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djs-horny-blog-lmao · 3 months

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admin privileges

logince, sub logan dom roman. about 2.8k words.

hypnokink, dronification, d/s, brainwashing/programming, dubious consent/cnc. Logan is an android and Roman is a human. Logan's trans, kind of. has a robopussy. uses of 'sir' and 'admin' as titles. inappropriate use of ports.

summary: Logan agrees to let Roman help run his routine maintenance, especially as he has put off doing a proper, deep scan for a while. Roman... takes the opportunity to add some of his own programming, while he has a direct link to Logan's brain.

full fic under the cut ;]

=== === === ===

“Thank you for agreeing to do my maintenance,” Logan says from where he’s sitting on the bench, plugged into his power-port, blinking at his friend behind the desk.

Roman smiles at him.

“Of course,” he replies. “It must suck having to run your own diagnostics.”

He then types something into the computer, and Logan shifts, where he’s sitting, tracing the cables and cords that run from Roman’s computer into Logan’s plugs. He’s an android, and while he is capable of doing this himself, he’s left it a little too long, and when his battery gets low, he… slows down.

Roman offered to do it for him, today, and so Logan gets to just sit still, charging, watching the percentage metre on his UI slowly tick upwards, as diagnostic data rolls past on his periphery. Logan tunes it out, this time, though. He trusts Roman.

“The worst part is plugging yourself in,” he agrees.

Roman laughs a little, and reclines in his chair, looking over at Logan.

“How long does this usually take?”

Logan rubs the back of his neck, just below his synthetic blue hairline, careful not to dislodge the plug in the back of his neck.

“An hour or two,” he says. “I haven’t done a full scan in a while, purely because it takes so long. My impatience has not paid off, clearly.”

Roman snorts. “You hardly ever seem to unwind enough to sit still for that long,” he teases back. “…I can help with that, though, if you want?”

“What?”

“Help with passing the time,” Roman says innocently enough. “While we wait for the scan.”

Logan blinks at him again. “…That is what you’re here for.”

And Roman grins.

“Good,” he says. “Trust me, Logan.”

Logan frowns, and as Roman types something more, and something suddenly feels different about how Logan perceives the world, he goes to stand, trying to be mindful not to unplug himself.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Roman tuts, barely glancing up from his monitors. “Sit down, Logan. You don’t want to yank out your cables.”

Logan… does as he’s told. That surprises him. He sits back down, his processor barely seeming to do little more than… let the order pass through and be accepted.

“…What?” Logan asks. “What just happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roman says, typing more intensely, and suddenly, Logan wonders if he should be concerned that he asked a coder as good as Roman to oversee his maintenance. “Just sit there, Logan, and talk to me. We’re just going to sit here together while the scan goes through.”

But… Logan just nods, despite himself, and some of the concern melts away. He won’t worry about it, then.

“Okay,” he says.

“Good,” Roman says, and shoots Logan a pretty smile. “Thank you, Logan.”

Logan shifts a little again, biting his lip as his fan whines away quietly, starting to work a little harder.

“Are you alright, Logan?” Roman asks, tilting his head, pausing his typing, looking at Logan like he’s waiting for something in specific to happen.

Logan shivers, before he touches his outer thigh, his side, his spine (as best he can) and, importantly, the power cord plugged into the back of his neck to check he didn’t dislodge any of the cables.

“I think so,” he says. “I… feel strange.”

“Well, it must be because you’ve put off doing a proper scan,” Roman tells him, and Logan purses his lips and nods along, it’s a good point. “No wonder you’d be feeling funny.”

Funny. That’s a good word for it. Logan’s lips tweak into a smile.

“That’s a very human way of putting it,” he muses. “Funny…”

“Yeah,” Roman nods. “It’s a good word for when you can’t quite describe something. Especially when you’ve never quite felt anything like it before.”

“Funny,” Logan echoes, before he shivers again. “I… I do feel funny.”

“Well, then,” Roman says, turning back to the screens and typing some more. “That’s strange, isn’t it? What does it feel like?”

Logan frowns into space as that feeling… grows. It sands down the edges of his mind, softening everything, making it a little harder to think. If he was able to pay attention to it, Logan might have noticed that the diagnostic data in the corner of his UI was giving him different read-outs than usual. Logan doesn’t notice, though.

“It…” his voice is so soft, the synthesizer is much more pronounced. “It feels like static. Warm static.”

“Does it feel nice?” Roman asks, glancing up from his screens.

Logan stares ahead for a little longer before replying, genuinely evaluating the way the fuzz makes him feel. But the longer he sits there, the more it builds, and… the warmer and more comfortable it gets.

Eventually, Logan actually smiles, and replies, “…yes, it does.”

“That’s good,” Roman says. “That’s wonderful. Sink into it, Logan.”

“…Hm?” Logan blinks a few times, trying to grasp a thought as Roman’s words sit a little funny with him.

“You can sink into it,” Roman encourages again, and the sound of Roman’s fingers flying over the keys hits Logan’s audio-processors, and it’s… oddly soothing. “You should. It feels good, it’s a reward, Logan, for letting me do your maintenance.”

“Oh,” Logan says, before he slumps a little, letting himself smile again. “Okay.”

His optics drift closed, now, slowly, his UI dimming, and Roman stands up as he realises something, and Logan watches Roman cross the room, approach, and…

Roman pulls out his power cord.

“But…” Logan says hazily, as the low battery alert pops up on his UI. “I… I’m only at fifteen percent, Roman.”

“That’s okay,” Roman says, and… he touches Logan. He runs his finger around the rim of Logan’s power plug, and Logan gasps. “That’s okay, Logan. You said you feel slow and fuzzy on low battery. I think that’s a nice place to be, especially while you have lots of time to wait. Don’t worry, I’ll plug you in before your battery goes fully dead.”

Logan wants to reply, maybe even to argue, but his full attention is on Roman’s fingertip, running circles around his port.

“Does this feel good, Logan?” Roman asks him. “Does this feel funny?”

Logan nods as best he can without moving too much to dislodge Roman’s hand. His mouth is hanging open. His fans are whirring. His eyes usually glow – they’re dimmed now, for being in power saving mode.

“God, you look so good on low battery,” Roman says hungrily. “I was reading up about your model, Logan. You have all the sensory receptors a human would. A feat of engineering. You can feel the same emotions. The same pain.”

The finger keeps circling.

“The same pleasure,” Roman says, his voice soft and lulling. “And your mind is just as malleable. Even more so, when you let me in like this.”

Logan whimpers. He hasn’t tested the full capabilities of his pleasure sensors yet.

“Roman,” he manages to say. It comes out with a harsher, synthetic edge.

“God, you sound so good like that,” Roman murmurs, and he leans in and licks Logan’s cheek. It makes the android shudder. “Has anyone ever done this to you, Logan?”

“No,” Logan says honestly, his head tipping back against Roman’s arm. “H-hah…”

“Do you know what’s going on, Logan?” Roman asks.

“N-no…”

“I’m programming you,” Roman tells him.

Logan stares up at Roman’s face through half-lidded, non-understanding eyes.

“…Hm?”

“Programming you,” Roman repeats. “Programming some things into you. Nothing bad, mind you. How can it be bad? It feels so good.”

Roman’s words somehow seem perfectly in time with the way his finger traces Logan’s port. Logan whimpers again, and slowly spreads his legs, bracing himself on his hands so he can grind up against nothing. He… he feels so needy.

“You’re so smart, and so independent,” Roman keeps talking. “You never let anyone take care of you. You even run your own maintenance. You don’t need to do that, anymore.”

Logan must be hot to the touch, for how hard his fan is working. He’s gasping for air. The tactile pleasure receiver between his legs is already throbbing, his pleasure system has well and truly kicked in and his slit is now wet. Logan grinds against the air. He’s not opposed to touching himself, normally, but he doesn’t like wasting the lubrication – it’s annoying and kind of embarrassing to refill, especially when he’s alone.

But he isn’t now.

“You can let me do it,” Roman says, and his other hand comes to Logan’s throat, tracing its way downwards. “You can let me run your maintenance. You can let me look after you. You can let me do this to you.”

Logan moans, optics rolling as Roman dips a finger into his charging port, before it returns to circling.

“You never mentioned your charging port was sensitive,” Roman comments.

“O-only when- ah!” Logan’s hips thrust up again, and he shoots Roman a hazy, desperate look. “Only when I’m low… low battery.”

“I see,” Roman hums, and he slips his finger back into the port, and Logan moans so loud his vocaliser glitches, his optics rolling. “Good boy for telling me.”

And- oh. Roman starts to finger his charging port. Logan grips the bench so tightly as waves of pleasure crash over him. It feels so good, and normally, when he’s feeling this good, Logan would be a few fingers deep in himself, but… but his hands won’t move. He can only sit there, sit still and take what Roman’s doing.

“Good boy,” Roman repeats, drawling over the words, drawing out, making Logan focus on them, sink into them. “Such a good boy.”

“R-Roman, Roman, s-sir,” Logan gasps, wanting more, wanting to beg but surprisingly unable to find the words. He’s surprised by sir, though.

“Oh, that did work,” Roman notes, pleased. “Yes, Logan?”

“I… I wanna…” Logan stammers, trying to press back against Roman’s hand, even as his other hand rests flat on Logan’s stomach. “I-I need to…”

“You need to cum?” Roman asks him. “Are you that needy, Logan?”

Logan can’t cry, but he would be crying now if he could.

“Yes!” Logan gasps. “Yes, sir!”

“Good boy,” Roman praises him, and the fingering speeds up, and Logan’s visuals are flickering for how overloaded his processor is, he can only focus on the pleasure. “It feels good to call me sir. It feels good to let me do this to you. You want it. You need it.”

“I need it,” Logan repeats, fan whining.

“You need sir to fuck you.”

“I…” Logan gasps as Roman pulls his finger away, leaving him aching and so, so wet. “I need sir to fuck me.”

Once the words are said outloud, it’s like something has shifted again. Logan opens his optics a little wider, and Roman watches it register across his face.

“I need you to fuck me,” Logan repeats, more insistent this time, more desperate, and he spreads his legs wider and looks up at Roman even as Roman drinks him in. “Please fuck me, sir. Please?”

“Good boy,” Roman says. “Hm. What percentage are you on?”

Logan shudders. “N-nine, sir.”

Roman smiles, unbuckles his belt and shimmies his pants down enough to reveal his cock, and oh, Logan has had a fascination with organic sexual organs, but he’s never had the chance to really look at one before.

“Then I better fuck you before you go flat,” Roman says. “But if you go flat, and I’m not done, I may just keep fucking you. Do you mind, Logan?”

Logan’s head spins with arousal at the mere idea, and he shakes his head desperately.

“I don’t mind, sir, I don’t,” Logan says, as he carefully lays back on his elbows. “Eight percent, sir, please fuck me?”

Roman steps in between Logan’s thighs and presses his cock to Logan’s dripping slit. Logan likes to stretch himself but technically, he doesn’t need it, and that’s proven as Roman pushes straight in.

“Oh-hh.”

Logan moans, so genuine and so loud that his voice modulator glitches again. H-he’s… never had something organic inside him before. It feels so good, hot and warm and soft, he can feel it throb inside him.

“God, you’re perfectly tight,” Roman groans, his hands coming to grip Logan’s thighs, fingers splayed around the cable plugged into his right one. “I’ve dreamt about fucking this robot pussy, Logan. You’re perfect for me.”

Logan’s too busy shorting out on overloaded pleasure centres to answer. The diagnostic data is still scrolling past on his UI, flashing words at him, the blinking warning of his low battery alert is rhythmic and entrancing, and his cognitive… oh, that must be it. Logan smiles dreamily. His cognitive processor has been… um…

Dulled. Is that the right word? Logan giggles a little as Roman thrusts into him. Dimmed? Dumbed down.

“God, there it is,” Roman breathes. “Fuck, I was waiting for that. You just figured out what’s going on, haven’t you, Logan?”

“Yeah,” Logan replies, equally as breathily, though it’s synthetic for him. “I’m stupid!”

“You are!” Roman says delightedly, and he starts to fuck Logan properly, setting a rhythm that makes Logan gasp, and his head loll with every thrust. “You’re my dumb little drone, who needs my cock.”

“Ohh,” Logan moans, both in pleasure and in realisation even as Roman’s… as his admin’s cock drives all his thoughts away. “I’m… a dumb… f-fuck, dumb drone…”

“You need my cock.”

“I n-need Admin’s cock,” Logan echoes.

“Fuck, that worked.” Roman slows right down, grinds against Logan painfully slowly, less because he wants to and more like he has something to test. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, Logan.”

“Hgn, please cum in me, sir,” Logan looks up at him with dull, dull optics. “Please fill me, Admin, please.”

“H-ha, fuck.”

Roman gives in, then. The last of his willpower shattered. Logan moans over and over, his modulator almost giving up, his vision flickering even as Roman’s programming washes over his visual processor and sinking in deeper, and he clenches around Roman’s cock.

“God, you make such a good drone,” Roman gasps, his hips slapping against Logan’s. “You’re perfect. You want this. You need this. You were built to take my cock.”

“I was built to take your cock,” Logan slurs.

“When I refer to myself as Admin, you fall into this headspace,” Roman tells him. “Blank and fuzzy, warm and needy. Understand?”

“Yes, Admin,” Logan replies. It’s mechanical. P-programmed into him.

“F-fuck, shit, shit, shit,” Roman loses his rhythm, “gonna fucking cum, Logan.”

“Please, please, please,” Logan begs, desperate for release – Roman’s release, his own release, anything. “Please, please, please, please.”

Logan’s vision dims even more. Two percent.

“Fuck, fucking cum for me, Logan,” Roman orders, and one hand flies to Logan’s neck, fumbling, sliding around his casing until his finger sinks back into Logan’s port, and Logan goes fully tense asn he cums.

His orgasm is so intense, it completely overloads Logan’s brain. He goes still, goes limp, eyes flickering, as Roman keeps fucking him, chasing his orgasm.

It feels so fucking good, Logan opens his mouth to try say anything, maybe to try warn Roman about the imminent shut down being warned in his UI, but the urge of power it took to cum makes it impossible.

Logan has just enough battery power to feel Roman cum inside him before he goes flat.

---

Logan opens his eyes with a gasp. H-he feels… he feels so horny, he knows without even glancing at his UI that his pleasure system is lit up like a city, and he glances at Roman, who is waiting behind the computer, idly typing.

…Maybe Roman hasn’t noticed? Logan bites his lip. That’s good. H-he can just wait til the scan’s over, and then get himself off in privacy.

“H-how’s it going, Roman?” he calls.

“Oh!” Roman starts, glancing over. “Good! It’s almost done. You’ve got ten percent left.”

Logan nods, before he frowns at his UI. “…I have surprisingly low battery,” he comments.

“Oh,” Roman waves a hand. “It turns out you didn’t plug in properly before we started. You went flat halfway through and I plugged you in then.”

Logan frowns. He could have sworn he did, in fact, plug himself in properly. But the proof otherwise is in front of him, so… he shrugs.

“Thank you, then,” he says. “…I’ll admit, it’s nice to have someone else here to catch my mistakes like that.”

Roman’s eyes flash with something, then. A little amused, almost.

“Of course,” he says. “Hey, I can help out from now on, if you want, I don’t mind.”

Logan feels an inexplicable throb between his legs, and desperately ignores it, smiling politely at Roman.

“…Actually, that’s very kind of you,” Logan says. “I’d like that.”

Roman smiles, and stands.

“Admin access,” he declares.

Logan doesn’t even have time to process the statement before everything goes funny. He plummets back down, back into trance, the warm embrace of Roman’s programming taking over.

Logan hardly hears himself speak as he spreads his legs.

“Access granted. Drone is ready.”

Roman grins wickedly, and proudly takes his rightful place between Logan’s legs, so he can really make sure the programming has set in.

#nsfs fic #nsft fic #nsfs logan #nsfs roman #nsfs logince #hypnokink #hypnosis #dronification #dj writes #...this is kind of the inverse of that first thing i ever posted. of vampire logan domming roman. anyway.#robophilia #robot fucker #i feel like there's a word for it i cant remember what it is #anyway. enjoy.#tbh. this is for my mutual who kept putting robofucking on my dash

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audioaujom · 7 months

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(10) Why Do Living Things Need Feelings?

LTWF Hub, < prev, next >

Hello hello! I’ve nothing to say to go along with this update except: enjoy. Perhaps things will look up. We’re getting close to the end, afterall. ((:

Word Count: 1230

Meanwhile, Virgil was attempting a very, very risky plan.

Well it wasn’t risky necessarily, but it wasn’t a very good idea. He was fresh out of good ideas, though. They ran out with his patience approximately two minutes after waking up several days ago, kidnapped in a basement.

For now, he resigned himself to sawing at the tape binding his hands with the cap of a plastic water bottle Janus had left him with, finally splitting the wrapped tape enough that he could yank it apart with just his strength—or what was left of it.

It had taken him far too long and far too much energy to do, praying he wouldn’t be too late to stop Janus from fucking around with Logan any further.

Even the basement of the Engineering Building was familiar from all the days he'd spent trekking through it, legs shaking but supporting him on adrenaline alone as he passed maintenance door after maintenance door, forcing himself up two flights of steps to the floor with his lab on it.

Even if the professor was out, maybe he could put something together with his tools.

Or find his phone and call… the police?

None of his plans were finishing themselves, unhinged ideas swirling into an incoherent mess as he half-walked/half-dragged himself down the hall to finally reach the door to the lab—which had all of the lights off. The lab itself was nearly deserted when Virgil finally got the door open and stumbled inside, the suspicion in his gut settling into a hard stone of dread as he saw Logan idling beside Professor Villarehal’s desk.

“Shit.”

“Oh, hello.” Logan turned to glance at him as he came in, smile empty. “Do you work here?”

Grabbing several tools off his work station and limping up to the front desk, Virgil bit back his sarcasm. “Yup.”

Janus must've done a factory reset, Virgil decided, grimace morphing into a grin. But that's nothing I can't fix.

——

Logan, to be entirely honest, had no idea what was going on.

After the strange student had stuck the tools into his neck the metal casing of his head started squeezing in a strange way—and it wasn’t supposed to do that. He knew he was online the way he was supposed to be, but everything felt… off. He couldn’t actually see anything and all he could hear was a high-pitched ringing as he tried to force himself to the surface of whatever weird fog had invaded his programming.

What… happened?

Parsing through his memory didn't yield anything at first, until he managed to pull up something seemingly from before. His memory only started from this morning, but this one was dated as the night before.

He was standing in Professor Sanders’ classroom, surrounded by several kids. Their names were hazy, but he felt a distinct change in his attitude as he recognized one of the faces in front of him.

“Oh, please. Stop struggling, this won’t hurt.” Janus had commented with a proud sneer, pausing a little before correcting, “Maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

Logan was being held down by the students, unable to stop Janus as he stepped around behind him and pried the panel on his neck open.

Everything went white.

The fog still wasn't clearing, but some things were starting to make sense. The student—Virgil. His name is Virgil, he's one of Patton’s friends—must've found a way to redownload everything that Janus had tried to destroy from the reset.

Oh, but Patton…

Something in his memory of the boy’s bright smile and auburn bangs had his head squeezing again, synthetic oil rushing through the pump placed perfectly center in his chest in oddly rhythmic stuttering contractions.

He blinked once, watching the darkness cross his vision before disappearing—not taking any of the static in his vision with it. He tried blinking again, once again only getting a brief wash of darkness.

Why can’t I see anything?

As old memories continually resurfaced—in no particular order—he tried to use one of his hands to see if something was obstructing his eyes, only for his hand to barely twitch. For some odd reason, he couldn’t seem to move or see except for whatever weird glitching continued to spaz in his body.

What was going on?

His attitude shifted again, memory full of images of sitting alone with Patton in the classroom. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about their conversation about the stars, the pump in his chest stuttering again.

Was he… nervous?

As soon as the word appeared in his head everything started making sense, the nervousness jittering in his body shifting to panic. He didn’t need to breathe but he felt his chest stop and his memories turn to fuzz, his twitching hands falling back to his sides, still. Heat rushed over his cheeks, his mechanical joints aching like the bones they replicated as the colors in front of him began slowly merging into actual shapes in front of his eyes.

“Logan? Are you with me? Logan!” Virgil’s voice finally pulled him through the last of the haze, blinking rapidly to focus in on the concerned brown eyes in front of him. Virgil snapped again in front of his face, Logan reaching up a heavy hand to push it back down.

“Virgil… I—” He mumbled, the familiar classroom sending both a wash of relief and fear through him. His head hurt. That was what was wrong, and it didn’t seem to be going away.

“I know. Janus reset you, but he's a dumbass.” Virgil shook his head, Logan’s eyes catching the movement in a way he’d never really before. He noticed the way his face was sunken in, dark bags under bloodshot eyes and above a dry and cracked smile.

All in all, Virgil looked beat to hell and exhausted.

“Are you… back?”

“Yes, but… if he really reset me, then did I…?” Logan trailed off at the telling look on the engineering student’s battered face, shoulders slumping. “Oh no.”

“It’ll be okay as long as you find Patton now.” Virgil’s adrenaline appeared to be waning, him leaning heavily against the desk behind him. “Janus probably wanted to catch him after resetting you. I'm not sure how long ago that was.”

“I understand. But in the meantime, you should seriously consider a hospital.” Logan advised, a little unnerved by the wave of concern inside him.

Were emotions supposed to move this quickly? This strongly?

Virgil waved a dismissive hand, cracking a small smile at the easily-readable expression on the android’s face. “You go, I'll handle me.”

“Understood. Thank you, Virgil.” Logan said sincerely, turning and jogging out of the lab and back towards Professor Sanders’ classroom.

He still didn’t understand what was going on with him. He knew he was feeling, but none of that made any sense. When did this start to happen? How did his default become so… emotional?

He let the questions in his mind go unanswered as he frantically searched the hallway of students for any glimpse of Patton, spurred on by a squeezing anxiety that had him hearing a fast, artificial heartbeat in his ears.

He could worry about what all that meant later. For now, he needed to find Patton.

——

Finally slumping down to the floor as his weakened legs gave out, Virgil laughed to himself in the empty classroom. “Yeah… Roman’s going to kill me.”

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