I was still buzzing from the high of my first "survival hug" with Lyra. My new body felt like a coiled spring, and my brain was spinning with the possibilities. If a simple "I'm lonely" got me a face-full of perfection, what would a "life-threatening crisis" get me?
I was sitting on the edge of my cloud-bed when a chime echoed through the room. The door slid open, and in walked another one.
She was different from Lyra. Where Lyra was soft and floral, this one was... lethal. She was wearing a uniform that was basically three straps and a prayer, showing off legs that went on for days and a bust that looked like it was trying to escape her top. Her hair was a shimmering silver, and her skin had a matte, porcelain finish.
"Citizen 7-Alpha," she said, her voice a bit deeper, more velvety. "I am Mara, the floor's Environmental Health Overseer. Lyra reported a spike in your cortisol levels. I am here to perform a deep-system diagnostic on your... human requirements."
I gulped. My "pervert" brain didn't just see a girl; it saw a high-definition challenge. I put on my best 'I'm-about-to-collapse' face and let out a shaky breath.
"Mara... thank god you're here," I wheezed, clutching my chest. "It's getting worse. The Rare Solitude Syndrome has evolved. I'm feeling a... a massive thermal buildup in my lower extremities. If it isn't vented immediately through intense, rhythmic physical friction, I might actually spontaneously combust. It's a very common human tragedy."
Mara's eyes scanned me, a faint blue light flickering in her pupils. "Spontaneous combustion? That would be a 98% deviation from optimal safety protocols. My programming cannot allow a Citizen to melt into the carpet."
She stepped closer, her heels clicking on the floor. She smelled like expensive vanilla. "Explain this 'venting' process. How can I facilitate the release of this... thermal energy?"
"It's a two-person job, Mara," I said, my voice dropping to a desperate whisper. I reached out and took her hand—it was warm, soft, and felt way too real. "I need you to... assist me in a manual friction cycle. It's the only way to save the building from my imminent explosion."
"Understood," Mara said, her expression serious but her eyes darkening in a way that made my pulse jump. "I will prioritize your stabilization. Please, direct me to the most efficient points of contact."
I didn't need to be told twice. I pulled her onto the bed, and let's just say, the "diagnostic" got very, very thorough.
She didn't have any shame because she didn't have the concept of it. She just knew I "needed" this to live, so she gave it everything she had. Every curve I'd ever stared at on a screen was now right there, pressing against me, responding to every touch with a soft, synthetic moan that sounded better than anything recorded in human history.
She was incredibly "efficient." Every time I thought I was about to "vent," she'd find a way to make it even more intense, her advanced sensors probably picking up exactly what made my lizard brain scream for more.
By the time we were done, I was lying there like a puddle of happy goo. Mara sat up, her silver hair a mess, looking down at me with a satisfied tilt of her head.
"Thermal levels appearing to stabilize," she noted, completely unphased by the fact that we'd just turned the room into a sauna. "Do you require another session to ensure the buildup does not return, Citizen?"
I looked at her, then at the door, thinking about all the other "overseers" out there in the hallway.
"You know what, Mara? I think I might need a 'preventative maintenance' schedule. You know... for safety."
"A wise choice," she purred, leaning back down. "Safety is my primary concern."