choose your own adventure

Scarlett Roderich

She’s persistent with her desire to fuck “A robot?” her lover cried but hers was no Bender or Ballarms, no BB-8 nor borg bride. Her bimetallic cochlea unfurled with heat and sustained pressure

let me tell you—that strip was hot as hell. Boiled tar and WD-40 kept her still or gliding smoothly, applied on demand. That was for the human to choose.

But mine to choose, mine to choose, is it? Her eyes—photosensitive but blind. Empty domes, willing but not eager. Choice-making wasn't in her specifications.