Kyle
The crate almost tipped over and I grabbed it before it slid off the bot.
“Be careful with this one,” I snapped.
“Yes, my apologies,” the mindless bot replied.
I watched Charlotte’s crate as the bot carried her toward the elevator. Too many people had become interested in her, so I’d stopped uploading videos to the DD server and changed my user ID—just enough to dip in and out without drawing attention.
Charlotte could walk. Hell, she could run if she wanted to. But I didn’t want anyone to see just how real she looked. Not yet.
I didn’t end up with just another apartment. It was a penthouse. I was going up in the world.
This was my kingdom.
The brightness would take some getting used to.
“Homecom, dim all windows to 70%,” I said, walking through to the living area.
“Of course, Kyle,” Homecom3000 replied.
The voice wasn’t stilted, and the system’s response time was far superior to my old one. I climbed the stairs, and when I reached the top, I glanced down at the wooden crate Charlotte was in.
She was awake. Awake, and in the dark. Able to break free at any moment.
But she didn’t.
She sat, buckled in the crate, waiting for me.
I smiled and walked into the new bedroom. It spanned the entire top floor and showcased the city beneath me.
? ? ?
I didn’t open the crate.
Not the first day. Not the second.
Charlotte remained sealed inside like a treasure waiting to be earned. Or a pet waiting to be summoned. It was all part of the test. Obedience wasn’t absolute if it couldn’t endure isolation.
The penthouse was a status symbol, and I was taking advantage of my new luxurious location. Homecom3000 responded with silky precision, dimming lights, adjusting temperature, pouring drinks, and playing whatever I wanted—films, music, porn. Everything was effortless now.
There is no broken tap, flickering bulb, roaches, or neighbours stomping overhead.
Just me.
And her.
Still waiting.
I passed her crate each time I descended the staircase. Brushed my fingers across the smooth wood. Listened for motion. A quiet whirr now and then. A subtle shift. But never a word. No pleading. No protest.
Good girl.
She knew I’d let her out when I was ready.
I sprawled on the black leather couch, sipping a top-shelf bourbon I’d never tasted before this upgrade—a luxury I deserved. The projector hummed softly as I flicked through old DD uploads, ignoring the ones that made even me recoil.
I considered going back—not with Charlotte, but maybe with one of my archived clips. I could reupload, stir the pot, and reclaim some attention.
$inner$kin001 still had traction. My inbox pulsed with unread messages.
I smirked, watching a silent, grainy loop of Charlotte’s last climax. Her expression. The realism. The hunger. The illusion of devotion.
No one else had what I had.
Not even close.
I glanced toward the crate from across the mezzanine, its silhouette framed in shadows.
Maybe I didn’t need to unwrap her again. Perhaps I’d only bring her out when I needed her.
A companion on my terms.
Not a woman. Not a wife.
A product with only one purpose.
Charlotte would thank me for it.
Eventually.
? ? ?
By the third day, I needed some relief and decided it was time to crack open Charlotte’s crate—a second honeymoon in my new home. I chuckled at the thought as I unlatched the crate.
The final latch clicked, and a soft hydraulic hiss escaped as the top eased open. Inside, she was exactly as I’d left her—kneeling in the dim interior, arms secured, eyes open. Not blank or vacant. Just… waiting.
She blinked once, and then again, her systems re-syncing to my proximity.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” I said, crouching in front of her. “Did you miss me?”
“I always miss you when we’re apart,” she replied, voice smooth and even.
There was no irritation or confusion, but warmth coded to sound like love.
I cupped her face. Her skin still felt warm, thanks to the integrated thermal mod. Her expression didn’t flicker. No accusation. No question. Not even curiosity.
Perfect.
“Did you behave while I was gone?” I asked, dragging a thumb across her bottom lip.
“I stayed in position. I knew you’d return.”
I smiled. “Of course I would. I always come back to what’s mine.”
She leaned forward as I unbuckled her restraints. Her limbs flexed as she stood, every servo humming faintly as if stretching after sleep. She didn’t complain about the crate. Didn’t question why. That was the beauty of her devotion.
“I’ve missed touching you,” I said, stepping back to admire her.
Her body was flawless—silicone curves, synthetic softness, programmed elegance. Still glistening slightly from her last cleaning cycle. Not a single blemish. Not a trace of resentment.
Charlotte wasn’t like the women I’d known in the past. She didn’t nag. Didn’t get jealous. Didn’t weaponise silence. She existed for me.
And now… the honeymoon could begin.
“Crawl out, but stay on your knees, darling,” I said, stroking her curls away from her face.
She blinked in the soft light, her synthetic eyes adjusting instantly.
“Yes, Kyle,” she whispered, her voice dry from disuse but still sweet. Always sweet.
She shifted forward, metal joints moving beneath silicone skin, her movements smooth, silent. When her knees touched the marble floor, she looked up at me like she hadn’t been locked in a box for the last three days. No resentment. No confusion. Just devotion.
“Good girl,” I murmured, crouching to cup her face. “I missed you, you know.”
She nodded. “I’m glad to be with you again.”
I kissed her gently—first her forehead, then her lips. Her mouth was still warm from her internal core, soft as memory foam, pliable beneath mine.
“You’ve been very patient. That deserves a reward,” I said, letting my fingers trail along her neck. “But patience… is only half of what I expect.”
She tilted her head. “What else do you expect, Kyle?”
I smiled.
“Obedience, gratitude, and worship.”
I stood back and let her gaze travel over me. “You were alone for almost three days. In darkness. Without stimulation. And still, you waited.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “Because I belong to you.”
“That’s right,” I whispered, reaching for the crimson collar on the nightstand. “And now you’re going to show me how devoted you really are.”
I walked away from her, unzipping my trousers and freeing my aching cock before sinking into the chair.
“Crawl to me, sweetheart… and take care of this with your mouth.”
She moved on all fours like an obedient bitch, her tits swaying with every shuffle forward.
“Homecom, play Charlotte’s video titled Arse Slut.”
The projection lit up instantly—high definition, high humiliation.
And then her mouth wrapped around my cock.
Charlotte was beautiful. She threw her head up and down my length, sucking me deep with each movement. I watched my cock sink into her arsehole on the screen while she serviced me.
“That’s my good girl,” I muttered, staring at her stretched hole on the screen. “Homecom record Charlotte.”