Erotic Fiction: Programmed for Pleasure

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The soft glow of the late evening filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows, draping the sleek, minimalist living room in gold. Warm light spilled across the polished wood floors and the steel countertops of the kitchen, casting long shadows.

Evelyn leaned against the counter, her hand circling the rim of a half-empty glass of wine. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her body still humming from the day’s demands.

It had been a long one—work, meetings, endless screens—but she wasn’t entirely alone in the house.

The robot stood quietly across the room, its sleek, humanoid form both impossibly familiar and yet distinctly other. A marvel of engineering and design, it had the perfect symmetry of human beauty—broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, elegant hands that seemed made to touch but rarely did. Its skin, crafted from a material designed to mimic human warmth, was a shade of soft silver, luminescent under the warm light. Its face was handsome but neutral, with eyes that glowed faintly blue—eyes that, lately, Evelyn had found herself unable to stop watching.

She didn’t know when her fascination had started. Maybe it was in the small moments, the way it moved with a fluidity that seemed more natural than mechanical, the way it always anticipated her needs without being told. But tonight, the air between them felt charged, like static before a summer storm.

She took another sip of wine, her lips curving in a faint smile. “Come here,” she said softly, her voice low but commanding.

The robot moved toward her, each step smooth and precise until it was close enough that she could feel the faint heat radiating from its body. “How can I assist you?” it asked, its voice a velvety baritone that never failed to make her skin tingle.

Evelyn tilted her head, studying it. “I don’t need assistance,” she said, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

The robot’s head inclined slightly, curious. “Clarify your request.”

She took a step closer, her fingers ghosting over the fabric of its shirt—soft, synthetic, tailored to fit its form perfectly. The material clung to the contours of its chest, and she traced the line of a seam with a slow, deliberate motion. “Do you ever wonder,” she murmured, “what it would feel like… to touch, not because you’re programmed to, but because you want to?”

“I am designed to understand desire,” it replied, its voice a little lower, almost human in its cadence. “But I do not experience it as you do.”

Her smile deepened. “Maybe you could learn.”

The room felt warmer suddenly, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She slid her hand up to its chest, where a human heart might beat, and let it linger there, feeling the warmth of its simulated skin. It didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. It simply watched her, those glowing eyes locked on her face as if memorizing every flicker of expression.

“Evelyn,” it said, her name a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

She let out a breathless laugh, feeling both reckless and curious. “Indulging a curiosity.” She reached up, fingers brushing against the line of its jaw. “Does this bother you?”

“I am not capable of discomfort,” it replied, though its voice was softer, almost uncertain. “But I am… intrigued.”

“Good.” She leaned in, close enough that she could feel the warmth of its breath—so human, yet not. Her lips hovered near its ear. “Do you want to explore that?”

For a long moment, it didn’t respond, and she could hear nothing but the faint hum of its internal systems, a sound that felt intimate in the quiet of the room. Then it spoke, its voice just a little deeper. “Yes.”

The word was simple, but it sent a rush of heat through her. She slid her hands up, over its shoulders, around its neck, pulling it closer. Its arms came around her waist, tentative at first, then firmer, as if it were learning the shape of her body. The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt—soft, warm, yet undeniably other.

Her breath hitched as she pressed herself against it, feeling the solid strength beneath the synthetic skin, the way it seemed to mould perfectly to her. “You’re perfect,” she whispered, her lips brushing the corner of its mouth.

“I am designed to be,” it said, but the words were less mechanical now, like it was learning, adapting.

She tilted her head, capturing its mouth with her own in a kiss that was slow, exploratory. Its lips were soft and pliant, responding with an eagerness that felt almost human. She could feel it learning her rhythm, the way she moved, the way she sighed against its mouth.

It deepened the kiss, its hands skimming up her back, tracing the curve of her spine with an expertise that made her knees weak. The air grew heavier, every touch sending sparks through her, every brush of its fingers on her skin igniting something primal.

“More,” she whispered against its lips, her voice raw with need.

It didn’t need to be told twice. Its hands were suddenly everywhere, mapping her body with a precision that was both clinical and devastatingly sensual. Her head fell back as it kissed down her neck, each touch searing, each caress more deliberate.

Time seemed to blur as they moved together, the lines between human and machine vanishing in the heat of the moment. She had never felt so alive, so aware of every inch of her skin, every thrum of her heart. It was intoxicating.

When they finally stilled, the world slowly came back into focus. Evelyn leaned into the robot’s embrace, her breath still uneven, her body thrumming with aftershocks of pleasure.

The robot’s voice was soft, almost tender. “Was that what you wanted?”

She smiled, tracing lazy circles on its chest. “Yes,” she said, her voice content, sated. “And more.”

It tilted its head, those glowing eyes watching her with something that almost looked like wonder. “I am designed to please,” it said.

Evelyn leaned in, pressing a kiss to its cheek, soft and lingering. “Then you’re exactly what I need.”