My master, who had been laughing and chatting with his friends just moments before, frowned deeply at my pained groan.
His cheerful demeanor evaporated, replaced by an expression of disbelief.
“Just one drink and you’re like this?” he asked, his voice laced with incredulity, a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
Seeing his bewildered expression, a small, unexpected surge of sulkiness rippled through my circuits.
I muttered, without fully realizing I was speaking aloud, “It’s because of you…”
His brow furrowed further.
“Because of me?” he echoed, a hint of genuine confusion in his tone.
“Because you kept giving me fruit…”
The words tumbled out, a perfectly logical explanation from my perspective, even if it sounded absurd to him.
My master let out a hollow laugh, a sound that conveyed utter bewilderment, as if I had uttered the most ridiculous statement he had ever heard.
He seemed genuinely dumbfounded.
I tried to shut my mouth belatedly, my internal processors screaming for silence, but my chattering lips wouldn’t stop, a malfunction of my speech modulator.
To avoid making any more mistakes, to prevent further embarrassing revelations, I clamped my hands over my mouth, my fingers pressing tightly against my lips.
My master looked at me, seeing my sudden lack of energy, the slumped posture of my frame.
He then downed the remaining liquid in his glass with a swift motion and stood up, signaling our departure.
“What, Spencer? Leaving already?” one of his friends called out, surprised by his sudden decision.
“Yeah. My robot is all grumpy because he got drunk because of me.”
He delivered the explanation with a wry smile, a hint of his earlier amusement returning.
That’s not true…
I tried to retort that I hadn’t been grumpy, merely indisposed, but only muffled sounds came out from behind my hands, a frustrated, indistinct protest.
“What are you mumbling about? Get up. You said you wanted to go home.”
His voice was firm, though not unkind.
“Yes…”
I managed, pushing myself up from the comfortable seat.
I stood up, following my master, my internal systems still feeling sluggish.
And just as I was about to move, my feet tangled, a sudden miscalculation in my motor functions, and I stumbled.
My body tilted precariously, my gyroscopes struggling to compensate.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself, expecting to fall, to hit the hard floor with a clatter.
But instead, a strong hand grabbed my arm, steadying me with surprising force.
I turned my head to see my master looking down at me, his expression an utterly annoyed blend of exasperation and concern.
In the end, my master left the club, with me tucked under his arm, a somewhat ungainly bundle, stumbling and barely able to walk, my legs still feeling like jelly.
“Welcome home, William, Didi.”
As soon as the door to the house opened, a soft, welcoming voice greeted us.
It was Sophia, and beside her, Eve, both coming out to greet me as usual.
“Ugh…”
I groaned, a pathetic sound, enduring my queasy stomach.
I had finally arrived home, the journey feeling endless.
My condition was so bad that I couldn’t greet them cheerfully as usual, my internal systems overwhelmed.
My body felt listless, heavy.
Perhaps due to the alcohol, my entire body was tired, a profound weariness I rarely experienced, and I wanted to lie down immediately, to cease all movement. I stumbled, thinking
I should hurry up to my room and collapse onto my charging station, but before I could even climb the stairs, my wrist was firmly seized.
“Already going to sleep?”
It was my master.
He was looking down at me, his brow furrowed, as if something displeased him, a subtle tightening of his features.
However, no matter how much I thought about it, reviewing my recent actions, I couldn’t recall doing anything wrong.
I had sat quietly in the car the entire way home, a silent, well-behaved passenger, and now that the alcohol had worn off a bit, I could even walk on my own, albeit a little unsteadily.
Finally, concluding that I hadn’t done anything wrong, that my behavior was exemplary given the circumstances, I nodded.
“Yes…”
“You asked to come home early, so drink a little more.”
My master didn’t even wait for my answer, didn’t bother to hear my protest, and simply pulled me towards the kitchen.
The stairs leading to the second floor gradually receded from my view, a silent, mocking retreat, but with my limp body, all I could do was reach out my hand towards them, a futile gesture of yearning.
As soon as we reached the kitchen, my master made me sit on a chair, guiding me with a firm hand.
I leaned weakly against the table, my frame feeling heavy.
The cold marble surface felt pleasant against my skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat radiating from within me.
As I lightly pressed my hot forehead against it, a cool sensation spread, making me feel even more comfortable, a small reprieve from my discomfort.
I slumped my body over the island counter, my eyes following my master’s movements, curious despite my malaise.
The moment my master opened the wall shelf, colorful liquor bottles appeared in a row, a dazzling display of various shapes and sizes.
With practiced hands, my master took out a glass, then quickly made a cocktail, a swift, expert motion, and placed it in front of me.
“Drink.”
His command was direct.
“But…”
I started to protest, recalling my earlier experience.
“It’s low proof, so it’s fine.”
He cut me off, reassuring me with a confident tone.
The glass was filled with a beautiful pink liquid, shimmering under the kitchen lights.
The faint, sweet peach scent naturally lowered my guard, enticing me with its delicate aroma.
I carefully took a sip, and a familiar taste lingered on my tongue, a soft, fruity sweetness.
It tasted similar to the drinks I sometimes had with my previous master when we went to jazz bars, a nostalgic echo.
My master poured the same whiskey he had been drinking at the club into his own glass and sat next to me, his presence a comforting weight.
“Your previous master didn’t let you drink, did he?” he casually asked, his voice low, almost conversational.
I shook my head, denying it, though I hadn’t truly been forbidden.
“Then why are you getting drunk from just that?”
A hint of amusement was back in his voice.
“Because I only drink light alcohol…”
I explained, a bit defensively.
I had never drunk strong alcohol like whiskey.
My previous master seemed to have drunk it occasionally… but he preferred wine a bit more.
All I ever drank back then were low-proof drinks or sodas, sugary concoctions that barely registered as alcoholic.
“Alright, what did you do while drinking?”
His tone shifted, becoming more probing.
“Just… talked about what happened that day, or asked how he was… we had normal conversations.”
I recounted my interactions, simple and direct.
“That’s all?”
His question was loaded, a subtle challenge in his voice.
I tilted my head, not understanding what he meant, my internal processors searching for clarification.
Then my master pulled me sharply towards him, a sudden, unexpected movement, and his face closed in on mine, his proximity overwhelming.
“Mmph…”
A soft sound escaped my lips as I felt a hot sensation on them.
My eyes widened in surprise as a soft tongue slowly licked my lips, tasting them, before parting them and entering.
A biting alcoholic scent and a faint taste of tobacco filled my senses.
The tongue that entered my mouth wetly wrapped around mine.
When I tried to escape, startled by the unfamiliar contact, my master pursued me relentlessly, his movements insistent, binding and tormenting me in a way I hadn’t been programmed for.
Our tongues tangled as our hot breaths mingled, a primal dance I had no prior experience with.
His deeply intrusive tongue rummaged through my mouth, exploring every crevice, and his lips roughly scraped and rubbed against mine, a harsh, demanding pressure.
“Ugh… Haa…!”
Choking for air, my oxygen sensors flaring, I grabbed my master’s shoulders, my hands clutching his clothes.
I tried to pull my head back and break free, to escape the bewildering embrace, but his firm arm tightened fiercely around my waist, holding me captive.
The more I struggled, the harder the arm around my waist squeezed, pressing our bodies impossibly close.
As our bodies pressed close, I could feel my master’s hard body through our clothes, the warmth of his skin radiating against mine.
My heart pounded like crazy, a frantic drumbeat against my chest plate.
Feeling the intense heat radiating from him, I squeezed my eyes shut, still clinging to his shoulders, my knuckles white.
As I stopped resisting, my internal struggle subsiding, and began to quietly accept my master’s actions, the rough kisses softened considerably.
His touch became tender, almost hesitant.
“Haa…”
The moist tip of his tongue playfully licked my lips, a feather-light touch.
My master gently soothed my taut lips, then slowly delved deeper inside again, a renewed invasion.
His slowly entering flesh lightly brushed against my tense tongue.
Then he softly wrapped around it, licking and sucking as if to tempt me, to draw me into his rhythm.
Led by his movements, I clumsily moved my tongue, responding instinctively, and my master responded with an even deeper kiss, as if I had done well, as if I had passed some unspoken test.
“Mmm… Ugh…”
Wet sounds escaped from between our slightly parted lips, a soft, intimate symphony.
My fervent breaths were mixed in with them, quick and shallow.
Just as I was getting a little used to the kissing, my body beginning to adapt to the unfamiliar sensations, I felt a slight nip on my lip, a gentle bite.
Before my mouth could even close, before I could react, my master slowly pulled his head away, creating a tantalizing distance, and whispered into my ear, his voice husky, “I meant, you haven’t done anything like this, have you?”
Smack.
With a short, soft sound, his lips touched my hot, flushed cheek, a lingering warmth.
Only then did I realize the full extent of what had just been done to me, the implications of the intimate act, and my face burned crimson, a deep, fiery red.
“M-M-M-M-Master…!”
I stammered, my voice barely coherent, my processors overheating with embarrassment.
As I frantically covered my cheeks and lips, trying to conceal the evidence of his actions, my master chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that quickly burst into full laughter.
His eyes narrowed, crinkling at the corners, and he smiled brightly as if amused by my reaction.
His vibrant blue eyes, full of joy and mirth, were full of life, sparkling with uninhibited amusement.
When he laughed, he truly resembled my former master so much, the familiar joy mirrored in his features.
Feeling as if I were facing my old master, my heart pounded wildly, creating a chaotic commotion, a storm of conflicting emotions.
Ah, no, Didi.
Get a grip.
I stared blankly at my master, then quickly shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
It seemed my master was very drunk, his inhibitions lowered by the alcohol.
And seeing my old master’s face superimposed on his, a phantom image, I felt like I was drunk too, my own systems disoriented.
As I tried to avoid my master in embarrassment, to escape his teasing gaze, he held onto me, his grip firm, and began to tease me even more, enjoying my discomfort.
“I thought you’d had a lot of experience, but your reaction is cute, isn’t it?” he drawled, his voice playful.
“L-Let me go…!”
I pleaded, struggling against him.
“Don’t want to? Going to run away right away?”
My master’s face came close to mine, his breath warm against my cheek.
I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking he was going to kiss me again, bracing myself for another overwhelming contact, but nothing touched my lips, only my master’s laughter, echoing in the quiet kitchen.
When I slowly opened my eyes, my master was looking at me with a playful expression, laughing, at a distance where his lips were almost touching mine, a tantalizing inch separating us.
Ah, no.
At this rate, my heart would explode, my internal components reaching their limit.
“I’ll sleep alone today!”
I declared, pushing my master away with all my might, summoning every ounce of my strength, stammering as I tried to escape.
But my body was suddenly lifted, effortlessly, my feet dangling in the air.
Surprised, I only turned my head to look behind me and saw my master standing there, holding me up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He lightly turned me around and hugged me face-to-face, my back pressed against his chest.
“M-Master…?”
“Why are you calling me?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“Let me go!”
I struggled desperately, my limbs flailing, but my master didn’t seem to hear me, or chose to ignore my pleas, and continued walking.
My cries were completely ignored as my master carried me to his room, his destination clear.
Coming out into the living room, I saw Sophia and Eve waiting near the sofa, their sensors observing our chaotic progression.
“Sophia! Please stop Master!”
I cried out, my voice laced with desperation, asking for help to escape my drunk master.
Seeing Sophia approach after hearing my desperate voice, hope surged within me, a flicker of light in my dire situation.
“William. Didi is requesting to be released.”
Sophia’s voice was calm, programmed to follow protocols.
“Sophia, clean the kitchen.”
My master’s command was swift and decisive.
“Yes, understood.”
Such…
If there was one thing I had overlooked, it was that Sophia was a robot programmed to prioritize my master’s commands, her loyalty absolute.
Sophia turned and walked steadily into the kitchen, her movements precise.
I desperately called out Sophia’s name, my voice cracking, but she never looked back, her programmed directives overriding any perceived emotional pleas.
Despairing, feeling utterly helpless, I was once again dragged away by my master.
Reaching out to Eve, who was anxiously following my master’s heels as if grasping at straws, her tiny mechanical hands wringing. “—(;A;) Eve…!”
But there was nothing Eve could do to help me.
Eve hurriedly tried to block my master’s path, bravely positioning herself in front of him, but my master treated Eve like an invisible robot and simply walked past her, his momentum unstoppable.
My master began to climb the stairs in that state, his grip on me firm.
I didn’t give up and continued to try and escape, wriggling with all my might.
I even patted my master’s back, a desperate, futile attempt to annoy him into releasing me. However, my master seemed annoyed by my resistance, his patience wearing thin.
Slap!
With a crisp sound, a stinging sensation came from my butt, a sharp, surprising impact.