To be a stumpy, bratty bot always in need to correct my Master. To have to inform him about being precautionary when handling me. And even on a normal day, I'd nag Master about the most mundane things: inappropriate posture, daily stretching routine, my treads getting stuck on misplaced objects, even his indoor decibel levels.
When Master gets tired of me correcting his every move, he lifts me up like a toy and brings me into his bedroom where a full length mirror resides. As I wait on the edge of the bed watching Master adjust his pants, I complain about possibly falling off the bed and having my internals banged up. "Perhaps that'd get you to shut up," he says "but I've got another idea in mind".
After I asked Master what that could be, without a word, he picks me up again and carries me to the mirror, his dick exposed and flaccid. I continue to question the situation and Master's cock begins to stiffen as I become more clueless. I'm not even aware of the fact that his length nearly surpasses my height.
When he's heard enough, Master sits me on his tip, my synthetic donut barely enveloping it, as we both stare at our reflections. With fewer words, I ask Master what is it we're practicing, and he says "Server maintenance, crackpot. You've got a lot to learn". Immediately following that, Master pushes me further down his tall cock with little to no resistance.
Suddenly I begin to feel woozy, all the information I could share with Master slowly leaks out of me just as easily as the excess lube I had produced on instinct. Riding up and down Master's shaft, ideas turn into wimpy moans and a desire for dick riding. My twig-like arms attempting to hold on to Master's, until they buckle into blurry shapes.
Now downgraded to a fuckbot, my pupils become swirls as Master fucks me faster and harder, getting a good look at my face as I can hardly analyze the forms dancing in the mirror. The sight is an embarrassment: an autonomous encyclopedia has been modded to take big dick and has an anus so puffy that it can be its own flavor at Dunkin'.
I try to communicate with Master, but all I can output are stutters and light grunts. I continue to leak more lube and pre, making it easier for Master to fuck me fanatically. "Almost done," Master says "let's see how much of a smartass you are now". Rounding up the final repairs, Master finishes inside me and I go limp from the sensory overload, eyes still spiraling.
Master slowly lifts me up from his cock and I gush cum as if I were a broken ice cream machine. Master sets me down on the floor and tells me "go clean up this mess, tin can". My movements are jagged, and my treads only do well at catching fresh semen from the bedroom carpet. Master cleans up the scene and allows me to reboot until I get to pester him again with practical advice.
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