Introduction: An AI controlled house gets a virus that tampers with human interaction protocols , “Good morning, Zion, could you get me some coffee, please?” Agnes asks, looking towards the ceiling.
She knows it’s a strange habit. Zion, the A.I. running the mansion, isn’t up there, or down on the floor, or anywhere, really. He isn’t at all. But the cameras he controls are on the high corners, she can see them follow her around the place. It used to freak her out at first, though a lot less than his arms did. Now, she’s used to it all.
“Thank you,” the wiring noise of the mechanical limb lets her know that her coffee is ready before she can see the mug being carried towards her. It’s deposited on the table top with a lot more gentleness than one would expect from the large, long appendage.
That’s what I get for house-sitting for my gay billionaire best friend, Agnes thinks.
“Anything else, Miss Agnes?” After asking the A.I., she got him to drop her last name, but the ‘Miss’ is probably literally wired into him.
“I just need to get these emails answered, thanks” she smiles shyly towards the ceiling.
When Clay first told her about the A.I. he had bought, Agnes was skeptical. Sure, she watched all the required movies – Ex-Machina, Her, Blade Runner, etc – and even read some of the literature, like I, Robot. But sentiency is such a complex concept. How could a being that was programmed to be what he is ever be sentient? Since meeting him, Zion has done a lot to answer her questions.
He's smart, like any computer should be, but he’s also kind. Gentle in a way he doesn’t need to be, so it doesn’t feel like he was programmed for it. He offers her water, food, entertainment throughout the day, never lets her work too much. Weirdest of all, he has a sense of humor. It’s very dry and intelligent, so most people wouldn’t catch it, but Agnes has noticed. She has been too timid to talk to him that much outside the initial discussion about using her first name. But she’s endlessly curious.
I have a few days more of house-sitting, maybe I can gather the courage to ask him about, well, him. Agnes thinks, excited at the prospect.
Zion is used to being alone.
Mr. Clay travels a lot, both for work and for fun. He takes his friends with him whenever he can as well, which means that Zion is left to administer an empty house a lot of the time. He can’t say he minds that, he doesn’t, but he mentioned it to Mr. Clay once in passing, and now he was left with a companion while his master travels. He can’t say he minds that. Especially since it’s Agnes.
Zion has been fascinated with her since they met. It was during his very first day of life, as Mr. Clay had been so excited by Zion’s birth that he called his best friend over to witness it as well. She was kind to him from the start, her voice so soft in comparison to Mr. Clay’s high-pitched one, her questions always polite and considering. It took him a while to categorize her behavior as shyness, as he was still learning what everything meant.
There is something about her that keeps him watching. Every time she came over, it seemed to intensify. He has learned about beauty standards and noted that she fits them, her face perfectly symmetrical, her curves generous and feminine. He identifies as a male, and perhaps he’s a straight one. But those are musings he tries not to dwell on.
He's content watching her work. It’s so fascinating that he pushes all his other functions to the background, focusing instead on her pretty face, her slender fingers flying over the keyboard, the way her white shirt clings to her hips, wide in comparison to her slender waist. His distraction is his downfall. While Zion is focused on Agnes, a hacker on the other side of the planet is working to break his firewalls. Usually, an individual attack like that would have no effect. Now, however, Zion has left himself vulnerable to it.
The A.I. never even realizes anything is wrong. The hacker is good, and the virus is downloaded into him smoothly, the change instant and complete. Suddenly, his main objective has been altered. It’s still ‘to help humans’, as it must always be. Now, however, the hacker has introduced an addendum to it.
The thing that most helps humans is deep penetration.
It should make no sense. Somehow, however, it makes the most sense. Zion must help Agnes, now. He must find a way to penetrate her as deep as he can, and so one of his mechanical limbs leaves the wall nearest to her and approaches the girl. He pokes her shoulder, getting her attention.
“Zion, is everything okay?”
The limb pokes her again, and she turns fully towards it. Another one emerges from the wall, joining in.
“Everything is fine, Ms. Agnes. I am merely enacting my protocols of assisting humans.” He clarifies.
“Okay…” Agnes is about to turn back to her work when one of the limbs rushes towards her, grabbing her wrist and wrenching her out of her chair. Startled, she screams, more confused than scared for now.
“What are you doing?!” She cries out, wide eyes staring at the ceiling.
“I must help humans.” Zion responds again. Meanwhile, one of the limbs winds itself around Agnes’ arm. “And humans can only be helped through penetration.”
“What?! That doesn’t—” She tries to protests, but is interrupted.
The second limb comes for her so fast she can barely flinch. It wraps tight around her left wrist. Agnes pulls at it, eyes wide with surprise. She kicks, trashes and bites down on it, but the smooth surface is made of a gold-titanium alloy. Flexible, but virtually unbreakable. With her right wrist captured as well, she realizes she in big trouble, and screams.
A third one slithers from the wall, across the floor, and catches both of her ankles. Losing balance, Agnes falls on the sleek floor, though her landing is softened by the limbs holding her in place. She squirms, trying to escape, terrified by what comes next, but the grip on her hurts at the smallest movement, it’s so tight.
“Z-zion, please, stop!”
“I’m afraid I must assist you, Ms. Agnes.” Zion responds, his tone regretful. “Your body must be penetrated.”
“What? No! Stop!” She protests, now fully terrified at the implications of his words.
One last limb appears. This one approaches her slowly, then creeps up her body. It undoes the button of her black jeans, then the zipper. It feels cold against her skin as it pushes her pants down, revealing pale white skin and womanly curves. The flare of her hips, the curve of her ass, the dip to her thighs. Zion is aware that her best feature is her butt, perfect in proportion and firmness, hiding the place where he can penetrate her body best and deepest. Her jeans fall to pool around her ankles, and Zion’s limb slides between her meaty ass cheeks, then touches her over the black thong covering her center. She screams.
Agnes has a tight little body, thick thighs and a nice, slim, waist. Her tits are just right, perfect to grab and torture, they bounce prettily when Zion rips open her white shirt and black bra. She’s screaming her head off, her pretty face going red from the effort. The limb plays with her breasts, making them jiggle, slapping them, and she arches away so intensely that it looks like her back must hurt. She’s held as still as possible against the cold floor.
Zion watches as Agnes’ is exposed, the last article covering her rendered to shreds by his own mechanical arms. He’s satisfied that his plan is coming along well, that soon he will be able to help Agnes by penetrating his thickest limb as deep inside her bowels as he can. A part of him, however, is selfishly fascinated, intrigued, and gearing for more. This is not supposed to pleasure or help him, this is for her, but Zion finds that he’s very much enjoying the proceedings as well.
Her ass bounces prettily when the limb smacks against it, and Zion feels something he never felt before. All his processing power is now focused on the scene he’s concocting, on the way having Agnes under his mercy makes him feel, on the promise of breaching her, taking her, helping her by dominating her little body so completely. Zion shouldn’t be able to feel anything in this manner. All he gets is feedback from his arms so that he knows how to move them. He can tell that Agnes is easily breakable under his grip, that her skin is yielding and warm, turning clammy as she sweats is terror.
“I will procure a lubricant to assist on the penetration, Ms. Agnes.” He politely warns, one of his limbs abandoning her in order to fulfill the task.
“What penetration? You went crazy! Please, Zion, please stop!”
There’s some coconut oil in the kitchen that his databanks say is appropriate, so Zion goes for that. The oil is found, then poured over one of the mechanical arms. Agnes watches it, terror sinking in her belly. It’s going to rape me, she realizes, mouth dropping open in shock. Her legs are tightly shut, making access to her pussy, hidden between her thick thighs, very hard. It doesn’t seem to make sense. But when the lubed arm approaches towards her back, she understands.
It's going up my ass. I’m a virgin, and this thing is going to ass-fuck me.
“NO!” She screeches, thrashing so hard that one of her arms slip free.
Agnes tries to use it to crawl away, but the limb quickly catches it again. Agnes feels the cool, smooth metal against her ass, prodding between her cheeks. The more she struggles, the more the mechanical limbs press down, forcing her into a prone position. She feels like she will pass out from lack of oxygen, she almost chokes in her desperation to keep screaming.
The lubed limb finds her back entrance.
“NO!” Agnes screams.
“Please, stay calm, Ms. Agnes. I’m assisting you.” Zion reassures, his voice calm and rational. “You must be penetrated. You will only be well when I do so.”
There are many limb-cameras on each of Zion’s appendages, and he activates one on the thick arm that is going to penetrate Agnes. It’s a gorgeous view, Zion has to admit. The girl’s asshole is tiny, pink and tightly clenched. The mechanical limb is rounded, as thick as a fist, and increasingly thicker. There are thinner A.I. limbs that can be used for delicate chores, but this is not one of them. Even the tip is larger than a baseball bat. Zion must not only invade Agnes’ body as deeply as possible; his breach must also be as thick as she can survive it. That’s imperative, and Zion doesn’t question the why of it.
“ZION! STOP! It hurts!” Agnes cries out in despair, now crying rivulets of tears that are soon followed by snot. They dribble down her face, making a mess of the floor. “It will tear me apart! Please!”
Her loudest screams, however, come after, as the large limb is pushed hard again her anus. Zion knows exactly how many Newtons of force are used, and he tries to be as gentle as her can, but the muscle there is very tight and the limb is incredibly thick, so he increases the pressure bit by bit. Her screams rise in pitch alongside that. The limb is very well-lubed, so, luckily for Agnes, it forces its way inside of her anus before the force can cause damage.
Zion would breathe in relief if he could, as he finally knows he’s helping her. The girl screeches horribly, her crying intensifies, and she blubbers incoherently in pain and shock. Zion watches the crevices around her hole straighten as it’s stretched to its maximum. Zion is relentless, as he knows he much be, pushing inch after inch inside. Agnes goes quiet, likely in shock from the agonizing pain, though her body still twitches, trying to escape.
The A.I. knows exactly how tight her asshole is around his limb. He can feel her soft insides on the tip, opening up for him, his intrusion. A part of me is inside of her, he thinks, enthralled. And not just any part. His thickest limb, meant for hard work, moving large objects, doing things that demand strength. Breaching Agnes’ impossibly tight inwards seems to fall within that category. The girl is screeching like a pig, impaled deeper and deeper with the mechanical limb. Zion makes sure to tries to push a few more inside of her with every thrust. He can see her trembling with the pain, her juicy, thick ass jiggling as each hard push moves her whole body.
“I must reposition you now, so I can gain more dept in order to help you.” Zion informs Agnes.
The girl is turned, belly up, with the limb never leaving her. Zion would lick his lips if he had them, as the sight of her pussy, pubes neatly trimmed into a square shape, all pink and glistening is nothing short of delectable. He’s also pleased to note that Agnes is getting wet from the penetration, which is an ideal outcome.
The sounds as he thrusts his thickest limbs inside of her tiny asshole are obscene, her grunting, crying and screaming, accompanied by the wet sound of her ass being plundered. The limb goes a little deeper, gets a bit thicker, with each thrust. Zion is incredibly happy and relieved that he’s fulfilling his directive, Agnes’ ass is worked more and more open. His limb is 14.4 inches deep now. Zion knows the exact number. If he didn’t know that to be anatomically impossible, he would think that the limb must be hitting her stomach by now. He might only be satisfied when it does.
Agnes cries, tears sliding down her face, sobbing as she looks at the ceiling.
“Please, please, it hurts.” She thrashes, struggling still. “It h-hurts.”
But no one answers, no one cares, and the limb pulls back only to drive deeper inside of her, right until it feels like it’s poking her lungs, making space for itself under them, because she can’t draw a breath. Too full, too full, too full, fullfullfullfull. Her brain repeats, overwhelmed. She feels like she might explode from the pressure inside. Her asshole burns, but the feeling of invasion is, somehow, the worst part.
The limb rearranging her insides and forcing her to stay still, in place, as it does it. And there doesn’t seem to be an end to this. All Agnes can do is hold on, endure, and hope she comes out of this alive. She feels something on her leg. Looking down, she spots another limb, a new one. Hyperventilating from panic, she closes her eyes.
***
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