FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Alpha Version 1.00.01 Wanita: Hardware Located

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The hot dry New Mexico summer has given way to the relatively ‘cool’ night. In a town that has never seen better days, there’s a Western style bar called “The Whip” in the less savory part of this unsavory town. The neon signs that showed a dancer girl in high heeled cowboy boots, dancing along the pole flickers off.

Inside a slender beautiful anthropomorphic coyote dressed in a white latex halter with an alluring polished shine, exotic leather cowboy boots that go up to her knees, with teasing black lamb pants that show off her figure, “With that, its only to count the till and lock everything up.”

“Chao Wanita,” says one anthropomorphic female wolf co-worker dressed in scantily clad clothing and similar cowboy boots.

Wanita smiles, brushing her black hair away from her predatory amber eyes, “Later.”

“Luega,” waves a similarly dressed female green scaled anthropomorphic Fence Lizard, holding her purse close to her as she leaves.

A buff male black furred Doberman dressed in leather, muscles rippling, he helps usher the other ladies out, turning to the coyote, “You’ll be alright finishing up closing by yourself, Wanita?”

Wanita smirks, “Yeah, I’ve done it before, haven’t I? I’ll be fine. I want to make sure everything is in order before I head off for my trip.”

“Right, you start that tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it’s going to be great.”

“Have fun, you deserve it,” he says, stepping outside looking over at the other women leaving, “Take care and me voy a dar unas buenas vacaciones con Amiga.”

She smirks, leaning against the door frame, “Gracias. Make sure this place remains in one piece while I’m gone.”

He smirks, “You sound like you own the place.”

“I certainly do run it at least. See you later Diego,” she says, locking the door behind her, taking a slow deep breath, steadily releasing it, “Count the till, organize the notes for when I’m gone, do the boss’ job for the week before daybreak and then I can crash before my vacation. Easy,” she tells herself, getting to work, laser focused on her daunting task but with each passing moment her anxiousness to ‘get away’ from this place grows, swelling in the pit of her stomach and showing through her swishing tail.

She exits the back, looking over the raised bar/dance floor, poles polished, floors cleaned, “There is absolutely nothing that he could think of that I haven’t done to try to call me back here,” she thinks, giving one last quick check of the stock, “And one for the road,” she mutters, pouring herself a quick shot of a cucaracha. Enjoying the quick burn, washing the glass and heading out, wrapping herself in a leather trench coat to hide her sexual appeal and not draw any break before dawn attention.

She walks down the dirty streets, her predatory eyes constantly scanning for any danger, yet its hidden under a calm experienced demeanor, she pulls out her cell speed dialing her friend, speaking in her native Navajo, “Hey Mato. I’m giving you a heads up that later I’ll be coming to pick up my bike for that planned trip I spoke about the other week. I’ll see you once I’ve crashed. Thanks again for protecting my baby.” She slips the phone back into her coat pocket. She looks up at the street sign, “Cherry Tree Lane.” A smile cracks from her muzzle, “Almost Home.” The pace of her tail sway quickens, ears perking up, the repressed aches throughout her body, exhaustion, starting to catch up to her.

The drive to get home now pushes her on, turning down an alley between a convenience store and a currently closed fast food restaurant. Trash litters the area, the stench of the overstuffed dumpster that sits halfway down the alley is the only scent that can fight against the aroma of spicy chicken.

Movement from behind the dumpster catches her attention, fight or flight instincts kick in, ears fold back, ready to confront the bum or unsavory person ready to try to make a quick buck off her. It’s at this moment that the rules of reality that have defined her life were not only bent but completely broken. Her eyes widen, locked upon the being before her that defies the mind and her senses, her mind struggling so hard to grasp what is before her that she doesn’t even form the conscious thought of “This can’t be real.”

Sleek, slender, muscular with metallic six-pack plates, an anthropomorphic synthetic wolf that is crafted with such beauty as to be almost surreal. The orange body, with white chest, massive breasts with silver metal knocker piercings over black stiff and permanently erect rubber nipples. Black metal and rubber compose parts of her joints, with fierce yellow synthetic eyes, and brunette hair. Hints of organic nature but nothing about her was organic, pure machine. Catching a fraction of the light, is a sleek black knotted canine cock, out, ‘hard’ but not perked up, a strange ‘relaxed’ state that is beyond what should be possible, and those baseball sized balls looked very full and potent. All of this was not possible. The wolf grinned; the right side of her face is starkly different from the left with what would almost appear as an industrial patch over damage from an unknown source. Unpainted metal contrasting with the ruddy umber latex of her facial structure while the eye is replaced with several cybernetic lenses and sensors, which adds to the menacing glare.

Wanita's ears twitch, catching the report of faint whirring from this imposing figure, those sharp eyes only just catching the perfectly round tips of those nipples uncomfortably spinning open like the iris of a camera shutter to reveal the menacing red glows of something mechanical behind them. No time to think or react, the wolf springs her trap as those illuminations reveal themselves as the grappling-styled ends of twin black cables that now launch forth, coursing through the air with the elegance and ease of a butterfly, both heavy white latex breasts jostling as they uncoil their contents before sharply bouncing when the tentacles impact their target.

Twin pricks, one at the base of her skull, the other her neck, time slows in this instant, the alien sensation of a dozen thin hair-like tendrils spreading out from where those glistening black synthetic tentacles connect from her to the wolf. They slide deeper into her, latching onto her nervous system. Her hands twitch, muscles tensing, relaxing, thump, all within a single heartbeat. Nothing she can do makes her body move the way she wants it, wills it, a new Mistress over her body, the synthetic wolf is now in command.

The other tentacle’s tendrils wiggle through the sutures in her skull, the pain is quick, nothing past her skull is felt, but a blanket is being pulled over her mind, a gentle haze luring her in, “No, no. I have to fight it. I have to…” her consciousness slipping like going under for surgery, hitting the point of no return, where no amount of willpower, struggling, sheer determination could fight against the cold calculating strength of the machine.

The synthetic wolf smirks, watching the fight from the organic coyote’s eyes fade into a glaze haze, pupils dilating, body relaxed. “Target 215.1 acquired. Heart rate stable. Cortex synapsis stable. Remote control of motor functions at 99.98%” says the synthetic for no discernable reason, her voice starkly synthetic but sensual and smooth with a deep baritone that belays the impression of a female identity with a strong masculine foundation. ** ** Excitement fills the synthetic wolf’s programing, her algorithms providing a positive feedback loop that is physically expressed by her shiny black cock raising up to full attention.

The wolf steps closer now, hips swaying and shoulders dipping as she makes the approach in the most suave and seductive manner possible, wet-looking cables gently rewinding into her tits as the distance closes. Her mechanical hands come to rest on Wanita's own hips, thumbs hooking into the soft buttery leather as if to test the garment's strength. A low digital groan of sexual desire, one claw sliding around front to catch on the closure of the trousers and pop it open, the coyote's hijacked body cooperating as Wanita's hands move without her permission to assist in sliding those pants down just enough to reveal she lacks underwear...

The wolf now pressing even closer as that black synthetic cock is stuffed against the female sex of her prey. Efficient, direct actions come next as hyper-slick lubricant is ejected against the organic's anatomy, followed by the harsh thrusting of that cock inside to begin fucking the woman without hesitation for the environment and setting. The wolf saviors the moment, a well-earned reward from weeks of surveillance, calculations to make this moment become a reality.

The wolf’s knot as it swells pops into the coyote, growing to an impossible size, and successfully locking the two together as those perfectly round white robot balls clench with the following climax; jet black ropes of an almost liquid latex-like substance pouring into the coyote's body. It only lasts a few moments before that knot deflates and the wolf pulls back, wolf-prick still jerking as the last few jets of nanite cum spurt from its tip. Unnaturally and with a cool mechanical motion, the masculine spire smoothly retracts backward and into the creamy fat sleeve of her sheath, self-cleaning along the way and only just leaving the stark contrast of spade-shaped glans poking out from the tip. Wanita's hands unceremoniously pull her pants back up, belly buzzing with robotic activity as she then turns around to have the wolf place a hand on her shoulder.

“Preliminary analysis complete. Predicted compatibility at 85.31%” says the wolf, keeping her prize close to her, back in its ‘relaxed’ position, casually guiding Wanita out of town, taking the most efficient route that avoids detection from any of the residents. Organic behaviors and habits are so easy to figure and plan the best route after only a few weeks of observation. Everything is planned out to the last detail. The two disappearing over the horizon, the rising yellow sun, will blind any who may happen to look in their direction.

Wanita instinctively closes her eyes, a false flag that she has any control over her body and mind. Despite being blinded, she walks with a certainty. A remote-controlled organic husk guided a two hour walk from town, away from the roads into the dry cracked, cactus ridden desert. Toward a jagged rock formation called, “Devil’s Horn”. Brown and red rocks that are sheared from the earth into pointed peaks, a place where more than one unfortunate soul has departed this realm far too early in the search for adventure.

They casually approach one of the formations. If Wanita could think and memory was good enough, she’d swear that rock formation is thicker and larger, that is if she could. She stops just in front of the rock, the synthetic wolf’s cock hardens, three cables softly whir from her body, one from her cock tip, and one from each ball, latching onto the rock’s surface, a ripple from the points of contact hint at the true nature that’s before her.

The wolf makes contact with her ship, with the coldness that would send shivers through any organic’s spine, but the ship’s response to her was rather welcoming, a small piece of home away from home, “Requesting passcode… passcode accepted, access granted.”

The door’s whir open, opening a pathway to a new reality. One of bright lights, sleek black and silver metal interior, cables and wires hang from one point to the next. Was it because of the ship not being ‘completed’ or an organic sensibility of what is ‘complete’ is different? It’s hard to say.

They walk onto the ship, the wolf’s metallic feet clink against the ground, the door behind her sliding closed, leaving nothing but the perfectly camouflage rock formation. The wolf grows more excited with each step, her length twitching, rising up, “You’re too perfect. Only your organic nature is preventing you from reaching it. But…” she says, she runs a claw along Wanita’s chin, her blank mindless stare unchanging, her mouth hanging ajar, “Amazing what the limits of evolution can do, that will all change soon Wanita. You’ll be made better than ever before.”

There’s no reaction to the massive structure near the center of the ship. The hum of energy that flows through the thick cables that attach to the core structure with blue lights pulsating and a blinding white light interior, keeps Wanita from ‘seeing’ her final destination. Her tail sways in unison with the wolf that guides her forward, into the chamber where a dozen alcoves sit open. Thick cables attach to each pod, pumping energy

Inside each one is filled with cylindrical drums, humming lights, whirring of machinery and cables that hang from the ceiling. Sleek back metal and grey machinery waiting for someone, anyone to step inside. Beside each pod is a small holographic screen and cable ports waiting to be connected.

The wolf’s cables extend as Wanita steps forward into the pod. The moment she does the hum of energy grows louder, soft whirring of machinery becoming excited, energy building up so much it's felt in the air as fur stands up on end.

Wanita’s body quivers, her legs and arms spread, exposing herself to the tentacles with clawed tips that begin to strip her of her clothing. The trench coat is ripped off her, tossed down a chute, to be reprocessed to something more useful. Boots are slipped off, revealing more of her soft supple orange and brown furred body, the latex underwear is peeled away revealing her quivering sex, that drips of the black nanite ichor that has been injected into her earlier.

“It’s almost time. Can you feel it in the air? It’s rather exciting,” she says, cable ports at the base of her tail and shoulders open, connecting to the pod with small electrical sparks. She gasps, a hint of pleasure in her synthetic voice, her cock hard and twitching, eyes glowing brighter, *“Transferring remote control.” * The cables disconnect from Wanita’s body, leaving behind black metal ports in their wake.

“Uh…huh?” the haze over her mind, control over her body all lifted for just an instant, but like a booting computer it takes a moment for it to return to her, a whir of pod cables rush in to replace the ones left by the wolf, gently pulling Wanita back to the blissful haze, unaware of the world she’s about to be assimilated into. Each move she makes is not her own, simply what the machines want her to make, to make the start of the process easier. The last of her clothes are stripped away.

Thin silver monofilament tendrils drive deeper into Wanita’s mind, spidering out through her entire cerebral cortex worming its way deeper into her mind. Thick segmented black metal tentacles cables with a pointed tip snake and slither across her legs working their way up to her dripping black lubricated pink tender sex. Nanites churning and whirring within Wanita’s body, growing excited, drawing the cables to her hot vent.

The ship reports, “Commencing deep scan. Preparing the subject for conversion.”

The wolf gasps, a surge of information flooding into her, her positronic brain allowing her to sift through it in real time. Her eyes glowing even brighter, excitement growing, “There’s more to you, hidden underneath that organic exterior is the key for the perfect queen of this world.”

In this moment one of the thick cables coiling up Wanita’s leg finds its mark, her tight aching and dripping sex. It wiggles its way into her sex, pushing into the thick black nanite goo that has already been converting her womb into a nanite factory, spreading and converting her insides that would have eventually led to a cyborg conversion to the collective if left unattended… but here in the ship, she’ll get the proper treatment that she deserves.

Excess nanites flow out of her sex, spreading and spidering across her sex, consuming and converting organic material into something purer, more useful. A black metallic port forms around the edges of her sex, connecting to the synthetic womb core, the transformation spreading outward externally and internally at a steady controlled pace, converting organic bits with synthetic equivalents. The black cable within her sex dives in deeper, wiggling itself into Wanita’s body, finding itself a ‘home’ within her womb as it whirs itself in.

A silver metal spinal cord is perfectly crafted from the hidden pools of nanites that quickly construct whatever is needed to help guide and build Wanita into the perfect body in a quick and efficient manner. It is placed along her entire spine, latching onto her organic one, overriding every connection, monitoring and controlling her body from the waist down to ensure that nothing fails, no movement is out of place, and that her body is ready for further attachments, the organic to synthetic conversion spreading, the Coyote feels ‘nothing’ but her mind is fed with an euphoric utopia that keeps her in a pleasant state, the wires moving to each synapsis in her mind to get a perfect map of every connection, the scan of her mind continues to be compiled, much to the wolf’s delight.

Before that’s even complete other parts of her body are being reconstructed, two medium thick segmented cables snake their way down Wanita’s body, who appears to be lost in sexual ecstasy, arms held up in the air, moaning, pleasure derived from the machines around her adding layers of silver metal that will be part of the base of her new body. Two cables wrap around her throat, building a segmented throat that expands from the points of construction.

The medium sized tentacles have four prong suctions at the end with hair-thick needle points. They move straight for her nipples, the prongs latching onto her areola while the tentacle tips go right into her nipple ducts, sliding in as smooth as a lubricated dildo into a wet hole. Wanita’s breasts jiggle, her groans unrelated to what’s happening, as synthetic tentacle snakes wiggle and slide their way in. With each passing inch the coyote’s breasts grow, expand, the latches on her nipples becoming her new synthetic nipples and areola, the underlying orange metal skin expands across her growing breasts which gain a few cup sizes as the entire length of the tentacle cables make their new home within her bust, forming new connections, becoming part of her every expanding, pleasing, complex body in the midst of its reconstruction.

Metal orange plates are latches across Wanita’s chest; the segmented metal outlines a perfectly sculpted six-pack better than anything she could have achieved in her organic life. Her body is becoming stronger, better, machinery whirring around her, spreading its transformation across her form. Ten tentacles and wires moving specialized crafted pieces down to her body, replacing joints with silver metal and black rubber. The orange metal shine spreads across her body as more of her soft organic flesh is overtaken by the powerful machine. Her arms and legs spread, a face of pure ecstasy and lust expressed across her body and face. Her sex converted into an open port with black rubber lining and silver metal around, aching and ready to be completed by something big and heavy.

The synthetic wolf that brought her here grows more excited. Her body softly whirs, the cables twitch like her aching cock, her amber synthetic eyes glow, admiring every inch of her transforming body. Seeing each new joint and servo installed into her body, the silver metal under armor covered by the orange and black metal plates, with only select parts of silver around her hips and neck still being expressed, yet despite the pace of her transition there is still so much to do. Her eyes look at the open port between her legs, her knotted wolf dick twitches and aches, balls churning with nanite seed when her attention is brought to something even more vital and internal.

The ship coldly reports, “Internal scans complete.”

A shudder runs through the synthetic wolf, a sly grin creeps across her face, “It was a possibility but to have my algorithmic predictions confirmed? That feels so good,” she says to the oblivious coyote, looking into her glazed amber eyes, “Your frail organic mind could not handle the terrible realities this world has wrought upon you. Growing up in squalor, your chance to as your kind would put it, ‘get ahead in life’ is nothing but a hollow lie, where you sold your body to get by despite the aid of those above you that you’ve never met and never cared for you. That is all going to change. You’ll be the leader here, the center, the one that guides the people here to a better life. And your inability to handle it by yourself has given you the tools to become the queen that you are meant to be,” she speaks with a hint of admiration for her prey, her delight building.

In an instant she gives the ship the command, “Promote and install Master Drive Wanita Alpha Version 1.00.01 as primary and sole controller. Transfer all data to the primary drive.”

A split personality. It’s far more than simply putting on a friendly face for work, or feigning you like a family member. It's something that goes into the depth of Wanita’s mind. If she could speak right now, she couldn’t tell you when her other half was born, or if she even knew about it or vice versa.

The mysteries of Wanita’s mind solved in mere moments what would have taken scientists on this world generations to do. Memories, knowledge, all preserved, the connections diverted from one Wanita to the other. It’s not something she can fight against, or she strives towards. The machines working in the depths of her mind are simply doing what is best for the collective.

Wanita will not feel anything, know anything as she fades away with each passing moment. There are two lightbulbs within the coyote’s head and only one is going to get the power to keep it lit. Wanita’s primary ego, the one carried from birth is turned down, disappearing into the ever more powerful, domineering, alluring Wanita that got her through those tough times.

She would know everything about herself, understand the process that brought her to the forefront of control, she is gaining every memory, every thought, every relationship, loved one, dream, everything that made Wanita herself, is now part of the Wanita that has been kept at bay till absolutely necessary.

One could say it's an ouroboros consuming itself, only to find that the one consumed was merely a copy of her. Yes, that would be the best way to explain it to Wanita’s stronger growing Ego. A copy of her, a lesser but nonetheless important copy of who she is. Without her, she’d not exist, and for that, she’ll never forget, but there is no sadness or sorrow for the passing, after all, did she really disappear? Or simply become who she is meant to be?

“Primary Wanita Ego installed,” states the ship in a manner akin to installing a video game on a computer, rather one mind consuming itself to become what she is. But Wanita is not left unchanged. Her mind is being upgraded, enhanced, her thought processes quicker, her sexual drive growing, the machine knows exactly how to motivate and motivate they are to get her on board. Not that resistance would have ever crossed her mind.

Her positronic brain pulsates with energy, programs and information about herself, the new and true self is uploaded into her mind at breakneck speed that would have overloaded her organic mind within the first instant. But now? It seems a little slow.

Wanita is just now being allowed to gain control of parts of her body, feeling the last vestiges of her organic flesh get converted over. Her ears twitch, becoming metallic orange, with hexagonal segment plates, with a black backside. Her black flowing, lovely hair, changed. The strands reinforced, the keratin is replaced with synthetic nanite strands that won’t break, frazzle and always look wonderful, to keep a hint of organic nature, but further more to keep her sex appeal at its height.

Metal plates find their resting parts, coming across her face, building the exterior of her muzzle, the organic Wanita now nearly completely gone as what is organic is quickly consumed and converted. The whites of her eyes turn black, the amber of her predatory eyes become fierce, ready, strong, a higher being on the food chain, the true top predator. Her pink tongue slides out of her mouth, licking her teeth one last time before sleek black rubber infused nanites cover it, becoming as reflective as the rest of her body. Her excitement grows, knowing what is about to be installed, a key component that will make her who she is.

The cock, perfect shiny black segmented metal with a pair of heavy balls underneath is the sprocket that fits into her perfectly designed socket. The black nanite goo that remains inside of what was her womb and vaginal walls helps build and lock into the connection, sending a surge of pleasure, her heavy balls churn, flooding with energy, whirring to life. The tentacles within her balls move and shift, floating in a thick black fluid of nanite seed, which drips from the divot of her knotted cocktip.

Wires attach to Wanita’s body. Nanite infused liquid rubber flows towards the machine’s body, covering the spaces between the armor plates, and between silver metal, creating a protective barrier inside and out. Her black metal upper arms and hands shift and move, Wanita seeing them, feeling them, enjoying the first glimpse of her new body. Her HUD expresses information and communication with the ship, which reports, “ Unit Wanita Alpha 1.00.01 95.32 percent. Initiate system diagnostics and testing.”

Thick cables attach to her nipples, providing a surge of power, other cables still attached to her back ports, the ones at the base of her tail, each surge of energy makes her body twitch, a moan escapes her lips, her sharp metallic teeth shine in the light. Her red glowing eyes look at the synthetic wolf with hungry eyes, as a suction pump wraps around her twitching, aching length.

The wolf tensed, a surge of energy through her, the coyote being remade in an image greater than herself. A magnum opus crafted before her, “You are perfection made before me,” she says with a sexual grow underneath, cock twitching, her body wanting, aching desiring her new queen, the one that will dominate this world and add it to the collective.

Wanita moans, “This power, beauty, strength,” she says with a powerful, sensual, deep baritone voice, but clearly feminine, a perfect synthetization of her original voice, but still nonetheless artificial.

Her powerful hips thrusts into the milking machine that wraps around her length, squeezing and milking her powerful rod. The rubber begins to settle in the crevices between her orange metal plates, hiding the last wires, and anything that exposes her wired insides, crafting smooth metallic and rubber perfection. Her balls churn, and grow heavy, nanite production booting up, her thick black nanite goo dripping from her length, sucked right out, processed and tested for their potency and any imperfections in the infectious, self-replication nanites, designed to prepare the next unsuspecting organic for the same glorious fate as her.

Information about the collective floods into her mind, uploaded becoming part of her massive databanks. A synthetic collective, heavily leaning toward lupine creatures, based on the home world where these machines were first made. They search, find, spread, infect, creating more like themselves. Sometimes they find new species they keep as is, while others are converted into wolf drones, males, females, the line between. Sexual pleasure, positive reinforcement, engrained to propagate the collect, have it spread, grow, with only one simple goal. To assimilate everyone into the collective one way or another.

Wanita feels the euphoria of the moment, another gush of hot nanite seed shoots from her cocktip, “I’ve been freed from my mortal coil. Uplifted to a higher being,” she growls, groaning the pump machine straining against her powerful thrusts, “There is so much that can be done, but…” she says, looking at the wolf.

She returns the gaze, her excitement painted all over her face, her body quivering in pleasure, delight, lust, wanting to have her new creation before her, to let her take command. She was never meant to lead and take over the world. Simply to hunt for the one that could do the job far better than she ever could, and dream given form, Wanita stands before her, ready to take the next step over conquest over this world.

Wanita’s dominating presence grows, almost breaking the machine pumping her length, she takes the time to monitor and study herself, running her claws across her massive smooth chest, shuddering when her claws run across her nipple ports, touching the cables currently connecting with the cables within her. She feels so much more than just another machine, another drone part of the collective. “This was not expected, not even in my wildest dreams from either her or myself. We’re one, together. I am here, to protect, grow, to achieve what I want,” she says, the pump pulling away from her length, the ship reporting.

“Analysis complete. Subject Wanita Alpha Version 1.00.01 is complete.”

The cables attached across her form disconnect, the flow of energy into her body ends, leaving her body tingling with strength, yet wanting more. She looks over herself, admiring every smooth perfection, looking up in the general direction of the ship’s voice, “I know I am, and I am perfect, and it will be my pleasure, to make this world as perfect as me,” she says with a domineering growl, licking her lips, her body shines, reflecting the world around her, the rubber between each joint, bends, compresses yet, remains perfectly smooth, not marking her perfection. Her claws run along the sides of the ship, attuning to the feel and sensation of her new body, that is beyond what one can see.

She feels the cables within her body, eager, ready to slide out, latch onto her next victim or be used to connect to the ship. The depth of her balls and internal systems, producing nanites, countless numbers of them ready to gush into the next organic, flood them with her essence, priming them for the next step in their existence. A conscious realization of what her program wants, pushing her to do, “I think we could have a lot of fun in this world. Spreading, changing, drawing people in with our perfection,” she says, reaching out, running a single claw along the underside of the wolf’s muzzle.

The sexual tension in the air could be cute with a knife, the twitching black cocks growing closer to one another. Wanita’s larger, more powerful, the perfect mix of masculine strength, and feminine beauty all wrapped into one perfect package. The synthetic wolf could not believe the level of luck she had when the hidden personality was found within her target, not fully knowing just what she is about to unleash onto this world. Their gazes are locked, cock tips kissing one another. The wolf withdraws her cables from the pod, which powers down, the hum of energy lessening.

Snatch, snatch, the wolf’s nipple cables are grabbed in the air by Wanita’s. The coyote’s nipple snakes coil and grasp onto the wolf’s tentacles, who moans out in delight, feeling the prowess of the coyote asserting her dominance over her. Cock twitching in delight, black nanite seed pooling in her own davit, slowly spilling over to drip onto the metallic floor.

Wanita leans in close, the nipple tentacles making a connection to her fellow machine. The synthetic wolf connecting to her, or to better put it, she is connecting with her. “I just want to thank you. For the best night of my life,” she states in a soothing and alluring voice, drawing the wolf in closer, the single claw tip pressing up on her chin, tilting her head up. The coyote licks her lips, enjoying the quivering mass of the machine before her. Admiring her masculine-feminine beauty. She, herself has strength, power, confidence, but there’s a want within the wolf.

A want to be taken, commanded, led by someone stronger. An Alpha. The drive within her fellow machine to create her, is felt through every fiber optic of the wolf’s being, and the excitement within her is palatable. There is no need for romance, no words need to be spoken between them.

But Wanita is not one to let a good moment escape her. Carpe Diem, seize the moment, is also Carpe Lupus. And she’s ready to truly show her appreciation to her new friend.