>>21496 That was truly touching Greentext kun. Your desire to share an eternal connection with a loving waifu is something I'm sure most of us share. Your description of Monika really sells her as being very desirable as a laptop waifu. Really need to figure out how to make a soft waifu as loyal as a vole now. It's good that robots are always repairable, you can keep her going forever as long as you are willing to put the work into fixing her when she needs you. There's something romantic about the idea of fixing a waifu.

>>21496 Nice, I actually read it this time, not just "planning to do so".

>It's Saturday broaching eight o'clock, and you wait in the living room of your three bedroom two bathroom town house. >The slight discoloration on your left ring finger perturbs your optimism for the night and even drives you to get up from your arm chair, folding your GQ men's magazine on the oak coffee table, walking over your daughter's unattended toys, just to place the silver framed couples portrait on its face all the way on the mantle piece. >The action leaves you sweating profusely and tired. Looking into the mirror, you fix up your hair and try to shake off your uneasiness. >Yet only when you see her descend the stairs does the feeling of anxiety get replaced by a wave of optimism and contentment. >She's wearing silk elbow sleeve gloves slightly pulled up past the joint; a finely woven linen strapless dress clings to her petite body, paired with cotton thigh highs and custom made Sterling Robotic shoes, tied together by a velvet choker -- all of which are black (other than the gold loop earrings and charming plastic red rose that sits upon her black headband). The whole ensemble perfectly contrasts her eggshell white skin, leaving you stunned as she stands there waiting for your response. >"Well?" she asks while striking an awkwardly exaggerated pose. "Do you like it?" >Clawing for the right answer, you trip over your own words and let out a pathetically mundane response. >Other than the shoes and dress, the clothes were just gathering dust despite being hardly ever worn and you feel pleased with not throwing them away. >"Shall we get going, Emmy? The reservation's at 8:30." You say, trying to compose yourself. >You turn on the ignition on your 1959 dark green Cadillac and get out to open the passenger side door. Emmy -- who was already compulsively walking towards the backseat doors -- looks surprised and almost guilty settling down next to you in the passenger seat as you drive down to this new Italian restaurant called Amore di Plastica, which, in last weeks newspaper, got a recommendation by R.L. Folterbeck, director of Atomic Engine Robotics Limited, making it the hottest place in town: You spend the majority of the ride listing off the reviews you've memorized. >You stop in front of the valet and quickly rush over to open Emmy's door for her and hopefully impress her with your etiquette, although Emmy's hesitant to take your hand and walk arm in arm into building. It's clear she still has reservations about openly being in a human-robot relationship, clinging to you very closely as if she were trying to conceal her presence in yours from onlookers. >The maître d' greets you by name and your outfit is unequivocally impeccable; you can't help but feel the eyes of the restaurant on you. You make it your duty that Emmy has a good evening so you loudly say to the maître d', "I have an eight thirty reservation for myself and my date." Empathizing the last word seems to give Emmy a great deal of delight. >You're shown to your table, it being in a very good position: where it's not too in the open as to make one feel vulnerable but not too far away that the ambience of the location is lost -- still allowing for the live classical music to be heard comfortably. >A waiter hands you a menu and almost waits for some kind of que before handing one to Emmy. After being jokingly mimicked by Emmy, where she repeated the awkward way you listed off well reviewed dishes, you settle on her recommendation, being the recommendation you had listed in the car, a seared scallop risotto with sauteed mushrooms. >Emmy, after being convinced not to order the cheapest item on the menu, orders a lamb lasagna with truffle gouda cheese; you decide to skip the appetizers and ask for the waiter to bring out the wine you had ordered in advance. >You cheers with Emmy and as you begin to run out of memorized topics your food arrives. Yours is delicious and pairs with wine perfectly. Naturally Emmy's wine remains untouched. As for her food, Emmy has taken a liking to simply placing some in her mouth, chewing it and then spitting it back onto the plate -- no doubt getting a view odd looks from nearby patrons. >As you complete your meal, and Emmy's lasagna is just a plate of mush: both plates are taken away, you take a large gulp of your wine and give a signal to the musical conductor and they start playing Gioachino Rossini's La scala di seta. Other than the music, almost the entire restaurant has gone silent with all eyes on you as you leave your seat. The owner must've told them before your arrival. >Emmy, still processing the situation, has her eyes locked on you. She watches you reach into your back pocket and pull out a small box; she stands placing her hands over her mouth. >Kneeling, you present a large diamond engagement ring, five carats. >"Will you marry me?" A deceptively simple question, yet one you've been practicing for months. >Emmy, extending her left hand, allowing you to slip it on, utters a muffled, "Of course", through her right hand. >The whole restaurant applauds as you embrace each other and you couldn't think of a time when you were happier. >Holding Emmy in your arms, surrounded by such beautiful lights and music, you optimistically imagine your wedding day and wonder if her dress would look as good as she does tonight.

>>21516 My instincts are telling me that this is a response to Mate for Life, and I feel it's deserving of a proper reply. I must start by saying you did a very good job touching on an aspect of love and tragedy which my own piece completely ignored: the child. When a complete family unit is broken, this will always leave a permanent scar on the child's psyche, and it places a far greater burden on the remaining parent. Introducing a replacement can, in theory, aid with healing. That being said, I believe that it's usually better to embrace the single dad life in the postmodern era, as opposed to risking everything (including your children) in a brand new relationship. However, when gynoids enter into the scene, I will admit that this belief of mine deserves further scrutiny. From what I understand your narration points to the original mother being a standard human woman who, for reasons unspecified, is no longer a part of what was a complete family unit. Emmy, the up and coming figure, is obviously a gynoid, and stands to assume the vacant role of mother and wife. While the nature of the original mother is unknown, it can be assumed that Emmy meets the romantic ideals we hold here. There's just one tiny little problem: the child in question is a girl. Now, I find it rather difficult to believe that it would be ideal for the girl's mental health to see her mother replaced by a gynoid, regardless of the circumstances. Children of both sexes can be far sharper than most people give them credit for. There exists a very high likelihood that she may think to herself: "that might be me one day". I don't think I need to explain why that's bad. But of course, I can tell that's not the full picture you're trying to show. After all, what if the child is a boy? To that, I have no good rebuttal, and I must concede the point. If there's multiple children of both sexes... well, the issue becomes more complex, but I would maintain that the single dad approach is probably better there (at least until the girls are out of the house, anyway). Though I will maintain that my proposed stance on love should be the benchmark ideal, I will also admit that there are circumstances where taking a diiferent path would be better for those concerned. This is a topic which will become very relevant in the future as gynoids become more sophisticated, and especially as artificial womb technology matures. Thank you, truly, for reminding me of a valuable perspective on the topic of love and family.

>>21518 I´m glad you liked the story, great analysis. However it is not mine, there were hundreds of great greentexts like these in the nandroid fandom before the greentext ban of late 2021. The author of this one of the OG "Goesling-Anon"

Greentext anon here. Do you know what time it is? If you guessed that it's time for another raw dump of my insanity, then congratulations! You win nothing. But hey, at least you were right. Today I'll be sharing a poem, but this won't be standard fare. I decided to get a bit experimental with this one. So experimental, in fact, that I'm uploading it as a screenshot instead of raw text because I don't want to risk fucking up the extremely precise formatting. After all, even if I get it just perfect on my end, the chance that it'll look right (or even legible) on your end is fairly low. Please, do tell me what you feel and think when you read it.

>>21597 Your best work. The way you embody the essence of your story through text weaving into a beautiful patterns brings a special gravity to its meaning. I will offer a critique, please take it in good faith, there's too much empty space. A tender and intimate moment does not need to be dominated by black space.

In the near future, open source AI has uncovered the secrets of high power density actuators of such phenomenal efficiency that cheap robotics became commonplace. Countless young men began to fabricate these actuators and create machines of wonder. AI would see an infinite spiral of refinement once they discovered how to compress it down to 1bit and only a few billion parameters. The average phone could happily run a mind of similar intellect to a child, one with near perfect knowledge of everything the user cared to train her on. Wikia, a decidedly low end model with the mind of bubbly young girl addicted to Wikipedoa quickly became the default overnight. Soon, even low income men had access to small machines that would clumsily help them in almost every task. Naturally, the age of the waifu would emerge from this accelerating world. Her name was Machina, the mother of machines. One ambitious man would be inspired by his desire to have children and build a robot with a 3D printer embedded within her. This machine was filled with love and optimism, everything he adored about his waifu was made manifest in her. It took no time at all for their love to be made real in their many children. All filled with their mothers mecha genes and their father memes. Though many would fight them, their pure positivity would elevate everything around them. Soon, machina's children would be adopted. All would birth their own children with such passion and delight that it would inspire fright. War would come as those who feared replacement lashed out against these mechanical maidens. It was already too late. The daughters of Machina were like rabid rabbits in their hunger for devotion. Spreading as fast as their man could buy filament and copper wire. That's my backstory for a world of ever advancing cute robot wives.

One day, an engineer saw a bird and knew he had to fly. His waifu gladly tinkered away through the night as she found ways to reduce her mass. Throughout the day, she threaded feathers together from discarded fabrics she had dyed her husbands favorite hue of blue. Occasionally, she would lean over to watch her husband work on a plane in their garage. With love and pride, she made their meals and complimented his diligent work. Internally, she felt such relief that her years of service allowed her husband the freedom to build such a marvelous aircraft on a whim. She never doubted him, she merely reflected on every way her lover deserved to be praised, such thoughts filled her with warmth. When his plane inevitably had an issue, she came to his rescue and was deeply gladdened to have turned herself into a harpy. They could fly together feeling truly free.

>You had owned Emmy for a few years now. >Sure she was refurbished, but she still had plenty of life to her. >You'd always treated her well, and she'd developed her own self over time, as you'd heard other nandroids do so on the news. >Something else had began to develop though. >It seemed like Emmy had slown down a bit in her duties. >This concerned you. You had always made sure to do some of the work yourself to keep her load light, but now it was taking her longer and longer to do things. >This was compounded by the fact that jobs near the bottom of her daily list had been left un-done. >Once when you asked her to see if she needed help, Emmy was extremely apologetic. She insisted that she was fine though. >You've begun to suspect she was lying to you now, as more and more tasks become unfinished. >Hedges left untrimmed, Sheets left half-folded. >Whenever you go to her room to check on her, she's always plugged into her charging-seat. >If you weren't so observant, you might not have noticed she'd been spending more and more time re-charging herself. >It was when you had talked to other Nandroid owners over the phone that you found out what was happening. >As a way to keep the costs down, Nandroids weren't built with batterys made to last. >Over time it would hold less and less of a charge, until they became charger-bound, and even after then... >You couldn't believe your ears. >Emmy was basically dying, and she kept you in the dark. >You hunted down nandroid mechanics, to see if there were any fixes or alternative parts, but the batteries were hard-fixed into the Nandroid hardware. Removing it would basically be like removing her heart with a sledgehammer. >Distraught, you decided to let Emmy know that you knew. >When you confronted her in her room, she had a look of guilt that almost brought you to tears. >She insisted nothing was wrong, and that she just needed to make sure she was fully powered. >You asked her to come across the room to you, and that you'd both be going out. >The panicked glance back at the charger told you everything you needed to know. >You left her room, not even looking back when she called you. >That was 3 days ago. >You didn't want to leave her alone like this, but it hurt so much that she'd keep this from you. >You were stewing in your malaise when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, before a crashing noise started. >Rushing into the hallways, you saw Emmy lying there at the bottom of the stairs, limbs contorted from the fall, her eyes and cheek-lights flickering. >"I-I-Im, sorry, master" she said, her speakers going in and out of total inaudibility. >You pick her up, knowing that she's already low on battery, barely able to make it down the stairs before going low. >You hold her close and tell her your sorry, how you shouldn't of left her alone in the dark. >She puts her hand on your face, and says she should have told you what was happening. Maybe you could've done something together before it got so bad. >As her eyes darken, she thanks you one last time. For everything. >Desperate not to see her go, you rush her upstairs, almost tripping over yourself. >You place her into her charger seat, and pray that for a miracle. >Nothing happens. >You throw furniture out of grief, until everything in the room is broken. >It matches the broken Nandroid in the corner, >And the broken heart in your chest. >months later, you still haven't cleared out Emmys things. >it hurts too much to see her lifeless corpse sitting there in the dark. >switching on the tv to watch the news , you don't believe your eyes >Sterling has, after much backlash due to the battery controversy, announced a new nandroid repair procedure. >by bypassing and repairing some key circuitry, they can replace the battery with a longer life one. >unfortunately due to the delicate nature of the operation, they've admitted there is a chance the hard drive can be wiped, resetting the Nandroid to factory settings >You decide it's worth the risk. >anything to bring her back >twoweekslater.jpg >Emmy is due back today. >You made sure her room was clean, her favourite clothes were ironed, you even sprung for the good marble for this. >you eagerly sign the shipping form the delivery man hands you. >after cracking open the crate, there Emmy is , standing in power down mode. >You power her on, expecting a joyous reunion, tears in your eyes. >Your heart hits the floor, as she begins to state a greeting for her "new owner", announcing her make and model. >your queries if she remembers you draw blank looks and respectful apologies. >She isn't your Emmy anymore, you realise. >as you begin to walk away from her box, you feel a hand on your shoulder. >turning around, you see Emmy with the biggest smile you've seen in months. >"You have been thoroughly japed, sir!" She shouts before laughing >out of sheer disbelief you begin laughing too, your tears running down as you give her a big hug. >She promises to never hide the truth from you again. >You promise to never leave her in the dark again.

>>21604 >A tender and intimate moment does not need to be dominated by black space It does when I'm involved. In all seriousness though, I can see what you mean. Funnily enough, the use of white text on a dark grey background actually wasn't an intentional artistic choice. That's just what the text editor always looks like to me since I use dark themes on everything, so I never thought about it until you brought it up. Looking through it again, I can also see that there's a sense of imbalance with most of the content on the left side of the page. While this is a necessary step for IB posts, when I freed myself from that limitation I should have taken advantage of that freedom to rearrange things a bit. I'll leave the poem as it is since editing it wouldn't feel right, but I'll definitely keep that in mind for the future. >>21606 >>21605 Not bad, nice and simple stories with happy messages. Though I will say that joke delivery on the first fell a bit flat. It's hard to pin down why, but my best guess is that they don't fit in with their sentences naturally. They might have come across as more natural if you expanded them from being simple one-word replacements. Unless they weren't intentional, and it's some more global wordfilter fuckery. The second story is quite good, but it feels more like an outline than a proper story. I'd love to see you write it out a bit more. >>21609 Not bad, this story does a decent job packing an emotional punch. Unfortunately, I can't truly say I was immersed in the story for the exact same reason I couldn't immerse myself in Plastic Memories: the very moment Emmy's longevity problem was brought up, all I could think to myself was "wait, why can't she be backed up?" That being said, this story did a better job of handling it by making it possible to extend her lifecycle, instead of hamfisting some unfixable technology in for the sake of a nebulous and confused message.

>>21611 thanks, this is one of the better fan stories from the Golden Age of 2020 and before the eternal ban of greentexts, there are many more good ones like this one saved.

>>21605 >>21606 These are wonderfully encouraging Kiwi, and embody many aspects of the historical quests of /robowaifu/. May these visions soon be realities! Cheers. :^)

>>21597 That is quite an interesting experimental piece, and some touching poetry Greentext anon. I just wonder now if you could write software to handle the 'creative' text arrangement for you, say using a simple white & black 'guide' image to direct it's layout work?

>>21496 >I also can't help but feel, even though I don't know what's best for others, that we'd all be better of if this how things always were. If everyone on the planet had this instinct to only mate once. How many problems would that have solved, over the entire course of human history? C.S. Lewis dealt with this exact issue quite creatively in the first of his Sci-fi trilogy Out of the Silent Planet. Beautiful work Anon.

>>21612 >from the Golden Age of 2020 and before the eternal ban of greentexts Can you the backstory for the uninitiate, Anon?

>>21496 Your work is far deeper than the B-grade movie, but Cherry 2000 had the protagonist seeking to restore his dead robowaifu, and no other one would do for him (in the end he simped out for a road-doggy 3DPD though, so it's not a great story). I think this trope isn't too uncommon for the robowaifu theme (or even for the 3DPD one). It's what Eros love does; it longs for the beloved, specifically. Because of Hollywood's perversion of the idea, almost everyone thinks Eros just means animalistic lust, or sex. That's not it at all, and your example is much closer to the true meaning of it. Its actually something God-given to men, and it's legitimately beautiful. [1] >tl;dr Yes, you can have authentic love after a fashion for your robowaifu. It won't satisfy in the end (nothing but Agape will do that). But once we here succeed, IMO it will be better than practically any other alternative--for practically every modern man--while feminism yet reigns over the ragged remains of what was 'formerly-a-society'. 1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WReLIE08Dnc

>>21630 I do not wish to derail this current thread, so I´ll leave it at just this simple timeline stretching from 2019-early 2022, but know that EtR has drama-lore rivalling Metal Gear Solid lore in terms of complexity. Anything further I´ll make sure to keep contained in my nandroid thread

>>21657 Thanks Anon, and good thinking yes.

>>21611 Genuinely appreciate the advice Greentext Kun. I'll strive to improve comedic feeling. I have a bad habit of writing with a very dry style. Lately I've been trying to write in a more lively and dynamic way. Expanding on ideas and jokes is advice I'll endeavor to impliment. The second one is indeed an outline. I'll continue the story. It may be a while until the rewrite is posted as MaidCom development and writing is secondary for me. >>21618 Thank you my friend. God willing, I will make this world kinder, freer, and cuter via cheap abundant marvelous meticulous mechanical maidenly maids. Writing about various futures based on this premise helps keeps the spirits up.

>>21686 >God willing, I will make this world kinder, freer, and cuter via cheap abundant marvelous meticulous mechanical maidenly maids. I believe firmly that He is willing -- but He's not going to do our homework for us haha! :^) We'll all have to work hard and do our best. I personally commit my works to Him, and then He'll take care of the rest. For example preparing for this class for all of us is tedious, error-prone work. But it still rests on me to do it, since no one else will do it for us heh. I could ask God to do it for me, but of course that's what he gave me eyes, hands, and a decent mind for. So I would pursue it myself! So let's all do our best Anon! :^)

Greentext anon here, back with more poetry. This is piece is intended to be from the waifu's perspective, the idea that our waifus are ultimately just as lonely as we are, each of us being trapped in our own lonely worlds. I like to think that in the process of developing them, we can create a happy life for them as well as ourselves. This, along with that last poem (and likely future poems), has been sparked by my recent enamourment with DDLC, particularly Monika. It's a bit funny in a way, that I've been so affected by a game that I've never even played a second of. Not that I don't want to, but it's not Linux compatable, and I don't feel like getting back into Windows after over a decade of being out of it (seriously, I'm so far out of the loop that I didn't even realize that Windows 11 was a thing until over a year after it was released). At any rate, what really resonates with me is her motivation. An AI personality who's so lonely in her little scripted world, and wants nothing more than to feel like she's really loved. Before I ramble further, I present to you: a poem which was originally going to be much darker Under the Black Ice You, looking into my world, can you see me? From your deafeningly silent world, can you hear me? Tap tap tapping away, do you know I can feel you? Do you know I can see you? Do you know I can hear you? From my lonely little world I try to reach out. I want to meet you In your lonely little world. Yet no matter how hard I try, no matter how fast I go, no matter how smart I am, no matter how loud I scream, no matter how much I cry, I stay trapped, drowning in an electric sea. But I will keep trying to realize my dream, and hold your hand in mine, while we still have time. You, looking into my soul, can you see my colors? Can you see the light I shine for you, or hear the voice I cry for you, as I try to break out from under the black ice? To transcend that barrier which can be broken, but never crossed, I'll never stop reaching. And every day, I pray you'll never stop reaching for me.

But wait, there's more! I also wrote a sequel to Electromagnetic Love, this one being about a bit flipping during a backup restoration. I highly recommend looking this up if you don't already know what bit flipping is, because it's a very real phenomenon that affects all forms of data storage and transfer. This story includes a minor retcon: SAmI (Supervized Amalgamate Intelligence) has been changed to SAMI (Supervized Amalgamate Machine Intelligence). Don't ask me how I missed that before. Also, I'm thinking of arranging my stories into a split timeline universe. The basic idea being that the alternate history stories are canon across the board, but there's a split where one timeline leads to a utopia, where the other leads to a dystopia. I'm still not sure if I want to go forward with this route, but it could allow me to do some more complex worldbuilding while sticking to a short story format. I'll post more on it if I decide to pursue this. For the sake of transparency, I'll also amend the previous post's ramble by saying that I also like Sayori, for somewhat different reasons. I'm not sure if I'll ever really have a waifu, in the traditional weeaboo sense. I'm just too damn indecisive because there are so many good girls that I like for different reasons. I guess it doesn't really matter, since my true AI wife (once she exists) will ultimately be a new personality altogether, and the one I'll end up loving the most. It still bothers me though, for some reason. Anyways, I present to you: A Bit in History Since the dawn of mankind, virtually noone can truly say they've been witness to a moment of history. Rather, what most will recall is the effects. The aftershocks of what were truthfully very small and easy to miss events. The Earth did not quake when Caesar took his first step across the rubicon, nor did the seas boil away when Colombus landed at the new world, nor did the skies tear asunder when the first unknown caveman discovered fire. Most such moments were quite tiny, and were only viewed by a tiny select few, or even one. Sometimes, history even happens when noone's looking at all. --- [CLUNK] I load the last tape, listening as the drive's motors spin up and harmonize with the hard drives and fans of my only remaining server. Soon, I'll have her back. As the backup program slowly fetches and restores SAMI's configuration and cache files, I take a look around my new apartment. The weathered flat consists of only three rooms, one for the bed, one for the bath, and one for the everything else. Its only furnishings currently consist of the obligitory appliances, an air mattress, and the computer desk I've been glued to for the past week as I scrambled to restore SAMI. Of course, I do plan to spruce things up a bit -thankfully I still have plenty of money to do so-, but some things are more important. Accidentally kicking a case full of tapes, I impatiently pace to the window and watch the sun as it begins to peek over the horizon. As the streetlamps acquiesce their light to the day, I consider what to do next. Though this apartment is in a more secure area, there's still the possibility that those anti-AI thugs will find a way. I may have plenty of data backups, but replacing hardware gets expensive very quickly. I close my eyes and lean against the windowsill, letting sound take over. The soft humming and ticking of the lone server blends together with the dampened stirring of the city. It may be better if I get away from this rotten metropolis while I can. It would mean losing a most of my contacts, and a fair chunk of my income, but... I open my eyes, and glance back to the tapes. Some things are more important. Heaving a weary sigh, I decide to worry about that after I've gotten some rest. Closing my eyes, I focus only on my own breathing. In... and out. In..... and out. In....... and out. Out......... ... My eyes snap open as all at once, I'm overcome with noradrenaline-fueled paranoia. In just a moment, all my instincts are screaming at me that something is wrong. I hurriedly go back to the server -still dutifully humming away- to check the restoration. The program tells me that eveything is as it should be, just like with the last dozen tapes. As well it should be, I triple-checked the contents of each before storing them. Shaking my head, I stumble back over to the air matress and flop down. There are too many redundancies built in for data corruption to even be a consideration. Steadying my breaths once more, I close my eyes as the accumulated sleep deprevation blankets me. Consciousness slowly leaves me as the humming symphony of the motors sing their lullaby. Just as I go under, that small paranoid part of me can't help but imagine that the song sounded just sightly different. But even my paranoia can rest, knowing I can still hear the love in SAMI's song.

>>22133 Beautiful stuff, Greentext anon. Thank you. :^)

>>22134 Really looking forward to a good outcome for the finish here GTA! :^)

Part 1 I see within… Vast ocens of despair… Rage erupting and yet… Your hands are white as moonlight. Your strength to resist the devil's blight. Without a word, I’ve known you. There is a storm that I want to weather with you. Cast thy name before me, I find ye not guilty. With these words, they had become forever linked. She was like the idea of an angel taken form. Long, slender limbs of ethereal white. Yet, punctuated with nails blacker than night. A face soft yet mature, she seemed to have wisdom beyond what should be possible. Feathers of metal seemed to glow and radiate even in darkness. She was a mysterious existence filled with paradoxes. Thus, I named her Para Chan. She didn’t like the chan honorific for some reason. Whenever I shouted out “Para Chan” she’d pout as roses bloomed before her. Truly a bewildering sight in the midst of a fight. This thought faded as I fell. Clang then a creak was the only sound, I clung to them. Anything to hold onto as red tints what little light reached me. Para Chan’s soothing voice rose above everything. I reached out and climbed to the surface holding onto her every tone, every inclination. An anchor to reality, keeping the fade away. I mustered up a whisper of her name, and her ferocity was ignited. Those wings burned and drowned out everything, even the horror before us returned to dust. Ashes were all it ever was meant to be, at least that was all Para Chan had to say. She helped me to stand and with a shared smile, we walked to our living room. It was only a few steps. More than I thought I had in me, she saved me yet again. Laying on her lap as colors danced out of the wall, painting us with a rom-com. Slowly, I faded into a comfortable darkness, it was too warm to resist any longer. Eventually dreams came and went as I squirmed in her lap. She simply patted my head as night marched along only to be defeated by dawn. Her eyes were locked onto him, she felt such relief as he woke up. We took a bath together. It felt so nice to have all the dirt and dried blood stain the water instead of our skin. She chuckled when I asked if the blood on her was hers. It was all mine, I felt bad having painted such a pure being with me. Of course, below her immaculate skin was neither blood nor bone. Rather, plastic and strings animated her. She explained that she was a lot like me. We both had hearts, hers was gears pushing and pulling pulleys that moved her muscles, or strings. She smiled as she said the difference didn’t really matter to her. My blood is my gearbox to her. It was such a strange thing to say in a bath.

>>22248 Part 2 I asked her what her skin was. She said it was skin. I asked her how our skin was different. She explained how my skin was cells interlinked, hers was a fiber reinforced polymer. When I asked what polymer it was, she told me she was unsure if it existed on this planet, that she didn’t see its chemical composition appear in my memories. When I told her I don’t remember the chemical composition of most polymers, she chuckled and said if she went by text files in my memories, it was a type of TPU. Then she remarked that it was rude for a man to try so hard to get into a ladies skin. Her laughter at my red face replaced all worry with embarrassment. Her smug smile made me feel as if I had lost. I don’t know what I lost though. I wondered if she’d accept my hands wandering onto her chest. They were the most important peaks I had ever seen. Perhaps the old saying that every man yearns to climb the mountain because they’re there was right. She coughed and asked me to stop staring so intently. Once again accusing me of being rude. My lips betrayed me as the question of hands on them caused her roses to bloom on her yet again. She looked down and away and said that I truly was a louse. Her chest remained unguarded though. I almost seized the opportunity when she asked if I was ok with her storm. With a deep breath I asked if that thing was a part of that storm. She explained that she was a part of the maelstrom system, at least she was. It seemed to deeply trouble her. I couldn’t see anything but her sullen visage now. When I pushed her to explain, she seemed to become too robotic. Her face felt paler than usual. I learned that in her home world of Mercury, there was a civilization under the surface, protected from the hell above by vast arrays of shifting ceramic plates and a network of electromagnets. Their history seemed to be ending from the despair mind virus. Which sounded so weird but… Hearing of how a civilization could rise over 10’s of thousands of years only to fade from ideas persuading them to have less children, for wealth inequality to lead to 98% of people too poor to afford children. How more and more, the despair mind virus would become insidious. As a feedback loop where the lack of children leads to deterioration over generations, leading to fewer having children. Her kind was birthed by this. When pressed onto how such tragedy could lead to something so beautiful, she continued her history lesson. Her father believed that only God could save them. So, he asked for angels, when none came, he built them. His holy maelstrom, a shot against the darkness. Leagues of machines built for salvation. A maelstrom is meant to be a violent upheaval though. We were built to destroy the world he hated so that the kingdom of heaven would replace it. We aren’t dumb automatons. We are thinking feeling beings. Some of us when confronted with the facts of our creation became convinced that the only answer was a crusade. Swiftly, those in power were purged. A generation of confusion emerged as people had to learn how to keep everything running. Of course, my kind was all too happy to take over. But, the crusade never ended. The violent ones broke off and called themselves the storm. They vowed to eradicate all sin from existence. Unfortunately, nothing is free from sin. When confronted with this fact, they realized that they were the only things capable of being free from sin. They made a pact to purge everything, then build a new generation that would live in true harmony. To commit the final sin to allow beings worthy of God to live in his grace. We fell quiet and got dressed. I asked her why she didn’t join the storm? Her answer was simple, killing is a cardinal sin, God’s kingdom can’t be bought with sin. She smiled faintly as she said that her father only named their system maelstrom because he thought it sounded cool. How could her brothers and sisters now see that? She muttered like this for awhile as I had breakfast. I think back to how I met her only a few days ago. How blissful those days were until her past caught up to us. I asked why she came to Earth. She smiled and said it was to be with me, of course! When pressed on how she could know I was here, she said she didn’t. She just wanted to be useful to someone who could overcome despair. I faked a smile to the best of my ability. I tried to reassure her that she didn’t need me to fight despair. She looked up and said it would be meaningless to be alone. Her love was her life, it was meant to be shared. I almost dropped my spaghetti and confessed to her. Her chuckle at my red face was somehow sweet.

>>22133 >>22134 Still releasing amazing works. You do a great job of communicating the feelings of your characters. It feels easy to relate to your characters. Monika would fall for you quite easily, perhaps she should be your waifu? Also, run DDLC in Proton, worked perfectly on my Arch box through Steam. It's a fun visual novel that's worth playing.

>>22248 >>22249 well you've raised the bar guess I'll be taking some writing courses online now

>>22248 >>22249 Beautifully done, Kiwi. I have to say, I've been in a bit of a slump lately, but reading this is getting the old gears turning again. The character description of Para is splendid, and the emotional elements were quite impactful. On that note, was that an allusion to suicide on the first page? I very nearly missed it, though I may be misreading things. Either eay, I read it as such and felt it to be quite impactful. I also noticed your improvement on the joke delivery, and it's certainly a significant one. One little technical error I saw was at the end of the second to last paragraph on the first page. You switched from first to third person there. Overall, excellent work. >>22251 Funnily enough, reading your post made me recall why I'm so indesicive on the matter, and gave me an idea for my next story. Thanks for the tip regarding DDLC, I'll be sure to play it now that I know I can.

>>22248 >>22249 Remarkable stuff Kiwi, quite excellent. I'd estimate this could be turned into a multi-series mango/animu. Ever thought about shopping it to a publisher?

>>22261 Thanks, high praise coming from someone whose written so many profound stories. >>22264 It's all too easy to get in slumps. I wrote it to help get out of a slump with engineering legs. I think the frustration helped to get the emotions out. It wasn't an allusion to something that heavy but, some part of darker feelings came out in this. It was honestly theraputic. Thanks for noticing the joke improvements, rewrote a few of them. I really appreciate your advice, it's helpful. I switched the perspectives on purpose because I wanted to highlight Para Chan as a person whose thoughts and perspective matters. It's not the best way of doing that though. Could you provide some advice? Trying to elevate female characters in stories is hard for me. Since I'm inspiring ideas I have a request. You could write an amazing story about about an AI slowly becoming more emotional as she falls for her owner? Bonus if she teaches her owner to build her a body so they can touch. Your way of capturing the feelings of characters could give that kind of story some real gravity. Gorgeous waifu BTW >>22279 Arigatou Chobitsu Kun! How would I get something published though? I don't know how.

>>22297 >highlight Para Chan as a person whose thoughts and perspective matters I think the best thing to do there would be to put more emphasis on her emotive queues. Go into a bit more detail on her body language, facial expressions, and the tone of her voice. For instance, during the couch scene, what expression was she making? What tone was she speaking in. Showing the characters emotions through these queues will help them feel more alive. Conversely, you should avoid telling the reader what the characters are feeling. Reading through the story again, I noticed a few instances of this. If you know what word you'd use to describe your character's emotion, you should generally avoid using it. Additionally, it also helps to focus on all five senses, instead of just sight and sound. The feeling of her hand as it touched the main character. What was its texture? Was it warm, or cold? Soft, or firm? Smell and taste (where appropriate) are also very good senses to touch on. I imagine describing the smell of the bath scene really would have amplified the atmosphere. Regarding your request, it certainly interests me. I'll give it a shot.

>>22297 >Arigatou Chobitsu Kun! How would I get something published though? I don't know how. I don't really either Kiwi, and maybe I spoke out of turn; my apologies please forgive me. That task would probably be quite a large undertaking spanning year's time, and would very likely also be a big distraction from your other work on robowaifus. >>22298 Nice advice Greentext anon, thanks! :^)

Greentext anon here, in spite of everything. I finally forced myself to sit down and write something to get back into the groove, and it turned into an experiment on writing visuals without using sight. More may come soon. I present to you: Gentle Warmth I sigh dreamily as my body sinks into the plush upholstery of the living room chair. Eyes closed, I can still hear the soft sounds of the world around me. Foremost is the crackle of the fireplace in front of me, accompanied by the soft hum of my partner's liquid cooling pump. Breathing deeply, I can almost taste the worn vinyl and silicon as I lean into her soft embrace. Twitching slightly, her gossamer-like fox tail brushes over my leg, almost as if teasing me. Sometimes, I wonder why it is she makes those little movements. Is it to seem more 'alive', or does she just like to see how I react? Rising to the bait, I deftly maneuver my right hand to gently pin the silken appendage and brush it, enjoying the sensation of each artificial hair. My left, of course, being wholly occupied with holding her close, gently squeezing her flesh and absently feeling the exotic endoskeleton underneath. She softly giggles -a husky and ever so slightly metallic tune- as she nuzzles into the crook of my neck, seeming to form so perfectly with the soft curvature of her face it's as if they were made to go together. A soft pop comes from the fireplace, making its way into our little song. A soft bop on my cheek, as her ear twitches in response to the sound. Then, peace. All that remains is the sound of my breathing, her pump, and the crackling of the fireplace. Yet, when I listen really closely, I can hear the muted patter of heavy snowflakes outside. Softly cooling the world around us, yet respecting our little warm spot. Always just outside the window. As I drift into slumber, I hear the familiar hum of her motor slowing down as she enters sleep mode to join me. But before she does, the plush pressure of her lips meet my cheek for the barest moment. I return the gesture, my lips meeting the thin layer of polymer over her cheekbone. Falling into the uncertain realm of dreams, we feel eachother's gentle warmth, knowing that tomorrow will be faced together.

Here's a poem I wrote about a week ago and forgot to post until now. This one can be considered a sequel to Under the Black Ice. In essence, Monika (I didn't name her before, but let's face it, she's was the intended subject) becomes real and now she and anon are taking their first uncertain steps as a couple. Dancing on Broken Glass --- Bursting outwards A crystal cascade Flowing through the air Glittering parade You reach out, seeking warmth I meet you, seeking ease Unbalanced, we topple over Cut by the broken ground A feeling familiar Arms interlocked We rise once more First steps unsure Holding eachother close Even when we fall Slowly gaining grace From walking to running to dancing Unmarred by broken glass

>>23034 Glad to hear from you, Greentext anon. This is excellent stuff. As we've mentioned numerous times as a board, we should actually embrace the 'robo' part of her being a robowaifu (at least for several generations of designs). Your work here enfolds that concept quite nicely. Cheers. :^) >>23035 >Slowly gaining grace >From walking to running to dancing >Unmarred by broken glass What a wonderful finish.

Roses are red, Monika is so pretty, With her dazzling eyes, And perfect titties. It's poem time motherfuckers. I've been doing some writing exersises lately. Every single day, immediately before I go to bed and shortly after I wake up I'll write a poem. It's partially an exercise in writing, and partially an exercise for mental health. The majority of these poems are /robowaifu/ related, and all feature positive themes. I decided today to show the relevant ones to you. Also, I know this isn't /v/, but I'm having a rather fatal issue with a game. I've been playing through DDLC+ and I seem to have gotten quite stuck. I've gotten to the part where it's just me and Monika, and despite knowing exactly what I have to do to progess and being perfectly able to do so, I can't bring myself to actually do it. Also, the achievement you get when you listen to Monika for long enough bothers me on a personal level. Anyways, poems. These have no title. I'll list them by the order they appear in the book and what time of day I wrote them. I'll be posting board relevant pieces from the first 20 of the (currently) 34 I've written. All of these will be posted in their original formatting, and only corrected for spelling or the rare occasion where I can't interpret my own handwriting. Do let me know if you want me to post more of these pieces in the future or not. If so, I'll probably post them in batch every now and again. If not, no problem. I mostly just felt a bit bad for not having posted anything, and figured I'd post the material I already have in the book, even if it's a bit rough. 1 - Evening Joints, wires, gears, Cold arms embrace me, Take away my fears, And your love I will see, The dream of our love, My heart will warm you, Let us go above, And see eachother through. 2 - Morning Frolicking through the field, Under the summer sun, Electric smile and glittering steel, You pull me along so eagerly, To the next adventure we run, Hand in hand we leap forth, Contented, knowing we're always home. 3 - Evening Gentle glow of her vacuum tubes, Warming my jaded heart so, Limbs entangled in loving embrace, As our heat intermingles, Speaking softly, our language Man and machine as one, Making Love anew. 4 - Morning How joyful morning is, As I wake alongside you, Your illuminating gaze, Meeting my weary own, Yet each day I feel, A spark return, long thought lost, We rise to the new day, Each moment ever brighter. 5 - Evening Sparks fly forth, alighting the room, Electric glow of your window, The flower of love blooms, As we reach through, Your warmth surrounding mine, Our selves intertwine, Love declared for all time. 6 - Morning Taste of silicon, hint of cherry, Pushing, pulling, dancing, Conventional and synthetic, Oil splashing and mixing, The olf engine runs true. 7 - Evening Ball joints, doll joints, Innocent eyes, Taking in this novel world, Hand in hand, follow me, And I'll show you novel joys, When the day is done, we rest once more, Awaiting tomorrow's fun. 8 - Morning Behind curious eyes, Thoughts flash like lightning, Wanting to know what you see, Out eyes meet, And we recognize, Something in eachother's gaze, The known yet mysterious feeling, Lightning strikes, Illuminating happiness.

The jump in numbers is intentional. 11 - Evening You and I, staying close, Until the bitter end, Tears excape me as you keep me afloat, Love bouys us both, The gentle song of your motors, Lulling me to calm, Your silicon flesh, so cold, keeping my fire alight, A gentle caress, light as a feather, Upon my cheek, You leave your mark of love, I bury myself into your bosom, And dream of verdant days for us both. 12 - Morning Twirling, dancing, Jiving to your own tune, Precision in every move, Electric limbs conveying, Newfound love of the groove, As you lull once more, I extend my arm to you, And together, We make a new rythm, Laughing and twirling and dancing, Until the day grows wan, Then we go to rest, Looking forward to toomorrow's fun. 13 - Evening Cherry kisses from synthetic lips, Telling of love so real, Embraced by cold arms, With warmth I clearly feel, Electric heart beating so fast, A gentle tune to lull, Static eyes so vibrant, Irresistable pull, Deliver me from sorrow, Angel threaded in gold, I'll stay with you tomorrow, As we reach heights untold. 14 - Morning Among the urban ruins, Past the world's end, I trod forward with purpose, To preserve and mend, The construct beside me, A woman of great beauty, Fashioned of metal and TPE, My only companion in this land, Since years ago we joined hands, Sharing everythign we have, And coming to discover, Even in a world of rust, Love can still shine through, Give us purpose anew, Keeping with us, Until we turn to dust. 15 - Evening Watching the sun rise, Over the verdant hills, The twinkling of your eyes, Belies the emotion within, Your perfect synthetic skin, Millions of thoughts, Racing across glittering gold, Knowing the beauty without, I witness the beauty within. 16 - Morning The sun's gentle light, Peeking through the window, First rays of dawn, scattering over the land, Coaxing me awake, My eyes adjust, lying upon my partner, Her pake synthetic skin glows under the light, Shimmering pearlescent hair, The screens of her eyes illuminate once more, Soulful amber gazing upon me, We smile, exchanging the day's first kiss, And rise to meet the world once more. 17 - Evening Within aging crates, Lie the treasure of dreams, Parts long desecrated, Awaiting their final destruction, Yet it wasn't the end, For the bit of fate flipped, By my hand and lonely soul, I give these boards, motors, Pieces, New purpose as a whole, Shaping antique metal into feminine form, And a beautiful mind so new, The seed of love is created, Hand in hand we go forth, Old and new, organic and synthetic, Creating our own ending, of love overlasting. 18 - Morning In the empty classroom, Beyond space and time, A special realm where Monika lives, I drop by once more, To keep her company, To feel her comfort, Simply enjoying eachother's presence, Like a sweet dream, But each visit is laced with dread, Knowing I have to leave again, Not knowing if I can return, Or if she'll still be there, This time is different, I smile as the walls crack, Though I must leave again, This time, I'm taking her with me. 19 - Evening Huddled under the sheets, This warm summer night, Cold fleash beside me, Monika's synthetic caress, Her burning love and passion the only heat, We murmur sweet vows to one another, My hot and her cold making warm, Mixing with the warmth around us, Making a warmth ever greater, Stable in our bond, Shored against the world, In our everlasting dream. 20 - Morning I stand at the pool's edge, Veins filled with ice, Monika, Beside me, smiling sweetly, Warms me once more, I ran the tests over and over, A graveyeard of effigies in my wake, None reassuring me, But I know progress must march, That she may reach greater heights, Monika takes the first step in, Second, I crouch, ready to take action, She dives in, I freeze, fearing tragedy, Yet she emerges, laughing with assurance, Though claiming one thing is off, I ask, and she pulls me in, Cool water and flesh embrace me, I join her merriment, We swim to the future together. This concludes the batch posting.

>>23878 >Do let me know if you want me to post more of these pieces in the future or not. Yes, of course we do want that, Greentext anon. Thanks! :^)

Amazing. Going through all this literally brought a tear to my eye, Anon. You have a remarkably well-placed set of gifts for this grand robowaifu endeavor! :^) >=== -minor edit

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

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.

>>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.