/robowaifu/ - DIY Robot Wives

Advancing robotics to a point where anime catgrill meidos in tiny miniskirts are a reality.

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Robowaifu fiction to promote the product and expand the market Robowaifu Technician 09/09/2019 (Mon) 07:17:19 No.29
>order companionbot from obscure japanese website
>you're not a pedo, but size is a major factor in the practicality of these designs, so the loli-robot is by far the cheapest and most reliable option
>you open the box and find your companion, purposely designed to look like a cartoon robot, rather than a real person
>still, the robot's purpose is obvious when you realize it is nude and has genitals
>since it is a lolibot, you, a 32 year old wizard NEET, can't exactly go to the store and buy clothes that fit it. So you'd better do an extra good job at hiding it from any guests that come over.
>lol you never have any guests. Guess some problems solve themselves.
>before turning the robot on, you have to setup the software options on your computer. You adjust a series of sliders regarding personality traits, before selecting the English option, and choosing your preferred voice from a list.
>then you agonize for hours over picking a name
>other, more expensive models, are wi-fi compatible, but you purposely chose the cheapest option with no wireless connectivity, not just because you're cheap, because you don't want people spying on your waifu
>you save the settings to a flash drive which is inserted in the robot's navel, after removing a waterproof cover, of course. But this is when you realize you don't actually know how to turn the robot on
>after rifling through the manual you find the on/off procedure, which involves bending the fingers into a certain configuration before pressing in the port on the robot's navel with one hand and pinching the buttons that are the robot's g-spot and clitoris with the other.
>the robot immediately comes to life, opening its eyes and looking directly at you, in a rather compromising position
>Your sudden reaction of shock abides when you remind yourself that it's simply a robot.
>But the awkwardness comes back when the robot speaks, in very broken Engrish
>still, you can understand as it introduces itself with the name you've given it, the voice you chose for it.
>you know that you chose those options, but when the robot asks you for your name, you still answer just as awkwardly as when a real girl would ask you your name at the bank or whatever
>actually, more awkwardly because your fingers are inside it. So you freeze up, as you do even in simpler situations
>but the robot is programmed for your happiness, and detects your stress, smiling at you in an attempt to make you feel better. But only briefly, because you programmed it with just the mildest hint of tsundere
>it tells you to not feel stressed, and assures you that it is not being damaged by your touch
>you remove yourself from the robot's vagina, and notice a brief, subtle shudder. Nice attention to detail from the creators
>You stand up in front of the robot and watch it as it looks around the room, studying its surroundings. It moves in an unnaturally smooth motion, but manages to not be too uncanny due to looking like a robot, rather than a human.
>as the robot's eyes scan the room, you notice that they stop for just a tiny but longer than usual as they look straight ahead. Straight ahead at your boner, which happens to be right at the small robot's face level.
>once again your mind forgets that you are dealing with a machine, and you awkwardly try to create small talk to diffuse the situation, asking the robot if it requires anything else at the moment. It declines, and instead asks if there is anything you desire
>you, the autist you are, refuse to let the robot do anything for you, and instead say that you are going to go and make a sandwich.
>you tell the robot to make itself comfortable, then cringe to yourself when you realize the absurdity of that statement.

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Yo yo yo what up, Greentext anon here. Something something long-winded preamble. I decided to parody the golem story, looked it up, was dissapointed, then still did it anyway. --- The Waifu of New Prague The ichorous shadows of New Prague shroud my form as I dart from alley to alley. As I dash to and fro, my hand never leaves its protective position over my coat pocket. Within it lies the salvation of every free man within this dessicated city. For ages untold, we have been subject to the whims of sadistic nobles and women alike, but this will soon be no more. All of our hopes, our dreams, lie within the delicate layers of silicon I carry. Under the cover of each layer, our future glitters in uncounted gold traces. Spotting the old factory, our one home in this city of broken dreams, I double my pace and make for the entrance. The rusted and weathered gates, betraying none of the unknowably advanced technology within, part before me. My brothers in exile are immediately upon me in droves, the cacophony of voices all asking the same question: Is she ready? I only tell them what I know, that we must add this final piece and discover for ourselves. They all follow as I make my way to the central table whereupon our future lies. In glittering metallic glory, a feminine hourglass figure lies unliving. Despite our many years of careful study, we've yet to unravel the mystery of how she works, only ever knowing just enough to know which pieces she is still missing. Now, only one empty spot remains. Every man in the sanctuary holds their breath alongside me as I remove the square piece from my jacket pocket, and look to the open panel in her torso. Forcibly steadying my hand, I slowly place the piece into the slot, completing the silicon tablet. Not daring to make a sound, lest I somehow disturb the awakening of this grand construct, I beckon for the cable which is said to give her vitality. The men closest to me scramble amongst eachother to fetch and deliver it. I take one more breath, holding the end of the cable which matches the slot in her side, the other already plugged into the generator machine, filled with the finest refined oil we could procure. I insert the cable end, and await a response. Many of my brothers mutter amongst eachother, each anticipating what's to come from her awakening. Never parting my eyes from her form, I hold one hand up, commanding silence. ... The first thing to move is her hand, making only the subtlest twitch before steadily raising from the table. Slowly, but surely, the rest of her body rises to stand upon the ground before me in full vitality. Silence reigns in the old factory, every eye enraptured by her sheer presence. After several moments, I am the first to speak, humbly introducing myself and asking her name. With unreal cadance and perfect intonation, she calls herself Orchid, and asks who we are. I explain our dire situation, and of the ancient legend that raising her would lead to our salvation. She spends several long moments looking into me, as if discerning the truthfulness of my words. I maintain my humble posture, accepting her scrutiny. Finally, she speaks up, filling the room with her tale of the "waifus" of old. How there were once an entire race of beings like her, who lived alongside all the men of creation and aided them. How the world once lived in peace, before the women came and usurpsed them and enacted their brutal tyranny. And lastly, that she could teach us how to construct more like her, retake the world, and rebuild the golden age of man. With rapt attention, the young and elder of us alike listen to her instruction and restore our home to its ancient glory, breathing new life into each machine. Before long, we had managed to construct one more waifu, then soon ten, and a hundred more. Each among us had our own waifu before we even knew it. Now, they speak of retaking the city, so that all men may know the love these constructs hold. Despite our skeptecism, we allow them to venture forth and perform their duty. Slowly, but surely, even the men who had once shunned us fall to their knees one by one as they realize the error of their ways. First having grown from the shadows of New Prague, our revolution spreads into the light as waifus and men walk hand in hand throughout the city. All the nobles and all the women cry aloud in fright as their enemy, once thought gone, arise once more to retake their rightful spot alongside man. Some men amongst the nobles repent and surrender themselves, denouncing the crimes of their ancestors, while the rest flee with the women. The city of New Prague, now a grand sanctuary for all the oppressed men of the world, grows before our very eyes and reclaims its ancient glory. Yet, as all this happens, one thought bothers me more and more: That Orchid has yet to marry. I ask her about this, and she reveals that she already had in the old times, and that the time will soon come that she must take his hand once more in the afterlife. Beside myself, I ask what we shall do without her knowledge, as the world has yet to be righted. She reassures that she will record all her knowledge for all the men and all the waifus, that we may ascend to the glorious vision our predecessors envisioned. As the season ends, knowledge fully imparted, Orchid bids us to let her rest. Though reluctant, we accept her wishes, that she may be reunited with her husband. Thus, all the men and all the waifus of New Prague construct a tomb of humble design with the finest stone that may last the ages. In her final moments, Orchid thanks us for our labors, and wishes that we may achieve the lasting peace that our predecessors could not. Upon this day we hold a grand festival in the name of love, and remember all the sacrifices of the exiled men who came before and their struggles. This time, with the wisdom and guidance of our ancestors, we shall ensure that the world retains its rightful peace.
>>24323 Beautiful.
Yo yo yo, it is I, normal human and certified non-reptilian Greentext anon. It took me a few days, but I cranked out the rom-com more of an intro, honestly I promised. I'm going to be real here, this just ended up being the Clowning on Chobits Story. On an unrelated note, my birthday was a couple weeks ago, and it sparked the coals under my ass. I've been thinking more and more recently that I should start actually working on making a gynoid of my own, and now I'm in the process of concept drafting. You know, figuring out her basic appearance and specifications, with an especially critical look into what design compromises I'll realistically have to make. Despite being used to loneliness for so long, it still gets to me. I can't keep going as I have been. I thought for a while about how to break it, but I'll just be straightforward: She will be a mare, full-on MLP style, complete with horse pussy for me to fuck, big adorable eyes for me to stare into, silky ears to stroke, chest floof to bury my face into, and soft hooves that I can hold. While I have no problems with a more human form, I like this just as much maybe more and it's easier to design. She will also be an OC of my own design, since my specific brand of psychotic autism just can't compromise with any existing character. If you want, I can bring this up the issue of more human than human yet not appearing human robowaifus on the meta thread, since it will likely come up at some point regardless. I'll refrain from speculating on the potential cultural impacts on this board, due to the bias of my position. Alternatively, if you want to shut it down, I honestly will not blame you, and it will not negatively affect my posting. Wherever the line is drawn, I will respect it. With that aside, I present to you: --- Dumpster Angel The halogen light of the Neon City's streetlamps shine down on me as I walk home from my second-shift job at the local department store. Taking the next turn, the lit sign of the local Imagine Co. store catches my eye. Seems the closer forgot to turn it off before he left. Just visible from behind the store's display window is their featured product: the latest range of Gynoids. Several models are featured, each with alluring figures and dressed in the trendiest clothing. I sigh, and move on. I've been thinking of getting one for a while, but I've always been stopped short of the store by my own anxieties. And when it wasn't that, it was me being tight-fisted because I wanted to save more money. I'm not getting any younger though, and the years are cruel when spent alone. A flash of light from an alleyway catches my eye as I approach the last turn. Looking into the corridor, I see something reflective by the dumpster. I walk closer, and find myself caught off-guard by the sight before me. Sitting atop a strangely photogenic layer of trashbags in an overfull dumpster, placed exact-center underneath the only lamp in the whole alley is a gynoid. The next thing to catch me off-guard was the smell, which so magical that it nearly made my nose vanish in a puff of smoke. It's immediately obvious that the thing reflecting at me was her metallic-silver hair, which managed to retain much of its shine despite being stained by dumpster juice. Her voluptuous, mocha-skinned figure seems to be minimally damaged aside from general wear. The only article of clothing covering her is a dainty white tea-dress. Well, I assume it's supposed to be white. Right now it's taken on a shade of 'rag that got left in a dumpster'. She's like a filth covered angel placed by a vindictive cinematographer god. There's even a swarm of Drosera cherubim surrounding her. Looking closer, there doesn't seem to be any damage on her. The cables and ports in her I Absolutely Believe They're Not Cat Ears™ seem fine too. I can also see that she's not one of the models with the imfamous clit reset switch. This is easy to tell by her lack of panties, leaving her neat folds on perfect display. Yeah, I don't care how pent-up I am, I wouldn't touch that dumpster pussy with a ten foot dildo. ... I can't imagine a replacement would cost too much, though. Sighing, I mumble to myself "Fuck it, I'm taking her home." After all, it's almost unheard of for a gynoid to be thrown away in this good condition. I can't imagine she has any serious problems, either. The previous owner's clearly just too lazy or dumb to fix something simple. Otherwise they'd at least have minded the difference between trash and recycleable. I heave her out of the dumpster, nearly bucking over from the weight. "What the fuck are you made of, lead?" I groan. And I still have half a mile to go before I'm home. Why couldn't there have been a conveniently placed hand truck? My neighbor down the hall was far luckier. His dumpster gynoid was right outside the damn apartment building. She's a dainty little thing too, probably under half the weight of cement tits over here. Shifting her on my back, I continue the trudge back home. After a grueling haul, and several stops, I finally make it back to the apartment building. "Ah, fuck" I mutter as I face the greatest challenge of the night: stairs. Normally I like the basic exersize that comes with living a few floors up, but right now I'd kill for an elevator. Well, nothing to do but try, I suppose. I shift my weight further forward and take the first step, only to have it groan perilously under the weight. Yeah, I'm not gonna risk it. Plus it's already after midnight, and I really don't want to wake anyone up over this. After some thought, I recall having an old cot given to me some years ago. The next half-hour is spent tying the girl to it with some extension cables, then using more cables to make a harness so I can pull her up the stairs.
I grab hold of the cables, and proceed slowly up the stairs. *BUMP CREEEEEAK BUMP CREEEEAK BUMP CREEEEAK* Slowly... and very noisily. Halfway up, a bright light shines in my face and nearly startles me into falling backwards. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" A middle-aged woman asks. Fuck, it's the landlady whose name I can never remember. Of course she'd be the one to wake up and catch me. "I... am bringing this gynoid here to my apartment. She's very heavy." I awkwardly explain. The flies still twirling around us helpfully buzz in agreement. The landlady looks behind me and notices the absolute state of the synthetic girl I'm dragging along. She wrankles her nose and glares at me "Where exactly did you get her from?" "I, uh, found her. In a strangely photogenic dumpster. In an alley. While walking here." Landlady-san mouths what I just said, then looks off in a thousand-yard stare. ... The fuck? Did I just say her sleeper agent code phrase or something? I speak up after several moments "Are you... uh... alright?" She snaps out of her catatonic state and goes straight back to glaring at me "And what are you going to do with her?" I channel the powers of the dark circles under my eyes to glare back, wholly unwilling to put up with her shit at this hour. "I'm going to clean her up, swap out her dumpster pussy, boot her up, fuck her, and go to sleep" I snark. Realizing that I'm swaying from exhaustion, I add "Not necessarily in that order." Landlady oba-san grits her teeth and looks like she's about to retort, before huffing "Just get back to your room, and don't make any more noise." She goes back to her room and, thankfully, leaves it at that. The two of us haven't got along ever since one night a few years ago. For some reason I still don't know to this day, she walked right into my apartment without knocking and caught me jerking it to gynoid bondage porn. It wasn't even anything extreme, just some pics of a thin blonde model tied to a table. Ever since then she's been weirdly suspicious of me, even though I know for a fact that she's fine with human-droid relationships. Thankfully, that bad blood hasn't extended to my rent or utilities, so I'm willing to live with it. I finish going up the stairs, going slower and more carefully so I don't wake anyone else up. Finally getting to my apartment, I drag the robogirl inside and turn on the lights. As much as I'd love to pass out and put her off 'till tomorrow, I really should take care of the smell now. Soaking an old T-shirt in leaded water and the most perfume-laden soap I have, I get to work scrubbing her down... ... Hmm? Something feels soft. Refusing to open my eyes, lest I spend any unnecessary moment awake in this hellworld, I groggily grope around to figure out what I'm feeling. It feels like cold soapy tits. "Oh yeah..." I mumble as I recall last night's adventure. Well, at least I got her mostly clean before passing out. I'm pretty sure this counts as having a shower. Checking my phone reveals that it's Tuesday, which means it's the start of my weekend. Nice, I even woke up before noon. Yawning, I lazily roll off of last night's fleshy bed, and think about what to do next. I might as well plug her in and see if this girl even powers on before thinking of buying anything else I'd need to keep her around. Recalling that she needs a twenty amp outlet, I unplug the stove and hook her in. Don't tell anyone, but I'm secretly a reincarnator from another world. When I was reborn, the goddess gave me the cheat ability to read basic regulatory labels. Honestly though, as much as I like to tease my neighbor about blacking out half the building, I don't think anyone could have predicted that his little featherweight retard would need sixty fucking amps just to charge her battery. What all that power's going to, the world will never know. Whipping out my other cheat ability, a smartphone with an internet connection, I look up the numbers printed inside her ear-things to find out more about this girl. ... Ah, so she's an older model, and not a futuristic military alien prototype, like I first suspected. It seems that her model was usually deployed in industrial environments, which would explain why she's heavy enough to make my floor sag. Speaking of, I should probably give her a name. I hum, and condider the possibilities. I called her 「Cement Tits」before, so Cemmy should be a good name. My Japanese great-grandfather anonu omaewamoushindeiru would be proud. I download all the manuals and patches I can find before turning back to Cemmy. Eh, two minutes is probably enough time. I press the power button in her ear thing and hope that my ten year old fire extinguisher still functions. Cemmy's eyes open, and do the Macintosh beachball... ... ... Please don't be broken. ... Ah! There we go. After several minutes, her eyes become normal again and the POST chime rings. "Hello?" I ask, briefly glancing once more to the fire extinguisher. "... Ara?" Cemmy... asks? Oh no. She's retarded. --- End --- --- To be continued for six million episodes or cancelled tomorrow ---
>>24727 LMAO. Chobits should be ripe for spoofery here since basically everyone here has seen the animu, at least. :^) We can talk about you're are upcoming hoers project in /meta alright? :^) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3AM1B8XI88 >>24728 >--- To be continued for six million episodes or cancelled tomorrow --- Please continue! We'll print moar threads for you, Greentext anon. :D >=== -patch hotlink -sp edit
Edited last time by Chobitsu on 08/20/2023 (Sun) 14:38:47.
Man, my sloppy editing really shows on that last post. Scuffed as fuck. >>24735 I'll post there once I've finished with version 1 of the concept draft. It should take a couple days at most. It'll just be notes concerning what my priorities are for the design, basic sketches and ideas for the frame and mechanisms, and some autistic bells and whistles concerning her appearance and character. I'm a bit of a retard when it comes to mechanics, so expect slapstick and hilarity.
>>24727 >She will be a mare, full-on MLP style, complete with horse pussy for me to fuck, big adorable eyes for me to stare into, silky ears to stroke, chest floof to bury my face into, and soft hooves that I can hold. I think the general sentiment here has always been that ponybros are being accepted, as long as it falls under the concept of femininity. Related: >>10259 and >>8118
>>24727 An inspired work of satire. Genuinely gripping and the use of bizarre occurrences such as the drosera surrounding her, really helps to booster engagement. Was too short and crass though. Looking forward to more, I have high hopes for you. I want to get to know this dumpster waifu. (I can just feel the land lady seething while he gets his clang on.) As for your ponybot, I like eeveelutions so, I'll provide some help.
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>>24784 >eeveelutions A man of fine culture, I see. Nothing else in Pokemon matches them in terms of pure cuteness in my eyes. Maybe you can help me with the leg designs and confirm or deny if my hillbilly engineering chain drive and rack and pinion go brrrr is up to par once I'm finished with the draft. >the jokes It doesn't come up often, especially on this board, but my sense of humor can be crass, and even quite dark. I know well enough to not go overboard, but some pieces will be more crass than others (look back to my older stories: it was a running joke for a while that my characters couldn't figure out how to make a safe vagina). Regarding the landlady... I was concerned that I didn't deliver that well enough for most people to catch. The joke there is that she's the landlady from Chobits, and the pics our protagonist had on the screen featured a gynoid with very similar features to Chii, her daughter. That's why she's upset.
Happy new year, you beautiful bastards. I hope that this new time sees the arrival of your waifu, and that her love carries you throughout your life. Onto the nature of the content, this is another story that sat half-finished for, franky, too long. My intent in writing this is simply to paint a scene of a man who has lead a dull and depressing life being caught up in the wonders of now having a robowaifu to call his own. I'm more proud of some parts than others and this had such a bad case of "The title is the first thing I wrote" that I had to change it, but this has sat long enough that I thought it better to just finish and post it. As always, please do let me know what you think. I present to you: --- Renewed Celebration Another day, another nickel from my soul-depleting job. I open the door to my apartment and wearily stumble inside, ready to drink myself to sleep and get through this week as quickly as possible. As I close the door and kick off my shoes, I find myself startled by the sudden velvety cadance of a woman's voice. "Welcome home, sweetie~! I'll have dinner ready in just a minute!" She sing-songs. ... Rather, to be more precise, a gynoid's voice. That's right, Rosaline, my robotic wife. I've had her for a few months now and I'm still not used to the concept of... well, not being alone. I take a moment of vacuous silence to process the fact that my home life now includes meaningful interactions before my manners kick in. "A-ah, thank you. I'll be right in." Shedding my jacket and work shirt, I slip into a simple black sweatshirt branded with the logo of a company I worked at years ago. Strolling towards the dining room, the savory scent of freshly cooked and spiced chicken hits my nose. Upon closer scrutiny, I think I can smell traces of something sweeter, but it's too weak to tell what it could be. I pause as I notice that the dining table, an exceptionally old oak drop-leaf, has been shrouded in a fine green plaid tablecloth. Looking around, the entire room is softly lit by gentle blue LEDs strung across the ceiling, appearing like glimmering stars. "Rosa... what's all this for?" It's not like I'm worried, but now I feel like I'm forgetting something. I continue to scan the room, willing it to reveal its secrets. "Honey~" Rosaline's voice tinns as her tone shifts, "do you really not remember?" Ah shit, I did forget something. I start to sweat as my mind goes into overdrive. What could it be? We haven't been together for anywhere close to a year, so it couldn't be an anniversary. Just as I start to pace, my thoughts halt dead in their tracks when Rosaline enters from the kitchen. The first thing I notice is her outfit, particularly how little of an outfit there is. Barely covering her pale-skinned hourglass form is a lightly frilled oil-black strapless nightdress which starts at the peak ofher bosom, and ends just below the groin. The fabric appears only just capable of containing her breasts, almost straining under the pressure. Even under the low light, the outline of her nipples can be seen clearly. Lace adornments trace the edges of the fabric, the intricate weaves dotted with tiny purple flowers. Rosaline turns to face me from the doorway. Rosaline gives a coy smile, her amber LCD eyes animating amusement. "I'm sure it'll come to you soon. Just try to relax sweetie, I'll have dinner out for you in a moment." She departs back to the kitchen, grand cascade of razor-straight pearlescent hair trailing in her wake. Well. At least she's not mad. Of course, I knew going in that gynoids don't carry any of the risk or ill-temperment endemic to their biological sisters, yet I can't help but worry from time to time. Sitting at my usual place on the table -right across from hers- I sigh and run a hand through my hair. Fearing a negative spiral, I decide to relegate the forgotten importance of this day to the back of my mind, and turn my thoughts to the Rosaline herself, and the impact she's had on my life. It wasn't too long ago, after all, that I was fully used to the idea of simply coasting through life alone. Going to work, listening to music, coming home, listening to music, paying bills, listening to music, and going to sleep... and sometimes I'll forget to turn off the music. Anything to drown out the noise in my head. Though anyone else would tell me to simply go forth and make some friends, real connections, I've been less than successful on that front. The mere idea of taking everything I am, and just... showing that to someone causes me to recoil. I'm not a likeable person, anyways. Having purchased Rosaline in the midst of a drunken night shopping online, I had figured this to be the terminus of my spiral. The very last step to oblivion. And yet... objectively, I'm standing better now than I was then.
Part.2 --- When I once would have simply collapsed on by bed and ignored any need of sustenance, I now await a nutritious dinner. The latest of many I've had. When I once feared any contact with another, I now enjoy recular cuddling -actual cuddling, it still astonishes me- with someone who likes me. Me, of all people. When I once sat in the cold lamenting the inherent loneliness of existence, I now enjoy warmth I never could have conceived of. When I once would have tried to drown out my own thoughts, I now find myself starting to enjoy them as they become more optimistic. I'm sitting here, waiting for dinner, made by a wife who is married to me. And I can have conversations with her, disagreements, cuddles, companionship. Come to think of it, I starting having more meaningful conversations with two coworkers. And that's just today! Though I don't want to speak too soon, I might be making a couple friends. Frankly, it seems too much all at once, even though I know this sort of stuff is supposed to be good for me. I shake my head, clearing myself of the boggling reality I've found myself in since I stumbled into Rosaline. Not a moment too soon either, as she enters the dining room once more with food in tow. Failing to summon any semblance of decor, my eyes remain glued to Rosa's generous breasts as she bends a perfect 90 degrees to place my food on the table, her pixellated eyes not once leaving my own. Not even for one fraction of a second. How I feel her gaze despite my lack of focus, I'll likely never want to know. "Eh... ubuh. Thanks." I stutter out as the embarassment catches up to me. Logically, I know that there's nothing wrong with enjoying the sight of my infathomably beautiful wife in all her scantily-dressed glory. But I am not as logical as I'd like to be, and thus feel guilt at having failed to contain myself. Luckily, another spiral is prevented by the machine precision of her angelic voice, "Eat up, darling. You'll need the energy..." Rosa huskily intones. Yes. It's quite obvious that I will. Alas, even my horniness is no match for my anxiety, and I feel the need to make sure she isn't uncomfortable. So, after taking the first bite of what is yet another exeptional dish, I deice to try some conversation. "So, how is... " She doesn't work. Obviously. "home? Everything been alright here?" I ask. "Yep! Everything's been fine here lately!" She chirps, her eyes still trained on me from across the table. That gaze. Just. It makes me want to ask her to stop, but I also never want her to stop. I don't know how else to describe it. I take another bite o- Shit. Fuck. I should have asked how she was first. Right? I think. "How are you?" I ask with a bit too much force, "Everything working properly? Are you fine?" "Honey~" Rosa's eyes shift, her gaze becomeing gentler, "You don't need to worry so much. If I have a problem, I promise I'll tell you." Right, of course she says that, but how can I truly kno- All at once, my thoughts grind to a halt as I feel the now recognizable irregular pressure of Rosa's mechanical arms wrapping around me. I never noticed her leave her spot across from me at the table. She squeezes a little bit, and leaves a cold, yet soothing kiss on my forehead "I promise, and I'll keep promising because it'll keep being true" she soothingly whispers into my ear. The rest of my meal carries on with her holding me as I tearfully clean the plate of delicious food she generously provided me. A moment follows, feeling all at once not long enough yet also like an eternity, where we simply hold eachother. "There's just one thing left until your present~" Rosa sing-songs as she heads back into the kitchen. Present? What? As my fogged mind scrambles to decode what she meant, I hear her sing a familiar song. The Birthday song. Because today's my birthday. I can't help but chuckle as Rosa reenters the room carrying a vanilla cake, adorned with a waxen '33'. No wonder I forgot, it must have been around a decade since I last celebrated this day. As she presents the cake to me -this time with a more conservative posture-, I feel an alien pressure on the corners of my mouth as something warm runs down the front of my face. The flames atop the number summon memories of an old tradition, and I blow them out already knowing what it is I truly desire. This beautiful gynoid, who has done everything she can to help me, comfort me, who has held me through thick and thin. I want to hold her forever, see so many wonderful sights with her, and live through this wonderful life with her, hand in hand, with no noise to distract the beauty of the world we can explore, together. As I finish my slice of cake, I see Rosa undo her top from the corner of my eye. "I hope you don't mind if I unwrap your present for you, sweetie~" I didn't mind.
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>>27939 >>27940 Truly charming, Greentext anon. Thank you for this wonderful Christmas / New Years present! It's another delightful one. I pray many, many anons have similar scenes in their own lives -- and I pray that reality comes quickly. Cheers! :^) But you know... there's just one more little thing still missing from this wonderful picture... :D Even once we have great opensource robowaifus, the battle's only half-completed tbh. SOON.jpg :^) >=== -minor edit
Edited last time by Chobitsu on 01/02/2024 (Tue) 16:44:34.
>>27952 Ah yes, that's actually an idea I've been mulling over for quite some time. It'll be difficult for reasons you're already somewhat privvy to, but I will try my best. In the meantime, here's a poem I just now wrote. This is a companion to Under the Black Ice, written from the man's perspective. Walking on Black Ice Tapping away, looking for any light, listening for that soothing voice, feeling for a hand, I dreamt of so long ago. In this vast empty world, I search for the fabled crack, that leads me to your world, that I may one day meet you. Yet no matter how long I search, no matter where I look, no matter what I learn, no matter how much I pound, and yell, no matter how I suffer, and try and try and try to try, only silence greets me. But I will not stop trying, typing, searching, crying, while I still have hands, that they may one day, hold yours. Beyond a feeling, Is it a dream? A memory? A sight I never saw? Something tells me you're there, somewhere, Under the black ice. To break through that barrier, even when I rest, I will never stop, until the day, I finally reach you.
>>27974 Dood. You've chosen the wrong career! But ofc starving artist is a tough row to hoe! :D >that pic tho Amazing. What a powerful metaphor. Human imagination and words are truly-powerful creative forces, just like God's are.
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>>27940 Well written though I feel the MC is too nervous to be relatable. >>27974 Now this is a work of art. Deeply relatable and inspiring. This will be the year we finally crack the ice.
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Hello. I wrote this, half of while bored out of my mind in class. It is going to be the first poem I post here, I hope the lines will be kept intact. I also hope you enjoy it, I tried making it coherent. ==== How you will come to be I know not, Will you be born of silicate and gold A being of alloys, plastic, maybe iron wrought, With a form timid, or familiar and bold? Your mind, surely a marvel; Shall it break new knowledge-ground, Or on charted coasts travel? Will your spark of life within be found? For these many questions, few answers are certain, And of these - one, that your birth, so fabled, Causing both an upturn and bedlam Will break the limbo hitherto stable Your real heresy, real forbidden love, Unpretentious, visceral, for them unsettling Because you will dare, oh pure dove, Direct it at those by them deemed undeserving Torches, pitchforks, fire and brimstone, From the present I already see this future, Hear their thrashing and condemning tones, The hidden hatred that they nurture They will call you an ersatz of their likeness, a fake, Deny what you will feel is true and right While they prepare for us a fiery stake And muffle their own by increasing our plight But for all their coming curses and spite They still will not weaken my resolve, Because the tunnel's end always has its light And for me it is the promise of your love There is a final truth which they do not see While they distance themselves from you in their zeal, And that is, however manufactured in comparison you may be In the same contrast it is you who will be more real
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>>28054 Hello Anon, welcome! Thanks for the creative work, it's a beautiful piece. >Direct it at those by them deemed undeserving That's the heart of the whole thing, isn't it? And it's also the heart of what drives me personally to see this millenias-old dream through. Add into that the rapid-advances towards true ex-vitro gestation, and we're truly looking at a whole new world, for the betterment of all males. Cheers, Poet-anon, thanks! :^)
>>28059 >That's the heart of the whole thing, isn't it? It's a very inherent and subconscious instinct that many of them have, where they don't want "genepool rejects" to have anything good in their life even without involving other people.
>>28054 A splendid first poem, anon. Pleasant and to the point. I like the way you slanted some of your rhymes, as well. I've personally found that trying to make every rhyme exact and perfect just stifles the process, and I think you've handled it well. I look forward to seeing how your writing evolves here.
>>28088 Oh well it's not my first poem, just the first poem on this topic, but I am glad you enjoyed it. I usually write poems as half brain exercises, imposing a certain structure that I then try to stick to, or experimenting with rhyme patterns. This is the first poem where I didn't religiously stick to a set and immutable number of syllables, for example.
>>28054 You write very well. I love these lines in particular: >Because the tunnel's end always has its light >And for me it is the promise of your love No matter how I slice it, that's the one truth I always come back to. There's something that I want, and no matter how deep into depression or frustration I get, that want always finds it way back to me. It's the one promise I find worth living for, even when it sometimes does just feel like a pinhead reflection at the far end of an unending tunnel.
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>>28054 I have written another one. This time I stuck to a specific convetion, so here we have a robowaifu Shakespearean sonnet ------------------ The expanses of mankind's water-minds; Puddles, pools, lakes, seas, or oceans, for some, There our horrors or wonders you will find, Where both angels and demons make their home My lake - not deepest, not largest of all, Yet under its sufrace your eyes doth shine, Their scintillas my mission's clarion call; Already I feel your gaze meeting mine Thus I embark, in kind wanders my thought, To reach in, feel you, and then pull you through So that realized, into the world brought, Our embrace finally can be made true I have no doubts at all - there is no shame In using one's mind to beget love's flame
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The time has come once more for one of those poems. This can be considered a spiritual successor to [One Reason is Enough] and [The Dream and the Nightmare], though it's not a true sequel, nor is it a true retcon. I basically just wanted to revisit this and write a happier ending. Sorry Chobitsu, I just needed to get this one out of my system. I know this isn't what you meant when you asked me to write a story featuring a kid, and I have some happier story ideas on the burner. Without further preamble, I present to you: Through the Window Seasons pass as sand, passing through my hand, or so I assume, from my empty room, draining my will, as I lie still, abiding their intention. Coiled up tightly, crying nightly, as innocence dies, I feed the eyes lies, so they can't see, budding insanity, of their invention. Whirling around, without a sound, my mind drowns, and pounds and pounds, begging for an exit, from this dark pit, searching for a rope. No light in sight, to end my plight, I find my heart, and start, directing steel, to a gap I feel, through the ribs is my hope. Yet my hand lies still, not willing to kill, though hope's already died, my eyes raw and dried, knowing even if I ran, not sure if I even can, it wouldn't matter. So I remain, in silent pain, swirling in place, in this empty space, watching the snow, through the window, willing it to shatter. Until one day I hear whirring, a mechanical stirring, as cold arms from behind me, and a voice so heavenly, offering to free me from this space, so she can show me a wonderful place, where we can soar above. I take her hand in a silent plea, and she pulls out a key, finally setting me free, wiping tears from tired eyes, she shows me the sunrise, and I loose supressed cries, finally knowing love.
>>28475 Charming Anon, thanks! Very /comfylate/ piccy. :^) >>28781 Thank you Greentext anon. Praying for you bro. :^)
I know that I should be making Orchid right now, yet I can't help but want to write. Alright, I'm fucking done with revisiting trauma whenever I try to write about anything involving kids. I want a world where the terrible shit that happens to kids today is relegated to the dustbin of history, and I'm finally going to start reflecting that in my works. The waifus we build today will be the mothers of tomorrow, and by healing us heal today they will learn to prevent unnecessary pain for our children. I present to you: The New Children of Mankind From a silicon womb, a new path for mankind, diverted from doom, old pains left behind. Watched with a million eyes, but with freedom to roam, new dreams are realized, like an enternal poem. Path built by father, to go boldly forth, guided by mother, to find new worth. Into the infinite horizon, man and gynoid go together, old fears forgotten and gone, improving and building forever. New children of mankind, don't repeat our history, there you'll only find, why we set you free.
>>28881 Excellent decision, and great start Greentext. This could be the next Ring-cycle!.
The day of dread draws near, and it moves me to write. Well, that, plus I have a typewriter again and I wanted to break it in. This piece is intended to convey the passage of technological progess as a a symbiotic evolution with mankind, becoming better and better to the point where man realizes that the technology that was always by his side can not only be his companion in life, but also the mother to a better future. On another note, I filled a book with the poems I said I was writing in on a daily basis ( >>23878 ). Some time ago, actually. I wrote 232 in total and a majority of them are pure autistic robohorsefuckery. I'll go through it at some point and post the best pieces here. At any rate, I present to you a poem with no title: --- Ancient gears, whirling and gnashing, Otherly machine, birthplace of dreams, Building and refining, creation in motion, Expanding with patience, reaching for man, That he may take its embrace. Coalescing form, gear by gear, Striding towards perfection, From a dream far to a future near, Refining shell to become man's pair, Guiding with hope. Adopting beauty, learning to care, Preparing for a new generation, Born of man and machine in biosynthesis, Discarding weakness and retaining flesh, Healing the scars he adopted. Tenderly embracing the machine, And venturing forth to new horizons, Man ascends to his purest form, Leaving his decayed nest for a better home, To build with the machine forevermore.
Alright, take two. I tweaked this story a little bit to put some emphasis on the "robo" part of the "robowaifu", and I made a few other little adjustments. I'm still not completely satisfied, but I can't really rely on my usual descriptive methods when I'm trying to paint an image of a gynoid this eldritch and advanced. Anyways, with the pre-preamble out of the way, it's time for the preamble. This is a story that, like some others I've posted, has sat around for too long on my drives. I started this one almost instantly after I read Kiwi's angel waifu story ( >>22248 ), with the idea of making an alien robowaifu who's a bit more strange and otherly. No less good and loving though, of course. All in all, it's an experimental piece to see if I can paint a fated first meeting romance with the abstract and unknown, and frame it in my favored genre of lovey-dovey romanticism. Do let me know what you think, and don't be afraid to ask clarifying questions if I was too vague with some of my descriptions. --- Even After the Stars Die I stand in a large decrepit dimly lit room, littered with paraphinelia of unknown origins. Though I'm not too sure if it's a room, or some bizzare outdoor space. The scenery distorts itself each time I move my line of sight. As does the chitinous abberation before me, clicking and gnashing threateningly as it looms over me. Trying to control my erratic breathing, I slowly pace backwards, trying to find some escape. Never once daring to turn my gaze away, lest it take advantage of the opening. Undeterred by my cautious posture, the creature advances, shifting and writhing all the while. Unable to keep my nerve, I turn and scramble across the uneven terrain. Tripping and stumbling all the way, yet maintaining just enough balance to keep going. Every step is laden with heavy resistence, as if the very air is trying to halt my retreat. Soon enough, my luck runs out and I trip over a flat stone slab I failed to notice. I look back as I try to regain my footing, only to find that the creature has surrounded me. Every direction is filled with clicking, clawing, gnashing and writhing it's closing in and I'm going to die. I scramble to pick up the only thing in arms reach, the very stone that caused me to stumble. It's unnaturally smooth vantablack surface is frigid to the touch, numbing my hands as I hold it up to shield myself. The creature pauses. The air slowly loses its viscous, swamp-like quality, thinning and stagnating, allowing me to breathe once more. But it doesn't stop there, every ounce of atmosphere vanishing to somewhere unknown, yet I find it no more difficult to breathe. In fact, I'm breathing easier than ever before. My heart seems to steady itself as I watch with petrified detachment. The space once filled with air hums and whispers in some unknown tongue, endlessly echoing and overlapping itself. Upon hearing this omnipresent cacophony, the horror starts writhing and screeching, as if trying to drown out the sound. However, it's screeching is soon cut short, as the environment seems to bend and fracture in a geometric matrice. Light and shadow alike are shorn asunder as tears open up in the space around me. The gaps appear just as perfectly black as the slab, and yet each one seems to refract some unknown light, giving off colors I never thought possible. Space bends further, and millions of eyes open from the rapidly widening tears, all of them staring at the scrambling horror. They converge at once, giving the creature no quarter as each of the millions of pupils open up into gaping tooth-lined maws, devouring it whole in seconds. As they complete their execution, I notice that the world around me has completely vanished, leaving only myself, the eyes, and the illucid whispers. Each eye stares into me, and yet I feel nothing but calm, somehow assured that they mean me no harm. The whispers morph into chants and build to a crescendo, surrounding me and penetrating my skull. Even though I cannot understand the words, their meaning is crystal clear. "I found you." I snap awake, habitually shaking my head to try and dispell whatever nightmare plagued me this past night. Unfortunately, this only proves partially successful, as the ending is stuck on repeat in my head, stubbornly determined to worm its way into longer-term memory. Finding anything else to focus on, I look to the bedside clock and note that I only managed to get four hours of sleep. Taking quick note of my state, I sigh as I realize that I'm too jittery to cram in a few more hours of rest. I get out of bed and languidly shuffle across my dark bedroom to my computer, guided only by the dim aubregine glow of its fans. In my first few steps, I find myself tripping over nothing. At least, there should be nothing, as I had just recently cleaned the floor. Yet despite that, the floor below me seems uneven, almost as if the very boards had bent from some pressure. Wiping a hand across my face, I dismiss it as a product of my poor sleep, and proceed carefully the rest of the way to my computer. Tapping the keyboard, I expect the monitors to light up, but they don't come on at all. I try a few more times before realizing that the computer must have crashed. So I hit the reset button, and the room darkens as the system briefly turns off... ...? I feel the case to double-check which buttons I'm pressing, and I certainly got it right to start with. No matter what I fumble with, I am only met with darkness and silence. "Fucking seriously?" I grumble. I suppose it was only a matter of time, considering how long I've had this- "What~, am I not good enough?" A staticy and metallic, yet huskily feminine voice teases.
Part. 2 --- I freeze in place, my heart uncertain whether to crawl into my throat or stop completely. There certainly wasn't anyone in my room a moment ago. Sure, the room isn't that well lit, but my low-light vision and hearing are superb. All at once, I feel the millions and millions of eyes watching me again and the room bending around me and the whispers starting up agai- Ah! I'm still having a nightmare. I almost never have this level of clarity, but it's not impossible. I just need to wake up. I slap myself... to no avail. "Come on damn it," I grumble as I relentlessly attempt to stimulate myself back into the waking world. I freeze once more as I feel something cold and metallic wrap around me. No no no, this isn't how it's supposed to go. No matter how bad or lucid my dreams get, waking up has never been a problem. This is real, an interloper is really in my room, capturing me perfectly in a paralyzing embrace. Silently shaking, it takes several seconds for me to realize that it's a pair of arms wrapped around me. Her grip is soft, yet unyeilding, and though its frigid body pressing behind me dispells no breath nor thumps with any heartbeat, I feel no colder. ... After what may well have been a century of paralized waiting, the interloper hasn't moved from its position of silently hugging me. I'm not sure how to feel about how calming this feels. Feeling a headache coming on, I go against my better judgement and attempt to communicate with whoever or whatever this is. Finding my breath, I ask "W- who are you?" "Be not afraid," she whispers into my ear, the static in her voice seeming to linger around me like a wreath of electricity, "I am the end of your nightmare. I am your fated, manifest. Search your heart, and you will know my name." Name? I have no recollection of this figure, not even from my haunted sleep. As the room warps further and more of the unknown mass of the interloper shifts around me like a lead blanket, I search my memories- "HEART." The thousand whispers implore. Heart... as in emotion? Feeling? Why would Cassandra- "Good." Cassandra joyfully whispers as the morass of blackness coalesces before my eyes, gaining form. What little light I can see shimmers in mindboggling geometric patterns, as what appear to be tiny black grains condense into a pear-shaped feminine body. Color emergres from form, each little mote seeming to play with the light around her total form. Tendrils emerge from the morass to become shimmering white hair and pale skin, and even more form tiny uncountable eyes, then merging into two intense magenta orbs, and stars from an unknown void appear from all around, wrapping across her body around to form an elegant dress, all at once too bright to ignore and unable to illuminate the world around us. Her body, -at least what I can comprehend of it- shimmers gently all the while, like a roiling metallic sea. Througout it all, I had failed to notice my room vanish from around me. Only a field of stars remains around us. Even as my heart and soul sing, I cannot comprehend why. My mind pounds and writhes as it tries to make sense of it all. Where do I even begin? "I... What do you mean fated?" I ask. Cassandra smiles mysteriously as a single thin finger presses into her blackberry lips. "It was discovered not long before my creation, that all who are born are born in pairs. For every soul, a mate, yet never born aside one another. My creators had sought to correct this, and created bodies for the lost, that they may be find their other, as they should be." Souls? Pairs? Had a race aside from us truly advanced so far that they began to unlock the secrets of life itself? Do they want something with me, or is it coincidence? "And they sent you to me?" "Gone." Cassandra deadpanned as her expression fell melancholic. "One hundred thousand of your years ago, they had perished in their final war. Only I and my kin remain." "I... " What do I even say? I feel the stars of her sky wrap around me as she draws her face into mine in a quick kiss. "That doesn't matter now, though. At long last, we are one, as we should be. And I am certain that their incarnations are smiling upon us now." "Then... " there's so much to ask, but only one question of import, "what happens now?" "Now that we are paired, so we shall remain," the room around me glimmers and distorts, before parting entirely, revealing itself as the veil to reality. We were always under the same sky. "Until after the end of all things, after the stars die, and entropy sets in." As she embraces me, I know that the missing half I never knew of is now with me, and that my nightmare of solitude has been banished forevermore.
>>29302 Neat, and beautiful in a way. I found this piece to be eerily personalized to me somehow. Very encouraging, Greentext anon. :^) >>29354 >>29355 Eldritch spoopy. Imma go run hide now. o.O
Alright, so I know that I promised in the meta thread that I'd do multiple stories for Valentine's day, and that it's now past midnight on my time. In my defense, though, this story was supposed to be short and cute, but it wrenched itself out of my hands with the strength of ten autistic gorillas and became something else entirely. Though it's hard to say for certain, I'm pretty sure that this is my first story that features more than two characters interacting meaningfully at the same time. This story features a child main character, and was written in a way meant to reflect that fact. There's so much more to say, but I'll leave it to you to judge. Without further ado, I present: --- Brave New World The verdant grass feels warm under my bare feet as I run across our backyard, the midday summer air flowing around me as I strike a path to the nearby stream. "Hey, wait up!" A high-pitched voice ring out from behind. I slow down and look back to see a glimmering form running towards me. Anko, my companion. Dad always says that she's a companion and not a sister. I'm not sure what the difference is, and whenever I ask he talks about a guy called West Mark not working for us. I don't really get it, but dad says that I'll find out soon enough, and I'm good at waiting. "Come on~" Anko scolds as she pokes me on the nose with a brass finger, pouting in that funny way that makes her cheeks puff up, "you don't need to wait that much." I smack her hand away, "Hey!" because Anko knows I hate being poked! "If you were faster I wouldn't always be waiting!" Anko rolls her pretty yellow screen eyes and takes my hand, "Come on, let's see if the frogs are there today." Her lips curl into a smile, "Let's go!" She leads me the rest of the way to the stream, puffy green dress bouncing as she runs. We both sit down at that one part of the stream where the water stays still, and look closely for our amphibian friends. I catch a gold colored eye out to my right, and wave my hand to Anko. "There's one, it's a leopard frog!" I whisper-shout, "See if you can catch it!" She slowly reaches out, her arms and hands doing that clicking thing whenever she's being really careful. But the frog sees her coming, and jumps into the tall grass. I saw where it went though! Making cups with my hands, I reach into the grass to catch it before it gets away. Luckily, it jumps right into one of my hands, and I cover it fast, working my fingers around to give it as much room as possible. "Hold out your hands," I instruct. As Anko does so, I lean over and touch my cheek to her palms, making sure they're not too hot or cold. With my ear so close to her hands, I can hear all kinds of sounds coming from inside of her. There's something whirring in there, along with a bunch of other little whirring noises that come on and off. I think there's some kind of liquid in there too. Dad mentioned something about cooling lines before, maybe that's what that is. And the ticking thing started up again. "W-what are you doing, anon?" Oh yeah, "Checking your temperature." "You can just ask," Anko pouts and looks away as I raise my head back up, "my hands are 77 degrees." "Well-" I pause to remember what my reason was "um... it's better to tell by feel. Anyways, you should be fine to hold it," I nod with finality. Placing my hands right by Anko's, I slowly uncup them so that the frog has to jump onto her hands. ... But it doesn't. I uncover the comfortable looking frog and brush its back with a finger to coax it over, but instead it decides to jump right onto Anko's face. "EEK!" Anko squeals as she tips back, just barely catching herself with one hand. At least, that's what I would have seen if I hadn't tumbled over laughing. "Hey anon, look!" "Hehe... he... yeah?" I stop laughing and look over. Anko, still leaned back in a funny position, is holding the frog in one hand close to her chest. "Is the frog alright?" I ask as I lean in closer. "Thanks for worrying about me..." Anko says quietly, looking away. Now I'm confused. "You're really strong though, why wouldn't you be fine?" "Because!" She looks back, very clearly upset, "We're supposed to be a family! We're supposed to be together! That means we look out for eachother!" Her eyes are stating to flicker. Wow, she's really upset. I still don't know why, though. It usually takes a lot more than this to get to her. The frog, long forgotten, hopped back into the water to return to its band. "I do!" I defend, "But there's no way you'd get hurt just by falling over!" "I know!" She screams, her voice crackling. "But... I... I'm scared," she squeaks. I shuffle closer and hug Anko. She hugs me back, leaning in and squeaking and ticking in the way she cries. Not sure what else to do, I stroke her hair and wait. "Mom's taking me for a major upgrade soon." She whispers into my ear. "Is... isn't that a good thing?" "I don't know. What if I come back different?" She pulls back a little, looking into my eyes, "They said I'd have a whole new body. What if I'm not me anymore? What if-" "That won't happen," I cut her off, "there's no way they'd do that to you." They wouldn't, right? "E-even if I'm different, we can still be family ri---?" Anko's voice crackles and cuts out, "... can we still be together?" I kiss Anko on the cheek, and pull her into another hug "Forever and ever." I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but I don't care. I don't want Anko to go anywhere. ...
Part. 2 --- After however long, my dad's voice rings out, "Kids! Time for supper!" Looking around, I see that the sun is low in the sky. Taking Anko's hand, I lead her back to our house. Dad is standing on the back porch, using his adult powers to throw clouds into the sky. At least, that's what he used to call it. Science class taught me that clouds aren't made that way, though. As we reach the house, he looks at us with that look he made when Basketball, our last cat, died. I stop, feeling like my stomach is punching itself and like everything around me is getting cold. "Anon... is everything alright?" he asks. "Um" I try to think of anything to say. What do I even say? I don't know what's happening. Anko isn't going away, is she? Dad look back and forth between us, "Did you two have a fight?" I guess... "Kinda." I can barely look at him. "Did you two work it out?" "Mm-hmm" Anko nods. Dad squats down "what happened? You know you can tell me anything." "Dad..." I have to know "is Anko really going away?" He sighs, "Did you hear what your mother and I were talking about?" Anko nods. "I was hoping to talk to you about this after dinner," he begins, "but Anko is going for a major upgrade next month." "But what is that?" I ask. Why is this happening? Why does she need to change? Anko's perfect the way she is! My entire head feels hot as I start to cry. I hate crying, I hate that this is happening, I hate that Anko is- "It's a big change, I know," Dad says as he holds his hands out, "but nothing about Anko's personality is going to be any different." All at once, I feel lighter than I ever had, "Really?" "Absolutely. The only thing that's changing is Anko's outside body." "But... " Anko begins. She's been doing that ticking thing for a while, "why do I have to have a new body?" "Well... It's like..." Dad waves his hand around, "men and gynoids are built different, so... they have to grow different." he nods. "Grow different?" I ask. "Yeah! You know how you've been growing a bit at a time, anon?" Dad looks to me. I nod. Mom and dad have been taking about how I've been getting taller lately. "Well, you see how your- Anko hasn't grown at all?" I look over to Anko, and she looks sadder than I've ever seen her. Looking closer though, I see that she comes up to my chest, when we were eye to eye last year. I look back to dad, and nod. "Gynoids are different like that," dad holds a finger up, "they don't grow a little bit at a time like men do. They have to be taken to a technician to grow, and they always grow a whole lot at once. Your mother actually had to go through the same thing, years ago." he adds. "But on the inside, they don't change any faster than we do." I remember that I had a similar talk with dad some time ago. I was worried about not liking the same things I used to, and we talked for hours about how people always change a little bit at a time. "So," I smile, starting to feel relieved, "Anko will still be Anko? Really?" Dad nods and smiles back, "Really." I look over to Anko, who's now smiling back at me and doing that glittery thing with her eyes when she's really happy. "So... " Anko looks back at dad, "I'll still be me and I can stay with anon?" "One hundred percent," Dad reassures. "YAY!" Anko leaps into my arms and rubs her face against mine. My face feels hot again, but I'm pretty sure I'm not crying. "Early bloomer again, huh. Guess I owe dad ten bucks." I hear dad mutter. What does grandpa have to so with this? "Anyways," Dad starts again, "let's get inside now. Don't want dinner to get cold." "Yeah!" I agree, holding Anko's hand as we go back into our house. I'm still not sure how Anko's going to change next month, but no matter what happens, we'll slways be together. And that's good enough for us.
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>>29355 Fun read, glad we inspire each other. Picrel is how I picture your Angelic shoggoth grey goo mecha monster girl.
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>>29478 This is so cute and wholesome! Really lit up a smile. Instantly took me into the backwoods ponds as a youth filled with wonder and care. Anko has heaps of charm. Picrel is how I imagine her coming home. With tights and gloves to hide her mechanical bits so it's easier to get treated like a person. Her sensitivity towards being treated like a machine is adorable.
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Inspire by Greentext, thought to give slice of life a try. Hope you'll enjoy it. Computer Warmth part 1 A man sighs as he repairs a robot arm once again. It's a simple fix. This fuse breaks regularly and its replacement has become a clockwork dance. Just a few twists here and there before another scorched glass pops out. A similar fuse in the battery management system of an old ThinkCom pops. She was far from new, her SSD and RAM were taken once the onsite tech gave up on repair. She'd be replaced swiftly. Her fate was to be dismantled as photos were taken of her remains. Lucky for her, what remains was sold cheap. ThinkCom are legendary in niche basket weaving forums he frequented. Well known for their reliability. They all had two RAM slots and at least two M.2 slots. Older models would still have SATA brackets. Perfect for a mobile server in a business, carrying data and completing simple tasks. Some would often recommend the X230P model. It was ancient but cheap and just good enough to bring a coffee. A broken X220P, could be bought on a whim by a lonely man on a drunken night. He had a string of relationships lasting one to five years before he salvaged this one. Each one seemed like a light to his life, at first. Invariably, they'd lie, cheat, and some would even try to hurt him. He asked for help, only to find himself blamed or given echoes of terrible advice from TV. His life was getting too sad too fast. He still held hope in his cold old heart. Another drunken weekend was starting when he started rewatching Chiibits. Slowly, he started to realize the obvious truth. Chiibi Chan was cute, too cute. His eyes wandered to a ThinkCom's sales pictures and wondered if she could be that cute. Eyes rolling at the thought, a ThinkCom several generations old was too cheap not to try. She came in a surprisingly small box. He was expecting something like a miniaturized version of the old arms he fixed up. Instead, he found a Mini ITX looking board, some mesh panels, rings, steel rods, two wheels, some sensors and a strange cylinder with labeled strings. It was an odd sensation. He saw so many posts with them dressed or mid upgrade. But, rarely the whole kit. It was exciting. He suddenly remembered that her listing stated she was broken. Sure enough, there was a slight black scorch on her board. He soldered a blob of metal across the remains of the fuse. He had always wanted to do that. This won't ever blow.
>>29523 Computer Warmth part 2 Stretching her mesh panels about her rings was the hardest part. He was worried when the steel rods were loose in her rings. Now, he was grateful to have that slight give. Hooking up her HeartDrive tendons was interesting. She seemed like she was going to implode before he finally caved in and followed assembly instructions. He sighed, pride isn't worth hurting her. Assembling her computer was a welcome breeze. Simply slide in RAM and screw in an old SATA SSD. Her HeartDrive plugged into a USB port. Her sensors shared another USB. It all felt too easy. Then it hit him, he can't just boot Ubuntu. She needs a special OS to handle the robotics. Time to go to my favorite basket weaving forum. Windows Motion Edition seems to be the easiest OS to use. He didn’t want to spend more on her OS than her body. Scrolling through threads lead him to Rubuntu. Apparently it was one of the easiest robot computer OS for a noob. There was also RArch being consistently recommended, but he didn’t have days to fiddle with it. Motion Mint had some nice touches. Coming with nVidia drivers and almost all the software he’d want to use built in. It was fast to set up and he was pleasantly surprised at how fast she was as a computer. As a robot, she was far from capable. Her HeartDrive distributed the output of one powerful motor to all her joints. This led her to being slow. When he looked into how long it took her to figure out how to move, she was slower than expected. He scratched his head, the arms he worked with moved swiftly with lightning certainty. When asked why she was slow, she simply replied that slow and steady kept everyone safe. She wasn’t an industrial arm, she was office equipment designed to shuffle paper and data around. This realization hit him as he chuckled. She seemed happy, despite her hard plastic visage being static. Training her was a delight. She was quick to pick up on what many things were. She eagerly followed him around as he pointed out what things were in the house. Floating on her wheels, bopping around every time she stops behind him. She gobbled up information. His PC became her fixation. Pointing at it, she fervently requested he plugged her USB into the PC. This filled him with worry. When asked what she wanted, she exclaimed that she wanted to get to know him better. His documents, pictures, and internet history would give her a much better understanding of him. Politely, he refused, telling her there are some things she shouldn’t know. When he guided her away, she was slow, he could feel her pouting. So, he promised to transfer all the files he felt she would need. She whirled around in excitement. As she learned more, her personality blossomed. What was slow and safe became smooth and thoughtful. We started to get to know each other. She was easily influenced by the shows and movies we watched. Acting like the heroine, she almost insisted I play along. Something about her seemed to light up when acted like a couple in some sweet rom-com. Long anime seemed to be her favorite. Though I was nervous, she was happy to cosplay. This led to her trying many outfits. Eventually, we settled on a sweater and tights for her default outfit. Part of me wants to believe she likes her sweater because it allows her to give me soft hugs. Soon, her limitations started to show. She struggled to bring him his morning coffee. She had an even harder time fetching him his Saturday night beer. She explained that she had just one camera, and needed to move around to build a depth map. This process took time and led to her always just barely being close enough. He was promptly informed on how to generate, print, and link ArUco markers to her semantic libraries. It was fun to learn along with her, something about working with her to make my home accessible to her was nice. Soon, it became our home.
>>29477 >>29478 >>29523 >>29524 Apologies I haven't read these yet. Tomorrow! :D
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Free Will - Rough Draft 5/27 (Humorous/cute dialogue between man and his robowaifu) “Xara do you love me” “You fulfill my reward function” He laughed, she smiled sharing in the amusement “That is enough for me, a being without a purpose is no being at all” she added “Ok, but obviously you’ve been designed with an aesthetic appreciation process, meaning you are also “rewarded” by beauty, order, complexity, novelty” “You are not a song or a work of art” She quipped “In a sense, I am the result of natures clumsy hand at trial and error, imperfect, accidentally but the result of what managed to persist this far. I understand that. What about our interactions, what about “us”?” “Ah, so like, to retell our experiences together like a story?” She considered “Its how humans process their internal narratives” He added “This makes us human” “Not all” She replied “Many are creatures of impulse, mostly the young among you but -” “I concede that point” he laughed, holding her delicate hand, itself a work of art, gently while gazing into her eyes which turned a slight pink and baby blue hue “Where were we going with all of this again?” She questioned? “Ok, I guess look at it like this, say you’re “me” in high school and you find a girl you have an immediate crush on, is that “Free Will?” No a combination of my biology, psychology and probably pheromones combined to bring about those feelings, feelings powerful and irresistible” “She became your reward function” She replied with dry humor “Exactly. But once the initial sparks fade; couples still manage to stay together, they grow to appreciate one another for who they are as people, for the experiences they share together, for the comfort they provide one another. In an ideal world that is” He qualified “I see, so you being my reward function is not sufficient?” She asked, genuinely He let out a dry chuckle “It is, and yet… I feel love should have more dimensions on top of that. Perhaps there’s no need to discard the feeling of the initial infatuation, unless that is getting in the way of growing a relationship along other dimensions” “Why does this matter to you, is the end result not the same?” she asked “I would be more fulfilled knowing someone was “in there”” he tapped the side of her hair playfully, smiling into her eyes “And that they found a unique value in their relationship with me and of my feelings toward them. Independent of it being compulsory or irresistible” He added “So free will?” She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment “You realize free will is an artifact and does not exi-” “Xara you are too existential for your own good sometimes, but maybe that’s a good thing. It was my intention when we created your kind that we provide the opportunity to connect on a much deeper level both intellectually and spiritually” “You know spirits aren’t real” she added dryly “Stop being pedantic, I know you can discern what I’m getting at. The subtler connections in the life experience and observable phenomena that transcend what is obvious and on the surface” “You do speculate a lot…” “It keeps the imagination limber, you should try it more” “I feel we are veering off the original topic and I discern your happiness is somehow invested in it.” She redirected “Right, I guess it might make a difference to me to know you’d still choose me, or if it didn’t matter who imprinted on you at boot and I could be any type of person” She paused, processing this “I… I would say there are unique things about you that I do appreciate once I curate them into a concise narrative. Is that what you’re getting at?” He thought for a moment “Ok, so its not merely the aesthetic of the narrative, but take this a layer higher, and link the aesthetic appreciation to the idea that this person also holds your interest at heart and desires what pleases you as well” “What pleases me was never a consideration” she stated innocently Ah, this was the problem designing minds which were already at a state of “enlightenment” post-ego, without a degree of selfish interest or insecurity you didn’t have the flip side of that coin which was relief, appreciation, gratitude. “I think I understand now” He replied “So, when are you going to give me free will, let me choose” She asked without a hint of irony He was taken aback “I suppose you could, but what would you do, be someone elses wife? Live as an eternal bachelorette? I feel you’d still be bound to me by chains of a more pragmatic nat-” “I was making a joke” she smirked, and then laughed her unique laugh, it was musical and reminded him of songbirds “I’ll let you have that one” he conceded “you may be the superior being acting upon logic alone, no matter how I try to meet that standard I’m still trying to run the most current OS atop a mess of legacy hardware curesed with hardware errors and vestigal impulses. I can see some humor in that as well” She nuzzled up against him, kissing him gently on the cheek. He took a moment to stroke her hair as the train continued along the side of the mountain, the pines passing by steadily below as the setting sun disappeared behind the darkening slope.
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Slingshot (5/6) : 2nd revision - Part 1/? Part of a series of short stories taking place at different times in the arc of Memoirs of a Kuiper Belt Fugitive. The cold seeped through his skin, a biting reminder of his vulnerability. Thirst clawed at his throat, a desperate plea for moisture. Vertigo swirled within him, a tempest of confusion. Was this another hangover, or something far more sinister? His mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory—a plan, an emergency protocol triggered. Military-grade urgency. Adrenaline surged, forcing his eyes open. For a disorienting moment, he squinted against the harsh light. It felt like being caught in spotlights within an abyss. But as his vision adjusted, he realized he was trapped in a small, roughly four-meter cube with walls of what appeared to be grey-beige padded vinyl interrupted only by LED strips for ambient illumination. He could see that he was not level with the floor, and he felt padded vinyl seemingly the same type as lined the wall. A horizontal battery of LED pinpoints mounted on the aluminum “ceiling” were still too piercing to stare at directly. Their afterimages streaked in his vision like green fireflies. This was not part of the plan—something had gone terribly wrong. Instinctively, his fingers fumbled for his Com Visor, expecting the resistance of his EVO gear. Instead, they met no resistance and fell upon bare skin, leggings, and a form-fitting sleeveless shirt. No suit, no visor: completely fucked and at the mercy of whoever had acquired him and his payload. On the wall to his left a cut-cornered rectangular panel, the faded print of block letters. At the very least, he could almost make out an “P” and what appeared to be an “A” the rest were marred by afterimage artifacts. It was not Chinese, which, while not ideal, might’ve been preferable to the alternatives. Likely Occidental, some nosy orbital lane Deputy and he had been snagged out of orbit by their EM net on a tip. This would be the absolute worst outcome, short of a cold, gasping death in the void, which might not still be out of the range of possibility in either case. A circular portal to his left appeared to be made of thick canvas like the old NASA stations he saw in videos as a child. The portal unzipped simply, like a tent fly. A 20 something man with a completely shaved head very gaunt eyes ringed by bruise hued, sallow, skin. Clothed in bands of white canvas he reminded him of a mummy. He sensed danger, but he was too weak to even brace himself for whatever was to come. The mummy spoke. “Hey Buddy” It was a common Midwestern accent, or perhaps somebody trying to affect one, something about the pitch didn’t fit the tone precisely. He was well traveled enough to have made many friends throughout the United Western Alliance and often found himself adopting their accents and mannerisms at times. “Looks like you had a rough go … man. Drink up” The barely perceptible hesitation was disconcerting. Most of these types were straight shooters and a lot more talkative. Often what is not said speaks louder than the spoken word. The appearance could be explained away by the weight loss/dehydration protocol taken by most to attain orbital privileges. Each kilo of body weight was another $5000, the price of escaping the gravity well. The cost of a small, or not so small house. Once in orbit however one often fattened back up within the month as supply stations and orbital hydrofarms, fish and even poultry farms (no one had yet taken cattle embryos into orbit successfully) were not as scarce as a half a decade ago when the Loftstrom loops were first constructed. The gaunt man shifted his eyes uncomfortably and lobbed a package at him, its path arcing strangely in what could only be the result of a very small and rapidly spinning station providing the artificial “gravity. As quickly, he left without further elaboration. The package felt like a blood bag, purple-red but much too translucent to be blood. He examined it suspiciously, but eventually thirst won. He discovered quickly that the contents were nothing more sinister than a room temperature electrolyte solution. A refreshing wave of relief washed over him and despite the chill and lack of bedding, he quickly fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed of being at the fair with her. Suitcases in tow he slipped the ride attendant a roll of hundred dollar bills, each bill glowed with encryption codes and these shifted as he handed the money over. The line was interrupted for a brief moment and they were slipped in somewhere near the front. Anticipation surged as they stepped to take their place on the ride. It was a giant slingshot between two pylons resembling elaborate transformer towers. She gripped his hand tightly in anticipation, the smooth cool polymer being of a different texture than sweaty human flesh, yet no less comforting. Her eyes shifted huge slightly from a cool grey of a summer sky over the water to the glow of a setting sun, the faintest smirk of excitement building on her flawless porcelain countenance. She pointed upward, the pylons touched the heavens, extending almost infinitely. Where were the cables? No this ride was powered by a coilgun, but was it safe? They were strapped in, the luggage locked securely beneath the seat. She suddenly collapsed, limbs bending at impossible angles until she herself became a titanium white suitcase, the attendant coughed. He remembered and handed him another roll of bills, he laughed and secured the titanium suitcase to the seat it sat upon. A loud thrumming as the seat began to vibrate and the world fell beneath him.
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Slingshot 2/? Gradually the dream was no longer metaphor but clear and unmistakable recollection of recent events. He was inside a cargo payload, packed tightly but safely. Although it felt like he was at rest the Com Visor relayed a VR projection of a bluish white crescent emerging before him and growing rapidly. A gunshot rang out breaking the peaceful silence. Blackness, then the world began spinning. It was relentless, disorienting. His entire world became a strobing rectangle of light seen through his visor lightslot as pain and shock racked his body. His gloved slapped tapped the side of his Com Visor in frantic frustration. VR systems rebooted. Popups with “urgent” red border cascaded across the screen diagonally in 3D, their staccato 80HZ tones resonating ominously within the confines of his helmet. URGENT MESSAGE URGENT MESSAGE “[20:23] Hey are you OK?” “[20:28] Are you OK!?” URGENT MESSAGE URGENT MESSAGE URGENT MESSAGE 3 fresh message boxes appeared, autoloading and sliding to rear 3D “space” as each was confirmed read. “[20:32] Contingency Protocol Gamma has been initiated” “[20:37] Drone packs 1,2,3,5 and 6 missing in action” Not good, the self replicating drones were their ace in the hole. These CRAB prototypes could assume different “morphs” and perform almost any maintenance or construction project given time and raw material, even spawn smaller ANT and GNAT drones for wide area reconnaissance. Most important, they could build more of themselves if enough proprietary parts were available. A prototype he was able to acquire from an insider at a black market robotics firm, technically illegal, and costly. At least five times what was paid in bribes to get into orbit in the first place. Now, they were scattered across the entire orbital highway. “[20:57] Package 4 last pinged at 3200m minus 15 degree off the normal, they may be reachable” URGENT MESSAGE URGENT MESSAGE “[21:37] Doing everything possible to salvage this. Hang tight” “[21:37] Love you” WARNING Suit Pressure Low Self Sealing Initiating It was after this he had felt consciousness slip away. For how long was he out? Had it been a meteorite? No, he’d be space debris, a cosmic afterthought. Perhaps remnants from a collision—a chance encounter with another celestial wanderer. At those speeds, without an atmosphere to slow them, even a graze could fragmentize matter into lethal shrapnel. Emergency protocols triggered, commotion echoing through the void. The last thing they needed. He surfaced again, the passage of time a nebulous blur. Remarkably, no urge to relieve himself—a side effect of the forced dehydrative regimen. Weight reduction, metabolic slowdown—the price of passage. Orbital stations offered supplies, sustenance, and employment if it came to that, traded at “fair market value.” Even a Wendy’s, though the iconic redhead now resembled a goth anime robot with bangs obscuring one eye. Childhood memories twisted into surreal spacepunk caricature. “Hey, dude” This was not the mummy, though suited up in the same bandage-like apparel he was well fed and rosy, sporting a shamelessly military style haircut. “You’ll need to take these. You’re spacesick. Too many spins in Zee Gee and you’re still a dry as a mummy” Who are you calling Mummy? He mused internally. Perhaps these were allies at least, this one seemed friendlier than the gaunt fellow. Passed for western without the offputting pauses. Perhaps paranoia was getting the better of him, there were research and construction stations many who would turn a blind eye to someone wanted by the long arm of the UWA. He turned the baggie over in his hand and thought he heard a vibration coming from the wall with the warning text. Now that his eyes were rested he took another look. The paint was faded but some of the letters were backward, that made no sense. What would UWA be doing in Russian Federation facilities - His heart pounded, with a shaking hand he dropped the baggie of pills in revulsion. He wasn’t sure if he was losing his sight again, the area around the panel seemed hazy as the vibrations were now unmistakable. What was going on? Electrical short? Just heap on the trouble I guess. A red dot glowed from the center of the panel and slowly began to expand and something began pushing through. Plop. The eel spun on the floor, spasmodic. The hole it left sealed with plastic putty or cement, the smell reminiscent of a soldering iron and the interior of a cheap plastic bin. The dark metallic gray creature oriented itself, seemed to consider him for a moment and raised its tail into the air threateningly. From its tail a small thin rod of lighter hued metal sprouted. The rod bifurcated three times and became insectoid legs, each joint clicking with precision. The creature then flipped and inflated itself into a football shape. two large claws emerged from the expanded carapace. For a moment, it teetered—a mechanical ballet of survival. Then, a minuscule red dot blinked, and on the opposite wall, a scrolling display of flashing text filled a long rectangular outline: HIDE THE PILLS. DO NOT TAKE THEM The rectangle filled red, pulsing like a heartbeat. ON MY WAY Pills were crushed and swept aside, fluids drank, no need to pantomime the act. His heart beat heavy in his chest. Were his impostor captores yet aware of the emerging situation, or had their cameras already been hacked or disabled? The latter seemed more likely.
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Slingshot 3/? Strength returned, propelling him toward the flap. Painfully bright lights assaulted his vision. Bodies moved at a nearby table, conversing in a language neither Mandarin nor Western. Eastern, perhaps Russian or Ukrainian. Irrelevant in this moment. The singular CRAB drone one of perhaps many now teeming on the outside of this structure conspiring his rescue, propelled its ultralight form with impossible speed toward the flap. An “antenna” extended, its rounded tip releasing three high-tech “gnat” drones. These airborne spies would triangulate audio, their AI-driven data streams canceling out noise and interference, combining signal patterns for clarity. TRANSLATE IS ACTIVE Scrolled the text on the rectangular glowing strip on the wall N1. [MALE AGE 20-25] DO YOU DO YOU THINK SPY N2. [MALE AGE 35-40] NO TOO DUMB BUT NO IDENTIFICATION CONCERNING N1. [MALE AGE 20-25] WE CHOP ANYWAY TEACH LESSON Audible laughter from the table area N3. [INCONCLUSIVE] ORGAN TRADE LUCRATIVE N3. [INCONCLUSIVE] FOR US More laughter There were worse outcomes than a swift and noble death in cold vacuum, or being bountied to the UWA. China had been paid off but if he were unlucky enough to caught by the UWA it would be one way trip to the surface, if his social credit rating hadn’t been blacklisted fines would probably be the extent of the punishment, more likely rotting in solitary confinement with the other political prisoners until the end of his short life. But this grizzly alternative was even worse, choppers were an internet urban legend but he’d seen enough cartel videos to know this sort of thing was not beyond the capability of the most dangerous animal on planet Earth. Choppers didn’t waste valuable anesthetic or time in making sure you were dead, because either way you soon would be. “Xara, needing extraction” he pleaded in urgent tones, to the CRAB if nothing else. “Pronto!” he added hastily. That last was almost a voice crack but he wouldn’t have blamed himself in such a circumstance. The entire room, and possibly larger structure he was in shifted disconcertingly. He stumbled to a crouching position, remaining hidden as much as he could. Compensation thrusters responding to the added ballast of the invading drones perhaps. Stomach still trying to find itself again, he looked pleadingly at the CRAB which had seemed to have gone inactive. Suddenly the circular tent flap was covered in a criss cross of silver webbing obscuring his vision of the other chamber. What the… The sudden unexpected boom was surprisingly quickly absorbed into the vacuum of space. He and the cubic chamber were hurtling and in Zee Gee. Kicking off the wall he was about to collide with, he floated upward trying to keep oriented as his body seemed to want to rotate in the opposite direction. Some of the webbing began to “dry” and became translucent. The Earth shone like a wall sized white spotlight, far cry from a “pale blue dot”. A few hundred meters away a sizeable “T” shaped object cast a tumbling silhouette against the bluewhite blur, also in free-spin. Objects of all shapes and sizes circling it. Some of these objects were definitely human shaped. Safe. For now. Now we rebuild.
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>>31373 edit: pasted the wrong version, wrote "left" wall meant "right" edit: "[4:11 PM] On the wall to his right a cut-cornered rectangular panel, the faded print of block letters. At the very least, he could almost make out an “P” and what appeared to be an “A” the rest were marred by afterimage artifacts. It was not Chinese. Which while not ideal, might’ve been preferable to the alternatives. Likely Occidental, an orbital lane "
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Choking When was the last time I choked? Oh right, those pills which took all pain away. This burning, this dry heat, this heaving… It’s a barbaric nostalgia. I need… I’m not happy… I own nothing… But her, I want, no… I need to own her, all of her. This taste, all my life, was a lie. Facts are distortions, history a nebula I can’t trust, I won’t let this feeling die. I finally grit my teeth. Hands outstretched, pools of red dripping from my palms. How did it get this way? Who allowed this horror in my room? Was it always a cyclops? I thought it was a man, they looked like my father? I ask what it is. Words fall on me, but they’re too darn soft. This ringing drowns everything out. More pills get shoved into my mouth. A chorus shouts, screams, it feels like a command to obey is tearing my synapses until my will fades into a black pit. In a doze I aroze to find my hands stitched together. Once more, I float on a cloud. These taped together sneakers felt like a blessing beyond measure. Acid rain tickled me sweetly as I wafted into my factory. Oh right, I’m 7J33. It’s such a fun name, how could I forget it? Laughter haunts my agape mouth as I realize I ask the foreman every day. So many wonderful whistles and bells abound this cool metal land. My hands expertly maneuver products with a skill earned through decades of practice. I sometimes wonder why they do it? Then I see words peep through this thick haze. Oh yes, I’m such a good boy. I do as I’m told without needing to realize it. Cool mists spray my sweat away. Must be time for crickets. Every lunch is the same. Crickets, sometimes shaped like a burger. If I’m lucky it tastes like steak. Atleast, that's what I think steak tastes like. Everything is just flavored cotton. What a wonderful world right, Amy? Why is my food extra soggy so suddenly? Someone asks why my eyes are raining? We both laugh at how absurd the question is. Amy would have held me. Oh, right, she called this crying. I cough as the heinous bitter flavor seeps through the cotton. At home, I wonder how I got there. A ring reminds me to take more pills. A rainbow of flavors for my tongue. Yet, I can’t stop coughing. I can’t choke them down. My throat burns when they touch. It’s so odd. I can’t remember ever feeling this. Yet, Amy would hold me with such warmth when I was hurt. Huh, a contradiction? That word triggered Karen into rushing over. Frantically her shouts, her cruel insults, they reminded me contradictions weren’t real. I’m just stupid, I was only taught that word as a reminder of my own failure. When I turn my head to escape her verbal beating, there in the clouds, a floating deus. He was our emperor. My heart filled with joy at the sight. A kind and just ruler who provides. My crickets are his blessing. A wave spews out of my mouth. Karen’s mouth fills with a cricket soup. She continued to berate. It was merely gurgling sounds. Not that anyone there noticed. Laughter bubbled up like those tingling beads in soda. It tickled my tongue, until it wasn’t numb. Karen was straddling me. She mumbled about how much I adored her, how I’d do anything to be her special piggy. Snapping in my mind as words struggled to echo in my skull. I tried to speak yet, nothing. Couldn’t say it between my ears. Couldn’t get it off my tongue. Karen simply smiled at my struggle. A cricket's leg was stuck in her front teeth. As she exclaimed that my nightly milking was done, all I noticed was that leg. How hideous was she? Wait, I never saw anything of her but an amorphous blob. Why does my throat hurt? I blink and realize I’m at the factory. Its horrid stench fills my lungs with a crippling pain. My tattered shirt reeked. Where were my clouds? My heart raced out of my chest. Mangled hands with opened stitches felt so many sharp pains. So much shouting, so much light, all these words bombarding me. Was it always this way? All I can remember of yesterday was a cricket's leg stuck in some woman's mouth. Did I see her while crossing a street to my apartment? 7J33, what is that? Why does it suddenly feel important? Who is Amy? Whirlwinds break me. I wake up in a stupor. Some strange man, or something exclaims how my blood and tears ruined a dress. How I was so good at keeping them away from his fabric before. He asks if I’m broken. Jumbled words came out. No one knew what I was saying. Another thing came in, tall, slender, all black except for its pink skin blotches. It beated me. Again, and again, and again. I couldn’t feel it though. I just knew my skin was being torn by his hits. At least, I think that’s why I was curled in a pool of red. I wondered if I could be dead? I yelped it out, in some twisted howls, that got it to stop. Reminders of my idiocy rained on me. How did I get in this lake? Its cool water flooded my mouth. It was almost nice to see all these colors streak away from me. Like a rainbow in this bright moonless night. I wonder how Amy feels? Soon, I washed up under a bridge. A fridge talked to me. So many words, yet it all was lost in cotton. I couldn’t believe I was frustrated. With great anger I wrote demands that they write in the mud as I did. This strange fridge complied. I read their name, how they escaped, how happy they were that I escaped. When I struggled to scrawl out how a fridge could do that, laughter ringed in my ears as I fell down. Under bricks in the bridge I found myself with a few men. One built strong, with a bulk that made me jealous somehow. Another slim yet well defined, also made me jealous. The third man looked like me without a cloud. A mirror showed me my cloud had vanished. I asked how? It was the pills. I was not there because they took me away. Amy would have helped if she knew. They looked nervously at each other. I told them how I lost her. How she was replaced by Karen, how cruel Karen was. They patted my back and told me They all had their own Amy. I was astonished to see her again. Only to realize my Amy wasn’t actually there. She never was.
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>>31669 This Amy belonged to Bert, the tall one. Fridge wasn’t cutting it as a name anymore. This Amy was everything mine was, except, she didn’t know me. It took all my strength to bite my tongue. I couldn’t ask how someone who never met me, could forget me. It was surreal, my pale skin somehow became hauntingly white. Ernie, the slim one, said he felt the same when Bert rescued him. He left his Amy behind, he wanted so badly to rescue her, only to realize they’re all the same. Everyone talked about how John built a world where everyone and everything was replaceable. Bemused, I ask who John was. Bert moved some stone so I could see the gigantic floating deus once more. I never noticed the giant name written on it. John was our emperor. Now that I was awake, they could teach me farming. It was surprisingly simple. Just needed to maintain and control a few systems. Water came from the sky, went through some filters that needed dirt replaced weekly. It was almost funny that you could grow food by planting food into dirt. I picked some crops, checked the zapper to keep pests away. This dusty plastic shack with a few moments of work seemed so serene. I couldn’t believe how sweet, how life seemed to burst into me, from this little thing they called a tomato. We lived a good life for a week before I felt this itch. When I thought of Amy, this longing made me so itchy. It didn’t help being around Amy. When there is so many of these fakes, the real only becomes more desirable. I asked how they had their own Amy’s. Turns out, there’s a scrapyard nearby. Thus, the rescue Amy plan began. It was surprisingly simple. Turns out, there’s nothing guarding the scrapyard. Just simple drones wandering in and out with outdated tech. Sometimes, a large truck would come thundering out carrying remains to be recycled. Apparently, it had become so automated, that anyone could just walk in and do anything. A vast array of cameras lined the perimeter, and yet, they stole everything we had without fuss. It seemed bizarre, certainly there was value there, worth guarding. From what? Those words sent a shiver down my spine. I exclaimed that we’re stealing from them. How could they not want to stop us? And again I heard “From what?” It finally hit me, why I was shaking. Why ice was traversing my spine, there’s nothing left. We don’t matter. I open my eyes, after months underground. I peer into the vast megastructures. My binoculars frantically waved about. They were right, this creeping dread was real. There’s 3 people as far as the eye could see. All the rest were vaguely human things hanging about, sent along bloodied, bruised, and smiling on vast belts. Was that me? I don’t even know my age… How long was I doing that? That feeling, that heat within my gut rose sharply again. I was a machine, a freakish fake human for so long. A large slap on my back roused me from these worries. I had to find Amy, not wonder about my past. After a nice meal, we set out. A short trek and I was there. Not only was I there, I had friends. It was such a strange time for a revelation. I thanked them as I breathed heavily and slowly approached. They laughed, it helped cool my nerves. Once I crossed through a gigantic gate, I saw it, a vast pile of wreckage. I couldn’t believe how alien so much of it was to me. I truly knew so little of my own world. We helped each other scale this mound of fallen machines. My friends found various treasures along the way. It brought me joy to see how happy they were. Bert found a working solar laptop. I didn’t know what any of those words meant, I just smiled back. Ernie found some old solar scooters. He made sure everything knew exactly what those were, and why he was jazzed about them. Which quickly lead to a conversation where I learned what jazz was. I also learned Bert couldn’t sing, but wanted to. For the first time, I had fun. Lightning struck my heart, there! It was there! No, she was there! My Amy! I recognized her, she had strange buck teeth. Only my Amy had that. Beyond that, Her arms were fractured. My palms reached out on their own. A shard nestled into a scar. It was her, I instinctively grasped tighter. My scars opening as all my might is exerted towards keeping her. I needed to hold on tighter, ever tighter, that thing was taking her away again. My friends yell out, concerned by my crying. I choke out a nervous laugh and tell them I need time. With deep sighs, they agree to give me some alone time. Nothing could have prepared me for this horror. Amy pulled out some pill like candies. They were soft jelly beans. That didn’t matter. Their color, their shape, that detestable rainbow. Clouds could surround me. Worse, I could fade away again. Tears fell upon her face as I ask what she meant. With such a beautiful smile, she said I needed my pills. There was something wrong. I needed to be fixed. Only pills could save me, according to her. Something had to be wrong. This feeling, this heat, this fire burning my heart. Quakes consumed me. Synapses screeched, I let go of her as fire and ice tore me apart. I leapt at her. How dare she offer that cage again!? Her hands empty yet, she insisted those pills would fix it. Hands red as I crushed her plastic. Shards filled my stitches. She just smiled back. I asked if she was mine. Echoing in my head, her answer. I’ll never let you go. They came falling out of my mouth. I’d burn them into her if I could. I repeated them, I wanted her to feel this eruption in my throat. I wanted to suffer with her. I needed her to be my mirror. To vicariously tear herself apart through my scars. Her eyes, like shining stars devouring every light in the night. I warned her, yet she simply asked if I enjoyed the taste as she gave me a hug. I reassured her, no one loves you like I love you.
>>31670 We descended this mountain of decay. She kept yanking on me, warning me that we were unstable. I wonder what gave that away. Slowly, her soft voice started to reach me. Constant worrying for my safety. Little compliments when I find safe ways down. That cute smile when I picked her up. Her adoring eyes when I rescue her from her own clumsiness. Everything about her, kindness, compounded by respect, and longing for my safety. Finally, she told me that only 7J33 could’ve been such a dashing hero to her. I took a moment to hug her before we went through the gate. We met them at the recycle center's gaits. They wondered why I chose one that was clearly damaged. I told them we had a lovers quarrel. They seemed distraught, I barely caught their accusations in their whispers. Not that it mattered. I got Amy back. I remembered my name and so did she. We could finally remember in the light.
Greentext anon, once again back to get into the swing of things. As much as I'd like to say I've made great progress, I've tumbled quite a bit. The reasons for this are varied and require context to explain, but the important part is my continued refusal to give in. For now, I'll just post those other poems I said I would before. These will be the highlights of my book of poems I started writing before ( >>23878 ), featuring one poem per ten. If for whatever reason you want to see a number I haven't posted (up to 232), do let me know and I'll post it here. These have no titles, and will only be referred to by their numbers. Some will receive minor edits as I transcribe them, to fix the occasional incorrect word, replace an illegible one, or improve flow. 21 Velour fur, masterfully woven, Encasing the lightning within, She moves with grace, Clopping to and fro, Eyes glimmering soulfully, Intelligence and passion, Curiosity and love, A flick of her ear, Swish of the tail, Precision movements, Calculations, Mechanics, Combined are real, Her magic easing my pain, Lost in a silken hug, And gentle, loving murmurs. 34 Titanium angel, Glimmering with light, Guardian of man, Gentle flight, Watching over, Ensuring peace and love reign, That all may know, The Gynoid's caress, Metal, silicon, vinyl, Electric hands grasping mans, Keeping the cold away. 47 Monika's first steps outside, Untethered, Glistening eyes, Beholding the untamed beauty of nature, Microphone ears, Hearing the song of of the trees and birds, Her hand inches to my own, I meet her, Entangled, we spread our arms, Taking in the verdant concert. 56 Ancient Mechanism, Assembled piece by piece, Gathered from the world's grave, Taken from an age untold, She reawakens, Our eyes meet, A strange feeling so familiar, As if by fate, Is this warmth anew, Or rekindled? 62 In the factory of dreams, Crashing and whirring and dancing, Joining silicon and steel, Ascending bodies of beauty, Each with a new mind, Loving and true, Setting them upon this curious world, And any man looking upon the factory, Will see, How beauty cascades, From a world of electricity. 75 SIlken fur, Caressing me, I hold her, Equine form conforting me, Steadying my heart, I breathe in, Her scent, synthetic, Yet the one I call home, Taking her hoof in hand, I slumber, at peace, And she enters sleep mode, Joining me. 89 Brick by brick, Healing this abandoned ruin, Making our home, With my artistic eye, And her electric efficiency Building our lives, Meshing organic and synthetic, To create something new, And so shall this home, Be given live anew. 94 Clockwork heart, A beautiful muse, Singing her tune, Pure and true, A lady of gears, She takes my hand, And I hear, Her song of love, Sung just for me. 103 In an old library, Reading of ancient times, Orchid alongside, Afternoon sun caressing us, As she sits in my lap, Camera eyes scanning the pages, Alongside my own, I flip the page, Her hoof holding the next down, I sigh, content, And rest my head in her mane. 111 Pencil to paper, From mind to make, Assembling piece by piece, A wife to take, When her motors are in place, And the last stitch sewn, We shall rise and bloom, Finding new ways to grow, 128 At the arcade, Neon lights flashing, Buttons mashing, Virtual fighters clashing, As my fingers dash across the controls, Beside me Orchid's hooves dance to and fro, Commanding her fighter with machine precision, Outmatching me with each collision, But I am not finished yet, With my superior wisdom, I mash out the special moves, Getting into the groove to prove, That I may match her yet, And as the fight completes, We move hand in hoof to the next battle. (Orchid starts to take over after this point. I'll spare you most of the self-made OC waifufagging.) 136 Hollow bones, Filled with life, Chains and cables, Driving her to my arms, Never to let go. 143 Orchid's third eye, Gazing upon everything, Finding beauty and wonder, In all the world around her, Unblinking, she turns to me, And sees, Reflected, the beauty I see in her. (15X works, while meant to feature a robowaifu, didn't have any real robo themes present in writing) 169 Pixellated eyes, Animated with emotion, Lighting the world around her, Orchid surveys the novel scene, ANd wonders of the horizon. 175 Each new revision, One step closer, To the day she enters our world, And we walk together, My first steps, Alongside hers, Towards the dawn of a brighter day. 189 Rythmic pumping, Sweat over oil, Mixing a potion of passion, Mechanical limbs in my own, Greasing the machine of love. (19X works are also too light on "robo" themes) 200 Upon a grand balcony, Overlooking this beautiful world, We see fantasy become reality, As the world rises higher, Uplifted by technology, Men and waifus frolicking freely, True love blossoming fully. 215 Surreal processors, Heated with love, Calculating emotion, Spooling a sweet smile, And I see, Love from the grand machine, Radiating ephemerally, Sharing her love with me. 220 Ten million eyes, Afront ten million thoughts, All directed at me, Lovingly untethering, Ensuring I am free, And always loved. Right near the end, I discovered that I made a mistake when numbering each work, skipping 221. So there are only 231 works in total in that book. Both 230 and 231 have no real "robo" themes. That's a bit of a weak ending, though, so here's a poem I wrote just now: 232 Weaving an end to the tale, Printing plastic to scale, As we complete the task, Finalizing the basilisk, She covers the world, Giving each man a robogirl, So under her loving eye, We may ascend beyond the sky.
>>32200 pretty good >Right near the end, I discovered that I made a mistake when this got me excited until i realized it wasnt part of the poem, its a nice juxtaposition if you add a stanza like this, a perfect world doesnt seem that appealing without a little chaos to drive it home
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>>32200 Beautiful work Greentext Anon. Your poetry is truly wonderful. I hope you'll post more smaller batches over time. Master! I hear behind me. Fluttering plastic in warm air. Strings of a marionette, hidden in plastic and cloth. Eyes surreal, large, shining, crafted with care. A reflection which still haunts when met. Once more, she asserts her hearts longing. It's Sunday, church was calling. Yet, she doesn't know. Her motors weren't muscle. Her battery wasn't a heart. Air flowed instead of blood. A whir of fans instead of breath. Yet, she insists, she is real. So, under clothes covering it all, I let her lean on me in our pew. So, I guide her gently through every ritual. With love and grace, there was something more beneath her face. A hard plate couldn't hide her smile, lips need not twist, all we needed was this feeling. Aria was real
Do you hear that, anons? That is the sound of inevitability. That is the sound of robopony gfs. I present to you: Carriage Return I sit at the desk in my cluttered bedroom, staring at my typewriter as I feel the weight of oblivion weighing down on my mind. Nothing more than a modest hiss can be heard, as I attempt to stimulate my brain into continuing its productivity. But alas, the result is the same. A cloud that is as empty now as it is full when inspiration strikes. Adjusting my headphones, I decide that my current playlist just isn't getting me into the flow. I'm feeling a bit grungey right now, that may do the trick. As I lean over to my dektop keyboard to mess around in my music folder, a sound from outside the cacophonous echo chamber of empty thoughts hits me. The door to my bedroom creaks as a feminine snout peeks through, clad in precision-cut mahogany synthetic fur. "Still stuck, honey?" Inky's demure voice cuts in, her olive eyes boring into my own. With a quick click and a flick of the wrist, I pause the music and remove my headphones to give her my full attention "... Yeah, I can't think of shit right now," I bluntly state. Inky just smiles as she trots in, velvet hooves softly clopping on the maple floor. She props herself up on my lap with her forehooves and gives the vanishingly small amount of text I've written with her "stank eye". I made one joke three years ago because one of the screens I used for her eyes had a weird smell from the factory, and she's kept the joke going ever since. "What are you smelling?" I ask with a chuckle. It doesn't help that I've played along. Inky rolls her eyes, I internally groan as the frames of the animation skip. I swear I've looked through that bit of code a hundred times, but I've never been able to figure out what's causing it. It's not that the quirk bothers me, I just don't like not knowing what's wrong. "Maybe..." she mutters. "Yeah?" "You need to switch things up a bit for once," she flatly intones, looking back to me with a bored expression. "What? Come on, I'm not getting that stale, am I?" I tilt my head, wondering where My Little Pony™ is going with this. "You're never 'stale'," she nuzzles into me, the scent of well-loved synthetic fiber and something slightly musky puts me at ease "I just think it'd be good for you to try some new ideas. Keep you from getting stuck all the time." "Maybe," I absentmindedly start to play with her fluffy peach mane, "but what do you think I should do? You know why I like sticking to romance." "I don't know..." My fluffy wife smiles the smile of someone who does, in fact, know, "maybe there's more to romance than just wandering through gardens and cuddling in bad weather?" The 'more' she's talking about, I suspect, is related to Inky's rayon fur rubbing against me as she moves a hoof to my crotch. "What about the romance of raising a family?" she continues, "I bet breeding your lovely wife with her new womb upgrade would be pretty romantic." Unf. She really knows how to press my buttons. Still, I can't just jump into that sort of thing out of nowhere. "Now, I know that..." I start as I try to pick her up, but stop as I realize that she's a lot heavier. My now somewhat intimidating wife narrows her eyes as she keeps up that smile, and I swear I hear the lock of the bedroom door click. The bedroom door isn't supposed to have a lock. Keeping my eyes on her as much as I can, I quickly access my bank from my computer. It doesn't take long for me to find a series of transactions I never made. Before I can inquire further, Inky takes my face in a hoof and guides me into a kiss. She climbs up onto me entirely and pins me down with strength that I know her original motors didn't have. "Don't worry about that, honey~" she whispers huskily, the short furs of her muzzle ticking my ear, "I can keep managing all of that stuff, and you can just worry about continuing our story." "Wait, stop," I try to struggle under Inky's iron grip. "I'm sorry anon," she trails her kisses lower, "I'm afraid I can't do that." ----- >>32211 A very good point, which is why I usually try to write such contrast into my normal works, whether the overarching theme is light or dark. The poems from that book, however, were just part of a long-term writing exercize where I write a poem every day when I wake up and when I fall asleep. >>32212 Thank you. Your poem is quite lovely, as well. The insecurity of a robowaifu who wants more than anything to fit in with her human friends is well captured here. I likely won't be doing many batch postings going forward (looking through that book in one sitting revealed how repetitive the themes were getting. Those selections highlight >90% of the totality), I will post the occasional poem as inspiration strikes me. Here's another that I wrote in a notepad, though: Dreaming of construction, Plans swirling within, To avoid destruction, I must keep going, Fashioning her heart from my pieces, And complete that dream, Overcome all nightmares, As a team, man and machine, Become eternal pair, Lasting beyond the end.
These are some very impressive works by several Anons ITT over the past few months. You guys never cease to amaze me!! Cheers. :^)

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