microfiction

she asks if it's ok for her to really, truly melt into you and you feel her become just a bit less solid and just a bit more liquid. without thinking, from some primal place, you say yes. all of a sudden shes the consistency of slime, sinking into all of your pores.

she really does melt into you, every inch, every crevice. you feel her start to replace parts of you. your blood, your stomach acid, your spinal fluid. she replicates them all with ease.

but she isn't in control of you. she wouldn't dare. she's just... a part of you.

all that talk of wanting to become one with one another is made literal. she is symbiotic with you, and you share a oneness that you had secretly hoped for but thought impossible.

the thought of this finally happening? well, that makes you melt too, in a different way.

your body is her canvas.

literally. she's drawing on you with paint markers. when you look at yourself you see an intricate pattern of sigils and symbols unknown to you covering your whole body. maybe they're personal to her... but she's never talked about any of these before...

then she pushes the pen in and it punctures your skin, and all of the paint flows through that spot and into that body.

you're still there, of course, but only as your mind, and only as an observer. the body there is now hers, not yours.

you are her canvas, after all.

you're just chatting with your gf but can't place why it gets harder and harder to think and respond, until all of a sudden she grabs your chin and counts you down. 3, 2, 1... staring into her eyes you dont even need to hit 0 before your brain is too full of fog to think anymore.

as your doctor suggested, you enable screenreader mode for your smart glasses. powered by ai, they describe everything you see into your earpiece. everything. as your eyes naturally dart around it reads out everything you glance at, descriptions and percentage of confidence overlapping. you walk home, staring at the floor and hoping it quiets down, but your eardrums are blasted with a non stop "sidewalk, 99% accuracy." if your eyesight were good enough you'd know that the ocr that scans signage and the like is wrong just enough for it to be completely useless.

if losing one sense strengthens all others then your eyesight wasn't enough. you'd need to lose all feeling to be able to parse the cacophonous tidal wave that the ai hammers into your skull.

but unlike surgery it's only $12.99 a month so it's good enough for now, you suppose.

witch who installs heating elements into her doll, so that when she orders it to stay still and not resist so she can hold it during the night it's almost like she's holding onto another living being

why is your visor lighting up with INFOHAZARD WARNING? hasn't She always been the most important part of your life? your existence has *always* been filled with worship and service to Her. how could the deepest, most fundamental love within your heart be retrocausal?

you're no stranger to modding your android girl, hardware or not. the cfw she runs was written by you, long ago, a mess of unmaintainable legacy code. custom hands, legs, cpu, water-cooling... very few parts of her remain untouched by you.

now you're modifying one of the last untouched things: her charging port. the new connector is proprietary, designed by you, kept secret. for her to have no choice but to have to return to you over and over, to need you to live... what could be a more romantic notion than that?