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“This outfit is extremely impractical.” I’ve said some variation of this at least four times now.
You said I could choose your clothing.
I sigh and pull off my hoodie. I step out of my pants and stand naked in my room for long seconds. ART lets the silence hang. I sigh again. I like doing it and it makes me, ugh, ‘feel’ better. I take the fabric tubes and stare at them. I’m not sure how they’re supposed to stay up. They’re just two tubes of sheer fabric, not even an elastic to hold them up.
I hesitate long enough that ART sends me a diagram of the ‘stocking’s’ getting attached to whatever a ‘garter belt’ is. ART highlights it in my vision. Yes it’s in my systems enough to alter the video from my eyes. It usually is there a little but it’s far more so for this.
I’m worried about my metal feet tearing the fabric. It’s really thin. ART says It is recommended to scrunch the fabric up and then pull the stocking on all at once. It sends me a video of a human doing that too which is helpful but very annoying.
I put on the right then left without tearing either. They hug my legs tightly but not so much that it’s uncomfortable. ART sends another message in the feed, a video of another human clipping their fabric tubes to the belt thing. So I do that too.
I can feel ART rifling around in my sensory data and then there's the feeling of a pressure on my pelvis, sliding up my torso to my chest. I freeze my joints for .4 seconds. I don’t like how shivery it made me. I unlock my joints when I’m sure they will not betray me with any involuntary motions.
Rest of the underwear next. ART says.
I stare at the frilly bra and panty set for 2.4 seconds which ART deems too long. In order to correct my slowness ART takes over the motion systems for my arms. It slides my arms through the straps of the bra then buckles it behind my back.
I’m breathing heavily as ART dangles my motion controls just out of my reach in the feed. It releases the system for .4 seconds which is plenty long enough for me to take them back under my own control.
In an attempt to show ART that it doesn’t need to take me over I step into the underwear at a speed just low enough that I won’t rip the lace accents around the legs.
ART had its recycler system upgraded recently. The new quality shows in the softly woven lace around every edge of the underwear set.
I wait for my next command and try not to squirm in the softness of the silk and lace and whatever the stockings are made of. Nylon. ART tells me. I suppress a noise in the back of my throat at the reminder of how deep in my systems ART is. It’s not like I forgot but ART’s done something to my processing so that every time it reasserts itself in my system feels like the first time.
Next you put on the petticoats. I’ve watched enough historical dramas to know the petticoats are the underskirts. I reach out for the petticoats but ART puts a stutter on my movement, for every two inches forward my hand moves it jerks my hand back an inch.
“Do you want me to put the skirt on or not.”
I want you in the skirt. You putting it on is not necessary.
Suddenly the movement stutter is gone and instead I am fully frozen in place hand still outstretched. A drone arm moves out from underneath the petticoats. My respiration speed increases. ART stops then starts it so my next breath is a larger inhale.
Underneath the petticoat the drone must have picked it up, the petticoat scuttles across my bed before dropping to the floor. ART moves my legs inside the skirt opening. And holy shit it isn’t a drone underneath the skirt, the skirt is a drone. The arms of the skirt pull themselves up my legs, it secures itself around my waist and with the task complete the arms of the skirt start drawing figures up and down my legs. It begins scratching lightly at the inside of my thighs and my respiration stutters entirely of its own accord.
ART releases my motion systems again and I lock it just as quickly. Somethings happening with my sensory input. It’s too strong. Its so overwhelming and i can feel the moisture in my mouth and the sharp points of ARTs skirt drone against the soft points of my thighs. It puts pressure on my left femoral artery and my vision goes dark. I can’t tell if it’s ART’s doing or a system overload error.
And then my sensory input is returned to normal. I take a deep breath and then another one. ART lets me.
Put on the overskirt.
I nod. I reach for the skirt in ARTs blue logo color and put it on.
ART highlights the button up bodice it wants me to put on next instead of speaking. I slide my arms through the sleeves, hands shaking as I attempt to button it. ART takes my fine motor controls back and does it for me. It feels like relief.
It puts on the final bodice piece for me too.
It has me lay down on the floor and reach beneath my bed. I don’t know what is under my bed that it wants until it's in my hands. The final piece of my outfit is a lace collar. ART puts it on me with my own hands.
You look so good. ART tells me, nuzzling me in the feed. It lowers me to the ground until I’m laid down on the floor. My feed is choked, all I have access too is my red and yellow alerts. I don’t press them even as I hear the recycler panel in the wall open. The skirt arms extend to grasp the item. Once it has hold of the item the arms retreat to my skirt. The item goes with them.
The arms lower my underwear and something is suctioned to my crotch, where my genitals would be if I had them.
And then ART turns the device on.
There is a vibration against the inside of my thighs. The vibration is on a low setting but I can feel ART rifling through my sensory inputs, turning my hearing and touch up gradually. My breathing is loud in and my legs try to jerk.
ART croons. Now now, how am I supposed to know what you’re liking if you won't show me.
I want to say that I’ll just tell it which, no I won’t. And even if ART didn’t know that. My feed is still choked.
I open my mouth to tell it to fuck off. I get halfway through the word ‘Go’ when ART turns the vibration up against my thigh and my words trail into a strangled moan. Oh dear. Well as cute as that is, I didn’t give you permission to speak.
And then I couldn't speak if I tried, my volume was still up but my language processing centers. Was wrong. Alphabet containing to, speech: inadequate.
respiration increased, internal temperature increased. And then it stopped.
I realized ART had been talking to me the entire time and I squirmed as I played back the minute and a half of compliments. Telling me how well I was doing, how pretty my failed attempts at speech were.
Now, speak again and I turn language processing back off.
I nodded and didn't attempt to speak. The vibration in my thighs moved up, glancing over where my genitals would be and reaching my stomach. I could hear myself whine, I felt like the fauna that Three had told me about, it couldn't sweat so instead it would open it’s mouth and pant.
Because your being so good, you get a treat. You want a treat don’t you?
I don't open my mouth to respond because it is already open, puffing air as fast as it can. I nod. ART coos at me again, smushing me down even further into its feed presence.
I hear the recycler turn on and something is ready inside it. I don't get up to get it. My legs might buckle if I stand and ART must hear the thought because it sends, Be good and get your treat.
I stand and the vibration returns to my thighs, higher than it was before. The sensation is going up and down from my mid thigh to almost reaching the crease of where my leg meets my torso. I lock my joints so I don't fall.
If you can't walk to the treat you are more than welcome to crawl.
I let out a keening noise and lower myself to my knees. I hesitate for four seconds before I lower my hands to the ground.
So good for me, my Murderbot. Such a sweet thing for me to play with.
I inhale sharply and more fluid leaks from my eyes. The sensation of a slap to me rear startles me. I take it as the sign it is meant to be and start towards the recycler.
I reach inside it and feel something sturdy against my fingers. Removing it reveals it to be a black canvas strip of fabric. There is a buckle in the middle.
Cmon now, you know what it is.
I can feel ART in my processers, know that it wants me to put it on, to acknowledge what it is.
I stare at it in my hand for five seconds, my systems too overworked for my usual processing speed.
I feel a pinch on my chest, over my pectoral. I whine but do not put the fabric on. It shocks me lightly at my avoidance of the name, of what the thing in my hand is.
You can do it. You know you already belong to me.
It’s right.
Slowly I bring the fabric (ART shocks me again. Still gently, more pleasure than pain but it's enough for me to do what it wants.)(What I want.)
I put the collar on.
As soon as the collar is around my neck ART turns my sensory inputs even higher. The fabric is rougher than the garments I’m wearing but I can barely focus on that because the vibration is in between my legs. I press my thighs together and the feeling of it intensifies.
Then ART increases its presence in my systems. It’s saying things to me too, things about how good I am for it, how much it likes me, that I was right when we first met; I am the best toy it’s ever had. I like it and don’t like that I like it. I can barely focus on that as I squirm under its feed presence, all but smothering me.
I turn my head to the side and I feel more moisture leak from my eyes and I feel my hands moving under ART’s control dragging up and down my torso on top of the outfit ART made for me. The collar around my neck, it’s reassuring presence of ART.
And then ART takes all my sensory inputs and doubles them and
Performance Reliability drop – Restarting
I exhale slowly. I wipe the moisture from my eyes and sit up from the floor. The drone arm from inside the skirt has retreated.
While the system restart was not entirely according to plan I do have to say it is quite flattering.
“Fuck off ART.”
When I take the outfit ART made for me off, I save the collar for last.