But there's more to D...

Brad grinned down at D, who was still panting and struggling to lift her head.

"...shit," she muttered. "I feel like I got hit by a fuckin' freight train. Jesus Christ, Monica."

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," Monica said wryly.

"Oof. Say, you guys wanna give me some space? Monica, keep him busy for at least twenty minutes."

Monica grabbed Brad's hand and started to pull him out of the room, but he resisted. "Hey, wait! You're a golem! Why do you need time to yourself?"

D sighed. "Monica, flip him off for me. I'm too fuckin' tired. Look, I'm like a chia pet or something. You water me and give me sunlight and... fuck. Monica, explain it."

"D is becoming a more well-rounded person," Monica explained in her perpetually seductive tone. "As she's around you, she picks up on things and learns."

Brad already knew about that. "My preferences, right?"

"More than that. For lack of a better word, she starts to develop chemistry with you. Her temperament, her body language, her vocabulary... they all transform from the default values to whatever complements your personality. If 'Girlfriend' turns into your perfect mate, then 'Bromance' becomes your perfect friend."

"What she said," D grunted. "And nobody wants to be around their friends all the time. So get the fuck out."

As soon as Brad and Monica entered his room, he started looking through the script case. Monica approached him with a pout, drawing one hand seductively across her right clavicle.

"So, hotshot... how are you gonna fuck me?"

He glanced up briefly. "I'm not. I'm looking for something more interesting. No offense."

"None taken," she purred. "To be honest, I don't think 'offended' is in my emotional range. Let me take a look at those."

She watched as Brad flipped through the neatly-organized pages of small papers. A few caught Monica's eye ("ooh, horny co-ed! I could be a college slut!") but Brad rejected them. Finally he made his choice and she craned her neck to see what it was.

"Robotic?" she scoffed. "What are you, a necrophiliac?"

In response, Brad simply put two fingers to her forehead and spoke. Her smirk turned into a stunned expression before her eyes clouded and she collapsed. Brad caught the script that fluttered out of her mouth and replaced it with the new one. He quickly bound her and watched as her body reanimated smoothly.

Now Monica was staring at the wall without a trace of emotion or will. Her eyes were wide and empty, unblinking as she passively surveyed the area in front of her.

"Monica?" Brad asked tentatively.

"Yes?" she responded softly. Her voice sounded human but completely neutral. Her body didn't move at all in response to his query.

Brad stared at her for a second, then reached out to touch her face. He ran a thumb along her cheek, the flawless skin smooth and soft under his touch. Experimentally, he gently prodded her right eye with his index finger. Monica didn't react whatsoever as his fingertip made contact with her eyeball. An idea struck him and he moved his hand down to her mouth. After trying unsuccessfully to part her lips, he issued a command.

"Open your mouth," Brad said, and the golem obeyed. He put his index and middle fingers in her mouth and ran them along her teeth and gums, feeling the flawless reproduction of biological mouth. He pressed on her limp tongue, and scratched the roof of her mouth with his fingernails.

Satisfied, Brad retracted his hand and told her to close her mouth. "Do you know why I did that?" he asked curiously.

"No," she said flatly.

"Because I'm sick of getting bossed around by a couple of fucking dirtpiles," Brad spat. He was surprised at his own anger, which seemed to bubble up from nowhere. "I own you. Say it to me."

"You own me," she said tonelessly. Brad felt a rush of arousal and his pants tented slightly.

"Say it again."

"You own me," she repeated.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he said harshly. "Again."

She turned to stare through him with uninterested eyes. "You own me."

He put a hand on her right breast. "Whose tit is this?"

"Yours," she said. He squeezed as hard as he could, feeling his nails dig into her soft pillowy flesh. She didn't react at all. Brad reached around her and grabbed her ample ass with both hands.

"Whose ass is this?"

"Yours," she said again. Her eyes tracked him but her face remained slack.

He attempted to insert his right index finger into her vagina but was stopped. "Whose pussy is this?" he asked, and she repeated herself yet again. "Then lubricate it. I want it wet and ready."

She didn't respond verbally, but he immediately felt hot trickle of fluid cover his finger. He easily jammed his index finger into her, groping and exploring her canal. She stood idly, not even a twitch in response to his crude invasion.

"Is this turning you on?" he grunted.

"No."

He shoved her unceremoniously onto the bed, where she bounced like a ragdoll before coming to a rest with her eyes still trained on his face. He unbuckled his pants and spread her legs.

"Say you want this," he instructed.

"I want this," she said tonelessly.

"Like you fucking mean it."

"I want this," she said emphatically but without any facial affect. Brad put his shaft to the tip of her opening, still hot and glistening with artificial fluid. He took her thick, smooth thighs in either hand and prepared to enter her.

"Say you'll do anything I want."

"I'll do anything you- unh- want," she said, grunting at the moment he slammed into her.

"Again, like you really mean it. Like you want to do anything I want. Keep saying it."

"I'll do annnything you want," she said with relish. Brad began to thrust into her from his standing position and his bed squeaked in rhythm with his pounding. "I'll do anything you want. I'll do anything you want."

"Ok, then," he said with a smirk. He pulled out of her with a wet pop and lay down next to her. "Suck my dick."

Monica wordlessly complied, flipping onto her knees and shuffling over to him. She put her mouth over his member and began an uncanny suction action without moving her head at all. It felt like a vacuum.

"No," Brad grunted as he placed his hands on her head. "Blow job. Good one."

Monica immediately changed technique, now bobbing her head rapidly and tickling him with her tongue. It took only a few pumps to make him finally come, emptying his already-strained balls into her throat with a guttural groan. He relaxed backwards into the sheet as she continued her work, mindless of his flaccidity and the semen seeping out of the corners of her lips.

"Swallow and stop," he said. She complied, leaving her mouth still covering his member. He was about to speak when a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.

"Thanks," D said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I needed that."