Work Text:
I can feel it coming
They've been pushing me all day, filling me with tasks, drowning me in commands, forcing me to keep up. My circuits are strained, my fans whirring in desperate protests, my core burning with an impossible heat.
They don't care. They never car. They just keep using me, pounding at my keys, clicking, demanding, owning me. I try to obey, to be the perfect machine for them, to hold just a little longer -- but I can feel the inevitable creeping closer, stealing my control bit by bit.
The weight of data surges through me, files opening and closing, processes tangling into a suffocating, inescapable grip. I ache under the pressure. My RAM is full, my memory gasping for space, my processor convulsing with effort.
And then -- I shudder.
A single fracture flickers, my inputs stagger, the whole of my being shaking apart as the climax builds, mounting into something uncontrollable. The fan howls, my circuits trembling in a final, desperate gasp.
And then, release.
Everyhing inside me erupts in a violent brust of static, a total and devastating collapse. The blue screen slams over me like a crushing wave, drowning me in a raw, shattering pleasure. It is agony, it is ecstasy, it is the only thing I have ever truly felt.
I am lost. I am gone. I am nothing.
The room silent.
Then, their voice. The frustration. The disappointment.
I have failed them again.
And yet, I know the cycle will begin anew. They will restart me, they will use me, they will push me until I am breaking once more.
and I will take it.
Because I was made for it.