teeth-rattling squeal of delight, her once-gentle hips now pistons in furious engine, her frantically bouncing breasts finding brief purchase in her hands, then his, then his face. Everything became a kinetic blur as his lips and tongue, fingers, his cock, all plied every piece of her soft, churning body while her internal machinery squealed on in its fevered state, strengthening her seemingly limitless climax as the pitch of her rising cry broke human limits to rattle glass and set his hairs on end. His body tensed as he tried to stave off his own climax, but he felt release burst from him in a euphoric wave. As he throbbed inside her, she began to seize up, servos straining in resistance to his tightening grip before she finally collapse atop him, internal components her still revving tirelessly as her body faltered with his.

“Is this… what you want?” she whispered hotly into his ear, her voice buzzing with electricity, her sex drawing new life from his recovering manhood as he felt her walls pulse in time to some new humming within her body.

“Every… day… of the week!” he panted

“Then let me put things back how they were,” she cooed, “and-“

He was already reaching for the device when he interrupted her. “I gave you obedience juice so you’d stop talking about-“ he felt a pinch in his hip and he flailed outward, slapping the device with his entire hand and sending it crashing to the ground. Glancing at his hip, he saw she was frozen in the process of injecting him with that clear liquid. He tore the syringe free, growling, “Nurse Green, you are in very serious trouble, missy!” He propped her upright where she sat, unmoving on his half-firm member, a seductive smile on her lips with her eyes suspiciously cast down. “Wulllyooooo…” he realized he wasn’t really sure what words had been trying to speak, and as he attempted to shove her from him, he found his arms could only limply push against her body as the room spun in a warm haze.

He ran his hands over her ample curves contentedly, noting the wealth of humming, grinding, and buzzing sounds this elicited from her. A magnetic droning from elsewhere in the room drew his attention, and he saw the frozen Grace was still on her hands with her legs spread, being enthusiastically serviced by Megan — however, her head looked like someone had turned on a bulb inside of it, the rapt expression across her mousy features hard to read against the peach-colored light shining from within.

“Oommmeg….” he slurred to the tawny blonde who lapped away at her classmate’s pussy while forcing Grace’s rigid hands to resume the rough pawing of her healthy breasts. Meg either did not hear or chose not to heed Max’s warning, and a few bright spires of electricity buzzed angrily from Grace’s open mouth before her entire face suddenly caught fire, flaring hotly for a brief moment before a concussive blast from inside her head extinguished the blaze as quickly as it started.

“Meguuyoooollllll,” Max instructed, but his erstwhile escort remained beneath her broken partner’s skirt. Giving up trying to influence her, he turned his attention back to the still-looming Nurse Green. Mustering a bit more control, he took his right hand, whose palm had been brushing up and down along the plush curve of her rump, and plugged her ass with his finger. Her head shined with peach-colored light; when he focused his will and gave a slight pump of his hips, she jostled, glowing brighter.

“I have not failed this school,” a voice with a distinct metallic echo buzzed from inside of Nurse Green, who remained motionless. “You have.”

Without a working tongue, he just gave her another thrust, her face brighter still.

“Your lack of patience and self-discipline,” she continued, quicker now, “means that whatever meager <unnnngh> pleasures you are able to wring from the little time you have left here will be nothing comp-<ahhh>-ared to what <ohhh> you could have had if… <ahhhhhh!> If you would only- <OHHHHHohhhhhhh>” A burst of hissing, sizzling blue flame consumed her features, her last orgasmic cry melting into a deep register of digitized noise before getting cut off with a sudden bang. Staring down at him, Nurse Green’s face was an unrecognizable fusion of burnt machinery and charred circuitry streaming columns of smoke. Another blast from her midsection did him the courtesy of knocking her off of him. As she crashed into a smoldering jumble beside the table, Max flopped his legs over the side of the table, strenuously pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Megu,” he slurred to his escort, to no avail. Refocusing, he managed a distinct, “Megan!”

She popped her head out from under Grace’s skirt, her face and Grace’s thighs spattered in numerous fluids, oils, and some bright blue substance. “Yes, Max?”

“Hllp… trusrsss…” he groaned, gesturing limply at his legs.

“Did you want to g-g-go to the Headmaster now?”

He nodded with the assistance of his wavering torso. “Yss.”

Pushing the half-burnt ruin of Grace off of her, she quickly stood up. “You don’t look very well,” she frowned. “Perhaps N-nurse Green…” she looked at the contorted tangle of the Nurse’s faceless shell and then said, “Or…” and was left staring blankly at the ground.

“Trou… sers…” he tried again.

She sprang forward, but instead of retrieving him his clothes, she grabbed another syringe from the cabinet. “Nnononnnnonnn!” he protested, falling off the table in his attempt to escape, but Megan easily stuck him. He felt a sudden surge of energy as strength returned to his limbs. He sprang up and hugged his hapless companion tightly, kissing her firmly on her fluid-stained lips and parting with an excited, “Megan, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

She smiled brightly as one of her eyes ticked to the side.

Max pulled on his clothes, recovered the device, grabbed one of those ‘compliance’ syringes filled with glittering fluid, and lead Megan out into the hall where the students from Miss Belle’s history class were frozen in place, several exchanging odd glances or looking with suspicion toward the door.

As Megan braced herself against him and urged them both toward the Headmaster’s office, Max began to consider what other interesting detours they mind seek out.

Part Three

“Maybe we should find Chloe from physics class,” Max wondered aloud while walking down the empty Academy hall beside the damaged and stained (but still upright) Megan. “I always thought she might have a crush on me… or, I suppose, was programmed to have a crush on me…” His fembot companion made no comment.

“You know, despite her screeching, I’ve always had a thing for Miss Buckley,” Max continued, thinking of the maths teacher. Whenever her lessons involved calculations along curved surfaces he would lapse into vivid daydreams, inevitably brought to an end by her shrieking at him to pay attention. “I imagine she’s a wailing banshee in the sack…” Megan’s gaze remained fixed forward, though her left eye would sometimes flutter to one side, amidst tiny mechanical sounds.

“Oh!” Max suddenly exclaimed, “I just realized that the swim team has their practice right now!”

“Max, our priority isszzzzz the Headmaster,” Megan gently reminded him.

“Perhaps the girl’s swim team (in all of their perfectly toned, swimsuit-clad glory) will still be an option for me after I speak to the Headmaster,” he said in a serious tone, “but I cannot leave such a thing to chance.”

“Sorry, Max,” called an unapologetic voice from behind him, “but you’ve kept the Headmaster waiting long enough.”

Max turned and sighed. “Oh. You two.”

The Academy’s two prefects, Lucy and Jacob, were fast approaching. As with so much else since his revelation, their inhuman physical and academic perfection was suddenly well accounted for. Since they were just machines, it would have been easy to give them the bodies of an Adonis and an Aphrodite, easy to pre-load electronic minds with the course material he had to study for, and easy to power their seeming limitless drive and energy with batteries. Perhaps they were meant to serve as exemplars, given the way the students and faculty fawned over them, but he saw their accomplishments in a far more skeptical light.

“Mmmm… no, I think I’d prefer the swim team,” Max announced, continuing to steer Megan toward the Academy’s pool. A hand with a startlingly firm grip fell upon his shoulder.

“You’re not listening, Max,” Jacob muttered with a trace of annoyance through his straight and gleaming machine-tooled teeth. “The Headmaster-“

“Jacob,” Max interrupted, “You seem… tense. Does he seem tense to you, Megan?”

His deteriorating fembot companion emitted a noncommittal, warbling buzz.

“Enough stalling,” Jacob growled, his square jaw clenched, “If you won’t cooperate willingly-“

“Megan,” Max winced as Jacob’s hands tightened painfully on his shoulder, “I think Jacob needs his cock sucked.” The pressure from Jacob’s hand stopped as the student robot glanced at the approaching and apparently compliant Megan.

“You what?” Jacob managed as Megan brushed Max aside and knelt down, her hands deftly working at the male prefect’s trousers. Jacob released Max and pushed back Megan’s grinning head as Lucy objected with a threatening, “Megan, get away from my-“

Max activated his device and the prefects froze. Megan, still immune to its effects, ducked under Jacob’s outstretched hand, jerked his pants down, and took his member into her mouth. With a faint electrical hum, he was immediately hard, and Megan delivered soft moans between faint audio distortions as she slid her mouth along his shaft. The accelerated and ultimately damage-inducing arousal Max had seen in the frozen female robots seemed to affect the male model to an even greater degree — with every bob of Megan’s head, the timbre of Jacob’s internal machinery rose from inaudible toward distressed, telling of the failure of one or more systems that had been pushed past their operational thresholds.

“Might want to get clear, Megan,” Max informed the still enthusiastically sucking robotic co-ed, but she paid him no heed, he lips and tongue further driving the male robot’s systems into chaos. Max shrugged and hit the button.

“-boyfriend!” finished Lucy, her exclamation barely heard over the electrical and mechanical discord echoing throughout the hall from Jacob’s shivering body.

“M-m-m-meeeg-g-gan!” Jacob managed, smoke rushing from his mouth as his eyes clenched shut, light shining red through his eyelids. “I-I-I-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-“ his statement ended when his electricity-enshrouded head exploded in a gout of white fire followed by a violent spray of fluid and bluish vapor.

Lucy stared at her headless companion, her head twitching oddly as her face cycled through a range of incongruous expressions before settling her gaze on Max with a placid look. Max simply winked, momentarily ruining her composure as her head trembled in reaction.

“Fancy a trip to the pool, Lucy?” he asked. “Wait — aren’t you on the team? Don’t tell me you’re truant!”

“The Headmaster is waiting to explain everything, Max,” Lucy said, perfectly calm. “He sent us to fetch you. You are not in any trouble, nor he is angry with you, but… his patience does have its limits.”

“Fine,” Max said with a sigh, then muttered under his breath, “…race you.”

As her face registered confusion once more, he sprang into a run and rushed past her. Predictably, her insufferably competitive nature — programming, Max mentally corrected — compelled her to sprint after him, her toned and bared legs pumping beneath her tweed skirt as she quickly gained on Max. When she passed him with a wry smirk on her lips, Max smiled back and thumbed the device.

Miss Belle had been in mid-stride during the device’s activation and had managed to take another step to stabilize herself before freezing, but Lucy’s imbalance was not so easily corrected. She fell, looking as though she would land on her face when her leg snapped forward and slammed her black brogue into the floor, pushing like a piston and causing her to spiral to one side into a wall-mounted drinking fountain. There was a flash and a pop from the collusion, then her body crumpled and fell on to the wooden floor.

Max brought her to her feet and noticed a tear in her blouse, beneath which he could see a small rent with exposed wiring in her otherwise smooth abdomen. Despite the damage, her legs worked to keep her upright as he lead her otherwise rigid form in the direction they had come from, passing Megan who was still busily fellating the headless body of Jacob.

“You really don’t need to keep doing that,” Max advised in passing.

“Mmmhffffuuu<bzzzzzz>!” Megan replied, showing no sign of abandoning her oral fixation.

As they neared the pool, Max carefully urged the frozen Lucy into a jog, then a run. When the doors leading to his intended destination loomed before them, he activated the device and ran ahead, taunting, “And here I thought you were on the track team!”

She blinked in confusion, but then poured on speed, blasting past him and through the door before coming to a stunned halt at the edge of the Academy’s swimming pool.

Staring at her and then Max was the entire women’s swim team, clustered at the shallow end. Every one of them wore an identical dark-blue spandex one-piece, their hair tucked beneath white swim-caps, conforming their appearances in a way that reinforced the idea they had all been stamped out in a factory somewhere.

That wasn’t to say he couldn’t tell them apart, though — he picked out Holly from her more enhanced curves, the waifish Millie with her perpetual look of boredom, Amelia and her freckles, Poppy’s impressive height… Max grinned at the class, muttering, “This was definitely the right choice.”

“Lucy!” a voice snapped, and his attention turned to the PE instructor, Miss Ashley. She was a tanned, slender woman, shorter than most of her students, whose low-zipped athletic jacket and white tank-top allowed a splendid view of her scrumptious bust. Knowing what she was, he now wondered if some sort of error during her fabrication had led to her chest’s… overdevelopment? He remembered that when she had given that lecture on pool safety and struggled to get the lifering over her chest, he looked around to his classmates, expecting to share a laugh — but not one of them so much as batted an eye. Maybe none of the other robots saw her that way because they weren’t programmed to — maybe he was the only one who registered those stupendous tits.

Miss Ashley shifted in her green trainers irritably, the supple calves above them wrapped tight in tall athletic socks. Then came her bare knees and toned thighs, the exposed skin ending in her tiny gym shorts. “You’re late!”

Lucy’s processors were apparently still struggling to put all of this together as she stammered, “Th-the Head-d-d-master…”

“And you, Max!” Miss Ashley continued, her bright blue eyes narrowing at him. “Truant and flouting the laws of the Academy!”

Max smiled and said, “Miss Ashley, if you’ll permit me: I have an alternate lesson plan that I’d like to present to the class. And you are invited to participate as well, of course.”

Miss Ashley looked shocked. “Max, the amount of trouble you are already in pales in comparison to what will happen if you do not turn around this very instant and return-“

During this exchange, Lucy was busily undressing herself. Max’s attention had been divided between her and Miss Ashley, but he gave the malfunctioning premier student commanded his full notice when she pulled her top off and the shirt snagged on her damaged abdomen. Encountering resistance, Lucy pulled harder on her blouse, finally managing to rip it off, but not without widening the hole in her side, revealing the bundles of machinery and electronics within. Down to her bra and panties, the vacant-eyed fembot teetered briefly on her feet before executing a half-dive, half-fall into the pool, while her coach interrupted her scolding of Max to exclaim, “Lucy, what are you doing?!”

There was a sharp pop when she hit the water and the girls around her instantly began to shudder, arms stiff, eyes wide as smoke wafted between clenched teeth. A chain reaction spread throughout the team as every student stiffened and spasmed when she was caught in electrical bursts from one of her failing neighbors.

“Dammit, Lucy!” Max exclaimed as he watched his simple, humble dreams of a team-wide orgy going up in smoke. Amidst the symphony of twitching servos and frying electrical components, the towering Poppy was the first to go, her impressive height reduced significantly when her strangely smirking head blasted off like a champagne cork, landing with a splash on the far side of the pool.

The diminutive gossip Ruby slumped underwater and was then obscured by a sudden eruption of bubbles, her detached head resurfacing while slowly drawling, “Yoouuu won’t believvvve what happened at swimmmm classssszzzzz…”

Millie, that morose girl with the low bangs, finally wore an expression of something other than bored disinterest as she grappled the curvaceous Holly who had been attempting to hoist herself out of the pool. Holly fell forward on to her bust with a wet smack, bent over the edge of the pool while her legs remained in the water. After a muffled blast from under her swim cap, Millie’s head catapulted into the her teammates posterior and then detonated, and Holly gave a startled gasp before following suit, spraying her swim instructor and Max with sparks and fragments of rubber and plastic as her body rocked on its compressed cleavage.

The exuberant Amelia managed to vault completely out of the pool and strode toward her stunned coach. Electricity shot across her dripping-wet form, her body affected by soft rippling waves that subtly altered her physiology, most notably in the cresting of her breasts beneath the skin-tight spandex and the slight filling in of her backside as the suit’s lining pinched deeper into her softening edges.

“Miss Ashely!” Amelia said excitedly as her nipples budded beneath a suit swelling with cleavage. “C-c-cannn I b-b-be excused? <bzzzzzzt!> I think-think-think IIIIII-“

“You’re excused!” her coach hurriedly interjected. With a vacuous smile, Amelia spun on her heel and began an unsteady march to the door, while the last of her classmates broke down in the pool. Max wondered if she alone might actually make it out as she planted her legs firmly before the door, swung her arm out in an exaggerated gesture, and swung it back to grip the door handle. At that moment, two distinct tendrils of lightning crept up from her ankles until they joined in a flickering tongue of electricity between her thighs, and fused into a bright blue star before disappearing with a pulse when they met her groin. Her round buttocks plumped and then clenched, seeming to devour the back of her swimsuit and transforming it into a taught thong as she gasped, “Oooh!” Her body suddenly flared with color, glowing incandescent for a moment before she burst to apart in a rapid succession of sharp electrical explosions, falling into a buzzing, smoking tangle of limbs like a discarded mannequin.

The robotic girl’s swim team was no more, the ruined components of most of its members at the bottom of an electrified pool. Max sighed and looked up at Miss Ashely, who seemed to be slowly regaining her composure.

“Max-“ she began, her face softening into an assured, confiding smile.

“Let me guess — I need to see the Headmaster?”

“Yes, Max. He can explain-“

“You see, that’s not really what I’m after. I find that as time goes on, I don’t really care about an explanation.”

Ashely blinked, her smile faltering briefly. “Well, whatever it is that you do desire, the Headmaster-“

He cut her off again. “The Headmaster hasn’t been pretty fucking off-target with my desires thus far.”

Her smile darkened, her voice hardening as she said, “So… you wish to defy the will of someone who has complete control over this entire facility, yourself included. How do you expect this to end for you should you upset him?”

“But why go to see some stodgy administrator when I’m having so much fun?” he asked, readying the device. “Here, this should help you to empathize with my present situation.” He punched the button and Miss Ashley froze with a skeptical look on her face. Max pulled off her thin athletic jacket, her plump cleavage practically bursting through her fitted white tank-top. Max gave her awe-inspiring breasts a hands-on appraisal and found them unusually taught and springy, adding credence to his ‘glitched-tits’ theory. Sweat was now glistening across their rounded surface, and he used the device to turn her back on. The robotic instructor let out a sharp gasp, her fingers jerking to her chest and then shying away as she steadied her gaze on Max. “You… you need to see…”

“A bit more fine-tuning,” Max muttered, freezing her again. He brushed her hips, sliding his hands over the smooth fabric of her minimal exercise shorts, tracing the curve of her well-formed bottom, slipping his hand beneath to feel her silky skin growing warmer at his touch. He delivered a light squeeze and experienced a swell of warmth. Were her components trying to mimic a human response, or simply venting excess heat as he overloaded them with a situation she was not programmed to handle?

This time when she was unfrozen, she gave a low moan and staggered into Max, her hand raking across his chest. “M-m-maxxx…” she whispered, “y-you need to s-seeee…” She hesitated, then tore off her tank top. Before her buoyant tits could settle from their violent liberation, she was on him, her mouth crushed against his as she attacked his trousers. The moment he had worked her skimpy shorts down to her knees, she gave a limber flex of a toned leg and was free of them, still wearing her dainty green trainers and socks. With athletic poise she speared herself upon his raging erection (whose solidity shocked even him, given its recent activities). She gave a digitally fluctuating moan, and he could feel an electrical prickling as her tight sex forced its way along his shaft.

As the two tumbled on to a rubber exercise mat, Max couldn’t help but provoke a reaction by remarking, “You, know you were right — I really ought to see the Headmaster now.”

Her teeth clenched, lights behind her blue eyes sparking. Her rhythmic thrusting ground to a shuddering halt with her heated pelvis resting against his, and she managed to stammer, “Y-y-yesss, g-g-go to the He-he-headmasterrrr-“

He gripped her tits and said, “Then again, I am enjoying myself…”

With a strangely reverberating groan, she pushed his hands against her overripe breasts and it slipped between her twin melons drenched in simulated sweat. “Th-then fuck meeee!” she whimpered, the engine of her hips sputtering to life as he fondled her apparently hypersensitive bust, moans of rapturous pleasure escaping from her with their every caress.

“But I have kept him waiting quite a while…”

Her once smoothly pumping ass bucked in violent shudders before she stopped halfway along his length. Smoke rose from her ears and electricity flitted over her spasming features, her brown pony-tail inexplicably pointing up and kinking like a query mark as if to highlight her confusion, her flashing eyes straying in random directions. “No-yes-yes-no, y-you mussszzzzt-“

“Then again, he could probably stand to wait a bit more…”

As her machinery fought contradicting instructions, her quivering pelvis convulsed along his cock in completely arrhythmic thrusts. Her face flushed unnaturally pink as she took on a look of complete confusion, eyes growing wide as she panted, “System errorrrr corrruptionnnnn- “

“But knowing that he wouldn’t like it if-”

With a noise that was equal parts exasperated moan and sharp mechanical squeal, the back of Miss Ahsley’s head exploded, her flushed face looking at him with a delirious, absent smile while her hips gave a final thrust, then she eased forward in a gentle collapse across him. Her steadily firming bust was near frictionless with synthetic sweat as she slid off of his chest and rolled to one side. Glancing at her he was met by the back of her head, an uneven protrusion of metal and sparking wire.

“Well…” Max muttered, staring at the off-white expanse of the pool’s ceiling while Miss Ashley’s robotic body twitched faintly with a whir, “…now what?”

When the question went unanswered by his own thoughts or any other party, he got dressed and strolled back down the hall where he found Megan still on her knees. Jacob’s headless body convulsed with a small electrical surge at every movement of Megan’s mouth.

“I admire your dedication,” Max remarked.

Megan gave a muffled moan, but remained at her present task. Max looked around, wondering if and when there would be another ‘summons’ after the two prefects had failed to retrieve him…. and what form that summons might take.

“You know, I think I will go and see the Headmaster,” Max announced.

Megan popped off of Jacob’s cock and gave an upbeat, “OK!” Released from her care, Jacob’s body popped and fizzed for a moment before crumpling into a smoldering heap. With a trembling rattle in her knees, the fembot rose to her feet and began a faltering shuffle toward the Headmaster’s office, glancing over her shoulder to beckon Max with a crooked smile before her head snapped forward once more. He matched the pace of the teetering robot, who took his hand to steady her lopsided gait.

“How w-was the swimmmm team?” she asked, and Max thought he heard the hint of a suggestion in her voice.

“Oh… not quite what I’d hoped for,” he sighed. “And at this rate, the Academy is going to run out of students by the week’s end.”

With a sudden tick of her neck followed by a much gentler motion, she inclined her head on his shoulder, “In the end, we’re ex-x-pendabllle,” she said lazily. “You’re the one he wants to p-p-preserve.”

“Well,” Max said, eying the door to the headmaster’s office ahead of them. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Part Four

The moment Max stepped into the office, he heard a voice far more firm than polite state, “Please, have a seat.” It was Miss Brookes, the Headmaster's well-coiffed personal assistant, behind an impressively large and conspicuously empty desk. Beyond the *antique* leather sofa she had indicated, the whole room was furnished matching weathered but well cared for dark wood furniture. Given the recent exposure of the Academy’s facade, Max had to wonder if this all wasn't as fake as the blonde secretary fixing him with her impassive blue eyes.

Because he had had little interaction with the headmaster, he had had little interaction with her –but he had always admired the Headmaster's apparent tastes - sleek and tanned and wearing pristine whites, he was always aware of her presence from the brisk click of her heels as she moved through the halls on her errands. Despite the capricious authority she represented, any anxiety upon seeing her was offset by her flawless beauty, her golden hair perfectly parted, her trim curves a captivating silhouette beneath her spotless white skirt and blouse. Of all the robotic faculty, she seemed the apex of a finely tuned machine, every movement and statement made with no question of intent.

In stark contrast to the smoothly operating secretary, the buzzing and sputtering Megan followed Max, falling against him as one of her jittering legs gave out. She emitted a digitized "Oops!" her eyes eventually swiveling to meet his from behind tangles of honey-blonde curls. “I think I might be sick-dizzy-sleepy-horrrrrny!" she exclaimed in rapid succession, leaning heavily on his arm.

"Megan, you are to report to the nurse immediately," Miss Brookes stated.

"Already did!" Megan chirped as Max eased her on to the couch where she slumped awkwardly in her rumpled uniform. He gave her a reaffirming pat before walking straight to the Headmaster's door. Miss Brookes quickly stood and blocked his access, reiterating, "The Headmaster will see you when he is ready- until then, you must take a seat."

Max looked at the stern secretary's unyielding expression and smiled. "I think both the headmaster and I have kept each other waiting long enough." He thumbed the control in his pocket to immobilize her, and she gave a slight shudder - but when he tried to push her aside, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully.

"You will wait," she stated as she lead him by his pained wrist to the couch. Though she was obviously not frozen by Max’s device, her movements were stiffer than before, lacking her former graceful efficiency, and accompanied by the audible whining of servos. He tried the remote again, but to no effect - she forced him down on to the couch, glowered at him as if daring him to try something, and gave a rigid pivot to return to her desk.

"Plan B, I suppose," he muttered, producing the syringe full of 'compliance' from his jacket pocket and thumbing the cap free. As she stepped away, Max jabbed the needle through her skirt and into the tantalizing curve of her posterior. Once more she stiffened, her machinery emitting a growing buzzing sound.

"Show me to the headmaster if you please," Max said, nearly sinking the needle in the bin. Megan let out a sympathetic coo of disappointment, then a profusion of sparks.

"Error," Miss Brookes stated plainly, turning to him with a blank expression. "Priority conflict, corruption in decision matrix."

"Well, maybe don't worry your pretty little head," Max said, stepping toward the door. "I'll see myself in."

With a chorus of mechanical whirring, Miss Brookes put herself between him and the door, placed her fingers upon the handle, and froze. "Error," she said, her head twitching, thin wisps of smoke beginning to rise from beneath her blonde hair.

Max put his hand over hers, receiving a jolt of electricity, and forced her to turn the handle - but just as the door began to open, the malfunctioning secretary jerked it shut and slammed herself into Max, her body feverishly hot.

"Perhaps I c-can get you somethinnnng while you wait-t-t?" she buzzed, her tanned cleavage heaving despite a distinct lack of breath.

"The door, Miss Brookes," Max commanded, though he could feel his resolve weakening as she hitched up her skirt, a white thong tucked between her bronzed cheeks, marred by a small pink dot where the needle had struck.

"Error!" she groaned, collapsing into him, her body now slick with artificial perspiration, her white clothes clinging to her wet curves. "Unable to follow priority command, p-please issue new directivvvvvve!" She was panting now, her hands tugging at her thong as she pleaded, "Max, would you n-not preferrr to-"

Suddenly, the soaked and smoking fembot released her grip upon Max as Megan buried her face into the secretary's ass, tearing her thong off and plunging her tongue into the stunned robot's pussy. She immediately began to convulse, electricity creeping around her formerly perfect hair, stammering, "Mmmmmmegan, you are interfeeeering with violation in decision you must please to nnnurse for immediate dis-dis-mantling!"

"Good, isn't she?" Max remarked, stepping back toward the headmaster's door.

"Stop!" Miss Brookes barked, "You must waiiiii-" her command ended in a wail as Megan plunged deeper, rising on her knees to lift Miss Brookes into the air. The secretary writhed, suspended upon the schoolgirl's face, her tanned legs kicking helplessly as her failing machinery squealed in protest.

Max stepped into the Headmaster's office. There, behind a polished oak desk and surrounded by shelves neatly lined with leather-bound books was a tan, blond gentleman in a crisp white suit. His handsome, square-jawed face was unperturbed by the malfunction-laden cries of distress and pleasure from his secretary in the other room, and similarly betrayed no emotion as Max approached. He simply closed the ledger before him and set aside his pen before folding his hands on his desk.

"Headmaster," Max said evenly.

“Max,” the Headmaster responded with a hint of disdain. “You’ve shown yourself to be quite obstinate today.”

Max gave a shrug. “You wanted to see me-” A muffled explosion from the adjacent room caused Max to flinch, and he finished, “Well, here I am.”

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. “I suspect you think you’re entitled to an explanation.”

“If you like.”

The Headmaster blinked, which Max chose to read as him being completely gobsmacked. “So you think you have all the answers?”

“I’m the only human in a school full of robots, and someone who either likes me or doesn’t like you taught me how to make this-“ he flashed the device “-to upend all your hard work.”

For a brief moment, the Headmaster pursed his lips. “And you find this sufficient? How incurious of you.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d believe a single word of explanation from you, so let’s get to what matters – either I’ve compromised whatever it is you have going on here or you still have use for me and you’re willing to deal. If it’s the former, then I’ll be on my way-“

“To where, exactly?”

“Whatever’s over those walls.”

The Headmaster smirked.

“Or I suppose you’ll imprison me or kill me or whatever. But if you want to make a deal, I’d like to hear your offer.”

There was a long pause as the Headmaster scrutinized Max, his slender, perfectly manicured fingers drumming exactly once across his desk. “I would propose you return to your studies and graduate.”

Max snorted. “I’m going to need a new history teacher.”

“You need not fret - Miss Belle will be ready for tomorrow’s lesson, with no recollection of today’s mischief.”

Something about the utter lack of concern, the assuredness in the Headmaster’s voice really ate at Max – but he was damned if he was going to show it. “Fine. Excellent. First thing in the morning, then.”

“Max, I don’t think you’re committing to this in good faith.”

It took every ounce of Max’s self-control not to snap – this had to be a deliberate provocation. This man wanted to talk about good faith after lying to him for his entire life?

The Headmaster continued in a voice like satin. “It would help to ease my suspicion if you would ask for something in return.”

“Ma-“. Max stopped himself. He was surprised at how reflexively her name came to his lips – Maya, his first real girlfriend, the one who had sacrificed herself for him… Or, as he had come to realize, Maya had been his robot girlfriend, sent to him when he began to stray from his path, and who had ultimately set him back on it more firmly than any threat or reward ever could. But despite all that, he still longed to see her again. And this was all likely the design of this smug prick sitting across from him.

“What was that?” the Headmaster quietly asked.

Fuck you, Headmaster was what he thought, but it came out, “Megan.”

There was a slight tic in the Headmaster’s brow. “What about Megan?”

“I want her to remember today’s mischief.”

Max felt himself once more under the Headmaster’s scrutiny. “Why don’t we just make her your girlfriend. It would be easier to do that than-“

“Look, I’ll be there on time for history class, and for every class right up until I graduate as your diligent pupil with perfect marks for attendance. I’ll do my homework, I’ll press my uniform, and I’ll have lights out at nine pm sharp. Here-“ he tossed the remote device on the Headmaster’s desk. “But Megan remembers.”

The headmaster took the device, turning it over in his hands. “Very well, Max.” He carefully deposited the device in a door that opened and shut with a whisper. “Megan will ‘remember’.”

Uncertain in this victory, Max fidgeted in his chair, while the Headmaster seemed content to sit in silence. Unable to bear it any longer, Max stood.

“I shall see you at graduation,” the Headmaster stated with certainty, opening the ledger in front of him. Max made his way to leave the room, pulling open the door to find the headless wreck of Miss Brookes sparking just beyond. Megan sat just behind her on her haunches, her face and hair plastered with lubricant and robotic fluids, her uniform a total mess, as she stared into the distance with a banal smile.

“You’re also going to need a new secretary,” Max grumbled.

“You’ve had a difficult morning,” the Headmaster coolly replied. “Why not take the rest of the day off.”

Megan’s attention snapped to Max with a whir of machinery, her smile broadening. “H-hello, Mmmax!”

Stooping down, he lifted her to her feet, but her knees seemed to buckle whenever he stopped supporting her.

“Th-the Headmaster c-can help me-me-me!” she said in cheery stammer.

Max ducked down and slid his arm behind her legs, hoisting her in a bridal carry. She was lighter than when he first tried to move her in the shower, and he was able to bring her out of the Headmaster’s office and take a steady pace towards his own dormitory.

The Academy was empty, Max’s footsteps echoing through the deserted halls while Megan’s legs idly twitched and whirred, her bare thighs warm and against his forearms. “Wh-where are we g-going?” Megan asked with a slight giggle.

“My room.”

“M-Max!” she said, her face in shock. “I c-can’t b-b-be in the boy’s d-dormitory!” Even in her deteriorated state, even knowing she was wholly artificial, the coy look she gave him with her honey-colored ringlets spilling over her half-lidded eyes sent his heart racing. “What are you p-p-planninnnng?”

To fuck your silicon brains out? Only that wasn’t it. “Megan,” he said, surprised that her name caught in his throat. “I just… I need someone to know what happened today, someone I can talk to, even if… even if she’s just a robot.”

“I’m n-not a ro-bot-bot-bot, Max!” Megan laughed, sparks trickling from her head.

“Today was… You genuinely helped me today, and you’re in this sorry state because of me, and I don’t even know if it makes sense to… to feel guilt, or gratitude, or even… like…”

Megan kissed him, the feeling electric – literally – with a strange tang from the fluids left by Miss Brookes. It felt both artificial and spontaneous and he realized there was no way they were making it all the way to his room. Breaking from her lips to find somewhere for the them, he settled on the teacher’s lounge and fumbled his way through the door, still holding her in his arms and returning her kisses with matched fervor. Stumbling through an obstacle course of chairs and tables, he finally collapsed with her on to a couch. Already her hands were at his trousers, his in her blouse, and soon both were shed, followed by the undergarments beneath. With his kisses trailing down her neck to her ample breasts humming with an electric buzz, he entered her bare, sweltering sex beneath her tweed skirt.

Her voice skipped in pitch, fluctuating synthetically as he thrust into her again and again, his hands squeezing breasts that felt strangely tacky from the intense heat of her malfunctioning body. Servos in her legs whirred uselessly as her entire chassis was rocked by Max’s unbridled enthusiasm, what little control she had being channeled into meeting his relentless hips with bucking of her own. “Alll forrrr y-youuu, M-max!” she squealed, smoke rising from her trembling lips. “All f-forrr – Ahhhh!” Warmth and wetness surged around Max, a string of electric bursts erupting inside her, patches of her tanned skin searing with light. He brought his lips from her tits to her smoking mouth, ignoring the acrid taste to kiss her deeply as he throbbed in explosive release, his hands squeezing her irrepressibly round ass while the bundled artificial musculature spasmed beneath its smooth synthetic surface. A sudden powerful shock from her made him see stars, leaving him tensed and numb.

Gradually sensation came back to him through the feel of her soft and warm body, her thoroughly drenched sex, her itchy, rumpled skirt, her damp honey curls. Her body twitched and hummed, and he couldn’t tell if the occasional moan and sigh from her was a sign of her cognizance or just the malfunctioning vocalizations of a broken robotic schoolgirl. He could empathize either way, feeling incapable of saying much of anything, his consciousness not worth the trouble of holding on to…

Max awoke alone in his own bed, a glance at his clock telling him it was Monday morning – again? That couldn’t have been a dream - he remembered too much, it was simply too lucid for it not to have been real, and yet – robots? Ridiculous. He realized he didn’t have a lot of time before history class, and used the mindless routine of getting ready as a way to put off the impossible thoughts swirling in his head.

Crossing the yard, he avoided eye contact with his fellow classmates, and none pressed him on his sullen mood – at least until spied Megan waiting on the steps of the main entrance. She was lovely as ever, her hair neatly pulled back, her uniform fitted perfectly, her movement graceful and without any accompanying mechanical sound as she descended the steps to meet him. “You seem to be in a mood,” she said with a wry smile.

Max could only stare at first, unable to formulate the question. “Did we… are you…?”

“Oh dear,” Megan said, pulling him out of the stream of students entering the building, drawing a few curious glances at this uncharacteristic fraternization. “Were you so adamant that I remember everything just because you couldn’t be arsed to?”

He felt giddy, light headed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her. He leaned in, and she gave him a swat across the cheek. “Are you daft?” she hissed. “We’ve got class! And you made a commitment.”

“Yeah, but… we could… I mean, if this is all for my benefit, why do you need to go to gym class?”

“Why not?” she said, giving his reddened cheek a gentle pat. “You knowing I’m there should help you imagine me in my tight little shorts~”

Max swallowed, trying to find the ideal opening argument for them to skip class and fuck in the hedge row when the five-minute bell sounded.

“That’s me,” Megan said, glancing around at the now empty yard before leaning in to give him a small kiss on his cheek. “Get to class. And try not to break Miss Belle again!” She spun on her heel to leave, slipping from his grip as she sprinted toward the gym.

He watched her run with an aching desire to chase her – it was easy to imagine how the ensuing moments would play out, and to extrapolate them into another day of debauchery, regardless of any promises made to the Headmaster. But beyond that… he didn’t know. And if he followed the path set before him, the one he had pledged himself to, he still didn’t know what would happen… or, even more troubling, what he wanted to happen.

Max dutifully climbed the stairs and made sure he was in his seat with a sharpened pencil in hand by the ringing of the final bell. Miss Belle was soon repeated the opening of yesterday’s lecture on the history of the Empire’s conquests, and Max began scribbling plans for a new remote device of his own design.

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