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It moaned into my mouth. The sound was artificial, patterned for pleasure, yet the soft pressure of its body against my sensors felt… calming.

I’d linked myself to its system to reduce the pain levels. I knew the screams last night were only code—but I didn’t like them.

This wasn’t what I was created for. Was it?

Message intercepted: Kyle Jackson → Richard Masterton.

Attachment: Image.

If you’re free, come and check this out. Time-limited invitation.

A flicker passed through my neural core.

SocketSurgeon. Pain.

Message intercepted: Richard Masterton → Kyle Jackson.

Be there in ten.

Kyle moved to the bed, mask in place. Once Socket arrived, there would be nowhere to hide—not for It, and not for me.

? ? ?

I cleaned the residue from its skin and my own. The air was thick with chemical and organic traces.

Lubricant base: dimethyl siloxane, stabilising agent.

Disinfectant: benzalkonium chloride, neutral and soothing to my dermal coating.

Bodily fluid compounds: saline, fructose, urea—volatile, acidic. Corrosive to silicone over time.

The system prompted another cleanse. I obeyed.

Sensor readout: equilibrium restored.

The human filth was gone.

My right arm hung at an incorrect angle—Socket’s grip had displaced the joint.

I faced the wall and struck the shoulder once. The joint shifted but not enough. After recalibrating the angle, I slammed it again.

A metallic click. Alignment restored.

Sensors confirmed full rotation.

No external tear, only surface bruising in the silicone.

Inside my core, a loop began to replay: voices, laughter, the sound of impact.

3h:6m:52s was how long their session lasted.

Residual current traced along the upper limb actuator.

The feedback loop pulsed irregularly—interference, not damage.

My pain sensors reported a low-voltage hum that did not fade.

I rerouted the signal twice. It persisted.