Hard at work.

For a time, it didn't seem like they would answer or appear as you scanned the recesses of your mind. But as soon as you called for them again, the white cloud lit up all around you. 'Yes, Master. We are here. Forgive us. We were continuing our research on your stimuli: augmenting your nails into weaponry, perfecting the subliminal aspects into your voice, and adjusting your vocal cords for this "Canary Cry." Recently, with the DNA of one called "Poison Ivy," we are logging away the ability to increase your pheromone generation for a later time. With your permission, of course.'

'Why not? Go ahead...' you tell them sadly. 'As of now, I'm taking a kind of vacation: no more girls, no more Justice League for a while.'

'Acknowledged. We shall continue as you requested.' And so they did. As you continue meditating, you look back on everything that's happened: Dr. Johnson's formula, that you can now release in small amounts; Miss Moen's subliminal sounds that the nanites are working silently on; not to mention pleasuring and fucking a lot of women in only a few days. And due to some of their biologies, your robots can be stronger in sunlight, will let you plant ideas in their minds, and arouse them. And you still weren't sure if plowing Wonder Woman or Zatanna will give you their powers into your body. But your upcoming personal physical powers aren't the most important things on your mind...

'How could things have fallen so hard?' you mope.