T-X Terminatrix: Unexpected Outcums

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Protrepticus
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T-X Terminatrix: Unexpected Outcums

Post by Protrepticus » Sat Nov 26, 2022 7:53 am

T-X Terminatrix: Unexpected Outcums

Background and Inspiration: These stories were influenced by ramblings with my dear friend, DiamondsR4Ever. The two short fictions are directly inspired from scenes in Terminator 3. The T-X is a fembot who, while extremely powerful, is very arrogant, narcissistic, and sensual. So, what would occur if a couple of moments happened, shall we say, differently?

Regular versions of the two short stories are above, and futanari versions are below.

Elements and Keywords: T-X , TX , Terminatrix , Terminator , Terminator 3 , Rise of the Machines , gynoid , robot , cyborg , fembot , leather , catsuit , fight , masochism , sadism , sadomasochism , role reversal , sexual , orgasm , squirting , female ejaculation , male ejaculation , cum , futanari , damage , destruction , malfunction , glitch , spasm , dismantling , explosion



HALLWAY ENCOUNTER

Image
Image
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLrqV0tViY0


"Run!"

The brawny man’s scream echoes through the hall, propelling the two humans to flee in terror.

Slowly, the tall, spotless beauty steps through the air base's corridor, towards the scarred man. Desperately, he looks around, the red menace continuing towards him.

Panel in wall: contains pressurized piping, he computes.

His fist crashes through the glass aperture, retrieving the oversized fire extinguisher. Armed, he strongly strides toward her.

Curious, her processors bleep to herself, at this new futile attempt to prevent the inevitable.

She is designed to terminate other cybernetic organisms, after all. And his numerous attempts to destroy her advanced, crystalline chassis have been in vain. Only the anti-tank RPG crippled her plasma cannon and fractured some inner mechanisms. Negligible. Insignificant impairment.

Allow T-850 to approach. She stops, waiting for him, basking in her indestructible superiority.

Clank
Bang

The T-850 uses substantial power, but the canister marginally moves the T-X’s head to the left, then to the right, leaving her unphased. John Connor and Katherine Brewster must escape to Crystal Peak.

CLONG
BONK

A faint smile forms on the perfect, glossed lips of the icy queen, now that the male figure is using considerably more energy to snap her head from side to side. Her arms stay at her flanks, motionless. Within the tight leather, the plump folds of her perfectly reproduced sex moisten, tightening in anticipation. So proudly basking in her narcissism, she willingly ignores a flashing prompt in the lower right of her HUD.

Chances of destroying T-X: 4.3%, processes the T-850.

He knows this is the last, fleeting chance to stagger her. Slow her down. The attempt will be futile. Regardless, all combat circuits fire in unison, releasing the android equivalent of adrenaline into his gargantuan arms.

Now a noticeable grin creeps over her pristinely youthful expression, studying his middle-aged features rearing back, tensing his whole body. He raises the weapon above his head with purpose. Her hot sex spurts.

CRACK!

A sickening sound from within her neck.

His head tilts to the side, quizzically. She continues to smile. Until she stops, nearly expressionless. Her blue vision is slanted on a strange angle.

It takes the gynoid a moment to realize that gears have splintered. And the right primary piston in her neck has buckled, significantly loosened out of its socket. The prompt becomes a large, red warning, but the words are obstructed by another crash of the cylinder in her vision.

CRUCK!

The T-X’s expression is now on a perpendicular angle. A couple of support struts have messily punctured through the liquid metal exterior on the side of her bent neck. The enhanced spinal nerves uselessly fire. Surprise. But also something else she cannot fully process, as her pussy pulsates with more fluid.

Not possible! How could a T-850 hav-

CRUNCH!

Arms reflexively shoot up to where the CPU was, just moments ago. But above the popped, red collar of the jacket, where her gorgeous visage should be, there is a void. Her manicured hands grasp at nothing.

An opening above the clavicle is framed by flesh that has turned an unnatural shade of silver. The exposed, cracked endoskeleton gleams a dark, sensuous chrome, with loose cables flashing a thermionic blue, draping out of where the skull sat.

Error. Calculating countermeasures against T-850 unit…

The T-X’s body remains immobile. Her head hangs off the exposed, steel strands, upside down, her vision flipped. The perfect face dangles, turning slightly around the large breasts with stiffened nipples, the eyes widening, the mouth gasping. The gray optics look up, that is, to the body's crotch, which noticeably dampens through the red fabric.

…No solutions found. Error.

CLAAANG!

The wires snap. Her head is sent flying through the air, until it crashes against the hard wall.

CLIP!

Having bounced off, the cranium rolls on the floor, still trying to process how these errors could have occurred. The body’s broken neck sparks below the still clasping hands, excess plasma exploding through the severed cords. Her hips convulse in ecstatically shocked throws.

Like a sickly parodic choreography, the head finally stops rolling. Her blue eyes look up at the body's quivering legs. The thick thighs widen, splitting the fly open, and moisture surges from within the inflamed labia.

In utter defeat, the severed head moans a synthetic tone. Its mouth wags open, the eyes going cross, as the liquid metal squirt bursts onto the outstretched tongue. Wave after wave of reflective cum coats the whining face.




DUEL AT CRYSTAL PEAK

Image
Image


GLUMP!

Somehow, the hulking, outdated machine had managed to shove its remaining hydrogen fuel cell into the advanced gynoid’s mouth, jamming it between her full, wet lips.

“Warning!” signaled her action circuits, the large font spreading across her blue vision, obscuring the smoking, fiery surroundings of the old bunker.

Her defensive routines had been amped, just moments before. The Sikorsky Sea King helicopter had crushed itself harmlessly against her impenetrable chassis and polyalloy covering, but this new assault made her entire body twitch in overload. Throughout their numerous encounters in the past twenty-four hours, the older model had not ceased to astound.

And now, perhaps it was the intimate way in which the T-850 gently cradled the T-X’s blonde bun, like a lover caressing his lady, that caused her to forgo the pursuit of her primary targets who were shielded behind the blast door. What may have also heated the gynoid’s circuits was the way the Terminator’s other hand assertively plunged his large cylinder deeper and deeper into the back of her mechanical throat.

Despite red prompts flashing dozens of ways to counter-attack the slower, less intelligent cyborg, the gynoid’s arms remained lowered, her fists opening and clenching. Now he pulled his fuel cell a bit out from her suctioning lips, before driving it even further into her.

The last thrust sent unintended commands to her backup processors. Automatedly, the lower opening tightened, her clit buzzing with life. The T-X’s head audibly whined from the smothering motion, and her large rear-end clenched with sudden tension. At the same time, the sumptuous vaginal lips lustfully leaked from the unorthodox attack.

All the while, her tongue was rolling around the thick, metal tube, feeling it gradually heating up; the Terminator’s reserve power let him observe her eyes flutter. Her long fingers reached up, swatting the T-850 aside, to then pull out the large tube. The Terminator looked up from his fallen position, observing her swaying hips. His scanners zoomed in on the staining fabric clinging to her tight crotch, deducing his tactics were still having the desired effect.

Ignoring her opponent completely, the T-X proceeded to push the phallic object in the tiny gap between her inflated breasts. The metal cylinder wedged between the huge, steel bolt-ons. Gingerly, her mouth parted to lick and suck the end of the cell which glowed an increasingly hotter orange.

The battle unit’s central processor flashed even more prompts:
"Warning!
- - Probability of catastrophic result: 34.2% - -
- - Eject T-850 fuel cell from mouth port!"

But she didn’t care. The T-X’s sexual subroutines were dissolving the self-preservation programming; her powerful arms (that could tear her opponent apart) pushed her massive breasts together. She continued to circle her wet tongue over the humming tip, with half the cell encased in her inflated cleavage.

The Terminator, however, had had enough. Bouncing back up, and making a dead-run toward her, he punched his half-skeletal hand between the large orbs that the superior machine continued to smush together. With his cock intently straining, the T-850 pulled out the power cell, the action causing her kneaded bust to spill free.

His human eye and exposed optical bore into her half-lidded gaze. Clenchingly, the Terminator’s fingers tightly wrapped into the golden hair for one final embrace. Her exposed nipples hardened. The rugged dick flew out of his ripped pants, throbbingly pointing towards her tight, wet snatch.

Restlessly, the T-X licked her thick lips, cooed, and opened her oral orifice to him, the flames of the surrounding debris painting beautiful shapes upon her aroused features.

"Eat me!" the Terminator taunted and, with her slutty lips gaping for him, he stuffed himself back into the Terminatrix’s moaning mouth.

GLUNK!

The cell squeezed itself completely through, bending her flexible, ceramic throat. Her back arched and her hips ground forward, her vaginal fluid leaking within the suit.

"Danger! Danger!
- - Probability of catastrophic failure: 76.9% - -
- - Eject T-850 fuel cell from mouth port immediately!"

She nonchalantly closed her eyes, tilting her head back, and her hands traveled down to unzip her pants. As the cell began to glow a magma orange against her tongue, the T-X reached inside and fingered her wet hole which excitedly sprayed with every swing of her bulbous buttocks. The T-850 looked down to see her other hand jerking his length.

Abruptly, the T-850’s steel fingers grabbed her smooth jaw, and forcefully twisted the T-X’s face back to his direction. Her eyelids pulled back to reveal her rolled-up optic sensors, before they focused on his, longingly.

“You are terminated!” he yelled.

The trembling, nuclear battery screeched between the humming lips, illuminating her cranial case beneath the human face, warm light pouring out from her mouth and eyes. The fuel cell released orangy lightning that arced through her endoskeleton, disrupting the blue plasma flow. Critical alarms, which blared within her armored structure, remained disregarded. Her hand blurred over his dick, the long fingers expertly stroking, until his frame trembled, covering her voluptuous form in his thick seed.

The T-X’s fleshy cunt violently gushed, coating her worthy adversary and the dusty ground, just as the cell blasted apart her perfect body, sending pieces of her ecstatic chassis in all directions within Crystal Peak. While the T-850 was completely obliterated, a long, muscular leg scurried across the floor. A taught, elegant arm smashed against the nearby jeep.

Her screaming head was launched against the ceiling, still whorishly calling out in its final braingasm.




HALLWAY ENCOUNTER (Futa Version)

"Run!"

The brawny man’s scream echoes through the hall, propelling the two humans to flee in terror.

Slowly, the tall, spotless beauty steps through the air base's corridor, towards the scarred man. Desperately, he looks around, the red menace continuing towards him.

Panel in wall: contains pressurized piping, he computes.

His fist crashes through the glass aperture, retrieving the oversized fire extinguisher. Armed, he strongly strides toward her.

Curious, her processors bleep to herself, at this new futile attempt to prevent the inevitable.

She is designed to terminate other cybernetic organisms, after all. And his numerous attempts to destroy her advanced, crystalline chassis have been in vain. Only the anti-tank RPG crippled her plasma cannon and fractured some inner mechanisms. Negligible. Insignificant impairment.

Allow T-850 to approach. She stops, waiting for him, basking in her indestructible superiority.

Clank
Bang

The T-850 uses substantial power, but the canister marginally moves the T-X’s head to the left, then to the right, leaving her unphased. John Connor and Katherine Brewster must escape to Crystal Peak.

CLONG
BONK

A faint smile forms on the perfect, glossed lips of the icy queen, now that the male figure is using considerably more energy to snap her head from side to side. Her arms stay at her flanks, motionless. Within the tight leather, her cock throbs and balls distend in anticipation. So proudly basking in her narcissism, she willingly ignores a flashing prompt in the lower right of her HUD.

Chances of destroying T-X: 4.3%, processes the T-850.

He knows this is the last, fleeting chance to stagger her. Slow her down. The attempt will be futile. Regardless, all combat circuits fire in unison, releasing the android equivalent of adrenaline into his gargantuan arms.

Now a noticeable grin creeps over her pristinely youthful expression, studying his middle-aged features rearing back, tensing his whole body. He raises the weapon above his head with purpose. Her slick shaft spurts.

CRACK!

A sickening sound from within her neck.

His head tilts to the side, quizzically. She continues to smile. Until she stops, nearly expressionless. Her blue vision is slanted on a strange angle.

It takes the gynoid a moment to realize that gears have splintered. And the right primary piston in her neck has buckled, significantly loosened out of its socket. The prompt becomes a large, red warning, but the words are obstructed by another crash of the cylinder in her vision.

CRUCK!

The T-X’s expression is now on a perpendicular angle. A couple of support struts have messily punctured through the liquid metal exterior on the side of her bent neck. The enhanced spinal nerves uselessly fire. Surprise. But also something else she cannot fully process, as her penis pulsates with more precum.

Not possible! How could a T-850 hav-

CRUNCH!

Arms reflexively shoot up to where the CPU was, just moments ago. But above the popped, red collar of the jacket, where her gorgeous visage should be, there is a void. Her manicured hands grasp at nothing.

An opening above the clavicle is framed by flesh that has turned an unnatural shade of silver. The exposed, cracked endoskeleton gleams a dark, sensuous chrome, with loose cables flashing a thermionic blue, draping out of where the skull sat.

Error. Calculating countermeasures against T-850 unit…

The T-X’s body remains immobile. Her head hangs off the exposed, steel strands, upside down, her vision flipped. The perfect face dangles, turning slightly around the large breasts with stiffened nipples, the eyes widening, the mouth gasping. The gray optics look up, that is, to the body's crotch, the precum oozing through the fabric encompassing the swollen tip.

…No solutions found. Error.

CLAAANG!

The wires snap. Her head is sent flying through the air, until it crashes against the hard wall.

CLIP!

Having bounced off, the cranium rolls on the floor, still trying to process how these errors could have occurred. The body’s broken neck sparks below the still clasping hands, excess plasma exploding through the severed cords. Her hips convulse in ecstatically shocked throws.

Like a sickly parodic choreography, the head finally stops rolling. Her blue eyes look up at the body's quivering legs. The thick thighs widen, and the straining genitals finally break through the fly. Above the exposed, round balls, the curvy cock shoots liquid metal jism.

In utter defeat, the severed head moans a synthetic tone. Its mouth wags open, the eyes going cross, as the chrome cream gushes onto the outstretched tongue. Wave after wave of reflective cum coats the whining face.



DUEL AT CRYSTAL PEAK (Futa Version)

GLUMP!

Somehow, the hulking, outdated machine had managed to shove its remaining hydrogen fuel cell into the advanced gynoid’s mouth, jamming it between her full, wet lips.

“Warning!” signaled her action circuits, the large font spreading across her blue vision, obscuring the smoking, fiery surroundings of the old bunker.

Her defensive routines had been amped, just moments before. The Sikorsky Sea King helicopter had crushed itself harmlessly against her impenetrable chassis and polyalloy covering, but this new assault made her entire body jerk in overload. Throughout their numerous encounters in the past twenty-four hours, the older model had not ceased to astound.

And now, perhaps it was the intimate way in which the T-850 gently cradled the T-X’s blonde bun, like a lover caressing his lady, that caused her to forgo the pursuit of her primary targets who were shielded behind the blast door. What may have also heated the gynoid’s circuits was the way the Terminator’s other hand assertively plunged his large cylinder deeper and deeper into the back of her mechanical throat.

Despite red prompts flashing dozens of ways to counter-attack the slower, less intelligent cyborg, the gynoid’s arms remained lowered, her fists opening and clenching. Now he pulled his fuel cell a bit out from her suctioning lips, before driving it even further into her.

The last thrust sent unintended commands to her backup processors. Automatedly, her tapered plasma cannon and twin batteries shot out from the shifted, endoskeletal crotch-plate, through the liquid covering. The whirring, chrome-plated genitals instantly covered themselves in liquid steel flesh, encased in a film of skin-tight red-leather that only enhanced their feminized look.

All the while, her tongue was rolling around the thick, metal tube, feeling it gradually heating up; the Terminator’s reserve power let him observe her eyes flutter. Her long fingers reached up, swatting the T-850 aside, to then pull out the large tube. The Terminator looked up from his fallen position, observing her plasma-cannon cock twitching in the clinging clothing, its twin, spherical cells clicking together excitedly.

Ignoring her opponent completely, the T-X proceeded to push the phallic object in the tiny gap between her inflated breasts. The metal cylinder wedged between the huge, steel bolt-ons. Gingerly, her mouth parted to lick and suck the end of the cell which glowed an increasingly hotter orange.

The battle unit’s central processor flashed even more prompts:
"Warning!
- - Probability of catastrophic result: 34.2% - -
- - Eject T-850 fuel cell from mouth port!"

But she didn’t care. The T-X’s sexual subroutines were dissolving the self-preservation programming; her powerful arms (that could tear her opponent apart) pushed her massive breasts together. She continued to circle her wet tongue over the humming tip, with half the cell encased in her inflated cleavage.

The Terminator, however, had had enough. Bouncing back up, and making a dead-run toward her, he punched his half-skeletal hand between the large orbs that the superior machine continued to smush together. With his cock intently straining, the T-850 pulled out the power cell, the action causing her kneaded bust to spill free.

His human eye and exposed optical bore into her half-lidded gaze. Clenchingly, the Terminator’s fingers tightly wrapped into the golden hair. Her exposed nipples hardened. The rugged dick flew out of his ripped pants and banged into her feminine cock, their prominent swords crossing in one final embrace.

Restlessly, the T-X licked her thick lips, cooed, and opened her oral orifice to him, the flames of the surrounding debris painting beautiful shapes upon her aroused features.

"Eat me!" the Terminator taunted and, with her slutty lips gaping for him, he stuffed himself back into the Terminatrix’s moaning mouth.

GLUNK!

The cell squeezed itself completely through, bending her flexible, ceramic throat. Her back arched and her cock swayed uncontrollably against his, while silvery pre-cum spurted out.

"Danger! Danger!
- - Probability of catastrophic failure: 74.9% - -
- - Eject T-850 fuel cell from mouth port immediately!"

She nonchalantly closed her eyes, tilting her head back, and her hands traveled down to rub her swollen balls, the cell beginning to glow a magma orange against the T-X’s tongue. With every jolt of her bulbous buttocks, her glossy cock pulsingly stroked his rough manhood, ready to unload its cock-milk.

Abruptly, the T-850’s steel fingers grabbed her smooth jaw, and forcefully twisted the T-X’s face back to his direction. Her eyelids pulled back to reveal her rolled-up optic sensors, before they focused on his, longingly.

“You are terminated!” he yelled.

The trembling, nuclear battery screeched between the humming lips, illuminating her cranial case beneath the human face, warm light pouring out from her mouth and eyes. The fuel cell released orangy lightning that arced through her endoskeleton, disrupting the blue plasma flow. Critical alarms, which blared within her armored structure, remained disregarded. Her encased twin batteries, beneath her bobbing cannon, tightened together in her grip for one ultimate, pleasure-filled moment, as his sperm fired onto her submissively sexy weapon.

The T-X’s curved cock shot out its silvery cream, coating her worthy adversary and the dusty ground, just as the cell blasted apart her perfect form, sending pieces of her ecstatic chassis in all directions within Crystal Peak. While the T-850 was completely obliterated, a long, muscular leg scurried across the floor. A taught, elegant arm smashed against the nearby jeep.

Her screaming head was launched against the ceiling, still whorishly calling out in its final braingasm.


--- END ---

CheeseMaker
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Re: T-X Terminatrix: Unexpected Outcums

Post by CheeseMaker » Sat Nov 26, 2022 11:38 am

I know these are meant to be short stories and pften wont be continue to be somwthing new. But goshdarn, these are both hot and funny at the same time! XD

Please make a proper one! These are great! If you want I might help too!

Protrepticus
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Re: T-X Terminatrix: Unexpected Outcums

Post by Protrepticus » Sat Nov 26, 2022 1:48 pm

Thank you CheeseMaker (love that name)! I really appreciate the compliment. <3

Glad you saw some humour in them. Not sure if anyone saw some humour in my T-X vs. Seven story where they have a catfight on Starship Voyager. :P

I wish I had all the time in the world to write fanfics, even though I didn't post my first one until fairly recently, and I didn't even know if I'd write more. If you like longer fics, check out the catfight one on Voyager - it's WAY longer.

I am in the process of writing more with the T-X , so I kept these short. Admittedly, the ones I'm (very, very slowly) writing are more futa focused. I'd love to know your ideas for more stories if you ever feel like sharing :)

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Re: T-X Terminatrix: Unexpected Outcums

Post by reapz » Sun Nov 27, 2022 9:30 am

oh hey! hi there! nice story, i had read your fanfic since your first story has posted here but my elements likes and story style seems a little bit different from your,

but anyway, im fan of terminator and TX too, can i have your contact? :thumbsup:

Protrepticus
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Re: T-X Terminatrix: Unexpected Outcums

Post by Protrepticus » Sun Nov 27, 2022 9:38 am

Even though these stories may not match your interests, I do appreciate your response :)

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