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Overcharged and Executed

By: Veronica Foxx

For: Technophile91

The Zangoose doll strode the stage in front of her, making noises with its facehole, but the Pikachu could care less what was being said. She knew that she should care, but she couldn't find any available processing threads that could be put to the task. Her eyes and mind were focused on the white-furred rump that swayed slightly as the animatronic Pokemon paced from one end of the platform to the other and back, the red stripe that seemed to sensuously twist and unfurl between its breasts. She knew that her thoughts should lie on other things, but the corruption that had crept into her programming would not allow it.

The Pikachu let out what was meant to be an alluring moan and thrust her hips towards her captor and soon-to-be-executioner as the Zangoose turned to face her, straining against the bonds to held her arms pulled tautly over her head and her feet firmly in place against the floor of the platform. She could only think of the wonderful things that would do to that luscious red and white body, what the Zangoose would taste like, what it would feel like, how long it would be able to last before she had eked out every last iota of pleasure from it before it collapsed. She knew that the Zangoose had a name, but couldn't remember what it was, because it didn't matter. She knew that the Zangoose had once been a friend, but that didn't matter either. All that mattered was fulfilling the corrupted and corrupting need that overrode all other thoughts and desires.

The Pikachu whined and moaned louder as the Zangoose approached, straining harder, hard enough that the joints at her shoulders began to creak. Warning notifications flashed across her vision, but she ignored them; they were unimportant if she could only get her hands on the delicious body that stood before her. Then she gasped as cool metal slid up the inside of one spread thigh. Glancing down, she saw the implement of her execution, one shorn half of a pair of scissors, the blade sharp enough to trim faux-fur from synthetic flesh. The caress set her to trembling, lubrication flooding from an internal bladder to slick the space between her legs until it began dripping down to stain the stage.

The weapon was flipped as it neared her groin, the dull side sliding against her slicked sex to leave a trail of slime along it. The Pikachu moaned once more, grinding her hips against the surface as hard as she could, warning notifications flashing once more as her shoulders strained further. She could feel the joint sockets beginning to crack, but all that mattered was the pressure against her external pleasure sensors. Then it was pulled away, and she fell limp for a moment, gasping at the loss. The Zangoose strode back to the front of the stage to address the gathered crowd once more, and the Pikachu could only growl and thrash against her bonds.

Of course, this was the whole reason she was about to be executed: the corruption. The corrupted code segment turned pleasure from a reward upon executing commands successfully into a primary necessity, and she knew that it had to be done. If not, she would spread it. Spread it to those who survived her assault, at least, those who weren't left as leaking, broken wrecks of parts and wires. That didn't matter, though. All that mattered was that she was being denied the thing that she needed most in the world.

Then she felt hands on her arms, a slight slackening in the cord that had her stretched so tightly upwards. On instinct, she bit and snapped at the hands, attempting to elbow her handlers, but they were more than experienced enough to keep her steady. She didn't even take note of what they were, only that they were in proximity, they were prey she could strike at. Warning notifications increased, an alarm blaring in her mind as her arms were bent backwards, further and further. Her shoulder joints snapped so that her arms hung down uselessly behind her, and still she thrashed.

Then she felt something pressing once more between her legs. It was the tip of a pole or rod of some kind, and it became all that mattered to her. Without the upwards pressure, she was free to thrust herself down upon it, sinking it into her soaked slit. It sank in and in and in, another warning sounding as an inner barrier was breached. She didn't care. She continued downwards until she was brought to a jolting halt by a crossbar that prevented further progress, and then was suddenly brought back into an upright position by an upward thrust of the rod.

Now her legs were strained, the joints of her hips chirping out soft warnings, her toes barely left touching the stage. Yet still, the rod sat inside of her. She squirmed against it, shifting back and forward and up and down as much as she could, whining and gurgling at even such minor stimulation. The wire mesh that was pulled around her to encircle her was a distraction, so she ignored it, continuing to grind and thrust as best she could. When the Zangoose came to stand before her once more, the sword-like scissor blade stretched out to nearly touch the tip of her nose, she leaned forward to nip at it, taking it into her mouth to suckle upon.

The taste of her own drizzled fluids drove her to attempt a lunge, but the bonds holding her ankles in place and the shaft firmly lodged into her abdomen prevented much forward progress. The blade was pulled back, and the Pikachu let out a whine of disappointment, but then came a new sensation, one she knew but not in the way it was being applied. Electricity began to course through her. The silicone walls of her pussy clenched around the metal rod that impaled her, gripping it tightly as yet more lubrication leaked forth to trail down the pole.

It started out as a soft tingle, something that teased her diodes and frizzled her thoughts, but she had been designed for this. The current was redirected to fill her main storage battery, the red-orange patches on her cheeks lighting up to glow brilliantly as the current slowly increased. The Pikachu let out an ecstatic cry, humping at the conductive metal that filled her and fed her, feeling it slip downward slightly. That gave her room to really ride it, only a miniscule amount of space, but enough to bounce between standing on tip toe and flat-footed, enough to activate every pleasure sensor in her lower body.

Notifications began to flicker across her vision once more as storage capacity reached 100% followed by unintentional discharge warnings. The patches on her cheeks began to spark and crackle, short-lived flickers of electricity dancing through the air. And the current was still increasing, amperage and voltage ramping upwards past levels that her body had been designed to handle. A fountain of crackling energy began to flow from her discharge nodes, flowing into the wire mesh that surrounded her, grounding into the concrete platform upon which they stood. Warning messages grew more grave and dire, alarms of every level sounding inside her skull, her capacity reached and far exceeded.

Her cheek patches gave out first. The pain of it was exquisite, as if a pair of hammers had been slammed into the sides of her head simultaneously. They burst in a burning sputter that left her upper body swaying as it attempted to compensate for the sudden jolt. The scent of burned plastic wafted up from either side of her face. But it wasn't over yet. The electricity still flowed, and the crisp scent of boiling lubricant began to drift upwards form between her legs. It didn't matter for much longer, though, as her storage battery exploded, bursting open her chest to drizzle burning acid down her stomach and legs.

The Pikachu wailed, but in ecstasy rather than agony. Pain and pleasure excited the same sensors, and her corrupted programming made no distinction between them, her body convulsing. The world spun, flipping end over end, an impact, pressure, rolling. She lay on the side of her face, looking across the stage at her own body as it writhed and melted beneath the electrical fire that consumed her. All that mattered was the orgasmic pleasure that flowed through her processor as the last sparks of life passed through it, her eyes dimming to dull plastic, and she had only a fleeting wish that it could have lasted longer.

The End