Nihilistic

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 distant 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 time machine – 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 – however, 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.

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