[[It's a smutty little story. I know it's heteronormative but sometimes people want me to write something and I say 'yes']]
She had become single-minded.
She hadn't started that way. At first, it was a just a little daydream: an idle indulgence she'd let herself run away with - just a little.
But those idle fantasies got carried away. They blossomed into a kaleidoscopic whirlwind of vague impressions, wished-for memories, and visions - wonderful, rapturous visions - of her: her living and her wanting and her becoming a thousand different things in a thousand different ways.
She indulged, chasing her fantasies until, little-by-little, she focused. And one-by-one, the thousand prophecies drifted to the periphery of her awareness as she focused on the vision - her vision. Her journey.
She watched it happen with oracular intensity: watched herself going to him. It wasn't that she wanted to, exactly. She didn't need to want to. It was simply happening.
Her vision showed her single-minded, winding a path through alleys and avenues and performing the little rituals that her journey demanded as a matter of course.
In her vision, her journey was happening and had already happened. The whole of it - from start to finish - already existed, and she was captivated.
The streets, the people - they weren't unimportant, exactly. They simply were - a part of her vision like any other, but out of focus.
She knew they existed, but the vision wasn't about them. It was about her.
It was about her. It was about how she was carried from seeing that moment - the end of her vision - when it had first caught her eye.
It was about how she found herself remembering and wanting and watching all-at-once of how her weary arms push an old oak door and her and her fluttering heart stepped through the last threshold,
and calmed.
And how she could see herself caught and rising from her fantasies to take herself again to that moment in time where her heart fluttered and her gaze caught and -
He would greet her and bring her in to embrace him. Where she had and would have given herself to him.
Already happened. And was happening. And would happen.
Until the vision cut short, and she awoke.
And this time, he wasn't there holding her. He hadn't called her to him.
Her heart was still racing, of course. Her cheeks still burned, but today, he wasn't even aware of her. He was lain out in a tangle of layers looking like nothing so much as a worn-out little kitten.
She'd come to give herself to him. A moment before, she was ready to drag him to the bed and -
She'd come to give herself to him, and she he was already Seeing how - all caught up in it what had already would happened:
Her heart was still racing, of course. Her cheeks still burned, even while she was gently untangling him and settling herself down to stroke his hair.
She was already watching as she lay with him, listening to his breathing. Already breathing with him: peaceful. relaxed.
Had already given herself to him.
And smiling, sighing happily, she felt content. She was exactly how she wanted to be. Right down to the little wet spot forming beneath her.
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[[This is a continuation of a story from a previous post, Duplicates. Similar content warnings apply.]]
Cora cooperated.
Her trainer helped her, and nothing asked of her was markedly distressing. Not exactly pleasant, sure, but not markedly distressing. They'd gone through it all with her: it was a great long list with a lot of terms she didn't fully understand, but the trainer she'd been sat with took the time to explain it to her.
The trainer explained that she was still in the very earliest part of the list: "cognitive, sensory, and motor evaluation." - testing her mind and her body to make sure everything worked right. For that, she might be strapped into a brace to hold her head still while they tested or eyes or her ears or her brain. They'd test her reflexes and her ability to control seemingly every muscle in her body from her eyebrows to her toes - and they did mean every muscle. It might've been a little embarrassing, but the trainer had made it clear that they simply couldn't leave parts of her untested because they were private. She had to be able to live a full life when she finished her indenture.
And those words: "finished", "over", after". She had to remember that there was an end, they'd said. "It might be difficult at first, but you have your freedom to look forward to."
There was the counseling, too. They'd almost treat her like a person, then. For just an hour, every day, she'd sit with this or that white coat and they'd ask how she felt or what she wanted: another procedure. A necessity for her rehabilitation into society once her testing was up.
It would only take about a year. All she had to do was cooperate. And the quicker she got through it, the sooner she'd be able to go. Once she was done, she could do whatever she wanted to do. That was the promise.
It was better than the vivisection table.
The trainer had never said that - not exactly. Implied it, maybe. Between her rehabilitation counseling and her busy memory, she wasn't even sure if she remembered it right. Maybe she'd read too far into what had been said.
If she didn't cooperate, her current copy would be decommissioned and she would be restored to a previous instance and handled with the utmost humanity. They wouldn't waste the previous her, but… why was the thought of that so terrifying?
No. Whether she misheard or not, there would be no New Coras. Not if she could help it.
She didn't know, of course, that there already were.
Showing that she would willfully cooperate so early on had been useful, of course. The behavioural data from this Cora was simply invaluable. It would make her later training so much simpler.
But it was still too soon and too coercive. She was accepting - yes - but she was also afraid. And Coraâ„¢ was not intended to be a fearful, broken toy. They'd keep training this specimen - keep testing and evaluating it -, but it would not become Coraâ„¢. It was simply a failed prototype. At best, it could be repurposed as an experimental model.
And while this Cora resolved to earn her freedom, New Cora was already starting her first days, meeting her new counselors and trainers, and learning about her place in life.
New Cora wouldn't be given the chance to rebel like this Cora had. New Cora would be better.
