Programmed for Love, Part 1 (Man to Pleasure Bot TG) (Patreon)

Just as you Premium and Deluxe tier patrons voted for, here is the newets ongoing TF story. This is just the introduction, but next installment will have our protagonist in a very different situation. Enjoy the setup!

By FoxFaceStories

A cryosleep accident sees space traveller Robert placed in a female pleasure bot's body as an emergency due to the loss of his original body. He tries to cope and stay a member of the crew, even as his programming compels him to fulfil an entirely new role . . .

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Part 1: The Starliner Saturn 5

The Saturn 5 was a luxury liner for exploring the stars. It was one of the largest non-military vessels ever constructed, and was designed to provide a tour of the outer systems in absolute style, all while stopping to enjoy the paradise tropical worlds of Eridisa, Galatea, and Gaia’s Rest. On board were numerous facilities for all kinds of entertainment, ranging from pools to zero-grav sports tubes to the classic 3D holodeck. With suntanning beds, gene-sequencing booths, and even receptacles for other visiting species, the creators of the vessel had thought of it all.

Robert Wesley whistled as he admired all these bells and, well, whistles. Like so many others, he was at Spacedock 15 on the Orion Asteroid Terminal, awaiting disembarkation. The enormity of Saturn 5 loomed off the side of the space station, almost a fifth the size of the entire base.

“What a vessel, right?” came a woman’s voice.

Robert turned to see a rather attractive woman in her mid thirties, around his age, approach to peer out the thick glass window.

“Absolutely stunning,” he replied. “You’re set to disembark too?”

“I am,” she said. “For a much deserved vacation, I’d say.”

“Funny, I’m headed for the same,” he replied. “It’s my first vacation in years. Over a decade, really.”

She smirked. “Workaholic, huh? I’m Sarasha.”

“Robert,” he replied, taking her hand in an informal shake. “Charmed to meet you.”

He really was. She was an attractive brunette, and she was already wearing a stylish red dress. From the looks of the s-tile in her hand, she was quite wealthy. He made sure to draw out his own casually, pretending he had a message to ignore, to indicate the same. After all, if she was quite attractive, then he could make the same claim. He had hazelnut brown hair that was charmingly styled back professionally, and a tailored suit that fit his slim, fit body well. His moustache heralded to an older time, a time of great Earth industrialist magnates and dreamers, and it was a look he cultivated well.

“Charmed as well,” she replied. “Tell me Robert, what do you do for a living that this is your first holiday in over a decade?”

Smirking, he withdrew a card from his pocket and handed it to her. Intrigued, she looked at it.

“Wesley & Roke Shipping. Huh. I’ve used their services a few times. They’re good. Speedy. Didn’t have any damage with my paintings. What do you do for them?”

He tapped on part of the card. “I’m the Wesley,” he said, looking a bit smug, and deservedly so.

“Wow! No kidding? Well, colour me impressed, Mr Robert Wesley. I suppose I should try to raise the stakes, but alas I cannot. I am a socialite of the stars through and through. Daddy helps manage a minor interstellar hedge fund you may or may not have heard of: Herald Fund Network.”

He hadn’t heard of them, but politely indicated that this was the case anyway.

“So I suppose you go on these things all the time?” he asked. “I must admit, I rarely leave the Horek system.”

She laughed, and it was a pretty sound. “Oh, constantly! They’re a real treat. You simply must try the pleasure bot suite, if you don’t mind me being forward. I know lots of inner rim cultures get all in shock over such immodest talk, but trust me when I say most system dwellers within five clicks take it as a point of pride how open they are about sexuality.”

Robert blushed, but only briefly. “Well, that sounds like something to adjust to.”

“It can be quite the fun, particularly with good company.”

She grinned at him like the cheshire cat from stories of old. Robert had always found it very, very hard to relax. He was always on the go, always working, building his business with his partner up to brilliance. Now he was incredibly rich, and getting richer every minute, to the point where it would be literally impossible for him to spend it all. But after so much hard work and late hours and burning the candle at both ends and trying to translate alien languages (especially the GRRRRG’s which was just a complete nightmare when it came to their nonlinear sense of time for delivery quotas) it was time for a much-needed break. Time to actually be the trillionaire industrialist success story and enjoy his hard-earned wealth. And that also meant, perhaps, finding that someone or someones special. He eyed Sarasha curiously, enjoying her free smile and her confident manner.

“Well, what would you consider good company?” he asked, looking her up and down.

There was a gleam in her eye. “Are you suggesting myself, Robert Wesley? How very forward of you. It’s a good thing I like forward.”

“And it’s a good thing I like being forward to women who like forward,” he quipped, downing the last of his glass.

The pair exchanged a smile. The chemistry between them buzzed. But then something else also buzzed.

‘Tier One Platinum Class Members for Boarding. Tier One Platinum Class Members for Boarding. Enjoy complimentary drinks at our Galaxial Station Bar and a free massage from the most highly trained Orengian half-shell forms.’

“Oop, interrupted by the bell,” he said, pulling out his platinum-class membership card.

“Alas, I am a mere Tier One Gold Class,” Sarasha said, holding out her own card. “Still, we’ll be on the same deck. Who knows if we’ll come across each other.”

“Oh, I’ve got a good idea we will, Miss Sarasha. In fact, I look forward to it. Don’t visit those pleasure bots without me. I have a feeling I’ll need a guide.”

“And I should like to do the guiding. See you around, Robert.”

She held out her hand, and he kissed it in the old-fashioned style before exiting to his gate. As an incredibly wealthy individual he could have boarded even earlier if he’d liked; very little was off-limits to men and women and others of means and money. But he wanted a more authentic experience, albeit one that was still slathered in obsequious luxury, so he took to the gate now alongside other incredibly rich platinum-class members. A helper-bot took his cases on board, leaving him to enter the vessel through the boarding tubes carefree and confident.

This is going to be incredible, he said to himself, though it was partly just a desperate attempt to convince himself. Roke (he was a Havar, who didn’t have last names) had told him more than once that he was a workaholic, and that his obsession with growing their business would destroy him. It had been his suggestion to take the Saturn 5.

“If that doesn’t make you relax, human, then nothing will!” he’d snarled.

Well, I aim to relax. And with a gorgeous and clearly interested woman like Sarasha around, surely it can’t be that hard. Right?

He entered the cruise starliner properly, and gaped at the immensity of its casinos, bars, shopping malls, lounge decks, swimming pools, zero-grav entertainments, and holo-theatres. It was a floating palace, and for a few hours it would be nearly empty but for those higher-class members, and even then the upper decks would be the private reserve of the super successful like him.

Yes, I can find a way to relax here. Like Roke said; if I can’t do it here, I can’t do it anywhere.

***

Robert did indeed manage to relax. When the starliner Saturn 5 finally took off, he was sipping the finest Argelian Wine and having his feet massaged by one of the Orengian tentacled half-shells that mark their species mid-way development. He’d never even seen one before, but after feeling the way their tendrils were able to relax his muscles, he was half-considering a trip to their homeworld. At least he would, if it were not sacred ground to them.

Ah, there are some things money can’t buy after all. But for now, I have pretty much everything I’d want.

His suite was unbelievably impressive, even by the standards of a literal trillionaire. An enormous transparaglass window gave a view out to the spiralling stars and galaxies and nebula and so forth, while a private pool and tub and even a zero-grav relaxation sphere were available for him to use at his own leisure. Everything was layered in fine lacquered wood imported from the forest world of Jarosk, while the private bar selection contained everything a human could drink, from the inner to outer rim and even a few items traded across black space. And while it was a small detail, the fluffy bathrobe available to him had a synthetic nano-mesh that conformed perfectly to his body, allowing for maximum comfort while he rested, was massage, or simply watched holos and media as he desired. Room service brought him everything he wanted in terms of food, and he’d even tried a few Graxax bug snacks, the shell luminescent green but crackling to a delicious red once broken open.

Truly, this is the fruits of success. But perhaps I should just check the accounts a little. See how the business is faring. Roke too.

He couldn’t help himself. That little trembling anxiety built and built within him, the need to avoid switching off and instead make sure that his shipping company was in good hands. He took out his s-tile, expanded it to a laptop size, and went through his s-mail and interstellar inbox. Soon he was ordering rachachino coffee from the outland systems and double-checking the latest shipping numbers, sending confirming s-mail out for the new contact agreement with the Larrum homeworld, and even sending documentation for the upcoming civil action with Stellar Nine Imports who had been caught using a suspiciously similar logo to gain customers. Eventually, Roke himself had to send a message.

‘Like you humans say, BUTT OUT! I’ve got it covered. You need to relax before your hair turns black.’

‘It turns white, Roke,’ he typed out as a reply.

‘Whatever, it’s not like I have to worry about hair on my carapace. I’m worried about you, Robert. You look tired and you’re on a liner for Creator’s sake.’

Robert realised he’d left his video image on. He turned it off, but not before seeing he did indeed still have bags under his eyes and creases around his mouth. He didn’t look like someone who’d relaxed at all.

‘Fine, fine,’ he wrote back. ‘I’ll take a few days off. I’ll still check the accounts a bit, though.’

‘Don’t you even dare! You’ve got four weeks of holidaying, and another two if you play your human cards right and decide to go downbelow for each of those planet stops. Which you should.’

‘I’ll think about it. But you better sort out the Stellar Nine Imports thing, or I’ll cancel the trip and sort out the docs myself.’

‘Humans! Such short lives, and so much waste! I’ll be on it. Now go have a bath or vacuum shower or whatever it is you pink types do.’

‘I’m olive-skinned at the lightest, Roke.’

‘Whatever. All humans look the same as me. You don’t have carapace markings.’

He smirked, ended the conversation, and put away his s-tile.

Fine, he thought to himself. I’ll go properly relax. This was just a small stumble. Time to head out there and -

He received a ping on his s-tile. Concerned it was an important business message, he opened it again, feeling just a little guilty. But then he saw it was from Sarasha, who must have found him on the network.

‘Pleasurebot Suit. Deck 47. 15 minutes and you’ll see me there.’

Robert grinned. Well, perhaps there were some ways to properly relax indeed.

***

“By the Creator,” Robert gasped.

“T-told you they were g-good,” Sarasha said, whimpering a little as one of the pleasure bot’s serviced her. “Like a massage, only b-better!”

“So much better. Gods, my home system wouldn’t like this.”

“Ah, but being rich, you can fly to where you want, enjoy what you - ohhhhh - want.”

“I’m not too good at that,” he said, even as one of the pleasure bot’s slowly mounted him, its silvery finish betraying its warmth and comfort. “But perhaps, thanks to you, I’m learning.”

“Ah, I have always been a great teacher in such pleasures,” she boasted. “Though it comes with the - mmmhm - territory of being a socialite. It’s what we bring to society, dear!”

He chuckled, and so did she, until they were both launched into pleasure once more. Sarasha had rented the suite privately for just the pair of them, and they were each being worked over by two bots each. It was a paired thing: one was like a floating sphere with various equipment that could unfurled from its numerous hatches. It could separate into two spheres so that one massaged the head and stimulated further pleasure centres of the brain, all while the other continued to feed you, give you stimulants and other enjoyable drugs of your choosing, and use its massaging rods to play with all sorts of fun areas.

But that wasn’t the big attraction, not compared to the manbot and fembot that were attending them. These were much more classical in design; made to be human-looking, albeit with silvery platinum skin and figures that were just a little exaggerated. The fembot servicing Robert was riding his cock, its vibrating pussy milking him perfectly and causing waves of pleasure to echo through his body. Her face was like a classic dame from the ancient era of black and white movies, complete with an elaborate hairdo made of microfilament metals, making it both natural and strangely possessing an underwater-like effect as it swayed slowly. The fembot wore no clothe, being completely naked, but its breasts were still topped with gorgeous nipples, its stomach flat and supple. This thing wasn’t quite nanotech, but its flexible metal design and internal heating meant that it was extremely comfortable against him, all while feeling much more exotic than a human. The fact that its feet were built-in high heels with a sexy sway only made it more fascinating. He had been slightly nervous to attend this pleasure suite with Sarasha, being more used to conventional modes of sex, but as far as first dates ending in pleasure went, this was divine. He said so, and Sarasha giggled.

“Ohhhhhh, honey, we haven’t even gone full pleasure yet. Trust me, I’m just introducing you to the soft version. I’m - ahhhhh! - very excited to see what you think of more elaborate scenarios.”

She moaned as the manbot licked between her thighs, its massaged tongue tipped with a dopamine-inducing drug that made her go utterly gaga.

“Is that an - mmhm - invitation to more dates then?” Robert ventured. “I do need a tour guide for this starliner, all things considered.”

“Robert, it is my absolute duty to not only introduce you, but to seduce you. How can I resist a gorgeous trillionaire like yourself?”

“Even if this is the first I’ve been able to relax properly in two days.”

“Ah, that just makes it - mmhm, s-so close! - all the greater challenge. I will tame you, Robert Wesley. I will teach you how to soak in your first cruise, and have some fun along the way. Besides, I like the company of driven men. And - oh, Creator! No more words! No more words!”

He was beyond words by that point as well, because the pleasure was growing so intense. He focused his attentions on the fembot, which was delivering all sorts of pleasurable noises as it bounced on his lab, taking in his full hard length. He hadn’t been pumped with drugs, wanting to dip his toes in the water first, so to speak. But this bot’s beauty was capturing him almost as much as Sarasha’s, and that feeling of the bot’s large silvery breasts, designed to squish in a little as he groped them, made it all the better.

“C-Creator that’s good!” he cried, and then he came.

‘Yes! Such pleasure!’ the pleasure bot cried in its sweet soprano voice, only slightly tinny. ‘You have done well, master! So very well!’

Sarasha cried out at the same time, overwhelmed by orgasms even more than Robert. She reached out a hand and he held it, taking it as a ritual between lovers in this suite. It shared the pleasure between them, in a way, and the two rode it out together.

“That was incredible,” he said in the aftermath, as they began allowing the airscrub showers to clean them off. The pleasure bots were doing the cleaning also, and making it quite the sensual after-experience. Sarasha kissed him, pressing her voluptuous female form against him.

“It was, but we can do better next time,” she said.

Oh, I am very much looking forward to next time, Robert thought.

He was about to tell her just that when suddenly an alarm sounded, bathing their pleasure suit in shades of deep red. The pleasure bots withdrew, shutting down suddenly while a series of exit lights marked the way to the door.

‘EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! GET TO CRYO-SLEEP STATIONS IMMEDIATELY! AN UNEXPECTED ASTEROID COLLISION IS IMMINENT. WE APOLOGISE FOR THIS INCONVENIENCE. GET TO CRYSLEEP STATIONS FOR YOUR PROTECTION. HELPER-BOTS WILL AID YOU.’

“Oh, this is just grand,” Sarasha complained, letting one of the helper-bots that emerged get her clothes on. “What a poor end to a wonderful first date.”

“I’ve never been in proper cryo before,” Robert said.

“It’s boring. You don’t even dream. Come on then, before we get hit.”

She took his hand and led him out of the suit, following the lights. The entire cruise liner was abuzz with people moving, some bewildered, others in great panic, most just following protocol. The cryo-pods weren’t far; they were on every deck by law, of course. Sarasha opened one up that was available, while Robert was directed to a nearby one.

“See you after!” she said.

Shit! Robert thought. My s-tile! I left it in the suite!

“I’ve got to get something!” he called, moving backwards.

“Are you kidding?”

“It’s my s-tile. It has all my business information and emails on it. I can’t lose it or I won’t be able to check things later. It’s important!”

“More important than your life?” she asked, bewildered.

“It’s just a quick retrieval!”

He ran back to the suite, despite the various helper-bots trying to stop him, warn him, flashing their signs at him.

‘Please sir, move to a cryo-pod! You are heading in the wrong direction! Your safety is imperative!’

“My shipping business is also imperative!” he cried. He ran back into the suite, trying to find where he’d placed his s-tile.

C’mon, it has to be here somewhere. Just need it for a few emails. To check on the court case. Maybe to ask Roke questions about the latest return figures and the homeworld contact deal. I can’t just switch it all off!

The alarm blared louder, but he gave it no mind. Instead, he ransacked the place until he’d found what he was looking for; the s-tile had fallen back behind the lounge pleasure chair where it was almost impossible to see.

‘Please get to cryo sleep pods immediately. This is an emergency evacuation to the cryo pods. It is a concern for your safety. Please move.’

He was about to, when he noticed that the stylus was missing. It wasn’t necessary, but it made things easier. He searched again. In the corner, the pleasure bots were coming back online, the mainframe computer apparently activating them as emergency responses to get him to safety.

‘Master,’ the fembot variant purred softly. ‘We need to get you to safety.’

“Not without the stylus!” he called. “It helps me run the numbers! It helps me -”

He stopped speaking as he saw it. Through the transparasteel window, a dark shape was blotting out stars.

“Oh, Creator,” he said.

Something impacted the hull right near him. The sound of tearing, or rending metal, of the screech of a breached hull roared in his ears, only to be suddenly silenced as the vacuum of space opened up and all sound was dissipated. His body was flung outwards, his grip on the s-tile lost as it spiralled to the stars . . . only for a pleasure bot to catch it. Oxygen streamed from his lungs as the robots pulled him back, pulling him back to safety. Debris tore at his body, and spirals of blood vacuumed into the blackness of space. He couldn’t feel a thing. Even panic was beyond him. It was like he had been emptied out like an ancient tub of toothpaste.

At least I got the s-tile, he thought wearily.

And then, at the moment he saw his own severed arm disconnected from his body and fling itself out into space, he fell unconscious. His last thought was; I should have stayed at work. Then I’d still be alive.

The pleasure bots quickly got to work trying to preserve him, but it would be far too late for any ordinary preserving measure. His body was already dead.

The brain, however, still had its signals. For now.

Things happened quickly while Robert dreamed.

To Be Continued . . .