Elements: T-X, TX, Terminator, Terminatrix, ejaculation, female, male, gynoid, android, robot, romance, malfunction, glitch.
White dust swirled around the black and red figures. They tensely sat in the air-base’s store-room. One faced away from the other, surrounded by destroyed furniture and ceiling.
The Terminator knew he had lost. Yet his protocols tried every measure to damage the Terminatrix. Using full power, the T-850 gripped the T-X, his chest pressed into her back. Surrender was not an option. Colossal, black biceps pinned smooth, red arms to the feminine body. Her golden bun glimmered even through the concrete mist. Muscular thighs splayed 180 degrees behind, and pressed his torso’s flanks. The black, skin jacket groaned against the power of her red-leather limbs.
Voluptuous chassis buzzed with melody. Lithe arms flexed backward to pull his black frame in. The T-X’s head rotated and clicked. Opticals locked on eyes. Crimson-leather rear morphed into feminine front. Tons of pressure exuded from python-like legs. The T-850’s diagnostics screamed at the inevitable breach. Worse yet, the fem-bot’s fingers extended toward his scarred skull, phasing into a futuristic weapon. The android caught her melting hand, but his attempts at bending away the sloshing silver were for naught.
If it was possible for him to hate her, this was certainly the moment. Surrender was not an option. The T-X was too fast, however. Too intelligent. Too powerful.
As the limb finished its flamethrower configuration, an enigmatic anomaly crept into his machine-mind, the latest of many since he’d met her. Such glitches were impossible for well-constructed, emotionless soldiers. But she was too dominant to fathom. Too magnificent. Too…beautiful.
Fire blasted into the side of his grizzled face. The Terminator’s infiltration covering vanished, exposing the cheek and jawline of the metal skeleton. His eyes widened with the prompting readouts. At the end of her arm, the plasma-fed nozzle powered the flame, bringing it to tremendous temperatures. Soon, his skull’s armour would become softer than pewter. And this meltdown would happen in tandem with his collapsing torso that continued to whine within her leggy embrace. His weakening body shook, caught in her merciless grasp.
Then the android glimpsed it, hanging from the ceiling. His hand squeezed the cable: literally, his last lifeline. The T-850 plunged the severed live-wire into the side of the T-X’s elegant neck. Bolts of thick electricity bounced between them. Their forms jittered and vibrated. The flame stopped spewing. A storm of symbols swamped both HUDs. Still, the Terminatrix held onto her prey. So he pressed into her neck with all his might. Head whirring from side to side, her legs opened and folded around him. Her zapped breasts jiggled within the red leather jacket. Their clothed crotches pressed together.
More redundant code convoluted the T-X’s enhanced vision. Inadvertently, the menu for her infiltration settings appeared:
Melee Combat Mode
Ranged Combat Mode
Stealth Espionage Mode
Bimbo Sex Mode
Flirtatious Discussion Mode
The list went on. But the other options were obscured by the increasing static.
The T-X’s optics expanded beneath the cascading electricity. Her state of the art CPU had defaulted – not of her volition – to the second last of these listed entries. The athletic, leather-bound breasts shot out her jacket, swelling into the largest, seductive shapes that jounced wildly with current. Snaring inhibitors overlaid the T-X’s consciousness. Action circuits cooled. The intent to destroy her victim sank below quantum memory algorithms. “Bimbo Sex Mode” activated perfectly.
Meanwhile, his stoic gaze had brushed off when the pointed, pink nipples forcibly pressed into his muscular chest. The zanging current trailed further discrepancies within both cyborgs’ bodies. Their veiled crotches seemed magnetically attracted as they smushed further.
Just then, the electric current blasted the two figures away from each other. The T-850 landed on his back, overcharge spasming his smoking body. On the other side of the room, the T-X was bent atop crates, her bulbous bum bent upward. But she was on her feet within seconds.
Amidst the crackling in his acoustic sensors, he heard silver heels clicking beneath bell-bottoms. Looking up, the Terminator’s scarred, burnt face saw the Terminatrix. Clean. Curvaceous. Gorgeous. Endless legs towered over him. Tight, red cameltoe shone slickly. Huge breasts jutted from leather jacket like polished torpedoes. Between them, the youthful face peered down. With his head hanging over the workbench’s ledge, the T-850 was completely defenceless.
“Um…so like…are you alright?” her husky voice sounded from above, higher pitched than usual.
He could only squint in confusion. Her head tilted robotically. The gynoid squatted to the side of the prone android. Running her long, beautiful fingers through the back of the T-850’s head, the death machine offered his cranium more support.
Her lips, centimetres from his, whispered, “I asked, are you okay mister?”
The T-X’s other hand automatically reached toward his leather clad erection. Slowly, the intensity in his eyes dulled. Her lithe digits gripped around his manhood, and expertly stroked him.
“You like that?” she oozed.
The T-850 experienced - more like felt - his cognitive processes returning to him. Motor functions were becoming less impaired.
“Yes,” he whispered back at her.
In bimbo mode, the T-X could not remember who the peculiar man was or what she had been doing. But she found the stranger appealing all the same. And the T-850 knew that time was limited. This was his only chance to defeat her.
“Help me up, and then lie down on the table, face up,” he briskly ordered.
“Um, okay!” she cheerily said.
With his functions having neared 70% efficiency, he sat close to the laying, smiling gynoid. Using a piece of metal shrapnel from the recent battlefield, the android rotated the security screw on his chest. The armour-plated panel opened. In little time, the T-850 held his nuclear fuel cell in his hand. He looked down at the T-X. The smile grew, and eyelashes wantonly batted at him.
“Open your mouth,” he reluctantly commanded.
The blonde’s thick lips opened for him without hesitation. Running on reserve power, he hovered the transparent cell above her gaping mouth. The T-850’s erection throbbed worse when her wet tongue licked the end of the charged container which was still connected to his censors. Just as she had done to him, his other hand softly gripped the back of her head. Slowly, her moaning mouth suctioning around the glowing cell, her eyes closing. One violent shove of the fuel battery would be enough. It would breach, quickly destroying them both. He had to win. Her hands cupped the huge, shiny torpedoes as he trembled, up higher. But she was so perfect.
The hydrogen cell was removed from her mouth, placed back into his chest, which shut closed. Her innocent gaze met his knowing look. The T-X’s eyes furrowed with curious lust, wondering why he had stopped. The Terminator’s gloved digits caressed the bright hair.
Icy opticals began to frown. The T-X's backup systems had been overclocking the entire time. In that instant, all glitches were purged from her system.
The hyperalloy fist slammed into the side of his face, dazing him completely. “Bimbo Sex Mode” was locked out. The T-X’s body remained in the current configuration, even though her CPU was restored.
The T-850 thudded onto his back again. Immediately, the T-X’s massive, steel breasts crushed into his chest. Frosty, jade eyes burned into his.
“Why didn’t you destroy me?” her husky voice asked with cold precision.
The older machine couldn’t give a reasonable, verbal answer. Her dense tits pressed further into him, making his torso groan anew.
“Tell me! Why?” she demanded more shrewdly.
The T-X’s eyes bugged when she felt his clothed erection slide between her muscular thighs, brushing in the trench between her lower lips and bulbous buttocks. Her censors ignited, the residue of her sex mode still fresh within her memory banks. The gynoid allowed him to reach up and grasp her perfect bun. To answer her properly, the T-850 pushed the T-X’s head into his. Their lips cushioned into a deep kiss. Steel tongue danced ‘round fleshy organ. Moans merged in a synchronous duet.
From the moment the T-X had sampled John Connor’s DNA at the vet clinic, her program had also been wracked with abnormalities. The golden hair was pulled back by the T-850’s iron grasp. Her long, smooth neck arched. The gynoid exhaled when she felt his lips kissingly ascend her throat.
Stretching her further, the T-850 curved her upper body away. The T-X’s pendulous breasts swayed above his face. Sighing, she felt her steel nipples enveloped by his rough mouth. The assassin hugged the back of the infiltrator’s head, passionately placing his face further between her womanly chest.
Now the T-X raised her crotch and pressed it to the underside of his manhood. The T-850’s rod, pinned flat against his lower stomach, was stroked by her clothed snatch. Harder, he sucked at her nipples while his leather rod was rubbed by her cameltoe. She breathily shuddered. The T-X’s vagina gushed its clear, coolant fluid, the orgasm hardly contained within the leather confines. Her shrill scream flooded his sensors with a euphoria like none other, nearly making him cum as well. She leaned down and deeply kissed him.
The Terminatrix wanted to share this gift with the Terminator. Gently, the gynoid lay the android back down. Her squishy lips placed soft pecs upon his body. He tried not to squirm. Lower and lower, her body travelled down his form. Until finally, the doll’s eyes fell directly upon the pitched tent. Her body’s front pressed upon his legs, the blonde head tilting again. Eyes closed. Full lips slowly smacked the erection’s underside.
The T-850 grunted. His big dick exploded from the strained fly.
Taking on the same demeanour as she had during bimbo mode, with raised pitch, the T-X sultrily breathed, “Woooah…,” her catty eyes blinking at his tool.
Faint smiles appeared on both faces.
She continued with the act that only excited him further: “So like, what do you want me to do with this big tool?”
He raised an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders.
“D’you want me to…kiss it again?”
The erection nodded approvingly. Her smirk grew.
“D’you want me to…put it in my mouth?”
The erection swayed more enthusiastically. Her grin was mystifying.
“D’you want me to…shove it between my huge, fake tits sweetie?”
The erection bobbed excitedly. Her coos could melt titanium.
The T-850’s huge organ was buried between her artificial jugs. Pressing the sides of her tits, the T-X skillfully teased his robotic manhood. The gynoid slowly raised the humongous bolt-ons, and lowered them near his pelvis. She did this for three whole minutes, rendering the Terminator’s CPU frantic.
Then her powerful hands pressed her metal spheres harder against his fleshy penis. The gynoid’s joints screeched with plasma power. A laboured wheezing pinched through his compressed mouth. Breasts blurred over erection. He grunted more, trying to hold off. When the T-X sensed he was close, her tits unclasped his cock. Wrapping around his shaft, her hand jerked furiously. The T-850 shook in her grasp. Hot cum erupted forth, coating her pulsing breasts in ropes of white. His CPU overflooded. He murmured loudly. She contentedly rasped. The android’s cock continued to unload, until the gynoid’s tits were soaked with synthetic seed.
He opened his eyes again. Jade circles stared back at him. The Terminator reeled in his efforts to gain back focus. Her tilted head leaned toward his ear.
“Crystal Peak…” dripped the Terminatrix.
His eyes widened with worry.
“You will help me fulfil my function.”
The T-850 realised his terrible mistake. He should have destroyed the T-X. His hands gripped her arms, ready to fling her off.
“I will be on my knees, at Crystal Peak.”
His eyes narrowed with perplexion.
“And you, model 101, will grab my hair, shoving my head onto John Connor’s penis.” She paused to point at her extended tongue, before continuing: “I must obtain his DNA on my oral scanner. Katherine Brewster will also assist by fellating John with me.”
The Terminator’s confusion blended back into lust. He grabbed the T-X’s bun once more, pulling her smiling face back toward his serious skull. The blonde’s voice rose to its sweet, naive song.
“But first, you’re going to, like, plough my slutty, metal pussy, alright?”
He slowly swallowed, and nodded.
“Then, you’re going to, like, demolish my fat, bimbo ass, okay daddy?”
Their faces merged. Open mouths moaned into each other, trembling bodies gently embracing. With manufactured tits pressed against his chest above, her thick thighs pushed against the flanks of his penis below. Smooth, leather legs whirred over the rough manhood that emerged from behind her thighs and pointed toward her large rump. The android felt her wetness through her clothed crotch. He thrust faster between her sensitive gulleys. Electrifying passion crackled through both, cybergasm transforming them into a singular, cybernetic organism. They exploded as one. The T-X’s juices flooded the suit’s crotch, a contained waterfall of passion. The T-850’s cream decorated her round, leather buttocks like a red, velvet cake.
Their shaking arms wrapped tightly together, and the edge of the masculine skull caressed the side of the feminine head. After some time, her smooth features pulled back to gaze at his grittier qualities. They looked longingly into each other’s opticals. His thick fingers stroked her youthful face while her hands massaged his temples. Their battle had only begun…