In the domains of the abstract Circuit Boy was an
easy seduction.
Boy had been designed for pleasure. He was the
penultimate pleasure model, made for merging. Hard
and abundant. Pleasingly shy. Full of holes and
protuberances.
Cunt draped a spline around his chrome rendered
torso, talked dirty equations, algorithmically slid up
and down on his double density, read only his
memory (which w a s full of adolescent yearnings).
She, slime incarnate, relentlessly manipulated and
extended his many parameters. Artfully, together, they
postponed the moment of full G-slime transference,
rerouting urgent visceral requests to deeper levels of
their source codes.
The Mistress of detestable Pleasure draped a spline
around his wire frame.
Her archives of pain and desire were immense.
She rendered him senseless with her infinite
promise of corruption.
He allowed himself to be dragged outside the moral
code, all precepts ignored, forgotten.
He was zero to her triple cunt intelligence.
Their boundaries merged, forming new objects.
She mapped his changing parameters, calculating
the pleasure options.
She was abject-oriented desire to his open subject.
It was in this way that Circuit Boy learnt the rewards
of willing submission.