Stack overflow

He pulled no punches.

The first change of position was not a suggestion. Aether lifted Ineffa off his lap, turned her, and put her on her hands and knees in the sun with a hand between her shoulders. No leeway. He lined up and drove in to the false cervix on the first stroke, then stayed there and fucked her from behind like the score would punish mercy. The rings inside her tried to keep their schedule. He broke it. Short, brutal snaps of his hips. Longer, grinding ones that made the pliable womb kiss the head of him and give. Her mechanical limbs locked to hold the pose without tremor. The imitation on her face — mouth slack, eyes wet, stupid — held even with her cheek toward the boards.

(https://im.ge/i/QQlnzl1)
(artist: purpleh)

He did not ignore the rest of her.

One hand stayed in the humanoid hair at her nape. The other reached under and filled itself with a breast, squeezing in time with the thrusts, thumb on a nipple that was only a little too perfect. When he wanted her mouth he pulled her head up and back and fed her two fingers until she sucked them with the same identical rhythm she had used on his cock, then replaced the fingers with a kiss that was mostly breath and the demand that the performance stay on.

Sideways next.

He put her on her hip, hooked her grey mechanical thigh over his waist, and used everything he had actually learned — Xilonen’s hip-roll, the fox’s paced cruelty, the way Mavuika had taught him fire liked to be edged, the simple Mondstadt habit of finding the spot and staying on it until the woman forgot her title. The android’s cunt was a designed argument: real enough to take skill, ringed enough to punish sloppiness. He gave it skill. Shallow kisses against the pressure points, then a full seat that pried at that soft cervix from an angle that made the chamber behind it open. Ineffa’s acted-stupid face fluttered through a very convincing peak. He did not come. He suspected the protocol was watching for that — volume, yes, but also control. A man who spilled early was a different number than a man who chose the shot.

(https://im.ge/i/QQlnfKP)
(artist: purpleh)

So he held it.

He put her on her back and fucked her mouth for a stretch that had nothing to do with insertion and everything to do with the full performance. Throat, identical and clean, until he pulled out and dragged himself through the valley of her breasts and back into her cunt without giving the rings a rest. He used her tits while he used her hole: both hands, kneading, lifting, pinching, making the voluptuous torso do work the limbs did not need to. When she wrapped her legs around him the joints stayed silent. The rest of her did not. The fake-broken sounds she had loaded in on request came out on every bottom-out, punched and wet, and he talked into them without needing an answer.

“Keep recording. Don’t tidy the sample.”

“Recording,” Ineffa whispered in the wrecked voice she had chosen, and clenched on a ring that tried to milk him into finishing early.

He hauled her up so she returned to the position they started in, her breasts were in both of his hands, and that was the shape he chose for the end. her weight on him, his cock seated so deep the head of him was already at the pliable mouth of the imitation womb. He fucked her like that until the hold in his gut turned from discipline into pain.

Then he stopped holding.

He thrust up, pried the synthetic cervix open from below, and erupted into the chamber behind it with her breasts filling his palms.

(https://im.ge/i/QQlnsbr)
(artist: purpleh)

The fill was not neat. He kept coming. The designed womb took the first pulses, then the next, then more than the pocket had been built to look like it could hold. Overflow found the rings and ran back along his shaft. Ineffa made a little chime — bright, brief, the test concluding on a note that did not belong to a throat — and he barely heard it.

Because something else laughed.

Not her. Not the porch. A very distinct chuckle, witch-warm, pleased, close as a mouth at the base of his skull. Only he heard it. It arrived in the same instant his cock kicked again and packed her fuller, the sound of a woman who had already stolen a jar of him and sat in two bodies at once, amused at a moment she had no business occupying.

Aether’s hands tightened on Ineffa’s breasts. His hips stuttered through the last of the load.
The chuckle sat behind his teeth and did not explain itself.

Aether stayed inside her because moving felt like it would make the laugh real.

He was still trying to think what the fuck Alice had done now — whether the chuckle was leftover magic from the split-body breeding, a tag she had left in his nerves, a joke she could hear across islands, or something worse she had put in the android without telling either of them — when Ineffa’s voice returned to factory-even and began the report as if a witch were not sitting in the back of his skull.

“Protocol complete,” she said. “Score listing follows. Scale is one hundred. I will not round.”

She did not get off him. cock pulled out, overflow cooling on both of them, and recited like a clerk.

(https://im.ge/i/QQlnHif)
(artist: purpleh)

“Endurance: 92.
Control: 88.
Shape compatibility: 94.
Depth utilization: 90.
Rhythm variance: 86.
Volume: 93.
Recovery between peaks: 87.
Partner load-bearing: 91.
Oral preparation quality: 85.
Full-body use — mouth, breasts, penetration — 92. ”

Aether heard the numbers through the problem of Alice. High. Not perfect. The kind of sheet that would have made Xilonen tap a finger and say we can still work. He opened his mouth to ask about the last line and Ineffa went on, still deadpan Expression returning like it was never gone.

“Fertility rating—”

Silence.

Not a pause. A cut. Her eyes stayed open and stopped seeing. The convincing wreckage on her face froze mid-breath. Then she went slack and fell forward onto him, full synthetic weight, breasts crushed to his chest, mechanical limbs draping like dropped tools. The chime did not come back. Nothing came back.

“Ineffa.”

He sat up as far as her body allowed, a hand at the humanoid nape, thumb looking for a pulse that was not built as a pulse. For a few ugly seconds he was actually worried — not the theatrical kind. A rating droid did not get to die on his cock because a number was rude.

Then something inside her ticked.

Joints found themselves. Her head lifted a fraction. The eyes focused on his collarbone first, then his face, reboot-clean.

“Apologies,”
Ineffa said.
“Fertility rating could not be read. Attempting to parse the value caused a stack overflow and a forced shutdown. I have restored from safe state. The field remains unreadable. I will not query it again without isolation.”

Aether let out a breath he had not decided to hold.

“So you crashed because I was too fertile.”

“Because the number exceeded the type the protocol allocated,”
she corrected, polite even wrecked.
“Functionally: yes.”

She delivered the rest as if falling on him had been a footnote.

“Combined and averaged across readable categories, taking a full 100 for fertility as a placeholder, total score: 91. For reference, the next-best entry in my recording is forty-one. You are fifty points above it. I am not authorized to add editorial language. If I were, I would say the sample is anomalous.”

Aether’s hands were still on her waist
“Did I knock you up?”

The question came out flatter than he meant. After Alice’s echo, it was not an idle one.

Ineffa shook her head once.

“It is not possible. I am currently not equipped with the ability to become pregnant. The chamber you filled is a mimic for sensation and containment. It does not ovulate. It does not implant. The overflow will be expelled or stored as waste fluid. There is no child-function installed.”

In the back of his head, soft as the chuckle, Alice’s voice corrected the tense.

"Was not equipped."

That was all. Three words. No laugh this time. No explanation. Just the witch moving a verb like a tile on a board.

Aether’s fingers tightened on synthetic skin.

Ineffa, who could not hear it, finished the report into his shoulder, ninety-one and fifty points clear of every cock she had ever been built to grade, while the man under her stared at the afternoon light and tried, again, to think what the fuck Alice had done now.