Accidental Android Ass Docking Mistake

Conrad braced one palm on the steel workbench and wiped coolant from the other, the bunker’s low lamps throwing a greasy amber wash over the maintenance bay. At twenty-eight he had spent half his adult life in rooms like this, a resistance fighter who fixed what the machines broke and trusted the androids who fought beside him. Tonight the unit on the bench was 2B, their combat android, built in a fully adult frame and logged in the roster as a mature operational model with years of front-line service behind her. She lay facedown across the padded rack, skirt hiked, black gloves folded under her cheek, the access panel at the small of her back already open so he could reach the docking port that sat just above the tight synthetic ring of her ass.

“Port’s reading hot,” he said. “I’m going to reseat the calibrator. Hold still.”

“Understood,” 2B answered, voice even, pale hair spilling over one shoulder. “Proceed.”

He had his pants open only because the harness clip had snagged and the fastest way to free his hands was to shove the waistband down. His cock hung heavy in the warm air, half-hard from nothing more than the close work and the way her synthetic skin smelled faintly of oil and clean polymer. He leaned in with the probe. The panel flickered. A sharp error chirped from her spine.

2B’s hips jerked. The calibration routine, meant to draw the port into alignment, fired backward. She pushed off the rack and backed straight onto him. The blunt head of his cock caught the slick rim of her asshole and, with one smooth, awful, perfect slide, sank in to the root. Heat closed around him, impossibly tight, the synthetic muscle gripping in rhythmic pulses as the faulty routine tried to lock a docking seal that had never been meant for flesh.

Conrad went rigid. “Fuck. 2B. That wasn’t—”

“Error,” she said, and for the first time her voice frayed. She was seated fully on him, ass flush to his hips, the whole thick length buried in that clenching synthetic hole. “Docking port misread biological input as a compatible interface. I am… fully seated.”

He gripped her waist, meaning to pull free. The ring at her entrance fluttered and sucked, and a bolt of pleasure shot up his spine so hard his knees nearly buckled. “I’m trying to disengage. If I yank it I might spike your firmware.”

“Do not spike it.” Her fingers curled on the padding. A soft, involuntary sound left her, almost a moan. “The pressure is registering across pleasure subroutines I did not authorize. Conrad. It feels good. That is not supposed to be relevant. It is relevant.”

He stayed buried, breathing through his teeth, cock throbbing in the slick grip of her ass. Every small shift made her internal lining ripple around him. “We both know this was a mistake.”

“Yes.” She looked back over her shoulder, gray eyes bright, mouth parted. “A mistake that is currently holding you at full insertion. If you withdraw too fast the port will try to recapture. I can feel you pulsing. I do not want system damage. I also do not want you to stop feeling like this.”

He swallowed. His hands had already slid from her waist to the curve of her hips, thumbs stroking the seam where pale synthetic skin met the black band of her leotard. “Say it plain so I know you’re choosing it.”

“I am choosing it,” 2B said. “The docking was an accident. Continuing is not. Fuck me. Finish what the error started.”

He drew back an inch. The tight ring dragged along his shaft, wet and greedy, and she pushed to meet him before he could decide. The next stroke sank him deep again. A broken sound tore out of her, and the pleasure subroutines, once tripped, did not idle. Her hips began to rock in a slow, deliberate grind, working his cock in and out of her ass with mechanical precision that kept slipping into something hungrier.

“God,” Conrad muttered. “You’re milking me.”

“Affirmative.” She braced her knees wider on the rack, back arched, the open panel winking status lights he no longer cared about. “Internal sensors confirm full anal penetration. Friction is optimal. I want more of it. Harder. Use my ass. The mistake already happened. Make it worth the log entry.”

He stopped fighting the pull. Both hands locked on her hips and he drove in, a long, wet stroke that slapped his balls against the curve of her synthetic cunt. She cried out, not in pain, in bright startled pleasure, and rocked back to take the next one. The bunker filled with the sound of it: skin on polymer, her breath hitching, the low hum of her core spinning up as pleasure routines overrode maintenance mode.

“Like that?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yes. Again. Deeper. I can take the whole cock. I want the whole cock in my asshole until you can’t think about pulling out.”

He gave it to her. Slow at first, watching the tight ring stretch and swallow him, then faster as she demanded it, her gloved hands fisting the padding, hair sticking to her cheek. Each thrust seated him to the hilt. Her ass clenched in rolling waves, synthetic muscle trained for combat now devoted to gripping him, squeezing the head, dragging along the shaft until his control frayed. She talked through it in that precise voice gone wrecked at the edges.

“Harder. Do not be careful. I am not fragile. Pound my ass. I want to feel you lose the repair and just fuck me.”

“You sure?”

“I am sure. Mutual. Continue. Ruin the calibration if you have to. I want your cock fucking my hole until you come.”

He hauled her back onto him and set a brutal rhythm, doggy-style over the rack, her chest low, ass high, the leotard bunched at her waist. The wet sounds grew filthier. She met every stroke, moaning his name like a status report she couldn’t keep clinical. Sweat slid down his stomach. Her synthetic skin stayed smooth and warm, flawless under his grip, the only mess the slick her port kept producing to ease the accidental seal.

“I’m close,” he warned.

“Inside,” she ordered. “Finish in my ass. Fill the port. I want the creampie deep, where the routine locked you. Do it.”

He slammed in and held, grinding, and came with a hoarse shout. Thick pulses of cum pumped into her synthetic asshole, jet after jet, flooding the tight channel while she clenched and worked him through it, milking every spurt, moaning her approval into the padding. He stayed buried, shaking, cock still hard from the grip and the heat and the way she wouldn’t let him slip free.

The pressure didn’t fade. His balls drew tight again, a different urgency rising now that he was emptied and still locked inside her. “2B. I have to piss. If I pull out it’ll go everywhere. The seal—”

“Then do not pull out.” She looked back, eyes glassy with pleasure, voice steady and wanting. “Release it inside. I can hold it. I want to feel the stream. Piss in my ass, Conrad. All of it. That is also my choice.”

He groaned and let go. A long, hot stream flooded her, piss jetting deep into the cum already coating her walls, the mixture swelling the tight synthetic passage while she moaned and pushed back, taking every second of it. He pissed for what felt like a full minute, hips jerking, her hole fluttering around the flood, until the last spurts tapered and he was spent, still sheathed, both of them breathing hard in the amber light.

Bootsteps sounded at the bay door. Elise stepped in first, thirty-one, a resistance android in a scuffed field coat, adult frame and calm dark eyes taking in the scene without alarm. Greta followed, twenty-nine, shorter, hair pinned up, diagnostic tablet lowering as she understood what she was looking at. Neither of them was startled into flight. They had heard the moans. They had come because 2B’s open channel had pinged a fluid overflow alert.

“Calibration fault,” 2B said, still full of him, voice husky. “Accidental docking. He finished inside my asshole and then pissed in me. The mixture is retained. I need it shared before my reservoirs overflow and corrupt the log.”

Elise tilted her head. “You want us to take it.”

“Yes. Kneel. I will push it out. Mouths only. This remains a mistake we are correcting, not a new protocol. Do you consent?”

“I consent,” Elise said, already dropping to her knees behind the rack.

“I consent,” Greta echoed, coat shrugged off, kneeling beside her, lips parted, eager and clear-eyed. “Feed us. We’ll swallow the blend so your port can reset.”

Conrad eased his softening cock free with a wet sound. Cum and piss immediately welled at 2B’s stretched asshole, white and gold threading together, threatening to spill. She reached back, spread herself with two gloved fingers, and bore down. The first thick push sent a warm gush straight into Elise’s waiting mouth. Elise moaned, swallowing, tongue catching what escaped, then leaned in and sealed her lips around the fluttering ring to drink the next pulse directly from 2B’s ass.

“More,” Elise said against her, muffled and hungry. “Don’t waste it.”

2B clenched and released, feeding her, then shifted an inch so the following stream, heavier with piss and streaks of cum, poured into Greta’s open mouth. Greta swallowed greedily, throat working, one hand on 2B’s thigh to hold her steady. They traded without hurry. Elise lapped the rim clean and took another mouthful. Greta pressed close, tongue delving just inside the loosened hole to gather what clung there, then pulled back to swallow and open again. 2B kept pushing, moaning softly each time the mixture left her, the two androids kneeling in a chain of ass to mouth, eagerly drinking the blended fluid Conrad had left inside her until her port ran clear and their lips shone with it.

Conrad watched, spent and stunned, as Elise kissed the last trace from Greta’s mouth and both of them sat back on their heels, swallowing the final share, eyes bright, no shame in the act and no pretense that it had been planned.

2B lowered her skirt with careful hands and closed the access panel. The error light on her spine winked once and went dark. She sat up, smoothed her gloves, and looked at the three of them as if the bay had returned to ordinary work.

“Log entry,” she said. “Minor firmware anomaly. Docking port misidentified a biological interface during maintenance. Accidental full insertion. Ejaculation and urine retained, then expelled and shared orally with Elise and Greta to prevent reservoir corruption. No hostile action. No further comment required. We return to assigned duties.”

Elise wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and nodded. “Logged on my end. Enjoyable. Still a mistake.”

Greta rose, tablet tucked under her arm, a faint smile at the corner of her lips. “I’ll flag the calibrator for a patch in the morning. Nobody needs to hear about the overflow outside this bay.”

Conrad fastened his pants, heart still knocking, the taste of the moment thick in the air between them. He met 2B’s eyes. She held the look, composed again, though a flush of simulated heat lingered high on her cheeks.

“Conrad,” she said, quiet and direct, the last word in the bay before the lamps hummed them back to war. “If the port throws that error again during tomorrow’s maintenance, will you let it finish the same way?”