Wedding Night - Part 03

[Aki]

The suite was quiet once Annie slipped away. Dahlia let the door shut, then exhaled and stretched out across the bed. She should have been checking her systems, running diagnostics after the long day, but she didn’t, at least not consciously.

She lay on her back like any bride might, hair spilling across the pillow, watching the ceiling and letting her mind wander freely.

She thought of Damian in the shower, rinsing away the reception’s chaos, and felt a private impatience. He was hers now — no more guests, no more interruptions. Just them. She smiled faintly, wishing he would hurry up.

Her thoughts drifted further, into daydreams of their future together. The trips they might take, the home they might share.

She imagined his hand warm on her stomach, the way her human friends had described, that unspoken promise of children. The ache came with it, sharp and familiar: she could never give him that. She would never know the slow miracle of life growing inside her.

She pressed the heel of her hand against her belly, closing her eyes. But I can have this, she told herself, focusing on her lower belly where the new buffer cavity waited. I can hold him inside me. Tonight, I can feel that.

The sound of water cut off in the bathroom. Dahlia lifted her head from the pillow, excitement building with anticipation, and she slipped into the perfect pose for Damian to see.

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Steam curled from the bathroom as Damian stepped out, towel hanging low on his hips. Droplets trailed down his chest, catching in the faint lines of muscle before slipping lower. He raked a hand through his wet hair, eyes lifting to find her.

“You ready?”

Dahlia was already stretched naked across the bed, poised perfectly. Her head propped on one palm, her other hand resting on her hip, her full shape on display. She let her hair spill back over her shoulder as she lifted her head lazily, responding with a teasing “Are you?”

He smiled and moved toward her. She caught him with one palm against his chest, halting him as she repositioned gracefully, then pushed him back until his spine met the pillows. Surprise flickered in his expression, then softened, acceptance in his eyes as she climbed and planted her knees astride him. She reached down to stroke his length, planting kisses on his chest and working up until her mouth met his.

As his cock rose to rock-hard attention, she paused and brought both arms to his shoulders, then lowered herself slowly, her slick entrance teasing the tip of his cock.

Damian moaned and bucked his hips reflexively, but she moved her hips up and out of the way.

“Not yet, darling.”

She leaned in for another deep kiss, and as their mouths melted together, tongues duelling, she sank onto him achingly slowly, the crown of his cock pushing past her entrance – pressure building, the ridge catching against her inner rim before sliding deeper. The stretch made her breath hitch involuntarily.

His head fell back against the headboard. “God… you feel different tonight. Tighter than I remember.” His hands closed around her hips, gentle, careful – almost reverent, she thought. “Like you’re a virgin again.” He whispered.

She smiled and began to move, rolling her hips in a steady rhythm. “Just your imagination,” she whispered. “My every curve, every module, and every feature—was and is built to please you.”

Damian groaned, hips rising to meet hers as they frantically slapped against each other.

She leaned forward, hair brushing against his cheek, voice dark with invitation. “Every part of me is calibrated for your maximum pleasure.”

“Use me.” She continued, purring, “I want to feel used. I need to.”

Damian responded with a grunt as he thrust with increased vigor.

“Tell me what you are.” Damian muttered, thrusting.

“I’m your wife. Your robot. Yours.” She moaned. “Your fuck-toy.”

Dahlia caught him wincing at the word robot. She knew he didn’t like it when she referred to herself that way. He thinks it’s degrading. But her worry faded to give way to relief as his empowered thrusts pounded into her at the word fuck-toy.

Hypocrite. She smiled to herself, as Damian pounded into her with ferocity.

Dahlia braced herself as their rhythm quickened. This was the moment she had dreamed of. The indulgence she had bought for herself, for them, for tonight. She remembered her colleagues laughing in hushed voices about “accidents,” about trying for babies, about the ache of fullness after a night with their men. She had smiled along, pretending she understood, while envy burned quietly inside.

That was why she had paid for the upgrade — the cavity, the valve. She wanted to know that feeling, to hold him inside her, to share in the impossible human bliss she had heard described with conspiratorial delight.

Her thighs trembled, walls locking tighter as her own climax crested. Damian gasped beneath her, release imminent. She clutched him deeper, bracing to receive him. She tensed, waiting for the muted click, the valve opening, the warm surge flooding the cavity she’d carved for this exact moment.

Nothing.

There was no valve. The buffer cavity remained barren.

The truth cut sharp and sudden. In the rush to help Annie, she forgot, this wasn’t her state-of-the-art sex module at all. This was Annie’s old module: sealed, valveless, self-contained. Her cavity waited uselessly, empty and longing, while Damian groaned and shuddered in climax, spilling into the self-contained sex.

The hollowness struck like a blow, just as waves of muted pleasure hit her processors. All her time, her effort, her money, her anticipation — wasted in an instant.

Her body tensed hard with the realization, thighs clamping around him. Damian groaned louder at the sudden grip, misreading it entirely. “That felt good, huh?” His voice was ragged with pleasure, smiling faintly as he caught her eyes.

Dahlia forced a smile, leaned in close, and whispered against his lips. “You were perfect.” I wasn’t.

She kissed him then – fiercely – sensation and desire drowning out the hollowness she felt within. He groaned into her mouth.

She held him close until his breathing slowed, masking the ache that hollowed her from the inside out.

They lay tangled together in the aftermath, her synthetic skin cooling where perspiration had gathered at her temples and the small of her back. His breathing slowed against her hair, deep and even, while hers remained perfectly measured—unnecessary, but the habit of appearing human ran deep.

The room settled into silence, broken only by the faint rustle of sheets and the distant hum of the hotel's climate system.

She let herself drift, weightless in the quiet.

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Damian’s arm came around her shoulders, pulling her close, lips brushing her hair. He relaxed as she let her cheek rest against his chest, listening to the steady drum of his heart, trying to lose herself in the warmth.

For a moment, it felt whole. Human. The ache of her own disappointment dulled, smoothed by the weight of his body and the scent of his skin. She closed her eyes and let herself drink in the moment, as though time had slowed just for them.

His fingers traced idle patterns on and around her stomach, then paused at a muted seam – barely visible, perfectly concealed beneath her skin. He pressed it gently, feeling the edges of her chassis beneath the warmth. Dahlia loved it when he explored her body this way, but she’d never admit it. She felt him harden again against her thigh.

That was when the alert cut across her vision.

<Unit DH-X62 malfunction detected. Awaiting soft reboot.>

Her breath stalled. Annie.

A flicker of resentment hit first, hot and unfair — if not for Annie, she would have had the wedding night she wanted, the fullness she had bought and longed for, instead her body remained hollow as ever. But concern overwhelmed her almost instantly. Annie broke down, maybe the lack of maintenance caught up with her after all.

“Damian. Something happened to Annie. I need to go check on her.” Dahlia said, rising.

But Damian held on to her. “Don’t worry sweetheart, Annie’s fine.”

Dahlia tensed. “How do you know?”

“Well, isn’t Lucas with her? He’ll take care of her.”

Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think Lucas didn’t freak out and run away after seeing his dream girl malfunction and collapse like a cheap robot?”

“Android.” Damian corrected. “You know androids aren't rare, right? Even realistically human ones, Stage 3s and Stage 4s like you.” Damian hesitated before adding. “… and Annie.”

“I still don’t think it’s normal for people to keep calm when they discover the human they’re fucking suddenly turns out to be a ro.. an android.” She said.

Damian caught her eyes, then dodged her gaze, blurting, “Lucas has a thing for androids.”

“What?” She blinked. “You mean for… for what we are?” Her voice carried an edge he couldn’t quite read – amusement, maybe something more complicated. “He’s turned on by… us not being exactly human?”

Damian laughed. “Well yes.”

<Unit DH-X62 soft reboot initiated. Reboot successful.>

Dahlia internally logged her relief; Lucas can be trusted after all.

Then she smirked at Damian, mischievous. “And you? What about your… preferences?”

Damian hesitated, and that was all Dahlia needed.

Dahlia slid off him and moved before he could decide on an answer. Her body stiffened deliberately, posture locking into neat mechanical alignment. Her movements stiff and precise, unnatural. Damian blinked, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and recognition, as she sat up in a one motion and swung her legs off the bed.

She stood, spine straight, head level, limbs locked at stiff angles. The shift in her voice came cold and flat. “Error,” she intoned. “Malfunction. Logic. Matrix. Buffer. Corrupted. User. Assistance. Required.”

“Dahlia… what’s happening?” he asked, half-alarmed, half-smiling.

“Error,” she repeated, walking to the dresser stiffly. She placed her palms on the polished wood, feet planted apart, and leaned forward mechanically. Her back arched just enough to make the pose unmistakable. “Malfunction,” she said again, in monotone. “Please. Insert. Probe. And. Trouble-shoot.”

“Seriously?”

She tilted her head slightly, and a small break lined her softening face, eyes glinting with mischief before the mask of blankness slid back in place.
Damian caught it and seemed to understand. His exhaustion appeared to evaporate. He rose, the bed sighing under his weight, and came around behind her. His hands hovered a moment at her hips before settling, testing the stiffness of her posture. “You aren’t serious,” he chuckled, but his voice had thickened with arousal.

“Awaiting. Input,” she said, staring blankly into the mirror ahead, posture perfect.

He brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. “Fine, let me… troubleshoot you.”

His hands traced down her sides, finding the familiar warmth. She didn’t move an inch. Her stillness made her feel more like sculpture than skin, her breathing was impossibly even. The angle was perfect and when he slid inside her, the moan that escaped her was clipped, deliberate – sounding like playback more than a natural reaction.

“Probe. Detected.” She said softly, monotone holding even as her fingers flexed against the dresser’s surface.

He started with slow, smooth strokes, testing her range. She held rigid – spine locked, hips angled precisely, no give in her legs. Each thrust she met with calculated counter-pressure, her walls flexing in exact rhythm, no variation, automatic.

Dahlia stared ahead, catching his face in the mirror. He stared back, his breath quickening, expression tight. Her mask of blankness seemed to be doing a number on him, she chuckled internally.

She announced again, evenly spaced between breaths.

“Sequence. One… engaged… Identifying. Errors…”

He gripped her hips tighter. “You’re something else.”

“Calculating… Unable. To. Generate. Response…” She said as she bucked her hips against him, resuming her clipped moaning.

He pressed deeper, harder. Each push drove a small sound out of her – first measured, then subtly fractured, her humanity peaking from underneath.

“Errors. Identified… Beginning sequence two… Resolving errors…” Her pitch wavered, no longer fully monotone.

He bent forward, chest against her back. “You’re slipping.” He mused.

Her breath caught. “Correction… systems… stabilizing…”

Fluidity slowly returned to her form as her control faltered. Her hips began to move on their own accord, pressing back to meet him greedily, the mechanical poise breaking down into something human and desperate.

Her reflection in the mirror painted a picture – her lips parting, lashes lowering, face starting to melt into pleasure. Her sounds shifted with it, no longer clipped, now breathy and raw.

He drove into her again, rougher, breath coming ragged now. She gasped, “Ah-ahh!”, voice fraying slightly between monotone and the cadence of real pleasure.

“Clear… Clearing… err-ah!”

Her sentence dissolved into a human sound, a half-moan, half-laugh. She gripped the edge of the dresser for balance, her reflection now flushed and alive. Each thrust seemed to rewrite her, reminding her body what a human soul was.

Her body shuddered with each motion, the pretence unravelling, the tone smoothing into perfectly breathy syllables. Her muscles tightened around him, and he responded by slowing slightly, holding her there. She caught him watching her reflection intently, saw the moment he registered her mask finally breaking.

Her next words came unfiltered, natural, soft with exhaustion and emotion.

“Did you… like that?”

Damian’s response was to drive powerfully into her. The intensity caught her off-guard, and her gasp came out as static nonsense. Dahlia felt Damian’s tip tense inside her as her voice broke.

Oh, he loves this. She thought.

“I can’t – I can’t hold back anymore,” he said, voice breaking between strain and awe.

Dahlia peered at him through the mirror, her lashes dipped, expression softening into something unguarded, almost helpless, “Then don’t hold back,” she whispered, begging, “Finish me.”

He moved with sudden urgency, hands firm on her hips, the room filled with the wet sound of their bodies moving with immediate purpose. She cried out as his tip began the unmistakable twitch of climax, her own peak on-rushing.

He drew a length one last time before he pushed in – harder than he intended. Dahlia’s body rocked forward with the force, and a dull thud rang through the room as her head slammed against the dresser. Sensing the opportunity, she froze her movement. He tried to stop but was unable to as he spilled and spilled into her.

“Dahlia,” he gasped, breathless, “Are you ok?”

Silence.

Her face in the mirror was a contortion of stilled pleasure, the edge of her eyes twitching. Her shoulder jerked, then her neck. When she spoke, her voice was a tangled mess of a malfunctioning voice box.

“E-e-error… im-im-impact d-d-detected cran-ial… m-m-module… d-d-damaged…”

Her limbs locked – right arm jerking upward, left leg spasming – then loosened in erratic waves. Her eyes unfocused, pupils dilating unevenly. A tremor ran through her jaw.

“Dahlia! Hey!” She saw his panic bleed out as his hands hovered, afraid to touch her, maybe, afraid to make it worse.

She twitched again, a shiver running through her as if caught between states.

“D-d-damage d-damage… Sh-Shutting down…” She exhaled, her body relaxing as if her soul is evaporating, limp and pressed against the dresser as she slid down to the floor.

Damian caught her body before her knees hit the ground, his hands shaking.

His breath came shallow, panicked. She felt his pulse hammering against her skin where he held her.

Dahlia let another second pass torturously before she relaxed and turned her head towards him, grinning widely.

“Surely,” She said, voice back to its usual warmth, “you knew I could take more than that?”

Damian blinked, half-relief, half-disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.” he muttered, torn between laughter and embarrassment. But he didn’t let go.

She laughed softly, turning in his arms, warm and flushed and whole. She kissed him, still grinning, tasting his embarrassment and relief. He held her tight, breath evening out against her hair, and for a moment the world narrowed to just the two of them—skin and warmth and the quiet hum of contentment.

Then the alerts sliced across her vision like daggers, and the grin died on her lips:

<Unit DH-X62 severe malfunction detected. System failure. Meltdown imminent.>

Annie. Her body went rigid. Another alert, worse:

<Unit DH-X62 power core non-functional. Unit offline.>

The warmth drained out of her in an instant – skin cooling, pulse flattening, every system pivoting toward the crisis. Her face went pale, the playfulness vanishing as though it had never existed.

She looked at Damian, voice thin and breaking. “Something’s happened. Annie. It’s serious.”

Damian opened his mouth to reassure – but it died when he saw her trembling eyes. His expression changed.


To be continued...

[forenuser]

Hi there!

I like that Story and cannot wait for further parts.
I find it quite interesting that Bots forget things like what module is installed. And i feel a bit sorry for Annie.


With kind regards
forenuser

[azure]

thank you so much for this story!! I totally like where this is going.....