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It didn’t seem impossible for him to take his mind off of how he’d hurt Leela. And for the most part, it wasn’t even literally possible— the chip altering the functioning of his emotional sensation circuits and tuning them to Leela’s sensibilities made him only think of her pain.
Even while she was out clubbing with Amy he’d mirrored the sense of loneliness and dread she felt when her obvious sadness deterred the other clubgoers from approaching her.
If she was allowed to take her mind off of her issues, why couldn’t he do the same? He was surprised he’d even given the idea a second thought.
Bender’s first idea was to turn the switch himself. He couldn’t stand the feeling of being attached to Leela’s emotions anymore— it was too messy, too vulnerable for his tastes. He grabbed the Professor’s screwdriver left haphazardly on the break room table and cranked it until he couldn’t feel Leela’s melancholy anymore.
The nightlife scene in New New York wasn’t always stellar, but the robosexual bars were always your first choice to hit up. It was difficult to find a place with stellar ambiance that also encouraged humans and robots to mingle and dance publicly. Most places merely allowed them, but you’d get some weird stares. It’s quite hard to believe this prejudice isn’t outlawed already.
At the counter, relaxing over a horribly boozy drink with a Slurm mixer that nearly exploded every time you took a sip, you sat alone until someone metallic and intriguing slid up beside you.
Bender had no idea what he was doing at a robosexual establishment either— just enjoying the nightlife and doing something wild enough to take his mind off of his problems at work.
“You know, I don’t usually even go for humans…” He drawled, unusually suffering the blight of drunkenness.
“What are you doing at a robosexual bar then? Are you a cop?” You asked, half joking, half flirting.
“Far from it, baby. I don’t think you’ve ever met a bigger scofflaw.”
He seemed awfully sure of himself. Moving in closer to you, he started downing another dark brown bottle of liquor.
“My name’s Bender. I don’t even think I need to know yours.”
You look him up and down, trying to instill some sense of courtesy in him until you notice the strange green flashing bit on the right side of his cranium.
You finger it.
“What’s this?” You ask, breathing straight liquor into his face.
“Part of some stupid science experiment that helps me feel other people’s emotions.”
The alcohol had long since gone to your head at this point. Unclassy, rude, chauvinistic, and stubborn. If it were from a human, you would have excused yourself already. But something about this robot intrigued you from the moment he slunk his arm around you, nearly feeling you up in the process. Either that or trying to take something out of your purse. From his demeanor, probably both.
“Can you feel mine right now?”
You bring your hand to it gently.
“Hmm, I think it has to be calibrated or something…”
Just as he began to speak, the exposed circuitry began to fizz. He began to feel something new, but the booze was so strong it didn’t seem to make much of a difference.
You clear your throat.
“What are you doing that for?!” He shouts, nearly swiping your hand away from it.
“I know it’s tempting, but hands off, hon.”
You blink at him minxishly.
Suddenly, a new feeling began to stir deep within Bender’s wiring. Something Leela hadn’t exposed him to yet.
He had to categorize it as arousal.
Arousal? Now? Already? He had so many questions.
“Hmm… normal meatbags get upset or mad when they get yelled at, but… I’m getting something different from YOU…”
His glowing eyes narrow at you menacingly, and you feel perspiration trickle down your hot neck.
“Hah… embarrassment now?”
You frown at him.
“You’re reaaaal dirty for this, you know? I think you’re even worse than a hookerbot.”
His head nearly spins.
“Oh God, you’re really enjoying this…” He groans, clearly trying to fight his feelings.
It’s an interesting paradox; his outbursts of flustered brashness lead to more arousal, which he ends up feeling, which leads to even more flustering.
He’s determined to control the situation. Unfortunately, that only makes it worse for himself.
“You know, my car’s in the parking lot.”
Within a minute, minus the drunken giggling, you’ve stumbled out of the starry establishment and traipsed towards your car, parked by a bush behind the back exit.
He could barely keep his hands off of you outside, but the moment you’ve collapsed onto the backseat he’s all over your body— touching, squeezing, rubbing, stroking, gliding his metal digits all over all the sensual parts that make you a human woman.
“Oh, fuck, yeah, baby…” He utters, dipping his hands into the neckline of your top and feeling your breasts.
“God…” You can feel your own passion, but you can’t even imagine his own pleasure on top of what you know he’s feeling from the chip. It was part of what excited you about robots— the exhilarating uncertainty of the machine.
Nearly drooling on him, you stop to make a confession.
“I’ve never had sex with a robot before.”
He halts for a moment.
“ Never ? This just keeps getting better. I get to break you in nice.”
You’re positive the car has started rocking back and forth by now, but you just can’t bring yourself to care.
His fingers dip into your panties.
“Real slick, even more than before.”
“You’ll never want human dick again.”
He urges a robotic finger into you languidly, and quickly starts pumping it in and out. It’s cool to the touch and the perfect girth for you to grind against, albeit a little hard to grip.
“Holy shit…”
Just when you’re starting to arch your back against the dingy backseat upholstery, he pushes his thumb to the slight protuberance of your clit. To your delight, it begins to vibrate.
It’s difficult to last long when the person you’re fucking has a built in sex-toy. You try to grab onto him, wrapping every sweaty limb against him to keep him close. The delightful marriage of flesh to metal (he’d give you some asinine ratio of his alloys if you asked, you’re certain) unfortunately entails that things become slippery when wet. To an onlooker, it would almost seem like he’s wrestling you into the seat.
You clench around his digit as you come, and he shudders in a roaring burst just as you do.
“Damn, baby. Now I kinda don’t wanna take this thing out,” He scoffs as he sparks up a cigar.
“You’re gonna make my car reek with that thing,” you gripe a little, but you’re too exhausted to make him quit it.