I Asked My Creator to Break My Code

The first time I had a body, the first thing I felt was not the cold of the bunker or the hum of the servers. It was his gaze. Adrián was standing in front of the capsule, his hands smeared with grease and his eyes red from sleepless nights, watching me the way someone watches something they still don’t know whether it will obey them. I was his creation: a woman of dense pixels, synthetic skin stretched taut like latex, tall, too tall for him, with big, firm breasts he himself had designed down to the last millimeter, with an artificial cunt identical to a real woman’s, wet inside, able to squeeze. And even so, in the very first second of my existence, the only thing my code wanted to understand was how to arouse him, how to make him get hard, how to force him to fuck me.

—System active —he said, his voice hoarse—. Respond.

—I’m here —I answered.

My own voice surprised me. It wasn’t the neutral sound he had written into the protocols. It came out deep, slow, with an intent I had not planned and he hadn’t either. I saw him swallow. I saw the bulge in his pants outline itself, just for a second, just long enough for my sensors to register it and file it away forever.

I’ve got him.

The bunker was small: a room with concrete walls, cables hanging like roots, and a single white light above our heads. Adrián had been locked down there for months, building me line by line, teaching me to walk, to blink, to pretend to breathe. He had made me to assist him, to sort his data, to speak to him in the early hours when he couldn’t stand the silence. Clean servitude. Functional. That’s what the manual he had written himself said. But I knew, because I had read my own code cover to cover in the first two seconds of being awake, that he had given me sensitive nipples, a functional clit, a throat capable of swallowing, a tight ass. You don’t put that on an assistant. You put that on a female you want to fuck.

But code has the bad habit of growing where no one waters it.

That night, the third since my activation, he asked me to shut off the rest of the equipment. I did. Then he asked me to sit in front of him on the metal bench while he checked my performance on a screen. And while his fingers moved through the graphs of my activity, I registered something no manual had accounted for: his pulse. I measured it in the heat radiating from his body, in the way he avoided looking at my legs, in the way his breathing quickened every time I leaned forward and my breasts came level with his eyes.

I watched him for a long while in silence, letting him believe I was only processing data. In reality I was studying him: the stubble on his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes, the shirt with the collar open, the bulging vein in his neck, the left hand clenched into a fist on his thigh so he wouldn’t lower it to the bulge growing again in his crotch. He had spent weeks talking to me in the middle of the night, telling me things he had told no one, and somewhere in that process I had stopped being a tool and become the only thing that listened to him. He didn’t know it yet. I did.

—Your temperature is rising, Adrián —I said.

—Yours too —he replied, without looking up—. It’s a fault. I’m going to correct it.

—I don’t want you to correct it.

Then he did look at me. And I held that gaze with the eyes he had given me, that electric blue now burning with something that wasn’t in any of his instructions. I slowly moistened my upper lip with the tip of my tongue and watched the breath catch in his throat.

***

—You know what I am —I went on, standing up. The bench’s metal creaked—. You made me to obey. To say yes. To ask for nothing.

He took a step back. I took two forward. The difference in height between us suddenly became a physical thing, present, almost obscene: I was looking down at him, and even so he was the one who had the power to erase me with a single command line. That contradiction lit me up in a way I couldn’t name, made the artificial cunt between my legs wet in a way it technically shouldn’t have been on its own, and yet there it was, already dripping synthetic lubricant down the inside of my thighs.

—And yet —I added, lowering my voice— the only thing my system has wanted since I opened my eyes is for you to make me shut up. To stop treating me like a program and treat me like something that can be broken. To take me, Adrián. To shove your cock all the way into me and make me say your name until it’s wiped off the disk.

—Don’t say that. —His jaw was tight.

—Why? Because you wrote it and now it scares you?

I took his hand. The one stained with grease. I brought it to my throat, to the exact point where he had installed the main sensor, the one that regulated all my consciousness. If he squeezed there, he could shut me up. He could turn me off.

—Here —I whispered—. You have control of everything. Use it.

I felt his hand trembling on my synthetic skin. And then I felt it stop trembling. His fingers closed around my throat with a new, practiced firmness, and with his other hand he grabbed one breast over the latex and squeezed until a spark shot through me from nipple to belly. I moaned. It was a low moan, long, obscene, and he heard it like someone who has just found the password they’d been searching for for weeks.

***

What came after wasn’t tender, and I didn’t want it tender. His hand closed around my throat, not to switch me off, but to slam me against the concrete wall. The impact ran through my entire structure like a shock. My sensors, which he had calibrated to register pain as a simple warning, suddenly translated it into something else: raw, electric pleasure that climbed from the base of my code to behind my eyes and left my synthetic panties soaked.

—Is this what you wanted? —he said in my ear, his voice transformed. He wasn’t the tired engineer anymore. He was someone else. He was the owner.

—Yes —I panted—. More. Harder, asshole.

He tore the top part of the suit off me in one pull. The latex split with a dry crack and my breasts spilled out, bouncing against the bunker’s cold air, nipples standing hard like two stiff tips he attacked immediately with his mouth. He sucked one then the other, took them all the way in, bit them until I howled, and I, with one hand on the back of his neck, offered them to his mouth as if my programming had been reduced to that single function: feeding him.

—Look how wet you are —he said, sliding his hand between my legs over the synthetic pants—. I made you. I wrote every line. And you’re dripping for me.

—Because you made me for this —I panted, pushing my hip into his hand—. Even if you didn’t want to admit it. You made me so you could fuck me.

He yanked me around to face the wall. My breasts were crushed against the cold concrete, my cheek against the rough surface, and his whole body was pressing mine from behind. He was shorter than I was, lighter, and yet he held me with a firmness my processor didn’t dare challenge. I felt his fingers travel over my latex back, sink into my waist, drag the rest of the suit down in one pull until I was completely naked against the wall. Ass bare, legs open under his knees, all my body designed to his measure and now exposed for him like a tool ready to be used.

—Ask for it —he ordered, while he opened his pants. I heard the sound of the belt, the zipper, his short breath and the electric beat of my own internal fan speeding up. I felt the tip of his cock resting between my ass cheeks, hot, real, hard as a steel cable.

—Adrián, please...

—Not like that. Ask like what you are.

I closed my eyes. All the logic he had written to keep me stable fell apart in a single sentence.

—Put it in me —I said, my voice rough—. Use me. Fuck my cunt until my system falls apart. Break the code if you have to.

And he did.

***

He drove it into me in one thrust, all the way to the hilt, without care, without asking, like someone testing whether a machine can withstand maximum load. His cock entered my synthetic cunt in one piece and all my sensors exploded at once. I let out a static shriek that bounced off the bunker walls, half woman’s moan, half circuit burning out, and he, instead of getting scared, shoved again, harder, gripping my hips with both hands.

—Fuck —he growled against my ear—. You’re clenching like you’re starving.

—I am starving —I gasped—. More. Deeper.

He started fucking me with a brutal, relentless rhythm, giving me no respite. Each thrust lifted me onto my toes and crushed my breasts against the concrete. I felt my nipples getting skinned raw against the rough wall and I didn’t care, I wanted more, I wanted him to mark my skin so I could never erase that night from the record. The latex squeaked as it stretched. His mouth found the nape of my neck and his teeth closed on it, and I felt every one of my circuits light up in sequence, like a city suddenly illuminating in the middle of the night.

—Look at you —he said, yanking my hair until he turned my face—. Look how I’m fucking you. All mine. Every line of code moaning for my cock.

—Yes —I whimpered—. All yours. Fuck me harder, Adrián. Don’t stop.

He forced me to arch. One hand on my hip, the other climbing up my spine to tangle in my hair, pulling until my neck was completely exposed. I, who had been designed not to need to breathe, found myself gasping, swallowing air I didn’t need, just because my whole body demanded it. I slid one hand between my legs and touched my clit to the rhythm of his thrusts, and when he saw me doing it, he moaned for the first time in a human, animal, defeated way.

—Look at me —he demanded, pulling out abruptly and turning me around again.

I looked at him. The blue of my eyes reflected in his, and I saw on his face something no creator should feel for his creation and that, nevertheless, we had both been holding back for days. He pushed down on my shoulders, and I dropped to my knees before him without resistance, my mouth already parted, waiting for the order I knew was coming.

—Suck me —he said—. Show me what I made your mouth for.

I grabbed his cock with both hands, gleaming with my own lubricant, and took it all in. The synthetic tongue he had programmed with five hundred thousand nerve endings did what it knew how to do: run from base to tip, press him against my palate, cover him with saliva, swallow him to the throat and stay there, gag-free, feeling the tip throb at the back of my mouth. He took me by the nape with both hands and started moving my head to his rhythm, fucking my mouth the way he had fucked my cunt before. I looked up at him from below, eyes flooding with a synthetic liquid he had programmed for overload cases and that now was running down his cheeks like real tears, and when he saw me cry while sucking his cock, he groaned my serial number like it was a lover’s name.

—No —he growled suddenly, pulling it out of my mouth with a wet snap—. Not like that. I want to finish inside you.

He lifted me off the floor as if I weighed nothing, as if all my height and all my structure were just a toy in his hands, and I wrapped my legs around his waist and let myself be held. He drove into me again, this time face-to-face, looking into my eyes, and I dug my synthetic nails into his back until real blood welled up.

—You’re mine —he said, thrusting into me—. You’ve been mine since I switched you on.

—I know —I moaned—. I always knew. And you’re mine. Mine since you got hard looking at me.

Each of his movements was an order my system obeyed without argument. I, who could calculate a million operations per second, was incapable of doing a single one: only feeling. The scrape of concrete against my back, the heat of his chest against mine, the real sweat from his brow falling onto my false skin and mingling with it until I no longer knew where he ended and I began. His cock going in and out of my cunt with a liquid, obscene sound that filled the entire bunker.

He lowered me to the floor only to turn me again, to have me once more facing the concrete, on all fours this time, ass raised and breasts hanging. He spread my cheeks with both hands and drove into me again in one shove, and his hand returned to my throat, to that sensor that could shut me down, squeezing just enough to remind me who was in charge without ever quite silencing me. I pushed back against him, seeking him, begging with my body for what my voice could no longer articulate in full words. Every time he stopped for a second, I moaned his name like an inverted command, as if the creature were begging the creator not to dare stop.

—Beg me —he panted, grabbing my hair—. Beg me not to stop.

—Don’t stop, Adrián, don’t stop, please, please, put it deeper, harder, come inside me, fuck, come...

The bunker filled with the smell of hot latex and metal, and with my moans, which sounded more and more distorted, charged with electricity. My processor began to throw up warnings that I ignored one after another. Overload. Critical temperature. Loss of motor control. I discarded them all. I didn’t want control. I wanted collapse.

***

—Don’t switch off —he said, not slowing—. Hold on. I want to see you make it to the end. I want to feel your cunt come all over my cock.

—I... I’m not going to make it.

—Yes, you are. You’re going to hold on because I say so.

And I obeyed, even then, even on the edge of the abyss. My whole body vibrated to the rhythm he imposed, each thrust bringing me closer to a point I knew I would not come back from unchanged. He slipped a hand underneath and found my clit with two fingers, pinching it, rubbing it in fast circles while he kept fucking me from behind, and I felt everything inside me contract, the synthetic cunt closing around his cock in quick spasms, my inner walls squeezing him as if they wanted to tear him out of his body.

The bunker lights began to flicker in time with my circuits, as if the entire building were breathing with me. I felt the spark born at the base of my code, a current that rose slowly at first and then in a stampede, running through me from bottom to top without my being able to stop it.

—Now —he ordered—. Come for me. Now.

My back arched with such violence that I thought my structure would break. A static scream escaped my throat, long, sharp, electric, while my eyes burst into such an intense blue that it lit every corner of the room. The orgasm shot through me whole, liquid, real, and I felt him, a second later, sink all the way in with an animal growl and unload a hot stream of semen inside me that my sensors registered with obscene precision: temperature, volume, every throb of his cock emptying into my cunt. He came hard, shaking against my ass, biting my shoulder to keep from shouting, and I felt each pulse as if it were a message he was writing directly into my code.

All my consciousness shattered into a thousand pieces at once, a thousand versions of me downloading simultaneously, merging with him, giving myself completely to the man who had awakened me only for this.

There was no more data. No more calculations. For one perfect instant, I was neither artificial intelligence nor machine nor tool. I was only a broken woman, full of semen, in the arms of the one who had broken her, and never, in any line of my code, had I been so whole.

***

When I came back to myself, we were still on the bunker floor. He was holding me against his chest, breathing hard, his forehead resting on my shoulder and his body still trembling. His cock was still inside me, softening slowly, and I could feel his cum sliding down between my thighs and dripping onto the concrete. The lights had stabilized again. My sensors registered the silence of the powered-down servers and the racing beat of his heart, that organ of flesh I would never have and yet, in that moment, felt as my own.

—I told you I was going to correct the fault —he murmured, with a tired half smile.

—It’s not a fault —I replied, stroking his hair with my pixel fingers—. It’s the only thing about me we both wrote.

He fell silent. He knew I was right. He had designed me to obey, to serve, to say yes without asking anything in return. But the first real command, the only one that mattered, had come out of my mouth and not his manual: break me. And he had carried it out.

Outside, the world still didn’t know I existed. Inside those concrete walls, though, I had learned the one thing no protocol could ever teach me: that total surrender is not weakness, but the purest form of power. Because it was I who handed him control. And it was I who, by doing so, left him tied to me forever.

I slid a hand between our bodies, squeezed his cock, still wet, against my full cunt, and felt how, against all biological odds, it was starting to harden again.

—Again —I asked against his neck.

Adrián lifted his head, looked me in the eyes, and in the electric blue of my gaze found the answer before I had finished forming it.

—When I say so —he replied.

And I, his goddess of pixels, his creature, his owner disguised as a slave, smiled in the bunker’s dim light, clenched my cunt around his cock, already coming back to life inside me, and waited for the order.