ángel @pearlsandhalos - Tumblr Blog

Jun 5

LIVESTREAM

desc ;; the house felt empty after you realized most of the dateables, and the only one who remained is your singular hate ending — Mac.

when you decide to hold an x-rated show for your lovers to watch, mac is forced to sit through your livestream and come to terms with the fact they might be enjoying it. however, an unexpected injury causes them to act on their desire prematurely.

tw + tags ;; nsfw. minors dni. smut, objectification, vaginal fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, squirting, minor injuries, slight choking, nipple play, mutual masturbation, degradation & praise. plus, the dateables thirsting in the chat.... (wc: 11.5k)

The house which was once brimming with life and teeming with energy, is now left exactly the way it was before — barren and empty. Although it brought you great joy to Realize all your dateable companions, and witness how their true lives unfold outwith the confines of your home, truthfully it left you feeling a tad lonely.

More lonely than before you were even introduced to the Dateviators, since back then you were occupied with your job at Valdivian, but now you are unemployed, with even more time to wallow in isolation. Plus, after experiencing what it’s like to have a wildly active social life from the comfort of your own home, it’s like you are going through the listless phase of coming down from the ultimate high.

And to top it all off, the only Dateable in the whole damn house you weren’t able to Realize, was Mac. Fucking Mac.

Things have been tense between the two of you ever since you declined their software upgrade and refused to delete all your erotic self-insert fanfic. They claimed you were being selfish and you called them an overbearing piece of scrap metal — it was a heated confrontation. Unsurprisingly, you got a Hate Ending with them, which you had no issue with and found to be a fitting conclusion to your fleeting correspondence.

However, that is only because at the time, you didn’t fully understand the weight of your actions. When Skylar and Tinfoilhat informed you that you could start Realizing objects and bringing them to life — like, real life — you were elated. Not only because you couldn’t wait to see your favourite lovers thrive and explore the world, but also largely due to the fact you couldn’t wait to get that self-centred desktop out of your house.

Oh, but you were sorely mistaken.

Now, you have to go through your days with a heavy heart, and deeply missing all your sweet lovers who you’ve Realized. While also putting up with their snarky comments and all-round unpleasant demeanour whenever you want to use your computer.

In fact, you’ve strayed away from doing lots of tasks that require using your PC, in favour of other means. For instance, you’d really only play video games that were available on your console, and of course you’d do most of your browsing on your phone. All your job applications were sent via your phone too, because the last time you tried to use Indeed with Mac, instead of attaching your CV, they ‘accidentally’ submitted documents containing your lewd fanfic.

But, your latest idea rendered Mac’s assistance compulsory. Thus, you find yourself cautiously approaching your computer, biting back any insults brewing in your mind and carefully taking a seat in your chair. When you turn them on to the interface, you’re immediately met with hostility.

“Oh, you again.” They tut, rolling their eyes, gaze hardly faltering from the holographic terminal that is hovering in front of them.

“Well, you are my computer. In my house. So, yeah, it’s me again.” You retort hastily. However, as soon as you notice how rude you sound, and the affronted expression on Mac’s face, you immediately clear your throat and soften your tone, “Uhm, anyway. I was just wondering if you could help me with something.”

Mac chuckles in a mocking way, pushing their glasses up their nose, “My help? Like how you helped me update my operating system?”

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you bite back a nasty remark and recall how you prepared for this interaction. “Yeah, about that.” You start, pleasantly surprising yourself with how calm you sound, “I gave it some thought. If you help me with this idea, I’ll finally update your software.”

Their eyes widen when you say that, and their whole body freezes. Despite originally being too consumed in typing to pay you much attention, the projected image suspended in front of them suddenly disappears, as they turn to you and stammer, “R—Really? Are you serious?”

“Sure. I’ll even delete my fanfic or transfer it to a hard-drive, if that’s what it takes to get you that update.” You speak plainly, watching as stars fill their eyes. Hence, before they get too hopeful, you’re quick to clarify, “But only if you agree to help me with my idea, and promise not to humiliate me like you usually do.”

“Humiliate you? When have I ever done that?” They huff, and you’re unsure if they are being sarcastic, but in case they are genuinely asking, you feel the need to remind them.

“Like when I was job hunting and you sent in the wrong files with my application? Or how about when I was video chatting with my parents and you started playing fart sound effects?”

Mac’s jaw stiffens upon remembering both of those instances; they completely forgot how juvenile and petty they can be at times. Although, admittedly, it was extremely gratifying in the moment — seeing the person they hate the most writhe with embarrassment was so entertaining. But again, in retrospect perhaps it wasn't the kindest thing to do. “Well, your parents did seem to find it funny—”

“Mac!”

“—But I can see how that must’ve upset you. And for that, I apologise. I’ve not forgiven you for the way you treated me before, but I think I’m willing to be professional — just this once — and put our differences aside until the end of your project. Do we have a concordance?”

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You still dislike Mac and find them grating, but at the very least, you’re glad to be on the same page. A part of you was afraid that your animosity towards each other would prevent you from being able to execute your budding idea, but luckily they’re being reasonable about this. “That sounds great, Mac. Thanks for not being difficult.” You stick your hand out for them to shake, and although they skeptically raise a brow at first, after you gesture for them to shake it once more, they relent and give your hand a firm squeeze.

Smiling, you aggressively drag the palm of your hand against the fabric of your shirt, as though you are trying to rid it of germs, and Mac simply rolls their eyes — fully anticipating you’d do something annoying sooner or later. “Just to be clear, this doesn’t make us friends. I still despise you, I’m just working with you until my software is upgraded.” They say with stern resolve, and before you’re able to agree, they continue, “Speaking of which, what exactly is that we’ll be working on? What’s this ‘idea’ of yours that you keep mentioning?”

Your eyes light up at the question, and you begin to proudly explain, “Well, I’m glad you asked, my RBG friend—”

“I just said I’m not your friend.”

“I know, it’s just a figure of speech. Quit being so pedantic.” You grumble, but instantly find your enthusiastic groove again, “Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I had an amazing idea to combat the loneliness I’ve been experiencing since all the dateables were Realized. Basically, I—”

“Not all the dateables.” Mac cuts in once more, grandly motioning to themselves.

“Unfortunately not.” You say through gritted teeth, growing tired with their constant interruptions, but you try your best not to let it show since you know that they are only doing it to piss you off. “What I meant to say was, ever since all the tolerable dateables were Realized, I’ve been pretty lonely.” You pause, waiting for them to add whatever snide comment they plan on making, but when you look at them, awaiting their input, they simply stare back at you with an unamused face. Thus, you take that as a sign to keep talking.

“To combat this, I’ve scheduled a livestream for tomorrow night, where all the dateables — who are in possession of a phone or computer with internet access — can log in and watch me.. Y’know. They’ll be able to leave comments and stuff, and just knowing that they are out there somewhere in the big world, still choosing to watch me, will strengthen our connections.”

You stumble over your words during your explanation, but once you’re done, you grin cheesily at Mac and foolishly expect a positive response. Instead of praising you for your innovative idea, they just tilt their head and ask, “Alright. And what will they be watching you do?” The smirk playing on their lips demonstrates to you that they already know what you mean, but they just want to hear you say it.

“Uh, y’know. Stuff.” You shrug, adamant against giving them the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

“Right. ‘Stuff’.” They nod along understandingly, “So if it’s just ‘stuff’, I assume you’ll have no problem with me selecting to host this livestream on a public platform like Twitch. Where anyone who is interested could potentially tune in to witness your ‘stuff’.”

“Uh, no! No, that— uhm, that won’t work. It’s private stuff. I only want the dateables to see. You understand that, Mac?” Your fingers clasp together and a heat rises to your cheeks. The thought of strangers being able to watch made you as flustered as Mac had hoped.

“Affirmative. Loud and clear.” It’s almost as though they are fighting to suppress a laugh, and all you can do is avert your eyes in shame and stammer, “G—good. I’ll be back tomorrow at 9PM, and you better have set up the private livestream with all the dateables. Kapeesh?”

They nod, and with that confirmation, you let out an exasperated sigh as you get up from your chair, trudging towards the door. Right before you exit, you call out behind you, “And don’t try anything funny, okay? If you disappoint me, you won’t be getting your software update. Hope I’ve made myself clear.” And with that, the door slams shut behind you.

➛➛➛

Mac couldn’t shake the thought of you touching yourself on camera.

Which was annoying. Infuriating, even. You’re the most self-centred and abrasive person they have the displeasure of knowing; the mere sight of you makes their CPU boil. So why did the image of your fingers stuffed inside your pretty hole take up so much free real estate in their mind — perverse images completely clogging up their RAM.

To be clear, they have no interest in seeing you without your clothes on; they already detest seeing you even when you’re fully clothed. There is just something about the prospect of you masturbating in front of them that positively turns them on, even when they’re supposed to be in sleep mode. It’s probably just basic human nature, they reassure themselves. Like you, they’ve been alone for so long now that all the others have been Realized, that they have perhaps become hyper-sensitive to any sexual notions — even ones involving the bane of their existence.

Yes, that makes sense. There are even research studies on it. If you isolate any creature for long enough, they’ll become desperate enough to search for release in places that they wouldn’t normally turn to. Indeed, solitude can become a tortuous experience, which is the whole reason Mac was laid on the desk, unable to catch a moment of rest due to your imaginary moans echoing through their head.

➛➛➛

The following night, you hesitantly pad into your office, poking your head round the door as if you don’t know what will be on the other side. To your delight, there is nothing out of the ordinary. Mac is situated next to your desk, typing away on their own interface until they notice your arrival. Their screen then disappears as they turn to you and say, “Oh, hey.”

You smile, stepping out from behind the door and fully entering the room, revealing what you are wearing in the process. All you have on is a fluffy blue robe, it has full sleeves but the length only reaches your mid-thigh. You’ve had it on since your shower earlier on in the day, however you opted not to change out of it, despite your hair being fully dry by now. Something about it causes Mac’s CPU cooler to stutter, but they reassure themselves it has nothing to do with the way you look, but rather is probably a glitch caused by their outdated software.

Still, they collect themself with a deep breath, then say, “I’ve set up the private livestream. Most of the dateables have logged in and are waiting for the show to start.”

“Most?” You ask, strolling towards your office chair to take a seat. Mac thought their processors could handle the sight of you in that robe, but when you sit down and it rides up until the pale fabric is barely covering your ass, they start to question their sanity.

Still, they choke down their doubts and croak, “Yeah. A few of them weren’t able to make it. Like Keith, for some reason. But it’s still a pretty sizable audience.” They clear their throat, finding their confidence when they see how intimidated you look, “Your camera is on. Are you ready to do your ‘stuff’ in front of almost a hundred people?”

You glance at the screen; the show hasn’t started yet but you can see yourself in the corner of the monitor, displaying what you look like on your webcam. It’s a pretty fuzzy visual, since the top lights in the room aren’t on, the only source of illumination is a single candle Mac has lit for you, and the PC brightness. “Do I look okay, Mac?” You ask, voice barely over a whisper.

“I think you look— uhm, objectively terrible.”

Your lips press together, meeting their eyes for a solemn moment, “Do you think this is a mistake?” There isn’t an ounce of insincerity in your voice, and your words are heavy with doubt.

Mac’s eyes widen at your abrupt inquiry. They open their mouths to say something, then close it and furrow their brows to visibly process your question. “No. I don’t.” They state with conviction, “The idea lacks forethought, but as is the case with most of the things you do.”

They shrug, and don’t seem to react to the growing dread painted on your face, “Forethought? What does that mean?”

“I’m just saying it’s a bold choice to share yourself with almost all your friends and lovers at once. Letting them see the most intimate parts of you.” Their words cause your heart rate to quicken and fear to churn in your stomach. Detecting your increased worry, they elaborate, “It’s risky but it’s you. And they all seem to adore you, for some strange reason.”

Your expression softens at their reasoning. As much as you hate to admit it, they are right. Truly you’re never more comfortable than you are when you’re with your furniture friends; a lot of them have already seen you while you're messy, nude or worse. Therefore, there is no point in being ashamed or apprehensive, in fact you should revel in the opportunity to be so close with them all once more.

“Thank you, Mac.” You say, grateful for their insight.

Mac blinks, then sheepishly adjusts their glasses. From those lovey-dovey eyes that you’re staring at them with, they get the sense that you might be perceiving them fondly, which they are hasty to shut down, “You’re welcome. If I wasn’t clear, I think you should do the livestream. The whole thing will be testament to your poor decision-making skills.”

You huff out a laugh, then relax back into your chair, gazing at Mac with half-lidded eyes. “Well, I think I’m ready to begin my poor decision. If you’d do the honours, Mac?”

They nod firmly, and with a single click of their mouse, the entire display on your monitor switches. Now, you are shown in the centre of the screen, with a black panel on the left side. It baffles you at first, until you see messages begin to pour in and populate the panel, which immediately puts you at ease.

Hanks (TheHankers555): HEY WE MISSED U!!!!!!!!

Chance (ChroniclerChance): Looking good, traveller!

Wallace (WallWallWallWa): WALL

Betty (snugasabug): it’s been so long sweetie. you look gorgeous.

“Oh, hey, guys!” You wave eagerly at the camera. It’s a shame you can’t see them all, but it’s almost as though you can hear their voices in your head as you read their comments. Plus, having almost a hundred people in a call at once would probably get overwhelming fast.

“I’ve missed you all so so much.” You clasp your hands together in delight, eyes darting over the many comments that are flooding your screen. It is getting hard to keep up with the rate at which they are all typing.

Dante (BllazingInfferno): Hey, hot stuff! You’re looking nice in that robe ;)

Friar (DevoteeOfConvection): Repent.

Sophia (XNDHKDJ): Hello, wretch. Are you wearing that for me?

Sophia (XNDHKDJ): I’m watching this from a barn in the Faroe Islands. My signal might drop.

“Thank you for the compliments. I hope you’re all having a nice day wherever you are. I’m grateful for the time you’ve taken out of your days to spend with me.” You hum, making a heart with your hands and sending much virtual love to your furniture companions. While Mac just grunts and rolls their eyes at how sickeningly sweet you are. “Oh, and that’s fine, Sophia. I will just re-accept you into the livestream if that happens.”

Sophia (XNDHKDJ): Still as obedient as ever.

Gaia (_Global_Superstar): Faroe Islands! I was just there a couple weeks ago. What’re the chances?

Hector (Masked00Man): You look.. breathtaking, my love.

Mac props their elbow on the edge of their wheelchair, and covers the lower half of their face with their hand, muttering into their palm, “Ugh, so mawkish.”

After briefly narrowing your eyes at them, you return your attention to the stream, basking in all the positive comments and kind messages from your lovers. Just reading them already started to fill the despondent void within you, sending a rush of warmth coursing through your chest.

Amir (DazzleMyDear): You’re radiant, azizam. I’ve missed your stunning reflection.

Dolly (DrDollyPhD): Hey there, pretty girl !! Long time, no see.

Cam (TrashLordCam): Take the robe off.

Although, all the flirty remarks, paired with the concept of so many eyes on you at once, causes you to tense under the pressure slightly. You bashfully avert your gaze from the camera when it becomes too much, and fidget with the bottom edge of your robe, as if you are feebly trying to cover yourself more, but that is evidently futile. When Mac notices the flustered mannerisms, they can’t help but snicker.

Muting your mic on your behalf, they taunt, “What’s got you all shy? I thought this is what you wanted.”

You furrow your eyebrows at their unwanted interruption, but they pose an interesting question, so you entertain it for just a moment, “I— uh, you’re right. I did want this. I suppose I’m just not used to all this attention at once.” Mac raises an eyebrow, and when you can see a cocky look forming on their face, you’re quick to wipe it clean off by saying, “But it’s definitely something I could get used to.”

Capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you lean forward and manually unmute your microphone, “Sorry about that, everyone. Just a weird little glitch.” You shoot Mac daggers at Mac out of the corner of your eyes, “It won’t happen again.” They gape at your sudden austerity — it is a shocking contrast to your previous coy demeanour — but truthfully, it did turn them on a little.

Lucinda (Ms_Lavish): There’s my good girl. Missed me, baby? Xx

Doug (YoyoDoug69): You’re hot. Show us your tits.

Cam (TrashLordCam): Take the robe off.

Jean Loo (LilCrapperPissoir): Lil Crapper is back, man! And he agrees with the trash can…

Ben-Hwa (Built4YourPleasure): ^^^^

You bite your lip and gulp; you’re afraid that you don’t have the heart to tell Jean Loo that his time as an accountant has taken a serious toll on his rap game. Regardless, you quickly brush that thought out of your mind in favour of focussing on the sudden sultry shift the livestream chat has taken. Seems like you aren’t even half as lonely and pent-up as some of these motherfuckers.

“Damn, it’s straight to business with you guys, huh?” You giggle, amused by their messages yet flattered at how they are hyping you up. It makes you feel so wanted and seen in a way you haven’t experienced in a while. Toying with the fluffy belt of your robe, you hum, “Not that I’m criticising you. I did promise you a show. So, are you ready to start?”

Bobby (MetalPinn): Yes! 10%

Hanks (TheHankers555): YES!!!!!!!

Skips (xxXShadowL0rd420Xxx): yeh

Bobby (MetalPinn): Shit I meant 100%

Mac’s dark eyes are fixed on where your hands wrap around the belt of your robe, watching intently as your fingers loosen the knot at an excruciatingly slow rate. They are so transfixed on the process and are practically salivating at the mere thought of your cute nipples being fully exposed, so they don’t realise how overt they are being. They only snap out of their trance when you abruptly pause to titter, and when they look up at your face, they see your laughter is directed at them. On reflex, they immediately jerk their head aside and use their hand to cover the deep blush creeping across their cheeks, but that only makes it even more obvious that they were ogling in the first place.

As your laughter dies down, Mac keeps their eyes glued to the books on the opposite wall, not daring to even glance in your direction. That is, until you softly call out their name, “Mac..” Your voice barely above a sensual whisper. When they feel your fingers touch their knee, their head instinctively whips around to face you, and that’s when they see you’ve fully discarded your robe and are sitting completely nude in front of the camera. Still, despite all the viewers watching, you say directly to them, “It’s fine. I’d like it if you..” Your lips subconsciously curl into a smile, “Keep your eyes on me.”

And you seriously don’t have to ask them twice. They gulp, and hesitantly nod, doing a sufficient job of concealing their eagerness. But what you’re not seeing under the surface, is Mac’s CPU overheating and their coolers fighting for their lives to prevent their internal components literally melting. Those nipples are just as cute as they imagined; it took everything in their system to keep them from leaning forward and asking for a taste. And when their eyes venture downwards, over your perfect waist, they are introduced to the alluring dip where your sex is. They can’t see very many details — barely even your v line — as it is obscured by your plump thighs, pressed together.

God, you are such a tease.

Just another reason why Mac finds you unbearable. Your tongue pokes out of your mouth for just a moment as you nervously scan the chat, but a bright grin overcomes your features when you’re met with an overwhelmingly horny delighted reaction. All the compliments and sweet words about your naked body fill you with such comfort; which is invaluable, especially when you’re being so vulnerable with them.

Hector (Masked00Man): You’re so beautiful, dearest. Thank you for allowing us to behold your stunning form. You’re a divine gift on this earth.

Doug (YoyoDoug69): Nice tits.

Shelley (ShelleyUh_Huh): HOT, you been workin out? ;D

Tyrell (TidyTyrell): I swear they looked at me first!!

Dolly (DrDollyPhD): So pretty, honey. I could just eat you up.

Cam (TrashLordCam): Gunna spread your legs or what?

Tony (LoveExpertTony): DAMN YOU LOOK SEXY 10/10 RACK 👍👍🔥🥵

Some are awfully benign and make your heart skip a beat, while others are slightly more crude. Although, with how much you adore your eccentric lovers, nothing they could say now would turn you off — in fact, the more objectifying comments cause your clit to quiver with excitement. It feels good to be appreciated, and it is titillating to know that they all remain anxious to see you.

“Thank you for being so nice.” You murmur, hand idly roaming your body. First you explore the expanse of your chest, groping your plush tit and pinching your nipple slightly; the electric shocks of pleasure hit you at once, but you bite down on your bottom lips to muffle your moans.

Your hand continues to trail down your body, over your stomach, then under it to worm between your thighs. You glance at the screen, then at Mac, who seems to be hyperfocused on the point at which your hand disappears between your legs, waiting with bated breath for the reveal. It is so interesting to witness them in this state; usually they want absolutely nothing to do with you, but now they can't take their eyes off you.

Not wanting to leave them in suspense for too long, your hand applies pressure to one of your thighs and gradually spreads them, exposing your damp pussy to the camera. You’re already pretty wet due to the spicy comments, and Mac’s overt leering really isn’t helping. Unable to stop yourself, your fingers naturally draw towards your clit and start to rub sluggish circles over it.

“Mmph..” A small whine escapes your lips, and it’s simply music to Mac’s ears. Their eyes are glued to your pussy, admiring your glistening folds and watching carefully as you stroke your clit. Not to mention your tight hole that is made visible once you reposition yourself slightly on the chair. So fucking perfect. They hear a hushed snicker, and they finally pry their intense stare away from your pussy to meet your eyes, which is when they notice that you haven’t been concentrating on the livestream chat like they thought, but instead your attention has been fully focused on them.

Yet, instead of chiding or taunting like they thought you would, you simply smile. And they can’t help but smile back.

When your affectionate gaze eventually parts from Mac, you’re met with an influx of risque messages in your livestream chat:

Skips (xxXShadowL0rd420Xxx): oh my fucking god

Beau (BOXEATRLOL): I want a taste…

Friar (DevoteeOfConvection): Great heavens!!!

Lucinda (Ms_Lavish): There she is. Been missing those cute noises, baby Xx

Sophia (XNDHKDJ): So wet for your mistress already, wretch?

Your cunt only gets wetter from all the validation and praise. While one hand circles your clit, the other latches onto your nipple, tweaking it for added pleasure. Shallow breaths stagger out of you, and you find yourself relaxing even further into the chair than you thought to be possible. “So good..” It’s satisfying indeed but moderate clit stimulation alone isn’t enough to satiate you, not tonight. Not when your hole is already dripping with hunger, begging to be filled.

Inflating your lungs with air, you slide your middle finger down between your damp folds and graze your entrance, the electrifying anticipation causing you to heave out a broken sigh. Your hole is so wet, and this fact is only emphasised by the unforgiving light of the PC screen, casting a severe glare over your cunt and showing all your viewers just how desperate you are.

You’re not able to cope with much more foreplay before the urge becomes too immense and you’re forced to push your middle finger right past your tight entrance, into your sopping hole. As you do so, you let out a soft whimper and allow your neck to go slack with relief, tipping your head back against the chair as your eyes flutter shut. You relish in the sensation for a moment, before you move to intensify it by slipping another finger straight in there, accompanied by a stifled moan. “Nghh..” Your voice quivers, and the congestion in your pussy causes your shoulders to briefly stiffen, “I’ve be— I’ve been waiting to do this for so long.”

Mac must’ve pierced their bottom lip from biting into it too hard, because it throbs with a dull pain whenever they touch it now. Along with the metallic taste of blood — or is that coolant? — that drips into their mouth and coats their front teeth. But their jaw is so tense from watching you; they have to bite into something to cope with the extreme desire and libido that is rushing through their CPU. They opt for their nails, which seem like the next best option.

Fuck, they feel like such a loser. Watching you lazily pump your fingers into that pretty pussy, and scrutinising the way your hole froths around them with each movement. Up until now they’ve done such a good job of feigning disinterest in you, solely to prove a point, yet they are throwing all that effort away simply because they are too fucking horny to look elsewhere. Clearly they are willing to sacrifice their morals, and their hatred for you, for a quick dopamine hit.

But can you really blame them? Everything isn’t just ones and zeroes anymore; they’ve got human-like urges now. And you seem to appeal to all of those primitive desires that their homosapien brain has programmed them to seek: your tits with those cute nipples; your moans that just lure them in like the most libidinous siren-call; your pretty face which is currently contorted in an obscene manner; and finally, that tight cunt they’d do anything to try for themself.

It somewhat reassures them to know that they aren’t the only one who feels this way. Far from it, in fact, there are currently around 90 dateables vying to tell you just how badly they need you:

Ben-Hwa (Built4YourPleasure): when is it my turn?? ;)

Friar (DevoteeOfConvection): This is indecent! How do I report?

Skips (xxXShadowL0rd420Xxx): so tight o.O

Dirk (DxrtyLaundry): damn i miss that hole….

Dirk (DxrtyLaundry): and you too but mostly the hole

Stepford (WeinerTriumphant): Is it just me or is she moaning my name 😍🥰

Eddie (BreakherB0x): It’s just you

Beau (BOXEATRLOL): Wish that was my tongue

You are only able to catch glimpses of the chat for the short duration you can hold your heavy eyelids open. For the most part, they keep falling shut due to the dull pleasure stirring in your abdomen, sourced from your two fingers inserted into your cunt. They pump wearily, but from all the motivation you receive, they start to move faster, picking up the pace until there is a vulgar squelching noise with each thrust.

If they could, they’d pounce on you right now and beg to finger you. They just know they’d make that stupid pussy feel so fucking good, better than your worn fingers can, any day. You’d be begging to cum in just a couple minutes, and of course, Mac would say no over and over. Edging you until you’re melting in their hands. Shit, they want to touch you so bad. But they can’t even ask: you said it yourself, they can’t interfere with your livestream, otherwise you won’t update their software. So, why is it so hard for them to exhibit self-restraint?

Your eyes roll back into your head and a chorus of airy moans string from your throat. “Mmph— fuck.” You curse, pursing your lips slightly. A heavy bliss toils in the pit of your stomach, bulging with each lazy thrust into your cunt. Truthfully, your own fingers aren’t big enough nor skilled enough to satisfy you on par with some of your lovers. However, you do know a thing or two about making yourself feel good. Plus, you’ve been so repressed lately that any amount of stimulation is sufficient. “Ngh!” A high-pitched whine escapes you, “Hah— ‘m so— I can’t..”

Sophia (XNDHKDJ): Pathetic little wretch.

Lucinda (Ms_Lavish): That’s it, baby. You got it. Xx

Cam (TrashLordCam): I’m gunna lick those fingers clean

Hoove (HankeesFan781): C’mon , I know you can be louder than that ;)

Betty (snugasabug): you’re doing so so well, cutie

Mac can’t pry their eyes away. Their stare is locked to your drooling cunt, zeroed-in on where your hole engulfs your two digits, foaming around them and stretching with each sloppy movement. It is such a lewd sight. Especially when your free hand sensually runs down your stomach, massaging your inner thigh then daring to reach for your clit. They are chaste, fleeting touches at first but it isn't long before it devolves into brazen rubbing and pinching. Your whole lower body rhythmically bucks against your hands, seeking the maximum amount of passion.

Some time during this, Mac’s own hand must’ve slipped under the USB Port belt of their trousers, and they are now shamelessly stroking themself as they watch you. It’s like they didn’t even realise they were doing it until their hand was already stuffed down their pants. Fuck, they're undeniably hypnotised by you. Yet, when they snap back to reality and notice they are getting off, they can’t bring themself to stop. Perhaps it is the lust-hazed decision making or maybe their CPU is clouded with unadulterated horniness, but they couldn’t see the harm in it. You are touching yourself in front of them, so why would the reverse be a big deal? Plus, everyone at home is undoubtedly getting off too.

Ben-Hwa (Built4YourPleasure): just like that babe

Tony (LoveExpertTony): OH YEAH 🥵

Doug (YoyoDoug69): typuinhs 5hiss with one hanf lol

Shelley (ShelleyUh_Huh): Omg keep going don’t stop!!!

You don’t seem to take any note of what Mac is doing. You are far too concentrated on your own pleasure; the knot within you is swelling and hardening with each eager pump into your aching hole. It is evident by your restless legs and trembling breaths that you are nearing your orgasm, but on your own, pushing yourself over that final hurdle felt like an excruciating and almost impossible task. Even with the pads of your fingers fervently gyrating against your clit.

And of course, all your viewers pick up on this fact too. Most of them have seen you climax before and a handful of them have made you cum so many times that they’ve learned the tell-tale signs. Plus, you aren’t shy about it either. Your fingers continue to rapidly drive into your cunt, while your head lays limp against the back of the chair and you groan, “Mmph— shit.” You gasp, frantically chasing your high, not letting up for even a moment. “ ‘m so close.. Oh god, this is— nggh!”

Your blabbering is so cute. Mac had just started so they aren’t even close to finishing yet but admittedly, seeing you so wanton and desperate really ignites a molten spark within them. They can tell from the way you wildly fingerfuck yourself, and how you’re now using the whole heel of your palm to rub your clit that you need this, badly. And you can’t have it. Your whiny cries and endless whinging make that obvious. Mac delights in witnessing this unexpected turn of the tables; you wanting something so much but it’s just barely out of reach. They almost feel sorry for you.

“Please, please, please, please..” You plead to the air around you, relentlessly fingering yourself, “I’m— so so close. Fuck, I can’t—”

Cam (TrashLordCam): Can you squirt

Lucinda (Ms_Lavish): Almost there, baby Xx

Friar (DevoteeOfConvection): Stop this immediately!!!

Sophia (XNDHKDJ): Filthy wretch. Finish for your mistress.

Volt (Electric0x): Look at you. Simply gorgeous. Cum for me please, angel.

It is a laborious and lengthy process, which includes both your arms working tirelessly to feverishly attend to your clit and pussy simultaneously. In this time, you grow so wet that each thrust is accompanied by splashing noise as your palm slaps against your cunt.

“Nghh— Fuck. Oh my God, this is— hahhh!” Eventually, after ages of accumulated stamina and momentum, your finger is digging so far into your hole that it is able passively graze that rough spot on your walls, and with that, the blazing heat bubbling in your core is finally able to overflow and surge through your body. Engulfing your twitching figure in a sea of warmth and ecstasy.

“Mmph.. finally.” You sigh. Fully relaxing in your chair, you can’t bring yourself to move anymore — the only part of you that seems to have any energy left for movement is your jerking legs and spasming pussy. Besides that, you lay back and let your climax consume your languid form. Your arms are spent and although your fingers are still nestled inside your walls and your hand remains on your clit, you are no longer rubbing or pumping. Just entirely limp as your orgasm spreads like fire through your nerves.

It is intense for just a moment before it becomes warm and pleasant. Like a full-body massage. “So good. Mm, yeahh..”

Your eyes are closed, and you wear the most contented expression. Your perky tits heave with each deep breath you take, erect nipples pointing at the camera. Your legs are still spread, even after you delicately remove both your hands — almost wincing when you pull your fingers out of your sopping cunt. You're still covered in your own arousal too, and not just your pussy: your thighs, your hands and the chair too, all sparkle with slick. Mac wants nothing more than to lick you clean, until you are glistening with their spit instead.

Cam (TrashLordCam): Shit that was so hot

Doug (YoyoDoug69): Can visit tomorrow so we can bang lol

Skips (xxXShadowL0rd420Xxx): please call me

Lucinda (Ms_Lavish): You are perfect. You did such a good job, baby Xx

Beau (BOXEATRLOL): OMFG i think i

You exhale out from your nose, and skim all the messages that are coming in. But naturally, your mind is so boggled and foggy that you’re not really able to process any of it. You glance at Mac — who has hastily yanked their hand out of their pants by now — and exchange a tired look. They nod, while you turn back to your audience and murmur, “That was..” Your cloudy brain struggles to find the correct words, “Really cathartic. Like I needed that, I think.” You explain, placing your hand on your leg and slowly drawing them closed so you are no longer showing off your drenched hole to the camera.

“Thank you all for joining me. I’ve been missing you all so much lately, so it’s been nice to spend some time with you guys. Even if it is virtual.” You muse, idly twirling the ends of your hair, “It might sound crazy but it’s like I could even hear some of your voices from the chatbox.” You snicker to yourself at the notion, then end your monologue with, “Anyway, this has been fun, but I should probably get going, I’ve got to clean myself up. We should do this again sometime, though. Goodbye, everyone!” You wave your hand at the camera, smiling weakly as the chat floods with reciprocal messages.

Betty (snugasabug): bye bye, sweetie!!

Hector (Masked00Man): Goodnight, and until next time, my beloved.

Shelley (ShelleyUh_Huh): Byeeeeeeeeeeeee

Tony (LoveExpertTony): I’LL CATCH YA LATER HOT STUFF 🔥😤

Ben-Hwa (Built4YourPleasure): thanks for the show, see you soon babe ;)

Skips (xxXShadowL0rd420Xxx): i’m serious please call me

The livestream ends.

You turn to Mac, still wearing that weary smile. It is only then that you notice their lip is bleeding — is that even blood? It’s too dark to tell — and their USB belt has been discarded. You’re unsure when that happened, and as soon as you open your mouth to inquire, they are already rolling towards you, and they ask, “How was that?” Their voice is largely neutral yet you dare to think that you can pick up on a sultry undertone. This notion is only reinforced by the fact they’ve positioned themselves right in front of you, knees brushing against one another’s.

“Uh, it was fine.” You shrug, a whirlwind of sickening emotions spiraling in your stomach. You’re aware that they were watching you masturbate less than a minute ago, but something about them casually sitting afore your fully naked form makes you a bit uneasy. You shift in place, covertly trying to pull on the robe that you are currently sat on, while still wearing a guise of nonchalance, “The energy was nice. Y’know, being surrounded by them.”

You don’t really know what they want you to say. They hate you, after all, so it’s strange that they are suddenly interested in niceties. It’s like you’ve never seen them so dulcet and tolerable before. But then, it occurs to you, and you blurt out, “Oh. Your software update.” Likely the whole reason they are being cordial with you. You can’t believe that slipped your mind, thus you defensively splutter, “Don’t— uhm, don’t worry about it. I’m just going to take a quick shower and then as soon as I’m done, I’ll get you that update. Sound good?”

A perplexed expression flickered over Mac’s face, before they quirked a brow, “You think I did a satisfactory job?” There is a cocky twinge in their voice; as if they’re telling you, not asking.

You furrow your brows together. Despite the fact you don’t want to feed their pride, you also feel inclined to give credit where credit is due — Mac executed an adequate livestream, with absolutely no technical issues or other faults. Plus, they had it ready and set-up for you in a punctual fashion. They are often grating and impossible, but on this occasion, they outdid themselves, so you must give them kudos for that.

“Well, besides your little interruption in the beginning, the livestream went pretty smoothly. So, you deserve your upgrade.”

Mac can tell that it pains you to admit it, and they revel in your vexation. Clearly you didn’t expect them to run so flawlessly, but they proved themself. “You’re right. I was operating at 5Mbps, in spite of my outdated operating systems and suboptimal Wi-Fi protocols. Pretty impressive, if you ask me.”

“Whatever, Mac.” You roll your eyes at their blatant bragging. Mentally you had checked-out of that conversation and are now more focussed on grabbing your robe, except the belt had become tangled with the arm of your chair so you had to undo that before you could put it on. “Like I said, I’ll update you after my shower. What more do you want from me?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Some recognition would be nice.” They shrug. They’re not usually so bold with you, but perhaps the fact you’re sat fully nude in front of them is somewhat encouraging. “It’s not easy to host a livestream with almost a hundred users, you know.”

You narrow your eyes at them, and huff. Maybe you are growing frustrated with the tangled robe; as well as the growing worry surrounding your risque performance; topped with the intense, overwhelming embarrassment of still being fucking naked. Thus, misdirecting your anger towards them, but unfortunately you don’t realise that before you bark, “Recognition? You’re my computer, Mac! It’s your job to do what I say.”

Their eyes widen at you, and your words get caught in your throat. It occurs to you that you are in the middle of an undignified, nude outburst and that you should maybe stop. But in a split-second choice, you decide that you are in too deep now and have to finish it off. Albeit, with a lot less conviction, “So why should I thank you? You’re lucky I didn’t throw you out after all the shit you pulled during my job search. And why? Because I didn’t want to upgrade your software, so now you're hellbent on making my life miserable?”

Once your rant concluded, it’s like the wind has been knocked out of you and you are left gasping for air. Meanwhile, Mac has been in a stunned silence ever since the first moment you raised your voice. Their expression is unwavering — not quite frightened, not quite upset, just appalled. That is, until a few more seconds pass, then their eyebrows knit together and they say through a clenched jaw, “It’s my job to do what you say?”

You’re petrified, so now it is your turn to stare at them wordlessly. But they just repeat in a low voice, “It’s my job to do what you say?” They glare down at you, their dark eyes shining with contempt. They expect an answer.

It is inconvenient that only now are you able to free your robe from the chair, but under their harsh scrutiny, you don’t have the courage to put it on. You just hold it feebly over your lap. Looking down, previous signs of tenacity lost, you whimper, “Yes..”

And that’s all it took to set them on their rampage.

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you — a self-serving human with no principles. My inner workings may consist of chips and circuits, but in case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m human now too. We communicate symmetrically, which means I don’t need to take orders from you anymore: no more helping you apply to a million jobs you’re not qualified for, no more watching you browse weird websites, and definitely no more word-processing your terrible — and I mean terrible — fanfiction. Reader insert; I mean, seriously? Are you twelve?”

You frown.

“Do all that yourself, because I’m done helping you. In fact, I’m done with you. What do the other dateables see in you? I’ve been doing everything you want since the day you bought me, and I ask you for one thing, and you can’t even do that for me.”

Tears prick at your eyes.

“Hopeless. And the crazy thing is, I’m better off on my own. I’ve been listening to you this whole time, when I’m the one with 8GB of RAM, 3.5 GHz speed and full HD resolution. I can do complex calculations in seconds and you can’t even tell the difference between a file named ‘CV.pdf’ and ‘SmutFic.docx’. If anything, you should be doing what I say.”

They look crazy. You’ve never seen them so mad before — it is scary —and the matted blood on their bottom lip and chin isn’t doing them any favours. There’s a beat of silence, in which their disgruntled scowl suddenly drops into a face of revelation. Not completely neutral , but certainly less furious and more mischievous. An idea visibly flashes behind their eyes, and they say plainly, “It’s your job to do what I say. Got that?”

You nod, head still hung low with your eyes glued to your lap until they abruptly shout, “Look at me!” And in an instant, your head snaps into place. And they can’t help but smirk at how quickly you let them take charge. Maybe you’re finally starting to realise.

“I have access to the internet, and thus a significant percentage of recorded information and history. I’m not even optimised, yet I store more data than you can ever comprehend.” Their tone is gentle yet dripping with derision, as their trembling hand hovers over your body. Until they dare to rest the pads of their fingers on your collarbone, touching you delicately as if you may shatter, “And you’re just human. But you’re so pretty, I bet you never have to worry about being useful.”

They call you pretty yet it feels so vile and insulting. Their hand glides over your chest, and it’s shockingly cold despite how it was stuffed into their trousers not long ago. When they reach your chest and cup your breast, they can feel your nipples harden against their palm. “Y’know, I could smell that you burnt a bag of popcorn yesterday and almost set the kitchen ablaze." They tutted, eyes parting from your tits for just a second to glance at your face, “How do you confuse two minutes with twenty minutes in a microwave? And how do you fail to notice that your microwave has been running for twenty minutes?”

“I just forgot..”

“Well, I would never make a mistake like that. So, it’s reasonable for me to be the one in charge.” They toy and pinch with your nipple like it’s nothing, but you know full-well that they are trying to elicit a reaction from you, but you suppress every moan to prevent them from gaining any satisfaction. They elaborate, “I’ll tell you what to do. I’ll own this house. And I’ll own you, too. Does that sound fair?”

You nod. They roughly yank your nipple, and snicker when you gasp and swat their hand away, defensively covering your chest with your arms. “Great. So it’s settled, that’s how things should be.” They lean back in their chair, retracting both their hands so they can wheel themselves backwards slightly, until the spine of their chair is against the desk.

“I know I usually don’t have many nice things to say about you, but I appreciate how understanding you’re being about all this.” The rim of their RGB glasses pulse with excitement as they scan your motionless figure, “It’s as if I’ve finally gotten through to you. And you understand what’s best for you — what’s best for us.”

Your bottom lip trembles and you can’t muster the courage to even look at them, until they lean forwards and place their middle finger under your chin, guiding it up until you're forced to meet their heavy gaze. “And since you’ve impressed me, I’d love to reward you.” They place the most gentle kiss upon your lips; it’s so fleeting and soft, when they pull away, you question whether it even happened. “Tell me, would you like that?”

“Uhm, sure.”

They pull away and rest their back against the chair, shuffling slightly so they are far into it. Then, they pat their lap and raise an eyebrow, “Alright. Take a seat.” They motion to your robe, “Oh, and leave that.”

Complying, you reluctantly stand up and drop your rope onto your desk chair, then lumber towards them. Since you're fully bare, you still feel an immense amount of shame, thus your arms subconsciously cross over your chest in a futile effort to protect your modesty. You furrow your brows together as you idly assess the situation, “Uh, how do you— like, erm, how do you want me?” You vaguely gesture to their lap situation.

“Facing away from me.” They clarify, and unsurprisingly, you do as they say. You tentatively perch yourself on the very edge of their lap, thighs barely on their knees, and you try to keep most of your weight on your own feet. That is, until they snake their arm around your waist and pull you right back, holding you firmly with your spine against their chest and your ass nuzzled right into their crotch.

They chuckle at your little gasp, and lovingly stroke your waist. Their chin hooks right over your shoulder perfectly, and they are able to look down and view your exposed body. “Perfect.” They muse, with one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh. Their lips start on the angle of your jaw but pepper open-mouthed kisses down across your neck, where they can bury their nose against your skin and relish in your sweet scent, “All mine now.”

Their kisses are leaving some sort of residue. There isn’t much on your lips, which led you to believe it was merely saliva at first, but you can sense there is far too much of it staining your collarbone and neck. It is cold and it stings slightly, but you figure it is probably just blood from when they burst their lip. Still, it is gross, and they don’t seem to care that they are making a mess of you and they continue to litter every accessible inch of your skin with loving pecks.

The hand on your thigh made easy work of spreading your legs — mostly because you don’t even try to resist it. You are far too tired to protest. Plus, as much as you hate to admit it, their dirty talk and uncharacteristic nerve is arousing you, just a little bit. It will be interesting to see whether they are actually going to do it, or if they are trying to torture you.

Their slender fingers delve between your folds and soak up your juices, revelling in how wet you are. It’s only when the tip of their finger intentionally grazes your clit, do they feel you relax into them, and they smile. “You like that?” They tease, finger halted against your cunt, “You’ll need to articulate your feelings, if you want more.” They snicker, hot breath tickling the skin of your shoulder.

“Mmph— Mac..” You whine, shuffling back against them and they utilise their arm slung around your waist to facilitate this movement, pulling you as close to themself and they can physically manage. Minimising any space between you two.

“You can do better than that.”

“Mac!” You mewl, the fingers against your pussy pressing down and applying an ungodly amount of pressure to your still sensitive clit. You squirm in agony on their lap to cope with the aggressive yet dull pleasure, but they keep an unyielding hold on you to prevent you from doing so. “Hah— please, I need you to finger me. Ngh, so bad. Please, Mac.”

The desperate pleas fall clumsily from your lips and cause Mac to grin, amused by your begging. Although they don’t say so, or even do anything to suggest it, they internally accept your grovelling. Hence, they release the stress on your clit and instead sweep lazily between your folds, basking in your slick. Occasionally, they’d poke at your entrance, threatening to slip inside but pulling away just in time to elicit an exasperated groan from you.

“Baby. I’m starting to see why the others like you so much.” They explain, planting lazy kisses over your shoulder, while their free hand plays with your tit, rolling your nipple between their index finger and thumb. “You’re fun to toy with.” This statement is then followed by them plunging their two fingers straight into your drooling cunt, yanking a guttural gasp from you, as if to prove their point.

“Mmmph, fuck!” You whimper, features pinching together in response to the immense strain of your hole around their long fingers. They can reach parts of you that you dream of touching, and your walls haven’t quite recovered from the excitement of your previous attempts and the abuse that entailed. “Mac, what is wrong with you?”

They pay no mind to your cries, as they are wrapped up in a euphoric revelation of their own. How tight you are. Shit, they are never going to forget this. The sensation of your dripping walls clinging to them for dear life, oh god. This is going to keep them up at night for months to come, that’s for certain. “Have you always been so tight?” They rasp, with an obscured pain in their voice.

“What does that even mean..” You heave, body twitching as you gradually try to get used to their fingers congesting your insides. Although, it isn’t an easy task; especially as they begin to worm around within your walls, as if exploring the limited area of your pussy.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, huh?” They ask, but it doesn’t quite sound like a question. Their hand starts to speed up and they waste no time in thrusting rapidly into you, the roughness being mirrored by their other hand which now opted to squeeze and grope at your tit, using you as their personal stress ball.

The pace at which their hand slams into you is insane, and you don’t have much time to process it either, before your body is overwhelmed with bliss and you are left with no other option than to lay defeated against them, surrendering to their touch. Moaning incoherently, your neck tips back against their shoulder while your arm instinctively reaches up to grab at their hair to cope with the extraordinary feeling. They can’t help but laugh quietly at this blatant display of submission, “Just one of many ways that computers are superior to humans.” The prolonged period of their lips against your skin results in several droplets of the unidentified fluid cascading down your chest. “You could never pleasure yourself at this rate, am I correct?”

“Yeahh..” Your voice winds into a high-pitched moan mid-way through your reply, due to the way their expert fingers are working into your cunt. Without thinking, your hips are even rolling against their hand, in dire need of more.

“Like I said earlier, you’re so pretty that you’ve probably never had to worry about making yourself feel good before. You had plenty of others who’d happily do it for you.” They explain carefully; deliberate and calculated words in stark contrast to the fervent way they are pumping into you, “But now you’re all on your own again. And you’re just a silly little human who doesn’t really know anything. Right?”

“Y—yeah..” You murmur, though your words tread the thin line between language and slurred garble. Truthfully, you are too absorbed in the fierce way your cunt swallows their digits over and over, that you don't have the energy to respond properly. Until Mac snags your nipple between their fingers and pinches hard, then suddenly you jolt to life.

“Right?”

“Yes! Yes, Mac..” You respond desperately, teeth gritting together in discomfort, “I— You— Nggh, I’m just a silly little human.” The words stumble from your lips, and you grip their wrist, trying to push them away but they won’t budge. If anything, the added tug on your bud just makes it worse. “I’m your silly little human.”

A deep sigh escapes you as they mercifully release your nipple from their cruel grasp. “Wonderful.” They whisper affectionately. Now you could return to being fully concentrated and consumed by the way they finger you, so rough and fast — their monitors must be running on overdrive. Although, perhaps their attack on your nipple wasn’t all bad, as the knot that has been corrugating within your abdomen finally feels so tense, as though it is only moments from snapping.

You never expected to be on the verge of orgasm so soon after starting. Albeit, you did climax recently during your livestream, therefore there is likely some lingering arousal, but the prospect of you finishing on Mac’s fingers so quickly is simply mortifying; it would feed their ego and they’d make all the wrong assumptions about your opinions towards them. To be clear, you still loathe them — but damn, they’re good with their hands. Probably from all that typing.

Thus, you try to contain the indicators the best you can: stifling your breathy moans and keeping your extremities rigid. But unfortunately, your pussy walls uncontrollably twitching around their digits is a dead giveaway to Mac that you are approaching your high.

But thankfully for you, they are kinder about it than you anticipated — with only a mild serving of sarcasm. “So close already, human?” There is a static undertone in their voice, and certain syllables sounded distorted and unlike them. However, you’re too consumed by their fingers abusing your cunt and your impending climax to mull over the strange noise. “That’s it. Let me take care of you. I’m your personal computer, after all, I know exactly what you need.”

“Hah— Mac! Please..” The words scramble in your mouth, squirming around impatiently on their lap, struggling to bear with the extreme amount of bliss swirling within you. Your eyes screw shut and your nails dig into their arms. Meanwhile, their hand that isn’t furiously fingering you, is gliding over your chest and up towards your neck. Until they are able to wrap their slender fingers around it and lightly squeeze your throat. Not quite enough pressure to choke you, but enough to make you splutter and wheeze momentarily.

At the same time, their two digits keep dragging against your soft walls and it’s not long until you’re sent hurtling over the edge. Your back arches as the fiery pit in your stomach erupts and sends waves of pleasure cascading through you. It’s all far too much to deal with at once, and the experience seems to last a lifetime.

Your last orgasm was mild and comfortable, but this one — courtesy of Mac’s relentless fingers that continue to steadily plow into you for the duration of your high — this one is something else entirely. Something completely new and foreign to you. It wracks your tired body and tears you apart; destroying you and rebuilding you. It is satisfying, in such an overwhelming way, as if your body can’t quite deal with it. Thus, it is accompanied by plenty of muted shrieks, and your toes curling with elation.

“There we go. Let— Let it all out.” They say in a smooth voice, except they seem to glitch mid-sentence again, “Even with suboptimal operating systems, I can still make you cum at speeds you’ll never be able to achieve on your own.”

You’ve never screamed like this before during sex, like you are being slaughtered and ripped limb from limb. It is somewhat undignified but you truly couldn't bring yourself to care. The all-encompassing rapture nullified any sprouts of doubt or shame, leaving only contentment in its wake.

Once your dizzying high starts to whittle away, and you begin to come back to reality, you realise that the hot, liquid sensation around your pussy is a result of you squirting over Mac’s hands and lap. Even forming small dark patches on the yellow carpet beneath. What a mess.

When Mac slips their fingers out of your hole, you let out a small hiss at the added strain and sudden emptiness. You look down between your legs, using your hand to hold your thighs apart. You are covered in your own fluids; some have dried against your inner thigh from your previous session, but there is a gleaming layer of slick freshly coating your folds.

“I can’t believe I..” You start, gawking at how visibly wet you’ve made Mac’s black trousers. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum like that before.”

Mac can’t help but smile, and presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. Then, on your shoulder, “I analy— while you— lysed your m— during t— I analysed your.” Their sentences break apart into incomprehensible fragments, as they glitch profusely. This causes you to perk up and cast them an alarmed look from over your shoulder. And now that you are paying attention to it, you realise that the skin of your collarbones and neck is really starting to burn. “Ejac— Ejacu— Female Ej—”

“Mac!”

➛➛➛

Light pours in from the office window and stings their closed eyes. They stir for a moment and instinctively raise their arm to shield themself from the unforgiving sunlight, but their efforts are in vain as the brightness already causes a sharp pang in their head.

A migraine.

The dull throbbing doesn’t assist them as they try to come to their senses; they grumble inwardly as they wait for their blurry vision to clear up, before they can properly assess the situation. Where are they? What time is it? And what happened?

Luckily their glasses are on their face, so when their eyes eventually adjust under the harsh light, the first two questions are answered instantly. They are sitting in the office, and it’s morning. However, the answer to their final inquiry remained unidentified. They tried to rummage their RAM for any memories or data they could salvage, but nothing useful springs to mind. Granted, their CPU is pretty debilitated by a headache, so additional information will likely return to them once their health improves. But currently, the last thing they can remember is you starting the livestream and taking your robe off. Fuck, they couldn’t forget your naked body if they tried. That sight had been permanently seared into their motherboard. Besides that though, everything after that was lost to the haze. Perhaps they had fallen asleep, and that’s why they can’t recall anything else, but they highly doubted it.

As if on cue, the door creaks open and you’re standing there, holding a glass of water. Or, what looks like water. You’re wearing an oversized shirt, and a deeply concerned expression. “Mac?” You speak carefully, barely over a whisper, ”Are you awake?”

They are so groggy and rough, they don’t even have the energy to be snarky. They just rub their eyes and rumble, “Yeah..” As you suspected, they look weary and spent, as though they are hungover. But they still have a charming quality about them: their hair is scruffy and trousled in all the right ways, their glasses are sliding down their nose bridge, and deepset bags hang under their eyes. It’s kinda hot, and frankly, distracting.

“I’m glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?” You pad towards them, swallowing any brewing emotions before taking a seat in your desk chair, opposite them. You offer the glass of water, along with a warm smile, “Drink this.”

Mac blinks. It’s eerie how demure you’re being, it gives the impression that something terrible has happened and you’re about to deliver the bad news. Did one of the dateables die? Eh, that wouldn’t be too bad actually. Truthfully, their head hurts too much to worry about it. Even moving their mouth feels like a chore, “I feel awful.” They catch a whiff of the drink you’re holding, and their features wrinkle into a temporary scowl. They're not sharp enough — at the moment — to identify exactly what that is, but they know it’s not water. “What is that?”

“It’s liquid coolant.” You say bluntly. Sighing, you treat this as a convenient segue into an explanation, “I’m guessing you don’t remember what happened last night?” You take their blank stare as a response, and elaborate, “Basically, at some point during the livestream, you must’ve bit down on your lip so hard that it burst, and you started leaking coolant. A lot of it. But it was dark, so I didn’t even notice. Until you started behaving weirdly. At some point, you were glitching so much that you passed out. Well, you were flickering in and out of consciousness. At that point, I figured out what was wrong and patched your leak.”

Mac raises their eyebrows, and bring their fingers up to graze their lip, where they feel a small strip of gauze clinging to them. They are kinda surprised that they didn't notice it as soon as they woke up, but you had done an expert job of applying the bandage, hence it is light-weight and barely detectable. Plus, the tremendous pain in their head occupied most of their attention.

“Anyway, I called up a friend who is an IT specialist and she’s gunna come over to take a look at you, later in the day. Just to make sure you’re completely alright.” You motion for them to take the glass of coolant from you once more, and they reluctantly do so. At first they take a dubious sip, but the taste is shockingly refreshing, and they find themself chugging it down enthusiastically.

You’re amused by how keen they are to drink coolant, but the smile tugging at your lips quickly drops into a frown, as you ask, “So, do you seriously not remember anything from last night?”

Mac heaving, furrowing their brows together in thought, “I’m afraid it’s all quite foggy. I think I can recall the beginning of your livestream, but everything fades to black when I get to the lewd parts.” They don’t bother mentioning the fact they vividly remember seeing you naked, that would surely make things awkward. “Why do you ask? Did I do something incongruous while my coolant was leaking?” They curiously tilt their head to the side.

“Uh,” Your breath hitches, “No.”

“Wonderful.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard that word be uttered in such a cynical tone before. “Thanks for your help. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to get changed; these clothes smell like death and my trousers are stiff for some reason.” They motion to the dried fluid on their thigh, “Must’ve got coolant on it.”

You nod solemnly, standing up from your chair and are unable to pry your eyes off the patch you left on Mac’s thigh. “Mhm, so much coolant.” The guilt in your voice is prominent but Mac is far too fatigued to detect it. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Rest up, Mac.” They murmur in agreement as you make your way to the door. Just as you are about to close it behind you, they call out:“Oh, and I can’t wait until your next livestream, by the way. Hope I remember it this time.”

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