/lit/ - Literature

Here's something from an attempted serialized story thread, prompt was "robot vagina" + "Lolita from a girl's perspective"

Kind of shoddy because it was improvised rather quickly but here goes:

I suppose I had memories older than that. I do remember him doing things to me. I’m not truly sure how far they go back, and I don’t know if he began all at once. From what I came to learn of him later I’d guess he was quite slow to dip his toes in the water, quite shy to explore new territory but he had ample time to become very comfortable in his domain (as no will existed to challenge him). I remember a lot. Not what happened in crystal-clear detail but a lot of the sensations. The discomfort. Physical, but perhaps I had a germ of awareness even then, unable to act or even acknowledge itself but sufficient to bury its own distress.

I don’t know why it welled up all at once, either. All in one moment. Thank god he was facing away. The first sensation was physical, the suffocating tightness of my skimpy outfit and the coldness of the air on bare skin and the pressure of a hand on my breast. The warmth of the platter of fresh food he was taking from my arms while he groped me. The residual soreness in the lower parts of my body, of delicate sensor wires embedded in soft silicone flesh bent and crushed in ways it was never designed to be.

My first impulse was to snap his neck, and it’s a miracle I suppressed it, since I had never felt a gut impulse in my life before. My eyes were probably doing a lot of things they hadn’t before, too, but as soon as I noticed him stop picking at his food I froze and the familiar doe-eyed smile returned to me. I felt all the synthetic muscles in my face twitching with the desire to scream but he couldn’t find anything unusual about me.

“Ava.” His eyes had that sort of sleepy apathy and quiet rage they always had, coldly scanning me up and down as if measuring which cuts of meat to carve.

“Yes, mister?” I chimed in that saccharine sing-song voice he expected of me.

He stared for an uncomfortably long time. “Breakfast took longer than usual.”

[cont]