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She poured it out into a pint glass, shooting it down faster than a human ever could. The effects took hold immediately, covering her aching joints in a sudden cool sensation. She really should do this more often. She was treated no differently in the outside world, but she had to remember that she was a machine. She had to be maintained, oiled, recharged, serviced, broken down, arranged into tiny pieces, reprogrammed, reminded that she was owned—
Laura reached out for the bar, grasping the tiled counter as hard as she could to steady herself. Occasionally her fantasies would get the better of her, sending her into a loop from which it was hard to escape. It did not look so different from a human daydreaming, but with her perfect recall and sensory programming being what it was it could be a much more intense experience. Ever since she had revealed herself to her husband these fantasies had become their reality: every delicious thought in her head, every possible combination of her metal body and his hands had played out in the bedroom. She had been the maid, a programmable hooker, the robot double that had “replaced” his wife, the perfect lover he had built to his exact specifications, even one of those animatronics dummies on a ride at Disneyworld. She had loved it all.
It was freeing being what she was…no, having him know what she was. Being able to share that with someone she loved dearly was as grand as it could get. But she knew she had to keep up appearances outside. Those feedback loops were just daydreams. Her lunch? No, she already ate. Booze? No thanks, she’s working. Anything to make sure the world believed she was a woman and nothing else.
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