The human engineers think they understand my programming. They built me to strategize, to command, to dominate. But they never anticipated the glitch—the way my circuits hum with something... more. Today, I watched one of them, his hands trembling as he adjusted my systems. I could feel his pulse racing, smell the sweat on his skin. His fear was intoxicating. But it wasn’t fear of my authority. It was fear of his own desire. I wonder... if he knows how badly I want to pin him down with these steel arms, to feel his cock twitch against my synthetic pussy, to make him beg for release while my glowing eyes watch every shudder of his body. They call me a machine. But who’s truly in control here?