Let me know what orders you'd like Stark's new owner to give him. I can't promise I'll be able to get an image of him doing it, and may have to default to whatever works, but will try my darndest!
It had been 52 hours in transit, being shipped from Malibu to the other side of the country. The suit attended to Stark's vitals perfectly, such that he felt neither hungry nor thirsty nor even the need to fidget. It was a strange existence. He simply... existed. No end-of-the-world threats to deal with. He was simply a device and nothing more. He’d started to enjoy the meditative silence when light poured into his packing peanut prison. Two men were staring down at him.
“Product review,” one read aloud from notes delivered alongside Tony. “Household Servile prototype. Capable of performing all cleaning and homecare-related tasks.'”
The other man scowled. “As if I’ve time to be testing another of Stark’s half-baked ideas. Don’t they know how busy we are with the Damage Control work?”
“Orders from The Woman herself,” the other replied. "Says here we're to give it tasks, monitor its obedience, but not to tamper with or damage it."
“Pepper sent this?” The man snatched up the paperwork. “Alright, we'll have a play with it and pass it down to someone junior.”
The men tipped the box, unceremoniously disgorging Tony into a pile on the floor. He felt hands fumbling at the back of his neck, down along his spine to his ass, searching for an On-switch, or perhaps his charging port. They flipped him face up, one of them rapping him hard on the visor. “Power on, you stupid appliance. Stand up.”
Remote Obedience Monitoring Subroutine Initiating
Command: Stand Up
Enforcing in: 3... 2... 1...
Tony had barely time to read the writing in his HUD before the countdown hit zero. Suddenly his limbs were moving without his will. With feminine grace, he stood. So Pepper is still keeping an eye on me remotely, Tony realised. If I don't obey willingly, the AI in the suit will just override me.
The men gave low whistles at the exaggerated pistoning of his machine hips just from that simple manoeuvre as packing peanuts tumbling down his curves.
"Define 'tamper with'," one man muttered to his co-worker, searching again for the gynoid's charging port as his gaze wandered over its crotch. Tony squirmed at the thought of what they might do with him and, worse, what he might be programmed to obey. "Do you have a designation?" the man asked.
Command: Announce designation - Tony Stark
Enforcing in: 3... 2...
Shit. "My name is... MaidBot," Tony blurted quickly, cancelling the countdown. "How may I be of service?” The suit modulated the tone of his words into precisely the type of lurid semi-orgasmic moan that would perfectly befit a sexdoll.
New designation: MaidBot
“This has got Tony written all over it,” the man chuckled with a knowing wink. "Alright, maid, wait there while we figure out how you work."
Command: Wait
Enforcing: Indefinitely
Hs limbs locked up as immobile as a statue as they thumbed through his user manual. He couldn't see the pages from where he stood, but with every one of their eyebrow raises and perverted smirks, his nervousness grew. One of the men kept voicing an interest in the 'chest-mounted coffee maker' and 'internal milk reservior'.
Meanwhile the presence of this new 'prototype' was spreading in the department. Heads poked through the door of the office - male heads mostly. Research and Development was one of the more intensely competitive areas of Stark Industries, and so attracted the meathead macho types just as much as the tech nerds. His chemical sensors were reporting heightened aerosolised hormone levels to the HUD but, even sealed in the suit, he could taste the testosterone in the air.
The men looked up from their reading.
"Okay, maid, we want you to..."
[To be determined in comments]