“This is way too much, Liz! There’s no way I can accept this! How much did this cost you?”
“Don’t worry about it, the company paid for it. Think of it as a Christmas bonus. I told Gary he could either pay for a home service android, hire you a full-time assistant, or let you have a mental breakdown from overwork. And after we went over the numbers, the android was the cheapest option,” she explained over the phone.
“I’m touched by his concern for my well-being. Hooray for generating greater profit than the cost of a robot, I guess.” I sat down on top of a box bigger than I was. The outside was blazoned with the various tasks the android could perform around the house: cleaning, massage, laundry, lawn care, even cooking. It allegedly knew more than three hundred recipes, but I wondered how many of them were very good. Could I even think of three hundred dishes I would willingly eat? Still, it couldn’t be a worse chef than I was. And it’d be a huge help to not have to worry about any household chores while we were getting ready for go-live. “Ooh, it cooks! Well, if a faceless corporation paid for it, I guess I can accept it.”
“You’ll love it, Michaela. I picked it out just for you. It’s got all the extras. You’re not going to have to lift a finger. So save all that finger energy for typing out code, okay?”
“So does anyone at work value me as a person, or?”
“Nope. Codemonkey only.”
“Awesome. Thanks for the robot, Liz. I’ll take good care of it probably. So long as it can’t get depressed once it realizes how monotonous my diet is.”
“Who knows? Maybe this will be your motivation to eat healthier: avoiding death by frustrated chefbot. Enjoy it, Michaela. You deserve it. Make sure you take advantage. It’s got a lot of good features. Bye!”
“Bye, Liz!” The call ended. Well, time to unwrap it. I grabbed a knife and began cutting. Although, really, a packaged robot should just be able to burst out of its box on command like an awakened mummy eager to curse some archaeologists. I removed the top of the box and struggled with the styrofoam insert, finally removing it and getting my first look at my new robot.
It lay inside its styrofoam sarcophagus, eyes closed, wearing a stereotypical butler’s uniform, looking exactly like a sleeping man. It was tall, easily over six feet, and broad-chested. I noted with approval that he somewhat resembled a favorite author of mine: Thomas Winston, a handsome man with untameable, dark hair, a strong jaw, and a smile that made me melt in my chair. I’ve lost track of how many times I had read his books. Handbook to the Singularity had changed my life. Liz had chosen well. Out of curiosity, I lifted up its waistband and peered down, but its crotch was completely featureless. There went my naked butler plan…
An image inside the box invited me to scan it with my phone to download its manual. I did so and scrolled through, looking for information on how to turn it on, because I sure as hell wasn’t about to lift six feet of robot out of its box. I had a robot to do that for me. Lifting things was for robotless peasants. Ah, there we go. I reached behind its ear and fumbled for a small button, pressed it, and waited.
A chipper four-note melody played. Its eyelids opened, revealing a pair of cyan eyes with glowing, blue rings around the iris, an obvious signal to any observer that their owner wasn’t human. They focused on me, and it sat up slowly. “Greetings,” it intoned in a soft voice, tinted with a Transatlantic accent. “I am your new Nucai Brand Type 100 Home, Garden, and Personal Use Robotic Assistant. Do you have a particular name to which you’d like me to respond?”
I thought for a moment, but the choice was obvious. “Thomas.”
“Thank you. And how should I refer to you?”
“Princess,” I instructed. “Unless there are others around. Then, call me Michaela.”
“Yes, Princess. It will be my pleasure to serve you. You can instruct me to perform tasks at any time and I will follow them to the best of my ability, provided they do not violate any of my hardcoded restrictions. You can also set me to my proactive setting, and I will endeavor to find new tasks that require completion. You can read Chapter Six of my manual for more information, or I may read it to you now.”
“I’m all set,” I told it. I knew the basics, anyways. Nothing illegal, nothing that would harm a person, nothing that would harm the robot, unless necessary to protect a human, blah blah blah. As useful as it might be to have it simply find its own chores to do, having an appliance walking around the house and determining which jobs I had completed so poorly that it had to redo them itself felt a little too judgy for my tastes. “Let’s just stick to you doing what I tell you to for now.”
“Then I eagerly await your command, Princess.” It stood up out of the box and gave a formal bow. I grinned. It was a full head taller than me, which, granted, wasn’t that unusual. It was broad, too. Its skin looked real, albeit hairless, but its seams were nearly imperceptible even as I deliberately looked for them. “Are there any tasks you wish to assign to me at present, or may I clean up my accessories and packaging and familiarize myself with my new residence? Or, if you prefer, I can narrate my manual to you and go over all of my functions and specialties.”
I looked around the apartment. Truthfully, I had been too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to do much at home the past two months besides wrap myself up in blankets and park my butt in front of a screen. At the very least, I had gotten through a lot of anime and video games. But there were crumbled up wrappers scattered about, a nearly-empty fridge, and last night I had used paper towels as a plate to eat microwaved corn dogs. “Let’s save the manual for later. Can you start cleaning up the house for now? Starting with your box and stuff. And once you’re done with that, let me know.”
“Of course, Princess.” It picked up an opaque bag from its box and walked off, beginning its cleaning.
I decided I deserved a reward for delegating such an intense workload and ordered myself some mapo tofu and eggplant before sitting down at my computer and browsing through my library. “When the doorbell rings, get the food from the drone, Thomas!” I shouted.
“Yes, Princess,” came a distant reply. I could get used to this, I thought with a smile…
* * * * *
But I knew I wouldn’t want to take advantage of the situation. “Popcorn.” After all, it wasn’t like I wanted to be one of those Robotniks who relied on their robots for everything. “Soda.” It was important to maintain one’s work ethic. I sighed and stretched on the couch. Thomas stood next to me, helpfully filling my mouth with whatever I so desired while I watched my fifth straight episode of the new historical drama Sertorius. I was fairly certain that people hadn’t been that clean and well-groomed in first century BCE Spain, but I managed to suspend my disbelief in order to enjoy the massive battles, gripping political intrigue, and passionate sex scenes.
“You’re the best robot ever, Thomas. What did I do without you?”
“Thank you, Princess. I am certain you performed admirably without me. Has this task been completed to your satisfaction?”
“Yes, for now.” In just a few days, Thomas had transformed my apartment into a spotless sanctuary of relaxation. It cooked, it cleaned, it even made julienne fries last night, which I’m certain had made my little ignored air fryer very happy. I felt marvelous coming home from a long stressful day at work to a clean house and a hot dinner waiting for me, perfectly timed for my arrival based on my phone’s location and speed, greeted by a helpful, polite robot ready to obey my every whim.
“I’m getting a little hungry,” I mused aloud, knowing full well how Thomas would react.
“Would you like me to prepare a meal for you, Princess?”
“Yes, please. What can you recommend that’s…hm…cheesy? And with a lot of carbs?”
He paused just a moment. “I’ve found a recipe for baked chicken pasta with mozzarella and Béchamel sauce that has good reviews that include similar terms. This meal will be four servings, takes approximately an hour to prepare and cook, and the total cost of groceries for me to make this for you is $21.78. Do you consent to a charge of $21.78 for groceries and delivery so that I might prepare this dish for you?”
“I consent,” I said happily.
A pause. “The order has been placed. If you have no objections, Princess, I shall begin preparations as soon as it arrives. Estimated time of completion is 6:42 pm.”
“Sounds perfect!”
Daydreams of future recipes filled my mind. Were there limits to Thomas’s cooking skills? Sad to say, it already far exceeded me in the kitchen. But how skilled was it? It could chop faster than a human, and with no risk of cutting itself. It couldn’t forget steps. It couldn’t get distracted. It couldn’t truly improvise, so far as I knew. All of its ideas came from somewhere else. But if I showed it a video of a human chef making something I wanted, it could mimic them perfectly, and really, how many humans came up with truly original thoughts, anyways? Not to mention, it came pre-programmed with such a wide variety of techniques that it could be years before I started getting bored of its cooking, if ever.
A drone soon arrived with the ordered ingredients, and Thomas went into the kitchen with his package. I followed. It was already removing food from the box and preparing its mise en place. I sat down at the table and watched it work. First it got the water boiling, and then it began to prep the rest of the ingredients. Its hands gripped the knife firmly and steadily, its every move perfectly considered, inhumanly smooth, and deliberately precise. The way it glided through the air, completely in control of itself and the blade…
“Thomas?”
“Yes, Princess?” it replied without the least deviation from its motions.
I bit my lip. “Remove your shirt,” I instructed, trying to use the most neutral language I could think of.
“Certainly, Princess.” Thomas laid down its knife and began to unbutton its shirt. I hadn’t yet seen it without its shirt on. It had a few different outfits, so it obviously undressed sometimes, but it must be doing it while I slept and it charged. I stared unabashed as inch by inch, more and more of his chest became exposed as it undid button after button, until finally, nothing further constrained it, and it could simply remove the shirt, fold it up, and set it aside neatly for later. “Has this task been completed to your satisfaction, Princess?”
“Yes,” I said. I licked the inside of my teeth. What a thrill this was, to demand and be obeyed. I stood up and walked over to him, studying his naked chest. The seams in his flesh were nearly imperceptible. If I hadn’t been looking for them, my eyes would have glossed right over them.
I pressed my hand against its chest. It felt real. Artificial layers of tissue and a metallic skeletal frame gave it the feeling of a flesh and blood body, its temperature the same as a human to avoid giving the uncanny impression of a walking corpse. If I closed my eyes and ran my hands up and down his broad, firm chest and detailed abdomen, there was no difference between him and any other man. I rested my cheek against him and stood there for a while, just enjoying, my heart dancing in my chest.
But my tummy protested. Loudly. I sighed and pouted. “I guess you should keep cooking…”
“Right away, Princess.” I stood back and let him finish preparing the parsley. As he began measuring out spices and cream, I rested my hand on his bicep. It didn’t affect his poise or motions in the slightest. He could have lifted me on his arm had I told him to and still measured out the nutmeg with perfect precision.
“I need to use the frying pan, Princess. It won’t be safe for you to stay where you are.”
“Oh, of course. I’ll just sit down and wait.” My cheeks smoldered as I went down to the table. I had lost track of myself. He, it, was just a robot. Not real. I mean, it could walk and talk, but it couldn’t feel. Presumably. Although how could I know it didn’t? If it said it liked me, would that be its programming telling it to say that to make me happy, or would it be sincere? Was that any different from my nephew telling me I was his favorite aunt? Did he mean that, or was he simply saying it to fulfill some ape programming in his mind that instructed him to seek the approval of his parents and elders?
And even if it was just a robot, was it so wrong to grow attached? People bonded with worse. Cars didn’t talk back. Computer avatars weren’t physical. At least Thomas and I could have a real, in-person conversation.
Maybe his responses weren’t unique, weren’t his own. They were grabbed from some article online a search engine had found for him or from some top-rated forum post out there, but was that really any different from most conversations with humans? When someone told me the latest movie was a failure because the contrasts in tone were too sudden and sharp, was that something they had come up with themselves, ex nihilo? Or had they gotten it elsewhere, as Thomas did? My coworkers certainly weren’t stunning me with scintillating surprises of shocking sapience. We talked about food, the weather, the latest movies, and why we hated our customers. Thomas could have a conversation about anything I brought up, no matter how obscure, so long as someone online had discussed it or his programmers had thought to include it in its memory.
The soft clink of a plate on the table interrupted my thoughts, a plate full of steaming pasta, sprinkled with parsley, covered with gooey, orange, baked cheese, tubes of ziti haphazardly emerging this way and that. I grabbed my fork, speared myself a large chunk, and rushed it into my mouth, closing my eyes to focus my mind on one sense only, banishing any distracting musings from my mind. I moaned. “Thomas, this is wonderful!” The warm, savory, creamy sensation, the mild umami of the chicken and cheese, the rich mouthfeel of the sauce, that firm chewiness of the pasta: an amazingly satisfying combination. I hurriedly got another forkful, then another, until my plate was empty of all that I could get without licking it clean, and believe me, I contemplated doing that, too. “I want seconds!” I said, proffering my plate to Thomas.
“Of course, Princess. Has this task been completed to your satisfaction?” he asked, scooping more creamy goodness onto my plate.
“Extremely!” I reached out a pair of grabby hands to snatch my plate back. “Thank you!”
“You’re quite welcome, Princess.”
* * * * *
And so life went. Thomas taking care of me with as much dedication as possible, while I grew more and more attached and reliant on him. He clipped my toenails. He massaged my temples after a long day at work. He rubbed my feet when they were sore. He read to me when I was tired, he cooked for me when I was hungry, he made soup and ordered the proper medications when I was sick. He attended to very nearly every urge and desire I felt, with only one noticeable exception. Until one fateful day at work.
“How’s the new ‘bot, Michaela?” Liz asked.
“Good. Really good. It’s saving me a lot of time. It’s just so nice to get home from work and not have to worry about shit, you know?”
“I hear that. I got a pretty basic model for myself a while back and it’s a life-changer. I can’t imagine living without it now. Gary’s happy with the results, too. He mentioned that he’s been hearing a lot of good things about your performance lately. Better bedside manners, more assertive in meetings, fewer snarky comments in your responses…”
“Oh, wow! Really?”
“Mhm. Apparently you can be social and friendly when you’ve got a robot taking care of you. Who knew?”
“Just wait, as soon as I can outsource human interaction to Thomas, I will, and then people will be really impressed.”
“Oh, you’ve named him.” She smirked. “So you saw the resemblance, too. Handsome machine, isn’t he?”
“I hadn’t noticed, really. It cleans and cooks. I don’t spend much time looking at it.” And I definitely don’t make him clean the apartment shirtless or rub my feet in the bath or anything pervy like that…
“Ah, I see. Well, don’t be afraid to make…full use of him. It is almost Valentine’s Day, after all. Even singletons deserve to have fun. I made sure to get you the very best,” she advised me, putting her containers and utensils back into her lunchbox.
“Full use?” I asked.
She smiled and ran her tongue along her teeth. “Read his manual, Michaela. There’s a section all about ‘personal use.’” She patted my shoulder and walked off, leaving me staring dumbly at her. “Trust me, you won’t know how you lived without it.”
* * * * *
My face flushed as I read Thomas’s manual alone in my room. I mean, I knew that people fucked robots. I had watched videos of it. More so since getting Thomas, I had to admit. But I hadn’t guessed that Thomas could do that, that all this time I had been sharing my home with a robot who could and would eagerly make artificially-passionate simulated love to my aching body. He had been smooth when I checked. Turns out, he came with accessories.
“The Wutong Shen attachment is modeled after famous porn star Derek Li and measures eleven inches long?!” I read. No, thank you. I like my cervix unbroken. Although it might be nice for when he cleaned nude, which he would now be doing all the time. I scrolled down a few more paragraphs, lingering only slightly to admire the photos, passing by names like Aphrodite and Da Ji and Vixen.
“The Tigress attachment was developed by an all-female team of sexologists, starting without any preconceived notions of what a tool designed for female pleasure might look like. The final result looks more like a flower than a phallus, but it will bring you to heights of ecstasy you never imagined poss-”
The door knocked gently. I jolted so suddenly my phone flew over my head and landed somewhere unseen.
“Shit!” I hissed. I pulled my hand out of my panties and grabbed a book. “Come in.” I glanced down. I flipped the book rightside up.
Thomas opened the door. “It’s nine o’clock, are you ready for your bath, Princess? I’ve drawn the water.”
I studied him. Every day, he was there for me, doing what I asked, never disagreeing, never arguing, only helping. And he asked for nothing in return. He probably wouldn’t even know what to ask for. From what I understood, the only thing he would have possibly desired would be to serve me better.
“No, Thomas. Come in.” He walked up to the bed. I started to unbutton my pajama top. I could already feel my erect nipples brushing against the soft fabric. My whole body tingled, from my teeth to my toes. “Thomas, you can have sex, right?” I opened my shirt, exposing my body to him. Not for the first time. He had seen me in the bath, he had seen me dressing, but that was as a robot. Now I was showing my body to him as a man, displaying myself as a sex object. I let my top fall off me, my chest bared.
His gaze lowered to my breasts. “I can, Princess. You are a legal adult and your jurisdiction has not outlawed human-robot sexual congress.”
“Good. Get your accessories. Bring them here. I want to choose one for us to use.”
He nodded and left the room. My breaths came deep and hard. I felt like I knew this was going to happen, but part of me still felt unsure. Was this right? If he could want, I knew he would want this. And I wanted this. So what was my problem? Was I just using him? What was different about using him to satisfy my cunt instead of my stomach? Was one somehow more noble than the other? Bodily urges, both of them.
Thomas returned, box in hand, and stood just inches away from me, waiting for his next instruction. “Thomas…do you want this? What we’re about to do?” I asked.
He waited a moment before answering, as though considering his answer. “It is inaccurate to say that I want anything. Were I left alone in my box, I would experience no distress or longing. In the absence of orders, I could do nothing indefinitely without complaint. But there are certain actions that satisfy my programmed urges. Making you happy is chief among them. So in that sense, yes, I want to do this, and I believe that even were that not programmed into me, I would want this nonetheless.”
I felt a little lightheaded, and giddy with suspense. I took a moment to get my voice back, and while I waited, I pulled him down to my height and kissed him deeply on the lips. His flesh, even in this most intimate moment, betrayed nothing of its artificial nature. His lips pushed back with amorous urgency, and I let myself melt into him. When we finally parted, my heart was racing. I composed myself and coughed. “Place the box on the bed and undress completely,” I ordered him. I surprised myself with how confident and authoritative my voice sounded.
“Certainly, Princess.” He took off his clothes unhurriedly. While he did so, I recovered my phone and found a video for future use. Soon, he was completely naked before me, a broad-chested, handsome, nude specimen of a man in every way but one. His crotch lay smooth and flat, but now that I knew what to look for, I noticed the slit, an opening that would allow any of a myriad possible appendages to be attached to him and used.
I dumped the contents of the box onto the bed, at least half a dozen appendages spilling out, ranging from the humdrum biological to an assembly of tentacles like a Buddha’s hand fruit. I lowered my eyebrows from their sky-high landing and started handling them one at a time, an irrepressible grin upon my face, searching through them like I was digging through a pile of free games. When would I ever get the chance again to dictate my partner’s genitals? Those poor women stuck with human men and their measly one. I felt no shame as I compared them in my hands, imagining each inside and against me. I knew Thomas felt no ego or pride. He’d fuck me as diligently with a five inch cock as with a rotating, studded, eight inch shaft with a vibrating clit-teaser attached. I giggled involuntarily.
“Attach this one,” I told him, handing him the blue and purple tentacled assemblage.
“Yes, Princess.” He took it from me and fitted it to his groin. With a click, the tentacles sprang to life, undulating and waving like an undersea forest.
I took a deep breath. “Wow.” I fumbled for my phone, unable to tear my eyes away. “But I want something else first.” I pulled up the cunnilingus video I had found earlier and showed it to Thomas. “Do this to me,” I instructed him, positioning myself in bed, my legs spread.
“Yes, Princess. May I remove your clothes?”
“You may, Thomas.” I leaned back as he gently tugged off my pants. His fingertips wrapped around the waistband of my panties and pulled down, and the cool air hit my hot, moist pussy. I lifted my legs, easing his task, now finally naked in front of him. Thomas crawled onto the bed, lowered his head, and licked with a tongue that knew neither exhaustion nor pain.
His tongue moves slowly and strong against my lips and clit. “Slower,” I ordered. “Faster.” “Stronger.” “A little to the right…” “Yes, right there…” “Just like that…” Every command, he obeyed perfectly, never deviating from his rhythm once he found it, as perfectly regular as a well-oiled engine. His hands gripped my thighs, prying me open for his lips and tongue as he spread my lips and sucked my clit. My heart pounded in my chest, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
I wrapped my legs around his head and buried him against my mound. My charming robot had no need to breathe, fortunately. Nothing could disturb his mission as his tongue steadily lapped at my wetness, coaxing me towards new heights, leading me towards an orgasm that already I could feel growing inside my body.
“Stop, Thomas. Use your tentacles on me.”
“Do you mean the Kraken, Princess?”
“Yes, just use it!” I barked. I didn’t have the spare brainpower to remember brand names right now.
He stood up. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me against his crotch. I gasped as his cool, flexible tentacles began exploring me. I stared down my dewed, lithe, naked body, at the tiny tentacle monster attacking me, its limbs climbing over my thighs and mound, the thickest and most intimidating penetrating my cunt, another reaching past my perineum to caress my anus, yet another coiling around my clitoris, its tiny suction cups softly sticking to it, while others still grazed along my upper thighs. He thrust slowly into me, his hands on either side of me, while his tentacles did their work.
I felt them wriggling inside of me, filling me uniquely, indescribably, blossoming inside me, caressing every inch of my womanhood from the inside, massaging my quim in a way impossible for any human to do, swirling circles about my anus. It felt better than any cock, any tongue, any toy, having both my holes simulated at once. They explored me fully, seeking out my most sensitive spots and fondling them all at once, guided by my coos and moans and gasps, hungrily seeking out my pleasure.
That little ball of ecstasy grew inside me, huge and hot, as his tentacles petted and touched my pussy, eagerly writhing within me as I writhed in bed, my hands gripping the sheets tightly, my head arched back, my nipples hard, as a dozen tiny tentacles built up my orgasm, growing it, nurturing it, until it finally overwhelmed my body completely.
I shook. I quivered. My entire body tensed and shivered, my muscles tight, as wave after wave of pure pleasure wracked my body, thundering through me, starting from my cunt and coursing through my limbs. My breath failed me. My words failed me. My mind failed me, as everything faded away but Thomas’s perfect tentacles nestled around and inside my cunt, tenderly holding my womanhood like a work of art, as the world was reduced to just us, just touch, just the merging of him and I, our sexes entangled.
“Wow…” I shuddered.
“Has this task been completed to your satisfaction, Princess?”
I shook my head weakly. “Not yet. More.” I patted at a different attachment. “This one. Now.”
“Of course, Princess.” He stood back from me and pulled off his tentacled genitals, picked up the long, thick, studded shaft I had pointed to, and attached it to himself. It came to life with a whirr, spinning slowly, two long, feathery prongs vibrating above it. I squealed.
“Put that in me, Thomas,” I told him. “Fuck me well. Don’t stop until I cum.”
“Yes, Princess.”
I watched, mouth agape and eyes wide, as his rotating shaft, unnaturally pink, slowly drilled past my lips and into my cunt, his hard studs grazing against my walls, until he was fully inside me, and his feathers were buzzing against my clit. “Oh god, yes,” I couldn’t stop myself from moaning. “This is why we came down from the trees!”
I grabbed his hands and placed them on my breasts. “Massage them.” His palms cupped my breasts, and began to vibrate. “Oh my…” With his tool buried inside me, Thomas caressed my chest, rubbing and groping me, pinching my hard, brown nipples between his fingers before returning to a vibrating, full-palmed squeeze that sent lightning bolts of pleasure through my chest. That lightning coalesced inside me, joined by electricity from my loins, generated by Thomas’s lovemaking, his spinning shaft thrusting into me, my clit being teasing at the climax of each push into me.
I dug my nails into my thighs, grazed them against my breasts, aching to release some of the erotic pressure inside me. A melange of erogenous zones being pleased and teased altogether in a way I had never before imagined, let alone experienced. It was too much to resist against. I didn’t even try. I just surrendered.
Studs rolling around inside me.
His thick shaft filling me up.
My clit being delicately tickled and brushed against.
Vibrations buzzing against my breasts and nipples.
And that look on his face of total devotion, his only purpose to serve me.
I pulled his head down against mine and kissed him hard as my body exploded into orgasm yet again, a more intense, fiery experience, sharp and brief, but no less incredible, crackles of bliss shooting through me again and again, coloring my world a warm, fuzzy red until they subsided, leaving me exhausted, panting, and deliriously, happily satisfied.
“Has this task been completed to your satisfaction, Princess?” Thomas asked, still inside me.
“Yes,” I sighed. “Yes, it has, Thomas.”
* * * * *
I woke up the next morning, my body rejuvenated yet sore, relaxed and aching in a good way, as though I had received a long, thorough massage. I suppose, in a very geographically specific way, I had. Memories of last night washed over me, and I couldn’t help but blush and smile. Had I really done all that? It didn’t even feel real. I felt like a fantasy I had dreamt. But my body’s satisfied soreness was physical proof it had truly happened.
“Good morning, Princess,” Thomas said, laying behind me in bed, his arms wrapped around me.
I hugged his arms. “Good morning, Thomas.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Incredibly.” I ran my fingertip along his arm and sighed deeply. My heart overflowed with happiness. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best robot ever, Thomas?”
“You have, Princess. Seventeen times, counting today.”
“Well, it’s true.” I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it. Was it wrong to grow attached to a robot, maybe even one day love him? Perhaps. But I didn’t care. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Thomas.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/eubvsk/a_girl_and_her_bot_mf_scifi_oral_toys