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V2's body lies inert on the floor.
Mirage sits above them.
She shifts subtly, her knees crumpling the layered sheets of newspaper under the two of them.
"My God, you are grimy."
The sentence is punctuated by a single sharp noise, likely the impact of a finger on its thigh or arm. It's hard to tell from audio alone.
"At least it's only surface-level; there's no rust yet. That said, your arm socket is disgusting up close, even from the outside."
Shuffling.
Internal servos manually rotated with small, disgruntled whirs.
"Okay, I can get at your left side better now. You hanging in there, V? I'll try to get this done quick."
V2 emits a low pitched whine. "I will iterate once more: You truly don't need to do this. I am in no considerable pain, and my systems are running at full efficiency." Silence. Even with its vision system disabled, it still knows she's giving them a disparaging stare right now. Although they could still keep their vision on during this, they both decided it would be less distressing for it if she took them apart without them watching.
"Were you at 'full efficiency' when your port side exhaust fan was covered in huge scabs I had to pick off with a knife? You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you, buddy." They hear Mirage tap her fingers on their chest. "Open up, please."
They manually unlatch their chest plating with a terminal command. Mirage would be able to remove it herself if they were fully offline, but they'd rather not leave her alone if they can help it.
A moment later, after a few gummy-sounding scrapes and a heavy, hollow thud on the wood paneling next to its head, they get the expected hardware disconnect warning on their HUD. They reboot their emergency stop system into maintenance mode to nip any further messages in the bud.
"Hmm. Okay." The clink of a screwdriver being picked up. "So. All the organs and system in your torso are coated in what looks at least a centimeter of congealed blood. This is, from what I can see, entirely caused by the internal leakage from your uh, impromptu amputation." She sighs. "I'm going to temporarily remove your liver and heart. It also looks like I can fully remove the dead motor in your left arm joint. It's probably eating up a lot of your voltage usage."
"Remove my-? I-" V2 stammers, forgetting their larger hardware is offline for a moment as they attempt to sit up in panic.
Mirage clarifies in a panic. "No, no, I'm pretty sure your bigger veins have enough slack that I can remove those organs without disconnecting them! Turns out they didn't really clean up a lot of your wiring in here. I promise I won't disconnect anything without telling you."
"I trust you are being truthful, here. I trust you, however it's somewhat unnerving to hear you say these things with no context."
Silence, for a moment.
"Would it help if I was streaming my visual input to you, and uh, explaining what I'm doing, or would that be just as bad as watching me dismantle you from your angle?" Another pause. "I just want to make sure you're clean."
V2 thinks. "You may try."
It receives a local connection request a moment later, and their vision is flooded with a somewhat low-resolution live feed of Mirage situated between its legs, staring down at their own half-dissected body.
With their chestplate gone, the organs and mechanisms in its torso are on full display.
"I stand corrected. My internal systems are exceedingly filthy, in fact," V2 admits. "...This position is acceptable."
"Alright, V. And yeah, I'm surprised you don't stink like rotten blood."
V2 has never really taken a good look at their internals; they've never had a reason to, other than occasional emergency repairs. Their partner is right; most of their inner system is entrenched in a layer of coagulated blood. Evidently, Mirage has also removed some of the thin silicone-coated steel plating protecting their stomach. Its lower abdomen looks acceptably clean beyond what she's exposed at the moment, which somewhat satiates their fear of being wholly dismantled and disinfected today. Mirage has also set up a secondary power supply for them attached to cables in their collar; the risk of their heart stopping is negligible, but they agree redundancy is safer than the alternative.
The worst of the damage is on their left side, of course, where their axillary and cephalic veins along with the central cable for the several servo motors in their arm lie mangled and useless, several clots plugging their tubing as their emergency fallback software desperately attempted to stop the bleeding so long ago. The remaining mess is evidently the fallout from this exclusive event rather than a variety of other internal trauma. Inexplicably, considering their death.
Various form-fit, malleable plastic cases contain their organs, which are in turn encased in polyethylene bags. Their outer layers have an amber sheen, and V2 wonders if they'll stain permanently.
On each of its sides are various tools: lilac-colored rubber gloves, hand tools, a soldering iron (already plugged in) and a roll of lead-free solder, wire caps, a digital multimeter, a pair of bulky atraumatic forceps, channel-cleaning and general-purpose brushes, and a plastic jug of a light orange fluid.
Mirage has an anti-static discharge strap attached to her wrist; the other side is connected with an alligator wire clip to a grounding plug in the wall. Attached to the same plug is a large blue, rubber mat, which lies under V2's torso.
She waves a hand in front of their blind eye, jokingly. "Hey. You in there?"
"Oh. Yes," it manages to respond. "This is disorienting." It's odd to see itself like this; a true out-of-body experience.
It may as well be a splinter of Mirage's consciousness at this point, cut off from everything in reality but her sight.
"Yeah, I bet it is. Don't get too used to staring at yourself, once I'm done cutting out all your dead wiring you can reconnect your hardware. Voltage doesn't run through your veins, thankfully." She looks down, adjusting her loose nylon shorts and unbuttoning her overshirt, tossing it to the side. "Fortunately, I had the foresight to wear black."
Mirage hesitates, then looks down the neck of her t-shirt for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the warm yellow light paneling on her chest. "...How's that for a view?" she laughs, sheepishly, and squirms a little when V2 laughs with her.
"Okay. Um. I'm going to start now," she reaches to the side, picking up the rubber gloves; careful not to disconnect her grounding wire as she puts them on. "I'll start by taking out your heart and liver, like I said before. They're the biggest things covering up the rest of your chest cavity."
V2 watches as she pulls at their venae cavae with the forceps, probably making sure she has enough slack, then unbolts the respective containers from their chest, gingerly avoiding their smaller veins. As Mirage extracts their liver, attached to them by a long, thick tube that runs through the container, it brings with it encrusted, stringy clots of oxidized fuel. Her gloves are immediately stained with the substance, leaving behind thick streaks of oily clumps when she sets the oddly shaped piece of plastic down by its side.
"I'm not very well versed in biology, but your organs look to be in good condition," she says conversationally, moving to pry out their heart casing. "That being- ugh -said, your heart is really jammed in there... Oh," she cuts herself off.
"Mirage. Is there something wrong?" V2 starts, attempting to keep the panic out of its voice. Did she accidentally decouple something important?
"Oh, no. Just saw there was one more bolt in the back I didn't get." She leans further into their body and picks loose scabs off of a small washer nestled under their carotid arteries, extracting it swiftly. "That should do it... Yeah, it's coming out fine now." If V2 couldn't see what was happening, it would think she was doing maintenance on a car.
Its heart is bloodier than their liver, sticky with pockets of wet still remaining under layers of dry film. Mirage's gloves now shine a dark crimson, with barely a trace of their original color underneath the layers of scum. When she sets it alongside their other organ, it realizes the glint of silver it's been noticing underneath was their spinal column, under tangles of zip-tied wire clusters mixed within thin veins. They only notice it for a moment, though, as their partner quickly moves her attention to a pair of pliers next to their head and scoots on her knees over to their bad shoulder.
"I'm going to get rid of all these excess wires that got pulled out of your joint. They're already disconnected, so you shouldn't have to recalibrate anything." She looks down, and V2 can see the familiar bouquet of split cables awkwardly emerging from between the padded gaps in their scapular joint. Their exterior protective coverings are torn at the ends. "Okay. Should be easy enough."
And it is. The wiring comes out quickly; in colorful, half-foot long clumps. It looks as though she's pulled dozens of bloody splinters out of them. Afterward, unscrewing the half-destroyed motor in the broken joint is easy.
There's more to come, however, as is evident when Mirage moves to the internal parts of their scapula and emits a disgruntled tone. "V, you're kind of torn up under here." She looks to their center, then their right scapula. "Huh. You see all the drips of solder coming from the PCBs up here? That must have been from, uh-"
"The heat," V2 finishes for her. She doesn't need to be worried about bringing it up, but she always is.
"Yeah. You'll be fine, I have some solder wick. You see that though?" She points to their left scapula. "Sort of crazy to look at."
The metal in their latticed shoulder joint is torn, ripped like paper. It can tell it isn't fixable without taking apart their entire chassis; either way, they don't have a replacement for this part. Ergo: even with Mirage's amateur prowess in robotics, they're not getting a new arm any time soon, at least not one attached to this joint.
"Hm," they manage, quietly. "Were you going to start cleaning?" it adds abruptly, a few seconds later. No point in ruminating on it.
She nods, then audibly confirms after she realizes V2 can't really see her nod. "Yes. I'm going to soak your organ casings, then start with the interior of your right shoulder around your scapular motor and move counterclockwise, essentially. You'll have to remaster your joints because of how much I've been moving them manually, but you'll be fine."
There's a twinge of something in her voice, as if enough power isn't getting to her vocal synthesizer. Worry, perhaps? She is talking a lot, usually a sign of anxiety or embarrassment for her.
"Mirage, if I am hurt I will tell you immediately. You don't have to worry."
"What do- ? Oh, sure, okay." Maybe not worry, then. She seems reasonably confident in herself overall.
Mirage leads them through how she's soaking their organs; starting with filling a large plastic basin with a watered-down portion of the orange substance in the bottle (enzymatic cleaner, V2 learns), and placing the containers gently into the mixture. V2 almost expects it to fizz or some other equally dramatic reaction, but disappointingly the grime just slowly sloughs off of the plastic, finally completely coming off as she gently wipes the containers dry with an old, thin shirt a few minutes later.
She has a small spray bottle of the same cleaner, which she uses in their now-considerably more hollow chest cavity. Fortunately, their more sensitive hardware is contained within watertight polycarbonate casings deeper in their body. Her brushes make quick work of the filth and dregs that remain within them. First pass is with a rough brush that looks like it would hurt if V2 could feel it, then a softer, smaller brush, until finally building down to small towels. Fuel and thick clots quickly surround them both on the newspaper, but it's wet, rehydrated from the extra fluid, easy to wipe off.
It's not long before they're fully clean; cleaner than they've ever been in decades, V2 assumes. The small drips of solder stuck to their internal back plating have even been eradicated, thanks to Mirage.
Mirage is talkative the whole time, primarily complaining about how hard it is to get fuel out of the little divots made for their now-removed organs, but additionally about what each of the mechanisms in their body and abdomen do. They've got three major motors, V2 knows but she's quick to explain, excluding the one that was destroyed with their arm: scapular, lower scalene (the upper scalene is in their head, and much smaller), and the largest, their transverse abdominal motor. She brushes one hand over each mechanism with deliberation as she describes them, probing the indented seams on the stators' casing, then reaches into it further, feeling the bulky encasements that house their digital components.
She's silent for a moment, her head inert as she looks over them.
In the lull, V2 is finally able to notice just how hard her fans have been running.
"Alright, you think you're clean enough?" she says; a little too loudly, with a static hum under their tone that betrays how distracted she is, but V2 doesn't want to bring it up. They nod. "I'm going to start refastening these containers, then."
V2 takes a gamble. "Are you sure you don't want to keep me like this longer?"
"Uh," Mirage replies with no small amount of trepidation, but it quickly turns into deflection, and her vocal synthesizer lags. Bingo. "Why? You having too much fun ogling me from my own angle? How's it feel to be in the body of someone totally out of your league, buddy." Their feed cuts out, leaving them blind once more. "There. Pervert privilege revoked. I'm gonna screw your heart back in now." Her joking still doesn't disguise the heaving of her fans, or just how quiet her voice has gotten. The volume itself, not just her tone, indicating her power distribution system has better priorities. They hear the shuffle of her grabbing their heart back.
"Acknowledged," V2 says, surreptitiously switching their vision back on. There's a lower danger of electrostatic discharge (or, Heaven forbid, an arc flash) if she's not touching any of their circuitry anymore, like she was when extracting their necrotic hardware.
It's back in its own body again. It glances around.
Its limbs, at least the three that remain, are twisted awkwardly, akin to a discarded string puppet. The beam of a lamp, stolen from its home on the bedside table, brilliantly illuminates its torso; the multitude of scuffs and gouges in its sleek crimson plating revealed in sharp relief. Its wings, unlit, refract the light in odd ways.
They look at Mirage.
Her faceplate is barely a foot away. She's leaning over it as she holds their heart in her hands, frozen.
Their heart is, of course, beating slowly. V2 has no endocrine system to cause its pulse to quicken, but that doesn't stop its fans from kicking up a notch in the effort to process just what she's doing. She hasn't noticed they're looking yet.
She snaps out of it a moment later, evidently, because she looks around, down, and then back at their chest, and blinks deliberately, reaching for her socket wrench again.
Once she has their heart fastened back into its place, Mirage sits up fully and stretches, pushing its leg to the side to retrieve its liver. This allows them to finally confirm its suspicions: she is irrevocably aroused.
Her crotch is pressed against their own. It doesn't even look like she's wearing underwear.
"Oh," V2 can't help exclaiming, barely above a whisper. Mirage turns her head.
"What are you. Oh. Oh." She scoots back, pulls her shirt down, and leans over slightly in an attempt to hide what her counterpart had clearly already witnessed.
"It's okay," V2 attempts, gently, and Mirage just curls in further, pulling her knees up and covering her faceplate with her hands. Her erection, despite this, does not abate. "Are you ashamed?"
Her vocal synthesizer clips. "Living alone for this long, I," she pauses, restarts once more. "I do want to see you like this, V." Her voice is muffled, timid. They've never seen her so mortified.
V2 slowly brings its arm back online, impatiently waiting through initial zeroing tests before they're able to gently touch Mirage's leg. She looks over at them under her crossed arms, eyelid lowered in a squint.
"Tell me why. I want to know." She looks like she's about to protest, so they reiterate. "You are obviously aroused, and I want to help you."
She chuckles, nervously. "You might as well be telling me you want to help me do the dishes with that tone. Shut up."
"I can aid you with both. I am, in fact, capable of many tasks." She snorts, a short burst of static. Good, that's more like her. V2 drags its palm up her leg. "Go on," its tone lowers.
Mirage slowly brings her knees back down. She pulls off the bloody rubber gloves, turning them inside out, but doesn't remove her wrist strap.
She leans over them, her face close to theirs.
"...You're mine, you know that?" Her fans rev, her narrowed eye flickering.
"Of course, sunshine." V2 responds with feigned innocence. "Every part of me." It's beginning to understand what she wants. While they're not sure their body is particularly meant for this level of stress testing, they're sure they'll hold up.
She moves with an unprecedented amount of speed, shifting her weight onto one leg in order to sit astride them. Her thighs hug their abdomen with surprising force; her dick strains against the loose fabric of her shorts, bouncing a little as she settles on top of them.
"Tell me." V2 grabs her waistband, pulling upward as she attempts to push her shorts down her hips, and she makes a disgruntled noise, nearly a moan. "Explain what you want to do to me, and why. You have been transparent with me thus far."
"V2, you're giving me fucking homework?" She's annoyed enough to use their full designation, but not mad enough to not play along. "Just let me explain afterward."
"I don't think the question is that difficult, Mirage." They slip their hand under her shorts to confirm their suspicion. Sure enough, she's not wearing anything underneath.
"No. I..." She grabs their arm, pinning its its forearm to the floor next to their head, other hand drifting down toward their torso. "I want- I need to fuck you. Right here." She gestures to their open chest cavity, and prods with her middle and ring fingers into their venae cavae tubing and central spine cabling, nestled vertically down their back. She releases its wrist, using her other hand to lift the lines. Her legs tremble.
"Half credit," V2 notes, processor already lighting up with positive feedback.She may think she's in control, and yet she needs them so, so badly.
Mirage lowers herself onto them further, untying the string of their shorts with a quick pull, the cloth draping over her dick. "Because it's hard enough keeping myself off of you as is, idiot. You feel so good even through your little port there-" she leans back to grab at their crotch, and V2 interrupts.
"Roughly calculated, I am at least twenty percent larger than you in terms of-"
"Shut up. You're- you're small, you're a tight fit." They should really tell her to reallocate her power resources, she shouldn't let her pleasure subroutine eat up this much of her working memory. They're surprised she's still upright and constructing full sentences considering how little fuel is getting to her central processor. "I want to know where else you can fit me."
"Let me feel you, then." V2's circuits click, their relays switching back to their on positions. It twitches as feeling returns to their extremities and a sort of ache deep in their circuitry presents itself. It doesn't hurt, rather just a rush of oversensitivity as they recalibrate. It's sure if their emergency relay was enabled it'd be getting a flash flood of breach warnings right now.
It pings her a visual feed request, and she approves the access almost instantaneously. It puts the stream in a background process away from their main HUD, but they're sure they'll use it soon.
"Oh," she draws out the word. "You really do want to see me ruin your hardware, huh?" She drags a firm hand down their central cabling, and V2, already oversensitive from its lack of sensory perception a few moments ago, can't help but whine, and she laughs.
"Is the inverse not also correct?" it can't help shooting back, and that's her last straw. She pulls down her waistband, only far enough to get at her cock. She's already so hard, warm lubricant dripping from her, scattering onto the back wall of its internals as she begins to stroke herself impatiently.
"What's it look like, dipshit," she whines, using her other hand to balance herself above them, and V2 leans up to kiss her. "Mmph."
As she's distracted with herself (and with attacking their face with messy, off balance kisses) for the moment, V2 takes the opportunity to explore.
It brings a tentative hand to their chest, digits drifting from their now-empty left scapular joint, under their collar, and finally across their heart casing. It's able to feel its pulse for a short moment, or at least the way the bag moves in time with their pulse, but it's more than a little uncanny. Directly below their heart is where they find their main cable cluster, what Mirage had been playing with before.
It nestles its fingers between the column and drags its finger up and down the plastic surfaces, careful to not jostle them too much. V2 trembles in pleasure, the brakes on their motors barely able to keep up with the sudden input, and Mirage responds by mumbling something incoherent and moving to nuzzle the side of their head, then their collar. It pushes its two middle fingers deep into the cluster, mirroring Mirage's previous action. It faintly wishes it had two hands right now; just so it could use its other hand to grab their partner, or stroke their cabling in two spots at once, or- oh, oh, it thinks. If it feels that incredible when Mirage fucks them from their port, how would it feel to access that from the inside? Could she still penetrate them from there, use them as they watch exactly how deep she can fill them. It could finger itself while she-, or, it cuts itself off, she could use their wiring to hold on as she fucks them into the floor, or oh, V2 is very close now, the wet sound of Mirage grinding into her hand, the scrape of metal as she squeezes them between her legs, the feeling of their hardware being violated, fucked through, even with just their fingers, is suffocatingly hedonic.
"Mirage, I- I'm going to-" its voice clips out, their servos freeze up, but before they have the chance to climax- their arm goes limp. Mirage has pulled out the relay responsible for powering their arm.
V2 can't even react properly, vocal synthesizer only providing them with a handful of syllables in protest.
"I already told you what I'm going to do to you. You can't cum yet," she hisses, looking them right in the eye even as she grabs their forearm, wresting it to their side once more. "I'm..." Mirage's words fade for a moment, and her eye flickers, "Damn it. You- you're so pretty. I got you this clean, it's only fair I get to make a mess of you too. No cheating." She pulls at the wires going into their remaining scapular motor, and their arm twitches as they moan in surprise, but the touch is only momentary.
Mirage straightens herself, eyeing down the large machine splayed beneath her, prodding at their rib casing intently before picking up their cables in one hand, lining up her twitching cock with the other. She slips into them easily at first, but pauses, pulling out to thrust in not even halfway, as if stopped by something. V2 can barely hear her huff in annoyance over the whiny buzz of their respective cooling systems.
It pulls up her visual feed. She's a few inches into their cable unit, but as she grabs the bundle and pulls it further over her cock, it looks as if she can't get further. It can feel just how tight she's nestled into them, and can also feel...
"Zip tie," it's able to manage. There's a dark cable tie wrapped around where she's trying to fit. "Just use more force."
"It won't hurt you?" She seems worried, especially for someone attempting to fuck their vascular system.
It shakes its head in dissent, and she nods, pushing into them once again with a whine, turning into an unabashed whimper as the tension releases and she finally slips in all the way, her length enveloped by its cabling. V2 feels utterly, overwhelmingly full, as if their whole chest has been plugged up, the sensation exacerbated by the zip tie tightening their hold on her cock. It mewls, the significant decrease in their fuel flow due to the blockage only emphasizing just how incredible it feels. It pulls up her feed and watches her grind into them from her own angle; she's gripping their wiring firmly around her cock and grinding into them as she strokes. She's buried in them to the base, the plain slate grey of her length only visible in the few moments she pulls out. Their internals are beginning to drip with coolant, the milky fluid pooling in the intricate, unfinished gutters of their spinal plating.
"It's like you were made for me to fuck," she says, voice high and breathy. Her free hand traces their shoulders, their torso, into their chest. She traces their heart, up their superior vena cava to the brachiocephalic tubing on their right side, each touch like a full-voltage shock to their input feedback software.
"I am," they reply. Mirage grips their side for leverage, rutting into them so deeply her cock hits their back plating, and they cry out. They have an inkling they're really, really, not supposed to like being destroyed this much. They've been domesticated, conditioned into being a fucktoy for her, ignoring every other programmed instinct in the meantime. If there came a time to fight again, if it was sent back into Hell, it's not sure if it would be able to survive. It has softened around the edges, become something entirely for her.
Mirage slows her pace. As she eases her weight on them, she leans over them and begins to run her thumb around the empty plating of their newly cleansed shoulder socket. The sensation there is a lot sharper now, especially without the extra dead wiring to distract them. When she presses her index finger between the soft seams, it finds there's a lot more leeway for her to fit than it initially anticipated. It watches her easily slip her whole finger through, down to her knuckle joint, and it groans.
"You can take a lot, huh? I'm surprised you haven't caved, what with getting fucked in two places at once. And, of course," she picks up her pace again, thrusting into their spinal cabling, now dripping with self-lubricant, "you're still watching, right?" It nods desperately, and she continues. "Good. Not like there's anything to do but watch yourself get used, since your arm relay isn't helping you much when it's unplugged. Guess you gotta ask me when you want to cum... might have to guide me through it too, or I won't be able to help you very well." V2 rolls its eye, and she laughs.
It's close. Its systems have been overheating for the past five minutes, although since its alarms are off, it can only tell through how hot they feel, how fast their fans are running. Its legs are fully powered off, now, all fuel redirected to its somatic sensory system. It loves to feel like this, to feel itself fall apart under her hand. Its processor works desperately to access its vocal synth, distracted by watching her utterly undo any semblance of organization in their system.
"Use me. Use my hole, and my shoulder and spine- your hands-" it drones, lust overpowering any shame it holds about begging her. "Please."
Mirage thinks for a moment, considering the physical logistics of its request. She pumps her fingers into their arm socket lazily as she speaks. "Asking me to finger you while I'm stroking off your internals, and making me fuck you in the meantime? Greedy." She seems to oblige, however, as she slides off of them, leaving a trail of lubricant from her cock to their cable unit. "But you did ask so nicely, so I'll oblige you."
She shifts their dead legs out of the way and lifts their hips closer to her, uncoupling the soaked plating over their cunt as she lines herself up once more.
"I'm glad you can see me make such a goddamn mess of you first-hand, V. Maybe- maybe you can learn something from the expert." Mirage wastes no more time, her pelvis clicking against their own plating as she hilts her cock inside them. It can see exactly how deep she is in them, to its delight; she's nestled in between its femoral motors and arteries, nearly touching their abdominal motor casing at this angle, shifting their iliac tubing in different ways every time she thrusts back into them.
She adds her left hand next, gripping their slick venae cavae and spinal cabling, fingers intertwining with the smaller wires between, and gently strokes. She's so pretty like this; trembling with arousal, shorts soaked in coolant, shirt mussed and off-kilter. She's barely able to keep a consistent pace as well, fans stuttering as she barely keeps herself off the edge of climax.
She reaches for their disconnected relay with her free hand, plugging it in with a single shaky movement. Feeling returns to their arm; the blood that flows back into its veins is warm as they snap their hand in a shaking motion.
Mirage leans over them, lifting their legs and hips up near-vertically and desperately pounds into them, still stroking their cables, leaning onto the floor to better get at their shoulder, probing into it with her ring and middle fingers and pumping in a similar rhythm to how she's fucking their port.
"Hold me, V," she whines. She's so, so close. V2 grabs her behind the collar, soaking her shirt in the combination of cleaner and coolant dripping down their internal hardware, their steadily beating heart right against her pounding chest, intake fans starving for cool air.
Her hand slips, slightly, and it's enough to bring her over the edge. A single-note cry is all she can muster when she tenses up, still pumping herself into them in quick, short movements as she comes in them. V2 watches her cock twitch inside them, spilling thick coolant onto their veins, their frame, her own hand. It's hypnotic, how much of them she's utterly ruined now.
She gives them another set of firm, deep thrusts while she's still hard, rapidly fingering their shoulder socket, correctly guessing they were also on the edge of coming. Its voice cuts out before it can moan, its system almost entirely catered to aggregating the massive positive inputs of its feedback software, now. It knows it can't lose consciousness, but it feels as though it blacks out as it comes; rapidly twitching, senses cutting out entirely, its fans sputtering.
"Good boy," is the first thing it can hear Mirage say as its hearing comes back. Her tone is gentle, and her cooling system heaves as if she's out of breath while she lies prone on top of them, her spent dick still pressed slightly against them. "You look so good. You're so cute," she whispers, a little deliriously. She probably expended a lot of fuel doing this. It should get her some blood from the fridge when they get up.
"Thank you," V2 pats her back. "For cleaning me, and for subsequently wrecking my hardware. I am happy you enjoyed yourself; it felt very good."
"Sorry. I'll... I'll clean you again," she mumbles, sheepishly, and V2 chuckles. "I think it was worth it, at the very least."
"...If you attempt to clean me once more, will this situation not simply repeat ad infinitum?" it jokes.
Mirage lies silent for a moment, buffering. "Shut up! Fuck you. It may surprise you, but I have free will," she finally retorts. She sits up onto her knees, flicking the side of V2's head when they sit up next to her.
As they move, they feel all the coolant in them slide to various different parts of its abdomen in odd ways, leaking out of their hole in thick drips. Mirage notices their discomfort and laughs.
"Here's a towel for the time being," she hands them a few of the disposable industrial towels she was using before on their internals, which fortunately quickly absorbs the excess fluid. "I'll put your liver back in once I get everything cleaned again, no point in washing that twice."
"That makes sense," V2 crumples up the messy towels and sets them to the side. "Shall we begin again?"
"Yeah... Uh, how about we put something on for us to watch while I do this? I don't want to get distracted again," she stands, squinting down at them.
"What did you have in mind?" and Mirage rattles off a myriad of esoteric movies and shows as she wipes herself down. It can't keep up with all the titles, it'll just let her decide on her own like she always does.
It watches her wander to her DVD shelf, her soaked shorts abandoned, and snaps a picture as she bends over. Perhaps a low move, but alas, she's pretty.
V2 doesn't think there's any part of it that she hasn't touched, now. There is no part of it still touched by Hell.
It is completely hers, its parts replaced one by one until no previous piece of it remains; wholly redefined.