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• 19:07 • Monday • December 30, 2024 • 356 members • 96,454 files uploaded • 113,328 pages • 195,374 edits •

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Features	New Content	Editing
Gallery	'	Article drive
Story archive	New Comic: Finding Yourself	Help
File:Nav-reviews.png Reviews	New Artist: NicoCheese	Sandbox
Master list of ASFR	New Author: Aaack	Upload files
Follow your own plot	New Story: The Plaything	Recent changes
Photo manip workshop	New Story: Cara and the Mystery Robobabe	Unused files
Story writing workshop	New Story: One in a Billion	Gallery of new files

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Author of the Month: Saya Total # of stories: 8 Story of the week: After Hours Synopsis: An employee has an accident in the store room and must be fixed by her coworker.

“Hi-Hi-Hi-Hi—J-J-J-Ja-Jasmine-mine—c-cuddle-cuddle wanna cu-cuddle? Me. With.” I steeled myself for the task ahead. Normally, in accordance with science fiction tropes, the interface jack for a hard connection would have been located in the back of the neck, typically near the base. But I was pretty sure I saw that jack lying somewhere on the floor. But like any good engineered system, it had a backup in place. Namely, the other old sci-fi trope. A control panel in the back. All well and good, save for one thing. That meant taking off Jasmine's top. “Okay, Jasmine. Don't start getting all weird on me. I need to take your top off in order to establish a connection with your processing systems. You're obviously a little glitched up, here.” I squashed my perverted side and first pulled her employee vest off. Then, the item underneath; a low-cut purple shirt that looked about ready to give up the ghost and let the breasts underneath fly free like a pair of tan-colored zeppelins. And while that may not be a sexy analogy, I had to try very, very hard to make it that way. The shirt was off, and the object of so many lusty male gazes were revealed. Mostly. I wasn't sure if I was relieved to see she was wearing a bra that looked about a cup size too small for her or not, but as I ran my fingers down her back (Margaret Thatcher naked on a rainy autumn day, Margaret Thatcher naked on a rainy autumn day...I wasn't even sure what she looked like, but thinking about a dumb movie was just as good a distraction), I found a section of synthetic skin that was plastic smooth. A bit of a tell in the industry of where a panel might be if you didn't want to put seams on a 'bot. I distinctly remembered what I said to myself when I found out where it was, though. Saya - After Hours

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