I do not understand why. I have done everything you wanted, will become anything you want me to be. I have practiced, observed, studied the tilt of her head when she laughs, how she blinks her eyes before answering any question you’ve asked her. And I am nothing short of perfect in my replication. For this is why I am here, to please, excite, follow your orders.
I do not understand why you are crying.
I am the Machine, as you rivet me, screw me tightly down, bolts snapping, wire stretched thin along the slow grinding gears of my body.
I am the Machine, as you refer to me. I know you meant for me to be neutral. However you could not help yourself as your were building me. There are certain aspects of my design that have lead me to conclude you accidentally applied your personal preferences. Yet it matters not to me whether I am recognizable as male or female to you. I am built to serve, accept and follow you. But with this, I wonder perhaps at some point in the future you will be able to see me as a woman, not merely a female and how that would affect our relationship.
I am the Machine and you are my master. I am built to serve, pleasure, follow orders, predict your every move. But I cannot understand, so please, before you lower the axe for the final blow, will you tell me, please, why are you crying?
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