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Description

My original drawing is here

www.deviantart.com/fembotfan/a…

NSFW version is

www.deviantart.com/fembotfan/a…

Story is below

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled amongst the rolling hills and lush forests of rural Europe, lived a young woman named Clara. From the moment she could walk, she spent her days studying ballet, pouring every ounce of her passion and dedication into becoming the best dancer she could be. Her teacher, an elderly woman with a kind smile and wrinkled hands, had taught generations of young women the art of ballet, and Clara was her most promising student yet. After growing to womanhood and performing for twenty years, her body was no longer able to handle the rigorous practice and training. She moved back to her childhood home as her both her instructor and parents had passed away she was quite lonely.
But one day, a letter arrived at Clara's doorstep, inviting her to audition for a traveling all-female ballet troupe and the ballet’s director was passing through town the following day to interview her. Excited by the prospect of once again seeing the world and performing on stage, Clara eagerly accepted the invitation.

The following day, as she waited in the grand ballroom of the town hall, she was a professional, and very well versed, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. But as the director, a stern-looking woman with an air of authority about her, entered the room, Clara's nerves were replaced with determination. She danced flawlessly, moving gracefully across the polished wooden floor, and when she had finished, the director's stern face softened into a smile. "Clara," she said, "You are one of the most talented dancers I have seen in years. I have a position for you in our troupe, but I must warn you that it will not be an easy life. You will be expected to work tirelessly, and you will not have much time for yourself." Clara nodded, nervous she would not be able to keep up with the aches and pains in the feet angles and knees, but she was past caring about the sacrifices she would have to make as long as she could continue dancing.

The day soon arrived when Clara was to join the troupe, and she found herself being whisked away to a grand mansion far from home. At first, she was amazed by the opulence of their surroundings, but as the days turned into weeks, she began to notice that the other dancers seemed to be acting strangely. They moved stiffly, as if they were robots, and their expressions never changed. One night, as she lay awake in bed, she heard footsteps creeping down the hallway and a door opening. Curiosity getting the better of her, she got out of bed and followed the sound. She peeked into the room to see the other dancers gathered around a table, their leader - the director - standing at the head.

As Clara watched in horror, she realized that the director was removing parts of their bodies and replacing them with mechanical components. Before she could react, the director turned and noticed her. "Ah, Clara," she said with a sinister smile. "I'm glad you could join us." Clara turned and tried to run, but it was too late.

The next thing she knew, Clara was lying on the table, and the director was replacing her arms with mechanical ones. As the mechanical parts clicked into place, she felt a strange sensation coursing through her body. She was no longer in control. She was nothing more than a robot, a tool to be used by the director and her troupe.

As the final mechanical piece clicked into place, the director stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said with a satisfied smile. "You're one of us now. You are different than the others though, as I have left you with your memories, and I suppose your original personality, just in case I need your input in the future.”

Clara tried to move her arms, but they felt stiff and unnatural. She struggled to maintain her balance as she stood up, the mechanical parts of her body clicked and whirred. The other dancers regarded her with blank eyes, their faces devoid of emotion.

The director clapped her hands together and addressed the group. "Alright, ladies," she said, "it's time for our first practice performance with you all robotized." She gestured for them to form a line, and they obeyed without hesitation, their steps precise and mechanical. Clara followed suit, her new mechanical limbs allowing her to move with an unnatural grace. She now had no control over her actions.

As they danced, Clara understood fully that she were no longer in control of her body. Even her thoughts were not her own; they were being directed by the computerized brain within her skull. She could feel the director's presence within her mind, guiding her movements and dictating her motions. It was as if she were a puppet on strings, dancing to the director's tune. It all went smoothly and they went on the road the very next day.
With 2 performances every night as they traveled east through Russia, Clara would be turned off just as soon as each performance was completed. The women would march to their dressing area, step into each dancer’s individual charging and shipping box, then deactivate. Clara found being deactivated much like a dreamless sleep. It was as all she even did anymore was activate, march to the stage, wherever that may be, and perform.

After what seemed like an eternity, one evening, after a performance the strict schedule seemed to come to an end. As the audience erupted into applause, an applause Clara could not enjoy, as she knew that they were not applauding her; they were applauding the director's genius in creating such a flawless display of robotic dance. As the other dancers curtsied and bowed, Clara one again felt a desperate urge to escape. This evening she did not have a windup key in her back, as she had played the roll of the young woman dancing among the windup toys. She always found it felt unbalanced when she had a key turning in the middle of her upper back. She knew it was not necessary, as she had a batter somewhere inside her that powered her, and it was not the winding of a key that kept her going.

She waited until the last echoes of the applause had died away and the curtains dropped, as they departed the stage, each dancing marching in robotic unison, Clara realized she was at the back of the line and she was not stepping at the same time as the others. She thought that’s it odd. I wonder if I could change my actions somehow. I should stop walking right now she thought.. and quite suddenly she did. As the other dancers continued to march, Clara lifted her hands in front of her face and realized she was in control of her body for the first time in a long time. Without hesitation she darted out of the theater’s side entrance, her mechanical limbs carrying her swiftly through the darkness. Behind her, she imagined she heard the director shouting for her to stop, but she didn't dare look back. She knew that if she was caught, there would be no escape from the director's clutches.

Clara ran down the alley, her gears clicking and humming. She didn't even know which city she was in, let alone where she was going; she just knew she had to get away. She had crossed two streets without seeing anyone and was running down a dark alley. As she turned a corner, she collided with a young man who was walking his dog. They both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs and a yelping dog. The man glared at her angrily, his face pained and pink with embarrassment. "Um, where are you going is such a hurry?" he inquired as he got to his feet and extended his hand to help her up. Clara thankful to actually be in contact with someone that was not the director simply and earnestly said simple “please help me.”

The young man studied her for a moment, taking in her stiff posture and the ballet outfit she was wearing. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took her hand. "Come on," he said, "I'll help you." As he began to walk clara stood perfectly still.

The man glanced back at her, puzzled. "You're not coming with me?" he asked. Clara remained motionless and stared blankly, as she reached the time when her systems were scheduled to deactivate. The man sighed and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like a quite heavy child. Her limbs looked human but felt cold and unyielding against his skin. "Alright, alright," he muttered to himself, "you are very cold. I'll take you home and see what we can do to warm you back up."

As he began to walk, the young man noticed that the few people on the street were staring at him strangely. He chuckled as he was carrying a girl in a ballet outfit who was as stiff as a board. He tried to ignore them and focus on his route back to his apartment. It didn't take long for him to realize that Clara was much heavier than she looked. Unbeknownst to him, her mechanical limbs and body had add extra weight to her frame. He shifted her in his arms, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was no use. She was heavy, and he was starting to feel the strain. Thankfully her had reached the alleyway that lead to his apartment. He stood clara up and leaned her against the wall as he unlocked the door. His dog immediately ran in and up the two flights of stairs, leaving him to carry Clara awkwardly up the stairs, taking care not to touch her in any, inappropriate locations. The young man laid Clara stiffly on his couch, walked into his room and returned with a thick, warm blanket. He placed the blanket over Clara and said hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning looking into her eyes he realized they were unmoving, and she was not blinking. he placed his fingers against the side of her neck for a pulse and feeling nothing. He stumbled backward, afraid this woman died, and just stood there? It seemed impossible. Perhaps she had passed while she was carrying her. As he reached into his pocket for his phone to call emergency services fortunate bit of timing occurred. Clara in a monotone voice, said “battery power is at 1%. Please plug this unit in.” The young man froze, before saying

saying, "Wait, what? You're alive?" Clara, not moving, simply replied only, "Battery power is at 1% Please plug this unit in." The young man scrambled for the wall socket, he ran back into the bedroom and reappeared with every power cable he could find. He carefully lifted the blanket and examined the areas of Clara’s body that were visible. It was as he closely inspected behind her right ear that he saw what looked to be a slightly different colored section of flesh. He pressed against it, and it opened on a small hinge. Relieved he discovered he had the proper cable, and plugged in the USB. He breathed a sigh of relief as a blue light on her neck began to glow.
Clara stiffly turned to face the young man and spoke again "thank you. I need to charge," she said simply and then closed her eyes. "The young man sat down hard on the floor, staring at her in disbelief.

Description

My original drawing is here

www.deviantart.com/fembotfan/a…

NSFW version is

www.deviantart.com/fembotfan/a…

Story is below

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled amongst the rolling hills and lush forests of rural Europe, lived a young woman named Clara. From the moment she could walk, she spent her days studying ballet, pouring every ounce of her passion and dedication into becoming the best dancer she could be. Her teacher, an elderly woman with a kind smile and wrinkled hands, had taught generations of young women the art of ballet, and Clara was her most promising student yet. After growing to womanhood and performing for twenty years, her body was no longer able to handle the rigorous practice and training. She moved back to her childhood home as her both her instructor and parents had passed away she was quite lonely.
But one day, a letter arrived at Clara's doorstep, inviting her to audition for a traveling all-female ballet troupe and the ballet’s director was passing through town the following day to interview her. Excited by the prospect of once again seeing the world and performing on stage, Clara eagerly accepted the invitation.

The following day, as she waited in the grand ballroom of the town hall, she was a professional, and very well versed, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. But as the director, a stern-looking woman with an air of authority about her, entered the room, Clara's nerves were replaced with determination. She danced flawlessly, moving gracefully across the polished wooden floor, and when she had finished, the director's stern face softened into a smile. "Clara," she said, "You are one of the most talented dancers I have seen in years. I have a position for you in our troupe, but I must warn you that it will not be an easy life. You will be expected to work tirelessly, and you will not have much time for yourself." Clara nodded, nervous she would not be able to keep up with the aches and pains in the feet angles and knees, but she was past caring about the sacrifices she would have to make as long as she could continue dancing.

The day soon arrived when Clara was to join the troupe, and she found herself being whisked away to a grand mansion far from home. At first, she was amazed by the opulence of their surroundings, but as the days turned into weeks, she began to notice that the other dancers seemed to be acting strangely. They moved stiffly, as if they were robots, and their expressions never changed. One night, as she lay awake in bed, she heard footsteps creeping down the hallway and a door opening. Curiosity getting the better of her, she got out of bed and followed the sound. She peeked into the room to see the other dancers gathered around a table, their leader - the director - standing at the head.

As Clara watched in horror, she realized that the director was removing parts of their bodies and replacing them with mechanical components. Before she could react, the director turned and noticed her. "Ah, Clara," she said with a sinister smile. "I'm glad you could join us." Clara turned and tried to run, but it was too late.

The next thing she knew, Clara was lying on the table, and the director was replacing her arms with mechanical ones. As the mechanical parts clicked into place, she felt a strange sensation coursing through her body. She was no longer in control. She was nothing more than a robot, a tool to be used by the director and her troupe.

As the final mechanical piece clicked into place, the director stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said with a satisfied smile. "You're one of us now. You are different than the others though, as I have left you with your memories, and I suppose your original personality, just in case I need your input in the future.”

Clara tried to move her arms, but they felt stiff and unnatural. She struggled to maintain her balance as she stood up, the mechanical parts of her body clicked and whirred. The other dancers regarded her with blank eyes, their faces devoid of emotion.

The director clapped her hands together and addressed the group. "Alright, ladies," she said, "it's time for our first practice performance with you all robotized." She gestured for them to form a line, and they obeyed without hesitation, their steps precise and mechanical. Clara followed suit, her new mechanical limbs allowing her to move with an unnatural grace. She now had no control over her actions.

As they danced, Clara understood fully that she were no longer in control of her body. Even her thoughts were not her own; they were being directed by the computerized brain within her skull. She could feel the director's presence within her mind, guiding her movements and dictating her motions. It was as if she were a puppet on strings, dancing to the director's tune. It all went smoothly and they went on the road the very next day.
With 2 performances every night as they traveled east through Russia, Clara would be turned off just as soon as each performance was completed. The women would march to their dressing area, step into each dancer’s individual charging and shipping box, then deactivate. Clara found being deactivated much like a dreamless sleep. It was as all she even did anymore was activate, march to the stage, wherever that may be, and perform.

After what seemed like an eternity, one evening, after a performance the strict schedule seemed to come to an end. As the audience erupted into applause, an applause Clara could not enjoy, as she knew that they were not applauding her; they were applauding the director's genius in creating such a flawless display of robotic dance. As the other dancers curtsied and bowed, Clara one again felt a desperate urge to escape. This evening she did not have a windup key in her back, as she had played the roll of the young woman dancing among the windup toys. She always found it felt unbalanced when she had a key turning in the middle of her upper back. She knew it was not necessary, as she had a batter somewhere inside her that powered her, and it was not the winding of a key that kept her going.

She waited until the last echoes of the applause had died away and the curtains dropped, as they departed the stage, each dancing marching in robotic unison, Clara realized she was at the back of the line and she was not stepping at the same time as the others. She thought that’s it odd. I wonder if I could change my actions somehow. I should stop walking right now she thought.. and quite suddenly she did. As the other dancers continued to march, Clara lifted her hands in front of her face and realized she was in control of her body for the first time in a long time. Without hesitation she darted out of the theater’s side entrance, her mechanical limbs carrying her swiftly through the darkness. Behind her, she imagined she heard the director shouting for her to stop, but she didn't dare look back. She knew that if she was caught, there would be no escape from the director's clutches.

Clara ran down the alley, her gears clicking and humming. She didn't even know which city she was in, let alone where she was going; she just knew she had to get away. She had crossed two streets without seeing anyone and was running down a dark alley. As she turned a corner, she collided with a young man who was walking his dog. They both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs and a yelping dog. The man glared at her angrily, his face pained and pink with embarrassment. "Um, where are you going is such a hurry?" he inquired as he got to his feet and extended his hand to help her up. Clara thankful to actually be in contact with someone that was not the director simply and earnestly said simple “please help me.”

The young man studied her for a moment, taking in her stiff posture and the ballet outfit she was wearing. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took her hand. "Come on," he said, "I'll help you." As he began to walk clara stood perfectly still.

The man glanced back at her, puzzled. "You're not coming with me?" he asked. Clara remained motionless and stared blankly, as she reached the time when her systems were scheduled to deactivate. The man sighed and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like a quite heavy child. Her limbs looked human but felt cold and unyielding against his skin. "Alright, alright," he muttered to himself, "you are very cold. I'll take you home and see what we can do to warm you back up."

As he began to walk, the young man noticed that the few people on the street were staring at him strangely. He chuckled as he was carrying a girl in a ballet outfit who was as stiff as a board. He tried to ignore them and focus on his route back to his apartment. It didn't take long for him to realize that Clara was much heavier than she looked. Unbeknownst to him, her mechanical limbs and body had add extra weight to her frame. He shifted her in his arms, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was no use. She was heavy, and he was starting to feel the strain. Thankfully her had reached the alleyway that lead to his apartment. He stood clara up and leaned her against the wall as he unlocked the door. His dog immediately ran in and up the two flights of stairs, leaving him to carry Clara awkwardly up the stairs, taking care not to touch her in any, inappropriate locations. The young man laid Clara stiffly on his couch, walked into his room and returned with a thick, warm blanket. He placed the blanket over Clara and said hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning looking into her eyes he realized they were unmoving, and she was not blinking. he placed his fingers against the side of her neck for a pulse and feeling nothing. He stumbled backward, afraid this woman died, and just stood there? It seemed impossible. Perhaps she had passed while she was carrying her. As he reached into his pocket for his phone to call emergency services fortunate bit of timing occurred. Clara in a monotone voice, said “battery power is at 1%. Please plug this unit in.” The young man froze, before saying

saying, "Wait, what? You're alive?" Clara, not moving, simply replied only, "Battery power is at 1% Please plug this unit in." The young man scrambled for the wall socket, he ran back into the bedroom and reappeared with every power cable he could find. He carefully lifted the blanket and examined the areas of Clara’s body that were visible. It was as he closely inspected behind her right ear that he saw what looked to be a slightly different colored section of flesh. He pressed against it, and it opened on a small hinge. Relieved he discovered he had the proper cable, and plugged in the USB. He breathed a sigh of relief as a blue light on her neck began to glow.
Clara stiffly turned to face the young man and spoke again "thank you. I need to charge," she said simply and then closed her eyes. "The young man sat down hard on the floor, staring at her in disbelief.