I submit to the inevitable.

After a few minutes you settle down and are able evaluate your position.

"I am trapped in a robots embrace..."

Ultimately, there is ****. It's inevitable. After all, the mannequin has infinite patience: It can wait until the end of time, and you cannot.

You sigh, resigning yourself to your fate.

You tentatively poke your tongue into his mouth, feeling his lips, his teeth, and his tongue. Everything feels warm, wet, squishy... like a human would.

Just then you realize: You are French kissing a machine!

Thank you.

The mannequin's motions start up again, but this time he's more gentle. Jack relaxes his grip on your head and leg. This allows you to relax a bit.

And then, after a minute, with your tongue in his mouth and his tongue in yours...

You discover you're kissing him in earnest.

You are kissing a mannequin. You are doing tongue-sies with a robot!

And... you're enjoying it??

Is it you, not him that's actually holding your mouths together as you kiss? You place a hand on his neck. Meanwhile, his hand drops from the back of your head and reaches down to grab a breast instead.

"Oh! Uhn!" you whimper, squirming with pleasure, as his fingers find and pinch your nipples.

How is a machine able to do this?? You think of all of the sex booths you could open with this technology!

Because, you have been completely subdued by a machine. Your mind has gone from panic to enjoyment.

Coming off four days of training, in your weakened mental state, feeling **** and presenting as a woman fully for the first time in your life... with all that... this is easily the most intense experience you have ever had.

Just then the mannequin stops everything and relaxes his arms down to his sides.

"What?" you ask.

"Please, Jennifer," he looks up at you. "I need your help with a problem I'm having."

He shifts his hips to give you the idea of exactly what 'problem' he's talking about.

"Oh!" you squeak as you slip off his lap, falling with a *bump*! onto the floor.

You rub your behind. Fortunately, the padding of the surprisingly helpful rubber pants has cushioned your fall.

The mannequin places his hands on his thighs. His legs are already slightly spread apart (and, bolted to the floor -- so they can't move).

You look at his crotch and notice that distinctive bulge. You stare at it and lick your lips.