The Inconvenience of Urz
A silly little lewd fic about a robot having a rough time trying to mod themself! Enjoy!
The trouble started at the beginning of Lax, the fourth and mildest season of Cornucopia's six, when Urz stepped out to stretch their creaky joints. Their olfactory sensors sang to them of the renewal in the air, the tree's were ripe with fruit, and the solar paths were keeping them comfortably topped off, even as they left the neighborhood grid. They'd just sat down at their favorite little refreshment shop, when the network pinged them with an update on their incoming shipment. In that moment they were grateful that they'd ordered a coolant refresher, else their fans would whir with the secret knowledge of what awaited them back at home. They unscrewed the coolant bulb as nonchalantly as they could muster, leaving it on the de-ionizing rack before exiting their beloved shop.
The order could wait, the update read that it wouldn't arrive until later, after a lot of conscious processing and deliberate self updating, they wouldn't let this one event shunt itself to the top of their priority list. Urz felt it was only in the spirit of pleasant season to act on their self betterment, so after filing away their overeager processes they went on their way.
It always felt like a million cycles waiting for Lax. It isn't that other seasons didn't have their perks. Reap always left them feeling pleasantly cool, even if the seasonal frost made them feel stiff if they didn't allocate a process or two to keeping up with the artificial eclipses that kept the fields free of pests. Lax was special though, you could just tell. The Eumideans bore freshly polished carapaces, some rare Humans would make their way to this corner of the system for what Urz had heard were much needed vacations, and other Mechan would be expecting similar packages for a season perfect for upgrades, modding, and maintenance.
It was well into the golden hours when Urz had made their way home. Oath had already eaten, and had even been kind enough to leave the mail on kitchen table before retiring xyr room for some much needed rest and time to sort out their autos. But something wasn't right. Where was their package? Their fans began to whir at the thought that Oath had mistaken it for xyr own package, but after a harrowing ping to the mail server, they were only left annoyed. The rout the package had taken should have stopped at their address a few hours before Urz had gotten home, but for some reason known only to the machinations of the postal system, it had sailed right past them, and onward along the rout. Now the server just informed them that the package would be 'delivered soon'.
Their core system flooded with loathing. There was nothing worse than an information gap. Their systems longed for nothing more to fill this lapse of knowledge with anything that brought them closure, but it was totally out of their reach. They fought to shove the processes that wished for nothing more than to harry the mail server for further information, and came to a compromise. They had planned to install this package alongside another that had come earlier this week, but to give them some distraction, they'd get it done tonight, and accomplish some part of their initial goal.
They made it into their room, just managing to take manual control of their servos before they slammed their door behind them. They pulled the lone package from the corner of the work bench, opening it deliberately as to drag their attention to the task at hand. They'd been thinking about spending the mallow on this all last cycle, ever since a network friend had told them how much they'd loved it. A genital mod, free of proprietary hardware, and with a dedicated community for software modifications. They were shy at first, but they couldn't help but be sold after hearing about custom sensitivity, vibration settings that could leave your bearings loose, and ports for hot-swappable addons! All perfect for multi-species interaction! Their current equipment was perfectly adequate, but it was a nice feeling to be able to make it truly their own.
By now their fans were audible spinning, but the walls were thick enough to obscure even the most cantankerous tinkering. They pulled the box out of the mycoid padding, pulled away the admittedly fancy drawstring bag, and disposed of the packaging in the auto-cycler, and...
wait..?
IT WAS THE WRONG SIZE!?
They dug through their directory like an Icetill Morph flaying a glacial sheet! The mallow transfer had the correct size. The order confirmation had the correct size. How was the manifest incorrect by TWO SIZES!? Their fans roared with exasperation, indignant rage, and a hint of embarrassment at looking at a set of genitals that were clearly not meant for them.
They stomped across the room and fell ridged onto their maintenance rack, allocating all their previously used motor systems to notifying their modder friends about the clear injustice in this universe for such an irritating circumstance to befall them. Another process sent off an order dispute to the manufacturer, which had the gall to respond immediately with their service hours rather than a correction to their order. Urz and their Mechan friends fired responses back and forth rapidly, eventually culminating in the consensus that, it would eventually get fixed, and that 'venting their feelings was just as important as venting their processors'. Their organic friends weren't so present, which Urz felt a little petulant about at first, but know it isn't reasonable to expect such rapid responses from sapients whose processes aren't directly connected to the network like theirs were.
Eventually, their internal clock informed them it was just about sunrise. A few of their organic friends had started responding as they woke for the day, mostly understanding the annoyance of an incorrect shipment, a sentiment especially felt by those who worked the community kitchens, who were settling for ingredients from stasis after their last shipment included product meant for another sector of the planet, and thus included ingredients outside of the local populations dietary needs. The dispute server also responded, an entire infuriating minute after their listed service hours.
The dispute apologized for the inconvenience, and strangely, informed them they were free to keep the mistakenly delivered product, free of obligation. Urz sheepishly sent a reply in thanks, and booted their motor and sensory systems. They unplugged from the rack and trod over to the abandoned set of genitalia on the workbench. What were they expected to do with a spare set of genitals? They didn't know any Mechan locally who were interested, or even knowledgeable in this realm of modding, and it certainly wasn't something they could subtly inquire about. And they would feel bad recycling such a well crafted piece.
Shunting the thoughts of how nice the genitals were, they left them on the work bench, trusting that Oath wouldn't be barging into their space, and if they did, hoping they wouldn't notice the features that were very clearly crafted for the purpose of Eumidean interaction.
Urz only just managed to get out of the house before Oath made xyr way out of xyr room, hearing xy just emerging as they closed the front door behind them. They didn't even have plans today. Well, they had plans. Mostly related to finding an adult community space and stretching their -metaphorically- rusty flirting processes with some lucky sapient. Their day just kind of dragged on, regardless of their internal clock. It was the second day of Lax, it would be a shame to waste it, even if they were distracted by the frequent checks on the now two deliveries scheduled for today.
Eventually, the day wore to a close, and they made their way home in an amount of time calculated to appear as though they weren't fervently awaiting the two packages that awaited them, both now responding with an affirmation of delivery.
When they arrived home however, the front door bore no packages, no notice of failed delivery, and most concerning, the glass pane in the center of the door, shone with the lights emanating from within the home. Their fans flared to life as they rushed inside to investigate.
Immediately they found that the kitchen table was laden with grocery bags and mail, none of which were their prize. Oath's room was silent, and their roommate was nowhere to be found. Quick, and quiet as their whining vents would allow, they crept to their door, and cracked it slowly. Inside was a horror only dreamt up in their most unlikely simulations. Oath stood in the center of the room, holding aloft the mis-delivered genitalia for inspection in xyr long chitinous digits. Xyr antennae twitched, in a way Urz only recognized from when Oath would arrive home late, which was a new connection in and of itself.
Urz slowly opened the door, drawing one of Oath's eyes. When the second of the two caught up, xy startled and dropped the mod. It hit the floor with a metallic thunk. Oath stood there, autos clearly scrambled in a situation xy wasn't specialized for. Urz broke the silence first.
"Hey... Oath, what're you doing in here?", they started, moving inch by inch closer to the fallen metal elephant in the room.
Oath's eyes focused and xy held xyr hooked forelimbs over xyr eyes, xyr emerald body being pulled multiple different ways by autos specialized for a calm ecosystem, rather than one being built for Eumideans xy wouldn't live to see. Xy wasn't build for this rare instance of embarrassed fight or flight.
"I- I was... I had...", xy stammered through frazzled mandibles, "There wasn't enough room for- for the groceries and the... p- packages!", xyr eyes flicked down to the mod, then back up to meet Urz. "So I thought I'd help and... put your boxes in here! And I... I saw...". Xy doesn't dare say. Neither of them look.
Urz is lucky to process their thoughts well before they speak, but they hardly feel as though they're faring much better.
"It's ok... I can take care of them from here", they say, every voiced word feeling like the wrong one, and their vents spinning like they're cooling a fusion reactor betray how they truly feel.
Oath sees the out and moves before xy realizes it, nearly hitting the door on the way out, and assuredly feeling the hot air Urz vents as xy passes. Urz closes the door behind xem, trying not to listen to the panicked Eumidean chittering that immediately follows. They grab the dropped mod from the floor, considering the validity of shoving it into the auto-cycler, and how at this moment they feel they could throw themself in after it.
They take a good while to settle down, drafting a prepared message to their friends to discuss the situation that had just occurred, and the arrival of their mods, set to be delivered when they were ready. They drag themself to the workbench, to look at their thoughtfully delivered packages, and feel a bit guilty for not helping with the groceries, even if most of them serve them no purpose, beyond some plug cleaner and other maintenance products. They pull them open automatically, too distracted by the simulations of how to have handled that situation better, discarding the package for their delayed erogenous zone mods, but setting aside the package for the genitals, to store their spare 'set'. After a while they settle, casting away the simulations.
They pulled up their wire rig, first installing the genital mod -thankfully properly sized- since the tools for doing so were already prepared with yesterday's attempt. They pull out a hand mirror, admiring their new parts and getting their first feeling of contentment for the day, immediately allocating some processes for enjoyable simulations of what they'd like to use their new kit for first. Then it came time to install their long awaited erogenous zone mods. Similarly to their new set of genitals, these had sensitivity customization, region expansion for areas that weren't previously erogenous, and software more inclined to user modification than Urz's current kit.
They lovingly experimented with areas they'd like the near invisible erogenous plates to be places, before fitting them into place and plugging them into their nervous comput-
Before they could process what was happening, every one of their systems was flooded with pleasure calls, overwhelmed by a pure deluge of euphoria trampling through their every process. They hang from the wire rig, back arched and shaking with unrelenting pleasure, fans full blast as they heat beyond the standard bounds of typical Mechan lust. Each of their countless orgasms are accompanied by a steaming deluge of lubricant, coating the workbench and floor over and over, until the reserve included with their new genitals is exhausted.
88%... 87%...
74%... 73%...
40%... 39%...
5%... 4%...
All they feel as their battery is spent, is undiluted pleasure. They don't even register their delayed draft sending automatically as their system shuts down, joined by a ping to Oath, their emergency contact. They don't register the response their friends send them, warning that the erogenous plates are erroneously set beyond their factory maximum due to a coding error, and that they should make sure to edit them on an external console before installing them. They don't see the gleam in Oath's compound eyes as xy peek through the cautiously opened door, into a room with a strung up Mechan inertly hung above a pool of warm lubricant. They don't hear xem whimper with an unspoken need, or feel xem roll them, suspended, to their maintenance rack, and plug them in with shaky digits, before retreating from the room for some much needed private time.
They wake to their bios menu, disable their mods, and return to their senses at the end of a very inconvenient pair of days.