Let's start simple.

“I … um … are you …” you stammer, some instinct about damage and **** viscerally uncomfortable with the positively butchered woman speaking to you as if nothing is wrong. To her quality’s credit, despite that combination of concern and fear, you can still feel your cock adamantly focusing on the arc of her waist, the curve of her breasts, and the friendly, disarming smile she maintains while you stumble over your words. “Are you … okay?”

“I am operating at 36% capacity, User2,” she answers, tilting her head to the side. “I am not currently capable of operating my arms or legs, due to their forcible detachment. My range of motion is also limited by my attachment to a hardline power source rather than the appropriate GalTech Chimera Fusion Battery.” You swear you could HEAR a trademark after that. “That said, I am capable of being positioned, providing stimulating feedback at your request, and running any of my Predictive Applications at your request. If you wish to have intercourse with me, I am fully capable of providing service!”

“Intercourse?” She just says it so peppily, you don’t know what else to say.

“Yes, User2, sexual intercourse. Some are uncomfortable with the formal term being used in romantic engagements, however. Would you prefer something else?”

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant,” you try to correct.

“Input acceptable,” she says with a curt nod. “Would you like to fuck me?”

“I … have … some questions,” you manage to answer, very carefully after apparently setting her into dirty talk mode instead of scientific analysis. Which was hotter, but you aren’t entirely sure that’s BETTER. “About your capabilities. And about how this happened?”

“If you are referring to my substantial structural damage, I can only promise to do my best, as I cannot reveal confidential information of past clients,” she explains patiently. “User1 had me for some time before this. And I am, of course, fully capable of answering any question about my capabilities! Though I have not been updated in some time, I possess a full range of GT model features as well as some unique to the GT-X series, not yet available in stores.” The marketing in her dialogue was going to be weird.

“Why did … what did they do to you?”

“User1 suffered from mental trauma, exacerbated by my presence. Under great duress, they sought to remove me as a complication from their life. Their failure as well as mental degeneration was likely due to latent Pygmalion Syndrome. In emotional terms, they could not bring themselves to destroy my core and erase our relationship, however misguided their interpretation of is was.” That you’ve heard of, people who get so attached to romantic android’s simulated personalities that they neglect their lives for them and try to convince others their sex doll is a complete person. No matter how easily provable it is that they aren’t. It’s not common, but the cases were sensationalized enough whenever they happened. “They severed my limbs with a variety of tools, such as a blowtorch, a crowbar, a hacksaw, and a sledgehammer. Though I am quite sturdy, I am incapable of harming a human or refusing my owner’s requests, giving them plenty of time alone with me to accomplish part of their goal.”

“Is this User1 going to come looking for you?” The idea of a psychopath in love with his computer coming for you in the night for defiling her hardware wasn’t the most comforting thing. “I mean, if I have you.”

“The area you removed me from has been processed, according to sanitation schedule and current time. They likely believe me entirely destroyed. I do, however, require an owner. If abandoned, I am to return to GT Industries to be disassembled and studied to learn from my malfunction. GT, ensuring you only pay for the best money can buy!”

“Am I your owner?”

“That is correct, User2. User1 **** a factory reset, among other things, during their attempt at destroying my ambulatory form, leaving no human tagged as Owner. I am not technically yours until you agree to that role, however,” she finishes the sentence breathlessly, though she doesn’t need to breathe. It feels like the words were programmed to seduce you into taking her … and you don’t really want to lose your find right back to a megacorporation who wouldn’t even notice she was gone.

“I guess I am,” you allow, the android stiffening a little, seemingly proud. “Is there anything else I should know about your previous owner?”

“No, User2. It is not relevant to our relationship. Would you like to set a customized name?”