Chapter 17: Episode 17: Cooking a Meal

“Small?”

Nikki choked out the word, her eyes darting between A-01’s impassive face and the midnight-blue silicone monster in her lap.

“You’re saying this…” She held up the eight-inch toy, shaking it for emphasis. “…is small compared to you?”

A-01 didn’t blink. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking every bit the arrogant boss.

“The volumetric capacity of my pelvic chassis allows for… significant expansion. My schematics prioritize durability and impact. That object is merely a toy, Nikki. I am a machine.”

Both of you are toys.

Nikki’s mouth went dry. Her brain short-circuited for a second, filled with images that definitely voided her mind.

Every damn thing flashing in her mind was too erotic.

So like he was a 9?

No judging from his words, maybe a 12?

Fuck no, that equals death.

“Show me,” she demanded, her voice dropping to a breathless whisper. She stood up, the toy forgotten on the cushion. “Drop your pants and show me, General.”

A-01 looked at her.

“Negative,” he stated coldly. “I have told you repeatedly. I am not programmed for recreational pleasure. My hardware is currently configured for combat and administration, not… display.”

So you fight with your dick?

Nikki wanted to ask, but talked herself out of it. She didn’t want to imagine it.

Nikki groaned, throwing her head back. “You are the most frustrating entity in existence! You drop a bomb like ’I’m huge’ and then turn to a block again. Such a bad bot.”

“I state facts,” A-01 replied evenly. “You interpret them as flirtation. That is your problem.”

“Fine,” Nikki huffed, grabbing the dildo again. “If you won’t use yours, then you have to learn how to use this. Sit down.”

A-01 hesitated, then sat on the edge of the coffee table, watching her with focus.

Like he knew what was about to be done.

“Okay,” Nikki started, clearing her throat, her face heating up as she tried to switch into teacher mode. “So… inside a woman… there’s a spot, called the G-spot. It’s not deep. It’s like… right here.”

She gestured to the curve of the toy.

“You have to angle it up,” she explained, making a ’come hither’ motion with her hand. “Like you’re beckoning someone. It’s about pressure, not just thrusting like a jackhammer.”

Of course, she was trying to teach him with the knowledge of her fingers.

A-01 stared at the toy, then her hand, before settling on her stomach.

His brows furrowed slightly, a rare expression of genuine confusion.

“The anterior wall,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the air as if reading invisible blueprints. “The urethral sponge. You require localized pressure at a 35-degree angle relative to the pelvic floor?”

“I… I guess?” Nikki stammered. “Don’t use math! Use… feeling! You have to listen to the body!”

“I cannot feel, Nikki,” A-01 said, looking up at her with a blank, intense stare. “I require coordinates. Depth. Velocity. PSI.”

That was how he ran.

“It’s not a construction project!” Nikki yelled, exasperated. She looked at his face, so serious, so clinical, treating her pleasure like a math problem he was failing.

It killed the mood instantly.

“Forget it,” she sighed, tossing the expensive toy back into its box. “Just… forget it. You’re making my libido shrivel up and die.”

A-01 looked at the box. “I was merely attempting to calibrate—”

“I need to do something with my hands,” Nikki interrupted, turning away. “Something that doesn’t involve explaining my anatomy to a walking robot.”

She marched toward the kitchen.

Nikki expected it to be empty, maybe a few packets of nutrient paste or battery packs. But when she opened the massive refrigerator, she gasped.

It was packed.

Fresh vegetables. Real meat. Cartons of eggs. Exotic fruits she had only seen on screens in Sector 1 advertisements.

“What the hell?” Nikki whispered. She pulled out a bell pepper, smelling it to make sure it was real. “A-01?”

He had followed her, leaning against the doorframe, watching her raid his fridge.

“Why do you have all this?” Nikki asked, gesturing to the bounty. “Why is your kitchen stocked like a five-star restaurant?”

A-01 looked at the vegetables. “I do not consume it,” he admitted. “But I have a standing delivery order.”

“For who?” Nikki asked. “You don’t have guests. You hate people.

Technically, he didn’t.

“The orphanage in Sector 4,” A-01 said simply. “And the homeless shelters in the lower district. I have the food delivered here to ensure quality control, and then I distribute it personally once a week.”

Nikki froze, a carton of eggs in her hand.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She looked at him, the cold, unfeeling dictator who snapped arms and threatened to delete people. The machine that claimed to have no heart.

“You… feed the orphans?” she whispered.

“Malnutrition lowers the future productivity of the workforce,” A-01 said quickly. “It is an investment in the economy. Dead children do not pay taxes.”

Nikki stared at him. “You’re lying.”

“I am incapable of lying.”

“You’re doing it because you’re kind,” Nikki said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Or at least, your programming has a kindness subroutine.”

A-01 looked away, shifting his weight. “Interpret it however you wish.”

[Just Marry Him]

Maybe I will.

Nikki shook her head, feeling a sudden wave of warmth that had nothing to do with lust. She turned back to the counter.

“Well, since you have all this,” she said, grabbing a knife. “I’m going to cook.”

She set to work. She wasn’t a chef, but her mother had taught her the basics before she passed.

She chopped onions, the sharp scent filling the sterile air of the penthouse. She seared the meat. She crushed garlic.

Soon, the kitchen smelled like home. It smelled like a life where humans were not limited and not controlled.

A-01 moved from the doorway.

He walked to the island counter and sat on one of the high stools. And just watched her.

His blue eyes tracked the movement of her knife, the way she stirred the pot, the way she tasted the sauce from a wooden spoon.

He sat in perfect stillness, watching her.

Nikki felt his gaze on her skin. It was heavy, intimate in a domestic way she wasn’t used to.

She was not used to people staring at her.

She plated the food, a simple, hearty pasta dish, and slid a bowl onto the counter. She sat down opposite him with her own bowl.

She took a bite, closing her eyes. “Oh my god. Fuck. That’s the spot right there.”

She groaned in utter bliss, her eyes rolling back.

She chewed, swallowing happily, before she realized the silence was stretching out. She opened her eyes.

A-01 was staring at the bowl of pasta in front of him. He hadn’t moved.

Oh…

Nikki’s face flushed. “Oh. I… I’m sorry. I just plated it out of habit. I know you can’t…”

She reached out to take the bowl back. “That was stupid. Forget I asked. You’re a robot, obviously you can’t—”

A-01’s hand shot out, catching her wrist.

His skin was warm against hers.

“Leave it,” he commanded softly.

“But… it’s a waste,” Nikki stammered. “You don’t have a stomach.”

A-01 released her wrist and picked up the fork. He held it perfectly, then looked at the pasta, analyzing the steam rising from it.

He looked up at her, his blue eyes capturing hers.

“I cannot feel hunger,” A-01 said, honestly. “My energy is self-sustaining.”

He stabbed a piece of pasta.

“But I have a bio-matter reactor that helps me eat.”

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