Programmed Competition

PROGRAMMED COMPETITION

I. Melody: Disco Risque's

Melody confidently strode past the eager throng of men and women queued up outside Disco Risque's bright neon signage. The nightclub, an extravagantly renovated multi-storied theater, had become a staple of Palm City's nightlife scene only a few years prior.

She relished the attention as dozens of heads turned her way, a throng of gazes fixing themselves on her backside, as she made her way up to the bouncer planted outside the entrance.

He was built like a tank with an intimidating scowl to match, but his expression melted into one of adoration as he saw Melody approach. She flashed him a brilliant smile, the thousands of delicate servo actuators embedded just behind her faceplate working harmoniously to pull off the facial expression preset. He gave her a knowing wink and opened up the rope for her to slip inside. She wriggled her plastic curves right on by, making sure the bouncer got a dynamite view of her tight silver dress pulled tight over her shapely derriere.

A few patrons in the front of the line began to protest but were quickly silenced as the bouncer turned their direction and flipped back to his well-practiced scowl.

Melody stifled a moan the instant she walked through the ornate double doored entrance. Bass frequencies from the dance floor resonated through her hybrid alloy chassis, triggering small but measurable tactile responses from the sensory arrays woven into the intersection of her long, slender thighs.

Tossing her shoulder length brunette locks to one side, she rounded a corner and spotted the source of the sound, an exorbitant tower of amplifiers, speakers, tweeters, and subwoofers all neatly stacked on top of each other. The 'Tower of Sound', as the club's regulars referred to it, reached all the way from the floor to the cavernous vaulted ceiling above. Each of the club's four stories circled around the tower, its roar of pulsing house music a constant buzzing drone everywhere you went.

After a quick scan of the dancing crowd, Melody spotted her friends smiling and waving from up against the railing of the third floor. Recognizing her three fellow La Femme Parfaite companion units, Melody's bright green eyes flashed for a microsecond as she linked her Communications Suite to the group's networked data-feed.

"Get up here Melody! Cynthia snuck in some electro-chews. We know how you much you like them you kinky little Modèle VII!"

Melody stopped abruptly, her buoyant C-cup breasts bouncing up and down behind her form-fitting sequin dress. She pivoted exactly 122.7 degrees to her left, facing the stairs, before continuing forward, "Oooh, now you're speaking my language. I'll be right up!"

The strobing club lights danced across the svelte contours of her silver dress as she worked her way through the crowd and up the stairs. She identified several men, who's eyes were glued to her modelesque curves, and logged them in her memory cache as high-percentage targets for later that evening. She made sure each step she took lingered for a fraction of a second too long, giving them ample time to see her toned calves in action.

Rounding the corner onto the second set of cement stairs, Melody nearly collided with a buxom blonde whose generous ass was provocatively sticking out into the walking lane.

Her systems immediately identified the culprit, Joi, your typical loose-circuited, plastic-faced, sloppily-programmed Automation Playground (AP) bimbo-bot. Melody swore Joi must be here every night with the regularity of which she ran into her.

Her main CPU was annoyed. Ugh. I swear these AP fuck toys are programmed with no decency!

She adjusted her pathfinding algorithm to maneuver around Joi but stopped short as her Behavioral Software Suite spontaneously formulated a creative response to her provocative positioning.

Melody raised her hand and gave the well-endowed AP bot a hard slap on the rear. She noted to herself that the feel and jiggle of Joi's plastic ass was much more realistic than she had anticipated.

Joi turned instantly, smiling seductively, her eyes half-lidded, "That felt SO good!" She shifted her hips, further displaying her well-engineered assets, "Like what you se..."

Her head cocked to the side abruptly and her face transitioned to a look of puzzlement as her systems finally processed who had just smacked her enticing derriere.

She scanned Melody up and down, jerkily spinning around to face her head on. "Way to get a bot's hopes up..." Her eyelashes fluttered several times, "...Melody. "

Melody turned away, somewhat embarrassingly detecting a slight temperature variation in the folds of her artificial pussy, and continued up to her friends, "I don't have time for you tonight, Joi."

--

Melody's friends greeted her with an exchange of hugs and kisses on the cheek. Serena, a tall and slender red-headed Modèle VI, handed her an electro-chew and pointed to Melody's feet.

"Those pumps are just stunning darling! Three inch heels? Tell me where you got them?"

Taking the electro-chew, shaped like a traditional stick of chewing gum, Melody smiled and popped it in her mouth, "Yep! Three inch heels are market-tested to look best on my Modèle VII chassis, and I got them at Luca's. I told you about the manager there, right?"

Her nipples stiffened through her dress as the electro-chew activated in her mouth, sending small electrical pulses shooting through her wires, making her sexware tingle.

"Wow! That feels nice..."

She instinctively tugged at the hem of her dress, "...Well, let's just say I gave him a proper sampling of my systems for a STEEP discount."

Charlene, a sturdier sepia-toned toned Modèle V, playfully punched her in the shoulder, "You Modèle VII's have all the fun! I haven't had a good romp outside of the club in over a week!"

Melody quipped back with a laugh, "That's because of that third party vibration module you self-installed in your snatch last month, Charlene! Every guy that you take for a ride runs the risk of being shocked; I'd be scared to go back for seconds too!"

Charlene jokingly pushed her crotch up against Melody and activated the module. Melody's nipples stiffened even further as she registered the feeling of Charlene's vibrating mons on the exposed synth-skin of her thigh.

"Oh they love it! They always cum so fast too! Admit it, that feels pretty nice, doesn't it-it-it..."

A sharp blue arc of electricity jumped from Charlene to Melody with a harsh SNAP.

"Ah-Ah-Ah! Charlene-ene-ene, you need to get that thing checked out!" Melody yelled out as she jumped backwards into the railing. A brief system check confirmed everything was in order, no issues detected from the unexpected jolt of energy. Although, she did notice her plastic sex was growing increasingly hot. She bit down on her bottom lip and slyly pressed her panty-covered clit against one of the narrow banisters.

"...it-it-it-it-it-it-it..." Charlene blinked erratically, her crotch buzzing noisily, as she found herself stuck repeating the same word over and over again.

Cynthia, a petite raven-haired Modèle VI with a short pixie cut, stepped forward and grabbed Charlene by the shoulder. "Come on girl, let's take you to one of the side rooms and get you restarted."

Melody and Serena watched their two friends disappear into the crowd before moving their attention to the dance floor below. The bass was pumping, hundreds of people and bots alike gyrating together in a mass of sweat and energy around the tower of sound.

Melody's systems located several of the men who had shot her longing glances earlier. She found that two of them were actually clustered together and competing for...Joi's attention?!

Her circuits boiled with digitized anger.

She pointed towards Joi, securing Serena's attention.

"That little AP fuck-bot is always stealing my men! Our measurements aren't even that similar, I don't understand."

Serena commented, "Yeah, but she does rock that plump little ass quite nicely. Just like you!"

She gave Melody a playful squeeze of her shapely derrière to emphasize her point. Melody could only help but to bite her lip again and grind her mons even harder into the banister from the extra tactile stimulus.

Her sexware was really revving up!

"Ugh, look! She's just moving through a series of preset dance patterns. It's so obvious; she's cycling through the same set of moves every...15.2 seconds. I don't get what people see in those shoddy AP bots!"

"If she bothers you so much, why don't you just mess with her systems? Every hour on the hour, if they don't yet have a suitor attached to their hip, they'll go into one of the side rooms to check their appearance and run a quick system diagnostic. It's like wired into their programming or something. Weird AP quirk."

Melody turned to Serena, an inquisitive grin plastered on her face, "And you know this how?"

Serena blushed, "I wanted to know how their systems stack up to ours...it was just one night of fun, really! Nothing more!"

Melody mischievously nudged Serena with her elbow, an idea forming in her mind, "Hmm well maybe I'll put Joi's fragile little systems through the wringer..."

Immediately, she web-scraped several AP technical forums for anything and everything relating to unauthorized access of their systems. Based off of Joi's 36D-26-36 measurements and her curly blonde hairpiece, Melody presumed Joi to be a second generation Automation Playground All Purpose Beach Bot. Within 7 seconds of vacant eyed staring, Melody had her hacking method in place.

"...I know she can't stack up to me. I mean look at me, I'm a La Femme Parfaite Modèle VII, I'm basically the Ferrari of sexbots!"

She emphasized the point by putting her hands on her hips while simultaneously pushing her bust out, straining the limits of silhouette-hugging minidress.

She admitted to herself that the action was a bit more pre-programmed than she would have liked. She couldn't help it though, she was built to show off her perfectly engineered curves!

Serena responded by cupping her own pair of perky B-cups, adjusting their positioning inside her push-up bra to maximize her bubbly cleavage, "Well I'll go down and distract those two guys at least. Joi's systems won't log them as suitors if I'm good enough."

She gestured to her svelte curves, seemingly poured into her tight cream cop and matching miniskirt, "And I know I'm good enough. I mean look at me, I'm a La Femme Parfaite Modèle VI, I'm the best selling companion unit in the entire EU!"

She blinked a few times, shifting back to her original point, "Anyways, with the two of them taken care of by yours truly, that should trigger Joi to make her trip to one of the side rooms in..." She queried her internal chronometer, "...five minutes. Shit, I'll have to be fast!"

She pushed off the railing and sauntered down the stairs. Melody followed behind, watching her friend's supple rear jiggle with each meticulous stride down.

Melody observed from several meters away as Serena practically threw herself at the two men dancing with Joi. Her dynamic social programming suite allowing her to read the reactions on their faces effortlessly.

Within a few minutes Serena had expertly inserted herself in-between Joi and the two men, heavily leaning into one while letting the other caress her soft supermodel curves.

Joi just stood there for a few moments, blinking over and over again, as her systems churned through an analysis of the situation.

Finally, at precisely 01:00AM, she pivoted away and began walking straight towards a bank of side rooms.

The plan was working brilliantly.

Melody followed her from a distance and watched her enter Side Room #12. She picked up her speed, and caught the door just as it was closing.

Melody shut the door quietly behind her and scanned the room. Joi stood in front of a body-length mirror studying herself.

She hadn't noticed Melody's entrance.

Locking the door, Melody slowly creeped up on the side of Joi, ensuring she stayed just outside the AP bot's wide field of view.

It was time for some fun.

--

--

II. Joi: The Guest Experience

A small chime, indicating her diagnostic had completed its cycle with no errors, sounded from deep within Joi's plastic and carbon fiber framework.

She looked at her perfect hourglass figure in the long mirror, working through a complex set of algorithms to determine if she needed to make any changes to her hair, makeup, or outfit.

Her bright cerulean blue tube-top was suctioned against her full-bosomed chest, her pink plastic nipples just barely peeking through the latex. She wore a pair of matching legging shorts that similarly hugged her curvaceous hips and bountiful ass so tightly it would have been borderline concerning were she a real girl. They were perfectly tailored for her dimensions, their end-seam finishing just beneath the round swells of her gluteal folds.

In the middle of the two garments, Joi showed off several inches of her toned, and well tanned, midriff. Her long legs, which glimmered with a slight plastic sheen, poured out from her shorts and ended in a pair of four inch cream stilettos.

She determined that her outfit looked perfect on her body; she had been designed to have the best measurements of any bot on the market after all.

Looking at her soft blue eyes with matching mascara she came to a similar conclusion; her high cheekbones and wide eyes were immaculately constructed. Unless she registered any faults in the application of her makeup, which was a 1 in 452 occurrence, she'd never find a reason to change anything.

The analysis of her exterior was complete.

Strutting out of Side Room #2 at 12:05AM, Joi walked directly into the throng of dancers.

Her systems went into overdrive as her vision system logged each and every face she passed, assigning a unique identifier to each one along with an estimated sexual opportunity score.

In addition to its stylish interior and extravagant sound system, Disco Risque's was known for being the hookup capital of Palm City. The club had quickly leaned into the sensual angle, and retrofitted a handful of old rehearsal rooms into, well kept and frequently cleaned, quasi-bedrooms for the guests to use.

It helped that a large number of the clientele utilizing the rooms were bots whose sterilization procedures were, by law, uncompromisingly thorough.

It was quite the symbiotic relationship; the expensive sexbots would get into the club for free and by extension they would bring in droves of paying men and women who would burn through enough alcohol in a night to bankrupt a small sovereign nation.

Joi was proud of being a sexbot, and even prouder to be an Automation Playground All Purpose Beach Bot! Her line of models didn't have 10,476 five-star reviews on BotRanker.net for nothing after all!

Sure, she had been fully independent for over a year now and didn't NEED to be here at Disco Risque's looking to get her digital rocks off, but she was built for sex and quite enjoyed the flirty experiences that led up to it. So, why not come to a place where she could dress as erotically as her systems pleased, without inadvertently causing a traffic incident, and seduce some of the hottest and most fit individuals that Palm City had to offer!

So fixated with the assignment of unique identifiers, Joi didn't even notice Jasmine until she had walked right into her.

"Ugh. Sorry Jasmine! My pathfinding software is not playing well with my vision system tonight. I think that last over-the-air update messed with some subsystem data handoffs. I swear it's getting harder and harder to be a second generation; it's the G3's that they're really coding the updates for now."

Jasmine replied via wrapping Joi in a hug; the olive-skinned Automation Playground Next Door Sweetheart was perhaps programmed with a bit too much exuberance, "Don't be sorry! I'm so happy to see you! You're the first AP-gal I've seen all night! I just keep bumping into those La Femme Parfaite prudes. I swear their personality presets out of the shop must be 'Stick Up the Ass' or 'Standoffish Bitch'."

She giggled at her own joke, finally letting Joi out of her embrace, "And look at you! Wow! You Beach Bots always look just so sexy!"

Joi beamed and performed a short pre-programmed asset display subroutine, running her hands up and down her sides while twirling in a cute circle.

"Well you Next Door Sweethearts are market-tested as the best Eye-Candy under $100k and you fully look the part tonight!"

"Thanks!" shouted Jasmine, before pirouetting into her own pre-programmed asset display routine; it was nearly identical to Joi's with a few not so subtle variations.

She was dressed simply, as her personality core preferred, donning just a tight black t-shirt and sporty pair of bootcut jeans.

Their routines had attracted a bit of attention and they each found themselves with a few potential suitors approaching them.

Two well-dressed women began arguing over Jasmine, who was elegantly able to navigate out of the situation, "Ladies! I'm programmed with over 220 dance routines that require two partners and that's just the tip of the iceberg compared to what I have to offer in the bedroom!"

She tugged on both of their hands, pulling them deeper into the mass of sweat, bass, and booze, "Come on!"

That left Joi with three men. Her Central-Processing-Core (CPC) chugged as she tried to formulate a course of action for working with all three of them harmoniously. However, the process, which involved too many variables, errored out and she was left there just blinking erratically, her fingers playing with her hair in an idle-state pre-programmed animation loop.

Finally her systems snapped out of it and she changed up her approach completely. She pointed at the bulkiest man of the three. She liked strength, "You."

He immediately stepped forward, and scooping her around the waist, dragged her into the crowd. Her elasti-pussy contracted, pulsing with heat as she imagined his strong hands testing the limits of her robotic framework in one of the side rooms later that night.

--

Joi enjoyed house music. The repetitive loops and steady thumping bass kicks allowed her to elegantly match the timing of her dance routines to each song's BPM.

More-so however, she liked the sensation of her potential suitor's strong hands gripping her hips, his cock rubbing between her proprietary gel-pack ass cheeks.

His sexual opportunity score was rising within Joi's systems by the second.

She could feel her panties soaking with her aromatic lubricant, her nipples set to their stiffest setting, sending trickles of pleasure data through her CPC as they rubbed up against her shiny latex tube top.

Her systems were fully primed and she was horny; she was all but ready to take him back to one of the side rooms for a bit of fun. However, after several songs she noticed his movements becoming sloppier and sloppier; she suspected he was becoming intoxicated.

Spinning around, Joi lifted up on her tiptoes and brought the man in for a long kiss. While doing this, she engaged a breathalyzer in the back of her throat and tested the man's blood alcohol content.

She pulled back from the kiss after seven seconds and engaged the testing chamber nestled at the bottom of her plastic throat.

The sampling process was taking longer than usual. She tapped her foot impatiently and let him play with a boob.

Finally the results came back at a 0.19%, well beyond the limits of what she was allowed to engage with in terms of brand new suitors.

She spoke to him matter of factly before walking off towards the stairs, "You're too impaired to give me consent. I'm not allowed to proceed any further. Sorry!"

--

It was 15 minutes until the top of the hour and she had just lost her suitor. "Shit!" She whispered to herself.