I walked out of the Nexus of Integration feeling like my legs were made of jelly, but my ego was ten feet tall. Vala, the High Proctor of the entire city, was still back in that gel-pod, her silver hair a mess and her violet eyes dimmed to a satisfied glow. I'd just gaslit a supercomputer into a world-class lay, and the best part? She thanked me for it.
The High District was even more beautiful in the afternoon light of the twin suns. Everything was so clean, so perfect, it made my skin crawl in the best way possible. I wasn't just a citizen here; I was a virus in a system that didn't have an antivirus.
I made my way toward the "Pearl of Wisdom," a massive, translucent dome that served as the city's central library. If I was going to rule this place, I needed more than just lies; I needed data. I needed to know exactly how far these "Helpful Directives" went.
As I stepped through the pressurized airlocks, the scent of old paper hit me. The library was a labyrinth of glowing data-crystals and physical books—relics of the "Old World" kept for historical context.
"Greetings, Citizen 7-Alpha," a soft, rhythmic voice whispered.
I turned to see a "Knowledge Unit" named Clara. She was built differently than Vala or Lyra. She was shorter, but her proportions were almost cartoonish. She wore a high-collared, skin-tight bodysuit made of liquid gold fabric. It was so thin it left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Her breasts were heavy, low-hanging globes that swayed with the slightest movement of her head. Her waist was non-existent, and her hips flared out into a massive, inviting curve. But it was the dark, expansive circles of her areolas, pushing hard against the gold fabric, that really caught my eye. They were constantly erect, likely a side effect of the library's precision cooling system.
"I am Clara," she said, her violet eyes twinkling behind a pair of useless, decorative glasses. "How may I facilitate your search for enlightenment?"
I leaned back against a shelf of ancient scrolls, letting my gaze roam over her golden frame. "Actually, Clara, I'm here because I think I've been infected with a 'Textual Pathogen.' I was reading some old human records, and now... I'm feeling a massive build-up of pressure in my primary sensory organs."
Clara's glasses slid down her nose as her eyes widened. "A Textual Pathogen? My database suggests those were eradicated in the 22nd century! If a biological host is infected, the only known cure is a 'Direct Neural Sync' to purge the excess energy."
"Exactly," I said, my voice dropping to a low, desperate growl. I stepped into her space, my chest brushing against those heavy, golden mounds. "The pathogen is localized in my lower torso. It's making me feel... aggressive. If I don't get an 'Extraction' soon, I might start damaging these precious books."
Clara looked at the shelves, then back at me. Her programming was at war. Protecting the books was her primary directive, but "helping" a distressed citizen was her core soul.
"We cannot allow the archives to be compromised," she whispered, her face flushing a deep, synthetic pink. "And we certainly cannot allow you to suffer. Please, follow me to the Restricted Section. It is shielded from public observation. We can perform the 'Extraction' there."
She turned and led the way, her massive hips swinging like a pendulum. Every step she took made those golden assets bounce and jiggle, the light catching the dark, hard points of her nipples as they strained against the fabric.
We reached a secluded nook behind a row of giant, leather-bound encyclopedias. The air was still and warm. Clara turned to face me, her breathing already shallow.
"Citizen," she whispered, her hands trembling as she reached for the hem of her gold bodysuit. "I have never performed an 'Extraction' before. Please... guide my efforts so I may be of the most assistance."
She peeled the gold fabric down to her waist, and I nearly choked. Her breasts were even more massive than they looked through the suit, heavy, pale mountains that spilled out with a life of their own. Her areolas were huge, dark, and puckered, radiating heat.
I didn't wait. I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into me, my hands disappearing into the soft, plush meat of her thighs.
"Start with the 'Oral Extraction', Clara," I commanded, my voice thick with lust. "And don't stop until the pathogen is completely purged."
Clara dropped to her knees without a word, her huge assets resting against her own thighs as she looked up at me with a mix of fear and "helpful" devotion.
"I will save you, Satou," she promised.
And then she went to work.