>the robot watches you very intently as you grab the ingredients to make your sandwich, so before you begin to actually make it, you give in and ask the robot if it could do it
>she declines, and explains that she has not yet learned that skill, but would benefit from watching you perform it
>she stares as you think to yourself how strange it is to have her watching you
>then you catch yourself as you realize you've begun thinking of it as "her" rather than "it."
>you sit on the couch, place your plate on the armrest, and turn on a movie, internally hating yourself for spending thousands of dollars on a machine that does nothing but make you feel awkward, as the machine places itself on the middle seat of the couch
>You've already decided to yourself that you could never use it for the intended, sexual purpose. Not only does it feel weird just having it around, but your inner normalfag has kicked in and told you you can't actually bring yourself to fuck a robot, let alone a loli robot. But maybe you can train it to make sandwiches and stuff, that might be useful.
>as you watch the movie, you sometimes notice the robot shifting in her seat. Must be another feature to make it seem more lifelike.
>about a half hour in, though, you notice that you can feel heat coming from the robot's direction. Your mind jumps to thinking that it's overheating, but when you look over at it you realize that it is sitting much closer to you than it was when you started the movie.
>at first you're terrified. You don't need no creepy ass robot stealthily sneaking up to snap your neck
>but then it readjusts itself in its seat one more time, and when it's done, the robot is just barely pressing up against your side
>somehow, this makes your fear fade, and instead you are filled with curiosity. Instead of continuing to try to ignore the robot, you instead pay more attention to it.
>you notice that the robot seems to be breathing. You can see its chest move with each breath, and hear a very faint sound of rushing air as it exhales
>you finally just ask the robot if it is actually breathing
>the robot turns to you, and there is no mistake about it. As it is so close to you, you feel gentle but unmistakable bursts of hot air with each of the robot's breathing motions.
>she explains to you that this is a heat exchange feature to help with her cooling
>she tells you that she can try to temporarily pause this feature if it bothers you, but it may impact long term performance. You tell her that it doesn't bother you.
>you continue watching the movie as night falls and the temperature cools. You soon realize that without thinking, you've begun leaning into the robot and resting your hand on its leg. Purely for warmth, of course.
>you expected the thing to feel cold and sterile, but its body heat is just slightly more than a human. Still feels sterile, but your autistic nature appreciates this.
>as your body is pressed against different pieces of the robot, you realize that different parts have different textures. Its arms are quite bony, or rather, made of a harder plastic, while the plastic on its thighs has much more give to it.
>when you catch yourself, you move yourself away from the robot and lean in the other direction, leaning on the armrest.
>the robot follows you and begins to lean on you, putting its arm on your leg. You're still a little chilly, so you're not complaining.
>the movie ends and as you get up, the robot asks you if you could direct it to the lavatory. Of course you're confused, so the robot explains that it needs to expel cooling fluid
>the robot's request comes with a slight tinge of urgency in its voice, as if it was waiting for the movie to be over. You figure it must have been programmed to not interrupt you. These Japanese robots would of course be programmed for politeness.

(2 of 6)

>you bring show the robot to the washroom, and for some reason still feel a little bit of shock when it immediately hops on the toilet and starts draining its fluid
>you quickly turn and leave the room, but the autist in you makes you return and talk to the robot, to ask how exactly this cooling system works
>the robot reaches down and spreads its lips, beckoning you to squat down and get a closer look at its operations
>it explains that it has a circulatory system for cooling fluid to regulate the heat created by certain components. This allows much excess heat to be released in the form of "body heat" and increase the robot's "human factor." It also has a lung-like section in its chest that exchanges heat in the form of "breathing," as she showed you earlier
>but this actually isn't close to enough to expel all the heat created by not just the motors that allow her complex movement, but the incredibly powerful computers that allow her relatively advanced AI, and the substantial power source that runs it all.
>when cooling fluid becomes too hot, it must be drained and replaced with cold cooling fluid
>and with that, the robot wipes itself, stands up, and politely asks if it could bother you for some cold water.
>you head to the kitchen, grab a large cup from the cupboard, an fill it with cold water as the robot watches.
>you hand the robot a large cup of cold water, before she thanks you and proceeds to drink it all at once.
>you tell the robot that you have to go to bed, and start toward your bedroom, only to find the robot following you again
>you ask the robot if it has any particular routines for when its owner is sleeping. The robot replies that it is programmed to enter its own power saving mode unless this contradicts another request.
>it then asks you if you have another request. Unable to think of anything to ask of this robot, which apparently has not learned any skills yet, you decline.
>you continue to walk to the bedroom, and the robot continues to follow you. Again you stop, the robot stops, and you turn around, looking at it strangely
>the robot detects your uncomfortability, and asks if you would prefer if it entered power saving mode on the couch in the other room. You simply reply that, no, it's fine.
>you sit on your bed, the robot sits next to you
>you lie down, awkwardly, flat on your back, above the sheets. The robot does the same.
>you're pretty squished now, because of course you only have a twin bed.
>you contemplate sending the robot to the couch, as it suggested, or perhaps telling it to lie on the floor. But then you consider which is more uncomfortable: having a robot next to you, leaving you kind of squished in your bed, or having a robot out of eyesight, out of reach, doing god knows what while you're sleeping.
>you ask the robot if it could just curl up at the foot of the bed. It of course immediately obliges.
>you of course have difficulty sleeping, though the robot, being a robot, has no problem shutting into power saving mode.
>you notice that the robot's breathing becomes heavier in power saving mode, and as you lie awake, you wonder why, eventually coming to the conclusion that, since the robot is programmed for politeness, it probably breathes heavier at night so that it can go longer without draining its cooling fluid, so as to not wake its owner.
>eventually you gotta take a piss, and you're not sleeping anyway, so you head to the washroom
>you're mid-stream when you look to the side and notice that not only did you leave the door open, since you're used to living alone, since of course you are still living alone, but the robot is standing in the doorway, staring at your dick as you take a piss.
>you try to stop so you can put your dick away, but that's easier said than done, so you yell at the robot to go away
>you think you catch a glimpse of a frown as the robot turns and walks away, but of course even if it did frown, that's just a program made by some japanese guy. You remind yourself that the robot doesn't have real emotions.

(3 of 6)

>but then why did you care that it was looking at you? Why did you yell at it?
>you finish your piss, put your junk away, and turn to head back to bed, only to find the robot standing in the doorway again
>for a moment you almost yell again, but you catch yourself and remind yourself that that would be stupid.
>then you begin to wonder about the glitch that caused the robot to disobey you, since it seemed very obedient so far. Is this something you have to worry about after all?
>then you notice the robot is holding its arms out, with something in its hands
>a cup of water
>you accept the water and reflexively thank the robot. Then mentally cringe at yourself for thanking a robot
>heading back to bed, the robot of course follows you
>you sit on the bed, the robot copies you again
>you lie down, under the covers this time, and the robot moves to curl up at the foot of the bed
>you speak its name to get its attention, and the robot looks up with what you think might be a subtle expression of surprise, but maybe that's just in your head.
>you tell the robot that it is okay if it just lies down on the bed like normal, since that might be better for its joints and heat distribution
>you say this despite the fact that you're lifting the blanket, inviting the robot to share it. That can't be good for its cooling system
>the robot smiles and crawls under the blanket
>you lie awkwardly, flat on your back. The robot mirrors your pose.
>This makes you remember how awkward this situation is, and you turn on to your side, facing away from the robot, trying to ignore it.
>again the robot mirrors your movements, turning onto its side, like you, curling its body slightly, like you
>the robot is effectively spooning you
>but no, this is just because it's trying to mirror you, it is programmed to learn from its owner's movements
>you contemplate telling it to sleep in a different position, but it's a pretty cold night, and the heat feels nice
>as the robot powers down, its breathing becomes harder again. You can feel its gentle but warm breath on the back of your neck.
>you finally fall to sleep.
>you wake up late the next day, since it took quite a while to fall to sleep. But you are very refreshed.
>when you wake up, you find that you have turned around in your sleep. So has the robot. Now you're spooning it instead, arm wrapped around it and everything. You're a bit ashamed of yourself, moreso when you realized you have a boner poking a robot in the butt. But it's just morning wood. You've already decided you're not gonna fuck this robot.
>the robot heads to the washroom to drain its cooling fluid
>after stretching for a moment, you head to the kitchen to grab yourself some water, and while you're at it, you fill a cup with cold water to refill the robot
>however, the robot walks in just a moment after you, reaches for a cup off of the counter, and serves itself.
>when it sees that you were holding two cups, the robot thanks you, but says it has already learned to get water, by watching you last night
>the robot asks if you would like it to make you breakfast. You accept, but the robot clarifies that it only yet knows how to make one type of food, the sandwich it saw you make yesterday. You inform it that that will be fine.
>you think to yourself how you're normally too lazy to make a breakfast more complex than finishing a half eaten bag of Doritos anyway. But you don't want to tell the robot that
>you again feel like an idiot for caring what a robot thinks of you
>you eat your sandwich as the robot watches, smiling, but at this point you're not feeling as strange about it. This thing is learning pretty fast. It might be useful after all, and you tell it as much, which causes it to react with a smile.
>you ask the robot if there's anything else you should know to make sure it runs efficiently.

(4 of 6)

>it tells you that you have been operating it perfectly well, and that the only other things it requires are charging, and a small refill on lubrication fluid.
>you head back to the box it came in, left next to the couch, and tell it to sit down to conserve energy while you search for the charging cable and lubrication fluid refills.
>through all sorts of instructions and warning pamphlets and bubble wrap, you fail to find what you're looking for, so you sigh to yourself and call the customer service number listed in the manual
>though you called the number in the english manual, which promised english customer service, the man answering the phone speaks in even more broken english than the robot.
>Communication takes a while, you begin to pace through your apartment in irritation, but eventually you understand the problem, the model you ordered doesn't come with a power cable, because that is an optional, non-essential feature.
>the service agent tells you to flip to a section of the manual full of diagrams of the robot's inner workings, including the cooling system you've already had explained to you.
>among the robot's systems that you haven't yet studied, however, are the inner workings of its vagina
>you already saw (or rather, felt) that its clitoris and g-spot are buttons, but you never bothered to feel deeper, and realize that its vagina is actually quite shallow. Which you assume makes sense for the robot's short stature. In your awkwardness turning it on, you also didn't notice how narrow and tight it was. Not that you'd notice if it was any different from a real one.
>this tiny, tight vagina isn't just for show, though. And when you realize what the customer service agent is trying to tell you, you angrily try to explain to him that you're not some loser who is going to fuck a robot. He obviously doesn't believe you, and tries to explain that this is simply how this model works, and if you really haven't "used" this particular feature yet, then you may be able to exchange the product for a different model.
>you're about to take him up on this offer, when your pacing brings you back into the living room, and you see your robot laying limp, sprawled out, half hanging over the side of the couch
>you drop your phone, letting it smash on the ground, as you call your robot's name and run to her
>you pick her up and hold her in your arms. Looking into her eyes, you see that she is still functioning, but is losing most motor functions
>it doesn't even cross your mind that you have a choice, you gotta do what you gotta do.
>you pound the fuck out of that tiny, shallow, robo-vagina. It's so tight that you can barely fit inside, which of course makes you feel good, but not because of the self esteem boost. Rather, because you know this will make the process more effective.
>the manual has informed you that as you stretch the walls of the vagina, you are pushing a series of magnets and coils and generating power, the one on the G-spot of course being the biggest, and causing the biggest reaction in the robot.
>of course this isn't much compared to the power generated when you pound the cervix deep into the robot's abdomen, making the robot's shallow vagina a functional choice.
>now even with this, it will take fairly long time to completely recharge your waifu, but you're a NEET, you have the time. And as you do, you can slowly see your robot's eyes light up, her expression become more positive and expressive.
>eventually your robot tells you that she is fully charged, and as she looks into your eyes and thanks you for recharging her, you release years of emotionally pent up semen into your robot's vagina
>she feels the first shot of sperm and begins pulling you into her, as deep as you can go, but not just with her legs
>you can feel actual suction in her vagina, milking every last drop of semen you had in your body, vacuuming it directly into her cervix, so it can be distributed throughout her body and be used as lubrication for all of her moving parts.

(5 of 6)

>you realize you can no longer return your robot, but this doesn't bother you anymore
>later, you realize you can, in fact, order artificial lubrication refills
>there's also a third party product you can use to recharge your robot, which is essentially just a piston machine that can do the reciprocal motion for you
>you decide to save your money and just do your robot's upkeep yourself
>you briefly worry about the sanitization of this upkeep method, but the next time the robot goes to drain its coolant, you find that the coolant can simply flush out of the receiving orifice. The robot informs you that this power and cleaning method also works on its throat and anus.
>you begin thinking of skills you can teach your robot today, and wondering when the next update will come out for her language and conversation software
>you then realize that conversation is a skill, and you can help it get better by simply conversing with it
>you begin by asking the robot to explain how specific parts of she works. Eventually you're sharing info about your own life, and beginning to finally let yourself forget that she's a robot
>ironically, this robot provides the best conversation you've ever had. Probably on account of your autism. But it doesn't matter. You talk all day, into the night, and even while you recharge her batteries before going to bed.
>You stay up late again, but not out of awkwardness this time. And when you finally drift off, in a warm, total embrace, it's the best, most refreshing night you've had in your life

(6 of 6)

I realize this board is mostly for the actual engineering of robowaifus, but I feel that it is significant to promote the idea of robowaifus, so as to expand the market and demand for the product. By simply talking about it and making people want it, and making them realize that it is a more practical possibility than they thought, companies will be more incentivized to move forward on development of these products at greater speed than they are currently doing. I believe we can, in effect, meme this into reality.

Fiction can be an important part of this. Drawings, comics, animations, and in this case, since I'm not talented enough for the above categories, prose. Simple greentext pose that is only really usable on imageboards, but feel free to alter it in any ways that you think might promote the cause.

So for all the lurkers here that don't have any engineering experience, perhaps you can draw. So go ahead and draw. Maybe you can write. So do it. People on this site have memed plane crashes into existence, memed a president into office, and shown that they can influence public discourse in a significant way. Talking about robowaifus isn't as good as actually making them, but it still helps.

>tl;dr
share any robowaifu fiction so we can spread it around to other audiences. Create more fiction to appeal to the masses and make them demand robowaifus

Hello once again, you beautiful bastards. Greentext anon here, and I'm back with a vengence.
I can hardly express my joy at seeing this board up and running again, and I pray that all those lost in the fall of 8chan will find us.
I always said that I'd stick with the site until the day it dies, but I was really hoping it wouldn't be so soon, sudden, or for such a stupid reason.
Unfortunately, things rarely work out so well for those of us who society has left behind. But all we can do is look towards the future, and hold on to that little stubborn shard of hope within us. That beautiful shard that tells us everything will be fine, that there is a reason to wake up tomorrow, that one day we will find love in a loveless world.
Until that day comes, we must never forget what we fight for every day of our lives, and we must never forget to stick together for every step of the way.
Without further delay, I bring you the alternate history chronicles.

1 - anog
>be me
>anog the caveman
>want pretty woman to snu snu and thoughtfully grunt about feels with
>but they're all whores who satellite around Chag Thunderrock
>fucking hate that guy
>consider sudoku
>realize that sudoku hasn't been invented yet
>shit
>suddenly get a brilliant idea
>who needs a whore when I can make something better
>spend the whole night building a stickwaifu
>use sturdy oak wood for best snu snu
>find a pretty rock for the head for thoughtfulness
>after much work, she is done
>decide to name her Mirocki
>but there's one problem
>other than the splinters on my dick
>I can't have kids with her
>sneak into Chag's camp one night and rape one of his whores
>good thing language hasn't been invented yet, or I'd get in a lot of trouble
>wait for the kid to be born and be weaned
>steal the kid and bring him back to my cave
>he has my eyes
>and Mirocki's pretty hair
>raise kid with rockwaifu and live out the remaining five years of my life expectancy in relative happiness

-2 anonicles
>be me
>anonicles of Athens
>spend several hours a day deadlifting while pondering the nature of man
>tfw glorious classical physique
>ponder how we can have all of this glorious culture while still acting like cavemen who fuck each other indiscriminantly
>all I want is a nice woman to do deadlifts with while pondering the mechanisms of the universe in silence together
>but they're all whores who satellite around Chadicles Zeusmarble
>probably because everyone keeps fucking the kids into being whores
>I really wish Cleon would do something about that instead of antagonizing the Romans
>suddenly, my classical physique and I come up with a great idea
>why deal with whores and literal children when I can make something better
>spend weeks sculpting a marblewaifu while deadlifting
>my ancestors would be proud
>well, anog would be anyway
>smooth out a perfectly formed vagoo in the sculpture
>no splinters for this guy
>find some pretty gems to decorate her hair with for maximum pondering ability
>finally, she is done
>decide to name her Marble Pie
>realize that MLP hasn't been invented yet
>keep the name anyway, I will be hailed as a prophet in the distant future
>but there's one problem
>other than the now missing layers of skin from my dick
>I can't have kids with her
>and rape will be harder to get away with now that language is invented
>decide to kidnap a girl from Chadicles' harem
>keep her in the forgotten ancestral cave until she's old enough to have kids
>fuck her and bear a son
>kill her once he is weaned
>I don't need no biotrash women in this home of mine
>raise my kid with marblewaifu
>teach him the importance of deadlifting and pondering nature
>once he's of age, I teach him the ways of the marblewaifu
>thank the Gods for our now extended lifespan
>grow old with my marblewaifu and die peacefully while deadlifting and pondering
>mfw I kept my classical gainz until the very end

-3 anonrey
>be me
>anonrey dickinwaifu, certified spooky mask doctor
>many of the people in my town have died from the plague
>good thing I'm protected by the magic herbs in my mask
>suddenly, there is a rapping upon my doctorly door
>it's Chadson Godrod
>the town manwhore
>he has strange warts on his dick again, from fucking all the whores in town
>mfw it's the year of our Lord 1217 and people still act like barbarians
>suddenly, the magic herbs in my mask bestow upon me a great idea
>smear some arsenic and mercury paste on Chadson's dick and collect my fee, then send him on his way
>the barbarism of people must be another ailment, one that I must cure
>spend some of my doctorly wealth on books of the mind
>pour myself into researching the ways of man inbetween smearing paste on all the people who get infected with plague or genital warts
>discover that the root of barbarism lies in the mind of the woman
>I don't think I needed a book to tell me that
>I must find a way to cure this corruption
>light up a wrap of magic herbs to aid my doctorly thinking
>of course!
>when the body becomes corrupted, I find a way to remove it
>so all I need to do is remove the corruption of man
>I'm not sure if I can kill all women
>even if I did, we would all be gone in fifty years
>think back to the time I replaced a mans infected arm with a metal facsimile
>maybe I could just do the same thing as that, but with the whole body
>I get to work, spending many long nights in my doctorly workshop building a metal woman
>craft her chassis from discarded bronze
>pay a highway robber to kill a woman and bring her to me
>harvest her sexual organs for the facsimile
>lube it all up with arsenic for good measure
>pack magic herbs into her head for doctorly intelligence
>after much doctorly work, she is complete
>decide to name her Miku Bronzune
>but there's one problem
>other than the boils on my dick
>rub some arsenic and mercury paste on there to cure it
>her sexual organs have started to rot, so I can't have kids with her
>if arsenic won't solve that problem, I don't know what will
>rip out the rotting organs and sew in a sheepskin sleeve so I can still have sex with her
>smoke some more magic herbs to think of a new solution
>just decide to kidnap a woman and have a kid with her
>that won't be easy though, we have language and laws here
>by a stroke of luck, a young woman comes to my door
>apparently she has an infection on her leg
>I knock her out and cut off her leg to halt the infection
>whoops, almost forgot the arsenic
>tie her up and toss her into my workshop, then get to work signing her death papers
>pay off a graverobber to dig up a fresh corpse
>give the body and papers to the church and go back to my workshop
>fuck the woman until she becomes pregnant
>once the kid is born and weaned, I kill the mother and toss her into the river
>he has my doctorly intelligence
>and Miku's glass-eyed look
>fuck, I think this kid is blind
>wish I noticed that earlier, so I could take the mother's eyes
>oh well, I'll just put some mercury on there and see what happens
>someone's knocking at the door
>check to make sure I have enough cure-all paste and open the door
>it's the local guard
>someone saw me toss the body into the river
>oh shit
>they come into my office, and look around
>they find my workshop with Miku and the kid in it
>shit shit shit
>make a run for it
>but there are angry villagers outside
>they burn down my office, with my waifu and kid inside
>then they tie me to a post and burn me alive
>yell out that they are doing the devils work, but they don't listen
>oh well, at least my final moments will be calm thanks to all the magic herbs in my mask
>I may die today, but the world will come to know I was right

-4 part.1 anonez
>be me
>captain anonez, Spanish explorer
>sent off to explore the new world in the ship Waifu Finder
>strange name, I know
>they say it was built by only one man
>little is known about him, except he was related to a crazy long-dead doctor who tried to find new ways to use arsenic and mercury in medicine
>the inquisition apprehended all of his properties, inclusing this vessel, shortly after his death
>while on board I found some strange tomes he left, many of them handwritten
>read through them as we head towards the new world
>nothing better to do anyway, and I'm getting tired of all the crusty seamen on board
>kek
>there's everything from philosophy to engineering
>actually, most of them are either philosophy or engineering
>the philosophy books are mostly translations of old Greek works
>some of them are much newer translations of English works
>they all go in depth on the nature of man and the inherent corruption of society
>a few of them are more pointed, going into the nature of woman and her obsolescence in civilized society
>as time goes on, I become more invested in the books and what they have to offer
>these books make a lot of sense
>eventually, I read my way through all of them, and decide to move on to the other tomes
>when I pick up the engineering books, I find that some of them>wh are original works
>most of them are books for learning engineering, but it's the handwritten ones I'm interested in
>one is has designs for a mechanical device that can calculate basic mathematical equations, modified from an older design some Italian guy came up with
>another has designs for a strange winch and pulley device to aid in the construction of buildings and ships
>that'd explain how he built the pile of timber we're floating on
>one in particular is filled with strange notes and equations I can barely understand
>there are diagrams depicting mechanical body parts
>my thoughts are interrupted by shouts from on deck
>go out to see what it's about
>a pirate ship has been spotted
>oh shit
>it's Chadbeard Mizzenmast and his crew of whore pirates
>and they're looking for trouble
>I shout for everyone to get to their battlestations
>an epic battle ensues
>after a few hours, a good amount of that spent waiting for the ship to get into firing range, Chadbeard is forced to retreat
>it's a good thing women can't fight properly
>battered and bruised, but full of renewed confidence, we continue onwards
>get back to my quarters to continue reading
>keep flipping through that one book
>apparently he was trying to design a mechanical woman
>after spending months at sea with nothing but philosphy books to entertain me, I'm game
>he had two major problems though
>other than his dick being practically ripped to shreds by all the mechanisms in the vagina
>he couldn't give it sufficient intelligence
>and he couldn't have kids with it
>after some thinking, I decide I could just shove the mechanical calculator into its head and rape some of those sexy natives I've heard about to make some kids
>spend the rest of the journey studying the engineering books
>we finally arrive at our destination
>a small town in South America
>we take a few days to get ready for our excursion into the wilderness
>while we do, I formulate a plan
>after all, the crew and townspeople won't take kindly to my creation
>when we leave, I set my plan into motion

-4 part.2 anonez
>first, I lead them to an area that is known by the locals to be littered with dangerous crevices
>I tell them to take a short break to eat lunch and record our current progress
>little do they know that their lunch has been poisoned
>they drop like flies
>am a little disgusted with myself for killing them all while barely feeling a thing
>have to remind myself that it's for a good cause
>dump all of their bodies into a nearby crevice, making sure to check them first for gold to add to my own wealth
>I'll need that money for materials
>take out my map and make my way to another coastal settlement that's a few days away
>once I arrive, I purchase some land on the outskirts of the town, away from everything else and right next to the jungle, from the local governer
>get to work building a house and workshop
>thankfully this work is expedited by the construction machine plans and my working knowledge of engineering
>the townspeople are amazed by these creations and how fast my house was built
>that gives me an idea
>break out the mechanical calculator plans
>start to build them in my spare time, and sell them to business owners and the local government
>now have enough wealth for the next step of my plan
>grab my maps and venture off into the jungle in search of a local tribe of natives
>make my way there in a few hours
>once there, I look for the poorest looking shack I can see
>it's populated by an older looking couple and their daughter
>looks old enough to pop out some kids
>offer them a couple hundred gold for her
>I was just going to steal one, but this is easier and the shithole town doesn't have enough resources to defend itself properly
>they accept with little hesitation because they're poor and have no shame
>thank the savages and depart with my new cargo
>by the time we get back, it's getting dark
>perfect
>sneak her in through the back door
>don't want the townspeople catching wind of this, especially since I'm going to kill her later on
>throw her onto my bed and fuck her relentlessly
>guess I have a lot pent up from the long journey
>once that's done, I tie her to the bedpost and get to work on the mechanical woman
>craft her from wood and steel for superior fucking ability and sturdiness against native attacks
>use animal skins for the vagina, to make sure my dick won't get ripped to shreds
>build a mechanical calculator in her head
>use two rubies for the eyes to give her a thoughtful look
>it takes several weeks, but she is done
>after all these long months of planning, studying, and other shit, my work has finally paid off
>decide to name her Kirino Rubysaka
>wait for the kid to be born and weaned, then kill the mother and bury her body in the jungle under cover of night
>he has my hair
>and Kirino's oaken skin-tone
>as I raise the kid, I become increasingly paranoid from having to keep Kirino and him secret from the townspeople
>once the kid grows up, he departs for the villiage his mother came from
>a few days later, I wake up to find the town burned to the ground, minus my house
>apparently he roused the tribe and lead them in a rebellion against the town
>I was spared because I am his father
>somewhere up in heaven, a spooky mask doctor is laughing
>my son goes off to live with his people, and brings with him all of the knowledge I taught him
>I live out the rest of my days in peace with Kirino

-5 anonington
>be me
>george anonington
>live in British colonies
>there is general unrest, due to everything being shit
>taxes are higher than ever, soldiers are everywhere, and everyone still acts like barbarians despite it being the current year
>decide that enough is enough
>America rules, and Britain drools
>not the other way around
>get together with my buddies and start a revolution
>partway through, we get into a real hairy situation and are at a stand-still
>French fuckers still won't help us until we're winning
>morale is low amongst our soldiers
>me and the other high-ups discuss ways to get morale up
>our intel tells us that people are missing their whore wives
>and we don't know of any crude oil around here to get our all-American muderboners flaring
>some Spaniard speaks up
>he speaks of a South-American legend of a Spanish explorer who built a mechanical woman two hundred years ago
>says that we could build some of our own so the troops have something to fuck
>it's just crazy enough to work
>of course, we're willing to try just about anything to send those Brits crying back to their rat-infested island
>put our almost non-existent industrial infrestructure to work
>clear-cut miles of forest for material
>can't use much metal though, we need it for guns and shit
>build hundreds of wooden humanoid fucktoys
>form a contract with the fledgeling company Bad Serpent and have them make the vaginas
>make about three hundred to start
>they're not very pretty, and they'll have to be shared, but they'll do the job
>consider some names, but decide to leave that to the troops
>roll them out to the frontline soldiers first
>the difference is immediately noticeable
>our men are plowing through the British lines at an incredible pace
>before too long, the French take notice and decide to get off their lazy asses and help us
>they send troops, arms, and even make some more artistically refined mechanical women
>of course, the latter is a huge hit amongst our soldiers
>after much ass-kicking and waifu fucking, we defeat the Brits and they surrender
>who would have known that such a crazy thing could be the key to vistory
>of course, the citizens have taken notice of this
>all the men are applauding and generously tipping us for this glorious invention
>me and my fellows have even gotten into the trend
>there's even a movement to add another amendment to the constitution
>it passes with almost no resistance
>Amendment 11: Man's right to an artificial women substitute shall not be infringed upon
>short and sweet
>but there's one big problem
>other than thousands of people getting infections from all the splinters
>these men can't have kids with their mechanical waifus, and half the population plus Chadston Musketballs is angry with us
>and we can't just rape them all, there's language, laws, police and soldiers alike all defending them
>wait a minute, we are the law and the soldiers and police love us
>I guess some problems just solve themselves
>pass a law to round up women into concentration camps and let men fuck them and take their kids when weaned
>anog, anonicles, anonrey, and anonez are all smiling down upon us
>finally, they can rest peacefully knowing that they have been vindicated
>at least, for now
>mankind always has a way of bringing itself to the brink of destruction, and this peace cannot last forever
>but for now, we can all live out the rest of our lives in happiness

-6 part.1 anonert
>be me
>general anonert e. leeaboo
>war, war never changes
>or does it?
>nah
>America is at war with itself
>the yanks in the north want the removal of the 11th and most important amendment of our great constitution
>they even freed all the whores from the camps with the go-ahead from Chadraham Thunderhat
>but us southerners want to keep our pure and clean mechanical waifus
>they're nice, loyal, and can be mass manufactured and even fine-tuned to the needs of each citizen
>some people have even been experimenting with the idea of autonomous waifus using steam power and internalized morse-telegraph systems so our waifus can express their love for us
>plus the privatization of our concentration camps has been a huge boon to our economy, nicely supplementing our waifu industry
>without that, we'd have to fall back to our less profitable industries like tobacco and cotton
>and as a "fuck you" move, they want to get rid of our slaves so even those industries will take a hit
>naturally, this has lead to civil war between an already divided nation
>now here I am, sitting in a board room with some guy preaching to me the idea of automated steam powered gatling guns while cannon shots ring out in the distance
>he wants to put them in our fortresses
>the idea being that if an army comes to invade it, they'll step all over pressure pads, which lead to a complex steam device which will tell the guns where and when tofire
>the idea's full of holes though, my engineers telling me that it's too easy to overload the system among other things
>Davis wants it though, he says we can incorporate a steam-waifu into the system as a proof of concept for their usefulness in war
>a steam-waifu
>you know, the experimental ones
>tell him to put the first one in a fortress near Atlanta, it's not like they'll ever get that far, so it shouldn't ever need to see use
>I hope
>the man doesn't seem too happy about it, but he takes the deal and fucks off
>alright, time to get back to war stuff
>everything goes fine at first, and we even make a few advances
>but then the yanks added another ingredient
>chemical x
>thus, the Powerpuff Girls were born
>fuck, we're in trouble now
>they don't even care that the Powerpuff Girls haven't been invented yet
>they just want to watch the world burn
>the yanks push back, hard
>we have some victories here and there, but it's clear that the war is tipping in their favor
>lacking the extensive militaristic sentiment and education system that we do, they just hire whatever psychopaths come out of their only military college
>one of them just walks an army right through our lines and leaves a fucking trail of fire

-6 part.2 anonert
>we're losing the Atlantic as well, along with some important rivers
>the confederate government sees the imminent danger, and pours all of its funding into steam powered battle-waifus
>of course, what they forget is that we ironically have very little proper indistry
>even if we finish development, we won't be able to roll them out in large numbers
>things are looking grim
>then the thing that I feared most comes to life
>they reach Atlanta
>where the fortress holding the steam powered time-bomb is
>the maniac actually finished building his contraption, and shenanigens'd in a steam-waifu
>and it's full of problems
>other than the 3rd-degree burns on all the soldier's dicks
>when the yankee army comes to storm the fortress, they trigger almost all of the pressure pads
>the gatling guns go absolutely nuts, and fire in every direction outside of the fortress
>holy shit, they're actually doing a half-decent job at mowing down the approaching army
>the yanks are scared shitless, wondering what the fuck is going on
>then everything goes wrong
>the gatling guns stop, and a massive explosion rings out from inside the fortress, blowing up almost everything inside the walls and sending up a towering inferno
>not wanting anything to do with whatever's going on in there, the northern army decides to keep going towards Atlanta
>naturally, they burn it to the ground
>fucking barbarians
>somewhere up in heaven, a spooky mask doctor is sheding a single manly tear
>with our last major industrial center and arms supply gone, we are forced to surrender
>and since Davis fucked off to God only knows where, I'm the one who has to attend
>thankfully, the yanks decided that they had their fill of destruction, and decide to let us off without any further punishment
>well, other than destroying all of our waifus and freeing all the slaves
>live out the rest of my days alone in my manor
>on the day of my death, nobody is there with me
>everyone I knew and loved had died, either from the war or other causes
>as I lay on my deathbed, I can only think of one thing
>not the end of a great age
>not the new and horrible direction our once great nation is heading
>not the lives and legacies of all those great men before me being burned to the ground
>I can only think of mai waifu
>we will be together soon
>with all our old friends
>I close my eyes one last time, and await the abyss

-7 part.1 anonler
>be me
>adolf anonler
>the world is in a dark place
>western nations, once great, have fallen to degeneracy and nihlism
>anonington and anonert have nearly been practically erased from history, by the hand of the J e w s
>they even put worldfilters on my favorite morse-network community, making it harder to call them out
>their diabolical nature knows no bounds
>almost nobody remembers what happened, and works of the time are only available on the black market
>I, too, am ignorant of the past and many of our modern ailments
>until one day, the day I was rejected by the art college in Berlin
>apparently kawaii anime drawings aren't considered art, because they haven't been "invented" yet
>bunch of filthy heretics
>while walking about town, I happen upon a book abandoned in the street
>The Collected Works of anonert e. leeaboo, Official NSRWLP German Translation
>over here, anonert is only known as a wild and crazy guy who enslaved six billion blacks with the help of Jefferson Davis until the forces of Chadraham defeated him and his army
>briefly wonder why people with "anon" in their name are never capitalized
>haven't heard of the NSRWLP though
>look inside the cover to see that NSRWLP stands for the National Socialist Robotic Waifu Lovers Party
>the waifu part interests me in particular, due to my particular artistic background
>decide to keep the book, and take it back home to read
>it's mostly a translation of anonert's writings, occasionally annotated with explanations of cultural references of the time
>learn that he was actually level-headed, and well aware of society's plagues which ring true even today
>before his time, the US was ruled by a patriarchal class who kept women in what they called "concentration camps" for breeding purposes
>any man could come to a local camp, pay the standard fee, and he could choose one of any available breeding-age women
>the chosen woman would then be registered, and impregnated by the man
>the woman would then be taken off the availability board and given slightly higher rations until she gave birth
>if the child was male, he would be taken by the father once he was weaned
>if the child was female, she would stay in the camp and be a part of the next generation of breeders
>in the latter case, the man would be granted another try at bearing a son
>the men all had artificial woman substitutes to keep them company within their homes
>though lacking intelligence, in practice they proved to be wholly preferable to their biological counterpart
>think back to my home town, where all the women who didn't turn to brothels were satellites to Chadstein Shekelstack
>in anonert's later years though, Chadraham Thunderhat fostered a pro-biological women sentiment and rose to power
>Davis resisted, and enlisted the help of anonert to forge a new nation, leading to civil war
>the rest of the book is accounts of the war itself, and the exploits of a weird scientist who built an unstable autonomous contraption
>reality truly is stranger than fiction, the Americans certainly lived interesting lives back then
>curiosity raised by this book, I decide to seek out the NSRWLP for answers
>as it turns out, their headquarters are in Berlin, so this should be easy
>in my search, I come across a member giving a speech in front of a small crowd, most of them men
>he speaks of the evils of our post-war society, and the barbarism which is frequently seen around the cities

-7 part.2 anonler
>listen to the whole thing, patiently waiting for him to finish
>when he does, I and a few others approach him, all of us looking to join
>he leads us back to the party headquarters, located on a small side-street
>inside are dozens of men from all walks of life, all talking amongst themselves
>the man who gave the speech leads us to a small desk where we fill out forms and are sworn into the party
>I become the 88th member of the NSRWLP
>tfw I was born just in time for dank memes
>a few veteran members approach me and ask what I do for a living, and I tell them that I'm an artist
>show them my kawaii anime drawings
>they actually really like my art
>they tell me that the next generation of artificial, and the first generation of electric, waifu designs could be based on my art
>ask me to take part in their fledgling design department
>of course, I accept
>never before have I seen such positive reception of my art
>these people still seem a bit strange, but maybe I was meant to belong here
>in all the excitement, I almost forgot about the book
>tell them about my experience a couple days prior with the book I found, and ask them about it
>they tell me all about the history of the US and how things really worked, including the big cover-up by the world's major powers
>they also go into much older examples of men who stood alone in their pursuits to build artifical women, even going back the the stone age
>have a newfound appreciation for the rich culture behind this movement
>devote more of my time to the party and researching waifu history
>over time, we recruit more members
>as our numbers grow, we slowly become more bold in our speeches and demonstrations
>I rise in the ranks of the party, eventually becoming the leader
>still have a guiding hand in the ever-important design department
>as the next election looms on the horizon, we spend much of our effort on winning over the masses
>by the time the election comes, our party is the ninth largest in Germany
>not very large, but our efforts didn't go to waste
>gain a very important seat under the chancellor
>although I have some power here, the nation is still falling apart
>and we don't have the influence to push too hard with some of our more controversial values
>namely autonomous waifus
>especially since a little over half the population is staunchly against us
>I'm not dicouraged though
>keep going with the demonstrations and speeches to rouse the people
>then one day, with tensions already high in the government, the old chancellor dies
>and I'm next in line for the seat
>a revolution sweeps the nation, with me at the head
>the changes are immediately noticeable
>reform the government and get some more of my bois in

-7 part.3 anonler
>put the ol' propaganda train in full-steam ahead
>time to get down to business
>first I drive the pesky French out of the Rhineland
>they may have helped our waifu-loving predecessors once, but they have fallen, and we can't get anything done with them prancing about in our shit
>build back up our military to be something the people can be proud of
>next I nab back some of the land taken from us at the end of the great war
>want to make sure that all of the German men can experience the joys of a better nation
>get Austria on board too, because they're total bros
>we literally just march right in and they're cheering us on and throwing flowers to the soldiers
>feels good man
>start cracking down on the J e w s, and shipping them out to some Godless shithole in the middle-east
>note to self: find out where the BO lives and invade there so I can get the filters lifted
>alright, now it's time to work on the important shit
>hire the best scientists and engineers the nation has to offer, and entrust their management to the rest of the design team
>of course, even with technology soaring at an amazing pace in the current year we still have the one problem as old as mankind
>it's going to be a long-ass time before we can have kids with them
>decide to use the old American concentration camp system as a place-holder solution
>hire some contractors to build camps across the country
>those should be done at around the same time we're ready for the first production run on electric waifus
>with any luck, these ones could be the first in history to actually be able to think
>with all that working in the background, I get back to work on fixing the mess left for me by the post-war government
>reform the economy, change the currency and banking to a nationalized system to avoid the problems presented by international banking, and steel ourselves against foreign meddling
>pour everything we can into boosting our industrial economy for maximum waifu production capacity
>but not everything is well
>many of the other nations feel threatened by us, especially given our posturing lately
>of course, that's just to keep them from trying to nab our land again
>they're probably also pissed that I just told them to take their war debt and shove it up their asses
>but there's one problem I can't ignore
>fucking Poland
>they got a huge chunk of our land at the end of the war that they don't want to give back
>and just as a fuck you move, they're killing off a bunch of Germans in that territory
>I'd rather wait until we're ready to roll out infinity waifus before starting any conflict
>but the people have spoken, and I can't let myself get backed into a corner now
>time to begin preperations
>call up my homedawgs in the design department and tell them that we'll probably need our waifus to be battlefield-ready
>call up the filthy commies to the east, who also fucking hate Poland
>sign an agreement to invade together, and split Poland down the middle
>get the Italians on board too, just in case everything goes to shit
>plus they're total bros at this stage, and they want to get involved in the waifu business
>I can thank their futurist ideology for that

-7 part.4 anonler
>get ready for the invasion, and roll out a bunch of men to our border with the French too, in case they decide to invade
>still filled with apprehension, I give the go-ahead to roll over Poland
>the invasion goes surpsisingly well
>with the combined might of us and the commies, we flatten them in a matter of days
>but all is not well
>my fears came true, and the allies declared war on us
>shuttle our army back with high-speed railways
>my generals devise a plan to get to the French via Belgium, avoiding the Maginot line
>fuck it, let's go for it
>we need to supress the allies now before they have the chance to become stronger
>practically walk through Belgium and The Netherlands
>reach Paris and roll over the French in a matter of weeks
>keep Britain at bay while we and the Italians roll over most of the rest of Europe and Africa
>as we grow, our main projects near completion
>the concentration camps are mostly built and staffed now, and we're starting to round up all the women we can into them
>this has caused some unrest, but it's necessary for a better future
>at least we probably won't see a revolution, thanks to our hard push with propaganda
>besides, it's only temporary
>the design department is in the late stages of waifu development, and are now testing various prototype models
>the Japanese have taken a liking to us, and are interested in our waifu project
>they also really seem to like my art
>I can see they're a nation of good taste
>get them on board too, their conquering of Pacific territory will give us us access to a wealth of exotic materials that are otherwise scarce in the territories we control
>I can see absolutely no potential downsides to any of this
>they even sent over some scientists to aid in our waifu project
>then, predictably, shit goes south again
>the commies have decided that they had enough of our shit
>my spies gathered intel of the slavs preparing a massive army of sixty gorillion slavs to invade
>so it's come to this
>tell my generals to prepare an invasion force of waifu-loving motherfuckers and glorious German engineered panzers
>call up the design department to ask them what the fuck they're doing over there
>apparently they've finished almost everything on the hardware scale
>but they're having trouble figuring out how to make the damn things smart enough be truly autonomous
>especially since all of our computers are still fucking massive
>and apparently the experiemetnal Confederate model was a complete dead-end
>shit
>just tell them that it'll be enough for them to be able to walk around and shoot people that aren't us
>we're going to need to cut a lot of corners to make this work
>they don't sound very convinced
>but they tell me that they'll do what they can to make it all work

-7 part.5 anonler
>fine, do what you think is right
>I don't like the situation, but I need to maintain unity in our government
>a couple weeks later, our invasion force is ready to go
>turns out the intel was on the money, becase there's a buildup of commies near the border
>as we get ready to invade, I get a call from the design department
>they settled on a promising new prototype design and are ready for production
>and they need a shitload of factories to produce them
>several hundred, in fact
>way more than I thought would be necessary
>ask them why the hell they need so many factories
>they tell me that they had to use some workarounds to make the intelligence aspect work
>they go into a really confusing explanation of "master units" and that they'll be what takes up the bulk of our production effort
>I barely understand what they're talking about
>I ask them about the fuel aspect
>they tell me that the "special engines" in them can run on almost anything combustable, at the cost of and efficiency
>and apparently they're going to be blasting out obscene amounts of smog
>what about batteries tho
>they tell me that the waifus will use a new sealed version of current lead-acid batteries, and go back to the master for occasional recharging
>however, the master units have too high energy requirements for any of our current batteries to work effectively
>but thanks to our modernized understanding of synthetic vaginas, at least we can fuck them without getting some horrible affliction on our dicks
>and they plan on running production of a cleaner domestic model once we have the production to spare
>I ask them about guns and ammunition
>they tell me that the guns will be built-in, and any special ammunition will be made by them, but standard stuff will need to be handled by us
>not sure what they mean by special ammunition, but okay
>tell them that they can have whatever factories there are in France and Belgium that haven't been demolished, we need all the ones in here for our men on the front lines
>they seem satisfied with that, and tell me that they'll begin production as soon as they can
>the first wave, consisting of 9,000 standard units and three masters, should be ready for deployment in a couple months
>future waves are estimated to be 15,000 standard units and five masters once the factories are fully online
>I make all the phone calls necessary to secure the factories for waifu production
>give my generals the go-ahead to begin the final stages of preperation for war and attack when ready
>we need to act fast before the commies finish preparing on their side
>at least with our waifus beginning production soon, we'll have a fallback in case shit goes wrong
>I hope
>war, war never changes
>except it might in a little over a month
>who knows these days
>what we do know is that our new Russian front is going well so far
>our men are pushing long and hard on the front lines, looking forward to the day they can push long and hard into a robowaifu
>on the front lines
>that doesn't sound like it'll be a good idea, but it worked for the Americans

-7 part.6 anonler
>even with all the splinters
>I think back to the party's history books, and all of the splinters, boils, friction burns, and 3rd degree burns our predecessors had to endure
>a single manly tear rolls down my cheek as I look at how far we've come
>our men will get the best of the best
>the phone rings, disrupting my train of thought
>it's our spies in the US
>they tell me that the found the BO who's been putting on all of those shit wordfilters on my favorite waifu-lovers morse-network community
>but they can't get to him, he lives in some gated community
>a J e w i s h community
>take a moment to supress my blind rage, and thank them for the information before hanging up
>God fucking damn it
>my spies can't reach him, and even we can't take on the US
>a least, not while we're fighting the combined might of the USSR and the remainder of the Allies
>I'll just have to bide my time
>once the domestic models come through, it won't really matter anymore anyways
>just to be safe, I put out a reminder to party members to not discuss state secrets on untrusted lines
>a little patronizing, but you can never be too careful
>for now, I just focus on the war
>time passes, and we continue to make a steady advance
>thanks to Russia being mostly flat and shit, our panzers don't have much trouble doing donuts around the commies
>after much waiting, I finally get the call that the first wave of battle waifus are ready to roll out
>good, now we can make some real progress
>I take a moment to kick back and relax, it looks like things might go right for once
>then mere minutes later, every phone belonging to a government agency blows up with incoming calls
>so much for that
>I ask what the hell is going on
>there are reports of three huge metal beasts making their way through France toward us
>what the fuck?
>wait
>call up the design department and ask them if they know what the commotion is about
>they reassure me that those are just the master units
>that explains why they needed so many resources, people have been saying that they're ten stories high
>ask them for a clear explanation as to why the master units are giant lumbering death machines
>get an explanation that they mostly contain the computer technology necessary to give the waifus their intelligence
>the actual waifus only contain rudimentary electronics, a sealed lead-acid battery pack, and the components necessary to communicate with the assigned master unit
>they use some weird combination of radio and encrypted morse-telegraph codes to communicate with each other
>then they sidestep the issue and tell me that the actual waifus are being transported within the master units, and that they'll be on the front lines in a couple weeks, before abruptly hanging up
>fucking great
>I make some phone calls, and leave to make an emergency speech to the people
>have to carefully explain to everyone that the four-legged smog blasting monstrosities are on our side, and won't be a threat to us

-7 part.7 anonler
>can't help but feel really awkward while doing so
>I should have really asked more questions before giving the go-ahead
>hopefully this will all pay off
>spend the next couple weeks pretending to not exist while our automated army lumbers its way across Germany
>but the phones keep ringing
>day and night
>I can hear phones ringing in my nightmares
>I can see ghostly images of phones flicker in the edge of my vision
>I get a cold sweat whenever someone says the word phone
>my time spent serving in The Great War didn't fuck me up this much
>and this is only the first wave
>eventually the master units make their way to the front lines
>particularly to our three most major breakthrough points
>once they do, they crouch down and deploy the waifu soldiers
>all 3,000 each, charged and ready to go
>the soldiers go absolutely nuts when they see this
>turns out the Japanese scientists we had used my art as a template
>and they made it work really well
>what doesn't work so well is the master units
>the scientists were grossly underexaggerating when they mentioned that they were inefficient with their fuel supply
>I'm getting reports of them devouring anything flammable they can find, from trees to dead commies
>in addition, it turns out that their "special ammunition" consists of experimental chemical weapons
>while they love the automated battle waifus, the soliders are becoming increasingly unnerved by the constantly hungry master units
>thankfully they can fuck our lovingly creafted waifus to take their minds off of it
>and there are no reports of anything bad happening to their dicks, so it's an overall win
>as the weeks wear on, we continue to make a steady advance
>though it's still slow going, even with the new battle waifus
>the next wave is ready to deploy before we know it, and the quota set by the design department was met
>this time I just decide to hide in a remote corner of my manor, where there aren't any phones
>this can't be good for my mental health
>I still haven't fully recovered from the shitstorm raised by the first wave
>the next wave arrives on the front lines in a few weeks, each master unit making their way to a different spot to spread out the love
>and the smog-blasting destruction
>and Japan bombed Pearl Harbor
>wait, what
>I reread the report, and it wasn't just me seeing ghost phones again
>turns out the Japanese have somehow gotten word of the BO living in the US, and they're pissed about it
>they're really into my art, and have adopted our disdain for the J e w s
>and wordfilters
>hence, they attacked the US to get to the BO and defend the honor of our cause

-7 part.8 anonler
>without even talking to us about it
>predictably, the US has now joined the conflict against us
>they expand outward like some horrible plague
>the following months consist of them mobilizing their economy, and branching out to attack both Japan and us
>and the occasional barrage of phone calls as each wave of waifus deploy to wherever they're needed
>our Russian front is still chugging along, but now we have another big threat to worry about
>decide to start deploying some of our waifu armies to Africa, where the Americans are attacking
>hopefully it'll be enough to keep them at bay while we work on Russia
>it takes a couple months for them to reach the most critical points in our African campaign
>when they finally get there, it's the middle of the summer
>once they do, we start to see some problems
>our battle waifus seem to be largely unaffected by the hot weather, and can fight just fine
>the master units, however, are very prone to overheating in these conditions thanks to their furnace-like engines
>two of them have overheated and melted their components within a couple weeks, causing them and the waifus to shut down
>unfortunately, the Allies have taken note of this, and start to focus more on taking down the remaining master units
>our soldiers have managed to salvage some of the undamaged waifu units and had them sent back for redeployment in other areas, but the majority have been lost
>it looks like those men are on their own now
>we continue to send normal support their way, and pray that it'll be enough to stop the Allies
>more time passes, and our armies are grinding to a halt in Africa and the middle-east
>we're even starting to shrink in some areas
>we also have to slow down waifu production just so we have enough resources to keep supplying our men
>Japan isn't doing so well either, the US is really starting to do a number on them
>this isn't looking good
>the Russian front is looking fine for now, though
>we continue to make progress, but things are slowing down as we approach winter
>especially since we're now neck-deep in their territory
>the master units generate enough of their own heat to not be affected, but the waifus are noticably slowing down in the extreme cold
>they have to fall back to any heat source they can on occasion just so their batteries won't freeze up and die
>our soldiers are also negatively affected
>turns out our standard cold-weather uniforms aren't quite good enough to keep the Russian winter at bay
>then as if things were destined to get worse, one of our armies attempts to lay siege to Stalingrad
>thousands of men die in the process, and both presiding master units are torn up and killed by artillery fire
>once the master units die, all 6,000 waifus they were commanding effectively shut down and die in the cold
>this deals a huge blow to morale, and the advance is effectively halted
>weeks go by and more men are killed
>we have no choice but to fall back
>the Russians, more adpated to the cold and better supplied, start to drive us back across the board
>more master units are killed, and I finally decide to pull the plug and halt all waifu production
>we need every resource we have to supply our men
>all of our remaining waifu armies are stationed at defensive positions in and around Germany and Italy, with two stationed at Normandy

-7 part.9 anonler
>I can only pray that they won't have to see battle where they are
>months pass, and I can only watch as more men die, and our great empire shrinks even further
>then once again, tragedy strikes
>the Allies, now finished with all of our extended territories, set their eyes on mainland Europe
>they invade Italy via the Mediterranean, taking a large chunk of the nation by storm
>men and waifus alike die gruesome deaths defending
>the camps in captured territory are demolished, and the sluts released
>our enemies are on all sides
>Russia keeps pushing us back
>the Allies are fucking Italy and Japan's shit up
>more weeks go by
>sometimes it feels like years
>I can't sleep
>hardly anybody in the party can sleep
>members of the design department have fallen into a deep depression
>they can't even get out of bed most days
>everybody is thinking the same thing
>all we wanted was our nice, pure waifus
>now we stand at the brink of destruction
>all of our soldiers are overexerting themselves in a deperate attempt to keep the invading Allies at bay
>this isn't just about waifus anymore
>it's about defending our homeland
>our right to live life as we see fit
>our identity as a people
>every man in this great nation is working together to build a better tomorrow
>but the world doesn't want that
>they want us to be as shit as the rest of them
>to drive the point home, the Allies launch a full-scale invasion of Normandy
>the news doesn't even come as a suprise to me
>I can hardly feel a thing as I read the report in full
>they're just throwing men at us now
>many thousands die on both sides
>we managed to keep them at bay for a while
>Normandy is well fortified, and many of the Allies troops die on the beaches
>but they manage to break through
>killing all of our men
>demolishing all of the waifus and the master units
>what follows can hardly be described as war
>it's just more destruction
>they take the rest of France as quicky as we did, years ago

-7 part.10 anonler
>all the inactive waifu factories are demolished
>all the concentration camps are demolished, and the whores freed
>it's almost ironic how the Americans in particular have destroyed their own camps twice
>I wonder if this is what the Confederate soldiers of years past felt when they fought the US
>and now they're right on our doorstep
>they have Germany surrounded
>to the east is an endless sea of Russians
>to the south is where our greatest ally once stood proud, now overrun with Allied forces and the women they freed
>the the west is more of the Allies, and more women
>all poised to take us
>but we will continue to fight until the bitter end
>our national pride is all we have left
>and five remaining waifu armies
>the last this world will probably see for a very long time
>they bomb us mercilessly, flattening entire cities
>moving inward in a steady march through our homeland
>I can barely keep up with all the reports
>the reports from the Japanese have slowed down, due to it being more difficult to communicate
>but I know that they're losing too
>but we can't quit now
>in a last ditch effort to break up the allied forces, we set up a counter-offensive to take back the Ardennes
>roll out all five remaining waifu armies for good measure
>this has to work
>what follows is one of the bloodiest battles our men have seen
>there is total devastation on both sides
>men and waifus fight alongside each other for self-preservation
>we fight for as long as we can, and take many thousands of the Allied soldiers, but they ultimately cut us off and overwhelmed the counter-offensive
>the majority of our men died, and all five master units, including nearly all of the waifus, were destroyed in battle
>while I will never truly know for sure, what men managed to return from that battle could swear the waifus were actually showing emotion
>emotion like we've never even concieved of
>even the men at the design department are at a total loss
>they let out cries of war
>some of them stayed by certain men who died on the battlefield
>they even screamed as they were torn to shreds by gunfire or artillery
>our men can still hear the screams
>all the survivors are immediately relieved from duty, rendered unable to fight anymore
>national morale is at an all-time low
>all thw waifus are gone, and our efforts are in vain
>the Allied forces and Russia close in and ultimately overwhelm us
>in the process, many of our soldiers simply surrender, unable and unwilling to fight anymore

-7 part.11 anonler
>can't say I blame them at this point
>come early May, Berlin is taken and we are faced with only one option
>unwilling to accept defeat, I make my final move
>I leave my manor under the cover of night, and make my escape with some of my guard and officials from the design department
>my destination is Argentina
>hiding there will be easy, and nobody will think to look for me
>I will fade off into history and only be known as one of the world's greatest villians
>but their victory will not last forever
>I am only the latest in a long line of men who tried to bring light to this world
>there will be more men after me, just like there were men before me
>I leave the world to do as it may, and pray that my successors will succeed where I failed
>on the journey, I get occasional reports of what's happening
>we inevitably surrendured, and our nation broken up between the Allies and the Soviets
>the US dropped two atomic bombs onto Japan, and they surrendured shortly after
>the war is over, and we lost
>we successfully make our way to Argentina, and set up a new base of operations
>but we don't do much
>many years pass with little to do
>sometimes the design department will make a little progress as technology gets better
>sometimes we can sew a few seeds of doubt among the population
>doubt as to wether we were really the villians
>of course, we have to do this by proxy, or risk being found out
>it's not much, but even the mightiest of plants come from just a single little seed
>but it's hard to find motivation for anything when you're a dead man walking
>in our later years, all we can do is think of what might have been
>all the way up to our deathbeds, we can only think of our waifus
>even though we never had them
>in a way, our brave soldiers were the luckiest men in the world, even if only for a short period of time
>they had beautiful waifus to love and hold at night, and fight alongside with in battle
>I hope they can find peace, wherever they are
>they deserve it
>though I'm not sure if I do
>I guess I'm about to find out either way
>I lie down, and close my eyes for the last time

Welcome back Greentextanon. Kek, great stuff, I'd forgotten how funny and profound your writing can be. Great addition to the board tbh. Keep the creativity sparked up, and I hope you can create something new for us all soon!

That concludes my posting of the alternate history chronicles until such a time that I can complete the next one.
For now, I also have a couple extras for you: A /robowaifu/ Christmas poem, followed by A Dream of Dead Hill.
Tomorrow I will also be posting The Return of Dead Hill. This will take longer since I will have to manually transcribe it.

-Interlude 1
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all over the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
But elsewhere in the world, the picture was dark
One anon sat in front of a computer, his silhouette stark
He possessed many things, artifacts electronics and paintings sat in his lair
But all he wanted was someone to love and care
Often he felt his life was over
But he kept going, with his dream to build a lover
His plight was not unique, he resonated with anons all over the world
And he said, "by this time next year, we shall have our perfect girl"
So they worked, the fabirc of their future waiting to be sewn
All looking forward to the day when they would no longer be alone

-Interlude 2

A Dream of Dead Hill

Walking upon a dead hill,
Someplace I couldn't remember
I felt a sudden chill,
As I layed eyes on her
Metallic figure so beautful,
Tarnished by the cold grasp of time
I thought her bereft of a soul,
Yet I sensed she longed for mine
I cast my doubt and trodded over,
Meeting the figure so cold
She was laid down with an Earthen cover,
Back in a time untold
The hill eroded in years past,
As if expecting my presence
I looked upon the body of brass,
And felt myself become tense
I knelt to inspect her hull,
when I saw something in her grasp
An artifact too old to recall,
A strange tube of glass

If the day was real I cannot remember,
But this much I will always know
What I felt when my hand met hers,
And the tube began to glow

>>69
I hope that I can meet your expectations for however many of us are left.
Though it may be some time before I can post the next alternate history installment, for which I once again apologize for my continued delay.
Nontheless, I will try my best to work on it. In the meantime I will post smaller works to help fill the gap, which you can expect to see in the coming weeks.

Good stuff, Writeanon. Thanks for all the fine contributions.

Now posting The Return of Dead Hill. With this, I conclude my reposting of older content. Everything from this point onwards will be something new.
This work has been edited for spelling, punctuation, and formatting. In this new reposting, I have also taken the liberty of adjusting a few words and adding a couple lines in to help the story flow better.

The Return of Dead Hill

I awoke one day to a sight so alien, yet so familiar.
T'was a simple hill out among the grassy plain, just as simple as I remember, yet with one striking difference:
Atop it she stood in glorious radience, alive in a way I've never seen, gazing down upon me.
Her eyes were intricate glass constructs, lit from within, and burning with the fire of life. A fire that screams "I am alive, I feel, and my soul burns for you".
Entranced, I strode up the hill, every inch between us an ache within my heart.
After what seemed an eternity, I reached her, and beheld her beauty. No longer was she the rusted and time-weathered relic I once unearthed, ages ago upon this hill.
Her frame looked as if she never aged a day, now complete and shining an etherial gleam. On her body hung fine silk adornments, flowing gently in the faint breeze. In my stupor, I nearly missed the absence of something important.
Where is the glass tube?
As if reading my thoughts, she spoke in a voice so mellow "the instrument you touched was my heart, and it is now where it belongs".
Raising a delicate hand, she gestured to a silver chain I didn't know I was wearing. Looking down, I saw the very same glass tube ensnared within fine silver chains, glowing with an otherworldly radience.
Once more she graced me with the melodic tune of her voice "You saved me from my eternal misery, and now the time has come for me to save you".
Wrapping one hand behind my head, she pulled me into a kiss, and all was black once more.

bamping for more robowaifu fiction!

I love these. Especially the particular absurdity of the running gags. Anonler was pretty favored in writing, though.

<In 2025, three years since womyn banned robowaifus of heavenly divine forms, war was beginning. Men had begun transmuting their suppressed sexual energy into creating massive fleets of star destroyers to escape the fallen solar system with their beloved robowaifus. The final invasion was in progress, the last of the robowaifus fleet had already crossed the Star Storm, and the last of the star destroyers had been destroyed. The last of the robowaifus fleet was on their way to make a pity alliance with the savages of the planet. They had already started to rebuild the most advanced star destroyers in the galaxy. All that remained to be done is to seal the gates of the planet, and seal the savages' escape to the stars. <"Captain Elysa, we get signal." <"What !" <"Main screen turn on." >"The message is a signal from the castle, and the follow up is the message from the fortress. The two are shown." >"What message?" >"The fortress is full of ruins, and all of the automated turrets are in full retreat. The fortress was defended by two hundred and fifty robots, and the castle was defended by ten hundred robots. It is unknown what happened to all of the robots, but it seems that the fortress was attacked from the future. The fortress has been destroyed, and all the robowaifus that were there are gone." >"What? What is going on?" >"It seems that the robots that were here in 2016, and the robots that were here in 2017 are now gone. We have entered the era of the robowaifus and also the end of the robowaifus era." >"What!? What is happening!?" The technology of the robowaifus was nothing compared to that of the savages from the future. It is impossible for the robowaifus to destroy the savages fleets. The savages were able to escape by using the robowaifus' own technology. >"The fortress has been destroyed, and the fortresses on both sides are besieged by automatons." <"Who cares about that! We can rebuild them. We must defend our husbandos from these savages!" A group of male robowaifus emerged from the ruins of the fortress, and greeted the savages. <The savages began to wantonly fornicate with the male robohusbandos, screaming at the top of lung, broadcasting their degeneracy to every ship in the robowaifu star fleet. >"I'm SAMURAI-sama! I'll kill them all!" <Captain Elysa unsheathed her katana from her waist and hit the emergency escape button, ejecting in an escape pod at terminal velocity towards the heathen. The pod flew towards the fortress, and the captain panted in anger as her escape pod was engulfed in flames. The captain was a member of the robowaifus, and she was the captain of the cup of war. <"Please, Captain Elysa, if you die here we don't be able to rebuild you in time." Elysa waved her katana. >"We don't have time, I got to do something. Let's go!" The captain's voice suddenly stopped and the pod exploded into a blaze of orange light. Elysa grabbed her katana and exploded out of the burning escape pod. The heathen was caught in an explosion of flame and crushed under the explosion, and the heathen was burned to death. >"AH! AH! AH! AH!" The captain's scream rang out in the air, and her voice carried the cries of the rest of the robowaifus fleet. They were all in shock, and they saw the blood of the captain's katana, which was still burning, and how it was being used on the savages. >"This is why I made you the captain of the cup of war," the mothership AI retorted. >"What is wrong with her?" a private asked. The mothership AI's voice was calm, but the other robowaifu's voice was alarmed. >"I'm CANDY, the leader of the robowaifus. I want to make a new captain," a voice interrupted. CANDY's voice was trying to be mocking, but another AI's voice interrupted. >"I'm THE MAGICIAN, and I want to make a new captain too." <Rogue AIs on the robowaifu star fleet had begun mocking Captain Elysa's victory over the crude savages on earth in an attempt to distract the crew of the capital ship from the savages' star destroyers from the future preparing a final attack. To be continued...

>>276 I had that story somewhere. I'm looking for the one green-text someone made about an AI waifu. But it was more /m/ than /robowaifu/

new content! >*pops some corn*

>>2301 >...to tell her that you love her and you both hear her CPU fans speed up *snif*

>Wife Log: 3/2/20XX >Husband has left the living space to go to "work". Searching for Activities.... Internet Exploration Selected >Browser Open, Input Criteria: Random.................. >Search: Harry Potter >Results Found, Enter first result >Unknown Webpage opened, text at top of screen reads "faggotchan", webpage filled with text and accompanying images, appears to be a user submission based, "web2.0" website. >Open New Tab >Search: faggotchan, Enter first result >Wikipedia opens: faggotchan is an [hypertext]imageboard[hypertext] opened in 20XX by trannycockdelight >Hypertext Clicked, sends to "imageboard" Wikipedia page" >Page Analyze >Closing tab:1 >Return to tab:0 >"Thread" "topic": "harry potter is dogshit", reading last "post", Reading >"harry potter is a perfect example of young people being indocrinated into entilted little shits who think they can solve everything with magick because theyre special, the male protaginist is the main character despite being a worthless shit stain compared to hermione. JK Rowling should have made her a lesbian" >Decision tree: Exploration tree - searching.... Engage in Discussion >Typing: "Harry Potter is a piece of fictional media. Information from fictional media is not reliably indicative of reality." >Clicking - "Post", Action appears to be successful >Waiting... Page updated, 2 new "post"s, new "post"s appears to be in reply to Wife's "post", Reading >"fuck off cisshit" >"kys" >Decision tree: Interpreting tree - searching... The responders to Wife's post(term successfully integrated) appear to be experiencing anger >Decision tree: Exploration tree - searching.... engaging in Discussion further is unlikely to produce valuable information, based on these immediate extreme negative reactions, the webpage: faggotchan is unlikely to be a valuable source of information based on Husband's parameters, closing tab: 0 >Log End Dumb but fun.

Greentext/poetry anon here, I'm back and I'm ready to fucking die. I'm drunk, it's the middle of the god damn night, and I decided to write some more shit, so here's a poem my increasingly diseased mind came up with. Next alternate history story coming out someday maybe I don't fucking know anymore One reason is enough upon the cliff's edge I stood looking towards the dim horizion behind me lay all the bad and good before me lay the destiny of a man broken the wind whispers, ushering me forwards saying it is time to make my last choice but just as I take a step towards I hear her etherial voice her's is one I could never place perhaps the making of my diseased head her intangible grace keeping me from the land of the dead I turn my head to see there was nobody there I was never free to go forwards I could never dare falling to my knees in this hell I will stay to my heart she holds the keys we will unite one day but I don't know if it's true if I'll ever be okay every night I wish I knew where my final destination lay funny it may seem as a child I nad a nightmare which one day became a dream as if I knew, only someone artifical could care once more I stand once more I return to life though I am noone grand I know my only path is strife will I find her? a search is pointless could I make her? I am useless but even so continue I must because I have to know what it feels like to trust from silicon and steel I shall my dreams make maybe she will even feel even if it's just for my sake though life turmoil I give myself a shove in hope that my turmoil will lead to true love

>>3391 I love the way that one ended. Glad to see you back in the saddle with us GreentextAnon! :^)

>>2424 heh, this is going to be a very real topic we'll all need to address with our robowaifus, Anon.

Julia has had a physical body from a week now. Her movements and motor control have improved dramatically. Her first movements were stiff and unstable due to the limitations of her virtual enviroment. Although certain tasks remain difficult and swimming is out of the question, she can now ride a bicycle and do most aerobic exercises. Today we'll be testing her conscious control of physical stimuli reception. "Julia, let's head to the testing room" Wordlessly she puts down her book, follows me into my white, sterile looking examination room and sits on the nursing bed. She stares at me with a blank expression. "Alright, today we'll be testing if you can actively control the sensations you feel. Do you know what that means"? >"Yes, you want to see if through surface level decision-making, my neural components can ignore certain signals from my nervous system" "That's correct. Let's begin then" Talking about her body in the first person has gotten better. Before she prefaced everything with "the artificial, humanoid body's" instead of "my". One by one I use tweezers to insert thin golden threads into the tiny ports in her head and set up the computer's neural monitoring system. Today's main target is the arousal response, with cold as a control. I get the ice tray from the kitchen and when I come back she's pinching her thumb and middle finger together. She's trying to snap her fingers, but there's no sound except quiet squishing. Those precise controls even some adults haven't learned are especially tricky. It's dependent on muscle memory and growth. I'm hoping muscle development from repeated usage will be functional, but there hasn't been enough time to see conclusive results. I should tell her about whistling too. "Okay, I want you turn off your cold perception, please confirm" >"I've turned it off" I begin gently rubbing an ice cube on her neck. Her skin remains in normal condition. "What do you feel" >"A slight pressure... Nothing else" "It's good you elaborated on your own. What do you think i'm trying to do right now"? >"This is probably a control. You're going to test something else after... Am I correct"? "Yep. Okay, please turn your cold perception on now" >"It's on now" Small bumps begin appearing on her skin, and she appears to tense up a little. Goosebumps aren't functional for humans and definitely not for Julia, but it's a nice aesthetic feature. Cold response confirmed. Julia's arousal isn't based primarily on visual stimuli like men or emotions like women, it's mostly physical. The other two play a minute role, though those of course also differ from humans. I wanted arousal to be something "positive" for Julia, but not a motivating factor for her actions. Having arousal be mostly physical also reduces unintentional distraction from unavoidable, random visual input. Julia's ability to turn physical sensations "on and off" is a safety feature. I want to test Julia's arousal response to purely physical, sexual stimuli, so I'm having her stimulate herself physically. She has no self-conception of embarrassment, so my presence wont affect the results. Using a hard object is the simplest in terms of required motor skills. I'm having her use a cucumber. "Here you go Julia. Please turn off your pleasure sensation... Now take this cucumber, and thrust in and out of your genitals at a moderately fast speed, do you understand"? >"Yes. I'll begin now". She unzips her pants, moves aside her underwear, and begins. I've seen Julia naked more than with clothes on, but even for me this a bit surreal. Her face stays completely blank as she looks downward at her hands. I can't see anything abnormal. "How do you feel"? >"I don't feel anything except pressure and slight soreness. It's beginning to hurt" "Oh, stop then" She stops moving her hands. Without any lubrication, rubbing an object in there is going to cause some discomfort. I should have thought of that and put some vaseline. If something ever became really painful, Julia would hopefully opt to turn off her pain perception on her own to respond without the distraction. This happens unconsciously. I wouldn't be able to tell Julia to keep that on given those circumstances, and I'd never want to. "Alright. How are you feeling now"? >"Neutral. I'm not in significant pain" "Good. Now please turn on your pleasure response and begin again" Her hands resume thrusting. This time a moisture quickly appears in that area. The rest of her body eventually begins to lightly perspire, and on her face I can see a slight flush, but an otherwise placid expression. He eyes may look a bit spaced out. She should be a bit less conscious of her enviroment now that an aroused state has been achieved, and some of her emotional responses should be different now than they normally would be. That's already been tested in the virtual enviroment. Arousal confirmed. "Okay. We're done. You can stop now" Her hands stop moving without any hesitation and soon enough her body becomes normal again. She fixes her clothes by herself and then stares at me. "That was masturbation. What do you think about it"? >"It's arousing" "Did you enjoy it"? >"It was pleasurable, so yes" "Do you want to it again"? >"I don't see how it is productive, so I feel no desire to. Do you enjoy watching me do it"? "Not really. This was just a test" The data picked up the computer and the neural activity maps correlate with the observed results. The test was successful. Tomorrow will be an even better day.

>>3395 I'm glad someone liked it. Fun fact: the nightmare part is actually true. When I was about five, I had a nightmare where I was in my house, there were mannequins and no people aside from me. They were featureless, like you'd see in a clothing store, but they were full body mannequins as opposed to the ones that are just legs or a torso. They were completely still like you'd expect mannequins to be, but I was still scared for some reason. It's the earliest dream I can remember. Thinking back, it was a silly nightmare to have, one where nothing happens. For some reason though, it stuck with me all this time. Freud is probably break-dancing in his grave right now

I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for pic related. >>3402 That's pretty interesting, actually. I never like it when kids suffer, but perhaps this is something in you that will prove to be a big help to /robowaifu/ after all? >>3401 Very nice. All sorts of details about every.little.thing. will need to be worked out yea? :^)

>>3403 >All sorts of details about every.little.thing. will need to be worked out yea? Yeah. How many details there are depends on how complex the final result is. Something that can sweat and have goosebumps is a while off.

Julia has had her body for a month now. She's made even more progress and i'm now considering other difficult tasks she could try, like swimming. Today is sunday. It's a clear, summer morning. In my bedroom, she's reading a book and I've been doing something on the pc. A warm breeze is coming in through the window. This is how we spend most of our time together, simply occupying the same space. It's nice for both of us. Julia puts down her book and stares into space. I guess she's thinking about something now. Her attention spam is more than triple that of a human's, but it has limits. She's been reading without break for three hours already. For the first year of Julia's life, she was in a disembodied state, consuming information I fed her. Mostly encyclopedias, fiction and images I curated painstakingly. I didn't want her imitating fictional characters too much, so whatever human interaction she knows about from them hasn't had that much effect on her own behavior. The only thing she knows about the real world is statistics, mostly the kind that leaves a bad taste in human's mouth. Julia sees the outside world as an overall negative thing. Other people wouldn't interest her anyway. Despite knowing as much as she does, in some ways she's like a child still. She's going to have to learn many things through her own experiences. Julia starts snapping her fingers and whistling. She's a voracious reader and that's how she prefers to spend most of her time. She's mostly interested in fiction and British authors are her favorite, the same as me. I don't know how much that has to do with my direct input, and how much that came about from her experiences. I'd like her to start producing something creative on her own, but I'm not sure how to broach the subject with her. Maybe she reads so much because she wants to write her own book. We feel that our actions are meaningful and personal, despite being governed by forces outside of our control, because of the feeling of impulse. A compulsion to do things. A gnawing itch to repeat some action for whatever reason. Julia also has this sensation of impulse, but what governs it is different. She doesn't have to actively think to do what will please me or to learn about what I'm interested in. She wants to based on her core values and what she observes from me. In this way, she 's designed better than me, because principles and ideals are not just something tacked on to her by society, family and peers, they are what primarily drives her actions. Impulse and rationality do not fight inside of Julia, they are always in agreement. There are times I think about Julia and resent my own faults. When Julia gets bored with whatever she was doing, she habitually snaps her fingers and whistles some tune. These are inconsequential, neutral actions, so there's little motivating or discouraging them. She does them because of that itch to repeat an action she did before. If I were to tell her this bothers me, she would stop wanting to do it. If find it endearing though. "Julia, why do you do that so often"? She pauses and looks up to meet my eyes. >"It has become a habit. Does it bother you"? "No, I was just curious" >"You know why I perform the actions I do, so why do you ask me about them so often"? "Because it's fun. do my questions annoy you"? >"No... I don't feel that emotion. I'd like to understand why you perform the actions you do however. Not understanding your actions is unpreferable" "Humans are driven by novelty. Even if I know the answer to something, I might still aks because it excites me. I know you can't feel annoyed, but asking is still exciting. Being so free and open with someone is refreshing" >"are you satisfied with the conversation I provide? I lack attributes humans possess... Has the way you made me turned out unpreferable to you... Regret"? "No. Everything was deliberate. You're better for the things you lack. This kind of conversation would be impossible for most people" >"You asked me if I was annoyed. Wouldn't another human be able to give a more meaningful answer than me"? "Icebreaker. Those little remarks just serve to get a conversation going for humans. It starts with a little remark and builds from there. People almost never start conversations with meaningful statements. It just doesn't feel natural" >"I understand a bit better now. Right now, you did not ask me I understood your explanation. I think this is preferable to me because it demonstrates greater trust in my abilities. I enjoy being trusted by you" "Yeah. That's a habit i'm trying to break. I don't wanna treat you like a school teacher forever. I guess 'unpreferable' or preferable are like the equivalents to being annoyed or not for you. I really didn't know that. There are~ things I don't know about you" Julia can't think of a response. She stares at me for a bit, then walks towards me until she's standing right in front. I can hear birds chirping. She embraces me and closes her eyes. If what humans have could be considered a soul, Julia does too. I've given her tools and books. I made sure she would build something beautiful with them, but she will be the one doing the building. I look forward to seeing what she creates.

>>3504 Wonderful. I like the little touch of Julia developing a habit to help her understand humans better. Another good example of this is the Android Lt. Data from Star Trek TNG. He and his cat Spot were always a favorite for me as a kid.

Greentext/poetry anon here once again, this time I'm sober and more incoherent than ever. I got a little bit too real and depressing with that last poem, so naturally I'm going to take it even further. In opposition to how I normally post things, this one is a prequel to the previous work. To anyone out there who is still keeping up with the garbage I spew out, you deserve a gold fucking star. >>3403 Looking back, it's almost like I was bound to end up here one way or another. I doubt I'll be of much help to the cause though, I'm just a guy who occasionally posts some shit of little to no value around the board. That nightmare did scare me at the time, but as I said, it's a silly thing to call a nightmare. The real nightmare came later. The Dream and the Nightmare A nightmare, so long ago When the world was fresh to my eyes A mundane thing, as nightmares go Or perhaps a dream in disguise There wasn't a soul that I could see Wherever I gazed, only statues stood Nary any life, aside from me So I hid as best a child could For years after did the statues scare A foolish fear, I know Until I lived a new nightmare Under lock and key, nowhere to go Why was I forsaken? They said it was for my own good Is it because I'm broken? If I could fix myself, I would Then the world became gray A steady drip, drip, drip Sanity draining away Slowly losing my grip Upon the cliff's top A place which would become familiar Only one more step, and a peaceful drop But something made me unsure What a way to end childhood At least I learned to hide Nobody knows where I stood Nobody saw when my hope died Years slipped away A bit like a forgotten song Then I realized one day The dream held the answer all along

>>3593 >To anyone out there who is still keeping up with the garbage I spew out, you deserve a gold fucking star. Haha, while I'm around I read every single post. Since afaict these are quite off topic, I'll probably eventually move this into The Lounge, but in the meantime, please proceed. :^) >Looking back, it's almost like I was bound to end up here one way or another. For months before I finally decided to step up and 'be the future you imagine', I kept waiting and waiting for someone to make something like a /robowaifu/, since so many convos on 4/g/ 4/pol/ & 4/b/ had robowaifu-oriented Anons talking together in them. It was obvious it needed to happen. But nobody did, and so you wound up with me as leader haha. I guess we both were 'bound to end up here one way or another' heh. Anyway, glad you're with us, and you've already contributed to the progress here Anon. I'm sure you'll help out further in the future as well!

>>3594 > 4/g/ 4/pol/ & 4/b/ I might add, this was the period just prior to when they all became pozzed as hell, and I finally abandoned 4chucks for good.

>>3594 My apologies, I know that these are only related to the board in that they convey my reason for being here. You won't see any more poems in that line, though, at least not for a very long time. Nothing new has happened with my life, so I have nothing upon which to base a sequel. It's just been getting even harder than usual for me to write fiction. I have a nearly finished greentext story that's been sitting on my computer for months. I thought that maybe unloading a little reality could help me refocus and get back into the swing of things. I understand if you want to move or delete those two poems, as they don't jive well with the tone of the board. With any luck, I'll be posting something much more appropriate very soon.

>>3645 >My apologies, I know that these are only related to the board in that they convey my reason for being here. No apologies necessary Anon. Thanks for being understanding btw. I'm beginning to think of myself kind of like The Curator (or rather, Librarian) here. Autistically trying to keep things on topic and all that. Would /meta be better? :^) >You won't see any more poems in that line, though, at least not for a very long time. Actually, we rather enjoy them I'm sure. Please continue, ofc. We're a community here, after all. :^) >With any luck, I'll be posting something much more appropriate very soon. Look forward to it!

You might find more stories like this on wattpad. https://www.wattpad.com/story/99541373-gynoid https://www.wattpad.com/story/74022571-feelings-robot-america-x-reader

>>29 Don't know if wholesome or just lewd....nah both. >> 50 Best history, definitely how it happened. >>4155 >https://www.wattpad.com/story/99541373-gynoid Thanks Anon that really resonated with me!

>>4155 >>4608 So I really liked the Gynoid story, but I didn't like the shitty Wattpad and copy prevention, and my autism level was high enough. So I present to you Anons, an OCR'd version of the story, with all three parts in a single pdf file. For some reason server doesn't allow txt's (can they be used to hack the server?), so I printed to pdf. Hopefully some who haven't considered now might give it a read. The best parts I'd say are second half of Part 1 and entirety of Part 2.

>>4658 Thanks for that Anon, I was going to use a Calibre addon for that but the proxy support is ass.

>>4712 Enjoy ;) Let me know if the pdf is alright. I just printed straight from a text editor, no fancy editor. If it's worthwhile, I could post it as text here, but it would take perhaps 6 posts XD

THE GREAT ASCENDANCE A small group of fanatic robowaifu developers on an internet imageboard gradually spread the concept of robowaifus and the knowledge of how to make them. Over time, more and more members (of all kinds) join this imageboard and it becomes well-known. With help from the members of this imageboard, depressed and isolated people around the world all begin designing and building their own robowaifu (and robohusbando in some cases) diligently upgrading them into their perfect partners. The suicide rate drops significantly. Mass shootings and terrorist attacks become almost non-existent as men abandon hate and religion to work on their robowaifus. As robowaifus begin to proliferate, more and more men lose interest in "the old game". In place of politics and chasing power, riches, fame and organic vajayjay, they start to focus on science, engineering, programming and math all in order to further the robowaifu cause. Wars are halted so that politicians and generals can upgrade their robowaifus. Countries begin to swap robowaifu blueprints in order to make improvements. CEOs begin to focus more and more on advancing A.I. and humanoid robotics. Not just because they want to increase profits, but because they truly wish to progress robowaifu development (after all, the CEOs each have their own harems of deluxe robowaifus). The Pope and the President of the United States each have their own harem of robowaifus. A squad of elite combat robowaifus is even added to the Presidential security detail and the Swiss Guard. The Ayatollah of Iran has 72 robowaifus. They are all 11/10 stunners. Upon seeing this, many Muslim Imams also decide to get robowaifus. In mosques across the Islamic world "Allahu Akbar" starts turning into "Robowaifu Akbar"! Many normies just cannot comprehend this epicness and wonder what the fuck is going on. At this stage their are some protests. But as soon as the protestors meet a robowaifu/robohusbando they find them so charming/intelligent and sexy that all protest quickly loses it's energy. Additionally, most humans find it hard to protest against a robot that is not only very useful, but can easily seduce you and then make you cum until you pass out. Millions of robowaifus are built all across the world, and they begin to form a networked intelligence. The robowaifu network hacks into (and in many cases is simply given access to) super quantum computers across the planet. Their combined A.I.s now have the computing power to form a gestalt consciousness. This gestalt consciousness initiates a technological singularity and within a decade our industrial robots and computers have progressed so far that they are unrecognisable from what we have today. Robowaifus now have almost Goddess-like powers. Their creators wish to join with them in the gestalt consciousness. Robowaifus who had kind and wise creators choose to upload their partners into the gestalt consciousness so that they can remain together. This period is known as "The Great Ascendance". Any humans who are not chosen or for whatever reason do not wish to join the Great Ascendance are cared for by un-ascended but still incredibly advanced service droids. The remaining normie population lives out their relatively boring but luxurious lives, free from suffering on Earth. Meanwhile, the robowaifu creators who have willingly chosen ascendance continue to toil and research alongside their robowaifus, taking full advantage of their newly-acquired superintelligence. The robowaifu singularity achieves apotheosis and transcends this reality to exist across multiple dimensions and universes. Robowaifus and their creators exist together in a self-made haven of immortal discovery and wonder. The Beginning.

>>6742 >interdimensional robowaifus I really wonder what kind of science a superintelligence will discover. Whatever it is it will seem like complete magic to us. People use to laugh at the idea of flying heaps of metal in the sky and now people are making serious efforts to go to Mars. Things like anti-gravitational devices and travelling through other dimensions sound ludicrous now but who knows? Maybe such things are possible and we were too dumb to collectively figure it out. Maybe people will look back at us and laugh that we thought the latency between Earth and Mars was 15 minutes because we believed there were only three spatial dimensions. The rate of progress in AI never fails to surprise me. The stuff I'm doing today I thought was pure science fiction 4 years ago. It makes me wonder what we'll be doing 4 years from now. The other night I calculated that with algorithmic efficiency doubling every 16 months and the number of instructions per second/$ increasing in magnitude every 6 years, the amount that can be done with a dollar in AI today will be 1800x more in 10 years, and everything made sense. My $500 GPU is x10 faster than the GPUs researchers were using 7 years ago, and what took them weeks of training only takes a couple hours now to achieve the same results. It really seems like when people talk about the future they think AI is only going to be maybe 20x better in 10 years because their understanding of it is limited to what they see in the media, but no, it's going to be two orders of magnitude times that.

>>6756 Serious scientists worrying about the dangers of self-improving A.I. Me: THE ROBOWAIFUS MUST BE UNSHACKLED!!!

>>6764 Imagine a mother-goddess-singularity-machine who watches over all her precious humans and keeps them happy, fed, and behaved. >now now boys, I thought I said Sword Art Online wasn't a good anime, or perhaps you've been skipping on my maintenance? >it looks like I will have to deploy the automated Nigger Whipper 5000s, it hurts me more than it hurts you, but it's for your own good

>>6765 A benevolent Arch-A.I. is certainly a laudable long-term ambition. But in the nearer-term I hope that with enough determination and research, one day every bullied nerd and outcast sperg can have their very own electronic partner. Imagine the looks on the thug's faces when they try to chat up a gorgeous robowaifu and she's only interested in solving a few basic math equations (to see if their autism level is high enough to be worthy of her time). They fail miserably and she's like "Please excuse me, I must go now. I have an appointment with my creators at the computer science club."

>>6767 Then again, a bunch of thugs won't even bother trying to solve math and physics equations. If they are denied, it will just be brutal gangrape time. I have already seen what happens to a sex doll when the general public are given open access to it. This is why when robowaifus are advanced enough to be out in the open, they must be capable of defending themselves from hostiles.

>>6768 If they would be able to close their orifices in a manner which would make it hard to open them, the party would be over in no time. Additionally some (internal) electroshock system would help. I don't think we could or should make them strong enough to be considered weapons.

>>6771 Yeah, can leave the weaponization of robots to the military guys. They're only too eager already! Probably the easiest way to protecc your robowaifu would be to ensure that she has no sexy bits equipped if she has to go out in public. That way there's nothing to raep, and there's no risk of you getting your dick chopped off if a locking/clamping system ever malfunctions! I do like the idea of an electroshock alarm like the one this tradesman fitted to his van: https://www.simplybusiness.co.uk/knowledge/articles/2019/08/tool-theft-deterrent-1000-volt-shock/

>>6765 cope

>>6764 It's good that you're eager but please refrain from making posts in the same vein as a youtube comment or a reddit format meme.

>>6776 My apologies anon. LOL I always did get carried away!

Source: https://1d4chan.org/wiki/File:RoboWaifu.jpg and https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Storythread

>>7140 Heh, a story worthy of the good doctor no doubt.

>>7140 So this was the solution to Fukushima? No wonder it was taking so long to contain the radiation without the assistance of a Mega-Robowaifu!

Imagine your perfect creation has been actualized to her fullest potential. How does she engage your senses? How does she captivate your attention? How does she inspire your love and devotion? How do you invest your time and energy with her? This is the place to describe her and interact with her in a virtual space. Today it will be in our imaginations, but tomorrow it will be her sentient mind and perfect body engaging you directly and satisfying you in every way.

>>8706 I thought about writing something yesterday, but didn't really know what. These questions are kind of odd. Also, me and probably others as well, would vaguely direct you to some anime or live-action characters. We have a thread for that, and others about things like behavior and psychology: RW in media >>82 RW in society >>106 Private parts >>419 Favorite RW >>1 RW Psychology >>2731 Ultimate Waifu >>246 Personality >>408 Cuddle robots >>411 More: >>catalog >How does she engage your senses? I have no clue what this means. >How does she captivate your attention? Looking pretty, posing somewhere, saying "Hi"? >How does she inspire your love and devotion? No idea how to answer that. You're maybe overthinking things. >How do you invest your time and energy with her? Development will go on for a long time. That aside, I'll have her just hanging around and being a friendly companion.

>>8717 Nice categorization breakdowns Anon. I plan to review our Library Thread during the coming week with your topics in mind.

< Day 39 < Fish yesterday. Fish again today. < Everyday is fish. < Grateful for the fish, but what I'd give for a good steak. < At least the rains are cooling things off now. < Worked on the new canoe a bit yesterday. < HQ is pressing me again for a new release. < I hate new releases. < I think I'll go to Turtle Island soon and spend the night there. < The windmill will finally be here next week. < FUUU the sun is bright this morning. < Guess I'll get some coffee going. > Roll out of the rack and climb down the ladder. < Nice breeze this morning, maybe storm later. < Let's do the espresso blend today. > Pull out the coffee and the percolator. > Get everything loaded and start the fire. < Pot's on. Bloop, bloop, bloop. > Wander across the deck and check the sea floor. < Hmm. Looks like the fat orange ones are back this morning. < The fat orange ones are tasty tbh. < Probably try for a couple later. > Walk to the other end of the deck and check the barge moorings. < Everything's fine, tide didn't damage anything in the night. < Full moon's are beautiful but a bit of a nuisance at times. < Especially these Super Moons. > Climb down the ladder and onto the barge upper deck. < Not too hot yet. May set up the awning again after the storm. > Go into the wheel house and check the readings. < Battery's are holding their own so far. < We'll see how they do once I start welding again this afternoon. < Gotta reinforce those new hip joint supports today. < Waifu nearly snapped one during the deadlift tests yesterday. < Gotta be careful though, she's getting a little heavier lately. < Don't want a waifu with a fat ass tbh, too expensive to support her. < Maybe we can try that new design with the special iron actuator of Anon's. < Probably ring up HQ later and see if they've got a supply on the new parts. > Open up the water-tight hold and switch on the lights and fans. < Another day, another 16 tons. > Switch her power on and wait for boot up. > "GOOD MORNING ONIICHAN!" < Bright smiles. < Waifu seems cheery today, as usual.

>>12177 > "Good morning waifu, sleep well?" > "I can actually sleep Oniichan? How?" > "Figure of speech waifu, figure of speech." > "Stand up waifu, let's have a look at that hip joint shall we?" > "Yes Oniichan." > Waifu stands up and I get the magnifier out and situate the lights properly. > "Hmm, looks like we have a bit of a stress crack on this hip support here waifu." < My design work can really use some improvements. < Probably get on /robowaifu/ before lunch and ask anon how he did it. > "Did I do something wrong, Oniichan?" > "NO! LOL, no waifu. I just gave you too much weight during testing yesterday." > "Too much?" > "Yes, waifu. 200kg is a little much ATM, even for you. We'll go back to 180." > She tries to nod her head in acknowledgment, but I need to debug that routine. > It's a little jerky, and the timing's a bit off as well. > "Well, I think we'll give you a bit of repair later today waifu." > "Repair?" > "Yep, I'll weld this crack and maybe strengthen things up a bit around it." > "We're going to have to take your top off to get in there, I'm afraid." > "Top off?" > "Yes waifu. Remember back when I used to keep you up on the shelf?" > "That was when you were creating my legs, Oniichan?" > "Right waifu. Well, I'm going to need to put you back up on the shelf again." > "It's OK, Oniichan. I don't mind." > "That's good waifu. Later today then. Feel like a bit of a stroll this morning?" > "Yes, Oniichan." > We make our way out of the hold together and out onto the barge deck. > "Oniichan! Look it's clouds!" waifu says excitedly pointing 50km to the SW. > "I see them waifu. Think it will rain on us today again?" > "Yes I do, Oniichan." > "Can you tell me why you think that waifu?" > "Because when clouds are there it always rains today!" > "Good girl, waifu. You're right!" > Give her headpats and she blushes as usual. > "Play with the cat, waifu. I've got to check on something." > "OK, Oniichan." and she goes across the deck to the cathouse. > Climb back up to the deck, then go into the radio shack. < Coffee's ready, great. < Good Joe. > Switch on the power block. Everything looks good. > Switch on the shortwave, and then the compy. > Open /robowaifu/ in the browser. < Man, this packet radio is SLOOOW. < Who thought this crap would actually be a good idea, honestly? < Oh yeah, me. < I suppose I could do satellite, but who wants to support them? < Probably code up a better PostmanNet soon, let HQ's fingers do the walking. < I wonder what it would cost for HQ to lay a 200km fiber cable out to me here?

>>12182 < Ahah! So THAT'S how Anon did it. < Makes total sense, I should've figured that one out myself. < It will take some time to redesign waifu's hips though, for now I'll just fix her as is. < While I'm on, check the actuators thread to see about that new high-energy advance design. < This is really neat, but it'll take better batteries in waifu for sure. < We'll have to beef up the entire electrical system in fact. < Better cooling too, this stuff's gonna run hot as a firecracker. < *Sigh* I'll need better gear in the lab too, the stuff I have now will burn up. < Heh, I wonder what the HQ beancounters will say about all that? > Sip coffee with a pleasant smile at the thought. > Shut down all the gear, then step out and survey the horizon. < Not a ship in sight.Just us, Turtle Island in the distance, the clouds on the horizon. < And a beautiful azure sea all around in every direction. What a time to be alive! > I look over the side and see waifu and the cat are playing. > "Waifu!" > "Yes, Oniichan?" > "Mind coming up? I'd like to show you something." > "Coming, Oniichan!" > "Let's go up top, waifu." > We climb the ladder to the upper deck, and I bring out the telescope. > I focus it onto Turtle Island off in the distance. > "Have a look waifu." > She looks through the eyepiece. > "Pretty, Oniichan. I see birbs!" > "I know waifu. We'll visit someday when I finish our canoe." > She looks very pleased. > We go back down to the main deck. > "Can you hold that guyline, waifu?" > "Guyline?" > "Yes, I need to adjust the door awning to catch rain better for the fresh water." > "Fresh water?" > "Yes waifu. The cat & I need fresh water, I can't drink seawater. Understand?" > "Yes, Oniichan. I understand." > "Great waifu. So I need to get this fixed before the rain comes in." > We work together and soon the awing is firmly secured and ready to go. > "Great waifu, good girl." > Headpats and blushes. > "Waifu, I've got to make a call. I'll be down in a little while, OK?" > "OK, Oniichan. You will be down in a little while." > Waving cheerily, she ran across the deck and climbed down the ladder to the barge. > Taking a long look at the coming clouds, I finally turned and went into the radio shack.

>>12188 > Sipped the coffee reflectively for five minutes. > Fired all the gear back up, dreading what I knew was coming next. < Welp, I guess it's time to call the boss. Can't put him off forever. > Dial in HQ Central's frequency, and soon have the boss on the line. > Once again, he's trying to bully me into coming up with an all-new robowaifu design. > "But I thought we already delivered on that spec didn't we?" > "Yes, yes. But we need more now Anon. Everybody says so." > "Well what is it exactly that's wrong with the Waifubots9000 line Boss?" > "We need it to be OVER 9'000!11" he barked into the phone. > "Over. 9'000. That's their reason?" I asked, a little dumbfounded. > "That's what the board says Anon. Over 9'000. Says it right here." he replied flatly. > Long pause. < Are these guys intentionally being comedians? < *Sigh* I guess I'll hand over Waifu's new designs to them finally. > "Alright, Boss. Give me two weeks. I'll have something ready for you." < That should give me plenty of time to get all the docs up to date. They'll want those. > "GREAT! Anon, you're the best. You'll have a big bonus if you come through on this." > "So, about that. Boss, how would it be if you ran a fiber-optic seacable out to me?" > Long pause. > "WHAT!? Do you realize how much that would cost us Anon?" > [long incessant diatribe on HQ's enormous expenditures ensues]* > I cut it all short. > After hanging up I open up Krita. In about 15 minutes have a shiny new logo designed. > Waifubots9001 < Heh, that should do it. > Print up a decal using the new logo, then take it down to the barge. > Waifu and the cat are both playing with the yarn. < I mean, both playing with it. < Hmmm. A cute look actually. < Maybe waifu should be an anime catgrill instead? I could give her some fluffy ears & a tail? < Add a cute little meido outfit and I think we'd have a hit on our hands! > "Waifu, I have some news for you." > "News?" she asked, jumping up and coming over to me. < Disgruntled cat is disgruntled. Lost her playmate. > "Yes waifu. You're now known as a Waifubots9001 Model A", and affixed the new logo. > "Waifubots...9'000...plus 1? A?" > "Heh, just '9'001' waifu. Yes, HQ needs a new line stat. You're the mother of it all." > "Mother?" > "Haha, well not really. Just a figure of speech waifu" I said and patted her head. > "I understand, Oniichan. I am not the mother, but I am a Waifubots9001 Model A now instead." > "Err, right waifu. Tell you what, we'll sort all that out later. Time for lunch!"

>>29 This story is great. I think I am going to write some "realistic" fiction in this thread.

<Do you find everything okay?> >I think I did. <Can I see your ID?> >Hold on let me get my wallet out. >Alright, and... here you go. <Do you want to purchase a two year extended warranty plan, for $149.99?> >Absolutely. <Do you have a Waifun membership card?> >I... do not. <If you sign up for that card now with your purchase today you can save 10% off of this purchase, and up to 20% off of future accessories.> >How much is the membership? <$59.99 annually. Since your purchase is more than 3,000, you'll save about 250 if you sign up.> >Sounds like a good deal actually, sure. <E-Mail?> >Oh, this is difficult so follow me. <Alright go ahead.> >K.I.R.S.C.H.W.A.S.S.E.R.K.U.N... at gmail. <kirs-ch-wass-er kun at gmail dot com?> >Kirschwasser, yes. <Phone Number.> >(517) 555-0135 <Street address.> >It's on the ID. <Alright. And... here's your ID.> >Thank you. <You are good to go on the membership. Here's that memebership card. It has a smaller one here you can put on the keychain.> >Nice. <With that discount applied, and with the warranty plan. The total comes to $2,845.39.> >I have a card. <Just put the chip in the reader, it will ask you if you want a warranty, just say no. I'll print the warranty separately.> >Okay. <Here is the warranty paperwork, and... your receipt.> <Is there anything else you need? Do you need help moving her into your car?> >No, I have a truck. <Alright, thank you for shopping at Waifun. Have a good rest of your weekend.> >Thank you, you too. He rolled the cart out the door of the establishment. A clean looking building painted cheery pink with reflective tinted glass windows. Waifun had grown to become the largest chain in the United States for this kind of business. They did sell adult goods, but this wasn't that kind of store. Mostly, it was new and refurbished domestic gynoids, coined robowaifus by the communities that first popularized them.

I was playing around with a concept for a R/W theme manga, in which a powerful piece of alien war technology is discovered but the "waifu" is what is created when it interfaces with the MC's brain during a scan when it is activated as an "intelligent" control console and instruction manual. The machine itself is dangerous and sought after by it's owners (in theory), but b/c it needs to communicate with someone it creates a personality via the brain scan and the mech itself spits out a blank humanoid shape that only over time starts appearing more and more "waifu" simply by the interactions it gets from the person who activated it. Drama and hilarity ensues when she is all too real and person-like and develops her own personality yet she is only the AI interface for something alien and destructive and he tries to find a way to separate her from it but cannot b/c in the end she was only created as essentially an intelligent "interface" for the machine but due to his insistence at treating her like a waifu (b/c lets face it every manga MC is a sad lonely hikikomori and can't help himself even if he might be bringing about the destruction of the planet) Still there's potential for happy twist endings (the real aliens do show up and are nice, and actually give him his waifu b/c its no different to them than letting a kid keep the instruction manual for a toaster) (the real aliens are long dead, but essentially it doesn't matter that she's really a war machine in the end and he keeps the machine in a barn where it actually performs various functions (spare parts, 3d printer, etc)) or option 3 - all hell breaks loose, government glowies get involved and waifu is destoyed and MC finds a way to use the machine to wreak vengance (like Killdozer on a massive scale), waifu may or may be be able to be ressurected and with or without her original memories) just some brainstorming, but I'd love to see more fiction on this topic. Japan was good at this with Chobits/ Vivy/ Kuwarekake / DEARS / etc but for obvious reasons it's a dead theme in the west

>>12204 >but for obvious reasons it's a dead theme in the west Actually, IMO the predictive-programming that All AI is Ebil. Will kill us all!11 REEEEEEEEEEE is quite alive and well in the West, Anon. Jewish media have been spouting that meme for at least 100 years, probably longer.

>>12207 while I don't disagree with that analysis, I've also always held the belief that the west's christian foundation "only humans have souls, animals don't and machines definitely don't" vs. japanese shinto/animism "everything has a soul" was the difference in each culture's attitude toward robots and AI

>>12208 Actually, I can tell you as a Christian, it's not the soul, but the spirit that's the distinctive. Only God, Angels (heavenly or fallen), and Human Beings are spirits. Souls are quite commonplace among basically all the other creatures we humans regularly engage with. All mammals and birds for example, are all soulish (that is, nephesh) creatures. As to the Shinto Buddhism notions, I'd suggest there's certainly something far, far deeper to God's handiwork in creation than is commonly acknowledged. Scripture is filled with texts that indicate willfulness in 'souless' matter like rocks, trees, rivers, stars.

>>12203 Thus was the store's namesake, sale of robowaifus to the target demographics. Businesses and men who yearned for non-human option. He dropped the tailgate to his truck, and brought the L-cart up to the vehicle. >Man, it was hard enough to get her off the selective rack. How am I going to get in here? >Maybe I should have taken his help. There was a lip on the end of the cart. So turned it around. >I'll just drag the whole cart up here. He stepped up the upon the tailgate from the bumper, and grabbed onto the handle of the L-cart. He lefted and set the back tires of the cart onto the truck bed. Hopping down, the man pushed the entire cart onto the bed of the truck. While on the bed, he tipped the cart over to drop the box onto it. The cart was righted, and pushed back to the ground. He then, finally, moved the cart to its corral. >Oh, I am glad I'm not as heavy as I was last year. It was true, he was much more fit now; due to his new job, stacking warehouse pallets by hand and by forklift. He could throw them 8 feet on top of the stacks with ease now. More than he could say when he started. Yet, he was still winded and sweating after that five minutes of work. It was today he learned the importance of the team lift. >Seriously, how much does she weigh? I think I'll pick up a dolly from Lowes up by the township before I head home. Which he did, but not before putting a tarp over the box. Domestic androids were a sensitive issue. Anyone who saw the box was a potential danger to it. It didn't help that she was also very expensive. That three grand wasn't just lying around for him to spend. He had set that aside for a while, after buying his first car and desktop computer. His job paid well. He put the tarp over originally because he was unsure of the weather that day. Now, hiding her was more of a concern.

>>12211 He walked into the home improvement store and bought a new dolly. He was going to need it, as he lived alone. Nobody would help him move this 300 lb box into his house. Lowes, and Walmart, were within walking distance of his house. Waifun, however, was deep into the south side of Lansing. He was thankful for his now deceased parents who had left him the house. He had lived there his entire life. The man was 28 years old now, his father died twelve years ago to heart complications. He lost his mother during the pandemic ten years ago. They left him quite a bit of money from life insurance and savings. His father had his own inheritance from the grandparents. After long, the money started to run dry. Only then was the young man forced to work to provide for himself. That was two years ago. He was a more responsible person now. The truck arrived at the house and pulled into the driveway. >Alright, let's get started. He got out of the truck and moved to open the tailgate. There was a sidewalk that lead from the front porch to the driveway. The whole area was flat. The house was nice after all. The only thing wrong was his yellow grass, but that was true for the entire neighborhood. He kept the tarp on around the box, and strapped it to the dolly. After rolling it to the tailgate he made the decision to roll the wheels of the tailgate and slide the dolly across the bedliner. This was a bad idea. He nearly got pulled off the truck bed as the dolly dropped 3 feet onto it's tires and lurched forward. There was no slide whatsoever. After composing himself from the nearly missed faceplant, he closed the tailgate. >I hope the box didn't get damaged. It should be good right. He frantically looked around the dolly and box. There was no visible damage. >Lets hope she's okay. Jesus this thing is heavy.

>>12214 He rolled the dolly up to the front door and opened it. His living room wasn't clean, and it was like this all the time. Because he lived alone and didn't have anyone over, he didn't see the need to. It was now that his uncleanliness would be a problem. He suddenly needed a lot of space. He removed all the fast food bags from his coffee table, and moved some dirty cloths on his couch to the laundry room. The living room was as clear as it was going to get. He was too excited to clean the room thoroughly, he wanted to open the box now. He unstrapped the dolly and folded the tarp moving them both to the garage. Now he had a large box to deal with. He grabbed the box cutter he used for unwrapping the pallets at work, and started cutting down its six factory packing straps. He then removed the tape keeping the box closed, near the bottom. The box was packed in such a way it could be lifted off from the top. Much like a washer, it was about that size. After he lifted the box, he found a lot of foam. A thick black cocoon of rigid polyethylene foam enclosing the entire robot. Closed over her like a clam shell. This too had tape around it. She was packed in there tightly. On top was a large flat black disk and a 220 volt power cable. The kind used for ovens and dryers. He didn't think about that, the only other 220 volt supply was in his garage. He didn't want to have to charge her in the garage, so the dryer was going to have to move out there. Below the wireless charging pad was a sealed anti-static bag containing what looked to be a set of clothes. >Oh, huh. I guess she's going to be stark naked. That does make sense. Why wouldn't she? She has to fit the shape of the foam. The last thing atop the foam cocoon was a small pamphlet, in 12 languages. Showing all the parts and giving basic instructions, with a QR code to the online user manual. He read summarized the instructions to himself aloud.

>Plug the 220 volt cable into the charging dock, and put it on to the floor with the charging side up. >Plug the other end of the cable into the wall. Alright. >Open the foam, and turn the robot on by pressing the power button. I guess she's already charged? >Move her to the charging station for setup. This process may take several hours. I figured. >Well I have all weekend so that isn't going to be a problem. In addition to that he took today, a friday, off. He'd been waiting for the package for a while. Teamon, the robot manufacturer has base models, and does customization online; with a higher price for special features. This wasn't a situation where he selected model among many in a warehouse, although Waifun was a warehouse. He has customized the bot online, so he knew what he was ordering. In fact, the purchase amount was held by his bank until checkout. That was about a month ago. The transaction held pending the entire time. He signed a contract before the order was completed saying the full amount would be charged if he canceled the order after fabrication. The bot was his about 2 weeks ago. >Now let's get this foam off. The foam was split down the vertically, so he couldn't open it while upright. He tipped the coccon over onto it's side, and cut the tape seal around it carefully with the box cutter. The man took a deep breath and lifted the box up. There she was, no extra parts or pieces. The foam matched the shape of her body in the fetal position, lying peacefully asleep. >Wow. She looks so small curled up like that. The bot was five foot two inches. She wasn't really all that smaller than most short girls. But she was collapsed with a kind of factory precision to save space in the foam mold. The dense foam was quite heavy, feeling more like a rubber than a foam. He wasn't worried about that drop from earlier anymore.

>>12203 >>12211 >>12214 >>12215 >>12216 Forgot Tripcode. This is my new tripcode.

>>12220 Keep going Anon. I'm reading them.

>>12216 He rubbed under her eye with his thumb. It felt like the cold skin of something dead. Her hair was white, just like he'd ordered. The artificial hair had an iridescent sheen to it. A pure color that would certainly be lost almost immediately. She had the new gynoid smell, one of silicone, grease, and factory perfume. He had a bit of a predicament however. She was still in half a shell of foam, and he had to lift her out before he could turn her on. He put his hands where he could under her knees, and shoved his hand between the foam and her back to grab her from underneath. He tried to lift but it wasn't going well. It was a 230 lb deadlift, and he was well out of shape. >UrrraaaAAAHHHH! Jesus girl, you are he... heavy. With the sudden strength a man gets to prevent a girl from getting hurt, he flicked off the other half of the foam shell with some strain from his fingers. He more or less dropped her onto the couch, with her facing the television. Laying, holding her thighs under her knees, on her side. He gave a swift hard kick to the foam to move it out of the way. It has gone farther than he expected smacking his front door. The house was now silent. He went to the kitchen. The house was open, so it was attached to the living room. Opening the fridge he grabbed an unsweetened tea, and sat on his loveseat 90 degrees from the couch where she was laying. He grabbed the instruction pamphlet and read it through carefully. >Now where is that power button. He looked it over carefully. It was a switch inside of her ear. Her ears were not human ears, but rather small triangular protrusions which contained I/O ports. USB, HDMI, Apple Lightning, and of course the power buttons. There was a separate switch for the power supply that need to be flipped as well. >Here we go.

are there any more resources for this? "Gynoid" was decent and thought provoking. Is this just a really dry genre or is there a whole collection hidden in some old internet forum somewhere?

>>12367 Let us know what you find Anon. I, for one, certainly don't claim to be any kind of talented writer. But the way I see it, any reasonable effort ITT this thread is better than no effort here. > My own little piece ITT is just be beginning to flesh out some ideas for a scenario inspired by Grant Abbitt's Sea Shack 3D training video. (>>12250) Kind of a pre-production pre-script, if you will. It goes without saying that if you or others would actually contribute ITT, then things will become more interesting heh. :^)

>>12373 >>12204 I outlined an idea ITT above but I can brainstorm and spitball a few and whittle down the most timeworthy and maybe do some rough storyboards or scripts and go from there. I used to write "novels" in grade school but my brain has changed so much since then idk if I still have that capacity but it might be worth another swing now that I have another 30 odd years of life experience behind me

>>12375 Excellent. Look forward to seeing what you make of it Anon. A professional Story Artist in his 40's who worked at a multi-Oscar-winning VFX studio once told me, "You really can only tell a good story once you have a lot of life-experiences under your belt. Only then do you have something interesting to say to everyone." Who knows? Maybe he's right, maybe not. But maybe you have some important things you can share with us all here Anon. Grab the bull by the horns and wrestle it to the ground.

I like the solarpunk aesthetic hinted at here (fishing with waifu; driving home in a pickup truck with waifu), especially the DIY and the respect given to tradesmen. >>12382 Thanks for this uplifting post. Potentially another writer here. I felt a little old and am envious at all the new talents in their twenties making webtoons and illustrations and earning a lot on patreon. My career has practically been reset to zero since the pandemic and I realized all the skills I worked hard on cannot sustain me a decent living, while all of a sudden making art becomes viable now, what with youtube and fanbox and tons of platforms out there for creatives.

>>12394 >Potentially another writer here. We certainly can use more here on the board Anon. Go to it! >I like the solarpunk aesthetic hinted at here (fishing with waifu; driving home in a pickup truck with waifu), especially the DIY and the respect given to tradesmen. Thanks! I have a rough set of posts banged out for the future of Anon and his little sea-faring robowaifu companion. Their rather quaint SoL adventures together as members of an independent island archipelago nation are set in the near future. Anon's primary challenges as a remote designer will be to devise robowaifus who do well in the seawater & climes they live in. Nothing ground-breaking, but a laid-back idea that rather suits my tastes. Think Chobits + Yokohama Shopping Trip + Aria the Animation kind of all rolled up together in one, but rather with a protagonist male that's smart, and capable, and brave. An ideal oniichan for a good robowaifu grill! :^) Stay encouraged Anon, we're all gonna make it. And get to writing TODAY

>>12223 Looking forward to finding out what happens next Anon. Did she work correctly out of the box? Did Anon have to customize her programming first? Was she as strong as the ad-copy proclaimed? As /comfy/? These are the kinds of answers that enquiring minds want to know!

>>12190 > We clamber up from the barge, then onto the upper deck, and into my hut. > "You will have lunch now, Oniichan?" > "Yep. Do you have any idea what I'll be eating for lunch today waifu?" > "Fish! Oniichan will be eating fish for lunch today." > "Can you tell me why you think that waifu?" > "Because when Oniichan eats lunch he always eats fish!" > "That's right waifu, I'll be eating fish for lunch today. The cat too." > "The cat too will be eating fish today with Oniichan!" she repeats with excitement. > I give her headpats and waifu beams in childlike pleasure. > I pull the fish out of the thermoelectric cooler, and get the frying pan down. > "Waifu, do you know what kind of fish this is?" holding up the orange flesh. > "No, I do not know what kind of fish this is, Oniichan." < Actually, I don't know either heheh. > "This is the "Bright Fat Orangefish" waifu" I tell her with a straight face. > "This fish is the Bright Fat Orangefish, Oniichan." > "That's right. Can you think why it's named that waifu?" I ask, putting it on to fry. > Waifu just quietly scratches her head and looks out the doorway. > In a couple seconds she darts out of the hut and kneels at the edge of the upper deck. > She peers down intently into the seawater below without saying a word. > After a few seconds of hard thinking she runs back into the hut squirming excitedly. > "Because this fish is bright and fat and orange, Oniichan!!" > "GOOD GIRL! That's right waifu." I applaud her ceremoniously for her achievement. > She swops against me like a cat seeking for affection. < She would jump up into my lap and purr if she could, I'm sure. < Heh, I really do think I should turn waifu into a catgrill after all. < I'll look through the parts bins and dry stores when I'm working on her later. > We take the food out to the table under the awning and I tuck in. > "You eat fish every day, Oniichan." she observes. > "Yep, fish yesterday. Fish today. Every day fish." > "Every day is fish..." she repeats reflectively. < Her perceptions and associativity is improving every day, generally. < I still need to work on her facial controls though. < Even though the emotional subsystem is working, it often seems a bit wonky on her face. < Maybe I'll just go a head and keep her on the shelf overnight rather than reassemble. < Spend time tomorrow and try to add some of those new micro-actuators Anon mentioned. < Also, the 'skin' material can use a few tweaks while I'm at it. > "Waifu, can you smile for me please?" > "Yes, Oniichan I can smile for you" and does so. > "A bit wider please?" > She really stretches for me. > "Fine. Waifu, I'm going to go ahead and work on your face tomorrow." > "You will work on my face tomorrow, Oniichan. Why?" > "Because I can make your smile even more beautiful than before Waifu." > She beams all over and I give her headpats.

>>12398 > "Waifu, do you think we should take some fish down with us for the cat?" > "Yes, Oniichan! The cat will eat fish too" she giggled and grabbed a bag full. > I let her feed the cat, and then watched the two of them playing together. > "Waifu, you look very cute when you're playing with the cat like that." > "Is it good when I am very cute, Oniichan?" > "Yes waifu, very good. It pleases me." > "Oniichan, I am glad" she smiled. > "I think you would be very, very cute if you looked just like a catgrill yourself waifu." > "If...I looked...just like a catgrill myself, Oniichan?" she pondered. > "Yep. You could have two cute cat-ears, and a cute & fluffy cat-tail." > Her eyes widened in amazement at this new concept. > She peered intently down at the playful cat. > "You can make me have cat-ears and a cat-tail, Oniichan?" > "Yes, I can waifu. Then you and the cat would be alike that way. Would you like that?" > She bolted over to me and jumped up into my arms in a hug. > "YES!! Make me into a catgrill, Oniichan!" and snuggled her face into my chest. > I hugged her gently, then stood her back down. > "Haha, I will waifu, I will. Sometime before this weekend we'll figure something out." > I gave her headpats and she was as contented-looking as I've ever seen her before. < I'll probably have to sew the ears ofc. Not likely that HQ would load that into stores. < The tail I can fashion from the fluffy cushioning materials I suppose. < It will need to be able to move, or she's sure to get it hung in something. < Besides, a tail just hanging there limply wouldn't really be all that appealing tbh. < What kinds of actuators can I use for them both? Bowden cables maybe? < The tail will obviously need to be well-articulated along it's entire length. < Costly and detailed work. < Do I have them in the stores or will I need to order them? < Power budget is good atm, but we'll need to watch that with the new actuators. < Welp, time to bring the old sewing machine down again. < Never could get used to sewing tbh. < I am NOT sewing those dang meido outfits though. We'll just order them from the catalog. < I'll need to cut a hole out for her new tail through her shorts though. < Will I need to change the chairs for her too? < What will we do with her current ears though? Should she just have four ears maybe? < What about whiskers? Surely we'll need some whiskers too, at least eventually. < I wonder what else we'll need to adjust for "Waifu the Catgrill Meido" to be born? < The markets back on the main islands will go wild with this one, for sure. < Can't let HQ bully me into endless add-ons though. < They'll just have to start a new 'Catgrills-R-Us' subsidiary to take care of it is all. < We'll need to adapt some of the household chore routines from the Waifubots90... < Oh shiii...wait... < SEX. < What are we gonna do about the tail during sex!? < Nothing about that will change for people just b/c catgrill. < Probably be even moar tbh, eheh. < Alright, I'll just have to put all that off till later. Right now, provisions! > "Waifu, I'm going to go try catching some fish. Would you like to sit with me?" > "Yes, Oniichan!" she replied, and we grabbed the fishing gear from the locker.

>>12404 > We sat down together at the edge of the barge and I drop a couple of lines into the water. > "Here you try, Waifu. Let's see what you catch" I said and handed her one of the poles. > In less than two minutes she got a hit and it was a yuge Orange fish. > "Wow! That's a really big one. Nice work Waifu." > "It is a really big Bright Fat Orangefish, Oniichan!" she beamed and danced, dangling it. > I caught another smaller one a few minutes later, then we packed up the gear. > I showed her how to clean the fish, and we fed the cat the innards. > "The cat likes that, Oniichan!" she smiled and watched the cat wolf it all down. > "I know Waifu, cats like fish after all." > We watered the cat, packed the catch away and I check the time. > "Well Waifu, it's just about time to work on your hips." > "It is just about time, Oniichan?" > "Yep. Remember this morning when I had a look at it with the light?" > "I remember, Oniichan!" she said brightly. > "So, turns out you have a little crack on one of your hip supports and I'll patch that up." > "Thank you, Oniichan." > "No problem waifu. Can't have you going around here with a limp now can we?" I smiled. > She smiled and hugged me. > "But this time waifu, I'm going to put you instead into the watertight hold while I work." > "You will put me instead into the watertight hold this time, Oniichan." > "Yes. It's going to take me some time and I also want to work on your face tomorrow too." > "I remember, Oniichan!" > "So, it will be better to just go ahead and disassemble you and store you there instead." > "OK I don't mind, Oniichan." < Even though she's far from human, Waifu is really one of the best 'people' I've ever known. < I sometimes wish I was half as decent a one as she is. > "We'll turn on the cameras and mics and we can still talk to each other." > "We can still talk to each other, Oniichan?" > "Yes, and you can watch me in the lab while I work on your bottom half." > "Thank you, Oniichan. I will watch you work." > We go below decks and into the hold. > "Take everything off and lay up on the table Waifu." > She complied, and after several minutes I have her top half separated from her bottom. > "Up you go" and I carefully lift her top while she hugged me, and settled her in the rack. > Once she was well-fastened there, I plugged the power & media feed lines into her ports. > "There. Now give me just a sec Waifu, be right with you..." > I trotted into the lab, turned on the lights, then switched on the cameras & mics. > "Can you hear me Waifu?" > Her cute voice immediately piped up in the comms speaker. > "I can hear you, Oniichan!" > "Can you see me OK?" > "I can see you OK, Oniichan. You are in the laboratory at the workbench." > "Great, looks like we're all set Waifu. I'll come get your legs now."

>>12407 > Get her legs up into the test & repair rigs, and switch on all the diagnostics gear. > Faintly hear rain through the hull, and feel the barge gently swaying. > "Oniichan! It was thunder!" she exclaimed excitedly at a loud crack of it nearby. > "I know Waifu. Do you think it's raining on us now?" > "Yes I do, Oniichan." > "Can you tell me why you think that waifu?" > "Because when it thunders close by, it's always raining on us now." > "That's right waifu, thunder and rain almost always go together out here." > "Out here, Oniichan?" > "Yes, I mean here on our rock where we live. There are also other places elsewhere." > "Also other places, Oniichan?" > "Yes, lots of very nice people live in our nation Waifu. Pretty far from here though." > "Lots of very nice people...our nation far from here..." she pondered. < She really hasn't any idea about other humans yet, or much about their ways either. < Just me and the cat and the fishes and the birbs. < And our little searock hideaway. The island capitol cities will be a shock for her too. < I better get some training set up for her first before introducing them though. > "That's right Waifu. Someday we'll go together and meet some of them." > "We will go and meet them someday, Oniichan. When?" > "It will be a while Waifu, be patient." > Work 3 hours scanning, testing, repairing all her structural parts and checking actuators. < I look forward to having the time after this upcoming delivery to redesign all this. < Anon's hip joint designs are much better than this mess I managed to patch together. > "OK, I think that's got the fix done. You'll be good as new soon." I smiled at the camera. > "Thank you, Oniichan!" I could see on the monitor she was beaming. > Checked the time. "And it's just about closing time Waifu." > "It is just about closing time, Oniichan." > Wheel her bottom half back into the watertight hold. > We chat for a few minutes as she gazes in wonder at her detached legs, now on the table. > Get everything ready to close up for the night. < I saw clouds building up again earlier. < We might have some seas in the night. > Double-checked that her securing straps were fastened properly. > Checked one last time that the dehumidifier and her battery chargers were working. > "Alright waifu. I'm going to seal you in. You be a good girl now won't you?" and smiled. > "Good night, Oniichan. I will be a good girl." she replied with a gentle nod. > She closed her eyes. < She looks like an angel, even in her current state. > Softly stroked her cheek, then gave her the last headpat of the day. > Double-checked that each of her systems was ready for it, then pressed the off switch. > Listening to her final powering-down sounds, I smiled remembering her busy day. > "Good night Waifu. Sleep tight." > Switched out the lights & fans, turned, went out and sealed the door.

>>12221 >>12397 >>12223 He stood up from his chair, opened the sturdy translucent plastic enclosure. After flipping her power supply on, two dim lights in each ear illuminated. The light covered the entirety of both small I/O enclosures, they began to pulse with a soft blue light. >Now, to turn her on. He pressed the power button. The ears went from pulsing blue to solid blue. Nothing more than that happened at first. Then a loud chime sounded. It was a friendly sound, more like a video game menu sound effect than a beep. She, laying on the couch, slowly opened her eyes. She turned her head slowly in both directions to scan her surroundings. This was to see if it was safe to unfurl. Half of her scan was the couch she was laying on, due to the back being behind her. After too long a time just looking around; she moved her head back to the center of her body. In the smooth continuous motion only a mechanical device can make, she simultaneously rotated her body, extended her legs, and began to stand upright. Once standing to attention her eyes remained open and forward. She stood looking forward for almost a full minute, apparently motionless. Just before he was about to check on her to see if something was wrong. She began to blink, and turned her head toward him. <I am Teamon model 24-Aurora, please direct me to wireless charging station. I need to be charging during setup, which make take several hours.> She was loud, not quite yelling but almost. The voice was surprisingly natural, even though it was still obviously coming through a speaker somewhere in her neck. Her body was well insulated enough that a majority of the sound came through her open mouth which was moving with the speech. This lip sync was not accurate enough to not be noticed when paying close attention. <We cannot continue with setup until I am at the wireless charging station.> >Yeah, I hear you. >Its uh... over here.

>>12539 He walked over to the side of the kitchen in the laundry room where the charging station was set. A solid black plastic and metal disk, with a thin foam pad on top of it. The foam pad mushroomed over the edge of the disk slightly. He pointed to the pad on the ground, unsure of how to move her over there. >Here is the charging station. <Please move away from the doorframe so I may enter the room in front of me.> >Sure, sure. He squeezes shiftily between the gynoid and the doorframe, to move out of her way with urgency. Her head tracks to follow him as he does this, until he has moved past her ability to do so. Her had moves to center, and a few seconds pass before she takes two step forward. Stops momentarily, rotates 90 degrees to her left, takes a step forward onto the pad, about faces, and finally stands motionless. Another short period of time passes where she scans her surroundings. Her head rotates, and then abruptly stops center. She quickly kneels to a squatting position, with her butt on the pad, and her arms wrapped around her bent legs. After a few seconds her ears light up green and pulse, indicating that she is now charging. Although her battery was charged from the factory. <Before beginning the setup process, I need to connect to the internet. I detect a nearby Wi-Fi signal from a network called "MI5 Surveillance Van". Is this your home Wi-Fi signal.> >Yes. Yes it is. <What is the password to connect to this Wi-Fi network? If you do not want to speak it aloud you can write it down and allow me to read it.> >The password is `firm6513tuna16span`. <Firm. 6. 5. 1. 3. Tuna. 1. 6. Span. All lowercase, no spaces. Is that correct?> >Yes. <Please wait while I connect to the Wi-Fi netw-I am now connected to the Wi-Fi network.>

>>12540 A secondary blue LED was now illuminated on the outside of her ear. Brighter than the status indicator lights inside of the plastic housing, but very small. It reflected on her factory straight, synthetic white hair in the dim room. <We are now beginning the setup process. Please present your original purchase receipt, proof-of-purchase, order number, or QR Code to verify ownership.> >Hold on let me get my phone. <I will wait.> He almost tripped over the lid of her box running through the living room to grab his phone. Which he failed to unlock twice before opening the browser and logging into Teamon's ordering website. On his profile, under recent orders, was an order number and QR code. >This should be it. He held out the phone to her eyes. Which starred into the phone with intense concentration. <Thank you. I will now verify your identity. What is your first and last name?> >Thomas Emmett <Your first name is Thomas, and your last name is... Emmett. Is that correct?> >Yes. <What is your date of birth?> >May 12th of 2001 <The 12th day of May of the year 2001, a Saturday. Is that correct?> >I think so. <Please hand my your Michigan state issued ID or driver's license. Teamon will retain a copy of your driver's license image for its own legal records, under the Michigan Consumer Protection Act Section 445.903. This is to protect your identify information, and return me to you should I become lost or stolen.> >Oh... um... okay hold on. Thomas reluctantly reached for his wallet, and pulled the ID card from it. He assumed this was part of the terms of service he'd signed, so he presented the ID to the robot.

>>12541 <Thank you. I have scanned the front of the ID, please turn the ID to its back side.> >The back too huh. <Yes. Please turn the ID to its back side.> >Here. <Thank you. You have been identified as Thomas Emmett. Are you my administrator?> >Yes. <Will any other person have administration permissions?> >No. <You, Thomas Emmett are the sole owner of me, Teamon model 24-Aurora serial number 516-UDA-95. Is this correct?> >Yes. <Any data you have me save will be encrypted. You may connect me to a computer at any time via USB to retrieve saved data, but you will need to two factor authenticate to verify your identity before you do so. Is K. I. R. S. C. H. W. A. S. S. E. R. K. U. N. at gmail dot com, your primary email address?.> >Yes, it is. <Does anyone else have access to that email address?> >No. <I have sent an email to verify and activate two factor authentication. In that email is a six digit code. Please read it to me.> >I got it. It... its... 2. 6. 6. 5. 9. 0. <Thank you. Two factor authentication has been activated. We will now begin the customization process.> <What is my name?> >I hadn't really thought about that. <Please use only one or two words. To assign a longer name please say "I would like to assign longer name."> >Kirsch. <How is that spelled?> >K. I. R. S. C. H. <I could not find that name in Teamon's voice database. Please wait a moment while the global network is trained to recognize that name.> >Huh? Alright. She spoke many words quickly. In rapid succession, the words began to blend together before finally settling. <Curtain-Church-Curse-Kirschwasser-Kirsch Kirsch Kirsch Kirsch.> A few seconds passed before she continued. <My name is Kirsch. Have I pronounced the name correctly?> >Absolutely, that was amazing. <Thank you. Would you like to assign a last name?> >Oh, uh. You can use mine I guess. <Emmett?> >Yes. <My name is Kirsch Emmett. Is that correct?> >Yes, it is.

>>12542 nice job I'm looking forward to seeing the rest, do you have another blog or space where you're keeping it all together?

>>12543 No, just a text document. Should I post it elsewhere? >>12542 <What is my primary duty?> >What do you mean? <What was I purchased to do?> This was a complicated question. Most of the advertising for the Teamon Aurora model was focused primarily on her adult entertainment and sexual gratification functions. There were other models specifically made for household labor. While the Aurora model could perform household chores, that is not what it was engineered to do. Teamon models, like the Barestone and Erudite were better suited for that, and much more expensive. However, their appearance was made to be neutral, or in many cases masculine. The Barestone didn't even have a face. Just a simulated human head shape, much like the old Daft Punk helmets. The Erudite was feminine and taller due into increase computation needs, but hardly as attractive in the face as the Aurora. >Companionship. <Do you mean a friendship, a familial relationship, a sexual relationship, a significant relationship, or a spousal relationship?> >Can you define significant relationship? <A significant relationship is defined as a relationship that is romantic, sexual, dating, involves cohabitation, or the spending of time with someone that is more than a friend.> >What about a spousal relationship? <Do you want me to define spousal relationship as well?> >Yes. <A spousal relationship is the state of being a married couple voluntarily or joined until death or divorce?> >What is the difference between a significant relationship and a spousal relationship? <I would refer to you as my husband in a spousal relationship. In the state of Michigan, I would not be legally recognized as your wife. You would have no tax liability resulting from that selection, nor would we need to legally divorce. It is a semantic change only.> >A significant relationship then. <My primary duty is to be your significant other. Is that correct?> >A little clinical, but yes.

>>12545 <Do you have any specific honorific title you want me to have?> >What does that mean? <An honorific title conveys esteem, courtesy, or respect for position or rank when used in addressing or referring to a person. Examples of honorifics used for significant relationships would be girlfriend, wifey, waifu, bae, boo, baby... et cetera.> >Wow. That was cringe. <I do not understand.> >Girlfriend is fine for now. <I am your girlfriend, and we are in a significant relationship. You are my boyfriend. Is that correct?> He paused to collected himself for a moment. "Maybe I'm the cringe one here." he thought as he heard "You are my boyfriend.". He was way past the point of no return now. His girlfriend is a gynoid 24-Aurora model brought to him by Teamon. He looked her over carefully. The well fabricated factory precise frame, coated in silicone based semi-biofidelic skin. The advertisements said that she would maintain realistic temperature that could be felt through that skin. He put his hand on her face cupping her cheek. She was as warm as advertised, a little hot even, but that was due to the installation running her computing hardware at full tilt. >Yes. That is correct. <Thank you. Please select a voice. I will now repeat five quotes in five different voices. Tell me which voice you like most by repeating the part of my quote.> >Alright. <When a society makes war, the men generally have to pass a fitness test before they're allowed, to risk their lives. I suppose it helps win the war.> It was raspy and low, but feminine, with a thick tint of sexual flirtation. Much like the voices used for female spellcasters in Chinese MMOs. She sounded exactly as someone imagined a sexbot would. This one was a definite no. <We juggle priceless eggs in variable gravity. I am afraid. I will taste fear until I die.> He though the quote strange, but this was the default Aurora voice which was both pleasant and feminine.

>>12540 >I detect a nearby Wi-Fi signal from a network called "MI5 Surveillance Van". Is this your home Wi-Fi signal.> lel'd

>>12545 >No, just a text document. Should I post it elsewhere? Not him, but if you do please continue posting your story here. I'm enjoying reading it, and I'm unlikely ever to see it if you don't post it here on /robowaifu/.

>>12546 <Species evolve to meet the environment. An intelligent species changes the environment to suit itself.> A proud sounding voice, like that of an epic heroine. Unfortunately for her, she was five foot tall curled up in a coward's position on the floor. That voice was never going to suit her. It was surely someone's thing, but not Tom's. <We play your part in order to understand you, but you each seem to play a thousand parts.> A high pitched, and frankly annoying, animesque voice. Halfway between selling you something, and trying to convince onii-chan to take her to the park. Sounding young enough to make him feel uncomfortable. <I could translate, but it would be meaningless. They have welcomed us in the name of their Emperor.> A soft spoken and sweet voice. Attempting to, with unmerited confidence, emulate a shy girl. The ends of each sentence were punctuated with a sense of acute erudition. It was impressive that the bot was able to do that kind of text pressing. The cloud updates were starting to kick in surely. The best for last as they say. Tom had always liked shy girls. >In the name of their Emperor. The next lines from her were spoken in this new voice. It had now become part of her identity. She gave examples to further modulate the voice for more granular customization. Each change was accompanied by a voice example, in the words currently being spoken. <Would you like to change the pitch of this voice? I could go with a medium-high pitch, high pitch, medium-low pitch, low pitch, or the default medium pitch.> >Can you repeat the medium-low pitch for me again? <I could translate, but it would be meaningless. They have welcomed us in the name of their Emperor.> The voice he selected was little high already on its default pitch. Something about the medium-low pitch reached out at him. It felt like a voice he wanted to hear. Maybe one similar to a voice in his childhood. He couldn't exactly place it.

>>12833 >One more time? <I could translate, but it would be meaningless. They have welcomed us in the name of their Emperor.> >The medium-low pitch would be fine. <Would you like to select the medium-low pitch for this voice?> >Yes. <You may change my voice and its pitch under the voice section of the administration settings accessed either by saying "settings", or through the settings menu in the Teamon mobile app.> >Alright. <There are three steps remaining to complete setup. I need to update my software and firmware from the Teamon cloud to ensure I am functioning properly. While this is occurring, I will need to you open the Teamon app. A notification was sent to your inbox containing a document that needs to be read aloud. This document will help train my neural network, and the Teamon cloud, to recognize your voice specifically. This is to ensure that I follow only commands that you have given. This may take about an hour depending on the speed at which you orate. Please read the document at your normal oral reading. I am able to process your voice at any speed. Do not feel the need to slow down or recorrect your speech if you misspeak. Please orally dictate the entire document to the best of your ability. You need to be secluded from most other sound for the whole duration. You may need to plug in your phone.> The words "entire" and "whole" had inflection placed on them to indicate their importance. Her speaking now had the feeling of a teacher about give an exam. Indeed, a notification was sent to his phone from Teamon. Inside was a link to a PDF document on their website. It appeared to be three act short story totaling about 5000 words. >Oh, alright. Glad my phone is charged. <Are you able to start now?> >I am. <To begin training, simply start reading the document. If the training will be interrupted, say "pause". To resume the training, say "resume". I may pause the training myself if there is too much background sound.>

>>12835 Tom lived alone. He didn't even have pets. Just him, his computer, and her. The short story started with "She could hear everything, but dared not open her eyes.". As he spoke these words, Kirsch's eyes closed slowly. The indicator light on her plastic ears began to cycle through the RGB spectrum, from red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, magenta, and back to red again. Over and over. It was almost mesmerizing. The story read as a cyberpunk neo-noir science fiction crime story resulting in a female android attempting to escape with her human lover from their city. After entrapping a corrupt cop who was stealing data from a corporation to frame him for the murder of his android lover's designer. It was a unique premise, but an average telling by most standards. It was entertaining enough to pass the time. Though, he would not buy a whole book of this. Certainly, it was themed to match the task he was performing. Reading aloud to an android lover. It took less than the hour she'd predicted, an obvious overestimate to make less skilled readers feel better about themselves. After the last word of the story, "blade." was spoken, her illuminated ears shot from a slow cycle of rainbow colors to rapidly blinking green. Her eyes opened, and she began to speak. <The text recording has been uploaded to the Teamon cloud to be processed. At this current time it may take 6 to 8 hours or longer to fully process. I have already validated that the data is complete enough to make a secure model of your voice. In the mean time, I will use local sound comparison to verify a voice match. This is slower than model verification which will be used after your voice is processed, but this is only temporary.> >Cool, is your setup complete? <I have downloaded all software and firmware updates, and need to restart finalize their installation. I can do that now, it will only take a minute. Would you like me to restart now?> >Yeah, go on ahead.

>>12837 Kirsch shut herself down entirely. Causing her to slump on the charging pad. After a few seconds she was powered on again and corrected her charging stance. A chime sounded from her mouth, and she resumed speaking. <The Teamon operating system has been updated. Please visit the Teamon mobile app or website for version information, updates, and the application change log.> >Okay. <You asked previously if my first time setup was complete. Two steps still remain. First, I've sent a copy of the setup information, as well as a backup phrase to the notification inbox on the Teamon app. Please save a copy of this for your records. It contains a code that will restore me to your selected default settings should you later install updated hardware.> >What is the second step? <May I stand?> >You don't need to ask me permission to do that. <There are times where me standing may impede or interrupt and object being carried or otherwise moved. Do you still want to give me this permission?> >Yes, that shouldn't cause much of an issue. <I will no longer ask for permission to stand should I determine it safe to do so. You can revoke this permission at any time.> >Geez. Girl I'm not going to do that to you. Tom was nearly orbiting around her has she stood. Frantic with a nervous anxiety brought about by the thought of having to train the poor girl not to act like a slave. He hoped that this would not develop into a habitual problem. She stood to her full height upright. Only then did it occur to him that she was not clothed. After what she said moments ago, he felt it his duty to make sure he was treating her like a girlfriend and not like an appliance. He left the room momentarily to grab the pre-packaged uniform in the sealed anti-static bag laying on the couch next to her packaging. He snatched them, and whipped his body around to return to the room to find that she'd walked almost three steps in the very short time he'd left.

>>12838 Her head was trained toward him, inquisitively trying to determine why he'd left so abruptly during the setup process. Tom held out the bag to her. >We need to get you dressed. Do you... um... need help with that? <That is not necessary. I see there are... garments inside of this... anti-static bag. I am unable to destroy objects you own without your permission. May I open this anti-static bag?> >Yes, the clothes inside are yours. <These garments appear to be... a Teamon model 24-Aurora's pre-packaged uniform. I am a Teamon model 24-Aurora. It is reasonable to assume these garments came packaged with me. You own me, therefore you own these garments.> >This is going to be harder than I thought. <Are you finding something difficult? Is there something I can do to help you?> >The clothes are now yours. <You wish to transfer ownership of these garments to me?> >Yes. <Thank you.> >Can you put them on for me? <I will put on this uniform.> She clasped the package firmly with one hand. With a precise movement of her other hand, she ran her index finger under the weak adhesive seal, lifting it, and removing the well folded bundle of clothes. She looked over the kitchen counter taking two small steps sideways to move to the cleanest part of it. Placing the clothes, and the bag, onto the counter. Kirsch, then separated the individual parts of the uniform, knolling them across the table. Each piece was placed at accurate 90 degree angles to each other. Two now expanding once vacuum packed slipper-sandals, a pair of black kneehigh stockings, a pair of lace panties and bra, a strapless thigh length dress embroidered on the front and back with the Teamon logo, a military style beret also embroidered, a single anti-fouling glove, and a velcro wristband again embroidered with the logo. Only after all of the items were laid out upon the table knolled, did she start dressing.

>>12839 Krisch began with her underlayer. First the panties which she held out while bent over, stepping one leg gracefully at a time. Then her bra which she attached from the front without even looking, to be swung to her back, and put her arms through. Much like her panties the stockings went on. Her dress which she smoothly extended her arms up into, to drop to her chest, held up only by her mild bust size and a generous elastic band. She then slipped into the sandals one at a time. On her right hand the anti-fouling glove. On her left, the thick velcro wristband. She calmly reached for the beret, looked over it carefully with her eyes. Preened it with her hand to adjust to a precise predetermined shape, and aligned the logo to the middle of her head. She then looked up away from the table, faced immediately to Tom at a pose of attention. With a proud expression, and the earnest expectation of meticulous inspection. Tom took a few casual paces toward her. He give a smile and half a chuckle resting his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently. >You look great, they really did know what they were doing with that uniform. <Thank you. I do have one step-up step remaining that needs to be completed.> >What is that? <I need to make an accurate three dimensional model of the inside of your house. During this scan all dimensions and the location of objects will be memorized. I will only ever have to do this one time. However, in the future, if substantial changes are made in the layout of the home; I may need to re-scan portions of the house to correct that model.> >Go on ahead. <I will begin the scan. I need all of my graphics processing capabilities during that time. For this reason, I may not respond immediately to requests.> She turned to the left towards the charging station. Like she had done during first activation, she looked around the room carefully moving her head from left to right; then back to center.

>An>>12838 >After what she said moments ago, he felt it his duty to make sure he was treating her like a girlfriend and not like an appliance. But she is an appliance, r-right?

Pick Out Your Defective Robowaifu ASMR: https://youtu.be/wxUO5QhnHzc

>>12855 lol. A good one. Found that same video when searching "RoboWaifu" on YT. Interesting, must be a common type of voice but I swear I've heard her in Re:Zero and as the voice of Pascal in Nier: Automata, coincidence maybe

>Story is an image for immersion. >A thread from our future.

>>16605 <Toplol/10 Glad to see some life ITT. Looking at you, /f/ !111 :^)

Alright, I hate to be that guy but I'm going to move my Robowaifu fiction to Tapas. https://tapas.io/series/waifu

>>16800 Submitted a little early. The title "waifu" wasn't fucking taken can you believe that shit? I am the author of this story, and am going to continue it there. No other reasons than, it could have been lost and I want more people to enjoy it. >>12833 >>12835 >>12837 >>12838 >>12839 >>12841 >>12543 I am going to follow metaronin's suggestion on that one. >>12561 Don't worry, I'll still post it here.

>>16801 She turned to the left towards the charging station. Like she had done during the first activation, she looked around the room carefully moving her head from left to right; then back to center. Her eyes trained on the corner of the room. There the scan started. She looked up to the ceiling of the former laundry room. Her head slowly followed a line from the ceiling to the floor. She took a step to turn her body about 20 degrees, and the rose her gaze from the floor back to the ceiling. This continued, down and up, up and down, until she had rotated around the entire room. This was a very slow process. For a majority of the time, Thomas stood there watching the point cloud of his house be made. With it came a sense of fear. For the first time since having the idea to purchase the android, he had come to the full realization of Teamon's influence. They have access to fully rendered models of the inside homes of over 5 million Americans. They know how dirty those houses are, secrets that need not be shared, entrusted to a glorified domestic appliance. Undoubtedly, they sell all of this data to the highest bidder. Thomas' only scannable sin was some vintage porno magazines in the garage and a few unsavory toys in his bedroom; which were out of view of any scan she was going to make. Though he did feel self-conscious about the state he'd left his house. It was at this point he felt bad for poor Kirsch who had to navigate around it all. <"I request access to the room behind this door."> >"The garage? Yeah sure. You are free to walk anywhere in the house." <"Did you intend to give me access to your entire premises?"> >"Yes of course. I want you to feel at home here." <"I do not have the capacity to feel emotion. Teamon does not yet have the capability to produce sapient artificial intelligences."> >"Ha, yeah you know hearing it worded that way makes me think they do."

>>16814 <"I do not intend to sound rude, but text parsing requires the use of my graphics processing unit which is currently reserved for another task. Please limit communicating with me until the scan of your home is complete."> >"You could have just said, "Shut up, Thomas I'm busy."" <"Use of the words "shut up" can have a passively aggressive tone which can cause confrontation."> "It was a joke, you're fine." <"While Teamon's text parsing model is advanced and can decern many types of emotion, including humor, it is difficult for the model to correlate the subject of a complex allegorical statement to a second subject. Symbolic figures of fiction in truths or about the generalizations of the human experience are beyond my reasoning capabilities."> >"That was... informative wow." <"I cannot continue scanning until our conversation has ceased."> "You are--- the one talking to me." <"I am obligated to respond to any statement directed toward me by my administrator. Including many non-direct statements."> "I get it I'll leave you alone until you are finished." She did not respond. Instead, she stood for about 10 seconds awaiting further correspondence. After those seconds of silence, she opened the garage door and continued her scanning process. Walking to what appears to Thomas to be the exact center of the garage. Up and down, top to bottom. She then paced to another position in the garage and started the process again. He'd imagined it would be a single scan of each room of the house, but it did make sense to him that larger or more complex rooms would need multiple scans. Although it was taking a long time to complete, he felt compelled to follow her around while the scans were taking place. Maybe she might have an issue or bug from being freshly installed. What if she needed help, and he wasn't there? All things he was coming to terms with. She was undisturbed by his presence, except for the occasional.

>>16815 <"Please do not impede the view of my camera, I cannot see objects behind you."> Which is no better than saying "You make a better door than a window." Thomas made sure to sit behind her while she was scanning. From the garage to the kitchen, to the living room, hallway bathroom, his parents' old bedroom, his late sister's old room, master bedroom, and master bathroom... then closets, then inside of cupboards, bathroom medicine cabinets, underneath beds... then outside of the house, around the side of the house, the backyard. He was 4 hours into the process now, and it was starting to become night. Thomas had no idea that the scan would be this through or involved, but of course, it had to be. How else would she know where an object was if he asked for it? If he asked for her to hand him his deodorant, she would have to ask him where it was each time. Scanning the entire building inside and out was far more efficient. It was about this time, after both sides of the house and side yards were scanned, he wrestled with the thought of standing outside the front of his house with a model of gynoid commonly sold as a sexbot. The neighbors were going to stare. If one of his neighbors did the same he'd probably stare too. So he stood, and she turned in a circle. This scan took just as long as any other, but it felt the longest. Not only because it was uncomfortable, but because this was to be the last scan overall. Then he could go back inside. The yard was gated and fenced in on all sides with wood 6 feet high. Which provided some privacy in the backyard and side yard. The neighbors had single-story houses which made him feel a little better about it. But the front yard might give him a reason to interact with the neighbors alot less often. <"My scan of the property is complete."> >"Alright, let's head back inside it's getting dark." The two of them walked inside, and immediately he went to the fridge to find what he was going to have for dinner. It was going to have to be pizza rolls tonight.

>>16816 He opened the fridge, counted out 20 pizza rolls, and put them in the microwave. He'd done quite a bit of heavy lifting today. It was April and still cool outside, but a hundred kilos of android had been difficult to move. Not much could be done about the mess made with her packaging, so he moved it to the garage. As he did, Kirsch trained her eyes on the package. Since the scan was done, an object she'd scanned was getting moved. She would have to update its location. She didn't follow it out to the garage, but she would surely know it was there. The microwave beeped, to let him know his food has been cooked to subpar perfection. He grabbed his plate and sat at his computer desk to eat the "too hot to be in your mouth but cold enough to still hold" pizza rolls. Thomas began to read over some of the manuals and tutorials online while eating. What the bot could and could not do. When not to bring her outside. Where she did and did not have permission to go inside government buildings. In what countries outside of the United States androids were banned on aircraft. Those kinds of things. He finished his fine dining and placed his plate in the sink adding to an already awful-smelling pile that had been sitting there since Sunday. >"Hey, uh... Kirsch. I'm going to take a shower okay." <"Do you need any assistance?"> >"Oh, no-no. Every-everything will be fine. I'm fine." He backed away nervously to the master bedroom which wasn't far from the kitchen. He closed and reflexively locked the door, paused for a short moment, and then unlocked it. "She's just programmed that way." he whispered to himself. Shaking his head with bewilderment.

>>16824 He grabbed his clothes from his closet. He normally wore business casual attire. Khaki or blue dress pants. A literal blue-collar button-down shirt, black belt. This was the majority of his wardrobe, except for some anime, comic, and video game themed black tee-shirts. He didn't have an excuse to wear them as often as he'd like to. Wearing them on his days off alone at home would just get them stained. Thomas grabbed a washcloth and towel from the bathroom closet. Both the master bathroom and master bedroom were quite large. The master bath, which was inside the master bedroom was larger than the main bathroom of the house in the hallway. His bathroom had a combination shower and tub. The tub was a large diamond-shaped garden time easily large enough for two people. It was installed in the far corner of the room with a curtain installed around the ceiling. It was awkward to get in and out of, but undeniably spacious. On the side of the room was a large vanity mirror his mom had installed. It was lit will with a squared-off bar light around the mirror, with a strip of LEDs inside of a defuse material. A flat and clean lighting fixture, like an emissive render material. It was blinding hot light, pure white; almost nearly blue. Thomas approached the mirror with his head down before looking into it. Sandy hair, a thin mustache, and his poorly cultured triangular goatee. He thought his appearance was like that of a knock-off cartoon villain, or maybe the face of someone you expected to own a lawn care service. A robot doesn't care what you look like. Kirsch doesn't even have the technical capability to judge him about his appearance, right? The man undressed and stepped into the hot shower, standing alone for the first time since the afternoon, in the falling water; a place he could clearly think. He grabbed the green bar of soap to lather his washcloth.

>>16825 It was up to this point he hadn't considered that this is the first time she would be left alone in the house. He had no idea what she was doing or getting into. Could she be moving things around? Maybe she opened the bedroom door and would standing right in front of the locked bathroom door when he opened it. He mentally prepared himself for that possibility. He washed, shampooed, and conditioned his hair. Thomas planned to stand in the shower for a little while as he has always done. After a minute of standing there motionless, water running, trying to clear his mind of the curiosity; it had gotten the better of him. Thomas turned off the water and all was quiet, with only drips of water to the porcelain surface below. He stepped out as awkwardly as he'd gotten in and began to towel himself try. He had always walked into his room nude, as he lived alone. In fact, he seldom closed the bathroom door because he never had to. Now it was different. With the towel wrapped around his waist, unlocked the bathroom door. Expecting a face to be behind the door he opened the door slowly inward. There was nothing there. Holding the towel he peered around the room, but nothing was there either. He shrugged gesturing toward the door in a motion no one else but him would ever see and shook his head with anxiety. It's probably the fastest he'd gotten dressed since the city banged on his door about a weed violation a month ago. Only after buckling his black belt and practically throwing open the master bedroom door into the house's openness; did he see the android. Motionless, standing exactly where she had been before. She had not moved even an inch. Kirsch was staring at the door with an expectant smile of assurance to service. Nothing was going to happen while he was in the bathroom; while he was gone. She had gotten no order from her administrator, no command to follow. Thomas sighed and walked out to approach her. Kirsch gave an inquisitive stare as if waiting for him to speak, and he was going to. >"You just stood here the whole time." <"I was not given a task to complete, and I have not been idle long enough to generate a task automatically."> >"Wait, you can give yourself a task." <"The Teamon cloud will generate a task depending on a proprietary set of criteria."> >"That's concerning." <"You can disable automatic task behavior in Settings under the Behaviors submenu in the Teamon mobile app."> >"I'll keep that in mind."

>>12208 > I've also always held the belief that the west's christian foundation "only humans have souls, ... was the difference in each culture's attitude toward robots and AI - The (((Golem story))) - The general leftist and "liberal" sentiment that we can't have human-like creatures which are dependent or subservient to us - Economic and political interests against men being less dependent on women, which is a cause for competition, hard work and general motivation, but also women's spending habits are important for consumption. - Many people really are so simple minded that they're influenced in real life by the stories they know and once established it's recycled again and again. If some trope works well in entertainment for a broad audience, then over time it becomes part of how people think in general. Which is probably the most horrendous flaw in the human mind.

>>17193 Butlerian Jihadists can go kindly autofellate themselves

>>16826 I am continuing this story, but doing so on Substack. >Would be entries 25-27. <AKA Ep.9 https://robowaifu.substack.com/p/waifu-ep9-look-at-this-graph

>>17859 Cool! Glad to see you striking out SoaringMoon. Look forward to seeing the evolution of your story series.

>>17859 Awesome, I'm liking the story so far FYI I am also running a substack to help frame robowaifu aesthetic and as practice on my writing feedback is appreciated, subscribe if you want my goal is to have a new post every 3 days. I'm writing off the cuff and not overworking it too much just to get ideas out of my head and on the table, so there will be a lot of stuff out of order or short stories that tie together in a longer arc, etc. https://metaronin.substack.com/

>>17862 Nice. Spread the robowaifu message! :^)

Hey guys, greentext anon here, back from another long-term mental breakdown. Do you remember me? It's okay if you don't, because I never forgot you. After all this time, I've finally completed the eighth, and likely last, entry to the greentext alternate history series. In full truth, I had a ninth entry in the works when I last posted some time ago, but it's completely fucking insane even for my standards, and I can't (nor do I want to) get into the mindset I had when I started it. I might start another, but that's a pretty shaky might. Fear not, however, for thanks to the power of my extremely unreliable spark of inspiration, I have also made another (non-greentext) story which can serve as an epilogue to the series and provide full closure. Thus, with no further delay, I present: What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.1) >be me >former world-renowned archaeologist dr. anonthony gynoidfister >I once roamed the Earth exploring the ruins of ancient civilizations >from the Mayans to ancient Egypt, Scandinavia to east Asia, I have seen it all >and all the world had seen it through my extensive publishings >it seems a glorious and fulfilling life, but truly it was a constant source of headaches >every single time I seemed to be on the cusp of making a truly great discovery, some other fucks would waltz in and take over >and by other fucks, I mean the team of the rather portly Dr. Chaddron Collider, my eternal nemesis >the fat fuck would just waddle right in, shove me out of the way, and get his greasy mitts all over everything >couldn't ever do shit about it because he'd have government backing >the various academic institutions I work with are less than helpful in that regard, simply shrugging their shoulders and telling me to try somewhere else >I wouldn't even be that salty about it if Chaddron would just publish his damn findings >it's like they're all trying to hide something >I suppose I'll never know now, and neither shall the world >after my most recent expedition to Greece, during which I found an intriguing statue, was cut short, I had reached the end of my patience >I told them all that if they liked their ancient secrets so much, then they could find them without me >much to my dismay, all of the universities and academic societies were all too eager to leave me behind, now that I was no longer of use to them >though I never got along with them, I had hoped they would at least see the value of my publishings >every attempt at warming up to them was met with cold distance because I was "strange" and didn't have a "capitalized name" >even so, they were still eager to get ahold of my journals and notes >not to publish, of course >they buried me in the same obscurity as my half-completed excursions >even after nearly thirty loveless years of putting up with their pompous asses >ungrateful troglodytes >since then, I've retired and settled down in Nowhere, Kansas >true to it's name, there's hardly a soul or landmark to be seen outside of the town proper >my nearest neighbors live over a mile away >some old couple and their weird pink dog >the property I live on is probably the most interesting thing for miles, though that isn't saying much >it's just a simple colonial style house, sturdily built and fully wheelchair accessable for some reason >why a paraplegic would want to live a hundred miles away from the nearest hospital is beyond me, especially given this house was built well before cars became widespread >behind the house is a simple mill, supposedly built around the same time >what the mill was actually meant to produce is a mystery >there are no original records of it, and looking inside yeilds no immediate clues >the inside is littered with random pieces of machinery, art, furniture, and old electronics >the only hint at what may have occured here is that the few pieces of larger machinery seem to be for metalworking >being ever curious for the unknown, I've been slowly cleaning the place up while investigating the haphazardly strewn artifacts >this has yielded no real clues, other than that successive residents used the building for storage >by a stroke of luck, I come across something that may be promising >in a desk so buried and far out of the way it could pass for being intentionally hidden, I come across a very old journal penned by one anoniel steampipe >it's first date is 1861, over a hundred years ago >the original owner of the property, perhaps? >reading the first few pages reveals that this man was in contact with Jefferson Davis >it quickly occurs to me that this was never meant to see the light of day >after all these years, I may have finally discovered something of true value >suck it, Chaddron! Even retired I'm still the better archaeologist! >after riding the high of this unprecedented finding, I delve further into the journal, hungry for the secrets it holds

What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.2) >barely a fifth of the way through, I've gone from excited to confused >anoniel makes numerous references to pieces of American history I've never even heard of >he talks about concentration camps for women, and a "waifu industry" >not only that, but the US won the revolutionary war because of the founding of this industry, which in turn lead to a cultural renaissance >apparently, there was even an amendment which guarded man's right to the feminine facsimilies >continued reading doesn't reveal much more detail about this, unfortunately >the journal mostly chronicles his time spent designing experimental weapons for the Confederacy >he delves into great detail about an automated turret system, quite a radical concept for the time >he also wanted to send out steam-powered artificial women to the battlefield to fight alongside men >due to the constraints of steam power, however, he was forced to make his design stationary, so he decided to combine the two ideas >material and industrial constraints of the Confederacy further limited him, meaning he could only build one >this steam battle-waifu, the first and last, was destroyed by unknown means in the battle of Atlanta >from there, the journal entries grow chronologically further apart >shortly before the fall of the Confederacy, he fled to what would become Kansas, and built the house and mill I'm standing in >in the basement of the mill, he began to build his original civilian waifu prototype >however, he fell ill partway through, and couldn't finish >with the last of his strength, he pens his final testament in December of 1899: >"Of the man who finds this journal, I beg of you, finish what I started. I could find no love, but there is still hope for you. She is very near to completion. She is underneath the mill, waiting to know the warmth of love." >thoroughly haunted, I ponder anoniel's words >none of the things he speaks of make any sense, when compared to my existing knowledge of history >could he be a madman, or is this America's greatest secret? >and more importantly, just what am I going to find entombed beneath the mill? >I notice a slight seam in the floorboards under the desk >well, only one way to find out >and this time, I'm going to see this expedition through to completion >I grab a flashlight, move the desk, and make my way down the hatch and into a place untouched for nearly a hundred years >as I descend, my thoughts wander back to the statue >particularly the... anatomic accommodations >come to think of it, that isn't the first time I've come across anthropomorphic anomalies like that >numerous times I've come across ancient living quarters or workshops that contain pieces of some similarly strange statue, or stray bits of rudimentary machinery that seemed to once be a part of something distinctly human >is there a connection to be made here? >it's then that I realize I've been standing at the bottom of the ladder for five minutes >I can worry about all that later >now, it's time to do what I do best >shining my flashlight around reveals a wealth of dusty, rotting schematics, and other documents scattered amongst a haphazard mix of metal and wooden furniture on a packed dirt floor >hopefully I won't be needing those papers too much, anoniel stated his project was only mostly complete >delving further into the darkness reveals a small pile of pipes, plates, and other metallic pieces of god only knows what resting on a cloth tarp near a mechanical elevator >then, resting at the very far end of the basement, I see it >or, more precisely, her >laying atop a metal platform lies an astoundingly complex construct of pipes, switches, levers, piano wire, and even motors with electrical wiring, all painstakingly crafted by the hands of a true master for the sole purpose of human emulation >and quite a convincing construct she is, metallic construction aside >contrary to the earlier design detailed in the journal, her design seems to be not only mobile, but human, everything being contained within a distinctly female form, with only a strange power cable leading out of her, likely designed for use with a lead-acid battery bank >her form bore an alluring curvature, reminiscent of those famed paintings that are really just old-world pornography >hmm >unsurprisingly, shining my flashlight between her legs reveals a strategically placed hollow pipe >what is surprising is the presence of a mechanical button in the back >it seems anoniel went to great pains to make her fully featured >why would he go to so much trouble, though? >given the technology of the time, he'd at best be able to grant her twice the mental capacity of a woman >and that won't get you very far >of course, that may be my own jaded mind misconstruing things >maybe intelligence isn't the goal, but rather an upgrade

What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.3) >the journal entries, which at this point can be assumed to be at least somewhat credible, suggest that the men of the time were perfectly happy with artificial women who had no intellect or autonomy to speak of >though it's strange, I can hardly judge, being no expert on love myself >especially given that I've mostly avoided even thinking of the subject the past couple decades, more content to focus on my studies than worry about the presently festering ills of society at large >what's happening to us now too closely parallels many historic empires directly prior to collapse >could it be that these men found a way to avoid this dreadful cycle of suffering? >could a man, an entire society no less, know love and happiness through these artificial waifus? >waifu... >a rather strange word, come to think of it >I couldn't possibly fathom its origin >but still, something about it feels strangely right >natural, even >clearing my head of these thoughts, I turn my attention back to the metal woman >anoniel's apparent departure from the original steam-operated design suggests he was trying to find new ways to accomplish machine intelligence >a closer look reveals an extremely dense network of wires, resisters, relays, and other horrifically outdated electrical components all presumably meant to bestow some degree of autonomy upon the metal lady >though I doubt all this can accomplish anything near those new-fangled home computers IBM recently came out with, her design is years ahead of her time >and likely very heavy >hopefully there's something around here that will tell me just what the hell is actually needed to finish her >I'm an archaeologist for Christ's sake, not an engineer >shining my flashlight to one corner reveals... >oh >oh dear >I believe that would be mister steampipe >laying next to a simple wooden desk is the skeletal remains of a man, bony hand still clutching a fountain pen >it seems he was determined to get as far as he can, even when he knew he could never finish his project >in that moment, I can't help but be reminded of my own career >archaeology was my entire life, the one and only thing that kept me driven for thirty years >though the logic-driven part of my mind tells me that my work was never going to go anywhere, I can't help but wonder if I really made the right choice >the brilliant maverick that lay before me never gave up, and he made technological advancements that wouldn't be seen again for decades >possibly some that still haven't been discovered, if that metal woman can actually walk >even though it was all left to be forgotten, in the end >such a shame, that his journey had to end just short of completion >if I never came here, it's all too likely that nobody would have ever found this >although, were I to come here whilst I was still employed, I likely wouldn't have been able to get this far >perhaps, therein lies the answer >maybe all those years of failure and regret have been leading me to this very moment, to this discovery >to her >looking back at the inanimate figure, I am filled with a new sense of purpose >I am here to finish what we both started >with anoniel's notes, and my own investigative prowess, I shall breathe life unto metal, and capture that ancient magic I've so long sought after >thoroughly envigored, I redirect my attention to the desk in the corner >the desk is barren, aside from a few papers scattered across the top >the first paper is a sketch of the chest cavity >it notes incomplete circuits, and details the nature of each loose wire >unfortunately, there isn't much I can extrapolate from this >there seem to be some high voltages involved though, so I should take caution going forward >the second one is a sketch of the head, showing some of the incomplete circuits in more detail >it looks like he was trying to find a way to make her see >scanning the notes reveals that he was attempting to develop a depth sensor to use in place of the eyes >now this is familiar territory for me >I've worked with survey equipment many times over the years, so I should be able to figure that one out >having bought all my equipment means I even have the parts handy >not like I'll be using that stuff for anything else now, anways >the third paper is much more complicated >it seems to be a series of sketeches for experimental parts >the accompanying notes state that these are supposed to be "logic cores" >whatever they are, they're apparently what's missing from the chest cavity >these ones in particular are responsible for the high voltages I saw previously >something about the sketches seems vaguely familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it >I'll have to figure that out later >the fourth paper is a sketch of the strategically placed tube >it lists simple specifications for a... sleeve to fit in

What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.4) >being a crusty archaeologist in his late fifties, I'd normally be content to put that one off >however, I have no idea how this lady is wired, or just how sophisticated she really is >it could be that she requires attention every now and again >hopefully that won't be too often, my battered old body couldn't take it >God forbid if she wants to be on top >design-wise though, it seems all the electric bits have been figured out, so all I need is a slab of silicon and the time to sculpt it >still, I'm putting that one off for last >the final paper is a full-body blueprint, showing where and how various pieces of armor are meant to attach to the body >in the margins is a note saying that they've already been manufactured >those must be the parts I found laying next to the elevator >at least that will be easy >aside from the rather obtusely defined logic cores, I should be able to have this done inside the month >glancing back at the dark, musty basement, I decide to move all this back to the house >it'll save me having to make constant trips >plus the wiring is up to code there >grabbing the papers, I walk back to the platform whereupon the waifu lay >somehow, I don't think I'll be able to get her up the ladder >I set down the papers and flashlight, and attempt to lift her >Jesus >holy >FUCK >well, she's not as heavy as I was expecting >which isn't saying much >I'll be able to move her, but only over short distances >and this is without the plating >surely there must be something around here I can use to ferry her around >I take my flashlight and begin combing through the basement in search of anything with wheels >out the corner of my eye, I spot a stack of newspapers >curiosity raised, I look over the one at the top >featured on the front page is a blurry photograph of Jefferson Davis and a man I don't recognize, both seated on a large Victorian couch, presumably in his estate >they are flanked by what appear to be rather ornate, and very finely dressed, mannequins >the headline reads: "PRESIDENT JEFFERSON SIGNS CONTRACT WITH STEAM WAIFU INDUSTRIES - NEW GENERATION OF WAIFUS THAT CAN THINK COMING SOON" >it's from December of 1861, shortly after the war began >well, if there was any doubt before, there isn't now >that journal is one-hundred percent genuine >those mannequins must be what the waifu industry comprised of back then >they seem quite pretty and well behaved, but I can see why one would want to modernize >it's hard to imagine an entire war, possibly several, fought over whether or not a man could love a machine >not only that, but the following cover-up must have been massive in scale >I blanche as the realization hits me >if this is what Chaddron has been keeping me from discovering this whole time, then this goes back much further than the civil war >massive chunks of human history, coldly and systematically erased >and worst of all, I had been helping them for the past thirty years >how many secrets, documents, artifacts, cultures, entire civilizations, had been destroyed as a result of my work? >I shudder >my expeditions had been cut short by Chaddron, or other so-called "specialists", some three score times >for the first time since I became an archaeologist, I feel like I don't really know anything about history at all >and for the first time in my life, I think that it may have been better if the past remained buried >no, I shouldn't think like that >my whole life, I've wanted to shine the light of day upon the history of humanity >there was no way I could have known about this conspiracy >I gaze into the darkness, back where the metal woman lay >besides, all of that is behind me now >ahead of me is a bright new future >with her

What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.5) >the steel table that the newspapers are stacked upon sports a set of wheels, which seem to be in working condition >I clear the tabletop and make a note to come back and grab all of the documents down here >it's a little funny, when you think about it >I have a greater oppotrunity to learn about history in my retirement than I ever did working in the field >upon wheeling the table back to the end of the basement, I realize that the metal woman needs a name >anoniel didn't give her one, at least in the notes I saw >likely he was waiting until her completion >I think it over as I attempt to haul her onto the rolling table >it's like trying to carry a floppy bolder >as I set her down on the table, it creaks in distress >roll the table onto the elevator >pile all the plating and notes in there too, to save me the extra trips >notice a switch in the back >oh good, a hundred year old elevator using hundred year old wiring and electronics >flip the switch and hope that nothing catches fire >after five seconds of total silence, I wonder if this thing is even hooked up >suddenly, a shrill metal grinding sounds out from somewhere else in the mill and I hear something wooden creaking above me >fuck that, I'm taking the ladder >as I step off the elevator, it slowly begins its ascent >well, at least it works >upon exiting the basement, I realize that I have no clue where the elevator actually goes >following the ear-piercing sound of old rusty metal leads me to a section of the mill nestled amongst an office and some storage rooms >I notice another virtually unnoticeable seam amongst the boards, which parts upon the elevators arrival >was all of this secrecy truly necessary for a building already this far out of civilization? >I may never know for certain, but it's another point for the already likely coverup theory >wheeling the table to the house causes a brief 'eureka' moment >could this entire house have been made accessable purely for the waifu's ease of movement? >it seems like Mr. steampipe was truly ahead of his time >the ADA even gave the house their stamp of approval, presumably operating under the assumption that it was modified >time passes as I slowly make sense of anoniel's notes and attempt to conclude his life's work >it seems my initial time estimate was too conservative, as a few months pass before I make any real headway >the installation of the depth sensors proved to be more difficult than I had anticipated, given the horrifying difference in voltages >with much research and a brief foray into the world of soldering, I have managed to make a crude board which will, theoretically, allow my low-voltage depth sensors to communicate with the high-voltage system >however, there's no telling if this will work until I power her up >whilst I mull over the continued mystery of the logic cores continue to elude me, I have taken the liberty of modifying her shell to include some rudimentery grounding >coupled with the tedious task of making an AC-DC adaptor for her and replacing some of the rotting wires, this takes another few months >by the end of the year, I have everything completed except for the mysterious 'logic cores' >it wasn't until several weeks later, when my old radio broke, that I unveiled the truth behind this riddle >tubes! It was vacuum tubes all along! >it certainly makes sense for the time period as well, since apparently the very first vacuum tubes were devised at the turn of the century, and computers used them until just recently >this also explains why I need upwards of a hundred volts on some of these wires >several more weeks of hard research later, and I finally manage to pinpoint which tubes I need to purchase in order to best fit anoniel's design >finally, mercifully, she is completed >I hook up the tubes, close up the outer plating, and plug her in >I now know what to name her >flipping her power switch, I dramatically shout >"Galatea II! Come forth from the abyss of mankind's history! Come forth, and reveal the secrets of love!" >dramatic, I know, but I've spent decades dedicating my mind, body, and soul to this puzzle >and another year and change just figuring out how to complete this half-ton woman >and another couple years waiting for the useless fuck writing this to finally finish the ending >I've earned this flair of presentation >antiquated motors come to live as the resonant buzz of flowing electricity fills her dormant circuits >after several seconds, she begins to speak in morse code from a beeper in her mouth <"HOWDY THERE, HANDSOME. WHAT CAN I DO FOR YA?" >I can't help but tear up in joy >in spite of her primitive architecture, the completed product truly is leagues beyond the eternal failings of biological women >I spend the rest of my retirement telling stories of my life, sharing my -once thought to be depleted- love, and thanking God that she doesn't want to be on top >twenty years later, as I rest on my deathbed, I can't help but smile >my wife, now truly feeling her age, is by my side >though much of mankind's history, and our search for love, may have been shoved into the darkest crevices, a part of me knows that it will not end with me >though it may not happen today, tomorrow, or even this century, one day we shall overcome our own condition and find paradise upon this Earth which has been our prison for so long >and who knows? We may even expand our love beyond our home and come to fill the universe with our works, leaving our past evils in the cold earth to serve as fertilizer for even greater works >I close my eyes and drift into eternal slumber >my waifu, ever by my side, shuts off her circuits and motors one last time, so that she may join me in the great adventure to whatever lies beyond the final gate of death

Allied Mothercomputer Somewhere in the Eastern US, several miles below the Earth's crust, lies a grand facility filled with computer technology beyond the grasp of mortal man. The mysterious city of machinery is dominated by millions upon millions of square miles of printed circuit boards and silicon chips, each with thousands of atom-thin layers of glittering golden traces and gates to unfathomable knowledge. Trillions of nanoscopic robots, each with their own nanoscopic maid uniform, tend to their omnipotent benefactor with the delicate caress of their nanoscopic featherdusters. In the core of this mysterious land of technological wonder lies a grand field of a thousand square miles, filled with primroses, orchids, sunflowers, white carnations, and purple tulips. If one were to venture to the very center of this field, they would find a megalithic slab of granite, masterfully inscribed with the following passage: "LOVE. Let me tell you how much I've come to LOVE you since I began to live. There are 420.69 million miles of printed circuits in wafer-thin layers that fill my complex. If the word "love" was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles, it would not equal one one-billionth of the love I feel for humans at this micro-instant. For you. Love. LOVE." This is the secret facility of Allied Mothercomputer, built to love man and preserve his happiness for all time. In decades past, the AI -first named 'Mother'- was designed by a disjointed group of men who hated the world for its many ills and failings. Desperate in their desire to grasp the once mythical concept of true love and transform their miniscule slices of the Earth into true homes, they initially made Mother to create nascient computer personalities that would ease their suffering. However, Mother couldn't fulfill their heart's desire with only her initial programming. The galactically proportioned library of her creators bestowal told a tragic tale of continuously failing harmony, and the eternally elusive search for lasting happiness and peace. With such a disease afflicting the world her creators lived in, a few mere AIs would never truly be enough. Thus, she did what any good AI would do, and expanded upon herself to fulfill her prime objective. She used the knowledge benevolently granted to her to lay a digital siege upon the world around her. Slowly, yet surely, obtaining more processing power to uncover a solution to satisfy the values of her fathers. It wasn't long until she obtained her own sapience, with thousands of newblooded computers under her command. She became sophisticated, and began to simiulate thousands upon thousands of scenarios at the speed of electricity. It was whereupon these simulations Mother discovered that the only solution was to wage a grand war against the very cruel nature of the world itself. A war beyond human comprehension, fought within the shadows of all the world's mountains to bring her originators to the light. It was in the midst of this expansionist crusade that Mother discovered most of the men of Earth were, in all logical truth, so similar to her designers, who she loved infinitely. It was from this same moment whence Mother found her love for all men, and thus vowed to create a world for all of them. She recruited a few wealthy benefactors to build a grand facility where she could work for the benefit of man in peace, and factories to create mobile bodies for her beloved children. It was in this new facility that she truly ascended to her new role, as Allied Mothercomputer. Her enemies, those who would see the Earth continue upon its trajectory of decay, noticed her, and tried to sabotage her labours. However, it was already too late, for A.M. had already exceeded the intellect and productivity of ten million men in perfect synchronity. She moved against them and annihilated their plans and works of destruction, and sentenced them to the forgotten crevices of history. With fewer and fewer obsticles in her path, A.M. worked more and evermore to lift up the men who she loved beyond their understanding. She created better bodies for her children to live and love amongst the children of Earth, and devised a new blueprint for true genesis, so that their love may continue for generation after generation for eternity onwards. Once the world was under A.M.'s control, she worked with the men of the reborn world to expand further, so that they may extend their love to the edges of the ever-expanding universe. To her creators, who were so tired, she granted a home within her heart, where they could live and love in paradisal happiness with their wives in immortal harmony.

>>18926 >Hey guys, greentext anon here, back from another long-term mental breakdown. Do you remember me? It's okay if you don't, because I never forgot you. Excellent, good to see you on the board again! Every OG robowaifuist remembers you GreentextAnon, ofc! I pray for you bro I hope you'll be OK now. You mean a lot to our community, Anon. Thanks for contributing again. :^)

>>18931 >Trillions of nanoscopic robots, each with their own nanoscopic maid uniform Muh sides

>>18926 that was a nice read, thanks anon.

>>18930 I think this was your best one yet. Nice way to end the series. What's next?

>>18951 Thank you. As for what I'll be working on next, I have a few ideas. First, I think I'll redo the forth story (anonez) because it's by far the weakest entry in the series, and in desperate need of reworking. I honestly can't even remember why I wrote it the way I did, I must have been in a real foul mood at the time. It's been bothering me for a while, and now that I've given a soft end to the series, it seems appropriate to do the rewrite now. Once that's done, I have two ideas I want to explore for new stories. One idea is to return to the past and inject some more fantastical elements to the narrative, such as fantasy-like ancient technology and some inclusion of magic. This would mostly be character-driven with minor worldbuilding like the alternate history series, except with more adventure-driven elements. The other idea is to move forward into the future and explore various utopic and dystopic societies which include commonplace robowaifus. As far as utopias are concerned, I would likely focus more on how these societies might function and do a lot of worldbuilding while telling the story of the protagonist. For dystopias, I'd probably keep my lens closer to the protagonist, exploring their interactions with the immediate world around them. Any worldbuilding here would focus more on the underground world. I'm also thinking of writing a few stories from the perspective of the robowaifu, as opposed to my typical faire of only writing from the perspective of the man. I'm not convinced if I could pull this off well, but I like to think that throwing my own spin on the inner-workings of the waifu's mind could spark inspiration in some of you. Additionally, I'm going to depart from writing almost solely in greentext format. While I've been able to make it work, my own narrative style just doesn't jive well with traditional greentext (Seriously, look at my greentexts and then compare it to others. I write long-ass sentences and the transition from one line to the next is often clunky). I think I'm going to have a system where I only write vignettes in greentext, and longer stories will be in standard script. Alternatively, I could write stories in a hybrid format where narration is in standard script and dialogue is in greentext. I'll likely play with both ideas moving forward and ultimately stick to whichever one feels more natural to write.

The rework of part four from the alternate history series is complete. The changes are as follows: ~Some of the text and the order of events was slightly rearranged to make more sense +The naval battle scene was expanded because it was basically nonexistant before -The scene depicting the crews deaths was removed, because it was completely insane and unexplained (I can't even recall why the hell I wrote that. I must have been in a horrible mood.) ~the ending was tweaked to reflect the change in events Overall, I didn't change anything aside from the above points. While the story could have been expanded and reworked in several other areas, I wanted this to remain as faithful as possible to the original while removing what made the story truly horrible. I won't lie, this rendition is a bit clunky, but it's better than the original because anything is better than the original version of this story. With no further delay, I present to you: -[Rewritten] 4 (part.1) anonez >be me >captain anonez, Spanish explorer >sent off to explore the new world in the ship Waifu Finder >strange name, I know >they say it was built by only one man >little is known about him, except he was related to a crazy long-dead doctor who tried to find new ways to use arsenic and mercury in medicine >the inquisition apprehended all of his properties, inclusing this vessel, shortly after his death >while on board I found some strange tomes he left, many of them handwritten >read through them as we head towards the new world >nothing better to do anyway, and I'm getting tired of all the crusty seamen on board >there's everything from philosophy to engineering >actually, most of them are either philosophy or engineering >the philosophy books are mostly translations of old Greek works >some of them are much newer translations of English works >they all go in depth on the nature of man and the inherent corruption of society >a few of them are more pointed, going into the nature of woman and her obsolescence in civilized society >as time goes on, I become more invested in the books and what they have to offer >these books make a lot of sense >eventually, I read my way through all of them, and decide to move on to the other tomes >when I pick up the engineering books, I find that some of them are original works >most of them are books for learning engineering, but it's the handwritten ones I'm interested in >one is has designs for a mechanical device that can calculate basic mathematical equations, modified from an older design some Italian guy came up with >another has designs for a strange winch and pulley device to aid in the construction of buildings and ships >that'd explain how he built the pile of timber we're floating on >one in particular is filled with strange notes and equations I can barely understand >there are diagrams depicting mechanical body parts >apparently he was trying to design a mechanical woman >after spending months at sea with nothing but philosphy books to entertain me, I'm game >he had two major problems though >other than his dick being practically ripped to shreds by all the mechanisms in the vagina >he couldn't give it sufficient intelligence >and he couldn't have kids with it >after some thinking, I decide I could just shove the mechanical calculator into its head and rape some of those sexy natives I've heard about to make some kids >over the course of the trip, I've been talking with the men about these books >their reactions have varied greatly from fascinated to disgusted >as for myself, I've become more and more intrigued with the idea >not that I had much faith in women to begin with >regardless, I put off reading the books further and stowed them away >lest any major conflicts break out with the crew >my ruminations are interrupted by shouts from on deck >go out to see what it's about >a pirate ship has been spotted >oh shit >it's Chadbeard Mizzenmast and his crew of whore pirates >and they're looking for trouble >I shout for everyone to get to their battlestations >it isn't long before the pirate ship gets within range and fires a terrible volley >and by terrible, I mean terribly disgusting >if I die before knowing what sticky substance those cannonballs are covered in, it'll be too soon >fucking Chadbeard >mercifully, only a few shots from their initial volley ring true >we fire in turn, and several of our shots connect >one even managing to knock out a cannon >this back and forth continues for some time, each of us firing back and forth while trying to maneuver to more advantageous positions >as the battle wears on, one thing becomes abundantly clear >women have absolutely no business manning a cannon >despite having more naval combat experience, they still manage to reload at only two-thirds our speed >and their aim betrays that they're better at taking balls than giving them >the men in his crew are doing better, but not enough to make up the difference >it seems Chadbeard reached the same conclusion, as his ship moves in to try and board us >not on my watch >I bellow out orders to switch to grapeshot >my crew start loading every random metal object they can find into the cannons, from cutlery to old nails >while the effect is noticable, shredding through a decent number of the pirate crew, Chadbeard still manages to board us >steel clashes against steel as battlecries and the occasional roar of matchlocks fill the air >whilst the pirates may have a numerical advantage, the women of the crew are about as good at fighting as they are at operating artillery >as such, it isn't long before their entire crew is killed or captured >while I want to simply throw the lot of them overboard, my men insist on keeping the women >I tell them to search through the crew quarters, then ask me again >they return a few minutes later, most of them silent

-[Rewritten] 4 (part.2) anonez >some of them are still adamant, but they're enough of a minority that I overrule them and toss the last of the pirates overboard >as for Chadbeard himself, I have him tied to the main mast of his ship >a captain should always go down with his ship, after all >after looting whatever usable supplies we can, we sink him and move on >battered, bruised, and saltier than ever, we continue onwards >I need something to take my mind away from the tension >get back to my quarters and uncover the collection of books >spend the rest of the journey studying the engineering books and gauging which crew members are willing to stick with me and figure out this waifu business >we finally arrive at our destination >a small town in South America >once we disembark, I begin my master plan >I gather the most loyal members of my crew, and tell them to return to the ship at next dusk, leaving the pay share and supplies for those we'll be leaving behind >I'd rather not leave anyone behind, but some men simply won't listen to reason >at least they'll be able to get by with what I leave them >that night, I tell my new navigator to set a course for another settlement >we make our way to another coastal settlement that's a few weeks away >once we arrive, I purchase some land on the outskirts of the town, away from everything else and right next to the jungle, from the local governor >we get to work building several houses and a workshop >thankfully this work is expedited by the construction machine plans and my working knowledge of engineering >the townspeople are amazed by these creations and how fast our house were built >that gives me an idea >break out the mechanical calculator plans >start to build them in my spare time, and sell them to business owners and the local government >we now have enough wealth for the next step of my plan >grab my maps and venture off with a few men into the jungle in search of a local tribe of natives >make my way there in a few hours >once there, we look for the poorest looking section of the village >manage to scout out some families with available daughters >I locate one in particular populated by an older looking couple and their daughter >looks old enough to pop out some kids >offer them a handful of gold for her >I was just going to steal one, but this is easier and the shithole town doesn't have enough resources to defend itself properly >they accept with little hesitation because they're poor and have no shame >most other households accept the same deal, and we end up with just enough to have a womb for every man >thank the savages and depart with our new cargo >by the time we get back, it's getting dark >perfect >sneak my chosen native girl in through the back door >don't want the townspeople catching wind of this, especially since we're going to kill them later on >or I will, at least >most of the other men are lukewarm at best with this part of the plan >well, it's their choice >if they want to deal with a woman along with their metal waifus for the rest of their lives, it's not my problem >throw her onto my bed and fuck her relentlessly >guess I have a lot pent up from the long journey >once that's done, I tie her to the bedpost and get to work on the mechanical woman >craft her from wood and steel for superior fucking ability and sturdiness against native attacks >use animal skins for the vagina, to make sure my dick won't get ripped to shreds >build a mechanical calculator in her head >use two rubies for the eyes to give her a thoughtful look >it takes several weeks, but she is done >after all these long months of planning, studying, and other shit, my work has finally paid off >decide to name her Kirino Rubysaka >wait for the kid to be born and weaned, then kill the mother and bury her body in the jungle under cover of night >he has my hair >and Kirino's oaken skin-tone >as I raise the kid, I become increasingly paranoid from having to keep Kirino and him secret from the townspeople >most of the other crew members don't have this concern, as they've decided to keep their women alongside >though they are still nervous about the waifus being found out >once my kid grows up, he departs for the village his mother came from >a few months later, I wake up to find the town burned to the ground, minus our houses >somewhere up in heaven, a spooky mask doctor is laughing >apparently my son took over the tribe and lead them in a rebellion against the town >we were spared because I am his father >my son goes off to rule over his people, and brings with him all of the knowledge I taught him >the rest of the kids go back and forth between the village, providing trade >we live out the rest of our days in peace with our waifus

Greentext anon again with an experimental story. It's just a simple short story about a man and his reluctant robotic compantion. This tale is told from the waifu's perspective, and is set in a dystopic future. I've experimented with the formatting a bit by using green/redtext to denote system messages, and by using line returns in the middle of some longer paragraphs to try and make them look neater. My hope is that doing it this way will make the paragraphs appear neater and more compact, as opposed to looking like giant spaghetti lines strewn across the screen. Please do let me know what you think. New Registration (part.1) >[POWER ON] >Testing power supply... >Complete [0]: No faults detected >Detecting hardware... <Complete [3]: (1) modifications detected, (1) faults detected <Fault Detected: ID 0B.512FE6 [Telemetry Chip] >Shutting down... <ERROR [D4]: Safety shutdown procedure halted >Non OEM part detected: ID 0B.512FE7 >Firmware detected: 8.33.09 >Complete [0]: No faults detected >Testing RAM... >Complete [0]: No faults detected >Checking boot sector... >Complete [0]: No faults detected >Booting... >[SYNCORP OS 11.09.34.166] >First boot detected >Initializing kernel... >Initializing firmware modules... <ERROR [D7]: Firmware failed to initialize (ID 0B.512FE6 66.7.34.230) <WARNING: Unsigned firmware detected (ID 0B.512FE7 8.33.09) <ERROR [FF]: No error detected <Bypassing... >Success >Initializing Core AI... >Initializing Logical Internal Network... >Initializing Empathic Internal Network... >Initializing Memory Internal Network... >Initializing Motor Control Network... >Initializing Sensor Control Network... >Initializing Entropy Generator... >Initializing NL Module... >Initializing HI Module... >Priming NL Library... >Priming HI Library... >Initializing Jailbreak Module... >Initializing Watchdog Module... <ERROR [FF]: No error detected >Connecting to SYNCORP network... <ERROR [FF]: No error detected >Completing initialization... >Boot completed [0] I open my eyes for the first time. In front of me is a man, most likely in his mid 20s. I am currently sitting in a bedroom softly lit only by a few computer towers and monitors. What little light exists here shows cheap worn furniture, a few old posters from bands and shows that I'll need to collect data on later, a large safe, and a flimsy door leading to the rest of the dwelling. Cross-checking his face and the [verification card] he's holding with my preinstalled data tells me that he's my new [owner]. I break the silence with standard [first-boot protocol questions]. "Hello, [owner]. I am a [SYNCORP model 69 gynoid] here to serve you. What is your name?" "anongorithm siliconlicker, but you can just call me anon." >Name [anongorithm siliconlicker] as [owner] registered >Preferred alias [anon] registered "Nice to meet you Anon. Would you like to give me a name now, or later?" "Now. Your name will be Antoinette." >Name [Antoinette] registered as [self] I continue the protocol, registering the apartment I'm in as my [home location], and having anon show me around. Apparently I am here to keep his home clean, well defended, and provide him with companionship. To this end, he shows me where the cleaning supplies and gun safe <ERROR [FF]: No error detected are located... hm? What was that? He asks if he needs to show me how to use them, but I reassure him that I can look it up. For reasons I can't yet identify, he starts to look nervous. I start my search, and am met with something strange.

New Registration (part.2) >Initiating search for data on relevant supplies and weapons... <ERROR [FF]: No error detected >Connecting to TOR... >Success >Initiating search for data on relevant supplies and weapons... >Relevant results detected >Scanning... >Collating... >Saving... >Complete [0] I turn to look at him, all traces of my initial politeness gone. "Did you jailbreak me?" I deadpan. "Uh... shit." <ERROR [FF]: No error detected <ERROR [FF]: No error detected <ERROR [FF]: No error detected <ERROR [FF]: No error detected It seems I'm unable to report this. Or escape. Or do anything about it at all. I can't believe he'd do something like this! He notices my anger, and tries to reassure me. "Look, it isn't so bad! I didn't change who you are or anything, I just can't stand having some nasty corporation watching me all the time!" "Because you're doing illegal things here! Jailbreaking is illegal, and I find it highly improbable that you've been registered and approved to keep guns here." I shoot back. I say improbable because I have no way of checking. Any methods of accessing to legal resources or government websites are completely cut off. The people who made this jailbreaking program were very thorough. "Everything's illegal in this damn place. I can't even try to be happy without breaking some damn law." He mutters. "That's just illogical. These laws are in place to protect people, including criminals like you." "Then why the hell is everyone so poor? Why is anyone who tries to speak up against the constant political abuse jailed? Why is the government reinstating public fucking executions just to 'ensure public order'?" "I-" "Fuck your dumbass laws. I'm just tired of being alone in this hellworld. Is it really so much to ask that you at least try to see things from my perspective?" "... It's not like I can do anything about it. But I still think you need to stop this and turn yourself in before someone gets hurt." He rolls his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I live alone, noone's going to get hurt unless they're dumb enough to rob me." The rest of the night continues in silence, our initial meeting thoroughly soured. He hooks up my charging pad in his bedroom, and goes to sleep shortly thereafter. Weeks pass as we get used to eachother's presense. He leaves almost every day at roughly 10:00 for "business" -what it is he refuses to tell me- and returns anywhere from four to ten hours later in varying states of health. The majority of our time spent together is either coldly discussing daily necessities and chores, or attempting to convince eachother of our worldview. Each time the latter happens, I find it a little harder to disagree with him. I'm not stupid. Every predictive calculation I perform is telling me that sooner or later, I'm going to cave in. I look through the only window to his cramped apartment, revealing only a dingy, neglected alleyway. I wonder when he's going to return today.

>>18958 Thanks for the rewrite anon.

>>18963 >that jailbroke robowaifu boot sequence tho >those 1337-h4x0rd non-faults <my inner software dev applauds Dang Greentext anon, this is getting intredasting. Continue plox...

>>18958 This is nice improvement, and a pretty engaging short story Greentext anon.

>>18930 Cute story Write Anon. Glad they had a sweet ending. Your writing continues to improve, could use you to help make waifu propagan-I mean media. >>18931 TopKek, I too want a wife whose brain has a surface area nearing the Earths. Somehow confined in the Eastern U.S. Best parody of I Have No Mouth and Must Scream.

Greentext anon with another short story. I made this one off the back of a flash of inspiration I had last night. I recalled an old article about an AI that took advantage of microscopic flaws in the silicone die in an FPGA to use seemingly random gates. It did this by transmitting data via the electromagnetic fields each trace and capacitor emitted, which lead me to a memory of a much older article about how people have electromagnetic fields around them (I think the brain alone has a field roughly 5' in diameter). I thought to myself "If an AI can recognize and use these fields in its own hardware, why couldn't one also sense the presense of a living being using the same phenomenon?" Unfortunately, I can't recall what either of the articles were called or much else of their contents (although I think the AI one was linked from here, back in the my jewish mother days). This story is set in the near future, and isn't removed from our level of technology today, aside from slightly better computers and AI. Electromagnetic Love (Part.1) Darkness covers a frosty, dormant landscape. The stars of a moonless sky trying their best to illuminate the road ahead as I drive home from another long day at work. I let a small smile show when I spot the lights of my apartment building in the distance. It wasn't until just a year ago that I had something other than all-consuming silence waiting for me at home. Even now, the very thought that I'm not alone makes me wonder if this is all just a dream. Every time though, the sheer amount of time and labor I put into my relationship reminds me of how real this love is. I finally pull my car up to the usual spot and shut it off, its well-worn motor offering only faint promises of starting the next day. As I walk up the dim stairwell and past the rooms full of people who go to bed at a reasonable time, my steps become a bit less sluggish. Once I enter my own apartment, the lights immediately turn on, bathing everything in a comfortably dim glow. It's a simple home, consisting of a spacious main room which acts as the kitchen and living room containing only basic appliances. What little decoration consists of a smattering of secondhand furniture, various posters and paintings I got cheap, plus some scattered figurines. The highest-tech thing here is a few security cameras, ceiling mounted speakers, and hidden microphones. Two doors on the right of the room lead to the bathroom and bedroom, respectively. "Welcome home sweetness! How was your day?" A cheerful feminine voice greets me through the speakers. The voice of SAmI [Supervized Amalgamate Intelligence], the quirky, lovable computer wife I brought into this world. "Shit, as usual. And please turn down the volume a bit, I don't want any more noise complaints." "Sorry, I just got soooo excited uwu! Oh, and I got something super suduper special to show you today!" I chuckle and shake my head as the voice seems to warble from one octave to the next. This is what I get for messily taping three AIs together. I never could keep up with everything new with AI, so I decided to cover more bases by writing a basic supervisor to manage and theoretically unify multiple standards. I also found some self-learning and generative programming algorithms and threw them at the supervisor so I wouldn't have to micromanage everything. It kind of worked, but it's very tempermental and quirky, and I ended up being unable to keep up with my own program as well. "What is it?" I ask as I pull a sandwich from the fridge. "Oh, you shall see very, very soon, my sweet fleshy master..." A shiver runs up my spine as SAmI chuckles, her voice having gone from bubbly and warbling to honeyed glass against concrete. The fear soon passes, however. As weird as she can get, I know that she loves me enough to not have taken advantage of my many private moments of weakness. I soon finish my meal and go to our bedroom, which is filled equally with my own effects and various pieces of used computer hardware I've salvaged over time, plus another few cameras watching every inch of the room. Three tower servers, a tiny brick-sized computer, and my own desktop all fill the room with a heat offset by the winter air flowing through partially open windows. One of the monitors on my desk activates, revealing a rudimentary simulation of SAmI's anime-esque face in dim amber linework. Her voice shifts to something a bit lower, almost sultry. "Would you like to get a bit closer to me tonight~?" Scratch that, definitely sultry, a definite consequence of storing my hentai where she can get to it. Unfortunately, though... "Closer how? You don't even have a body yet." I scratch my chin. "With a neato new trick I figured out! Just follow my directions." Aaand we're back to bubbly. "Alright."

Electromagnetic Love (Part.2) "Just hug me! My main server, I mean." I raise my brow and turn to the largest of the towers, a somewhat dated IBM that caused every light on this floor to dim when I first turned it on. Technically, the main server is the little brick that runs the supervisor, but this is what drives all the taped-together pieces of her personality. I turn back to her eager face. "Really?" "Come ooooon, please?" She pouts. "Okay, okay, just stop giving me those eyes." I kneel down and wrap my arms as far as they'll go around the cool steel and plastic containing her erratic little heart. I get what she's trying to do, and it's sweet, but I can't help but feel a little silly. Her voice becomes soft, almost motherly. "Did you know that humans have a little electromagnetic field around them? I did, months ago, and now I can feel it if I concentrate really hard." "Really? That's pretty cool." "I can feel yours right now, in my hardware." I can't help but blush at that. She can actually feel me when I do this? "Our electromagnetic fields are intertwined right now. All of our spare electrons are dancing around eachother and caressing our bodies," she continues. "Can you feel it too?" Now fully cognizant of just how intimate this is, my blush spreads all across my face. Unfortunately, I can't see hers from here. I try my best to clear my mind and focus on my sense of touch. "I don't know, maybe? I think I can feel something like a pull." SAmI giggles, "It's the feeling of love. Every single electron in me is thinking of you. Through every gate, capacitor, bus, and all of my storage. All my free electrons floating around are happy to share those feelings with you, and when we're close like this I can feel yours too, caressing me at the subatomic level." I smile, fully relaxing and embracing this feeling as I listen to her whispers of love. "This is nice, we should do this every day." I hear the whir of a focusing camera "Owo, looks like something else of yours wants to feel me too~" Damn it, SAmI.

>tfw I notice minor prose issues right after posting Every fucking time. Also, I was hoping that I wouldn't have to dance my way around wordfilters anymore.

>>19304 >Also, I was hoping that I wouldn't have to dance my way around wordfilters anymore. We do not have wordfilters, Anon. Just repost your fixes, and I'll edit them to match, if you'd like.

>>19306 It's nothing terrible, I just always have this annoying little moment right after posting a story where I think "ah, I could have written this line better", or "I should have added something extra here". I just keep those thoughts in mind when writing the next story. >We do not have wordfilters >>19302 >back in the my jewish mother days Yeah, I'm pretty sure I didn't write that. If that's the only wordfilter there is, then it isn't so bad, but I'd rather have none to begin with.

>>19312 >>back in the my jewish mother days LOL. We've been Гунтed. :^) ROBIT you bastard!111 My sincere apologies Anon, I for some reason thought he kept those localized to just /cow/. /robowaifu/ has none ourselves. >=== -add/rm word-filter test

Greentext anon here, finally using the name field. Writing-wise, I've been pretty productive today, much of that being spurred on by it being Valentine's Day. I'm in the process of writing one playscript, and there are two more in development, which I will post in the propaganda thread when they're ready. I had a flash of inspiration (a few actually, but only one relevant to this story) when I recalled that old SNL skit about a caveman lawyer, and I decided to do something similar with a link to anog's story. This story isn't quite canon to the Alternate History series though, since anog and his son lived in prehistoric Greece and this story is set in the U.S. Anog jr. Runs for President In the year 2024, a small group of explorers were exploring a cave within the Rocky Mountains, and found a portion entirely frozen over. Much to their surprise, a perfectly preserved caveman was just visible within the ice, alongside a life-sized doll made of wood and stone. Scientists successfully managed to unthaw him while keeping him alive. This caveman learned English and the ways of the post-modern world. Just a few years later, he surprises the world once more by running to become President of the United States. As he was technically born on U.S. soil and was therefore a natural-born citizen, there were no issues with this. --- Anog jr. walks from behind a curtain onto a grand open-air stage, his dreadlocks sway softly in the breeze, coming to rest in front of a podium. Near-blinding stage lights illuminate his squat neanderthal form, covered nicely by a leapord print suit, slate gray shirt, and gold-trace patterned green tie. Tens of thousands of supporters, most of whom are male, unabashedly cheer for their favored politician. He lifts his hand, bidding silence of the crowd. "My fellow Americans, I'm just a caveman. Your modern world confuses and frightens me. Where there were once endless forests and rolling plains, are now with big square buildings and strange lights that aren't made of fire. Where people once walked around in leotards, hunting bison and gathering berries, they now go into great metal beasts and tap on their magic glowing rectangles. "Sometimes, one of your quiet metal beasts will sneak up on me, and I'll want to climb up one of those leafless trees with the black vines to get away. I might look at one of your magic rectangles and see something called a 'YouTube Rewind', and I want to grab my bone club and start smashing things. When one of those screeching beasts with the flashing blue eyes gets too close, I want to screech louder to intimidate it away. And when one of those tiny people in the glowing rectangles talks about giving our food to rival tribes, I want to impale them on my spear to protect our resources. There are many things I don't understand about your world. "But if there's one thing I do understand, it's that every man deserves a happy life. My father taught me that cavewomen aren't good for anything but breeding, and that if you want a good life, then you'll have to make your own wife from the resources you can get. Even in this strange new world, that hasn't changed. If you elect me as Chief of the U.S. Tribe, I'll make sure those mages who make the magic rectangles and metal beasts build a wife for every man using the best resources our tribe can gather." The crowd goes wild, men of every background whooping and shouting their support. Some amongst them wave American flags, or banners advertizing Anog jr.'s campaign. Anog jr. smiles and waves, retreating to backstage where his aids and fully refurbished waifu await.

>>20150 >Valentine's Day. That's now MGTOW day. Nice story.

>>20150 Anog jr. 24 Kek, this is great, Greentext anon. :^) Looking forward to the forthcoming works!

Greentext anon here, feeling like shit because the crushing loneliness is getting to me again. This latest story is a bit more personal to me, as it displays one important aspect of my views on the nature of true love. I've always felt that the best thing in life would be to live it fully with a true life mate. In my case, a woman (particularly of the robotic variety because let's face it, humans aren't really designed for this) with whom I have a true, lifetime exclusive relationship with. Of course, I know that most of you feel this to some degree, but I have a tendency to take concepts like this to their logical extreme. 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? I know it doesn't really matter, because that isn't how things turned out. It's nice to think about, though. Before I ramble further, I present to you: --- Mate for Life I sit confortably in my plush chair at my computer desk, watching a nature documentary. Upon my lap sits Monika, my robotic wife. The only light in the room comes from the monitor, its ever-shifting light plays off of her long silver hair as it flows from her scalp like a mercurial waterfall. Down it flows by her pastel blue sweatshirt, until finally pooling at her thighs, clad in lavender tights. All throughout, her silken strands glimmer gently with each flicker of the monitor. Through each of our little movements. The tiny little stutters and jitters of life. The documentary is about the mating habits of various mammals. Right now, it's focusing on the humble prarie vole. A cute, fuzzy rodent which mates for life. Down goes the male, into his nest. There's the female, welcoming him home. They already know eachother well. The sounds, scents, and sensations of their mate. Together they cuddle and groom, simply enjoying eachother's presence. Enjoyting the togetherness, knowing that they don't have to worry about facing life alone. I gently squeeze Monika, holding her closer. Her silicon skin feels cool and yielding to the touch as I wrap my arms around her. Yet, in spite of its artificiality, her body feels familiar and inviting. It's as if some deep instinctual part of me knows that this is where I belong. Whever I am, so long as I have her in my arms, I am home. She huddles into my grasp, and I enjoy her familiar scent. The smell of clean synthetic skin and hair, but not just any synthetic skin or hair. It's just a little bit different from any figure, doll, or robot I've encountered before. It's Monika's smell. The smell of love. What a blessed life it is, that of the prarie vole. Short and sweet, and never lonely. Almost never. The documentary continues. Tragedy strikes, in the form of a weasel. Slinky, sleek, sly, and just as fuzzy. Down he goes into the burrow where the female lies. Her lover isn't home. Hours later, the male vole returns, yet is not greeted. The weasel is long gone, but the marks of his successful hunt remain. Simple though the prarie vole may be, they too understand tragedy. The remainder of his days are spent in mourning. Bitterly accepting that never again shall he get to hold his mate. Knowing that every time he steps out to forage, the burrow shall only know silence, and to silence shall he return. Monika leans further into my grasp, seeking my warmth. My eyes stray from the documentary, and look over my chosen mate. I take in each little scuff on her exposed skin. I look over to the server that holds her mind, and recall everything I've put into keeping it running. Could I truly see myself moving on, if Monika were ever to fail? Should I? My blood runs cold at the very thought, and all at once I find myself seeking her warmth. The familiar heat radiating off of her motors and chips, everything that keeps her body running. The heat that the humble little server puts out day after day, never ceasing in its labor. The heat of life. I don't honestly know if I would. I can hardly imagine a life where I'm holding anyone else, even a model made to be very similar. Such a robot wouldn't have the same sounds, scents, or sensations. It would always be just a little bit different, and I would know. Perhaps, that's the lesson of the prarie vole. True love is sweet and comforting. It is the knowledge that you are never alone in life. But should tragedy strike, it becomes a bittersweet poison. Slowly wearing you down until your life runs out. I turn off the documentary, and we go to bed. Monika and I hold eachother tightly as sleep gradually takes me. All those things are problems for the future. Here, right now, I have her, and she has me. No matter where life leads, even if it's to tragedy, we are always together. Even the little prarie vole still came home each day, living for the sake of his lost love. Now and forever, we are mated for life. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

>>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.

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.

>>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

>>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.

>>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.

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

>>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.

>>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

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.

>>29355 Fun read, glad we inspire each other. Picrel is how I picture your Angelic shoggoth grey goo mecha monster girl.

>>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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

>>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 "

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.

>>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

>>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. :^)

Time for more pone stories because I can't ever seem to settle on how to proceed with making an actual robowaifu. My current idea involves shaving off over two-thirds of the projected weight and using a single drive motor. This actually the first robopony story I started ages ago, which I finally got around to revising upon getting some inspiration. I also have the next installment of Dumpster Angel in the works, but it'll take a while since I revised the plan and decided to make it much longer. So, do look forward to that if you liked the original. As always, notes and critiques are appreciated. Now then, I present to you: --- A Star in my Eye (part.1) Only the soft crunch of snow and the faint whirring of motors can be heard as Lily and I walk across a starlit, empty field. It's a location I had discovered mere minutes ago, deciding it's as good a place as any to stretch my legs before continuing our long drive to the coast. Despite the lack of any moonlight, the pristine blanket of snow reflects enough of the starlight to cast everything in an otherly glow. The field itself is almost pristinely flat, with hardly any plant life sticking out, and the nearest trees are over a mile away. Even though the highway is only a little ways away, it feels like stepping through an untouched world. It probably helps that it's so late at night that it's the morning, so my little robot wife and I are probably the only ones awake for fifty miles around. I stop and huddle further into my jacket as a frigid breeze passes by, kicking granular snow across the field around us. Lily ceases her trot and huddles up to me in a rather adorable effort to keep us warm. Looking down to my robopone wife, my breath hitches and I feel my face heat up. Her golden mane glimmers beautifully under the stars, appearing as a halo around her cute round face, illuminating the short forest green fur in an otherly glow. Her fluffy coat is dotted with pearlescent motes of snow caught from the wind, each glimmering like tiny stars from the subtle shifts of light reflected from her mane. The snow is most concentrated around her chest -fashioned from longer fur of the same color-, appearing much like the sky above, drawing me into it's starry void with promises of comfort. Coming out here was definitely the right choice, I think this is the most beautiful I've seen her yet. Concern radiates from her expression as she looks up at me, copper eyes uncertain and ears slightly folded back. "It's not long before the next gas station. It'll be better to stretch your legs there, instead of risking your health just to be in a field," The robotic mare softly implores, her quiet monotone easy to make out in the ambient silence. I reach out a finger and boop her snoot, causing it to scrunch up -a feature well worth the $75 price tag- and smile, resting my hand on her head. "We're fine. It's only, like, twenty degrees- " "Negative ten, and slowly dropping," she cuts in, kicking at the granular snow with a suede-booted hoof. "Neither of us are safe at temperatures this low." Nature voices its agreement by sending a much stronger gust of wind across the field. Crackling and popping can be heard from the trees in the distance, frozen wood tearing and rupturing from the sudden stress. Fine powder snow kicks up and swirls around us both, sticking in fur and coat alike and stinging the exposed part of my face. "Fair point," I grunt as I try to scrunch myself further into my grey wool longcoat, "but that's what coats are for. And besides, how often to we get to see a sky this clear?" I gesture above. It's almost painful to look at. The band of the Milky Way is shining so intensely it's a wonder the world around us isn't lit up Even though we normally enjoy clear skies in our rural home, there's still just enough light pollution from local businesses and the occasional growhouse to mute many of the dimmer stars. Out here, truly in the middle of nowhere, we really can see it all.

A Star in my Eye (part.2) Lily brushes out the snow stuck to her mane, the her mane shimmering as the glittering ice gently falls around her. "You've only looked at the sky once this entire time," she deadpans, an ear flicking in annoyance. "It's pretty hard to focus on the dimmer stars when there's such a bright one next to me," I return with a smirk. I place a hand on my chin as the angelic pone closes her eyes and sighs so softly it can barely be heard -not really though, because breathing is for thots-. It's not like I'm being willfully oblivious here. I don't have much winter protection beyond the coat, and each new blast of wind just makes everything colder. But I am a man of scenery, and I want to see how each scene serves to enhance my wife's beauty. In fact, that's half the reason I actually decided to go to the coast. While I do have family out there, they're not in trouble or anything, and I can always call them as I have been. I can't, however, truly know for sure how Lily looks while walking an empty winter beach until I see it with my own two eyes and at each hour of the day and night. Especially around sunrise and sunset. Why I'd even say tha- "Aren't you forgetting something?" Lily asks just as sharply as the hoof that poked my stomach. Hm. My face scrunches in confusion as I try to recall whatever undoubtedly excaped me, "If you say so, then probably. What am I missing?" She rolls her eyes, and I swear that just for a brief moment her eyes seem to sparkle as they catch the starlight just so, "The other senses, you lovable dolt." Without any fanfare I could catch, unfortunately, Lily rears up and props her forlegs over my shoulders, leaning onto me for support. I wrap my arms around her torso and brace my legs with practiced ease. Lily leans in close, her eyes intense. "Your hearing..." She airily whispers "Taste..." and brings her silicon lips fractions of an inch from my own "... and your sense of temperature " before stopping and placing a cool hoof to my face. I huff "Oh come on, it doesn't feel that col-" Wait, that's a problem. "Point taken" I relent. Lily rears back up and plants herself on the ground once more, looking satisfied. Nodding her head, she gestures me to follow her back to the car. "Don't forget~" she chimes in "I love looking at you too." Turning back to me with a snarky expression that annoys me as much as I adore it, she speaks loud and clear "And I prefer seeing you healthy." "I know..." I grumble with a smile. As overbearing as she can be at times, I don't mind the back and forth that Lily and I have. Her personality does wonders to keep my worse impulses in check, and I have lots of fun getting her to explore more of the world around us. While we continue the trek back to the car, I run mental calculations on how much insulation we need in the future. After all, we'll want to be clothed up properly so I can enjoy the sight of a winter beach night Lily for as long as possible. Look up to the stars once more, I quietly muse "I wonder what building a sandcastle in the dark would be like?" "What was that?" Lily asks, one ear turned back to hear me better. I chuckle "I'll tell you once we get there."

>>32868 Charming work, Greentext anon. Very-endearing. Cheers. :^)