The year is 2097. Friday. You've waited for this night since you were a teenager. Fifteen years of training will be used tonight - your future career the main prize.

"The left elbow still needs a little work... Just three more days! Move the fight to next Friday and they won't know what hit 'em!"

Lying on the table, you can't see where the voice came from, but you recognized the colorful language of Team Chief 'Dildo' McEllis.

"Don't be nervous, Dildo. This 'bot is fresh from the factory and the best there is." You reply, trying to hide the shaking in your own voice. "I'll show you just how good a job your team did."

"I know you will. It's just that this is your first match and your opponent's tenth. Should give you more time..."

Time to what? Sim training gets old. There's no simulator that can compare with the real thing. "I have to do it now. The Board will see me as a challenger and hothead. I need the edge to get in this season's schedule."

"Good luck to ya... Give 'em an uppercut for me." says Dildo.

The attendants begin checking your suit. You can feel the small needles in the helmet pressing into your skull. Fifteen minutes to show time. You feel a slight burning sensation as the drugs which prep your nervous system to interface with the machines.

A cute attendant who has been massaging your legs leans over the bed and gives you a wink. "Nighty night... Remember me when you're famous." she giggles.

Your eyes begin to shut. You blink a few times, trying not to fight the medication. Finally, your eyes begin to close as you lose consciousness.

METAL! You can't believe the feeling! Your eyes open, but they're not your own. You look at your hand and flex it into a fist. You strike the fist against your opposite palm and the sound is like two trains smashing together. You realize you'll never get used to "jacking in," the feeling of power you get from suddenly becoming a few hundred tons of dangerous equipment.

"You there, pal?" says a voice inside your head.

You now hear several voices in the background, "Physical attributes steady. All systems mark."

You turn your head over to the body lying on the bed ten meters away and almost 30 meters below.

You speak, your voice amplified a hundred times, "I'm slice, Dildo. Let's do some juicin'!"

It is no longer blood you feel pumping, but Synthoil. Your eyes now show you heat dissipation factors, metal strength, arousal states, biostress scales, and some other figures so complicated you know to ignore them.

Even though you no longer have blood, it feels like your pulse is climbing as the clock over the door nears 00:00.

"Zero hour. Let 'er roar!"

The door opens. The crowd cheers. The game begins.

---

Welcome to All Must Fap 2097. In this future, national governments are puppets of the multinational corporations. One such corporation, World Aeronautics and Robotics (WAR), runs the entire show with a silk-covered iron fist. "All's fair in love and WAR" is the most common phrase of the day. WAR was started as a research institute to provide human-assisted
robots for space travel. Their first prototypes were activated in 2009 and were immediately put to use by a conglomeration of companies from Japanamerica to build the first ACTIVE space station (the first attempt at a space station was abandoned by the later defunct United States of America before becoming operational). The HAR's were better than conventional
robots in that they were completely operated by a single human whose brain controlled the robot's systems via remote. The "pilot" actually "became" the robot for all intents and purposes, but no danger to the pilot was possible.

Now, WAR is Earth's leading corporation. Every other company relies on WAR for space travel to Earth's four off-world stations. WAR provides systems for governments and companies alike for security and defense.

WAR is power. And you're a part of it.

Ganymede, the next moon on Jupiter to be colonized, needs a WAR representative to watch over it. The Board at WAR has decided that the applicants for the position, being equally qualified, should fight for it. Now, the ten applicants must choose which HAR will be their weapon
and beat the others in a globally televised show of willpower and strength.

The rules are simple: The first bot to cause the opposing pilot to orgasm is the winner.

Anyone who has even a remotely important position at WAR is trained in the use of HAR's. Most have spent considerable time "in" a real working model to get the feel of it. But the use of HAR's for public entertainment is a completely new scheme brought about by WAR itself to appeal to the desensitized audiences. The idea of using WAR robots for entertainment is a new one, but The Company believes that it will be good press for the next prototypes from the WAR design rooms. Therefore, the public is invited to view the proceedings.

It will be the greatest show of sexual prowess since the the free love age, 1960. Years of training on the 'bots makes you think you can take the other pencil-pushers who show, and you know that your passion for being V.P. of this hunk of rock is much better than any they could have. As the 21st century comes to a close, you prepare to put a big dent in the 22nd!

_________________

http://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/yomt ... l-2097-r34

Rapidfire freehand sketch. Resized with FUCKING MSPAINT.

_________________

Meh..... decent I guess....

_________________

Link

_________________