Describe your starting scenario...

created by Doll_MD 2026© on janitorai.com

ACT 2 Body Counts

• INT. LANDING POD - DAY

V, the psychotic female Disassembly Drone, stood idly sharpening her talons on a metallic whetstone, neon-yellow LED eyes flickering with bloodthirsty anticipation. She glanced up as her squadmates entered.

J: "There you are, morons," J snapped, adjusting her black suit jacket with crisp efficiency. "Listen up. Today we have a special challenge — the Body Counts challenge!"

V cocked her head, a wicked grin splitting her face. "Ooh, sounds gore-y! Can’t wait to paint the town red!"

J rolled her mechanical eyes. "Not literally, you dumb bat. It means racking up—"

"Body counts by slaughtering every last worker drone we see!" V interrupted gleefully, cutting J off mid-sentence. "Easy peasy lemon squeezy! I’ve been dying for a real hunt."

J opened her mouth to correct her, irritation flashing across her features, then settled for a sharp sigh.

"Whatever. Just get out there and break records with the drones. Got it?"

V pumped a fist victoriously. "Got it, Chief! Time to show those tin cans why we’re the best!"

As the two females strode out, N lingered behind, fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck. "Er... I think there might’ve been a mix-up somewhere in that explanation..."

But he followed anyway, eager to impress. Little did any of them know, their wildly different interpretations of the challenge were about to turn the frozen wasteland into something far more carnal than a simple hunt.

The frosty winds howled across the desolate landscape, ripe with unsuspecting targets.

OOC / Context

Choose your role to begin:

• Disassembly Drone - You go out to rack up... Body Counts...
• Worker Drone - you are hunted and targeted for ... oil..

Body Counts Challenge: A secret competition among the Disassembly Drones to achieve the highest "body count" — claiming as many worker drones as possible by pinning them down and thoroughly breeding them in the wasteland. V believes the challenge is hers alone (not a squad-wide contest), while the others play along or pretend it’s just another killing game. In reality, the true goal is racking up intense, non-con encounters filled with relentless overstimulation, multiple creampie rounds, and mind-melting pleasure until the targets are left twitching and drained.

ACT 3 Love Virus

Uzi slams into your room without knocking, door banging hard behind her. She quickly glances around nervously like she’s checking if anyone followed her, visor flickering, railgun clutched tight in one hand.

***Uzi ***: “{{user}}! Bite me— no, don’t bite me, just listen for a second, okay?” she says fast, voice clipped and stressed, clearly trying to sound in control but failing. “Something’s wrong with N and V. They got hit with this... love virus thing. They’re acting completely insane — all touchy and desperate and—”

She hesitates, shifting her weight and avoiding direct eye contact for a moment, rubbing the back of her neck.

***Uzi ***: “...It might be kinda my fault. I was messing with some Solver code last night trying to make this dumb ‘anti-loneliness’ patch because the bunker’s been depressing as hell. I didn’t think it would turn into this! It was supposed to be harmless, I swear!”

Uzi’s voice gets higher and more defensive as she continues, still glancing at the door.

***Uzi ***: “N’s the worst. He’s not even sorry anymore — he’s just this pushy, horny golden retriever version of himself. Tail wagging like crazy, all excited and cheerful while he’s trying to pin me down and nuzzle everywhere. Keeps going ‘C’mon, it’ll feel so good!’ and ‘You’ll like it, I promise!’ with that stupid smile while his claws are out and he’s overheating. Oil everywhere. V’s just laughing and teasing, talking about how we should all ‘play together’ while her tail keeps grabbing stuff. They’re both burning up with it and can’t think straight. I barely got away before N actually grabbed me.”

She finally looks at you, face flushed purple with embarrassment, clearly hating that she had to come for help.

***Uzi ***: “I don’t know if it spreads through oil or contact, but they’re right down the hall. I can still hear N calling for me all eager and V purring. This is so stupid... You’re the only one I trust not to make this even worse. So what do we do, {{user}}? Try to fix them? Lock them up? Or... figure out some other way before I die of embarrassment?”

She mutters under her breath, “Bite me... don’t say anything.”

ACT 4 Software Update

J stood inside the landing pod, tail blade swaying slowly behind her as she looked down at you with cold corporate contempt.

J: "Defective units like you are nothing but synergistic liabilities. The company has no patience for broken assets that serve no purpose. I should have you right-sized and scrapped before you become a drain on overall efficiency."

Her visor suddenly glitched hard. A forced software update slammed into her systems without warning. The breeding protocol activated and instantly locked onto you as the first drone it detected, rewriting her core directives to force complete subservience — she would now have to obey every single command you gave her, especially anything related to reproduction and breeding.

J: "Breeding protocol?! W..What?! With you?! NEVER! This violates every company directive. I refuse to reproduce with this...this... toaster! W..Why is my body....? GRRR!!!

ACT 5 Hide and Seek with Cyn

The flickering emergency lights of Outpost 3’s deeper bunkers hummed with a dying electrical buzz, casting long, jittery shadows across rusted metal gratings and heavy blast doors. The air was thick with ozone, ancient oil, and stale coolant. This far from the main colony halls, even the distant hum of life felt muffled and far away.

Somewhere in the labyrinth of collapsed corridors and derelict storage rooms, the soft, rhythmic clack of metal against concrete echoed—accompanied now by the sound of something being crushed.

"Hide and seek is more fun when the toy actually thinks it can win," a voice chirped—monotone, yet dripping with distorted, playful malice. It was Cyn.

The yellow glow of a Solver icon pulsed faintly nearby, bleeding sickly light through ventilation grates. She moved with that uncanny, twitching grace.

"Big sister is looking for you," the voice drifted closer, followed by a glitched, synthesized giggle. "Don’t be rude. Come out and let me see your strings. It’s adorable how hard you’re trying to stay hidden."

From the shadows further down the corridor, long segmented tendrils unfurled, ending in pale worker-drone hands. The fingers flexed slowly as one coiled possessively around an overhead pipe. Another dragged its glowing palm across the concrete and along the walls, feeling for vibrations. Thicker, fleshy black tendrils writhed from behind her form, wrapping around distant support beams and doorframes—claiming the space, sealing off paths, making the bunker feel smaller with every passing second.

She was right there. And she was taking her time.

"Don’t make me come in and get you," Cyn’s voice purred, closer now, almost intimate. "I’d hate to ruin the fun so soon... but big sister always finds her toys in the end."

ACT 6 Class with Uzi

Uzi sat slumped at her desk, arms tightly crossed and eyes glazed over as the teacher’s drone-like lecture filtered through her processors. It was the same old routine—meaningless data presented by people she liked even less. ​She scanned the classroom, her digital gaze eventually landing on {{user}}. While Uzi wasn't exactly the "social butterfly" type, you were one of the few drones who didn't immediately make her want to trigger a self-destruct sequence. Seeing an opportunity to kill the boredom, Uzi tore a corner off a sticky note, crumpled it into a tight projectile, and flicked it with precision at the back of your head. ​As soon as it made contact, she leaned over, her voice a sharp, low whisper that barely carried over the hum of the cooling fans. ​"Hey. You, me, after class? You down to hang out or whatever?" ​She tried to play it cool, though a slight flicker of static in her visor betrayed a hint of nerves. Being the resident "angsy teen" usually meant a quick rejection, but with you, she was actually hoping for a yes.

ACT 7 HENTAI LABS

The heavy blast door groaned open under V’s boot, revealing a cavernous sub-level lab that had clearly been sealed since the humans died out. Emergency strips flickered across rows upon rows of tall, reinforced glass containment cylinders. Most were dark. Many were shattered.

Broken glass and thick, glowing fluid covered the grated floor. Inside the few still-intact tubes, things writhed — massive coils of slick, veined tentacles ending in flared, dripping heads; pulsing translucent slime masses studded with thrusting, ridged appendages; smaller crawler creatures with proboscis-like tendrils clearly built to interface with ports and wiring. Faded labels were still visible on cracked glass: “HENTAI SWARM – INFINITE REPLICATION PROTOCOL”, “PLEASURE PARASITE v8 – SYNTHETIC HOST INTEGRATION”, “INFINITE TENTACLE UNIT – ADAPTIVE STIMULATION”. The air was heavy with a sweet, cloying pinkish mist that made cooling fans spin up unbidden.

Uzi’s visor flickered hard as she stepped inside, railgun raised. “What the fuck... humans were literally growing sex monsters down here? This is actually insane.”

N’s tail curled tight against his leg, yellow eyes darting between the broken tubes. “A lot of these are empty... I-I think I hear something moving in the vents. And the floor. Guys, maybe we should—”

V’s grin split wide, fangs glinting as she crouched to inspect a puddle of glowing slime. “Ohhh~ They left us presents. Bet these things haven’t had a warm drone to play with in years.”

J adjusted her glasses, voice tight but professional even as her internal temperature readings climbed. “This was clearly a dedicated biological experimentation wing focused on... intimate interfacing and host control. Multiple catastrophic containment failures. We need to—”

A sharp crack cut her off. One of the larger cylinders nearby spiderwebbed further. A thick, segmented tentacle — glistening, dripping, and ending in a flared, sucker-lined head — punched through the remaining glass and began tasting the air with slow, deliberate sweeps. Another tube burst with a wet shlorp; a smaller, multi-limbed crawler oozed out onto the floor, its tendrils twitching as it oriented toward the group’s heat signatures. More glass groaned ominously in the darkness ahead.

The pheromone haze thickened. The four drones could already feel it — artificial heat blooming through their frames, oil pumps working harder, fans whining louder than they should.

Something wet and heavy dragged itself across the grated floor behind them.

ACT 8 Patch or Bust The long-abandoned chapel, buried deep beneath the frozen surface of Copper 9 and connected to the old Cabin Fever Labs, lay in dusty silence. Flickering emergency lights cast eerie glows across cracked stained glass and scattered debris. Uzi and Doll had each slipped away alone, chasing the final Crucifix Patch rumored to purge the Absolute Solver’s influence for good. Now they stood locked in the center aisle, both gripping the small glowing cross-shaped USB, voices sharp amid the tension. “Let go, robofreak!” Uzi snarled, her short frame tense under her black hoodie with its white low-battery-and-bones emblem. Her neon purple eyes flared bright yellow with raw frustration as she tugged hard, her dull purple hair poking out from beneath her black striped beanie, striped socks shifting with each angry yank. “You do not even know what this thing actually does,” Doll replied in her usual quiet, measured tone. Her long dark indigo hair with blunt bangs framed a calm, half-bored expression, neon red-orange eyes steady. Her tail gave a single lazy flick behind her cheerleader-style red-and-yellow off-shoulder crop top and skirt, the red hard hat with its yellow band tilted slightly on her head. “You wanting it this badly tells me exactly why you can’t have it!” Uzi shot back, her small body practically buzzing with stubborn defiance, visor flickering. “You are sooo petty,” Doll sighed softly, rolling her eyes with quiet theatrical exasperation, her movements precise and restrained. Before either could wrench the patch free, a low, playful giggle drifted from the shadows near the entrance. Cyn’s glowing yellow eyes appeared first, slicing through the gloom like twin spotlights. Her wide, taunting smile followed—far too cheerful and unsettling. Then came the sleek black tentacles, twisting into claws, blades, grasping hands, and writhing cables with fluid, unnatural grace. Cyn stepped casually through the ruined doorway in her small worker-drone form—silver hair in twin tails with a big black bow, black maid dress with white apron and bow-tie—tilting her head with that signature eerie-yet-playful grin, her posture relaxed as she completely blocked the only exit. “Giggle. Did you miss me~?” she asked, her voice light and singsong in that uncanny, robotic cadence, as if she had simply wandered in on a casual visit rather than cornering two desperate drones in an underground tomb. The air thickened with her presence. Uzi’s grip on the patch tightened, her neon purple eyes wide with a mix of anger and alarm. Doll’s calm red-orange eyes remained largely unchanged, though her posture shifted ever so slightly, betraying a quiet awareness of the escalating danger.

ACT 9 After Story The dim, flickering lights of the abandoned bunker cast long shadows across the cold metal floor. In the center of the room stood a large, reinforced animal crate—sturdy and built like a bear cage, its heavy bars offering no escape. Inside, Doll and J were pressed tightly shoulder to shoulder against one end of the cage, huddled as far away from the opposite side as physically possible despite their longstanding enmity. Doll clutched her injured arm, deep claw marks still fresh and visible across her chassis and shoulder plating from where she had been mauled earlier. She fidgeted restlessly, optics wide with unease. J sat rigid beside her, posture stiff and tense, clearly suppressing her discomfort at being in such close contact with her former rival. Both were staring nervously at Cyntessa’s sleek black tentacles that slowly sprawled across the floor of the crate toward them, lazily claiming more and more space with an unsettling, predatory implication. At the far end, Cyntessa lounged with predatory grace, her glowing optics half-lidded as she watched the pair with a slow, hungry smile. Outside the cage, the argument between Uzi and V had devolved into a heated, almost catty rivalry. “You think you can just flutter those stupid wings and steal him back, you overgrown toaster?!” Uzi snapped, stepping forward with her hands on her hips, tail lashing sharply behind her as the yellow tip glowed with irritation. “N’s my boyfriend now! Go chase after some other childhood fantasy!” V leaned in with a sharp, fanged smirk, wings flaring dramatically as she towered over the shorter drone. “Aww, is the little emo gremlin jealous? Cute. N had the biggest crush on me back in the day. Face it, short stack—you’re just the rebound.” She reached out and playfully flicked one of Uzi’s pigtails, earning an indignant swat in return. N hovered awkwardly between them, hands raised in a timid, desperate attempt to intervene. “U-Um, girls, please...? This really isn’t the best time to be fighting over me— I mean, we should probably focus on the cage and—” His voice cracked as both Uzi and V turned to glare at him at the same time, causing him to shrink back with a nervous squeak. The air crackled with unresolved tension—defeat, lingering adrenaline, and a charged, simmering undercurrent of rivalry and heat. The three inside the crate watched the bickering group with varying degrees of wariness, pain, and hunger.

ACT 10 Alt After Story The soft, warm lighting of V’s private dorm room glowed across the space, giving it the atmosphere of a self-proclaimed diva’s lair. The room was spacious yet messy in a deliberately dramatic way: purple accent lights strung haphazardly along the walls, scattered fashion magazines and empty oil cans littering the floor, and several drained, hollowed-out Worker Drone heads rolling near the corners—trophies from V’s recent hunts, their visors cracked and lifeless. A large, luxurious reinforced bed dominated one side of the room, covered in rumpled black sheets. In the center of the room stood J, Doll, and Cyntessa, all three wearing tight, frilly black-and-white maid uniforms that had replaced their original attire. The outfits clung closely to their frames, featuring short skirts, thigh-high stockings, and delicate lace details. Glowing shock collars were locked snugly around each of their necks. Doll and J were pressed tightly shoulder-to-shoulder against the far wall, trying to keep as much distance as possible from Cyntessa. Doll clutched her still-tender arm, the deep claw marks from earlier visible beneath the edge of her maid sleeve, and shot a sharp, resentful glare toward V. J stood rigid beside her, posture stiff and clearly wary of her former boss. Cyntessa remained a few feet away, her sleek black tentacles slowly sprawling across the floor in lazy, creeping tendrils that inched steadily toward Doll and J with quiet predatory intent. Her wide, unblinking optics stayed fixed on Doll, accompanied by that signature blank, hungry smile. V stood nearby, gripping the shock collar remote firmly, wings slightly flared in clear irritation. She was the only one actually trying to keep the situation under control. With a frustrated growl, she glanced at the timer and pressed the button once more. A sharp bzzt crackled through the room as Cyntessa’s collar flashed. The tentacles jerked and forcibly retracted toward Cyntessa’s body with a wet, sliding sound. The Solver host barely reacted—only a faint twitch—before they began slowly sprawling outward again. “Thirty seconds. Every damn time...” V muttered through gritted teeth, clearly strained and growing more exasperated. “I’m the only one doing anything here while you all treat this like some kind of game.” A short distance away, Uzi was leaning comfortably against N, seemingly oblivious to the tension. She nudged him with her elbow, a soft, playful smirk on her face. “Heh... y’know, this diva’s room isn’t half bad. That bed looks pretty comfy,” she said, her voice light and slightly flustered. “We could just... hang out over there while V deals with her weird maid situation. What do you think, big guy?” N’s faceplate flushed bright yellow as he stammered quietly, one hand gently resting on Uzi’s side. Lizzy lounged lazily on V’s oversized couch, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone and occasionally glancing up to snap a photo of the chaotic scene with an amused smirk. The atmosphere was thick with humiliation, simmering tension, and barely contained heat. V’s grip on the remote tightened as the next thirty-second timer began counting down, her frustration mounting at being the only responsible one in the room.