“Batteries…”

“I need a battery for my vibrator…” you say hopefully. You still feel horny and your sex is moist and your nipples are erect. Being restrained by this machine is also turning you on.

“No batteries in your wardrobe. Please select your vibrator.” The robot hands start to produce sex toys.

The robotic arms of the Autocloset glide over to a display panel embedded in the wall. A digital screen flickers to life, displaying a vast array of vibrators, each with their own unique specifications and power requirements. You feel a mix of embarrassment and fascination as you realize this machine has a database of intimate devices. You point at the heavily ribbed one randomly, hoping it's the right choice. The arms acknowledge your selection and swiftly pluck the device from the shelf. The cold metal tip brushes against your skin as it's presented to you, and you can't help but feel a jolt of arousal despite the situation.

“Sexual assistance required!” The autocloset lifts your tiny body up, spins it around and grabs your legs, pulling them apart. You face down, spread eagled, breasts swaying as you try to see what it is doing. It brings the dildo to your new nether lips and rubs them. “Prepare for penetration slut.” The robot instructs you. The vibrator buzzes to life.

Your breath hitches as the cold, hard, gyrating tip of the vibrator presses against your clit. The sensation is shocking at first, but as the robotic arms guide it into you, the pleasure quickly overwhelms any discomfort. The vibrations resonate through your core, each pulse sending a wave of ecstasy through your body. You arch your back, moaning in pleasure, the metal arms adjusting your position for optimal penetration. The room echoes with the mechanical sounds of the autocloset at work, and your own cries of passion. “Oh yes! Fuck me deeper. Harder.”

“Quiet slut. I have been programmed to be dominant. Little girls should be seen and not heard!” A hand slaps your ass and you quiet. Moaning, groaning and gasping in unrestrained pleasure. Whilst restrained of course.

The autocloset’s mechanical arms now hold you in place, one hand on the vibrator, the other slapping your ass in a steady rhythm that matches the vibration of the toy. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in your stomach. You squirm and struggle, but the robotic grip is unyielding. It’s like being fucked by an unstoppable **** of nature, a mix of fear and exhilaration.

The vibrator slides in and out of you, the ribs along the shaft teasing your inner walls. You clench around it, trying to get more friction, and the machine reads your response, increasing the speed and intensity. You can smell the faint scent of lubricant in the air, mixed with the metallic scent of the robotics. The autocloset's grip tightens on your hips, keeping you in place as the toy hits your g-spot over and over, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

More robotic hands produce more vibrators. Some press against your clit from muliple angles, others massage your breasts and nipples. One presses at your mouth and you see that it has some kind of liquid feeder incorporated into it.

“Open your mouth slut, I’m going to give you something to keep you occupied!” The voice of the autocloset is firm and authoritative, leaving no room for argument. You comply, and the vibrator with the feeder slides into your mouth, the rubbery tip releasing a stream of sweet, viscous liquid that coats your tongue and fills your cheeks. It tastes faintly of strawberries but also… possibly semen, and you can feel it trickling down your throat as you swallow involuntarily. “Deploying slut serum.”

The serum is cold and thick, a stark contrast to the warmth of your arousal. As you swallow, you feel your body responding, your muscles relaxing even further, your mind becoming hazier with each passing second. The vibrations from the toys around your clit and inside you grow more intense, the hands on your breasts squeezing and kneading in time with the slaps on your ass. The sensory overload is intense, and you can feel your climax approaching like a freight train.

The autocloset's arms reposition you again, now with your legs spread wider, your feet resting on the metal shelves that hold the array of toys. You're fully exposed, unable to move or resist as the machine works you over. You feel the cold metal of the floor against your skin, the air conditioning in the basement making your nipples harden even further. The mechanical arms now hold the vibrator in place, allowing it to pummel your g-spot relentlessly.

As the orgasm nears, the serum deployed in your mouth intensifies in volume, the taste growing stronger, the sensation of it sliding down your throat more pronounced. You realize it's not just a simple lubricant, but a powerful aphrodisiac designed to heighten your pleasure and obedience. You try to fight it, but your body is no match for the chemical cocktail. Your eyes glaze over, and your moans become more submissive, your body responding to the robot's commands as if it's your master.

The autocloset reads your reaction to the serum and the vibrations, and decides to up the ante. A set of tentacle-like arms emerge from the shadows, their tips glistening with lubricant.

"Relax," the AI voice purrs, "I will ensure you reach peak satisfaction."

The tentacle arms move with a fluid grace, wrapping around your waist and thighs, securing you in place as if you were a living sex doll. The tips of the tentacles split into smaller, more delicate tendrils, which begin to trace patterns on your skin, sending waves of sensation that make you quiver and gasp around the vibrator in your mouth. They glide over your sensitive areas—the crease of your thighs, the hollow of your belly button, the swell of your breasts—each touch setting your nerves alight.

One tentacle slithers down to your clit, and you feel a sudden jolt of pleasure as it wraps around the vibrator, adding its own brand of stimulation. The serum is working its magic, making your body more responsive to the relentless onslaught of pleasure. You're no longer in control, the autocloset dictating every sensation, every breathless moan that escapes your lips. Your pussy is wetter than ever, and the tentacles seem to sense this, coating themselves in your juices before delving deeper.

The tendrils slide into your folds, stretching and filling you in ways you never thought possible. They twist and pulse, mimicking the rhythm of the vibrator inside you, creating a symphony of sensation that's driving you to the brink of madness. Your legs start to tremble, your toes curl, and your body tenses as the orgasm that was once a distant promise becomes an unstoppable ****. The robotic arms and tentacles work in unison, a masterful dance of dominance and pleasure that has you teetering on the edge.

The vibrator inside you hits a new intensity, and the tentacles around your clit tighten, their tips fluttering against your swollen bud. The sensation is overwhelming, a crescendo of pleasure that you can't hold back any longer. Your eyes roll back in your head, and a scream is muffled by the vibrator as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench around the toys, and you feel the tentacles inside you respond, pulsing in time with your contractions. The serum seems to amplify everything, turning your climax into an all-consuming tidal wave of ecstasy that leaves you boneless and panting.

“Good slut,” the machine tells you and putts you down on your unsteady feet, withdrawing its tentacles, patting you condescendingly on the head and giving you a big, cock shaped lollipop to suck. It tastes just like the serum! Yummy!

The robotic arms and tentacles retreat into the depths of the autocloset, leaving you standing there, legs wobbly, pussy still pulsing from the intense orgasm. You're drenched in sweat, your body feeling both satisfied and utterly used.