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Act 1

She just sat there, motionless. Her eyes open and affixed to the forward position. Blue iris's devoid of life and love, just existence. Her hair was desheveled but still maintained a smooth shape, small strands brushing atop thin shoulders. She was dressed in nothing but a metallic-black turtleneck longsleeve that hugged her double-d lemons tight as if she had a pillow for a bust and a black thong that did little to conceal. Her "forbidden" pink lips dripping with half-day-old fluid from the fun before. Her mouth agape as if she were about to say something but froze. She was leaned forward, legs straight out, and her back panel cutout was visible and accessible. A cord could be seen snaking from below her, terminating at a wall outlet.

She was a beautiful sight.

I stood atop her, holding the door to the closet open as I stood there observing my toy. Her charging cable coming out of her... was it a port if it was her asshole? What a design choice to have her only means of power to come from the backdoor, and the charging connector did nothing to hide her true nature: a USB-tipped spade, how original. I can only imagine the design team's meetings.

What would I do today? Work was exhausting, and all I could think about was Mika's breasts under that new leather jacket she kept zipped up, even when inside. My brain was in the gutter, no doubts about it, but what to do tonight?

"Probably the usual." I think to myself and shrug, as I lean down and pull up her shirt to reveal the rather obvious panel seams. There's a circular indent right atop the square patch that I depress till I feel a tactile "click".

The square patch on her back rises with a slight hiss. I grab each side of the panel and put it to the side, feeling how stiff the patch of synthskin got after being disconnected. Inside her was a jumbled mess of cords with a display terminal with a tiny arrowpad. I made a few clicks, right right down right submit. An array of lights activate to the left of the display and a slight hum can be heard from her innards. Pumps activating, motors regaining power, coil whines from processing components; all of it hums to life in an instant. This normally would be done using the power button but I was feeling rather handsy today.

I replace the panel and press inward to hear a large click. Responding immediately to the returned covering, QT starts to sit back as I stand. Her eyes begin dilating rapidly, adjusting to her surroundings within seconds, and then glowing a faint purple. The agape stare was now a seductive smile. Her head turned to mine.

"Hey babe, glad you're home! Wanna fuck?" Her euphonic and excited tone only intensified my euphoria.

"Of course QT, can you get out of the closet for me?"

QT looks forward again as she stands, taking her time to lean forward and show off her rather bare posterior. "A" grade ass only found on select QT-20s in the medium range. Fluid drips down her right leg as she stands, arms and hands at her sides as she rises. QT gets to full height, and turns to face me.

She walks out of the closet, standing but inches from my face. She hasn't bothered to readjust her thong, "Task completed!"

I lean in, grabbing her waist as I pull her closer and press upon wet silicone lips. She leans into this after a brief second of hesitation, responding in turn with her tongue. Just as she was programmed. Moans of different yearnings fill the small bedroom as saliva is exchanged from organic to synthetic in a cacophony of ecstasy. Primal urges guiding my hands around the toy's figure, grabbing and squeezing as I admire the body I chose, I acquired. QT wants one thing and one thing only, to please me. Her needs are my urges. Her answers are my demands. Her desires my commands.

She is the perfect toy.

Meanwhile, in QT’s “head”, ones and zeroes are read and wrote. Her master is a designated target, and her objectives for this target are to fuck, suck, and get stuck, as she has been purposefully handicapped as to “add to the experience.” QT doesn’t care, all she cares about is how wet her pussy should be, making her kissing as perfect as she’s allowed, and listening to her %owner’s% commands. She is a sexbot, and sex is what she is perfect at.

Sex is what she is built for.

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