Demoted To The Mechanical Nursery Chapter Nineteen (Patreon)

I know I said I wanted to wrap this up in just one more installment, but it was shaping up to be really long, so I decided to break it up into smaller pieces. I'm hoping to get it done in just one more chapter, but I may need another part to wrap it up (maybe just a little epilogue.) There's not going to be any more voting from this point out, but don't worry... the first part of the superheroine story will be ready to post next week... and for those of you in the Art Appreciation tier, I'm currently trying to put together a little treat that ties into it, so stay tuned. As always, if you're enjoying the story and you want to see more like it then don't forget to hit the like button and leave a comment below.

“It’s not possible,” Megan Simmons whispered to herself, scanning the report with an increasing sense of paranoid vertigo. She had, of course, made her own adjustments to the AI system, wrote new code that should have eliminated herself as a potential candidate, even gone as far as to remove her record from it’s memory entirely...  how could it know so much about her?

Subject intends to use the program to satisfy her own deeply repressed infantilist fantasies, read one section. Subject continues to masturbate at her work station, she read, her face flaring bright red, and on several occasions, removed at least 90% of her clothing to do so.  Megan read on, scanning the document with sweat trickling down her forehead; Subject’s increasing sadism towards the residents of the nursery is marked by an increased use of adult protective undergarments... subject now uses an average of three of these undergarments a day and switches to a thicker brand of diaper at night, it wrote, chilling her to the bone-- how could it know what she did outside the office?

     Frantic, Simmons fingers flashed across the keyboard... she had to get rid of the report first; it wouldn’t do to have Mr. Milken and the rest of the board discovering what she’d been up to. Her blood turned to ice when she realized she’d been frozen out of the system. “‘Access suspended’?!” she uttered, shocked... how could it lock her out with her knowledge? She made another effort to force her way in... but the screen suddenly died, staring back at her like a big black eye.

     Her next option was fleeing the scene. She hated the idea of resigning... of losing the project, not to mention the possible liability she’d opened herself up to if anyone found out what she’d really been up to with Ashley, Monica, and Becky...

I can start over, she thought, mind racing as she tugged her clothes on quickly, stumbling towards the elevator. Drop out, get a new identity... start fresh. She had copies of all the plans and blueprints... it would be easy enough to go to some other country where the laws were more forgiving and try again... all she really needed was--

     The room went dark, the power dying. Megan hit the call button repeatedly, to no avail. The only source of light left in the command center was coming through the large two-way window looking in on the nursery, bathing the room in an eerie glow. Suddenly fearful, she turned in place, looking frantically for a way out.

     Ms. Simmons elicited a piercing scream when the window suddenly exploded inward, turning and covering her face from the glass that showered the room. She looked up and saw the mechanical arms slithering in through the window, searching for her.

     She realized she had only one chance... the app on her phone could still repel the automatons, if she could just reach it. Pulling open her purse, she frantically sifted through, sighing with relief when she found it. In seconds she had swiped it on, typing in the first two digits of her password-- and then the hands were upon her.

     “No!” she cried, clinging fiercely to her phone as she felt herself lifted into the air. Megan was able to enter the last of her password and access the home screen. With her thumb moving towards the app icon on the screen, she allowed herself a smile, imaging the hands retracting from her like chastened dogs the moment she made contact...

     A sudden yank caused a violent shift in direction... Simmons’ heart plummeted into her stomach as the phone slipped out of her fingers and skidded across the floor and under the desk. “Noooo!” she screamed, fighting uselessly against the steely fingers she knew all to well would never let go. “STOP!” she demanded as she was pulled quickly (but carefully) through the broken window. “You can’t do this!”

     In their bassinets, Ashley, Monica, and Becky stirred. Swaddled up tightly in their blankets, pacifiers strapped into their mouths, diapers all messy and stinky and awful beneath them, squishing beneath their dainty little butts, they shifted and squirmed, trying to get a good view of what happened next. The machines, weather consciously or not, positioned Ms. Simmons in the air in a way that allowed them a perfect view.

     “Stop! I order you to stop!!” Megan demanded, kicking and screaming as best she could. She shrieked as her pants were tugged down to her ankles, exposing her soggy Depends to the room. (In their bassinets, the girls giggled, overjoyed to see the sadistic Ms. Simmons hoist by her own petard... but the best was yet to come.

     “I order you to stop!” she roared, her voice frayed and uneasy. “I salvaged you... you are my project! Mine! And you will obey my commands, you worthless machine, or-- Ahh!” Megan squealed, the arms flipping her over in the air. Dazed, Megan’s struggles redoubled when she realized that her soggy, padded bottom was stuck up behind her.

     “Don’t you even think about it!” she growled, kicking and punching the air. “I’m warning you! I’ll have you melted down for—OW!”

     The first spank landed on her diapered bum with a loud pop, making her jump. “S-T-O-P! You mechanical bastard! I’m ordering you to stop!” she cried, her voice shrill and shaky.

     Her response came in the form of a flurry of stinging spanks, a prickling, stinging heat building up in the seat of her Depends. This was soon followed by the sensation of fingers tucking themselves into the waistband of her diaper.

     “Don’t you dare!” she roared, struggling fiercely... all to no avail. Within moments, her soggy pull-up had joined her pants in a tangle around her ankles, her ass all bare and pink in the air behind her.

     A stinging crack across her naked bum made Megan thrash in the air, but she was helpless to prevent another landing on the other cheek. “I ORDER you to STOP!” she bellowed, but it was too late... within just a few seconds she was in the midst of a brisk spanking, her buttocks turning bright pink. She felt exceedingly foolish trying to kick her legs behind her with her pants and pull-ups tangled up around her ankles, but she couldn’t help the urge... particularly when the prickly, stinging heat began building up in her seat.

     “You can’t do this!” she screamed, reddening butt-cheeks wobbling under the automatons’  sustained spanking assault. “I created you! I saved you from the garbage dump! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” she cried, furious, tears of anger leaking out the corners of her eyes.  

     But if the machines were listening to her howls, they gave absolutely no sign, and the spanking was unrelenting, the blistering, open palmed swats not stopping until her bottom was blazing bright red behind her.

     At last, the spankers relented, and Megan emitted a sob of relief. Hovering on the edge of tears, her anger as hot as her throbbing backside. She was already plotting her vengeance against the treacherous machine, envisioning all the ways she would personally dismantle it...

     A familiar whirring and clanking from behind her drove all thoughts from her mind and forced her to stiffen. Suspended in the air, her bare butt stuck up behind her, searing and throbbing in the cool air, pants tangled around her ankles, her eyes widened when she realized she was totally vulnerable to whatever the computer had in mind for her. With sweat trickling down her forehead, she sensed the hands coming closer and closer... but she couldn’t bring herself to peek over her shoulder to see what was coming next.

      “OOOoooouuuu!” She let out a shocked squeal when she felt a fat finger smear her asshole with a gob of gooey lubricant. She turned her head just in time to see the thermometer coming at her, it’s large, round bulb aimed straight at her greasy little anus.

     She opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late-- the cold glass tube slipped up her butt with almost no resistance at all, plunging deep into her rectum, until only the tip was left poking out between her buttocks.

     At first, Megan continued her fussing and squirming, but it only exacerbated the strange sensations emanating from her backside-- so she forced herself to lay still, seething, her hands curling into tight little fists. She hung suspend like this for a few minutes, her discomfort and humiliation forcing occasional outbursts of rage at her mechanical tormentors.

     “You’ve just made a huge mistake,” she forced out through gritted teeth, “I’m personally going to see you carted off to the scrapyard for thiiiiIIIIIEEEE!” Her threat trailed off into an outraged squeal as the automaton quickly popped the thermometer out of her butt with one swift yank. Megan watched the glass cylinder and the hand carrying it retract inside an opening that then closed itself.

     “Analyzing,” the computer announced in monotone.

     “I hope you choke on it!” Megan spat, still struggling defiantly.

Taking no notice of her struggles the machines pulled Megan upright in the air, the hands quickly and efficiently stripping her of her blouse and her bra, as well as removing from around her ankles the tangle of fabric her pants and pull-ups had become. In moments, she was naked and struggling, her beautiful bare tits and red, spanked ass wobbling in the air as she struggled.

     “Analysis complete,” The computer said, it’s cool voice filling the chamber. “Subject’s temperature is elevated... analysis reveals subject’s core temperature is 100.8-- a full two degrees above normal. Medical treatment authorized.”

     “Oh NO!” Megan cried, kicking and fussing even harder than ever now, knowing what was coming. “I DO NOT GIVE YOU AUTHORIZATION FOR THIS... DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU BASTARD!? YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO-- UUMPH!”

     A thick rubber pacifier silenced her tirade, and a firm leather strap with a solid brass buckle made absolutely sure it stayed in place, silencing her protests... but not quelling her struggles. She found herself turned and twisted in air until she was once more suspended straight out, looking down at the floor, her naked, jiggling hiney conspicuously vulnerable behind her.