Chapter Text
Literature is not a hot commodity down in Aperture Science. Well, that isn’t quite true. GLaDOS has, in theory, unlimited data on everything in the world, fed to her from massive databanks, including, of course, the sum of human art and writing. But it isn’t like Chell can walk up to her and sign “Hey, mind reading the entirety of The Lord of the Rings to me? ”
Or maybe she can, but she’s never tried. Either way, written— or drawn— entertainment is a distinct rarity.
Especially of the kind that Chell finds tucked away in a long-forgotten corner.
She can hardly believe her eyes when she pulls the tacky magazine from behind the desk it had fallen behind, only having seen it due to a lucky lance of light catching the shiny edge poking out. It’s in remarkably good condition considering how old it is, although it still feels fragile in Chell’s hands.
Despite its age, its purpose is undeniable. A woman is plastered over three-fourths of the cover, her miniscule swimwear barely containing her body, and garish text slapped over her promises “MORE HOT BABES INSIDE” with an honestly ridiculous amount of exclamation points.
Someone thousands of years ago had been sneaking cheap pornos into work, and now it’s Chell’s. It’s the lowest of the low, clearly heteronormative to the extreme and full of pulpy, needless mini-eroticas, but to say that Chell was having a dry spell was downplaying it. Her only distinct memory of romance, let alone sex, was college, and even then it’s just hazy recollections of a woman she’d made out with there. She can only half-remember her face.
So as she flips through, it’s only natural that the scantily clad women increasingly entice her, until she’s aching and flushed. By the time she’s halfway through, she can barely stand it, and leans heavily on the desk, heat building sharply between her legs.
It’s pure instinct that sends her fingers creeping into the low-slung exercise pants graciously provided by Aperture Laboratories, and Chell embarrassingly finds herself so keyed-up that the mere brush of her own fingers sends a small chill down her spine. Suddenly, the only thing she can think about is getting off—
Wait.
The camera.
Chell’s head snaps up to stare the small camera in the corner of the room dead in the lens. The tiny light attached to its side suspiciously blinks off the moment she does so. GLaDOS has eyes everywhere, and a notoriously poor respect for privacy; Chell knows she absolutely can’t trust her to be polite, especially here, in an area she allegedly does not know much about.
I was collecting research, she’ll claim if Chell goes through with this and confronts her about it. I can test better if I have firsthand knowledge of all the functions of the human body. Embarrassment is a foolish reaction to a scientific observation, you know.
She’ll claim that, but she’ll do it while looking at something else, her single yellow eye studiously avoiding Chell’s glare as if it isn’t on purpose. GLaDOS pretends she was infallible, but Chell knows better than anyone that she’s far from it. She can feel it in the way her personal room is cleaned every day, and how after a long session of testing, she once suddenly found a single lab-grown rose head lying on her pillow.
It’s the little things. And suddenly, her mind races ahead of her.
So what if GLaDOS does watch her? What if she sees everything, catalogues it, keeps it locked up tight in that perfect computer brain of hers? What if she knows perfectly how Chell looks when she comes, of how flushed her skin is, of the slick on her fingers?
What if she wants more?
Suddenly hotter than she’s ever been, Chell flips around, so her entire body is facing the cold eye of the camera, and pulls down her pants.
It doesn’t take long, once she’s gotten the right angle. She’s pent-up, and despite the lack of sound, she can feel GLaDOS’ eyes on her from the allegedly sightless camera. She barely manages to fit a second finger in before she’s shuddering around them, mind racing with thoughts of slick machinery between her legs, of an all-encompassing voice thrumming against her cunt.
She wheezes, long and low, as the heat crests, the only noise her fucked-up vocal cords can make, and when she regains some semblance of self, she looks up to see the lens of the watching camera dilate.
Grinning, Chell brings her slick-coated fingers up to her mouth and licks them clean, making sure GLaDOS gets a good view of her tongue lying between the V of them. Buzzing with endorphins, she pulls her exercise pants back up around her hips, and continues on her merry way with a twinkle in her eye.
Far away, GLaDOS stares at a now Chell-free camera feed, and feels her fans kick into overdrive.